Loki sat back and let the silence stretch for a moment. The calculation was still running.
He hadn't come to Earth to become a philosopher-king. He'd come because Thanos had handed him an army and a leash and called it an opportunity. Rule the Earth, retrieve the Tesseract, deliver it to the Mad Titan — that was the arrangement. Simple enough on paper.
But the Dragon Balls changed the geometry of everything.
If the wish is real, he thought, then Thanos becomes irrelevant. One wish, and the agreement evaporated. One wish, and he wouldn't need an alien armada or a stolen Cosmic Cube or any of it. He could take the throne of this planet through something far more elegant than conquest, and do it in a way his brother never could.
Loki had always had to be cleverer.
He turned to Barton. "What do you know about the Dragon Balls?"
Barton's expression shifted — not with Loki's intensity, but with his own version of surprise. "I know they exist. S.H.I.E.L.D. has a file on them, but the wish-granting part wasn't in anything I read."
"Then tell me what was."
Barton laid it out evenly. "S.H.I.E.L.D. first flagged them during an investigation into Smith Doyle and the Fraternity. The working theory was that Doyle used them as bait — release the Dragon Balls into the underground world, let the gangs tear each other apart chasing them, then clean up what was left or recruit whoever survived." He paused. "The first confirmed collector was a retired Continental assassin — goes by Baba Yaga. He gathered all seven, dismantled several gangs and the High Table's senior leadership along the way, and ended up as Doyle's personal driver. S.H.I.E.L.D. never got a clear picture of what the wish actually did."
Loki looked between Barton and Selvig. Two men, two completely different accounts of the same objects. One described a wish-granting cosmic artifact. The other described an underground recruitment tool. Both were telling the truth — the Mind Stone guaranteed that — which meant both descriptions were simply incomplete.
"Dr. Selvig," Loki said. "How did you learn about the wish-granting function specifically?"
Selvig answered without hesitation. "One of my research assistants obtained a Dragon Ball. She didn't know what it was worth, saw someone buying it online, and sold it. About a year later, she received a message — appeared directly in her mind. It explained the Dragon Balls, the wish-granting function, and offered an alternative: if she didn't collect all seven before the tournament period began, she could compete in the tournament itself. The champion earns the right to make the wish." He folded his hands on the table. "At least two tournaments have been held. If the prize didn't work, people would have stopped competing."
Loki nodded slowly. The logic was sound. "Bring me the assistant. I want to hear it directly."
Then he set that thread aside and returned to the larger problem.
Smith Doyle. He'd seen the footage Barton provided — the man had dismantled Asgardian Uru metal with his bare hands. By Loki's estimation, that put him somewhere in the range of the Destroyer Armor — formidable, but well below Thor, who had shattered that same armor with Mjolnir. Loki himself didn't have Gungnir. He'd arrived on this planet alone, with a scepter and a controlled handful of humans. Taking on someone at the Destroyer's level without backup was a gamble he had no interest in taking.
Which meant he needed the army first. The Dragon Balls second.
The Tesseract portal had to come before anything else.
He looked at Selvig. "What do you need to open a portal large enough for an invasion force?"
Selvig thought for a moment. "The Tesseract itself generates enormous heat when pushed to that output. The only power source on this planet that could sustain it at the required scale is in New York — Stark Tower. There's a building-scale arc reactor that could handle the load." He paused. "We'd also need iridium as a stabilizer. A significant quantity. We don't currently have any."
Barton had already pulled up a search on his laptop. "There's a German scientist — Dr. Heinrich Schäfer — who has a stockpile. I can find his location."
"Do it," Loki said. "And send someone to retrieve the iridium when you have an address." He glanced at one of the controlled S.H.I.E.L.D. agents near the wall. "The assistant — Selvig, give him the contact information. He retrieves the woman and brings her here."
Selvig passed the details across the table without comment.
Loki stood, the scepter easy in his hand, and looked at the pieces he was working with.
The situation was more complicated than Thanos had implied. Earth was considerably less primitive than advertised. But Loki had never needed simple situations. He'd always worked better with complexity.
The Triskelion's upper floors were quiet compared to the controlled chaos three levels below, where every analyst S.H.I.E.L.D. had was currently burning through satellite feeds and financial records trying to locate the Tesseract.
Fury stood at the window of his office and didn't look at any of it. He was thinking about Asgard.
Not the mythology. The reality. He'd read every file S.H.I.E.L.D. had accumulated since the Destroyer incident — a force that governed nine realms, whose people lived for millennia and called themselves gods without irony. And the man who'd just stolen his Cosmic Cube wasn't some minor operative. He was the second prince of that civilization.
Whether this was a personal vendetta, a sanctioned Asgardian operation, or something else entirely, Fury had no way to know. What he did know was that he couldn't afford to guess wrong.
Coulson stood across from him. "Director. Natasha is already moving to retrieve Dr. Banner. Your orders on the rest of the roster?"
"Hill contacts Smith Doyle directly. I want him in the room." Fury turned from the window. "Tony Stark— that's yours. And get Steve Rogers and Jessica Jones mobilized as well."
Coulson made a note. "And the Paragons, sir? They've already assembled a solid team. Selene alone would be—"
Fury shook his head. "Not yet. We're not at that threshold." He picked up a folder from the desk — the preliminary incident report, still only half complete. "Civilian forces stay out until we know what we're dealing with."
Coulson nodded. "Understood." He turned for the door.
Fury watched him go, then walked toward the conference room at the far end of the corridor. The UN Security Council call was in twenty minutes.