Midtown Manhattan. The Frieza Tower.
The skyscraper, which had just been scarred by battle, was restored faster than anyone could believe, thanks to a potent mix of unlimited financial resources and alien technology. It now stood even more extravagant and radiated an even more oppressive, suffocating sense of power than before.
In the penthouse, the CEO's office.
Frieza sat in a leather executive chair that commanded a view of the entire New York skyline, swirling a glass of blood-red wine.
He narrowed his crimson eyes, scrutinizing the middle-aged man practically groveling on the floor before him. This was his former real estate company's General Manager, a sharp operator who had survived on Wall Street for years.
But now, the "sharp operator" was shaking like he had late-stage Parkinson's.
"Well done," Frieza purred, taking a sip of wine. His voice was so soft it made the manager's skin crawl. "Restoring my office in just half a day. It seems keeping you on the payroll was the right choice."
"Th-thank you, Lord Frieza! It's my honor! My absolute honor!" The manager's cold sweat dripped onto the floor with a distinct "tap-tap" sound, but he didn't dare wipe it away.
He had personally seen the news footage of how this golden-haired tyrant had completely wiped Washington D.C. off the map.
"Your honor?"
Frieza's mouth curved into an amused, cruel smile. He set down his glass and tapped his finger lightly on the desk.
"Since you're so fond of honor, I'll give you another taste."
He gestured to Natasha, who stood stiffly beside him in her embarrassing white-and-purple battle suit, her face an icy mask.
"From today onward, all your work reports directly to her. Commander Natasha's orders are my will. Even if she tells you to jump out of that window, you are to do so with the most elegant form possible. Understood?"
"Yes! Understood! Absolute obedience!" The manager nodded frantically, bobbing his head like a woodpecker.
"Excellent."
Frieza leaned back, satisfied, assuming the posture of an emperor surveying his domain.
"Now, issue a global proclamation for me."
"Tell every ambitious fool, every maniac, every criminal, and every self-proclaimed special mutant on this pathetic little planet..."
A violet aura sparked in Frieza's eyes, and his voice took on a tone of wicked temptation.
"...that this is the headquarters of The Frieza Force. We are currently recruiting talent. As long as you have power, and as long as you pledge allegiance to me..."
"Then in the vast universe, across the countless planets we are about to conquer, there will be a domain reserved just for you!"
"Go now. Spread this message to every corner of the world."
"Y-Your wish is my command!"
The General Manager scurried out as if a great weight had been lifted, stumbling slightly as he closed the door, his legs still weak.
The room fell silent.
Frieza swiveled his chair to look out at the clear blue sky.
"I've changed my mind about the game in two days."
"If I simply annihilate all the little ants who dare challenge me, it would be terribly boring."
"We must set a prerequisite for entry."
"For example, they must first get through The Frieza Force."
Images of famous Marvel villains flashed through his mind: Black Cat, White Queen, Bullseye, Taskmaster...
"Recruit them all. Those who want to challenge me must first overcome my subordinates."
"Only when they realize they can't even defeat my dogs..."
Frieza's smile grew maniacal.
"...will their despair be richer, more exquisite! Ohohoho..."
Meanwhile, in a secret S.H.I.E.L.D. underground base in New York.
The conference room's main screen endlessly looped the footage of Washington D.C. being instantaneously erased by a wave of purple light.
That single moment was like a sledgehammer blow, shattering the resolve in everyone present.
Pierce was dead.
The President was dead.
Even the White House, the ultimate symbol of liberty and power, was reduced to dust.
Though the Vice President had been hastily sworn in and the government had employed every measure to block the news, panic had already spread across America like a virulent plague in this information age.
"It's useless... all of it is useless..."
Tony Stark slumped in his chair, his eyes fixed blankly on the screen. The once-indomitable genius now looked like an empty shell, his spirit sucked dry.
"We are fighting a god."
Tony's voice was hoarse, heavy with a profound sense of helplessness.
"When a genuine god walks among men, casually wielding destruction, our resistance as mortals is like a monkey throwing stones at a Tyrannosaurus Rex... it's meaningless, except to anger him."
"Stark!"
Steve Rogers slammed his hand down on the table, his brow deeply furrowed. Though his heart was also filled with shock and fear, his unwavering spirit refused to let him crumble.
"Get up! Look outside!"
Cap pointed toward the window. "As long as one person is still alive, as long as there's a flicker of hope, we can't give up! That's what it means to be an Avenger!"
"This is not the time for despair!"
Just then, the conference room door was violently kicked open.
Brock Rumlow—the Hydra agent known as Crossbones—marched in with a squad of heavily armed soldiers. His face was etched with barely concealed ambition and fanaticism.
"Well said, Captain," Rumlow declared, walking to the head of the table and leaning on it with both hands, his gaze sweeping over the assembled heroes.
"Secretary Pierce is deceased, and Commander Hill is compromised, controlled by that fiend. S.H.I.E.L.D. is a headless mess, a total wreck."
"A time like this demands strong leadership to take charge."
Rumlow thumped his chest. "After some deep deliberation, I feel I have both the duty and the ability to temporarily assume command of S.H.I.E.L.D.!"
The mask was off. Even in this moment of global crisis, Hydra was still attempting a coup.
"I object."
Cap stepped forward without hesitation, his blue eyes locked on Rumlow. He didn't know the man was Hydra, but he instinctively sensed the impure motive.
"Rumlow, you're just a strike team leader. Right now, we need a leader who can unite all our forces, not a warlord who just wants to issue orders!"
"And who do you suggest? You? Popsicle?" Rumlow sneered, his hand already reaching for the gun on his hip.
"If it's the Captain, I have no problem."
Barton, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up and stood behind Cap.
"I agree," Dr. Banner said, pushing up his glasses. Though he was terrified, he trusted Cap more.
Even the previously defeated Tony slowly lifted his head. "If we have to pick someone who isn't a psycho to lead, I'll go with the Popsicle."
"You people..."
Rumlow's face turned green. Seeing the agents' gazes converging behind Cap, he knew the momentum had swung against him. In this moment of shattered faith, Captain America's sterling reputation held more sway than any military rank.
"Fine! Very well!"
Rumlow gnashed his teeth, glared hatefully at Cap, and spun around, slamming the door shut as he and his men stormed out.
"You'll regret this!"
Having driven off Rumlow, Cap took a deep breath, feeling the heavy burden of responsibility settle on his shoulders.
"Since you all trust me, I won't decline."
Cap's eyes grew resolute again, like a sword being drawn.
"I will lead S.H.I.E.L.D., I will lead the Avengers. We will fight Frieza to the very last drop of blood!"
Fzzzz—!
The space in the center of the conference room abruptly tore open. Golden sparks spun and fluttered, forming a circular portal.
The scent of sandalwood wafted into the room.
Then, a bald woman in yellow robes, accompanied by a heavy-set Asian sorcerer, stepped slowly through the fiery gateway.
The Ancient One, the Sorcerer Supreme.
"It seems I've arrived at just the right time."
The Ancient One's gaze swept over the group, finally resting on Cap, to whom she nodded slightly.
"The balance of the world has been shattered. The boundaries of the Multiverse are blurring."
"If the being calling himself Frieza is not stopped, Earth will face a fate far worse than mere destruction."
Simultaneously.
Bizarre and unusual individuals were appearing on flights, trains, and even the major highways heading to New York.
A fiery woman with white hair, wearing tight leather, was applying makeup in first class. A flash of cold light occasionally caught her fingertips—it was Black Cat.
A cold, dignified woman, completely encased in diamond form, sipped champagne on her private jet—the White Queen.
There was also a mad scientist in a lab coat with a lizard tail, a giggling green-skinned lunatic on a flying glider, and a hulking brute whose body could turn to sand...
Frieza's recruitment order was like a massive magnet, pulling every supernatural and super-criminal entity in the Marvel Universe toward him.
For these villains, who cares who they work for? Working for an Emperor of the Universe not only earns respect but might also land them a planet or two to rule. That's a much better gig than being constantly hunted by superheroes on Earth.
Frieza Tower, Lobby.
The lobby had been converted into a massive recruiting floor.
Natasha sat at the interviewer's table, her face dark with distaste inside her humiliating white-and-purple battle armor. Though every fiber of her being resisted, the soul contract forced her to faithfully execute Frieza's command: recruit talent for the Force.
"Name?"
"Doctor Octopus."
"Abilities?"
"I have four mechanical tentacles. I can fight, and I can also cook four different meals simultaneously..."
Natasha's mouth twitched, and she tapped "Approved" on her tablet.
In the penthouse office.
Frieza studied the growing list of names Natasha sent up, his smile widening with every entry.
"Abomination? Juggernaut? Bullseye?"
"Ohohoho... Excellent. Truly excellent."
"These individuals, on average, are slightly stronger in combat than that band of Avengers who just shout platitudes."
Frieza tapped his finger on the desk, practically visualizing the gruesome scene two days later when the Avengers would be overwhelmed and beaten to death by this horde of villains.
The fear generated at that moment would surely erupt like a geyser!
Just as Frieza was reveling in his beautiful future plans,
Woooah—!
The space in the center of the office suddenly experienced a strange fluctuation.
But this was not the golden, fiery magic portal of the Ancient One.
It was a rectangular, glowing orange energy field, like a vintage elevator door appearing out of thin air.
Immediately, a team of fully-armed people in black uniforms and carrying odd sticks stepped out.
Three striking letters were stamped on their uniforms: TVA.
The Time Variance Authority.
The leader, a female judge wearing a helmet, scanned Frieza with a device and delivered her decree emotionlessly:
"Prisoner Frieza, you have severely damaged the Sacred Timeline and caused multiple temporal branch realities to form."
"In accordance with the regulations of the Time Variance Authority, you are under arrest."
"Cease resistance immediately and accompany us to face deletion."
Frieza showed no surprise at the sudden appearance of the unwelcome guests. Instead, he flashed a knowing smile.
He slowly rose to his feet, adjusting his battle suit.
"The TVA, is it?"
"With all the noise I've made, I figured you dullards would be running late."
Frieza raised a single finger, condensing a ball of destructive light at the tip.
"You want to prune me?"
"Well, let's see which is harder: your cheap time sticks, or my mighty Death Beam!"
"Ohohoho..."