Nick Fury stood in the command center of the Helicarrier, his one good eye fixed on the screens in front of him. The World Security Council stared back at him through the monitor. Their faces were grim. Determined.
And incredibly stupid.
"Director Fury," one of them said. "The Council has made a decision."
"I recognize the Council has made a decision," Fury said, his voice hard. "But given that it's a stupid-ass decision, I've elected to ignore it."
"Director—"
"You want to nuke Manhattan," Fury cut in. "Drop a missile on millions of civilians. While my team is down there fighting to save the city."
"The Avengers are clearly outmatched," another Council member said. "This invasion is spreading. We need to contain it before—"
"Before what? Before we give them a chance to actually stop it?" Fury leaned forward. "It's been less than an hour. The Avengers are holding the line. Spider-Man is out there saving people. And you want to blow them all to hell?"
"This is bigger than a few heroes, Director. We're talking about a potential extinction-level event."
"Then let the heroes do their damn job." Fury's jaw clenched. "You give that order, and I will find a way to stop it. Are we clear?"
The screen went black.
"Son of a bitch," Fury muttered.
He turned to the tactical displays. Multiple screens showing different angles of the battle in Manhattan. Iron Man engaging one of those massive Leviathan creatures. Captain America and Thor fighting through waves of Chitauri soldiers on the ground. Spider-Man swinging through the streets, webbing up aliens left and right.
And then there was the unknown.
One screen focused on a figure in dark blue armor. Glowing holographic shields on the shoulders. Taking down Chitauri with brutal efficiency. Flying. Punching through their ranks like they were made of paper.
"Who the hell is that?" Fury said to no one in particular.
He zoomed in. The armor was sleek. Advanced. Not Stark tech. Not anything he recognized from any database.
An unknown variable. Fury hated unknown variables.
But at least this one was on their side. For now.
The armored figure grabbed a Chitauri soldier and threw it through a car window. Crushed another one's weapon with his bare hands. The aliens' energy blasts bounced off the armor like they were nothing.
Strong. Fast. Durable. Whoever this was, he had serious power.
"Director," Maria Hill's voice cut through his thoughts. Urgent. Worried.
Fury turned. "What is it?"
"We have a bird in motion. Hangar bay seven."
Fury's eye widened. "What?"
"Those motherfuckers."
Fury took off running. Down the corridor. Agents scrambling out of his way. He burst into the armory. Grabbed a rocket launcher. Loaded it.
He ran to the hangar bay. The jet was already taxiing. Engines warming up. Preparing for launch.
"Not today," Fury growled.
He raised the launcher. Aimed. Fired.
The rocket streaked across the hangar. Hit the jet dead center. The explosion was massive. Fire and smoke billowing everywhere. The jet crumpled. Destroyed.
Fury lowered the launcher, breathing hard.
"Director!" Hill's voice crackled over the comms. "Second jet is away. Repeat, second jet is away."
"Damn it!"
Fury ran to the window. Watched as another jet screamed off the flight deck. Banking toward Manhattan. The missile loaded in its bay.
He'd stopped one. But the other got through.
The nuke was heading straight for the city.
Fury pressed his hand against the glass. His jaw clenched.
"Come on, Stark," he muttered. "Don't let me down."
The Avengers were down there. Spider-Man. That unknown man in the armor. Millions of civilians.
All of them about to be vaporized if someone didn't stop that missile.
Fury could only watch.
And hope.
=====
"Why!"
Smack.
"Won't"
Smack.
"You!"
Smack.
"Stop"
Smack.
"Coming!"
I punched the alien's face over and over until it stopped moving. Until it was just... done.
God.
I stumbled back, breathing hard inside the helmet. My fists were shaking. Not from fear. From exhaustion. From the fact that I'd been fighting for what felt like hours and they just kept coming.
More portals. More soldiers. More of those flying whale things dropping reinforcements like this was some kind of sick video game.
I looked around. The street was a disaster. Bodies everywhere. Alien bodies, thank god, not human ones. But still. The destruction was insane. Cars overturned. Buildings on fire. Concrete cratered from energy blasts.
And I was right in the middle of it.
Me. Adam Maxwell. The kid from Kansas who couldn't even make the basketball team.
Now I was punching aliens in the face until they stopped breathing.
How did my life get to this point?
I heard screaming. More civilians running. An alien was chasing them down the street.
Right. No time to have an existential crisis.
I launched into the air. Caught up to the alien in seconds. Grabbed it from behind. Slammed it into the pavement.
It didn't get back up.
The civilians kept running. Didn't even look back. Smart. Get as far away from this mess as possible.
I should probably do the same. I was getting tired. Really tired. The armor was doing all the heavy lifting but my brain felt like mush from maintaining flight, dodging blasts, coordinating my movements.
But I couldn't stop. Not yet.
More aliens were coming down the street. Five of them. Moving as a unit.
Great. Just great.
I touched down. Planted my feet. Clenched my fists.
Alright. Round... I don't even know anymore. Round fifty? Round hundred?
Whatever.
Bring it on.
Then—
Swoosh.
I saw Iron Man fly over me.
Wait.
Is that a fucking missile?
Are they seriously planning to nuke us?
My blood ran cold. A nuke. They were going to drop a nuke on Manhattan. While we were still here. While millions of people were still here.
What the actual hell?
Iron Man grabbed the missile. Changed direction. Shot straight up toward the portal with that thing strapped to his back.
Thank god. He was going to divert it. Send it through the portal instead of letting it hit the city.
But still. Fuck the government or whoever was responsible for that decision.
Can't they see we're still fighting? Can't they see we're actually holding the line? Did they forget about the millions of lives on this island? Captain America, Iron man and whoever that blonde guy? Spider-Man? Me?
Apparently none of that mattered to them. Just blow it all up and hope for the best.
Assholes.
I watched Iron Man disappear through the portal with the nuke. The blue energy swirled around him and then he was gone.
Please come back. Please don't die up there.
My mind immediately went to Mom.
God. Mom.
I hope she was okay. She was working today. Her hospital was on the other side of the city. Nowhere near Manhattan. Nowhere near the invasion.
At least, I hoped not. What if the aliens spread that far? What if they reached her hospital? What if she got caught in the crossfire?
No. Don't think about that. Focus. She's fine. She has to be fine.
The five aliens in front of me opened fire.
Right. Still had a job to do.
I dodged left. The blasts went wide. I shot forward and slammed into the lead alien. Took it down hard.
Four left.
Before I could move toward the others, they just... dropped.
All of them. At the same time. Like someone had flipped a switch and turned them off. Their weapons clattered to the ground. Their bodies went limp. They collapsed where they stood.
What the hell?
I looked around. More aliens falling. Everywhere. Down the street. On the rooftops. The ones that had been running toward me just seconds ago now lying motionless on the pavement.
Even the giant flying whale things. They went down too. Crashing into buildings. Sliding across the street. Just dead weight falling from the sky.
Is it finished? Is it done?
I looked up at the portal. It was closing. The blue energy vortex shrinking in on itself. Getting smaller. Smaller. Until it was just gone. Nothing but normal sky left behind.
Holy shit.
We did it. We actually did it.
My legs gave out. I dropped to my knees. Then just laid back on the pavement. Exhausted. Every part of me aching despite the armor.
Thank god.
Thank god it's over.
I just laid there staring at the sky. Breathing hard. My heart was still racing. Adrenaline still pumping through my veins even though the fighting was done.
People were starting to emerge from buildings. Cautiously. Looking around at the destruction. At the alien bodies. Some were crying. Some were helping the injured. Some were just standing there in shock.
I should probably get up. Help them. Do something.
But I couldn't move. Not yet. I was too tired. Too drained.
Just a few more minutes. Then I'd get up.
Just a few more minutes.