When the tanks pulled up to the edge of the crater, the sight was... somewhere between amusing and disturbing for the Chinese division. A single black armored figure was seated atop a giant loose pile of debris; the vivid reds and purples of Jotun flesh smeared both across his form and the pile, and bits of organic debris floating in the small lake surrounding the mass, with no sign of living Jotun nearby; though they could see scattered individuals fleeing off into the distance. As one of the officers emerged from the tank; bracing himself against the bitter cold as he emerged, waving at the figure; it waved back.

A radio signal. "This is Spike, on location. All substantial enemy resistance has been dealt with. I estimate three to four hundred enemy infantry have fled on foot to get away from the site. I'm remaining here in case any of these starships are just playing dead. I would recommend establishing a base-camp here, and starting to sweep the area."

A squad of Chinese special forces; mid-grade speedsters, all; started to move out; one of them saluting Spike as the team started pursuit of one of the enemy Jotun groups, even as others started examining the crater for good ways down; and the artillery took up positions, just in case it should become necessary.

Spike glanced down at the pile beneath him. By rapidly pulsing his density, he'd been able to turn this entire pile into a meatgrinder for the unfortunate Jotun within. Undoubtedly, some of those inside were still alive, but badly injured; if they could contain them inside the pile, they might be able to take prisoners; nab a few Jotun scientists, technicians, folks that could help use this alien technology in the rebuilding process.

He took a deep breath; even through the filters in his suit, the air felt intensely cold. While millions of gallons of ice had been flash-melted and vaporized during the recent fight, it was already cooling back down dramatically; it actually seemed as if it were starting to snow, and clouds were forming over the site, making his hunt for the enemy more difficult; he was mostly having to listen, now. He wasn't sure how that Chinese tank commander was managing it without a mask. He climbed up to the most recent highest point of the rubble, watching what he could see for any movement, listening for the familiar whine of the enemy engines; if they weren't anti-gravity, they might as well have been.

Suddenly... he could hear it. It sounded like multiple starships worth. He could have sworn that he'd crushed this entire pile badly enough none of the ships would work; he'd even deliberately ruptured a few reactors once he had them all in a neat pile. This should be a partially-molten pile of slag and corpses with a handful of lucky survivors. Where was that...

He looked up. An enormous, monstrous form was approaching, looming through the fog; roughly egg-like in shape, the construct had hundreds of metallic tendrils stretching out in every direction... and one suddenly slammed into the metal at Spike's feet. He could hear artillery and tanks firing uselessly; even see a handful of vivid pink energy blasts coming from somewhere; but the massive construct wasn't slowed in the slightest.

The world went weightless, as a hole formed beneath him. One moment, he was standing atop the wreckage of dozens of alien starships; the next... he was falling. As the giant mass writhed and twisted its way out of the crater, Spike fell into the dirty, slushy, water, thrashing as he tried to swim for the surface; almost instinctively changing his density before he caught himself; and settled down on the bottom of the steadily freezing lake. He could barely see bits of that wreckage being grabbed by tendrils and pulled away in the distance as he started stalking through the water, aiming for the edge; which seemed to be getting further away with each step, as more chunks of rock and ice fell into it

When his head finally broke water.... the Jotun ships and their wreckage were gone. The Chinese armor division that had been arriving and firing at the flying behemoth... was also gone. All that remained... were fog-clouds, water, corpses, and a few stray Jotun, hiding behind cover, watching the scene. Spike glanced up at the enormous, oppressive, fog-bank. Well, damn. That was the Lord of Iron. Again. His old... Nemesis? Was that a fair description? Didn't matter. What mattered was that the fog was so thick, the snow billowing so intensely, he had no idea which way the monstrosity had gone; or where any threats were.

He'd been impressed that day, years ago, when the Statue of Liberty had come to life and attacked him. He'd made a few jokes about whether the man was really the lord of Iron, since the statue was mostly copper, and had all sorts of other materials making up its structure. What if he could control other things than metal? Like... concrete? Or water?

Might as well just start calling him Lord. Or, well. Emperor, now. Spike wasn't completely certain he could actually fight the thing the Emperor had created without absolutely devastating consequences for the earth. Something that size, he'd need to actually be heavier than the earth itself for a few seconds to really crush it. Maybe he could somehow get it into space?

***

One moment, Jotun had his spear, its four tips aimed at the sky, seemingly at rest; a strange, immobile fixture, with his guards similarly ignoring the surroundings... as Butcher almost playfully rampaged around them, loudly jeering at the Jotun as he destroyed one after another; throwing enormous rocks, too big for the victim to dodge, and catching the injured victim to use as a projectile against his companions. Between the railgun impacts and the efforts of the two Titans, there was little semblance of organization remaining.

The next moment, with surprising speed... the giant crab had swept forward; the point aiming for Odin's belly; only to slam into the haft of another spear, and a powerful fist to slam into Jotun's skull; sending him skidding back several steps.

The ring of royal guards each slammed their spears into the ground once. Valkyrie and the two.. Valkyries.. watched them alertly; if they were to try to join the fight, they wanted to send a very clear message; but it seemed that they were also there primarily to watch.

Odin took the spear back, and hurled it upwards into the air, leaving himself unarmed for the moment; aside from the two massive, empowered fists; and leapt onto the alien, grabbing the spear and slamming both of them into the ground. As Odin leaned back, struggling to steal that deadly implement from Jotun's grip, the alien let out a growl; the alien struggled, just barely keeping its hold of the weapon.

And Gungnir slammed into one armored shoulder, piercing through it directly into the ice below. For just a moment, Jotun was pinned, shrieking in pain, as Odin yanked the spear away... and tossed it to Valkyrie's feet. When Jotun tore free with another agonized wail, leaving his limb hanging limp, he reached down to grip Gungnir; and the spear simply vanished. Odin raised it for a moment, smiling at the giant... before tossing his own spear to Valkyrie's feet as well.

Jotun looked down at the two weapons; then at Odin; he placed a hand on his shoulder, the armor glowing for a moment; and then flexed the limb experimentally; the six-limbed creature either had some sort of rapid healing ability, or magic... or both.

He leapt up, lashing out at Odin with four powerful claws; Odin ducked beneath him, grabbing one of the lowermost limbs the King had used for the leap; and spin, swinging him to slam head-first into the ice.

The king wasn't stunned for a moment; immediately lashing out; striking Odin for the first time with a kick to the torso that sent him flying, scraping across the ice; and immediately leaping up, trying to take advantage by pouncing on the one-eyed god; claws grabbing at arms, legs; super-heated blades of plasma emerging to try to cut through his armor.

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Odin reached up, grabbing Jotun's armored helmet; and as the plasma blades steadily melted through the armor, finding purchase in his body, leaving the smell of cooked electronic, molten steel, and burned flesh... He twisted... and yanked.

One moment, Jotun was desperately trying to butcher the Allfather. The next; he lay limply on the ground, Odin gripping his armored helmet; with the skull still inside. He took a deep breath, smiling, as he shoved the corpse off of himself, and pulled to his feet. He looked at Valkyrie. "Thanks for the boon. Would you care for a trophy?"

Valkyrie glanced at the helmet, then at Odin, whose armor was partially molten and falling off of his body, grinning. If she wasn't mistaken, it might be something akin to a courting gift. And he was one of the few men she'd consider worthy. But.... no. Odin was infertile. She needed to look elsewhere if she wanted siblings for Butch. And not Zeus. "...No. Not at the moment, anyway. You killed him. What about these guys?"

The royal bodyguards; at least, thats what they seemed to be; had dropped down, pressing their carapaces to the ice. One of them lifted his head. "Human. Slayer of Jotun. What is your name?"

Odin looked at her; this particular guard was likely a female, as she was even larger than the king himself. "While I have many names, the one I was born with was Odin. Do you surrender?"

The figure rose up to her full height, raising a weapon into the air. "Of course not. We were Jotun. Now, we are Odin. What is your will, my king?"

Odin gave a slow nod. "But not all of those who were Jotun. Just you?"

"Only his personal guard. Each of us challenged him once in the past, and lost; most of us in his youth, before he was king. We were beholden to him, not to the Kingdom. Unless one of us defeats you in a challenge, now that you have beaten him, we are now yours."

He nodded, looking around at the chaos of the massed Jotun vessels... and stopped, staring for a moment; as a Jotun starship started to lift off, engines powering up as it hurtled into the sky. He frowned, extending his hand; Gungnir abruptly arrived, slamming into his palm. He raised it up, preparing to throw... before a sudden bolt of lightning slammed into the vessel. Its angle of ascent tilted. Another bolt. It started to fall.

A brightly glowing humanoid figure slammed into it; and the vessel detonated in midair, a wave of superheated plasma spreading across the surface in a blinding flash.

Most of the Jotun who survived still stood; though their armor glowed red-hot. Many were now standing in flash-frozen puddles; and as debris rained down, the remaining Jotun started to flee; or throw down their weapons.

As Zeus landed beside Odin with a blast of thunder shaking the air, he glanced down at the deceased Jotun, then at the surrendered guards. "...You beat me to it, you old bastard. Not only have you killed more Titans than me, but more kings as well."

Butcher was starting to approach, frowning as he took in the scene; he'd heard his mother bad-mouth Zeus before.

Odin shrugged. "We both know I've always been better. You'll just have to step up to the plate ready to go the next time aliens invade. Though, after this trouncing, it won't be these crabs. Probably the Empire."

Zeus sighed. "Ugh. You and Apollo, always going on about this Empire. They were afraid of Cronos. Why would they go after the ones who killed him?"

"...." Odin looked around at the scene. The massed dead Jotun and ruined ships. The soldiers who had finally arrived, with the battle already over before they even had a chance to engage; the railguns having halted their fire. "Everyone was afraid of Cronos. I was afraid of Cronos, especially after the Ambrosia. If we hadn't had Apollo to help plan the attack, and taken him by surprise, he'd still be ruling the world today, and you and I would be another pair of rebellious corpses."

He grimaced. "And the Jotun would never have landed that scouting expedition on earth, and the Emperor would never dare to come close."

Zeus nodded, and clapped Odin on the shoulder. "Of course. But would you prefer a world with all of humanity beneath his feet? Best to have freedom, even if at a risk, yes?"

Odin frowned, wondering why Zeus had rehashed this tired old nonsense.. before realizing they had an audience. Including at least one woman Zeus hoped to impress. "We both know that if Apollo hadn't given his whole prophecy about your own sons overthrowing you if you did, you'd have just taken over as his replacement. Still. I think this battle is done. I'll allow the dead to rest, and we can get to work helping rebuild. I give it at least a century before the Emperor shows his face here. Perhaps we'll be ready by then."

He glanced at Valkyrie, then at Butcher. "We might have someone as dangerous as Cronos in that time, ready to send him scurrying back into the dark."

"Of course. We might. But we can't be certain. Its actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Without Apollo or the Oracle, you're the best option to get a good prophetic ritual going. I was considering inviting this Eyeball character in to replace Apollo on Olympus. We've always had someone who could foretell the future among us, and, well. Apollo made it clear that, in his own way, he was the better at it. Wondered if you'd help us figure out if that were a good idea."

***

Eyeball leaned back in his seat inside the mobile artillery, shaking his head. All that rush, the effort clearing out the drones, charging off to battle... and of course, Butcher and Valkyrie had it all handled. He hadn't even arrived at the scene yet, and the call was going out; the heavier mechanized units were turning around, alongside most of the metahumans, special forces, everyone.

They would be sweeping the area for stragglers and runners; but the battle was won. The war was over.

He smiled. He'd dealt absolutely devastating damage in that opening volley, and here he was, wanting to do more? He should be happy that they could clear this up... and get back home. Maybe start working on something to stop the spread of all of those bio-weapons before it got even more out of hand than it already was. They probably already had cures, considering all the regenerating metahumans who likely got infected by now; every one of them would have developed some means of fighting the diseases. Some might be replicated in a lab.

Wayson would probably be good at that, considering. He should look him up, the man's lab might not be in the best shape right now. "Note to self. Check on Dr. Wayson when I get back home." His helmet beeped in acknowledgement.

And then... it beeped. Incoming call. From... Director Thomes? Interesting. "Director, this is Eyeball. I might do a bit of Jotun hunting, but I'll be headed back north soon; this party seems to be drawing to a close."

"Of course. The king is dead, the Jotun are either scattered or surrendered. Some of them even switched sides. All of that is beside the point. The Emperor of Iron just grabbed everything that wasn't nailed down at the second battle sight, and is en route to the Chinese fleet. They're scattering, as are the allies that are accompanying them... but odds are good he'll be coming for the US fleet as well. Is La Famiglia willing to provide support on this?"

Eyeball blinked. That.... was a good question. The Emperor of Iron vs. the US Navy. Could he win? Probably. Could Eyeball and the other meta's turn the tide and take him out? Again, probably. Should he?

"...Get us a ride up there ASAP. Prioritize our heaviest hitters; me, Butcher, Valkyrie if they want to come."

"I've got a couple of the Russos here playing catch. They can get quite a few of your people here before the Emperor arrives. And Eyeball... Yesterday, I was the Director. Today, I'm the President of the United States. And I can tell you that if you people help save whats left of our navy from the Emperor, you'll be remembered in the days to come."

Eyeball disconnected the call; and he could see something coming suddenly, the world was a blur of movement. He blinked; and triggered his Reflex. He was... being carried. By... Ahh. Of course. Swiftblade. His reflex kicked in just before she arrived; he knew she was there to carry him off, like a knight with a princess, in a fairly undignified fashion. Still. He went limp, relaxed... and watched her yank open the door, pick him up, carry him out... leaving it open behind her. That was impolite. Poor driver was going to have a bad day.

After a few seconds of sprinting, he held a single finger in front of her face; the wind pushing against him with so much force it was hard to manage. Her ability to handle this was.... dramatic.

He reached up; and yanked the battery out of his helmet. They were in the middle of the arctic tundra; the only possibly listening device was the one he was wearing. He set it down on the ice. "Carrymeakilometerthatwayplease."

His words were a blur. The Reflex not quite gone yet, as Penelope yanked him away... and abruptly stopped. The air was... frigid. Unbelievably so. It felt like he might freeze from the inside out before he could get back to that helmet; he covered his mouth with his gloves, scrunching up, grimacing. "Ooof. Okay. Gotta make this fast. Penelope, you're the next in line to rule the family. Whatever you say, Nicky will go with. This Navy battlegroup up there, if we support it, maybe it can take out Thompson. If not, I doubt anything will. Maybe the Olympians, but I don't think they'd try."

Penelope was about to correct him for calling her the wrong name while she was geared up; but shook her head. "... Yeah. I can see that. What's the point?"

"Thompson wants to be Emperor of the world, and is about to give it a good solid try. It may even work. In theory, we would want to stop that, since La Famiglia is part of that world. But. How would you like to be Queen of North America?"