Hawk stared in stunned silence at the rift that had been torn across the skies over Manhattan—an open wound in the heavens, exposing the endless void beyond.
A cold, cerulean light beamed skyward from the tear, like a lance of energy piercing the firmament, rippling at the edges with static flickers that crackled in the air.
It looked like space itself had been forcibly ripped apart.
Hawk instinctively looked down at his right hand.
But—
The next moment, realization hit him like a jolt.
No.
That tear in the sky wasn't his doing.
It wasn't his punch.
That was the Space Stone.
This was 2012.
The Chitauri Invasion.
The moment the thought clicked, Hawk's gaze snapped back up to the sky.
Sure enough—
A glowing portal had opened above Manhattan. And from it, like a swarm of metallic locusts, came the Chitauri—spilling out in waves from the cosmic gateway.
They descended in formation.
Riding sleek, angular single-person hovercrafts, the Chitauri warriors burst from the sky in formation. Their dark exo-armor gleamed coldly, inlaid with harsh metallic lines. Their engines screeched like steel tortured by fire, a bone-splitting shriek that filled the skies.
BOOM!
The first soldier fired its weapon—an energy blast tore through the glass facade of a Manhattan skyscraper, sending shrapnel flying in every direction.
> "WAAAAHHH!"
"Attack!"
"They're invading!"
"Kill them all!"
Screeching in their alien tongue, the Chitauri swarmed out of the rift, quickly organizing into attack patterns.
Some dove low, zooming down into Manhattan's streets, weapons charged.
Others pulled higher, scanning for targets before arcing toward Brooklyn—
And yes, even Queens was in their warpath.
> "Holy shit!"
"What the hell is that?!"
"Aliens? They're invading Earth?!"
"They're heading this way!"
"Jesus—RUN!"
"AAAHHH!"
Just like the chaos unfolding in Manhattan, the people of Queens saw the attackers coming—and panicked.
As Chitauri hovercrafts ripped through buildings, exploded cars, and incinerated anyone in their path, the streets filled with screams. Civilians ran for their lives, scattering in all directions.
Alien screeches.
Buildings collapsing.
Explosions tearing through vehicles.
Civilians wailing in agony.
Panic consumed the entire city like wildfire.
Standing atop his apartment rooftop, Hawk instinctively turned to head back inside.
But…
Just as he took a step, he stopped.
Something made him pause.
He turned around again—and looked up.
Toward the sky.
Toward the wave of Chitauri warriors now descending upon Queens like a mechanical plague.
One of the Chitauri—riding a hovercraft—locked eyes with him.
In the chaos, Hawk stood still.
Everyone else was running for cover. Screaming. Crying. Fleeing.
But not him.
He simply stood there, unmoving.
The soldier noticed.
Of course it did.
To an invader, nothing was more satisfying than watching the helpless scream and scatter.
But a lone figure standing in defiance?
That was a challenge.
Their eyes met.
Hawk's piercing blue gaze shimmered faintly, as though a star had flickered in their depths.
> "Human," the Chitauri soldier sneered, its snake-like eyes narrowing behind the dark alloy faceplate. It broke formation, diving toward Hawk at full speed.
It opened fire.
The energy weapon at the front of its vehicle crackled, condensing into a ball of volatile power—
And launched.
The energy projectile streaked toward Hawk, growing larger by the second.
His pupils contracted.
BOOM!
The shot slammed into the rooftop where he had stood, exploding into stone and smoke.
Dust filled the air.
The Chitauri grinned—only for its smile to fade as Hawk reappeared on the opposite side of the rooftop, completely unharmed.
No scorch marks. No injuries.
Just silent eyes and a shifting stance.
The soldier fired again.
> Bang! Bang! Bang!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The rooftop turned into a warzone.
Chunks of concrete exploded in every direction.
Smoke and dust clouded everything.
But through it all, Hawk's figure darted and weaved with impossible precision.
He moved like a shadow—fast, sharp, untouchable.
At first, he'd panicked. But now?
Now he was calm.
Focused.
In his element.
It had taken him less than a minute to adapt.
After all—
A Saint is born for battle.
The Chitauri kept firing.
> Click—clack!
Suddenly, the gun stuttered.
Empty.
The soldier looked down at its depleted energy cartridge.
Too late.
> WHHHHRRRAANG!
From the haze, a shard of twisted metal—ripped from a rooftop water tank—came hurtling toward the hovercraft like a thrown discus.
CRACK!
It struck the vehicle with a deafening smash, sending it spinning out of control.
The Chitauri was flung from its seat, crashing hard onto the rooftop.
> THUD!
> "Tch—!"
The alien groaned, stumbling to its feet. It reached behind its back and yanked out a new weapon—one that looked like a rifle, powered by a pulsing green energy core.
> "SKREEEKK!!"
The alien screeched in its guttural language, either issuing a challenge—or calling for backup.
Hawk didn't care which.
He didn't care what it said.
Because when it came to fighting… you take it seriously.
The rooftop was barely intact now, cratered from repeated blasts.
Some sections had collapsed entirely—one blast had even blown a hole clean through the fifth floor and down to the third. You could see people's apartments through the gaps.
Not that anyone noticed.
This was New York.
If there's one thing New Yorkers knew better than anyone—
It's how to survive.
Raised on mass shootings, terror attacks, and alien invasions, they knew what to do:
Duck, run, don't look back.
The dust slowly began to settle.
And from the smoky haze, Hawk stepped forward.
The Chitauri soldier spotted him.
Its green-glowing eyes flared.
It raised its weapon, finger tightening on the trigger.
> "DIE, HUMAN!"