27th Street, New York City.
Once a bustling public space filled with laughter and tourists, the park now sat under an eerie silence. Not a single civilian remained.
The entire area had been locked down—not just by local police, but by the military.
At every entrance stood fully armed soldiers in combat gear, stone-faced and vigilant.
The kind of show of force that told you something serious was going down.
You didn't mobilize this many guns unless the threat was on a whole other level.
Gunfire echoed constantly through the air.
At the center of the plaza, a line of vehicles had formed a barricade. A tactical assault vehicle led the line, flanked by several unmarked black SUVs—all forming a blockade across the main east-west exits of the square.
Behind the tactical vehicle stood a burly man with a square jaw and granite expression. His eyes were fixed on the target up ahead.
Not far from him, eight soldiers took cover behind benches, planters, and reinforced riot shields, their rifles trained on a single figure standing defiantly near a decorative fountain statue.
Arms spread wide, her body was completely enveloped in a roiling blue flame-like energy field.
It wasn't just fire—it was something more. Something that shimmered like plasma, hot enough to melt the bullets fired at her into molten slag before they even touched her.
The bullets kept coming, but they never reached her.
This glowing barrier held firm.
Around her feet, several piles of ash in vaguely human shapes marked where earlier soldiers had tried to take her down the hard way—and failed.
"Don't make me do this!"
The woman's voice rang out—clear, angry, but edged with fatigue. She was reaching her limit.
She threw her hands forward.
The blue flames around her exploded outward in a devastating pulse, engulfing a radius of over sixty meters in a tide of shimmering fire.
The soldiers scrambled behind cover, not even thinking about returning fire.
Some were lucky—their barriers held.
Others weren't so fortunate.
Screams pierced the air as the fire licked through cracks in the defenses, setting several men ablaze. They rolled on the ground, howling in agony.
"Colonel Katz, this isn't working!"
One of the officers turned to the towering man beside him, his face pale.
"Our people can't contain her. We've called for backup, but they're at least fifteen minutes out!"
Fifteen minutes might as well be forever at this rate.
"What about the RPGs?"
Colonel Katz's voice was low and calm—but there was a deadly finality in it.
"But sir, our orders were to capture, not kill—"
The colonel grabbed the man by his collar mid-sentence, pulling him in close.
His stare was like a blade.
"Are you questioning my command?"
The subordinate swallowed hard.
In that instant, it felt like a wild beast had him by the throat.
He saluted stiffly, then turned and ran to carry out the order.
Within moments, a rocket launcher had been pulled from the tactical truck and hastily mounted. The team locked onto the target.
With a loud thoom, the rocket soared across the plaza and slammed into the woman's shield.
The explosion rocked the square.
Her energy barrier convulsed violently, writhing like a stormy sea under impact.
The woman herself was hurled backward, crashing hard into the statue behind her, which collapsed under the force.
Colonel Katz allowed himself a small, cold smile.
Beside him, the same subordinate—who had just moments ago protested—was now staring wide-eyed in horror.
The answer came seconds later.
She was still alive—and already forcing herself upright, body trembling, burns scarring her arms.
Not even a rocket could kill her? What the hell kind of monster is this?
Suddenly, he was the one wishing for another rocket—this time to finish the job.
"Move in. Take her down."
Colonel Katz waved a hand.
A squad of soldiers broke formation and began to advance cautiously.
A deep, muffled sonic boom rang out from overhead—drawing confused glances from everyone.
A shadow blurred in the sky.
A figure slammed into the pavement with explosive force.
Dust shot up in waves. The ground shook.
A shockwave of compressed air rippled outward, stirring coats, hair, and smoke as it rolled through the plaza.
A young man of Eastern descent stood tall in the middle of the chaos, dust swirling around him like a scene from an action movie.
Was he… falling from the sky?
He didn't have wings. How the hell—
Even for a mutant, this was a bit much.
The soldiers stared in disbelief.
Colonel Katz narrowed his eyes.
The newcomer didn't acknowledge them. Didn't speak.
He simply walked calmly, almost casually, across the plaza—ignoring the guns pointed his way—and knelt down beside the wounded woman.
Her face came into view.
Delicate. Fierce. Familiar.
He knew this face. He'd seen her before—somewhere important.
But the name… didn't come to him right away.
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