Marvel x Genshin: Mavuika, The Sun Goddess Rules Asgard — Chapter 154

Chapter 154: This is an Opportunity

Thor squinted at the photograph on the small, glowing screen.

“He’s quite fat.”

A soft chuckle escaped Loki’s lips. “Indeed,” he agreed, his tone laced with amusement. “He appears to be a full size larger than you.”

Thor was clearly not pleased with the comparison. “What do you mean, ‘a full size larger than me’?” he bristled, flexing a bicep. “This is muscle, do you understand? Pure Asgardian muscle!”

Loki, paying him no mind, simply continued to swipe a finger across the screen, his eyes scanning the information. “His influence is certainly vast,” he mused. “New York’s docks, its warehouses, nightclubs, casinos… a great many of them are under his control.”

Later that evening, the three siblings returned to the apartment. Mavuika prepared a simple but fragrant dinner: pasta generously coated in a rich meat sauce, a crisp vegetable salad, and a bottle of deep red wine she had selected.

Thor was effusive in his praise, devouring three entire plates of the pasta with gusto. “Big Sister, this is even better than that hot dog we had for lunch!” he declared, his voice full of genuine admiration.

Mavuika’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “That’s only because you were truly hungry.”

Across the table, Loki ate with a practiced elegance, twirling the noodles expertly onto his fork. He took small, deliberate bites, occasionally taking a sip of the red wine. “This wine is good,” he commented, swirling the dark liquid in his glass. “It possesses a depth that Asgard’s mead lacks.”

Thor shot him a glare. “That is the third time today you’ve spoken ill of our mead!”

Loki blinked, the picture of innocence. “Was it? I am merely speaking the truth.”

With a huff, Thor shoveled another large mouthful of pasta into his mouth, deciding to let his eating do the talking.

Mavuika watched the familiar exchange, a quiet warmth spreading through her chest. It had been several hundred years, yet in some ways, nothing had changed at all. These two were still, and always would be, her brothers.

After the meal, Thor sprawled across the sofa, rubbing his full belly as he watched the television. He had already mastered the remote control and was flicking through the channels, marveling at the sheer variety of Midgardian programming.

Loki, meanwhile, had taken a chair out onto the balcony, his silhouette framed against the glittering cityscape. He was still engrossed in his phone, having already registered a social media account and begun exploring the endless stream of news and personal posts.

Once Mavuika had finished tidying the kitchen, she stepped out onto the balcony and came to a stop beside him. The cool night air carried the distant sounds of the city.

“What are you looking at?” she asked softly.

Loki looked up from the screen’s glow. “A great deal,” he said, a hint of fascination in his voice. “This ‘Internet’is a remarkable thing. It contains all manner of information.” He paused, a strange expression crossing his face. “I found the’myths’ about us.”

Mavuika raised a single, curious eyebrow. “Oh?”

Loki offered the phone to her. On the screen was a popular science article detailing Norse mythology.

It read: Thor, the God of Thunder, son of Odin, King of the Gods. Wielding the hammer Mjolnir, he is a symbol of strength and courage.

Loki, the God of Mischief and Trickery, son of Odin…

Mavuika read through the entry, a faint smile playing on her lips, before handing the device back to him. “Quite interesting, isn’t it?”

Loki didn’t answer immediately. He simply looked at her, his emerald-green eyes flickering with a complex, unreadable light. After a long moment, he asked, his voice barely a whisper, “Big Sister… do you miss home?”

Mavuika’s smile faltered, her breath catching for a fraction of a second. The simple question struck a chord deep within her. Then, the gentle smile returned, tinged with a wistful sincerity.

“Of course,” she said.

…

In a dark corner of New York, a man observed the windows of that very apartment through a pair of high-powered binoculars.

Bullseye. One of the Kingpin’s most lethal assassins.

Clad in black tactical gear, he was perfectly concealed on the rooftop of an opposing building. His position was expertly chosen—offering a wide, unobstructed field of view while keeping him cloaked in shadow. He could clearly see the activity inside Mavuika’s temporary home.

Through the lenses, he watched the burly, blond man lounging on the sofa, captivated by the television. He saw the elegant, black-haired man sitting on the balcony, his face illuminated by a small screen. He saw the red-haired woman moving about in the kitchen, tidying up.

They looked so… ordinary.

But he knew better. What ordinary person would dare to provoke the Kingpin?

Bullseye lowered the binoculars, retrieved his phone, and dialed a number.

“Boss.”

The Kingpin’s deep, resonant voice came through the receiver. “Report.”

“I have eyes on them. Three individuals—two men, one woman. The woman… she looks a bit familiar.”

There was a two-second pause on the other end of the line. “Familiar?”

“Yes. Like I’ve seen her somewhere before,” Bullseye confirmed, his brow furrowing as he tried to place the face. “I can’t recall where.”

“Continue observation,” Kingpin commanded, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Do not make a move.”

Bullseye frowned. “Boss, are we just going to let them get away with such arrogance?”

Kingpin’s voice was as unyielding as granite. “I said, continue observation.”

The call ended. Bullseye put his phone away and raised the binoculars again, his gaze returning to the warm, brightly lit window. A cruel smile twisted the corner of his mouth.

“Just wait,” he muttered to the night. “An opportunity will present itself.”

Meanwhile, on the top floor of Fisk Tower, Wilson Fisk sat in his massive leather chair before a bank of monitors. The screens displayed a web of surveillance feeds—streets, docks, casinos, nightclubs. Every dark corner of New York City was under his watchful eye.

But at this moment, his attention was not on the screens. It was on a file resting in his hands.

Inside was a photograph of a woman. Red hair, amber eyes, young and strikingly beautiful. It was from the official report on the Harlem incident—a report he had expended considerable resources to acquire.

Kingpin stared at the photo, his brow creased in concentration. This woman’s face… he was certain he had seen it before. But like his assassin, he could not place it.

He set the file down and picked up his phone. “Investigate someone for me.” He relayed the sparse information he had on Mavuika. “I want to know everything about her.”

The call ended. Kingpin leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning under his weight, and closed his eyes.

That burly blond man, the sharp-looking man with black hair, and this woman…

Who were they? Where did they come from? And why had they come to New York?

He didn’t have the answers. But he felt a deep, unsettling premonition churning in his gut. It was a rare feeling for him, the undisputed Underground Emperor of New York. And every time this feeling had surfaced in the past, it had heralded the arrival of something significant. Something world-changing.

Kingpin took a slow, deep breath, the picture of calm control.

“Bullseye,” he said, speaking to the empty, opulent office. “Keep watching. Do not act rashly.”

…

As the night deepened, in an even more hidden corner of the city, several figures sat around a conference table in a dimly lit, sterile room. The air in the underground base was cold and still.

The man in the tailored suit at the head of the table studied the report before him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Kingpin’s people took a loss today,” he announced to the room.

The person beside him leaned forward. “A loss? Who was responsible?”

The man in the suit slid a photograph across the polished table. It was a grainy surveillance still, showing Thor standing at the mouth of an alley. Two of Kingpin’s unconscious henchmen lay at his feet.

“Just this one man?”

“There’s more,” the man in the suit said, pushing two more photos forward. One showed Loki, a smirk on his face. The other showed Mavuika, her expression serene.

The person next to him studied the images, a frown forming. “These three… what’s their background?”

The man in the suit shook his head. “Unknown. But there is one very interesting detail.” He paused for effect. “The ‘sun woman’ from the incident in Harlem… is this red-haired woman.”

The conference room fell silent for several seconds.

“It’s her?” someone finally asked, their voice tight with surprise.

“Yes,” the man in the suit nodded. “S.H.I.E.L.D. has locked down her information, but not all leaks can be plugged.” He tapped the photos spread across the table. “The woman Nick Fury met with personally, the woman who could defeat that monster with a single hand, has reappeared. And today, she had a conflict with Kingpin’s people.”

He lifted his gaze, looking at each person in the room.

“Don’t you all think this is an opportunity?”

“What kind of opportunity?” another figure asked from the shadows.

A thin, predatory smile spread across the face of the man in the suit. “An opportunity to test them.”

He stood and walked to a large map of New York City hanging on the wall. “Kingpin’s influence is too pervasive; we have never been able to gain a proper foothold. S.H.I.E.L.D. is treating this woman like a priceless treasure, and we still have no true measure of her power. Now—” He pointed a finger at a spot on the map. “They have clashed.”

He turned back to face the assembly, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Let Kingpin bear the brunt of this misfortune. We simply need to… give it a little push.”