Boom!
Boom!
Following their lead, Magneto unleashed a volley of super-electromagnetic blasts.
One after another, they hammered into the Chitauri mothership's energy shield until it finally gave way, flickering out with a violent pulse.
Electromagnetic weapons, after all, are just advanced kinetic strikes. And the Chitauri's energy shields, while powerful, weren't built to handle that kind of focused impact.
"We're in. Let's move!" Magneto shouted, seizing control of the ship's metal framework and waving Ethan forward.
"Got it!" Ethan replied with a grin.
Without hesitation, he launched himself straight into the belly of the massive alien vessel, like a bullet tearing through the sky.
"Professor, show me the bridge," Ethan thought, mentally reaching out to Charles Xavier.
Even though Professor X could have joined the battle himself—his power rivaled even Magneto's—they had no way of knowing if the Chitauri had mind-shielding tech.
Xavier was more valuable providing intel, where he could reduce casualties and guide the team.
The layout of the Chitauri ship flooded into Ethan's mind in vivid clarity. Every alien, every hallway, every system—mapped out.
The location of the bridge and the presence of the pilot stood out, unmistakable.
His aura, his presence—it practically screamed command.
Xavier didn't need much effort to pick out the leader's mind.
That awareness, that precision, was what made him so essential in battle.
Even with his massive psychic reach stretched over all of New York, Xavier still managed to pinpoint the Chitauri pilot.
Ethan charged forward, bulldozing through anything in his path..
He didn't stop, didn't dodge—just forced his way through, letting his powers redirect force and energy around him.
"$@#%*&—!" The aliens on the bridge turned in panic, shouting in their strange, garbled language as Ethan crashed through the bulkhead.
He didn't need to understand.
Dozens of wind-like energy blades sliced outward from him, cutting down the Chitauri where they stood.
CRASH!
Magneto tore open the metal wall behind Ethan and stepped in with calculated calm.
"Time to clean house," Magneto said with a sneer.
He turned and extended his arm.
The metal in the walls surged like water, impaling or crushing every Chitauri soldier trying to storm the room.
By now, the entire mothership was silent. Every alien onboard had been eliminated.
Without his helmet, Magneto was broadcasting his presence like a master of magnetism that he is, and the ship itself bent to his will.
"Charles," he said, half-laughing as he looked at the massive battle screens, "after all these years, your powers have finally impressed me."
Ethan stood at the console, frowning at the unfamiliar Chitauri text.
"We can't control this interface. It's all alien gibberish."
"Doesn't matter," Magneto said, his gaze fixed on the live images of the ongoing battle. "As long as I can see what's happening, it's all I need. I command magnetism itself."
"Rise!" Magneto roared.
The massive mothership shook, then lifted from the ground, soaring under his control.
It surged forward like a battering ram, crashing toward another Chitauri vessel.
BOOM!
The enemy ship activated its shield just in time to absorb the impact, but only barely.
"I've got the shield!" Ethan yelled, launching himself from the mothership again.
He understood Magneto's plan now. His own body might be vulnerable, but once inside the ship, he could use it like armor—a perfect metal fortress.
With Ethan freed from the hull, he moved like a storm.
No shield could stop him.
He found a weak point, ripped a hole through it, and stormed into the bridge of the second ship.
He didn't need to know where the shield generator was. Just destroy everything—and victory would follow.
Boom!
The moment the Chitauri ship's shield collapsed, the vessel Magneto had seized lunged like a predator.
Originally shaped like a massive alien fish, the ship's ornate jaw and metal fangs had always been symbolic—but under Magneto's control, it became a terrifying steel beast.
He turned its sleek form into a living weapon. Spikes of metal erupted from its sides like bone spurs, impaling the hull of another Chitauri mothership.
It wasn't just a ship anymore. It was an extension of Magneto's power.
"Eric, the main ship to your right is charging its primary cannon," came Professor X's voice in Magneto's mind.
The psychic warning was calm but urgent. The Chitauri weren't going to sit back and watch their fleet fall apart.
"Let them try," Magneto growled.
Without hesitation, he pulled the shredded remains of the second Chitauri ship into position like a giant shield.
At that moment, the third mothership fired. Its weapon released a blinding beam of bluish-white energy, exploding outward like a newborn star.
The supercharged blast slammed into the wreckage Magneto had thrown up as cover.
The shockwave sent debris flying across the city. Cars were lifted off the ground. Windows in skyscrapers shattered like cheap glass.
When the blast finally faded, half of the second ship was gone, and the rest glowed from the heat, its core almost vaporized.
From the burning wreckage, Ethan flew out, the only survivor. The rest of the Chitauri onboard had been wiped out by the energy pulse.
"Magneto, get clear of that ship!" Ethan's voice rang in Magneto's mind via Xavier. "Its core's unstable. It's going to blow."
"Perfect," Magneto replied without hesitation.
With a snap of his will, the dying mothership accelerated faster than it had when fully functional.
It streaked through the sky, directly into the ship that had fired the superweapon.
BOOM!
A mushroom cloud rose as both ships exploded in a cataclysmic fireball.
The blast flattened everything in a one-kilometer radius.
The city below was reduced to twisted steel and smoking ruin.
Ethan hovered above the devastation, a grim look in his eyes.
This wasn't a comic book or a movie.
This was real war.
Brutal. Unforgiving.
New York would be rubble by the end of it.
He couldn't help but think—if mutants like him hadn't been here, Earth wouldn't stand a chance.
These alien warships could level entire cities with a single shot.
And the idea of nukes stopping an interstellar army?
That was just fantasy.
As he floated in the chaos, a small drone buzzed into view, scanning the wreckage and maneuvering for a close-up of the blast.
Ethan narrowed his eyes, then mentally reached out. "Emma, what's your status?"
"I've taken over the New York TV station," Emma Frost's voice replied smoothly. "Most of our surveillance drones are down, but I've salvaged enough footage. It'll be perfect for a live broadcast after some edits."
Ethan looked toward the media building.
That had been their base before the attack.
It was still intact—for now.
After this, the government wouldn't be able to hide the truth any longer. The Chitauri were here.
Earth wasn't alone. And Ethan didn't just want people to know. He wanted them to understand.
He wanted them to see how vast and terrifying the universe really was.
He wanted them to understand what New York had faced today might be their city tomorrow.
Humanity needed a wake up call. To grow. To survive. To adapt.
Not out of fear—but because now, they had a chance to fight back.
"Make sure the broadcast hits right," Ethan said, still staring at the wreckage. "No filters, but cut it well. Reality's messy—clean it up just enough so people get the point. We've got half an hour delay—use it."
...
When the New York TV station's emergency live broadcast began, viewership skyrocketed within minutes.
In an age of constant information, news about an alien invasion spread the moment the wormhole opened above Manhattan.
Videos were already flooding social media—but most were shaky phone footage, cut off halfway, and easy to doubt.
That changed the moment the White Queen's broadcast hit the air. Her drones captured the carnage in terrifying clarity.
People could no longer write it off as special effects or rumors.
The Chitauri ships hung in the sky like vultures, and their aircraft rained death down on innocent civilians.
This was no movie—it was reality.
The World Security Council tried to shut it down. They issued emergency orders, scrambled digital firewalls—but Emma Frost was ready.
She had planned for this. By the time officials moved to act, it was too late.
Other networks picked up the feed.
Livestreams exploded across the web. In just moments, the whole country—and the world—was watching.
Billions of eyes locked onto the scenes unfolding in New York. The footage didn't glorify anyone or spin a narrative—it simply showed the truth.
And that was enough.
People were horrified by the portal, sickened by the slaughter, and frozen by fear.
The Chitauri weren't some distant threat.
They were here. And they were winning.
Then came the golden rain.
Across the city, flashes of power began to erupt—mutants awakening under the pressure.
The chaos shifted.
People saw wings. Claws. Eyes glowing.
It wasn't just aliens vs. humans anymore.
There were defenders in the sky and on the ground who looked like them.
Not quite normal. But not alien, either.
The public had heard of mutants before—vague reports, whispers, fearmongering.
But now they were seeing mutants save lives, not threaten them.
Compared to the monstrous Chitauri from outerspace, a human with powers didn't seem so terrifying anymore.
And when Magneto—known to many as one of the most dangerous mutants alive—destroyed three Chitauri motherships back-to-back in a storm of twisting steel and magnetic fury, people cheered.
Some dropped to their knees, calling the golden rain a divine blessing.
For a brief moment, there was hope.
But the battle wasn't live.
That footage was from half an hour ago. The fight in New York had changed again.
And Magneto—Eric—was faltering.
No one could deny Magneto's raw power. But he wasn't young anymore.
Had he encountered Apocalypse in his prime, he might've reached Omega Level, capable of wiping out entire fleets alone.
But there are no second chances in war.
Time takes its toll, even on mutants.
His control of magnetism hadn't dulled, but his stamina had.
After the destruction of three Chitauri motherships, he began to slow.
His breathing grew heavier.
His movements less sharp. Every surge of power cost him more.
There were whispers of mutant longevity projects, but none had begun.
And right now, every ounce of mutant effort was focused on the global defense effort.
The older generation, like Magneto, could only endure and do what they could.
Even with the strength Apocalypse had helped reignite in him, Eric was still just a step behind the man he once was.
The energy he poured into the battle had left his body stretched thin. The weight of age and effort was catching up to him.
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Word count: 1773
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