Chapter 3 – First Blood
Compared to streaking in the middle of the Battle of New York… Ethan Miles had found himself with an even bigger problem.
He was lost.
After all that chaos, he had somehow — brilliantly, spectacularly — gotten himself turned around.
"This isn't fun anymore," he muttered, on the verge of tears. On either side of the street, Chitauri soldiers clung to skyscraper walls like oversized space cockroaches. Some of them were even rappelling down, energy rifles at the ready. From his earlier encounter, Ethan had learned he could take one on if he got lucky… but two? That was game over.
So he improvised. He grabbed a drifting cardboard box, shoved it over his head, and started shuffling forward like a deranged street mime, muttering under his breath:
> "They can't see me, they can't see me, they can't see me…"
The box had two crude finger-sized holes so he could see just enough to not walk into a lamp post. Unfortunately, there's a type of person who desperately wants to stay under the radar but whose very existence seems to magnetize trouble.
In anime, they call it the "Conan effect." In life, it's just the protagonist curse.
Cue incoming disaster.
"BANG!"
"ROOOOAAAR!"
A massive green figure came barreling through a building to his left. The Hulk. Every step shook the street. Anything in his way — car, mailbox, alien — got smashed, flattened, or launched into the next zip code.
If King Varian Wrynn from World of Warcraft had been blessed with this kind of buff during the Broken Isles campaign, Ethan was pretty sure the demon army wouldn't have lasted through lunchtime. Hulk could've charged through them seven times in a row without needing to stop for coffee.
And just like that, every nearby Chitauri turned their rifles toward the new green target, raining fire in his direction.
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"
Ethan felt a sudden pressure wave behind him. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief — a proper aggro magnet had shown up, so he could sneak away — when it hit him.
"Huh? Why is there such a strong gust of—oh no."
BANG.
A stray blast hit the ground behind him and sent a chunk of shrapnel directly into his backside. It launched him forward like a human lawn dart, and he crashed headfirst into the glass facade of a shopping mall.
The sudden cold breeze on his rear told him the worst.
"Oh my god. I'm streaking again…"
But a quick glance down showed blessed fabric. His pants were intact. Relief washed over him — until he realized what he'd landed in.
A clothing store. Right next to a Nike store.
This was like a starving man falling face-first into a buffet.
Ethan wasted no time. He ducked into the changing room, swapped into a fresh set of clothes, and bolted for the back exit. Going back the way he'd come? Not a chance. Getting blown up once was enough for today.
As soon as he pushed through the rear door, he saw them — the National Guard.
For the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan nearly cried from joy. An actual organized group. People with guns. People with rules. People who weren't aliens.
A soldier barked at him to "duck and cover," his voice sharp but his eyes full of urgent concern. Ethan followed without question, ducking into a building the Guard had fortified.
If he'd looked up at the building's exterior, he would have thought twice. Tall marble columns. Classical architecture. The kind of place you'd see on a postcard. And, more importantly, the exact spot where Captain America would later swoop in to rescue a civilian woman. Which also meant… the Chitauri would be back.
But for now, he felt safe.
He found a corner, sat down, and began to take out the food out of his backpack. That's when he noticed her — a blonde woman in the crowd, face familiar but hard to place. Maybe she was an actress he'd seen before. Maybe it was just déjà vu. He shrugged and went back to unwrapping his protein bar.
The quiet didn't last. A single muffled sob cut through the air. It was so soft it was almost swallowed by the silence, but it spread like a spark in dry grass. Soon, others in the group were crying — quietly, fearfully.
"Will we die here?" a little girl asked, her voice so clear it hurt.
A woman with dust on her cheeks and a bleeding forehead knelt down, kissed the girl's head, and whispered, "Baby, I swear I will never leave you."
Then — chaos.
BANG!
"Enemy attack! Return fire!"
The heavy entrance doors blasted inward. Debris sprayed across the room, knocking several civilians unconscious.
Ethan's blood boiled.
"Seriously? Wherever I go, they follow. Is there a tracking device on me or something?"
A cornered cat bites, they say. And Ethan was no cat. He grabbed a steel bar from the wreckage, straightened it against the floor, and gave it a few test swings. It felt right.
Through the dust, a lone Chitauri soldier stepped in. He wasn't firing. Instead, he was speaking rapidly into his communicator — probably calling in friends. His eyes glowed with cold cruelty.
Ethan tightened his grip.
"Hey, ugly," he said.
The Chitauri turned — and Ethan swung. The steel bar smacked the alien's rifle clean out of his hands.
Good opening. Time for the finisher.
He drove the bar upward in a brutal uppercut to the alien's chin. Combat instinct — or maybe something deeper — kicked in, and Ethan followed with a two-handed downward smash. The impact caved in the Chitauri's helmet. The steel bar bent in half, its job done.
"Holy crap…"
No time to think. He lunged forward, tackled the alien to the floor, and started punching. He didn't notice the faint red energy curling around his fists.
The people around them froze, shock painted on their faces. A few of the soldiers even began cheering him on.
"Come on! Kill that son of a b*tch!"
Bang. Bang. Bang.
He didn't know how many punches it took, only that the resistance beneath him eventually went limp. When he stopped, gasping for breath, the Chitauri's head was a ruin — features smashed into unrecognizable pulp. Black blood smeared across Ethan's knuckles.
The alien's armor was dented and twisted, but Ethan spotted something useful — a short blade on its belt. He yanked it free. The alloy was unfamiliar, but it felt good.
"Hah… guess this counts as loot, huh?"
That's when it happened.
Ding!
> Skill unlocked: Execute.
The voice was mechanical, synthetic — and gone as quickly as it had arrived.
Ethan froze.
"System? You there? Hellooo?"
Nothing. Just the faint echo of the earlier announcement.
"Figures. Just a canned message. No follow-up."
Another explosion rocked the building. A group of Chitauri burst through the blasted doorway, their eyes locking on the mangled corpse of their comrade. Their roars shook the air.
Ethan tightened his grip on his new blade.
Somewhere behind him, a woman screamed.
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