A flash of red light dropped from the sky like a meteor, slamming into the roof of a car on the viaduct. The metal crumpled under the impact, glass flying outward in all directions like shards of ice. Smoke billowed into the air, and for a second, everything went still.
Inside the ruined vehicle, Tony Stark stirred, groaning as he tried to focus.
"Okay..." he muttered, helmet flickering back online, "...now I know what that was."
He had barely gotten the words out when a low humming buzz filled the sky above.
Looking up, Tony's heart dropped.
A swarm of Chitauri soldiers hovered above him, floating with eerie synchronization. Their grotesque faces twisted in rage, alien blasters locked onto his position. Tony's armor system blared warnings, but he didn't need an AI to tell him what came next.
"Oh, crap."
A rain of energy blasts poured from the sky.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions engulfed the viaduct, sending pieces of concrete and flaming debris into the air. The Chitauri were relentless—blasting in a synchronized rhythm meant to destroy anything still breathing beneath them. Even Tony's cutting-edge MK armor groaned and cracked under the constant barrage.
In the HUD, damage reports began piling up. Plasma shielding was down. Armor integrity at 42%. Cooling system overheating.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.," he shouted above the chaos, "I need support! Now!"
The voice responded calmly despite the urgency.
"Sir, Hammer and Apple Pie protocols are en route. Estimated arrival: one second."
Tony cursed, "I don't have one second. Divert all remaining energy to the thrusters!"
"Understood."
With a sharp jolt, the repulsors on his boots roared to life, launching Tony into the air with full power. He rocketed away from the crumbling overpass, dodging death by inches as explosions chased his tail.
But this wasn't just Tony's fight.
All of New York was a battlefield.
Aliens rained from the sky like locusts, infesting buildings, attacking civilians, and destroying anything that moved. Chitauri warships soared overhead, raining fire on streets below. The skies were choked with smoke. The ground trembled with destruction.
Police forces and emergency responders were overwhelmed.
Superheroes fought alongside them—Spider-Man swinging through collapsing buildings, Daredevil moving with deadly grace through alleyways, and Luke Cage shielding civilians with his own body.
Even street-level gangsters, usually the city's plague, had picked up guns and joined the resistance.
There were no sides anymore. Only survival.
The world watched.
From Times Square to Tokyo, from Johannesburg to Moscow, screens were filled with live images of the chaos in New York. Smartphones, TVs, computers—all broadcast the brutal truth: Earth was under siege.
People cried. Others shouted encouragement.
"Come on, Iron Man! You got this!"
"Someone shoot those flying cockroaches!"
"Why are our soldiers not there yet?! Isn't this supposed to be the strongest military in the world?!"
But amid the prayers and support, some disturbing voices crept in.
"The great evil has come. Humanity's time is over. Surrender to the gods."
It didn't take long for those messages to be met with fury.
"You sick bastard. Go join them if you love aliens so much!"
"Let's send him to the battlefield with a target on his back. See if the 'gods' spare him."
The trolls vanished quickly, their posts drowned in hate. Some deleted their accounts. Others were simply too ashamed to return.
But the war was not slowing.
If anything—it was escalating.
Manhattan, once the shining heart of New York, was now ground zero.
And it was falling.
The Chitauri kept pouring in from the portal above Stark Tower. The initial invasion had been contained in midtown, but now it was spreading—into Harlem, into Queens, even to Brooklyn.
Tony and Steve knew it.
Everyone knew it.
New York was losing.
At the Pentagon, red alerts blared.
Inside the White House Situation Room, the President stood with clenched fists as advisors argued and shouted. One word echoed through the chamber:
"Nuclear strike."
It wasn't just a suggestion anymore. It was on the table.
Back on the battlefield, Steve Rogers called out through his earpiece, his voice strained.
"Tony, there's too many! We need to shut down the portal, or this city's going to be dust."
Tony dodged a blast midair, gritting his teeth.
"**You think I don't know that?! Loki's hiding like a coward! I've scanned the whole skyline—wait..."
He paused.
In that moment, something extraordinary happened.
The sky split open.
A beam of rainbow-colored energy shot downward, crashing into the rooftop of one of Manhattan's tallest buildings.
Every head turned.
Even the Chitauri paused.
Tony's heart raced.
"That's Bifrost."
Thor, battling in Central Park, lifted his head. "Heimdall! It's her! She's here!"
Then she arrived.
From within the light, a figure emerged.
Bella.
She stepped forward slowly, the last gleams of Bifrost fading behind her. She wore a black armored dress, sleek yet deadly, and a long sword was planted at her side like a flag declaring conquest. Her black gloves shimmered, each fingertip sharpened like a talon. Her boots struck the rooftop with power in every step.
And her hair—
Golden. Flowing like a crown of flame in the wind.
Her face was unreadable—neither smiling nor scowling, but commanding. There was no need for introduction. No speeches.
She looked like a queen. No, a conqueror.
All around the world, eyes locked onto the screens.
Live broadcasts caught her image perfectly.
The Goddess of Judgment had arrived.
"SHE'S HERE!"
"I TOLD YOU! I KNEW SHE WOULDN'T ABANDON US!"
"She's so beautiful—like an ancient warrior goddess!"
"Who needs a boyfriend? I want to serve her!"
"Men, step aside. She's mine. I'll bear her children."
Social media servers lagged, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of excitement, praise, worship, and obsession.
She had transcended celebrity.
Bella was legend.
Even those who didn't know her name a minute ago were now captivated by her presence. Just standing there, she radiated dominance.
The battlefield stilled. Even the alien invaders looked up, drawn to her like moths to flame.
The Chitauri—soulless as they were—turned by the hundreds. Their ugly masked faces lifted, eyes hidden behind lenses. But for the first time, there was hesitation.
Then...
"ROOOAAAAAARRRR!!"
A collective cry erupted from every Chitauri unit within range. A shriek of defiance—or perhaps fear masked as fury—the roar of a swarm recognizing a threat.
The sound shook the clouds.
And Bella didn't even flinch.
She didn't need to say anything.
Her expression said it all:
"You dare come to my world. You will now face judgment."
To be continued...
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