Mothman420's rollerblades screamed across the asphalt, weaving through the sudden influx of police and emergency vehicles. His chest was heaving, but the high of pure, unadulterated chaos was the strongest energy drink he'd ever had. The screen on his live-stream interface was spiking—hundreds of thousands of concurrent viewers. He had the scoop of the century.
"Folks, you are witnessing the end of an era!" Mothman420 gasped into his headset mic, his voice thick with adrenaline. "I followed the big 'Hand'—yeah, I know right!—and then I saw a bug man go sailing into an Amazon warehouse—boom! Then I saw the fight! A chick with wings and a tail, and she threw razor frisbees! And the big silver mech-looking Hand blasted down the flying snake lady, Marla! They've taken the fight right to the top of CENO Tower folks!"
He skated hard toward the massive pillar of smoke rising from the financial district. The sirens were deafening, but then, a new sound—the deafening roar of the helicopter explosion—immediately followed.
"This is too much, folks!" Mothman yelled, his heart hammering against his ribs as he realized the burning wreckage was kareening toward him!
Mothman panted hard, adrenaline screaming through his veins. He executed a rapid series of 'cross-overs,' picking up speed as he cut hard to the left. At the last possible moment, the plummeting helicopter struck a traffic light, altering its trajectory just enough to send it tearing past Mothman's right side, likely saving his life.
The severed rotor blades immediately snagged live wires from the downed light pole, and the helicopter exploded one final time as the transformer blew, throwing out searing, jagged arcs of raw voltage that lit up the smoke-filled intersection.
Mothman decided to hold the footage for a moment, switching from the live feed to local recording.
Shaken but alive, Mothman slammed on his heel brake. He skated closer towards the smoking, sleek, aerodynamic helicopter frame, frantically glancing up and down at his Z-phone. The feed cut suddenly. "Damnit all to hell! They cut me out! Z-tube cut me off," he cursed softly, slapping his Z-phone. It was a familiar move by CENO—or whoever was left—to suppress the narrative. As Mothman was cursing to himself, the wreckage of the chopper began to shift. He looked up, his jaw dropping. "Whu, what's that!"
Two faintly glowing cherubs, no bigger than a man's fist, circled gently above the smoking wreckage. "What in the blue blazes..." Mothman squinted, he decided he didn't like what he was seeing, ''his spider sense was tingling'' as he would like to say.
"Ahhhh... I'm gettin' outta 'here," Mothman muttered. He pumped furiously, executing a few quick cross-overs into a nearby alley where he ducked behind a trashcan and watched the smoking wreckage from afar.
Bang!
With a boom, the escape door to the chopper went sailing off into the night. From the fiery wreckage, a figure emerged. Her uniform was torn and scorched, but she was walking, completely upright.
Mothman watched, his camera rolling, as the strange angelic cherubs slowly faded, dissolving into wisps of faint light around Mya Tarq. The bizarre sight vanished, leaving only the grim reality of the surviving Commander.
Tarq barely spared a glance at the smoking wreckage. She was injured, favoring one leg, but her composure was absolute. She limped a few steps to the edge of the intersection, and seconds later, a sleek, black limousine—impossibly clean amidst the chaos—screeched to a halt beside her. Tarq pulled herself into the vehicle, and it immediately sped away, vanishing into the maze of flashing lights and traffic.
Mothman didn't hesitate. He knew the footage of the chopper crash and Tarq's survival was gold, but the main event—the tower—was still unfolding. He pumped his rollerblades harder than ever, skating away from the crash site and towards the base of the massive building.
He arrived just as the Red Alert warning systems were reaching their final, frantic peak. Sirens were shrieking, and the ground was trembling with the seismic force of the initiated sequence.
Mothman slammed to a stop, his jaw dropping. He witnessed the impossible:
A tiger-striped girl! She was covered in sleek black tiger strips that gleamed like an alloy, and she had a tail that glowed blue on its bulbus tip, Felicity, clutching her data gear, and the massive, lumbering form of The Hand—now carrying the limp husks of Marla and Koba—bursting through the skeletal remains of the ground floor lobby. They were a chaotic rush of organic and mechanical power, scrambling clear of the demolition zone.
They cleared the perimeter just as the final, internal detonations triggered.
But the terrifying, deep groan of the tower beginning its controlled, catastrophic collapse. "Oh my God, oh my God! The tower is going down!" he yelled, skating past a row of stunned onlookers. The entire CENO Tower buckled, its structure collapsing inward in a massive, controlled demolition. The sheer force of the implosion sent a plume of pulverized concrete and smoke hundreds of feet into the air.
Mothman dropped his Z-phone, forgetting to film for a moment, simply staring in awe as the monolithic symbol of CENO vanished, replaced by a smoking, rapidly cooling crater. He had witnessed the end of a corporate superpower and the birth of a new era of terror.
He cut a sharp corner, his wheels barely holding traction, and skated back past the mangled wreckage of the black helicopter. He had to try and get clear and upwind of the colossal plume of debris. The scene was apocalyptic, lit by the ominous red flashes of emergency lights and the orange glow of the distant, imploding tower.
Three miles out, he spotted something sticking out of a pile of smoking rubble—something that had apparently been thrown clear by the roof detonations. He cautiously nudged the piece with his rollerblade's toe stop.
It flipped over. It appeared to be a round disc, clad in three triangular plates that contained glowing red cords. The most striking detail was a single silver orb nestled in the middle of the complex, technological assembly. This was clearly Advanced Genome 'Bio-Booster Gear.'
"Whoa! Chat, look at this! This is a piece of commando armor!" Mothman whispered, his voice vibrating with discovery. He picked it up. "This looks like a righteous piece of equipment rite here, my brogan bros, and the world is becoming a dangerous place. And ya' know, 'finders keepers' and all of that good junk, right?"
He didn't stick around for the police. The distant, world-ending boom of the CENO Tower imploding finally hit, sending a massive shockwave and a wave of gritty air across the city. Mothman turned and skated away, clutching the salvaged tech. He had the footage, the proof of CENO's collapse, and the knowledge that the "monsters" were now loose in the world. He was the first human witness to the coming era, and he was now equipped to participate.