The Asgard Stability Office's request for battle, the Goddess of Death's interests
Within the Negative Zone, the air above the Bone Throne remained as cold and thin as ever.
Lynn's fingertips silently traced the armrest of the Throne, while the holographic screen in front of him quietly played live footage from New York. There was no sound, only chaotic images: burning cars, panicked crowds, and stiff yet efficient Iron Man appearing and disappearing in the smoke and dust.
This is footage coming from Nick Fury's makeshift command center; the signal is weak and filled with the noise of despair.
Lynn's gaze remained calm and unwavering. He didn't even acknowledge the "request for assistance beyond his immediate superiors" that Fury had just sent via encrypted channel, its wording so humble it was almost pleading.
He knew that someone was more anxious than he was.
This application was less intended for him and more for the department heads who were anxious about their "achievements."
Sure enough, less than thirty seconds later, a pitch-black spatial rift, carrying the chill unique to the underworld and capable of freezing the soul, silently tore open not far from the Throne.
Hela emerged from it.
Today, instead of her usual menacing, spiked War Armor, she wore a set of Asgard ceremonial armor in dark green and black and gold. The shoulder armor had smooth lines, and the skirt was dignified, making her look more like a commander about to attend a royal council than a killing god preparing to step onto the battlefield. Her seaweed-like black hair was meticulously combed, and her face even carried a formulaic, superior air of composure.
She first bowed slightly, giving Lynn on the Throne an impeccable salute of submission, but her gaze did not immediately fall on Lynn; instead, it landed on the chaotic surveillance footage.
"My lord," Hela's voice was steady and firm, devoid of any emotion, "I have just noticed that the secular agencies in Midgard have suffered a severe lapse in response to a low-intensity technological rebellion."
She was extremely particular about her words.
The term "technological rebellion" defines Ultron's uprising as an internal problem, rather than an external invasion. The term "incompetent response" directly labels S.H.I.E.L.D.. under Fury's leadership as "incompetent."
Lynn didn't speak, but simply raised her chin slightly, signaling her to continue.
With tacit approval, Hela took half a step forward, the divine power of death emanating from her perfectly concealed beneath her armor, making her appear more like a pure, high-ranking official giving a work report.
"S.H.I.E.L.D..'s sluggishness and inefficiency are severely damaging the credibility of the new order you've established." Hela spoke slowly, but every word was weighty. "In the eyes of the general public, this loss of control represents a power vacuum. It breeds unnecessary panic and attracts the attention of other potential threats. They will think that your rule... is not invincible."
She skillfully elevated a local security incident to a political level concerning the very foundation and reputation of Lynn's rule.
This is not a request, but a statement of a serious problem that urgently needs to be addressed and concerns the "face of the Lord".
A faint smile played on Lynn's lips. He looked at Hela as if admiring a work of art striving for self-evolution. She was no longer the Conqueror who only knew how to solve everything with violence; she had learned to package her demands and to use the interests of her superiors to secure projects for her department.
"So," Lynn finally spoke, his voice calm, "What's your suggestion?"
"The ' Asgard Stability Affairs Office ' has been initially established," Hela immediately replied, clearly having prepared her entire explanation beforehand. "My undead Undead Legion possess all-weather, high-intensity combat capabilities, resistant to conventional physical damage, sufficient to completely eradicate this group of rebellious machines in the shortest possible time with minimal friendly casualties."
She paused, then emphasized, "I hereby formally submit my request for combat readiness. I request that my department take full control of the handling of this emergency in New York, and temporarily raise the extraordinary security defense level of the entire Earth to a wartime state, under the unified command and control of my department."
The true intentions are revealed when the map is unrolled.
Suppressing the riots was just a pretext; her real purpose was to take over completely and centrally manage the situation. She wanted to use this pretext to completely undermine Fury's crumbling "cleanup office" and rightfully seize control of Earth's military power.
Once this precedent is set, Fury will be relegated to the sidelines, only responsible for writing reports and cleaning up the scene, should any future supernatural events occur on Earth. She, on the other hand, will become the de facto Commander-in-Chief of Earth's armed forces under Lynn's command.
Lynn leaned back on the Throne, his fingers interlaced, and quietly watched her.
A brief silence fell over the Negative Zone, with only the silent flickering of firelight on the monitor screen.
Hela could feel an invisible pressure descending upon her. It wasn't the pressure of power, but a scrutiny from a higher level of authority. Lynn's gaze seemed to pierce through her armor, see through all her carefully crafted words, and reach her naked desire for power and glory.
"Your initiative deserves recognition, Hela." After a long pause, Lynn spoke slowly, his first words being praise, "As the head of a newly established department, it's very good to have this willingness to share the burden."
This is standard superior tone: first affirm the attitude, then discuss specific issues.
Hela's heart tightened; she knew the crucial part was about to begin.
"However," Lynn changed the subject, "The role I've assigned to your department is 'Conquest and Deterrence,' its core function being external expansion. This matter, however, is about 'internal stability.' These are two completely different domains, requiring two entirely different working methods. Using a tomahawk to peel an apple isn't impossible, but it's easy to end up smashing the table along with it."
He casually dismissed the rationality of the Hela plan by addressing the very issue of "departmental functional positioning."
"The most complete stability comes from the most absolute destruction," Hela immediately retorted, a belief deeply ingrained in her. "Once all unstable factors are completely eliminated, order will naturally follow."
"That sounds reasonable." Lynn nodded noncommittally, leaning forward slightly, a hint of amusement flashing in his deep eyes that even Hela found unsettling.
"Alright. Since you have such a great passion for 'maintaining stability,' I can give you this opportunity."
Hela's breath hitched.
"I approve your request to join the fight," Lynn continued. "You can mobilize your Undead Legion to deal with the trouble in New York. But..."
He drew out the last syllable, each word like a wedge driven deep into Hela's soul.
"... This operation will not be counted as a 'conquest' achievement, but rather as a performance evaluation of your ' Stability Maintenance Office.' It will be an assessment of your 'surgical precision strike' capabilities."
Hela frowned slightly; she vaguely sensed that something was amiss.
Lynn lightly tapped his finger in the air, and a virtual document composed purely of Psychic Power floated in front of Hela. The title of the document was in cold, official font. "Collateral Damage Assessment Standards (Trial) for This Abnormal Mechanical Cleanup Operation in New York City".
"I will establish a 'civilian casualty assessment indicator'," Lynn's voice became as cold and precise as Scalpel. "During the operation, for each unauthorized civilian casualty, the indicator will increase by 0.01%. For each civilian building destroyed beyond the necessary engagement range, the indicator will increase by 0.05%. Casualties to the New York Police Department and S.H.I.E.L.D.. field personnel will not be included in the indicator; they are expendable."
"Your overall target for the entire operation is 1%."
"Once this threshold is exceeded," Lynn's gaze locked onto Hela, his smile turning utterly sinister, "Your request to expand your right to defend yourself will be permanently rejected. Simultaneously, your ' Asgard Stability Office's' resource allocation for the next year will be reduced by ninety percent."
"Conversely, if you can keep the target within 0.1% and successfully complete the task, then Fury's position is yours."
Hela was completely stunned.
She stood there like a statue, her mind racing.
She had considered countless possibilities. Lynn might refuse because he feared her military power, or he might send Wanda or Jyn to counterbalance her, or he might propose a harsh spoils distribution plan.
But she never expected Lynn to respond to her in this way.
He agreed.
But he turned what she excelled at—a decisive and swift victory—into a delicate exercise she was least skilled at, a dance in shackles.
In a city teeming with civilians, how can an army of undead slay another group of steel constructs, while simultaneously ensuring that vases and windows remain unbroken?
This is no longer a war; it is an absurd test, one that carries a heavy sense of humiliation.
But could she refuse?
cannot.
To refuse outright would be tantamount to admitting that one is only capable of brute destruction and lacks the "precision strike" ability Lynn spoke of. It would be equivalent to admitting that one's grand discourse on "stability" was nothing but empty talk.
That would not only mean losing this opportunity, but also losing Lynn's opinion of her abilities.
This was an open conspiracy. A conspiracy she knew was a trap, yet had no choice but to grit her teeth and jump in.
Hela's chest heaved violently, but she forcefully suppressed it. She raised her head, and in her beautiful eyes, the defiant arrogance and fanaticism of the Goddess of Death rekindled.
"As you wish, my lord," she said, each word deliberate, her voice filled with a morbid, ignited fighting spirit, "I will prove to you that death... too can be an art."
"I look forward to your work." Lynn leaned back on his Throne and waved.
Hela bowed again, then turned and stepped into the still unclosed spatial rift. In the last moment before her figure disappeared, Lynn seemed to see a cruel yet excited smile curl up at the corner of her lips.
It was as if a top surgeon had just taken on an extremely challenging, yet world-renowned, high-difficulty surgery.
Lynn watched as the crack slowly closed, his gaze returning to the chaotic New York.
He knew that when Hela's Undead Legion descended with an unprecedented level of "civilization," the newborn hiding deep within the internet, proud of its cold logic, would receive an absurd "surprise."