Ten minutes earlier—New York City.
Camila stared at the breaking news on her TV, lips twitching in disbelief.
She'd gone out planning to grab dinner with friends.
Now it looked like the world was on the edge of a third world war.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Before she could process it any further, the sharp sound of boots and engines filled the air outside.
Her villa was surrounded.
Dozens of armed agents moved into position, weapons raised.
"Go!"
The front door exploded inward.
Teams rushed inside.
Camila rolled her eyes, stood up, and walked into the kitchen like she had all the time in the world. She picked up a fruit knife, tested its weight, then headed for the entrance.
The first agent through the doorway barely saw her move.
A blur.
Then—
A thin red line appeared across his throat.
In less than a second, every agent who had entered collapsed, clutching their necks as blood poured through their fingers.
Camila stood among them, casually holding the now bloodstained knife.
"If I couldn't handle this," she said dryly, "then the last two months would've been a complete waste."
Elsewhere, inside Fisk Tower—
Wilson Fisk stood at the center of chaos.
Bullets struck him and flattened against his body, barely slowing him down. His massive frame moved like a wrecking ball as he grabbed one of the attackers and tore through him with brutal force.
"The mayor of New York?" Fisk sneered. "I've outgrown that."
He cracked his neck, eyes gleaming with ambition.
"Stick with Noah, and maybe I'll aim higher. Vice President sounds about right."
Around him, his men fought just as fiercely, emboldened by the same idea.
If Noah took the White House…
There would be plenty of power to go around.
In the heart of the city—
Gwen stood frozen, staring at the agents lying motionless at her feet.
Her hands trembled.
This wasn't something she was used to.
Beside her, a woman radiating quiet strength placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"Relax," she said gently. "We're here on Noah's orders. Our job is to keep you safe."
Gwen swallowed, forcing herself to breathe.
"Just give it a few minutes," the woman continued. "This will be over soon."
Out in the wasteland left behind by the nuclear blast—
Noah Vale floated in midair, completely still.
Waiting.
Two minutes passed.
Then he looked up.
A dark object cut through the sky, descending fast.
A tungsten rod—over ten meters long, weighing more than a dozen tons—plummeted toward him, accelerated by gravity alone.
"A kinetic strike?" Noah said, amused. "People still use these?"
Then again… with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tech, getting something like that into orbit wasn't exactly difficult.
He didn't move out of the way.
Instead, he raised a hand.
The rod slammed into his palm.
The impact released energy comparable to a massive conventional explosion, concentrated into a single point. The force drove his arm downward, bones cracking under the strain.
But it stopped.
Noah held it.
A moment later, his arm healed, restoring itself as if nothing had happened. In his hand, the massive rod had been crushed down to a dense sphere no larger than a fist.
He glanced upward.
Then—
Boom.
He shot into the sky.
Within seconds, he broke through the atmosphere.
Above him, a satellite platform hung in orbit.
Noah didn't hesitate.
He hurled the tungsten sphere.
It tore through space, then plunged back toward Earth, crossing the distance in an instant before slamming straight into the satellite.
The structure vanished in a flash of destruction.
Back on the ground, silence settled once again.
Inside the White House, President Ellis stared blankly at the reports.
"He's still alive," someone said.
Ellis didn't respond.
"Sir," an agent said carefully, "the evacuation aircraft is ready."
Ellis slowly lifted his head, eyes bloodshot.
"How did it come to this?" he asked hoarsely, looking at Vice President Rodriguez.
Rodriguez didn't answer right away. He just shook his head.
After a moment, Ellis spoke again.
"Are you leaving?"
Rodriguez hesitated.
"…We could surrender," he said. "If a nuclear strike didn't stop him, what exactly do you think will?"
Ellis lowered his gaze, struggling.
Surrender.
The word tasted bitter.
"…Do you think he'd let us live?"
Rodriguez nodded. "If we surrender, probably. I reached out yesterday—through Fisk."
Ellis looked at him sharply.
"You hedged your bets?"
Rodriguez shrugged. "Call it being prepared. You underestimated him. I didn't."
Silence stretched between them.
"So?" Rodriguez pressed. "Are you leaving?"
Ellis let out a long breath.
"…I'm done," he said quietly. "Let it burn."
He pushed away the agents trying to help him, exhaustion etched into every movement.
"If he wants to rule, then fine. It's not like we're the only ones dealing with this."
He let out a bitter laugh.
"A man walks through a nuclear explosion and comes out stronger. What does biology even say to that?"
High above, Noah checked the time.
Fifty-five minutes.
"Almost up," he murmured.
Then he moved.
The air detonated around him as he accelerated, streaking toward Washington at hypersonic speed. The shockwaves alone shattered glass and warped metal along his path.
He didn't slow down.
At exactly fifty-nine minutes—
He landed.
The impact shook the ground in front of the White House, sending dust and debris into the air.
Through the haze, his eyes locked onto two figures waiting ahead.
President Ellis.
Vice President Rodriguez.
Noah stepped forward, smiling.
"Looks like you made your decision."
Rodriguez was the first to move, forcing a polite smile as he approached.
"Mr. Vale," he said, voice smooth. "From this point on, we'll follow your lead. Whatever you say—we'll make it happen."
Noah glanced at him, unimpressed.
"Smart," he said. "So you're surrendering."
"Of course. And if you remember, I—"
Noah raised a hand and pushed him aside.
"I wasn't talking to you."
He stopped in front of Ellis.
"And you?"
Ellis looked drained, like everything had been stripped out of him.
"…I surrender," he said quietly.
Noah studied him for a moment.
Not wholehearted.
He smiled faintly.
"Then kneel."
The word hit like a shockwave.
Everyone froze.
"I said," Noah repeated, his voice cold now, "kneel when you speak to me."
His gaze swept across them.
"You lost."
A pause.
"So what's the problem with kneeling?"