The roar of the gun drowned out everything.
Jessica braced herself midair, legs planted against nothing, shoulders steady as she unleashed a sustained burst from the oversized rotary machine gun normally reserved for military helicopters. The weapon spat fire in a continuous stream, tearing into the restrained alien invaders below with overwhelming force.
For the surviving police officers, SHIELD agents, and the countless civilians who stubbornly refused to stop filming, the scene shattered every expectation they had ever held.
This was not heroic restraint.
This was not cinematic elegance.
This was raw, merciless violence delivered by a girl who looked like she should still be in school.
The aliens had ignored handgun and rifle fire earlier because Earth bullets couldn't penetrate their advanced armor. Their reflexes were fast enough to dodge most lethal shots, especially to unprotected areas like the head.
But that only worked against light weapons.
Heavy machine-gun fire was another matter entirely.
They weren't all Drax the Destroyer.
Armor shattered. Helmets ruptured. Heads burst under sustained firepower. Within seconds, every bounty hunter caught in the vines was dead, their bodies reduced to ruined wreckage on the asphalt.
The Academy's students didn't hesitate.
Many of them, especially the first generation of mutant children rescued years ago, had already stared death in the face. Combat readiness wasn't an accident. It was part of their education.
Fear had been burned out of them long ago.
"How is this possible?" the surviving alien leader screamed as he fled, terror stripping away all arrogance. "Humans aren't supposed to be this strong!"
He abandoned all thought of completing the mission and sprinted toward his ship, every instinct screaming at him to escape this planet while he still could. The three humans who had just appeared were more dangerous than most seasoned Ravagers or elite bounty hunters.
The data was wrong.
Earth was wrong.
He didn't get far.
Logan stepped into his path, claws sliding out with a familiar metallic snarl.
"Logan," a wounded SHIELD agent shouted from behind cover as he struggled to his feet. "If possible, take him alive. We need answers."
The same scene played out across the planet.
In city after city, alien teams that had descended aggressively were intercepted, overwhelmed, and dismantled by Academy instructors and students arriving through portals. Groups that proved more stubborn were boxed in and crushed by rapid reinforcements.
There were no truly elite invaders among those detected.
The smart ones had never announced themselves.
The ones SHIELD tracked were armed, confident, and careless, relying on technological superiority instead of caution. Against Earth's enhanced defenders, advanced weapons alone weren't enough.
Some tried to flee.
They didn't get far either.
Tony Stark and Thor intercepted escape attempts in the upper atmosphere, tearing ships apart or forcing landings before the pilots could jump away.
Within a single day, every openly hostile alien incursion on Earth was over.
Most invaders died resisting. A small number were captured alive and transferred to SHIELD custody for interrogation, with Professor Xavier assisting where conventional methods failed.
Far from the battlefield, beside a remote signal tower, Rocket leaned against a console of his own making, tail flicking irritably as he watched footage stream across stolen feeds.
The video showed Rowan Mercer transforming into a colossal dragon, locked in battle with a world-devouring serpent.
Rocket whistled low.
"Yeah, no," he muttered. "I knew that billion-credit bounty smelled wrong. If it were that easy, the client would've come themselves."
He immediately pivoted, hijacking government networks across continents with contemptuous ease. Firewalls folded. Classified systems opened like unlocked doors.
Earth's defenders were terrifying.
Earth's technology, though, was exactly as weak as expected.
"That's fine," Rocket said, fingers flying. "I'm not here to fight. I'm here to steal."
He wasn't a soldier. He was a survivor.
Information poured in.
The Tesseract.
HYDRA.
The Red Skull.
SHIELD.
The Academy.
Rowan Mercer.
Rocket's grin faded slightly.
"…This planet is way more complicated than it should be."
The data painted a clear picture. After HYDRA's collapse, the Tesseract vanished. Most intelligence agencies believed there was a strong chance it was now in Rowan Mercer's possession.
No one dared challenge him directly.
Rocket scratched his chin.
"So the cube's probably in the sky fortress," he muttered. "Great. Of course it is."
In New York, Gamora stood atop a building, arms crossed, watching Captain Rogers lead a group of students as they restrained captured bounty hunters below. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were sharp.
She had arrived earlier than anyone else.
She had already gathered intelligence, infiltrated quietly, and now watched the chaos confirm what she suspected.
Earth was not defenseless.
And Rowan Mercer was the key.
Her scanner pulsed faintly.
The Space Stone was above her, inside the floating city.
"To get in safely," she murmured, "I need an Earth identity."
Teacher or student.
Either would work.
Mutants, enhanced humans, anomalies. This planet produced them constantly. Pretending to be one more wouldn't be difficult.
Once inside, she could locate the Stone quickly and disappear before anyone realized what had happened.
In a quiet room in a small Missouri town, tension simmered.
"This is worse than we expected," Yondu said grimly. "Even together, we couldn't handle that dragon-shifting human."
He placed a heavy hand on Peter Quill's shoulder.
"So now it's on you, kid."
Peter scowled. "On me? I told you I didn't want to come back here."
Yondu tightened his grip.
"Running never fixes anything," he said quietly. "And whether you like it or not, you're the only one here who actually belongs on this planet."
He leaned in.
"Finish the job, and you get a hundred million credits."
Peter went still.
Earth wasn't just dangerous.
It was about to get crowded.
...
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