The streets of Manhattan had become a meat grinder.
Smoke, thick and acrid with the smell of ozone and burning rubber, choked the air. Steve Rogers didn't have the luxury of flight like Tony or Leo, but as he landed in the center of the chaos, his presence felt just as heavy. He brandished his vibranium shield, the star in the center scuffed but unyielding, and charged into the wreckage of what used to be a thriving commercial district.
Above, the sky was still a mess of Chitauri flyers. They moved in predatory patterns, diving low to strafe anything that moved. On the ground, the scene was even worse. Civilians, blinded by dust and paralyzed by terror, were crawling beneath overturned yellow cabs or huddled behind the reinforced concrete of building pillars.
A few blocks ahead, a makeshift defensive line had formed. Dozens of NYPD squad cars were positioned in a frantic semi-circle, their sirens still wailing, though the blue and red lights were mostly obscured by the debris. The officers weren't trained for an interstellar invasion, but they were New Yorkers—they were digging in. They fired their service pistols and shotguns wildly at the shadows darting between the high-rises, their bullets mostly pinging harmlessly off the Chitauri armor.
A young sergeant was shouting into a radio, his voice cracking with hysteria as he reported to his superior. "We're pinned down! We can't hold the intersection! They're coming from the windows, they're coming from the sky—"
Suddenly, a blue blur plummeted from a nearby ledge. Steve used the momentum of a falling SUV to leap, his boots slamming onto the roof of a squad car with a metallic thud.
The Sergeant and the older Police Officer in charge nearly jumped out of their skins, their guns swiveling toward the newcomer. They saw a man in a vibrant, slightly old-fashioned blue combat suit, looking like he stepped straight out of a history book.
Steve didn't waste a second on introductions. His voice was a calm, steady boom that cut through the sound of gunfire like a hot knife. "Officer, listen to me. You need to stop trying to hold the street and start saving the people."
The older Officer stared at him, stunned. "Who the hell are—"
"Get your men into that building over there," Steve interrupted, pointing his shield toward a large bank across the street. "There are hundreds of civilians trapped in the upper floors, and the Chitauri are already inside. Clear them out. Move them through the basement levels or get them into the subway tunnels. The underground is the only safe place left."
He shifted his gaze down the road. "I'm going to push through to 42nd Street and try to draw their fire. Establish a perimeter here, but prioritize the evacuation. Do you understand?"
A younger cop nearby, his face pale and sweating, looked at Steve's "spangled" outfit and let out a derisive bark. "Look at this guy! You think because you're wearing a costume, we're gonna take orders from you? We've got a situation here, buddy, get lost!"
As if on cue, a screech echoed from above. Three Chitauri flyers, sensing a gathering of prey, banked sharply and dropped. They didn't even land before they started firing their energy lances.
Steve didn't flinch.
He swung his shield up, the vibranium absorbing the blue energy bolts with a series of dull pangs. In one fluid motion, he stepped off the car and lunged. He caught the first Chitauri in the chest with a punch that carried the full weight of the Super Soldier Serum, sending the alien flying twenty feet into a brick wall.
The second soldier raised its rifle, but Steve was faster. He flicked his wrist, and the shield blurred through the air. It struck the Chitauri in the neck, ricocheted off a lamp post, and returned to Steve's hand just as the third alien tried to tackle him.
Steve grabbed the third soldier's arm, twisting the alien's own energy rifle against its chest. With a sharp grunt, he used the edge of his shield to shear through the creature's mechanical limb, then kicked the wailing monster into the path of an oncoming flyer.
Silence fell over the police line for a heartbeat. The officers stared at the pile of alien scrap that used to be a squad of elite warriors.
The senior Officer didn't wait for another word. He turned to his men, his voice finally finding its command. "You heard the man! Get those people out of the bank! Move it! We're going to the subway!"
Steve nodded once—a soldier acknowledging a soldier—and took off running toward the heart of the battle.