Chapter 15 - Interlude one week after the battle

A week had passed since the Battle of Greenwich. The streets still bore the scars of the chaos—cracks in the ground, partially destroyed buildings, and civilians trying to resume a normal life after witnessing the impossible.

News channels continuously aired footage of the devastated streets, buildings torn apart by red energy explosions, and the remnants of the battle between Thor and Malekith. Experts debated the true nature of the event, with some calling it a "large-scale extraterrestrial incident" while others dared to describe it as a "battle between gods." One thing was certain: the people of London no longer saw their city the same way.

On a television screen in an electronics store window, a reporter in an impeccable suit spoke gravely to the camera.

"… according to authorities, the number of casualties has risen to 137 injured and 23 dead. The British government has yet to officially comment on the incident, but several sources claim that high-level scientists, including Dr. Erik Selvig, played a key role in stabilizing the catastrophe."

On a talk show panel, another expert spoke with skepticism.

"We saw similar creatures attack New York a few years ago, and now it's happening again. What are they hiding from us? Why are these events increasing? Are we facing another extraterrestrial invasion that is being downplayed to the public?"

Mainstream media picked up the story, some broadcasting increasingly absurd theories. One particularly enthusiastic host declared:

"And that's not all! Witnesses claim to have seen another being in the battle. A boy floating in the air, using ice and wind against the invaders! Some say he was just a mirage, others that he was a mutant—or worse… a ghost!"

The entire panel burst into laughter, but the host continued, displaying a still image from an amateur video: a pale silhouette, barely discernible between swirling snow flurries.

"This is one of the few captured images of this mysterious individual, whom some have begun calling 'Jack Frost.'"

The image spread across social media at lightning speed. Some dismissed it as a hoax, a fabrication by internet users seeking attention, while others actively sought to prove his existence.

Under a YouTube video titled Is Jack Frost Real?, the comments exploded:

"I was in Greenwich that day! My eight-year-old son kept saying a boy made of ice was fighting the aliens, but no one believed him!"

"He could be a secret Avenger or a government experiment!"

"We all know this is fake. Come on, guys, stop believing in fairy tales."

"Wait a minute, Thor manipulates lightning—why couldn't someone else control ice?"

Meanwhile, at S.H.I.E.L.D. and Beyond

Within S.H.I.E.L.D. and other governmental agencies, the mystery of "Jack Frost" took on a far more serious tone. Satellite images had captured unexplained weather anomalies during the battle, and audio recordings revealed Asgardian soldiers mentioning an ally with winter-based powers.

Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D., skimmed through the files on his desk. One document stood out—an individual with no recorded presence on cameras, yet whose existence was confirmed by the testimonies of Thor and Jane Foster. Jack Frost. An alleged "spirit of winter," according to accounts.

Fury entered the interrogation room where Jane Foster was waiting. She looked exhausted but determined.

"Dr. Foster, can you describe this Jack Frost?" Fury asked as he took a seat.

Jane nodded. "He's… unique. His abilities defy all known scientific logic. He manipulates ice, wind, and moves at incredible speed. But more than that, he seems to exist on a different plane. Many can't even see him, yet he was undeniably there. Without him, we wouldn't have stopped Malekith."

Fury took note of every detail. "Do you believe he's a threat?"

She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "No. He's powerful, but he has never shown any hostility toward us. He protects people—he does what he believes is right."

Fury turned to Thor, who was sitting in the corner, arms crossed.

"And you? What do you think?"

Thor smirked at the mention of Jack. "Jack Frost is a warrior, though he doesn't like to call himself one. He fights by instinct, protects by nature. He could be a powerful ally. But he follows his own path, and I doubt he would ever agree to abide by an organization's rules."

Fury closed the file and stood up. "Interesting."

Elsewhere, in the Shadows…

Meanwhile, another organization was making similar observations.

At the heart of Hydra's secret council, Alexander Pierce examined reports from embedded agents. Jack Frost—an unknown entity until now—had intervened in Greenwich with a power beyond expectations.

"He doesn't appear in any satellite images, no recorded footage. Yet he was there," Pierce murmured, thoughtful.

One of his agents nodded. "A ghost, sir. A spirit. Some children claim they saw a 'snow boy' fighting alongside Thor. But no adult could confirm it."

Pierce tapped his fingers on the table, a thin smile forming on his lips. "If someone possesses such powers, then he could be a problem. We need to keep an eye on him."

Another council member asked, "Should we capture him?"

Pierce shook his head. "No. Not yet. We don't know what he is. If he's as elusive as they say, we must first learn more. But one thing is certain: we cannot let him remain off our radar."

He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the document in front of him.

"The Insight Project will proceed as planned."

In the Depths of Toronto…

Darkness spread over Toronto, a shifting veil slithering through deserted alleys. The air vibrated with an unfamiliar energy, unlike anything he had encountered before.

Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, emerged slowly from the shadows, his sharp grin glinting in the dim streetlights.

He sensed the difference immediately. The air here wasn't steeped in the same magic as his old world. No Tooth Fairies, no Easter Bunny, not even a trace of that accursed Jack Frost. Everything was… different. More tangible. More raw. And yet, something still felt familiar: fear.

He moved soundlessly through the dark streets, blending into the shadows cast by the towering skyscrapers. His essence stretched into every corner, soaking in the whispers of dread from the city's restless dreamers. This world might not be his, but its people still felt fear. And fear was universal.

As he explored this bustling, sleepless city, he caught murmurs—names rising from the depths of the collective consciousness. The Avengers… A group of protectors, warriors defending this world from cosmic threats and nightmare creatures.

He smirked. Heroes. Always heroes.

Closing his eyes, he extended his essence deeper into the darkness, reaching for familiar presences. But there was nothing. No jolly aura of Santa Claus, no flickering light of the Tooth Fairy, not even the mischievous laughter of Jack Frost.

They weren't here.

A sinister grin stretched across his face. This world had no Guardians.

A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped his throat, echoing through the empty streets, creeping into the dreams of unsuspecting citizens. If no one was protecting this world… then who would stand against fear itself?

Pitch let his darkness spread further, caressing the nightmares of the innocent, brushing against the weak minds with the promise of eternal night.

If this world had yet to taste his true power… then he would gladly introduce them to it.

After all, dreams are nothing without nightmares.

And he, Pitch Black, was finally free to reign without opposition.