Bella slipped beneath the surface and swam to meet Sakura.
By any calculation, the dragon should have arrived earlier. Bella had been quietly worried the whole time—one wrong turn, one kindhearted old stranger offering candy, and this particular dragon would follow them to the ends of the earth without a second thought.
When she finally caught sight of her, Bella nearly laughed out loud.
Sakura had apparently been watching too much television. She'd found a stick somewhere, balanced it across her shoulders, and tied Bella's shirt into a bundle at the end of it—packed with things, four-cornered and lumpy—looking for all the world like a miniature runaway from an old cartoon.
Noticing Bella staring at the bundle, Sakura tightened her grip on it immediately. "These are my collectibles. They're... they're going back to Kun Lun with me."
Bella kept her expression neutral. "If you bring those back to Kun Lun, the elder dragons will beat you to death."
"That's slander! You are not allowed to say bad things about my family!"
Bella chose her words more carefully. "What I meant was—they'd probably seize your collectibles for themselves."
Sakura went rigid with alarm, then relaxed as some internal logic reassured her. "These are my private property. Dragon possessions belong solely to their owner—there's no concept of communal assets among us. That's the strange part about humans, actually. All these banks and credit systems and... complications."
Being lectured on economics by someone with the emotional development of a four-year-old left Bella briefly at a loss.
"Fair enough. Dragons are admirable creatures."
Sakura had made the journey hauling her collection of animated series for a very specific reason: Bumblebee's car would have power. It always had power. Even if the rest of the world went dark, the Autobot's systems stayed online—and power meant she could watch things.
Sakura, pleased with her own foresight, felt this demonstrated considerable intelligence.
"Bee!"
"Beep~?"
Sakura and Bumblebee exchanged greetings with the easy familiarity of old friends. The two had met before. Her relationship with Shatter was openly adversarial, but she and Bumblebee had always gotten along.
Natasha was in the back seat doing her best to entertain a baby—which, by the look of it, meant holding the infant and swaying back and forth. Her technique was more instinct than skill. It was working, mostly because Kitty's constitution was unusually robust—any ordinary newborn subjected to that rhythm for this long would have protested strongly.
When Bella climbed in, Bumblebee extended one mechanical arm from beneath the chassis and lightly tapped baby Kitty—a careful, curious gesture. Earth infants clearly fascinated him.
"Oh!" Sakura spotted the baby immediately, abandoning any thought of her collection. She pressed forward to examine the tiny person with the focused intensity of someone who had discovered a genuinely interesting artifact. "Little Bella! Is this yours and Little Nat's baby?"
The adults in the car produced a variety of expressions.
"She's our sister," Bella said.
The distinction meant very little to Sakura, who was already mimicking Bumblebee—a careful tap, then a delighted sound. "Oh, that's fun!"
Bella gave Kitty a couple of gentle prods herself. Then she settled in beside Natasha and let the quiet conversation take over, keeping her voice low.
The broader picture was grim. S.H.I.E.L.D. was fully committed to supporting national governments against the alien incursion—the pressure on their resources was immense. It wasn't just Natasha who was stranded. If Nick Fury himself were stuck on a boat somewhere right now, there was nothing to send him either.
California was the heaviest hit on the West Coast, but not globally. Several countries had far fewer military resources than the United States, and the response gap was showing. Coastal cities in multiple nations had already fallen. S.H.I.E.L.D. was prioritizing those—the places with no backup, no capacity to hold on without external support.
"How bad is it overall?" Bella asked.
Natasha's expression didn't shift, but something behind her eyes tightened. Even with a baby in her arms, the weight of it was evident. "Sri Lanka's coastline is fully lost. The Red Sea region has gone dark. Tokyo is still holding. Western Europe is still holding. None of those situations look stable."
Bella exhaled slowly. What could she do? Realistically?
Not much. Not against this.
This kind of war was won with missiles and air superiority, not magic. When the Chitauri had come for New York, the Ancient One had been reduced to defending a single city block. When Thanos had marched on Earth, Doctor Strange had tagged along with the Avengers and barely contributed. That was the honest reality of what she was. She had power—real power—and in this specific context, it accounted for very little.
At least there was a baby to poke.
Bella prodded Kitty once. Natasha prodded her. Bumblebee extended his finger from the chassis again. Sakura reached in with her tail.
Baby Kitty endured approximately ten minutes of this multi-species examination, her expression cycling through confusion and mild indignity.
Then Bella stopped.
Not because of anything she'd seen—but because she'd heard something. A faint impact, from below the waterline. A dull thud.
She raised one finger. Quiet.
Natasha went still and listened.
Bumblebee's head emerged from the driver's seat, turning left and right with the alert, loose attention of a dog who'd heard something interesting.
Sakura flattened herself against the car door and peered out in exaggerated silence.
In the gentle clanking rhythm of the chained fleet, four sets of eyes—and one set of mechanical sensors—converged on the same point.
A figure was walking toward the car.
Slender-framed, moving slowly. Crude armor plates strapped across its arms, chest, and legs. A dome-shaped helmet—roughly the dimensions of a cooking pot—covering whatever passed for a head. The plating had fused with the tissue beneath it over time, forming a true exoskeleton rather than worn armor.
Everything was coated in grime. Even after being swept by seawater, it looked ancient, battered, and deeply tired.
It was carrying a weapon—a firearm of unusual design, held loosely, pointed low.
Alien? Natasha shaped the word without sound.
Bella studied the thing as it approached. She'd seen the grandeur of the Isu civilization. She'd stood on Cybertron. By comparison, this looked like a discount-bin knockoff of a proper alien invader.
Injured, she mouthed back, and pointed at the creature's left leg. Unless the entire invasion force was traveling with a limp, that dragging gait was a wound.
The alien reached Bumblebee's car and stopped. It seemed curious about the vehicle—it leaned in toward the window, craning to look inside.
Bumblebee flung the door open.
The alien didn't make a sound. It crumpled to the deck and lay still.
Meanwhile, in the liner's bridge, the provisional council had moved on to logistics.
The news that several command centers along the coast had been overrun by alien forces had produced an immediate and unanimous reversal from the legislators: they were staying. They would remain with their constituents. They had always intended to stay.
"Have you consolidated the food supplies?" Sam Wilson asked.
Charlie, who had been managing that side of things for hours, looked like a man who had been awake for two days. "Done. We have enough for roughly twenty-four hours. What we need most urgently is additional food, clean water, blankets, clothing, and medical supplies—but food is the critical item."
The response from the command center, when it came, was swift. Airdrop packages began raining into the surrounding water almost immediately, and Hobbs Sawyer took out a motorized skiff to recover them, hauling crate after crate back to the fleet.