Nick Fury's Point of View
The Manhattan sky is painted red and orange—not from fire, not yet, but from the sunrise reflecting off the skyscrapers.But no one is looking at the sunrise. The city moves like a kicked anthill. From the helicarrier, I see the image: clogged streets, people running with suitcases, crying children, mothers screaming names. The electronic billboards of Times Square, usually filled with perfume and fast-food ads, now repeat the same message in bold capital letters:
"URGENT EVACUATION – FOLLOW THE MARKED ROUTES."
The radio and television echo the warning. Every channel, every frequency. Even cell phones are buzzing with alerts. No one knows where it's coming from, but everyone obeys.
I adjust my eyepatch. Feels tighter than ever.
Next to me, Hill stands with her arms crossed, eyes locked on the screens. She doesn't need to say a word: the entire city is in panic, and we haven't even fired a single bullet yet.
"Talk," I order.
A young agent, tense-faced with a tablet in his hands, steps forward. His voice shakes a little, but he speaks clearly.
"Director Fury… It started early this morning. The signals hit every system at the same time. We couldn't cut them, and we couldn't trace where they're coming from. Every attempt to backtrack ends in a dead end. It's like—"
"Like someone planned it so we'd never find them," I finish for her.
She nods nervously.
I take a deep breath, pull out the secure comm from my jacket, and dial a secure line.
"Get me Stark."
The call rings a couple of times before his voice comes through: relaxed, mocking, like the world isn't about to burn.
"Fury! You realize you're calling before I've had my coffee, right? Or do you just miss my voice?"
"Stark, I'll bet ten cents this isn't your doing."
"'This'? You'll have to define 'this.' If we're talking about the entire city believing they're about to die… nope, not me. Though I've gotta say, I admire the craftsmanship. Classy panic."
I grit my teeth."Tony…"
"Relax, Patchy. Not me. My team and I are busy reinforcing the suit for when the space monsters decide to drop in for a visit. What you've got sounds like… oh, I don't know, a very bored hacker with way too much talent?"
I hang up before he finishes.
"Always a pleasure talking to you, Stark," I mutter to myself.
Before I can issue another order, a young agent rushes in, not even asking permission to enter.
"Director. There's more." Her breathing is quick, but her voice is steady. "We've got reports of an unknown entity moving through the city. Superhuman speed. It's been evacuating entire groups of people stuck in tunnels and buildings. Prioritizing children, the elderly, pregnant women, the sick… anyone in critical danger."
Hill narrows her eyes.
"Metahuman?"
"We don't know." The agent hands her a digital file. "Cameras, satellites, heat sensors… nothing picks them up. They've got some kind of inhibitor. We don't even know what they look like. We're only tracking results: groups of civilians appearing in safe zones in seconds."
I look at the screens in front of me. Evacuation routes too organized to be the work of chaos. This isn't a random act. This looks like military-level planning.
And then the alarms go off. A new call. Priority channel.
"Director Fury." The voice on the other end is sharp, authoritative: Alexander Pierce. Then another voice. And another. Everyone speaking at once.
"Explain what the HELL is going on in New York."
"We've got reports of mass evacuations and citywide panic."
"Is this an attack? Who's behind it?"
"We need answers NOW, Fury."
I take a slow breath, feeling the weight of the entire helicarrier pressing down on my shoulders.
"I'll make it simple." My voice cuts through the chaos. "I don't have all the answers. But this isn't just a cyberattack. Someone's preparing us for something bigger."
"That's not good enough. We want a full report in under an hour." Pierce's voice rumbles like thunder.
"An hour won't give me miracles," I reply evenly, "but I'll do what I can with what I've got."
There's a chorus of sighs, overlapping orders, and then the call ends abruptly. Only the wail of alarms remains.
I lean against the holographic table. Manhattan still glows red. Streets blocked, crowds moving like rivers. And somewhere in the shadows, a mysterious entity moving like it owns the board.
Paranoia. Strategy. Nothing about this is random.
I glance at Hill.
"Think they're on our side?"
"I hope so." My stare hardens. "Last thing we need is another enemy in the middle of this mess."
A deep rumble shakes the helicarrier. A stronger signal. Closer.A massive portal begins to tear open above Stark Tower.
The war has just begun.
==============================================================
The world is a blur of colors.
I don't see faces, only shapes; I don't hear voices, only fragments of screams lost behind me as I run. Every step is a heartbeat. Every street I cross, another story left behind.
"Keep going straight! The left side is clear!" I shout, leaving a group of civilians at the entrance of a subway station where police officers already have cordons in place. They don't even hear me properly; by the time they process my voice, I'm gone.
A six-year-old girl is crying in the middle of a jammed street, her parents trapped between crashed cars. One blink. Now she's in my arms. Another blink. She's already in an ambulance, paramedics unsure where she came from.
I take a deep breath.
No time to feel anything. I just keep moving.
Collapsed buildings, streets blocked with debris. I move like a flash, carrying the elderly in my arms, helping a man on crutches, pulling a pregnant woman out of an overturned taxi. Each rescue is a millimetric calculation: how many seconds until the sound starts.
That damn sound.
Beep.
No. Not yet.
Beep. Beep.
Each beep hits my chest like a punch. The transformation is almost done. My body begins to feel heavier. My reflexes slow.
I need to find an empty spot before anyone sees me.
I sprint through an abandoned subway tunnel. I hear echoes of footsteps that don't exist—just mine.
The city fades behind me, replaced by suffocating silence. I leap over a fence, dash through a dark corridor, and finally emerge into an empty underground parking lot.
I lean against a column, gasping. The beeping becomes constant.
A flash of red… time's up.
And then, the world shakes.
A bolt of energy tears across the sky as if fired straight from hell. I see it from the parking lot entrance: a column of light illuminating the entire city, brighter than the sun.
Around it, clouds swirl violently, and within seconds, a massive portal begins to open above the downtown towers.
The metallic roar coming from the portal is unmistakable. It's not wind. It's not a storm. It's engines. Aliens. Chitauri.
My heart beats harder than ever.
Now I'm alone, human, vulnerable.
And up there, the sky breaks.
Thousands of silhouettes begin to descend, war cries erupting from their mouths.
I take a deep breath, clench my fists. I can't stay hidden here. But if I go out like this, I won't last a second.
The roar of the first explosions echoes through the city.
New York screams.
================================================================
My phone timer
9:57.
Ten minutes. Ten damn minutes in which I'm just… me. No strength, no superhuman reflexes, no powers. Just a helmet hiding my face and a tool that barely counts as a weapon.
Ten minutes to survive.
The sky is an open hell: a green-blue portal spews creatures and metallic ships that swarm Manhattan like hungry wasps. Buildings tremble under the explosions. Sirens wail like a distant echo among the roars of the Chitauri.
I take a deep breath. I'm sweating under the helmet. My hands shake.
But I keep moving.
I can't stay still.
Through the smoke, I see figures that look straight out of a comic book. Thor spins his hammer, unleashing lightning that tears ships apart mid-flight. Closer, Captain America organizes the cops, deflecting shots with his shield and barking orders with impossible calm. In the sky, Iron Man circles, firing repulsor beams that obliterate entire squads. Black Widow fights two Chitauri hand-to-hand, using her lethal agility to disarm them before they react.
But they're not the only ones.
On top of a building, a red-and-blue silhouette moves as if gravity doesn't exist.
Spider-Man.
He swings between skyscrapers, flinging webs that trap enemies and leave them dangling like macabre ornaments.
In a dark corner far away, a man in a red suit with two batons in hand.
Daredevil.
No flashy armor, no obvious superpowers, yet he moves like a predator, taking down invaders who dare enter his territory.
And through the smoke, a violet-clad woman soars above the street.
A white-and-purple suit shining amidst the chaos.
Jewel.
Jessica Jones.
She lifts a burning car and hurls it at a ship flying too close. The explosion lights up the entire block.
"Wow… it's a good day to be a fanboy." I mutter under the helmet, ducking behind an overturned taxi.
But there's no time to admire heroes.
I look through my visor: two cops trapped under enemy fire. I raise my multifunction tool, aim, fire.
Bam!
A Chitauri drops, stunned.
Another shot.
The second one explodes in sparks.
"Come on, guys, run." I mutter, waiting for the device to cool.
I start moving again, keeping low. I don't want to draw attention. But of course… luck doesn't think the same.
A shadow passes over me. I look up. One of those floating ships stops. The pilot—a Chitauri with dark armor and glowing eyes—locks onto me.
"Perfect. Out of all these superheroes, you pick me." I grit my teeth.
The creature roars. The ship fires. The car I was hiding behind explodes, throwing me into the air. I roll across the asphalt, dizzy. I stagger to my feet, grab my tool, and run.
It leaps from the ship, screaming, consumed by its bloodlust.
I dash through wrecked cars, dodging a spray of shots that explode inches from me. I feel the heat on my back.
I vault over a fallen police barrier, slide under a truck. The alien doesn't even flinch: one jump, and it's already through.
"Okay… cardio. Need more cardio." I think, panting as I dodge another explosion.
I hide behind a container and fire blindly. One shot hits its helmet, but it only enrages it more. The roar it lets out makes me cringe.
"Great! Perfect! That was a terrible idea!" I scream, running again.
The alien leaps and lands in front of me. Before I can react, it strikes. I feel my ribs crack.
Another hit throws me against a wall. The tool slips from my hands, rolling away.
"No… no, no, no!" I try to grab it, but the Chitauri seizes my neck and slams me into the pavement.
It releases me only to raise its weapon, ready to fire.
And then I see it.
The watch on my wrist.
My phone buzzes—the alarm.
A green light flashes.
0:00.
"Oh… you're gonna regret this."
The alien freezes for a second, confused. I smile under the helmet.
A green flash suddenly consumes me.
The energy burns through my nerves, exploding into pure strength.
My body grows. Expands. Two additional arms burst from my sides, roaring with power.
FOUR ARMS.
The Chitauri recoils, surprised.
I clench all four fists, cracking my knuckles.
"Time to play." I say with a fierce grin.
The alien tries to fire, but I give it no chance.
One of my arms grabs its neck, another its leg. And with all the force this form allows…
BAM!
I throw it with a blow so brutal it crosses the entire street, smashing into the facade of a nearby building. The impact shatters windows. The creature remains embedded in the wall, motionless.
I take a deep breath, flexing all four arms. The ground groans under my weight.
The tides have turned.
================================================================
(The image is seen through a phone camera: the screen shakes as three teens—two boys and a girl—make their way down a destroyed street. Explosions thunder in the distance.)
"Are you recording?" one of the boys asks, his voice trembling but excited.
"Of course! This is history," replies the one holding the phone.
"This is insane! We should've evacuated!" the girl says, looking around.
The camera pans to a street littered with overturned cars and debris. Smoke fills the air.
"Look, look… see that?" The boy with the camera zooms in on a ship flying past.
"Wow… This is better than a movie."
A metallic roar cuts through the air. The three spin around. A squad of aliens appears at the end of the street, moving fast.
"Oh, crap! They saw us!" the girl screams.
The boy with the camera runs, but doesn't stop filming. The footage shakes as the three hide behind a destroyed car.
The aliens advance, raising their weapons.
One of the boys whispers a prayer.
The camera focuses on the Chitauri aiming…
And then—
Something falls from the sky.
A thunderous crash shakes the street. The camera wobbles, almost slipping from the boy's hands.
When it refocuses, a giant red figure is visible, with four arms and muscles carved like stone.
The Being lands on the squad, crushing two Chitauri instantly. With a roar, it charges the rest, hurling them through the air like rag dolls. Its fists move fast and devastatingly, each blow toppling an enemy.
Within seconds, the street falls silent.
The boy points the camera at the creature, trembling.
"W-what… what are you?" he asks, his voice cracking. Four Arms turns its massive head toward them, its eyes shining with determination.
"You should've listened to the evacuation signs," it replies, with a half-smile.
The teens glance nervously at each other as it crouches to their level.
"Listen: follow this street to the intersection, turn right. You'll find barricades and police. Don't stop."
"B-but… who are you?" the girl asks, still filming.
Four Arms stays silent for a moment. Its gaze holds theirs. It turns, rising to its full height, and with a deep, firm voice says:
"I am Legion."
Before they can react, it flexes all four arms and makes a colossal leap. The camera tilts up to the sky as the red figure disappears between the buildings, leaving the teens stunned.
"…This is… this is insane," one of them whispers.
"No… it's a hero," the girl replies, still recording.
================================================================
Each punch is a thunder that rattles through my bones. The creatures keep coming.
Chitauri everywhere, screaming in a guttural language while firing energy in every direction. My fists move on instinct; one upper smash destroys a flying bike, the lower one hurls an alien into a taxi windshield.
"One, two, three… keep coming, you bastards," I mutter, gasping.
I look around: explosions, sirens, people running.
I reach into a pocket on my belt and pull out a small silver device with green lights.
"Thank god I have this to keep the cameras from recording me…" I say, relieved.
But when I look at it, I notice something. The casing is cracked. Dark liquid drips from the side. The screen flickers red.
I stop.
"…No. No, no, no…" I try to adjust it, but the device buzzes and sparks. Then a word escapes my lips, heavy with frustration:
"Shit."
I look up and see dozens of cameras on just one building.
"Great. Now everyone's going to see this." I growl—just as another wave of Chitauri appears, launching me into the fray.
================================================================
Nick Fury's Point of View
The command room is dark, lit only by the screens broadcasting chaos in real time: drones, news footage, home videos. Manhattan is a battlefield.
And in the middle of it all, there's something new.
I lean against the control table, watching my agents move nervously, uploading images and data.
"Report," I say, my voice cutting through the murmurs.
Agent Hill is the first to speak:
"Sir, we've verified with all external contacts. Xavier confirms none of his mutants have any record of these abilities. None of our files match either. This subject… does not exist."
"Show me what you've got." I can't help massaging my one eye.
The screens shift. The viral video fills the central wall.
A cellphone recording: the red four-armed monster, leaping from a building and pulverizing a group of Chitauri in a single blow.
"Pause on the suit. Zoom in on the left shoulder," I order. ""The green symbol is clear, embedded like an alien emblem."
"Now the others," another agent commands.
Another agent projects the next clip: the six-story building fire.
A living figure of fire pulling civilians from the flames. Blurry… until a frame freezes. The same green symbol glows on its chest.
A third file opens: a security camera. Just a blue streak crossing the frame. But in that fraction of a second, there it is again: the symbol on its chest.
"Conclusions," I demand.
An analyst speaks up:
"They could be extraterrestrial bio-weapons, sir. Multiple entities operating with the same technology."
"I don't buy it," another agent responds. "No known species can take so many physical forms. Maybe it's a training group with identical equipment."
A third raises a hand.
"Or it's the same individual."
Suppressed laughter echoes.
"Are you insane?" the analyst responds. "One is over three meters tall with four arms, another is literally rock and fire, and the last seems like a demonic speedster. There's no scientific basis to think they're the same."
The agent pushing the theory isn't intimidated. He presses a button, and another video appears: the footage of the three teenagers filming the red monster saving them. The exact moment they ask who it is.
The creature's deep voice echoes through the room:
"…I am Legion."
Silence.
The agent continues:
"Sir… in scripture and military history, Legion means 'many in one.' An individual calling themselves that… is no coincidence. No 'we' by chance. As if they carry many within them."
Others fall silent. Some begin to look at the images with new eyes.
I walk toward the main screen, staring at the green symbol. Three impossible creatures, one emblem, one name.
"When this disaster is over, I want every camera reviewed, every piece of footage analyzed, every civilian interviewed." My voice is colder than usual. "Find the owner of that symbol.
This 'Legion' is operating in my country. If it's a hero, it's uncontrolled. And if it's not…" I pause, locking eyes with the agent who spoke. "…it's a ticking time bomb."
I leave the room as the images loop again: the red monster taking down Chitauri.
Each repetition makes the silence in the room weigh heavier.
================================================================
The metallic roar slices through the air, a pitch so sharp it makes the windows of the ruined buildings vibrate. I look up, through the smoke and fire, and there it is:
A Leviathan—a giant mechanical serpent covered in alien armor—racing down the avenue as if it were a narrow tunnel. Its shadow descends on dozens of officers running in terror.
"Not while I'm here."
I bend my legs and launch myself with all my strength.
The world blurs around me as I soar like a massive red projectile, four arms outstretched as if ready to tear the sky itself apart.
I crash into its armored skull with brutal force; the metal groans under my weight, and the beast wobbles, smashing into buildings like a derailed train.
"FALL!"
I roar, driving my four fists into its head again and again. Each hit thunders like an explosion.
The Leviathan thrashes, its tail smashing cars and streetlights, but I don't stop.
With one final punch, its body convulses, and the monster goes still, pinned against the asphalt.
I breathe hard, chest burning.
No time to celebrate. Another Leviathan is already approaching.
"Come on, big guy… bring it to daddy." I prepare to leap again.
But then, something invisible and massive slams me square in the face.
It's not a laser, not a blaster: it's pure muscle and fury.
I'm launched like a projectile, crashing through a storefront and slamming into the back wall, destroying everything in my path.
"GHHH!" Air is knocked from my lungs.
Before I can react, the ceiling collapses as a massive figure falls on me.
Columns of arms start pounding me mercilessly. Each impact shakes the ground; I feel the pain cutting through even my hardened skin.
I shield myself with all four arms, desperate for a breath.
My attacker's roar is deafening, pure animal rage.
I seize a tiny opening and throw an upward hook with all my strength, concentrating the weight of all four arms into a single strike.
The impact is devastating. The creature flies through the debris, rolling across the street. I stagger to my feet, gasping, shoulders and ribs burning.
"What the hell was that…?"
My voice falters as I see it rising from the rubble.
Green, massive, muscles like mountains, eyes filled with pure rage.
The monster shakes off the dust, exhaling like a bull before charging.
I recognize it instantly.
"…Hulk."
We stare at each other, silence broken only by distant explosions.
The emerald giant steps forward, debris cracking under its weight. I feel small for the first time in this form.
I swallow, offering a nervous half-smile:
"…Am I a fan?"
================================================================
THAT'S IT FOR NOW, GUYS.
Almost 4,000 words—I've been sitting at my computer since 4 PM… and it's already 8 PM… haha.
I had several drafts, but there were parts I didn't like how they turned out—some only from Fury's side, others from bystanders watching the chaos, or just from the protagonist's point of view.
None of them convinced me completely, so I decided to make a mix of all perspectives.
I hope it turned out well and that you enjoy it.
In the next episode, our protagonist will have a big, green problem in his hands… (don't get any funny ideas) so we'll see how he handles it.
Thanks so much for all your support and comments—I love reading them and hearing your opinions :)
Take care, everyone!