New SuperLady In Marvel

Heimdall asking for help?

Bella narrowed her eyes, staring at the brilliant beam of light splitting heaven and earth in front of her.

Less than an hour and a half had passed since Loki and Thor had left Earth.

What could possibly have gone wrong so quickly?

Her mind, sharper than any human's, raced through hundreds of calculations.

Cost-benefit analyses.

Potential threats.

Long-term influence.

It took less than a second to come to a decision.

There was a ripple of golden light in her emerald eyes.

Bella twisted the throttle.

The motorcycle roared forward — and plunged straight into the beam of Bifrost.

The sensation was overwhelming.

She was no longer bound to the Earth.

The universe stretched out around her — endless galaxies, swirling nebulas, titanic planets larger than worlds she knew flashed past her vision.

No movie.

No simulation.

Nothing compared to witnessing the living, breathing expanse of the cosmos firsthand.

It was more beautiful — and terrifying — than she had ever imagined.

Meanwhile, back in the small New Mexico town...

Tony Stark, Phil Coulson, and Clint Barton sat gathered around a kitchen table, mugs of lukewarm coffee between them.

The tension had eased slightly since the battle.

Mjolnir, Loki, the Destroyer — Tony was still trying to piece it all together.

Despite the earlier chaos, the town had gotten off lightly.

No civilian casualties.

Only scattered property damage: collapsed rooftops, destroyed power lines, broken storefronts.

Tony, however, couldn't let go of the anger simmering in his chest.

Being blasted out of the sky by Loki's lightning — and not even getting the chance to punch him back — that really bothered him.

He was half-joking, half-serious as he grumbled:

"Next time I see that sparkly emo prince, I'm parking a missile in his horns."

Barton snorted into his coffee.

Even Coulson, ever the professional, cracked a faint smile.

As they traded theories and gossip, Tony's commlink crackled in his ear.

At the same time, Coulson's communicator buzzed urgently.

"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. said crisply, "an unknown energy event has been detected in Oklahoma. Identical readings to the Bifrost activation signatures registered earlier."

Phil Coulson answered the call from his agent.

A grim line formed between his brows.

He hung up and exchanged a sharp look with Tony.

"The Goddess of Judgment," Coulson said slowly, "has disappeared."

Tony stiffened.

"Disappeared?!"

He hadn't ordered J.A.R.V.I.S. to track her — out of a mixture of respect and fear — so this was new information.

Coulson continued:

"Our best guess is that she's been summoned to Asgard."

Tony and Barton both frowned.

The implications were immediate and troubling.

According to Jane's accounts, only Heimdall, the Guardian of the Bifrost, could open the portal.

Which meant...

They hadn't sent reinforcements to Earth.

They had called for aid.

Something was very wrong in Asgard.

And if Asgard fell —

It wouldn't be long before the chaos spilled over to Earth.

Tony leaned back in his chair, a dark thought clouding his mind.

In recent months, he had seen too much.

Giants, demons, mist-creatures — each worse than the last.

The universe was much bigger — and much more dangerous — than he had ever realized.

And Earth?

Earth was completely unprepared.

If Asgard was in trouble, what chance did they have?

Meanwhile.

Thousands of light-years away.

RUMBLE—!

The capital of Asgard, once magnificent beyond compare, had descended into chaos.

The shining towers and golden spires, combining ancient grandeur with incomprehensible technology, now burned amidst clouds of smoke and ash.

The streets ran slick with blood and ice.

The dead lay strewn across marble courtyards.

War had come.

Countless Frost Giants swarmed across the fields and plazas.

They clashed with the brave warriors of Asgard, who fought valiantly with spears, shields, and the magic of their realm.

The air rang with the clash of steel, the roar of battle, the crackling of magic.

Ice and fire intertwined — the ancient enemies locked in desperate combat.

Outside the Great Palace —

where Odin's throne once loomed —

two figures stood side by side.

Enemies, now uneasy allies.

Thor.

Mjolnir in his hand.

Lightning dancing across his armor.

Face grim, body weary but unbroken.

And beside him:

Loki.

Holding the Eternal Spear.

His green and black armor stained with blood, his elegant features hardened into something sharper, colder.

Behind them stood the battered remains of Asgard's forces.

Sif and the Warriors Three, bloodied but unbowed.

Thousands of exhausted soldiers.

Each knew this might be their last stand.

Before them, advancing with chilling precision, came the King of Jotunheim — Laufey.

Massive.

Cold.

Merciless.

The frost radiating from him froze the very ground he stepped upon.

Thor narrowed his eyes, sparks of lightning crackling from his fingers.

"Loki," he said, voice low but steady, "I'll take Laufey. You deal with the others."

Loki hesitated.

His sharp green eyes fixed on Laufey — the monster who was, by blood, his true father.

He remembered.

The betrayals.

The lies.

The attempt to kill Thor — to kill Frigga, the only mother he had ever loved.

Loki's lips curled in disgust.

There would be no mercy.

"Understood," he said, cold as the void.

At Laufey's command, the Frost Giants surged forward, a wall of ice and death.

The sky darkened under the blizzard of war.

Thor raised Mjolnir high.

The hammer sparked and howled, a miniature storm forming around him.

His voice roared out over the battlefield:

"Sons and daughters of Asgard — stand firm! FIGHT!"

The warriors answered with a thunderous cry.

"FOR ASGARD!"

And they charged.

The two forces slammed together like titanic waves colliding, shaking the very foundations of the realm.

Spears clashed against ice axes.

Lightning tore through frost.

War cries and death screams filled the air.

Above it all, watching from the edge of Bifrost's arrival point, Bella arrived.

Her black and crimson jacket flapped in the frigid winds.

Her emerald eyes swept the battlefield — cold, calculating, calm.

Asgard was burning.

And whether it lived or died —

might just depend on what she decided to do next