Meanwhile, down on the streets—
"Sir! We can't hold them back! There are too many of these alien bastards!"
A police officer crouched behind a squad car, screaming into his radio.
Captain America, Steve Rogers, hurled his shield and smashed a Chitauri soldier out of the air. He was breathing hard as he shouted back, "Hang on! Stark is figuring out how to shut down the portal!"
"He'd better hurry!" Black Widow's voice crackled through the comms. "I just saw another big one coming through!"
At that moment, the Hulk was hit by a concentrated barrage of energy fire. He roared in fury, skidding backward as the blast temporarily pinned him down.
A Chitauri aerial squad noticed the sudden gap in firepower. They dipped lower, locking onto the cover where Captain America and the police were hiding. The barrels of their weapons glowed with an eerie blue light.
"GET DOWN!!" Steve yelled, snapping his shield up in front of him.
He braced for impact.
But the expected explosion never came.
"…Huh?"
Steve frowned and looked up.
What he saw were a pair of red boots.
Those boots hovered quietly, suspended about ten feet above their heads.
A man.
A man in a blue, skin-tight suit, floating in midair without moving an inch.
Behind him, the Chitauri flying squad that had been about to fire had already been sliced cleanly in half—burning wreckage spiraling downward in flaming arcs.
"Wh-who the hell is that?" a cop muttered, poking his head out from behind the car, eyes wide.
Steve froze as well.
"S-sir," a young officer stammered, "is that… is that Superman? I read his comics when I was a kid…"
"Shut it, George," an older cop snapped. "Superman's Henry Cavill. So who the hell is this?"
"Is he S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Steve pressed a finger to his earpiece. "Fury! Is this your ace in the hole?!"
"…"
Only silence answered him.
-----
S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier.
Nick Fury, the world's most dangerous spymaster, stared at the screen with his single good eye, unblinking.
"Hill," he said sharply, "analyze that target. Who is he? Any prior records? Where did he come from—and why does he look like he just walked off a movie set?!"
"Sir," Agent Maria Hill replied, fingers flying over the keyboard, "there's no match in the database. No registered enhanced individual. He just… appeared. His heat signature—my God. His biological thermal output is off the charts. He's like a walking miniature reactor."
------
Battlefield center.
Stiles hovered in the air, calmly soaking in the looks being thrown his way.
Awe.
Shock.
Confusion.
And… worship.
Ding! Popularity gained +120
Ding! Popularity gained +45
Ding! Popularity gained +109
"Too little…" Stiles frowned slightly.
This wasn't enough.
He needed a bigger stage.
Just then, a Chitauri soldier noticed the strangely dressed man hovering in the sky. It shrieked and thrust its energy spear straight toward Stiles's back!
"LOOK OUT!!" Steve shouted from below.
Stiles didn't even turn around.
Thud.
The spear tip stopped dead against his back.
The Chitauri soldier strained with everything it had—but couldn't push the weapon forward even an inch.
Stiles slowly turned his head.
His handsome face showed mild annoyance, as if he'd been interrupted during a pleasant thought.
"Trash."
In the next instant, his hand shot out like lightning, gripping the alien by the head.
In Steve Rogers' stunned gaze, Stiles squeezed—just a little.
Pop.
Like crushing an overripe tomato.
Green blood and white matter sprayed through the air as the headless corpse dropped from the sky.
Stiles flicked his hand in disgust, shaking off the gore.
"No wonder Homelander prefers laser eyes," he muttered. "Using your hands is seriously gross…"
He then snapped his head upward.
More Chitauri flyers were diving toward him.
His eyes began to burn. Searing energy gathered behind his retinas.
Bzzzz—!!
Two blazing, deep-red beams erupted from his eyes!
The beams swept across the sky. Five Chitauri aircraft—and their pilots—were sliced cleanly in half.
Molten metal and blackened wreckage rained down like fire.
For one full second—
The battlefield went silent.
"My God…" Officer John whispered, his pistol clattering from his hand onto the pavement.
"Nick," Steve said after a long pause, "I'll ask again—are you sure that's not your secret weapon?"
"Is he… really not Superman?" Hawkeye muttered from a nearby rooftop.
"He's strong," Natasha said over the comms. "…And he looks like he's enjoying this."
Iron Man cut hard through the air and stopped directly in front of Stiles, hovering face-to-face. His faceplate slid open.
"Hey! Captain Stars-and-Stripes," Tony Stark drawled. "Cosplay night isn't today. Who are you—Fury's new toy?"
Stiles hovered effortlessly, meeting Stark's gaze with a flawless smile.
"Coming from a guy in a metal suit, you look more like a toy. I'm just here to help."
"Help? Man, your definition of 'help' is… aggressively stylish," Tony snorted.
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment—"
"Tony!" Steve cut in. "Less chatter! We've got trouble!"
"One of the big ones is charging down Fifth Avenue. Hulk and Thor are tied up with two others!"
"I've got it," Tony said, faceplate snapping shut as he prepared to accelerate.
"No need, Mr. Stark."
Stiles smiled—and vanished.
He was too fast.
Tony's sensors barely caught a red-and-blue afterimage.
The next second, Stiles was directly in front of the Leviathan.
And he flew straight into it.
CRUNCH—!
Before anyone could react, Stiles tore through the armored skull of the massive beast at supersonic speed!
A perfectly round hole several meters wide appeared in the Leviathan's head.
The colossal body shuddered… then collapsed.
BOOM—!
It crashed into the street, carving out a massive crater.
Stiles floated on the far side of the corpse, spotless and unscathed.
He slowly turned around and flashed a radiant, magazine-cover-perfect smile at the stunned crowd below.
"Don't be afraid," his voice rang out clearly across several city blocks.
"I'm here."
Then, midair, he looked straight into a news helicopter filming him live. Wearing a smile full of righteousness, he waved.
"Relax," he said warmly.
"I will save everyone here."