The death of Thaddeus Ross barely made a ripple in the Marvel world.
Even Luke didn't give it a second thought.
"He jumped into Doggo's mouth by himself," Luke muttered, sipping soda while watching the chaos outside. "What am I supposed to do, mourn the guy?"
Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't he some kind of general?"
Luke shrugged. "Just another angry old man with a vendetta and a shaved head. Not my problem."
In a world full of aliens, gods, and now magical green warlocks, a crusty human general just didn't really matter.
Still, one piece of Ross's legacy remained.
The transport plane he had been on, now pilotless, was still rushing through the sky.
And for some unknown reason, it was flying way faster than it should.
Its engines were practically howling, the metal groaning under the unnatural speed. It rocketed eastward, toward the Atlantic.
Above the sea, east of New York...
A S.H.I.E.L.D fighter jet streaked toward the city.
The pilot's hands were slick with sweat. His breathing was shallow. His eyes locked on the glowing missile beneath his plane.
He was about to press the button that would change history.
But not in a good way.
"If I do this... I'll go down as the man who nuked New York…"
But he couldn't disobey, he couldn't afford the consequences. And orders were orders.
"Begin countdown for the launch," he whispered.
Elsewhere in the sky, Tony Stark was rocketing forward at full speed.
"Fury, I've got eyes on the bomb. I'm gonna try to redirect it."
Suddenly, a shadow passed over him.
A massive transport plane thundered above him like a freight train in the sky.
Tony blinked. "...Wait, what the hell?"
That was definitely a military transport… and it was moving like a fighter jet on steroids.
"Since when do flying bricks go supersonic?" he muttered.
He didn't have time to ponder, because seconds later…
A brilliant white flash lit up the sky as a massive explosion ripped through the atmosphere.
A blinding mushroom cloud surged upward from the sea. The resulting shockwave blasted outward with terrifying force.
Tony was caught in the blast radius and flung backward like a ragdoll.
He tumbled head over heels through the air, alarms blaring in his helmet.
It took all his thruster control just to avoid crashing into the water.
When he finally stabilized, panting, the sky was still glowing orange with fallout.
Then Nick Fury's voice crackled into his comms.
"Stark?! What the hell just happened? How did you stop the missile?!"
Tony groaned, for all his shamelessness, he wasn't the type to claim credit for what he didn't do. "Uh… it wasn't me."
"You're not gonna believe this," Tony replied. "But it looks like... a transport plane flew straight into the missile."
There was silence on the comms.
"…What?" Fury finally said, flatly.
"I know how it sounds!" Tony said quickly. "But I saw it with my own eyes. Big, clunky plane. Didn't even swerve. Just boom and gone..."
And Tony didn't blame him. It sounded like something out of a bad fanfiction.
Back in the grocery store, Luke's brow furrowed.
The explosion had shaken the building slightly. A low rumble vibrated through the walls.
"That better not have been the nuclear bomb…" he muttered.
A system prompt didn't appear. No confirmation. No celebration.
He looked toward the screen.
'Wait... wasn't the plan for Tony to throw the nuke into the portal?'
Luke's stomach dropped.
On-screen, the battle between the Chitauri and Gul'dan's army continued.
But things were getting ugly.
The portal above New York had widened. Thousands of new Chitauri poured in like an unstoppable tide.
Even Gul'dan's monstrous army of undead servants, fearless and brutal, was beginning to falter.
Gul'dan had only an hour in this world. And half of that time was already gone.
His servants were strong, but they were outnumbered ten-to-one, and this number was still increasing.
And the longer they fought, the more their bodies began to fall apart, unable to get up.
The tide of battle was shifting.
On the Chitauri side of the portal, reinforcements kept coming.
On Earth's side, there was only Gul'dan.
From atop the Stark Tower balcony, he spread his arms with theatrical flair.
"Send them all in!" he ordered. "Tear that filthy green beast apart!"
For a moment, his eyes sparkled with triumph.
Finally, the battle was turning in his favor.
But that smugness didn't last long.
On the battlefield, Gul'dan stood silently.
His narrow eyes scanned the field, unbothered by the approaching flood.
He raised his skeletal staff and began to chant.
A pulse of sickly green light rippled outward from his staff, and with it, a massive tripod-shaped cauldron shimmered into existence.
It radiated an eerie green light.
From the computer screen, Luke's eyes widened.
"That's... the Well of Souls."
Wanda leaned closer. "Is that good or bad?"
"Very bad, for them," Luke said.
A keening wail echoed across the battlefield.
At first it was faint. Then it grew louder. And louder.
The sound of millions of souls crying out.
Blue, ghostlike figures rose from corpses and rubble across the battlefield, drawn toward the glowing cauldron like moths to a flame.
The Ancient One, watching from a distant rooftop, gasped aloud.
She had never seen anything like it. Not even Dormammu could do something so monstrous.
Gul'dan was taking the lost souls of the dead, and completely corrupting them.
One by one, the blue spirits entered the Well.
And when they came out, they were glowing green with the evil Fel energy.
Each corrupted soul launched toward a fallen Chitauri body.
Then hundreds of thousands of Chitauri bodies stood up again, but now with green, burning eyes.
Gul'dan's army had just been multiplied tenfold.
And it was still growing.
Every Chitauri who died… joined him.
The battlefield was consumed in green fire.
Inside the Stark Tower, Loki's knees buckled slightly.
He grabbed the ledge to steady himself.
His glorious invasion had become a scene of horror.
He backed away from the balcony, eyes wide with disbelief.
He realized this wasn't going to be his conquest anymore.
And he needed to ensure his survival.
Back in the sky, Gul'dan finally spoke, his voice booming like thunder.
He raised his staff high.
"My children… THE TIME HAS COME!"
"Bring the fight to them, tear them apart!"
His servants, now numbering in the millions, roared in unison.
Then, with a thunderous stampede, they surged toward the portal.
A full counterattack had begun.
The Chitauri wouldn't know what hit them.
He was already looking for a place to hide.