Above the ruins of Manhattan, the dust had yet to settle.
But for the Frieza Building, order had already begun to be restored.
Although the building was riddled with holes from the explosion, the luxury of its top floor remained. This was because its owner—the man who had just sliced the North American continent like a cake—had returned.
"These damn politicians reacted quite quickly."
Frieza walked through the lobby, filled with shattered glass, his leather shoes crunching with every step.
Just five minutes earlier, via global broadcast, the White House had issued a supreme directive: cease all military actions against Mr. Frieza and designate him as an S-class target, "untouchable."
Even the FBI and National Guard, tasked with his capture, had retreated ten kilometers away, as if fleeing the plague.
That's more like it.
When faced with irresistible power, lying down and enjoying it is humanity's wisest choice.
In the lobby, the surviving employees were timidly clearing the debris. When they saw the devil in a suit, cloaked in an elegant exterior, walk in, the air seemed to freeze instantly.
No one dared to speak, no one even dared to breathe.
The tremor from the depths of their souls made their legs tremble uncontrollably.
"Good afternoon, everyone."
Frieza stopped, a signature smile on his face—one that felt like a spring breeze yet sent shivers down their spines.
"Although the company experienced a small 'renovation accident,' I am very pleased to see you all still diligently at your posts."
He waved his hand elegantly, like a noble inspecting his territory.
Crash!
A female receptionist with a weaker psyche immediately rolled her eyes and fainted from fright.
[Ding! Employee detected in extreme fear! Fear Points +500!]
[Ding! Fear Points +500!]
[Ding! Fear Points +500!]
Listening to the pleasant notification sounds in his mind, the curve of Frieza's lips widened.
'What a lovely group of ATMs.'
He praised them silently, then ignored these terrified mortals and, with Loki, who was wearing a bizarre bodysuit, behind him, walked straight into a relatively intact spare office.
Bang!
The heavy mahogany door closed, blocking the view from outside.
Frieza walked to the luxurious boss's chair, sat down elegantly, crossed his legs, and clasped his hands on his knees.
He said nothing, merely watching Loki, who stood at the doorway at a loss, with his scarlet eyes.
"..."
This silence was like an invisible hand, firmly gripping Loki's throat.
One second, two seconds, three seconds.
Cold sweat instantly broke out on Loki's forehead.
"Kneel."
A single light word, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, as natural as saying "Please have some tea."
Thump!
Loki's knees reacted faster than his brain, slamming heavily onto the floor.
What Asgardian dignity, what divine glory?
In the face of the terrifying power that had just parted Earth, it was nothing.
"Ma… Master…" Loki stammered, not daring to lift his head.
Frieza looked at the humble god and sighed softly, a hint of regret in his tone, as if lamenting his inability to improve.
"Loki, oh Loki."
"As the first employee of my Frieza Force, I originally had high hopes for you."
Frieza extended a finger, tapping rhythmically on the armrest, making a "tap, tap" sound. Each tap felt like it was striking Loki's heart.
"But you don't seem very obedient."
"On the rooftop, I counted. You showed killing intent towards me three times, touched your dagger twice, and even when I was imagining blowing up that mothership, you were thinking about how to snatch my Space Stone and escape."
Boom!
A thunderclap seemed to explode in Loki's mind.
How did he know everything?
He had concealed it so well. Even that one-eyed director hadn't noticed.
"No! Master! You've misunderstood!"
Loki looked up, his face full of panic and injustice, an act worthy of an Oscar.
"I was… I was trying to protect you! I was afraid of enemy sneak attacks! My loyalty to you is as clear as the sun and moon!"
"Loyalty?"
Frieza smiled, a brilliant yet sinister smile.
"Loki, you are the God of Mischief, that's true."
"But do you think…"
Frieza leaned forward slightly, his eyes seemingly able to pierce through souls. "I look like an idiot?"
One sentence, and Loki was instantly choked on the spot.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, but no sound came out.
It's over.
He blew the act.
"Actually, I don't care if you're truly loyal or not."
Frieza leaned back in his chair, casually raising his right hand, a tiny purple speck of light condensing at the tip of his index finger.
Though small, the energy fluctuations it contained made Loki feel a sense of suffocation.
"After all, the best way to make an untrainable wolf obey isn't to feed it meat, but to…"
Whoosh!
Frieza flicked his finger.
The purple speck of light was faster than thought. Loki only felt a chill between his eyebrows, as if something had drilled deep into his brain.
There was no pain, only a strange sensation of a foreign object.
"...put a collar on it."
"Ahhh—!" Loki clutched his head, screaming in terror.
He desperately tried to sense it with his divine power, but found the energy mass clinging to his brainstem like a gangrene.
"Don't bother, that's a micro-bomb."
Frieza picked up a half-finished glass of cold water from the table and elegantly took a sip.
"You can think of it as a… well, an employee incentive mechanism."
"As long as you behave, it will be quiet. But if you dare to have any inappropriate little thoughts, or get too far from me…"
Frieza made an explosion gesture, accompanying it with a cute sound effect:
"Bang."
"I think your head will then explode like a rotten watermelon, creating a beautiful fireworks display, wouldn't it? Oh ho ho ho…"
Loki collapsed to the ground, his face as pale as paper.
"I… I won't dare again! Master! I am your most loyal dog! Whoever you tell me to bite, I'll bite!"
This time, Loki was truly subdued, banging his head on the floor repeatedly.
"That's a good attitude." Frieza nodded in satisfaction.
"Since you're going to be my special forces captain, attitude alone isn't enough, you also need corporate culture."
"Captain Loki, get up."
Loki shakily stood up, unsure what new mischief this demon was planning.
Frieza stood up, straightened his suit, and then struck an extremely shameful, extremely exaggerated pose.
Hands on hips, standing on one leg, head tilted back 45 degrees, chin pointing at the ceiling.
It was the signature entrance pose of the Ginyu Force from Dragon Ball.
"Watch. This is the 'Dance of Loyalty' you must learn."
Frieza said earnestly, completely oblivious to anything being amiss.
"As an excellent force, our entrance must be cool. It must have presence. It must be unforgettable at first sight."
"Come, follow me. If your posture isn't standard, I'll take off one of your legs and use it as a crutch."
Loki looked at the pose in disbelief.
What… what the hell is this?!
For him, the dignified Prince of Asgard, the greatest sorcerer of the Nine Realms, to do such a move that looked like rehabilitation exercises for a stroke victim?
Just kill him! This was worse than death!
"What? Unwilling?" Frieza narrowed his eyes, and the bomb in Loki's head pulsed slightly.
"Willing! I'm willing! This move is simply too graceful! Too artistic!"
Loki instantly let out a wail from his heart, then, holding back tears and enduring the shame, struck the stance.
"Here. Raise your hand higher. Stick your butt out. Your expression needs to be a little more ferocious. Yes. Just like that."
Inside the office, the passionate teaching voice of Frieza echoed, along with Loki's shattered dignity.
Meanwhile.
Washington, S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion Headquarters.
The large round conference table was filled with people, but every face was etched with solemnity and sorrow.
The head seat was empty.
That seat originally belonged to Nick Fury. But now, the one-eyed director had become a cold corpse, not even leaving a complete body.
Steve sat on the left, his fists clenched tightly, knuckles white.
Tony slumped in his chair, his faceplate already open, revealing a face full of exhaustion and anxiety, a sense of defeat he had never experienced before.
There were also Natasha, Barton, and the recently recovered Bruce.
And at the other end of the conference table were S.H.I.E.L.D.'s current high-ranking officials—Alexander Pierce, and Agent Maria Hill.