Alex POV – Streets of Manhattan
The city is broken. Smoke still curls from collapsed buildings, alien wreckage littering the avenues, and people are dragging themselves out from under rubble.
But they're not running from me.
They're staring.
Phones are everywhere, flashes snapping, videos streaming. Some whisper. Some cheer. Some just gape. But no one comes too close. It's like I'm surrounded by an invisible bubble of fear and awe.
Then someone shouts it from the crowd.
"Ultra-Man!"
The word hangs in the air. A kid repeats it. Then another voice. And another. Soon it's a chant — rough, unpolished, but it sticks.
"Ultra-Man! Ultra-Man! Ultra-Man!"
I glance down at my chest, at the bold red-and-blue suit, the U glowing bright. I smirk. They think they gave me that name. They don't realize I made it inevitable.
The Avengers Arrive
Boots crunch on broken glass. Armor hums.
Iron Man drops from the sky, thrusters smoking. Thor lands with a crack of thunder, Mjolnir in hand. Cap pushes through the crowd, shield still raised. Hawkeye and Natasha flank him, eyes sharp.
They form a half-circle around me, the world's most famous heroes staring at the new player who stole their spotlight.
Iron Man's faceplate slides open. He looks me up and down.
"Nice entrance. Bit heavy on the property damage, but hey — saves me a therapy bill later."
Thor grips his hammer and booms, "Truly, Midgard has birthed a warrior worthy of song."
Cap steps forward, hand out. "Whoever you are… thank you. You saved lives today."
I take his handshake. Firm. Unflinching. The crowd roars louder.
Natasha POV – Reading Him
I smile with the rest of the team. I even clap him on the shoulder like a comrade. But inside, my brain's already spinning.
This man came out of nowhere. He moves faster than anything we've seen. He breathes ice, shoots fire from his eyes, punches through monsters like paper. Thor's supposed to be a god, but this stranger just made him look small.
That's not coincidence. That's not normal.
That's dangerous.
So I step closer. I let my smile warm, tilt my head just right. I know how to play this game.
Men like him — men hungry for attention — they notice when someone notices back.
"You're full of surprises," I say softly, just for him. "Not many men can fly out to space carrying a nuclear warhead and live to brag about it."
His grin widens. Hook, line, sinker.
I keep my tone light, playful, but each word is a probe.
"So… where did you come from? Another planet? Some experiment gone wrong? No offense, but guys who can breathe ice and burn tanks with their eyes don't just show up out of thin air."
He chuckles, but doesn't answer. Not yet. That's fine. Silence can be as telling as words.
I lean in, my gaze locking with his, voice dropping into something halfway between curiosity and invitation.
"You don't have to tell me everything. Just… something. Who are you, really?"
The crowd still chants. The Avengers still stare. But in this moment, it's just me and him.
And if I can peel back even one layer of this "Ultra-Man"… it might save us later.