Present – Back at the Summit
Toshinori blinked, the weight of her words still echoing in his mind. Raksha's voice, firm yet forgiving, lingered in the silence that followed. Her acceptance hadn't lessened his guilt—but it had reminded him why he still stood here.
His hand rested on the summit table—faintly trembling. Not from fear. But grief. Loss. The kind that years of battle had never prepared him for. The kind that crept into quiet moments and left scars no villain ever could.
He looked up slowly at the leaders gathered around him. Faces from every corner of the world, eyes watching not just the man he was, but the legacy he carried.
'There's no redemption for what I didn't see,' he thought. 'No undoing it. But maybe… there's still a way to move forward. To make sure this never happens again.' he thought.
He inhaled, then sat taller. The burden didn't lessen, but he bore it more steadily now. His shoulders, still hunched by guilt, began to square under a growing resolve. His glassy eyes met the room, and something within them sparked again—faint but determined.
Because the world didn't need a symbol anymore.
It needed someone willing to face the cracks in that symbol—and fix them.
The silence was heavy in the summit room. Toshinori sat straighter now, his guilt slowly transforming into a quiet resolve. He looked around the table—leaders, heroes, allies. There was a sense of calm, of unity forming through the storm of truth.
But that calm shattered in an instant.
A loud, sharp BOOM echoed from outside the summit building. The floor trembled. Lights flickered. Gasps broke the silence. Then came the alarms—screeching, blaring, urgent.
Red lights flashed across the high ceilings. Monitors on the wall distorted with static before going black. The reinforced windows around the room darkened automatically, going into lockdown mode.
"Everyone stay calm!" Captain Valor stood, already activating his comms, but nothing responded. "They've jammed us!"
Before anyone could ask who they were, the main doors of the summit hall blew inward.
A blinding burst of smoke flooded the room. Shouts rang out. Visibility dropped to almost nothing. Even the heroes with enhanced senses were caught off guard.
And then—it began.
From above, villains dropped through the broken skylights. From the shadows, they emerged through warp gates and tunnels. They came fast—dressed in specialized suits, faces hidden behind sleek masks, quirks already activated.
Coordinated strikes hit the pro heroes before they could regroup. One villain with a sound-canceling quirk silenced Éclair mid-incantation, cutting off her protective barrier. Another used a gravity field to slam a dozen top-tier fighters to the ground and keep them pinned.
Raksha raised her armored sari to block an incoming plasma blast, but the sheer force knocked her back across the floor. She grunted, bracing herself. "What the hell is happening?!" she shouted, blocking another strike.
Toshinori stood. His heart raced as his eyes darted around the room. "Evacuate the non-combatants!" he ordered, trying to move. But before anyone could act—
The doors sealed.
A thick metal wall slammed down over every entrance.
Blast-resistant shields covered the windows, locking in the summit leaders. A powerful energy field shimmered across the room's exits.
Captain Valor reached for his comm. "We're locked in! They've sealed us in!"
At that moment, the large screen on the far wall buzzed and flickered. Static warped into an image—live footage.
New York City.
The skyline burned.
Massive black plumes of smoke rose into the clouds. Sirens wailed. Explosions rocked Times Square. Civilians screamed and scattered as buildings crumbled. Giant sinkholes opened in the streets, swallowing cars. Bridges collapsed. Planes circled with no control. Hospitals lost power.
Villains were everywhere—clearly marked, clearly prepared. Whole squads moved through the city like a military operation. They didn't attack randomly—they hit hospitals, power plants, comm towers, and major roads all at once.
Éclair stared at the screen, her lips barely moving. "No… they didn't come for us." Her voice cracked as she shook her head. "They never cared about the summit. We were just in the way. They wanted to just keep us locked up in one place."
Raksha stumbled forward, eyes locked on the burning image of the American Hero Association. "Wait… wait, you're telling me—this whole attack wasn't even about us?"
She looked around, breath shallow. "They used the summit… not to fight us… but to trap us. I should have known something was wrong."
A brutal explosion echoed from outside. The walls shook. Emergency lights flickered overhead. Every exit sealed. No communications. No backup.
Captain Valor looked pale, his voice unsteady as the truth sank in. "We brought every top hero here… every defense personnel, every safeguard. We thought the sudden disappearance of villains was peaceful, and it was the new normal. We got too comfortable."
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide. "We didn't even leave anyone behind to keep watch… to protect the streets, the people. We let our guard down—and handed them the world on a silver platter."
The monitor flickered. Static buzzed. Then—
The screen switched.
New York.
Fifth Avenue was in flames. A line of overturned cars blocked the road as smoke curled into the sky. Civilians ran in every direction—screaming, stumbling, tripping over one another as masked villains unleashed blasts into the crowd. One threw a shockwave that shattered every window on the street.
Cut to Times Square. Giant digital billboards glitched, flashing the villain symbol. Rioters looted stores while others set fires in alleyways. Police forces were overwhelmed—pinned behind wrecked vehicles, calling for backup that would never come.
Another feed—Brooklyn Bridge. A villain with a gravity quirk collapsed half the structure, sending dozens of cars plunging into the water below. Helicopter footage showed people clinging to railings, begging for rescue.
Harlem. A villain with an acid mist quirk filled entire streets with a sickly green fog. Civilians collapsed where they stood, unable to breathe. First responders lay unconscious in the open.
Wall Street. The financial district burned as drones buzzed overhead, broadcasting the villain's message on every screen:
"Hahaha, you thought you were our targets, wake up to reality idiots, you guys were never our target. The world was. You left it alone. And we reminded them what fear feels like."
The camera panned—
No pro heroes. No capes. Just chaos.
Every corner of New York was under attack.
And there was no one left to stop it.
The room was silent.
Not the kind of silence that came from strategy or thought—but from sheer, unfiltered shock.
The room was still.
The footage played on loop—fires devouring the Bronx, streets of Harlem choked with acid mist, the skyline of New York in ruins. No commentary needed. Just raw, unfiltered collapse.
Raksha didn't speak. Her eyes stayed locked on the screen, lips parted, her breath shallow. She didn't scream or curse—she just stood there, one hand braced on the table, like she might fall if she let go. A warrior who'd seen death a hundred times… and still wasn't ready for this.
Éclair said nothing at all. She sank slowly into her chair, a hand pressed to her temple, jaw tight. The tension in her frame wasn't fear—it was calculation. Pieces of a puzzle rearranging in her mind. Trying to see how they missed this. Trying to see if there was *still* something they could do.
Captain Valor was the one who broke the silence.
"…They didn't come to kill us."
His voice was low. Cold. Grounded.
"They came to cage us."
He stepped forward, fists clenched, watching the monitors switch from borough to borough—each one worse than the last.
"We brought the strongest heroes in the world into one room. Every national defense head. Every strategist. Every last line of fallback."
His voice didn't tremble. But it cut deep.
"They didn't beat us. We handed them the win on a silver platter."
Toshinori's hand curled tighter on the edge of the table. "I feel so miserable," he said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. "Nothing is going as it should, and we rendered ourselves completely inefficient and useless."
The room remained silent—no more panicked shouts, no more frantic voices. Just grim understanding.
Éclair looked up, sharp again. "The summit's compromised. Comms are down, exits sealed, tech grid fried. We're locked out of everything that matters."
"We're not getting backup," Raksha added quietly. "There is no backup. We are the backup. And they took us off the board first. Pretty smart if I have to say."
A new broadcast flickered onto the central feed—live, shaky drone footage aimed at the Empire State Building. At the top stood a group clad in armor and black cloaks, a crimson symbol glowing behind them in the night.
A masked figure raised a megaphone.
"You celebrated your peace. You called it progress. But progress made you blind. So we decided to open your eyes."
The sound echoed across the room. No screams. Just the distant hum of fire and breaking glass.
Toshinori finally stepped forward, his voice calm, but laced with steel.
"We can't undo what happened. But we can still choose what happens next."
Captain Valor nodded. "We breach the lower levels. If the sub-grid's intact, we get comms back online. Alert local squads. Evac protocols. Anything we can salvage."
Éclair was already moving. "Two routes. North stairs are blocked. Maintenance tunnel's the best shot."
Toshinori gave one last glance at the screens—New York burning, and no one left to stop it.
"We need to think tactically," Captain Valor said, already turning toward the side terminals. "There's a back systems panel in sub-basement C. If they missed it, we might be able to reroute partial comms through one of the satellite links."
"And if they didn't?" Éclair asked.
"Then we punch our way out."
Toshinori looked at each of them in turn—heroes still standing, faces grim, no illusions left.
"We got comfortable. That ends now."
He turned toward the sealed door.
"The world is burning. We don't get to sit in here and regret it."
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