The streets shook with a series of heavy impacts.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Each collision echoed like distant artillery, reverberating through the city blocks.
Vampires flooded the streets, surging toward Noah in a relentless wave.
To him—
They were slow.
Painfully slow.
He didn't waste time.
The moment the first one reached him, Noah stepped in and threw a punch.
The vampire's skull detonated on impact.
Bone fragments and blood burst outward with explosive force, the shockwave alone sending several others flying backward like ragdolls.
Noah pivoted smoothly.
He grabbed another vampire by the wrist, tightened his grip—
—and swung.
The body tore apart mid-motion, ripped loose by sheer force. The remains slammed into the crowd, knocking down a cluster of attackers.
Before the next group could close in, Noah crouched slightly—
—and launched forward.
He hit like a battering ram.
A dozen vampires shattered on impact, their bodies unable to withstand the force. Blood sprayed across the air as Noah tore straight through them, landing in the middle of another cluster.
They tried to regenerate.
It didn't matter.
Crushed skulls. Destroyed hearts. Torn bodies.
None of it could come back from that.
No weapons.
No special tools.
Just his hands.
And that was enough.
Every strike ended a life.
Every movement cleared space.
At this pace, it wouldn't even take long.
A few thousand hits at most—and they'd all be gone.
Am I going to get billed for this? Noah thought dryly, even as he fought.
Despite the chaos, part of his mind stayed clear.
Observing.
Analyzing.
Something was wrong.
These vampires—
They weren't reacting normally.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Even as their numbers dropped, they kept coming.
Driven by nothing but a single-minded urge to reach him.
Noah split another attacker cleanly in half and kicked the head off a second one without breaking rhythm.
"Hey," he called out, almost casually, "you guys want to talk this out?"
Another vampire lunged.
He caught it midair and crushed its skull in one hand.
"Seriously," Noah added, tossing the body aside. "You're all going to die if you keep this up."
No response.
Only more rushing figures.
Bodies flew.
Limbs scattered.
The street turned into a slaughterhouse.
High above, inside a secure command center—
Nick Fury watched the live feed in silence.
Even through surveillance footage, Noah's movements were hard to track.
Too fast.
Too efficient.
"Sir," Phil Coulson said quietly, "do we still bring in Professor X to contain this?"
Fury shook his head.
"No."
His eyes stayed locked on the screen.
"Not necessary anymore."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Is he a mutant… or something else?"
From what he could tell, none of Noah's individual traits were extreme on their own.
Not the strongest.
Not the fastest.
Not the toughest.
But—
There were no weaknesses.
Every category was pushed to a high level.
Balanced.
Refined.
Dangerous.
"Do we have anything on him?" Fury asked.
Coulson nodded, pulling up a file.
"Name's Noah Vale. American citizen. Student at Midtown High."
He hesitated briefly.
"His past isn't exactly clean. There are several robbery cases we can reasonably connect to him."
Fury flipped through the data without expression.
"A pattern of escalating behavior," Coulson added. "Personally, I wouldn't recommend recruitment."
Fury closed the file.
"Lock it down," he said. "Level Nine clearance only."
Coulson blinked, then nodded. "Understood."
Fury tapped the table lightly, still watching the battle unfold.
"Send a team with media coverage," he added after a moment. "Shape the narrative. Keep things under control."
"Yes, sir."
That night, they weren't the only ones watching.
At a private school upstate, a telepath in a wheelchair focused his mind on the city, observing the chaos from afar.
Elsewhere, in a hidden facility, an older man wearing a metal helmet watched the same footage with interest.
Five minutes later—
It was over.
Noah stood alone.
The street was silent.
Blood covered everything—buildings, pavement, debris.
Except him.
Not a single stain marked his clothes.
The force of his own movements had kept most of it from ever touching him. What little remained had been pushed away by the energy coursing through his body.
He exhaled slowly.
Then crushed the last vampire's head in his hand.
People watched from a distance.
Peeking from behind cover.
Afraid to step closer.
Noah glanced around once, then turned to leave.
He already knew what came next.
After tonight—
Attention.
Questions.
Pressure.
He had barely taken a step—
When a military jeep screeched to a stop in front of him.
The door opened.
A man in uniform stepped out.
Older. Stern.
Noah's eyes flicked briefly to the nameplate.
Thaddeus E. Ross.
"What can I do for you?" Noah asked.
Ross studied him for a moment, then spoke.
"You just saved me a lot of trouble."
His tone was blunt.
"If those things had spread through the city, this would've been a disaster."
He reached into his coat and handed over a card.
"If you ever need something—call."
Noah took it, a little surprised.
"…Wasn't expecting that."
Ross gave a short nod.
"Don't get the wrong idea," he said. "Just making sure useful people stay useful."
He stepped back toward the vehicle.
"Oh—and play nice when the press shows up. I'll buy you dinner this weekend."
"Press?" Noah echoed.
He didn't have to wait long.
Engines roared in the distance.
Within seconds, multiple vehicles pulled up around him.
Doors flew open.
Reporters rushed forward, microphones raised.
All aimed at him.