Then the alarms shatter the silence.

A klaxon blares, red lights strobing across the polished surfaces. The holographic display at the room’s center flickers to life, projecting a map of Manhattan. A massive, pulsing red dot glows over Central Park.

Minutes later, the quinjet screams over the treetops of Central Park. The scene below is… not what anyone expected.

There is no army of Chitauri. No frozen citizens. No crumbling buildings. There is only a lone figure, standing calmly in the middle of a wide, grassy clearing.

Loki Laufeyson.

He is dressed not in battle armor, but in sleek, dark green and gold leathers, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He looks up as the quinjet’s shadow passes over him, a faint, amused smile touching his lips. Around him, the park is utterly normal. Squirrels chatter. A couple on a distant bench points, confused. The only abnormality is the deafening, city-wide alarm still wailing because of him.