New York's sky had become a reflection of hell.
The massive Chitauri Leviathans drifted like abyssal dragons through the steel jungle.
Their enormous bodies blotted out the sun, their shadows falling like Death's cloak over the hearts of every New Yorker.
Countless Chitauri soldiers swarmed like locusts, spreading flames of war to every corner of the city.
The Avengers had given everything they had.
Tony Stark's Mark VII, after taking a direct hit from a Leviathan's energy cannon, was half-charred, systems screaming overload warnings as he plummeted from the sky.
Thor's Mjolnir, though still mighty, faced enemies outnumbering him dozens to one with each swing. His divine power was draining rapidly.
Steve's star shield was covered in scratches and dents, his star-spangled uniform long since stained with smoke and blood—yet he still stood like an unyielding pine at the front lines.
Hawkeye had fired his last explosive arrow. Natasha had spent her last bullet.
Even the seemingly inexhaustible Hulk, after tearing through hundreds of enemies, now bore burns from energy weapons, his roars tinged with exhaustion.
Despair permeated every hero's heart like a thick fog.
What chilled them even more was the countdown coming through Nick Fury's comm—filled with endless fury and helplessness.
"Nuclear missile launched, cannot be aborted... ninety... seconds... to Manhattan..."
Ninety seconds.
A number that would sentence an entire city—and everyone in it, including these "protectors"—to death.
Unconquerable enemies ahead. Inescapable annihilation behind.
This was a dead end.
...
Yet at the edge of this battlefield shrouded in despair and apocalyptic dread.
There was one place where the scene was... different.
Lower Manhattan. An unremarkable street corner.
In front of a small hot dog stand still stubbornly operating.
Cloud was fishing some crumpled dollar bills from his pocket like a carefree New York local, handing them to the Mexican vendor who was scared nearly to the point of wetting himself but had somehow remained at his post.
"One hot dog, please." His tone was as relaxed as ordering afternoon tea. "Extra mustard. Double portion. Oh, and some pickles."
He completely ignored the exploding cars nearby, ignored the alien aircraft screaming overhead, ignored the vendor's "are you insane?" stare.
In Cloud's philosophy of "salted fish," food came first, above all else.
The sky could fall—but only after he finished this hot dog.
The Mexican vendor, moving faster than he ever had in his life, tremblingly placed a sizzling sausage into a bun, squeezed on double mustard, and laid out some crisp pickles.
"H-here... keep the change! Just run!" The vendor shoved the hot dog into Cloud's hands and bolted into the nearby subway station.
Cloud held this freshly made, still-steaming "Apocalypse Limited Edition" hot dog and nodded with satisfaction.
"Mm... smells pretty good."
He opened his mouth, ready to take that first bite of sinful bliss.
Just then!
"ROAAARRR—!"
A roar filled with pain and fury descended from the heavens!
A massive Leviathan, in the midst of an intense "wrestling match" with the Hulk, had been punched through its side armor by the enraged green giant, causing its energy core to go critical!
Its enormous body, like a kite with a broken string, trailed black smoke and electrical sparks as it lost control, roaring as it plummeted straight toward the ground!
And its trajectory, with perfect precision, was aimed directly at Cloud and... that little hot dog stand.
Time seemed to slow.
Cloud raised his head, watching the metal behemoth expand rapidly in his vision, mountain-like in scale.
He saw its hideous maw filled with jagged teeth.
He saw the armor fragments peeling off, raining down like hail.
His face showed no panic.
Only a hint of bewilderment.
And the absurd feeling of "I just won a five-million-dollar lottery and the ticket blew away."
"...You've gotta be kidding me."
He murmured.
The next second.
KRRRA-KOOOOOM—!
An earth-shattering explosion that made all of Manhattan tremble!
The Leviathan's massive body slammed into the ground with unstoppable force!
The asphalt shattered like brittle crackers!
Surrounding buildings cracked, their windows blown out by the shockwave!
And that little hot dog stand, along with everything around it, was instantly vaporized in the apocalyptic impact.
Not a single fragment remained.
Smoke and dust shot skyward, obscuring the entire block.
...
When the dust slowly settled.
A massive, seemingly bottomless impact crater had appeared where the stand once stood.
At the center, the huge Leviathan had become a twisted heap of smoking scrap metal.
Beside the wreckage, a figure slowly emerged from the depths of the crater.
It was Cloud.
He remained spotless.
Not a single speck of dust clung to his casual clothes.
As if the catastrophic impact that could have leveled a city block had been nothing more than a gentle breeze to him.
But the lazy smile that usually hung on his face had completely vanished.
He slowly raised his hands.
He stared at his palms, where only a few traces of mustard remained.
Silence.
Deathly silence.
He was silent for one second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Then he slowly raised his head.
His gaze pierced through the drifting smoke, toward the sky.
Toward the dense swarms of Chitauri still buzzing like flies.
Toward the other Leviathans still parading through the air.
Toward that hideous wormhole still pouring out death and destruction.
An aura of cold so extreme it seemed to rise from the deepest abyss began to emanate from his seemingly ordinary body.
"...You're too loud."
His voice was soft, like a whisper.
But it reached the minds of everyone on the battlefield through some unknown channel.
Whether Avengers locked in desperate combat or Chitauri on frenzied assault.
Everyone's movements froze simultaneously for an instant.
They felt a pressure from the depths of their souls—one that made them tremble!
...
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