A
mong the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarriers, Fury—finally reconnected to the comms—was intently watching the chaos unfold across New York City.
"These mutants... they really caught me off guard," Fury muttered, his voice edged with a cold snort.
"Their tactics might be unorthodox," Coulson replied from nearby, "but you can't deny the impact they've had. They've turned the tide of this fight."
"Of course I know that," Fury said, rolling his eye but with the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.
Even he couldn't hide the slight satisfaction. "And right now, nothing matters more than taking those goddamn aliens down."
The images from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s surveillance drones confirmed it—the enemy forces were weakening.
"Director, the World Security Council is requesting immediate contact," Maria Hill's voice broke through the comms.
Fury sighed and tapped a button.
The faces of several Security Council members appeared on the screen.
"Director Fury," one of them started, "we've reached a decision. You are to initiate a nuclear strike."
"I recognise that the Council has made a decision.," Fury replied, voice flat. "But given that it's a stupid-ass decision, I've elected to ignore it."
"Your helicarrier is closest to the epicenter. It makes tactical sense," another member chimed in.
Fury slammed his hand on the table. "There are millions of people in New York right now. You want me to blow them all to hell?"
"If we don't act now, the entire world could fall," said Councilman Gideon Malik calmly.
"You're not even looking at the current battle reports, are you?" Fury snapped. "You're watching that outdated broadcast stream, right? Let me clue you in—the Chitauri motherships are nearly destroyed. We're winning. Do I need to spell it out? We're going to win."
Malik didn't even blink. "Then tell me, Director Fury—who's actually winning?"
Fury narrowed his eye. "What's your point?"
"Let me remind you, the survivors in New York? They're not average citizens anymore. They're mutated, enhanced individuals that could very well be the real threat that we will be facing."
Fury's face hardened, his tone ice-cold. "So that's it. You want to nuke the city—not to stop the Chitauri, but to wipe out the those individuals."
"They've deceived you, Fury," Malik continued. "They act harmless, but they've been building dangerous weapons, creating monsters. If we don't eliminate this threat now, we never will."
The Council's think tanks had already decided: the alien invasion was nearly over.
Destroy the teleportation device with a nuclear strike, and it ends.
But with Magneto and Professor X likely drained, now was the moment to strike.
Slip warheads into ordinary missiles, pilot them under the radar, and eliminate the mutants in one swift move.
Fury stood silent for a second, then slammed the table again. "It's you who've betrayed us."
His people—his agents and allies—were out there dying to protect the city.
Civilians, terrified but resilient, had stayed to fight or help however they could.
And these so-called leaders?
They were planning to kill them all from the start. Treating them no better than the enemy.
Now Fury finally understood why military backup had been delayed.
It wasn't that reinforcements weren't available—it was that they were never coming.
The whole betrayal had been calculated from the start.
"Director Fury, this is for the good of all mankind," Gideon said, spreading his hands like it was some kind of noble gesture.
Fury glared at the screen. "Is there really any point in pretending to be noble now?"
As the head of S.H.I.E.L.D., he could see right through the Security Council's move.
This wasn't about safety.
It was fear—plain and simple.
The thought of individuals, some may even well be mutants awakening on a massive scale threatened to overturn everything the Council had built.
Their power, their influence, the world order—all at risk.
And when power is at risk, the people who hold it will do anything to hold on.
"So, Director Fury," Gideon said, his voice tightening with irritation, "are you refusing to follow the Council's orders?"
"Fine then," Gideon snapped. "Nick Fury, your command authority is officially revoked."
The second the words left his mouth, alarms blared across the Helicarrier.
"Sir! Unauthorized fighters carrying nuclear payloads have launched," Hill reported, her voice sharp.
Fury stood frozen for half a second, then turned to the screen.
He cut off Gideon mid-sentence, slammed the comms panel shut, and stormed toward the weapons deck.
Grabbing a RPG, he didn't say a word.
He was going to remind everyone who really ran this damn ship.
BOOM!
A fighter jet that had barely lifted off was blasted from the sky.
But another had already taken flight.
Coulson rushed after him. "Director! What now?"
Fury didn't look back. "Get in touch with Ethan. Tell him everything."
"But... doesn't that mean we're turning on the Council?" Coulson asked, hesitating.
Fury stopped and looked over his shoulder.
His voice was cold. "No. They betrayed humanity first."
He turned and marched back to the bridge.
His fight wasn't over.
Across the city, the last wave of Chitauri had finally been pushed back.
The wormhole was closing, but a new message came through from Coulson.
Ethan, who had been expecting something like this, just let out a long breath.
It was only a matter of time.
He wasn't naive.
Mutants stepping into the light meant they would have to deal with shadows.
He had made his preparations.
"Emma," Ethan said through their mental link, "speed up the livestream. Cut the delay."
The real reason Ethan pushed for a global broadcast wasn't just to show the fight—it was to give mutants a place in the story of Earth's survival.
A place of righteousness.
"Professor, you're up next," Ethan said.
"No problem," came the voice of Professor X, weary but steady. "I've already located the nuke. I saved just enough strength to send an image and a message to everyone watching. That's all I need."
The Battle of New York had been raging for hours.
Billions of people across the globe were watching.
This wasn't just a war; it was the first true encounter between humanity and an alien force.
And if a nuclear bomb wiped out New York on live television, the feed would cut—and the ones in power could spin it however they wanted.
But if the bomb didn't go off, and instead the world saw mutants save the day while leaders tried to silence them... well, that was a different story.
Because when those in charge stand for justice, their power is unstoppable.
But when they lose the people's trust, that same power becomes brittle—easily shattered.
And the louder the truth, the faster the fall.
"Our saviors survived a brutal fight against the alien invaders—they shouldn't have to fall under the knives of their own people..." Professor X's tired voice echoed through the minds of billions.
Alongside his words, an image burned itself into their thoughts: a missile mid-flight, tipped with a nuclear payload.
Even with his powers drained from battle, Charles didn't need to press deep into anyone's mind.
He didn't force or influence—he only showed the truth.
And that was enough.
Because the truth alone shattered something inside the world's heart.
Across the globe, panic turned into outrage.
Phones rang off the hook. Newsfeeds were flooded with disbelief and horror.
The live broadcast, synced by Emma's telepathic boost, showed the nuke closing in.
In the middle of a bustling New York avenue, time itself seemed to freeze. Pedestrians, cab drivers, shopkeepers—all of them turned their eyes to the giant screen looming overhead.
No one moved.
They watched in silence, breath held, as if sheer will could stop the bomb.
In a classroom miles away, a schoolteacher stood with her students huddled around her.
Her eyes were full of confusion.
How could she explain this to children? How could anyone?
Inside a law office, two lawyers rifled through the Supreme Constitution in desperation.
They were already drafting a case to sue their own government. Even if it was symbolic.
Even if it did nothing.
They had to try.
Then, just when hope seemed lost, a crimson blur shot through the sky—Red Hulk.
With a thunderous leap, he rocketed off a high-rise, caught the missile midair, and with every ounce of fury-driven strength hurled it skyward.
It vanished into the clouds, and moments later, the heavens split with a blinding light.
Storm's cloud cover shattered from the shockwave, revealing the detonation high above Earth's surface.
It was like a new sun had been born.
The blast lit the entire city.
The radiation didn't cause devastation—Red Hulk had launched it far enough.
The clouds and atmosphere dulled the force and light.
The damage was contained.
The world had been saved.
A moment later, static cut across every screen as the electromagnetic pulse wiped out the live feed.
But it didn't matter anymore.
Everyone had seen what they needed to see.
Across the world, people erupted in celebration.
On Washington Avenue, a sailor pulled a nurse into his arms and kissed her.
A camera captured the moment—the Kiss of Victory.
That photo would be remembered for generations.
But while the world cheered, New York bled.
In the heart of the broken city, a man knelt in the rubble.
His clothes were torn, his body bruised and caked in blood. Before him lay the lifeless bodies of his wife and two children.
He had survived countless Chitauri warriors, he awakened an ability that's responsible for healing him, keeping him alive long past the breaking point.
He should've died a dozen times.
But just as he thought they were safe, he was a former Marine, did everything he could to serve and protect his country, but the very government that he served almost erase them from existence.
He had done everything right.
Fought bravely.
Protected his family.
And in the end, it didn't even matter.
The grief twisted into madness.
He clutched his head, nails digging into his scalp.
Then, with a broken laugh, he whispered to no one, "You're all guilty. Every last one of you. And you're going to pay."
His laughter echoed through the ruined street, sharp as shattered glass.
And that man wasn't alone. All across New York, people who survived the battle were reeling from their losses.
The city was left in ruins, the death toll climbing into the millions.
Nearly every survivor had lost someone—a friend, a parent, a child. And just as they began to grieve, they learned the truth: their own government had tried to kill them.
The anger was instant and overwhelming.
High atop the battered remains of Stark Tower, Ethan stood with the others, silently watching the chaos unfold below.
"This is the moment you spoke of," said Ross, his voice low and steady.
He had reverted back from Red Hulk, his body still bearing the signs of the transformation.
"The moment they realized their leaders abandoned them. And so, they abandoned the government."
Ethan nodded slightly, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "Which is why it's your time now, General. They need someone to stand up. Someone to give them hope."
Ross turned to look at him, uncertain. "And what exactly are we supposed to do?"
His eyes flickered with doubt.
Ross had plenty of ideas, but he understood one truth: if a leader can't represent the people who support him, he's nothing but a figurehead.
Ethan stepped forward, his voice clear. "Mutants have been pushed into the shadows for too long. We've hidden, we've endured, but now the world has seen us. We stood in the light. We bled for this planet. What we want now... is freedom."
Ross shook his head immediately.
"You want New York to break away from the United States? That's impossible. Washington would never allow it. And if it happens here, other countries will panic. They'll see every mutant as a potential threat. We'll be worse off than before."
"I'm not talking about full secession," Ethan replied, waving off the idea with a calm smile. "I'm talking about autonomy. Let New York stay on the map as part of the U.S., but let its people govern themselves. Let them elect their own leaders. Let the city choose its own future."
Ross fell silent, thinking.
The idea wasn't without risk, but the timing... the timing was perfect.
The failed nuclear strike would haunt the U.S. for years.
They couldn't afford more unrest, and the whole world was watching.
"It might actually work," Ross finally admitted. "The U.S. government will be desperate to contain the damage. They won't want to use force. And with enough pressure, they might just settle for a political compromise."
Ethan nodded, satisfied. "Then it's time to act. We can't waste this momentum."
Without another word, Ethan leapt from the platform, soaring toward the ruins where Professor X was resting.
He knew the old man was exhausted, but there was still one more critical move to make.
If he could convince that 'man' to join them, everything would change.
Ethan knew his personality well.
The man was ruthless, a radical who once tried to weaponize a power source that could have wiped out the Earth—all in the name of protecting humanity.
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Word count: 2217
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