M99- Aftermath

I would really appreciate some feedback on the battles in the previous few chapters. My goal was to focus only on the main or important parts to keep the word count manageable—otherwise, the Avenger battle alone would have stretched beyond five chapters. I didn’t want to unnecessarily prolong the fights, but if you feel the immersion was weak and more detail is needed, I’ll make adjustments moving forward.

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The aftermath of the battle was as chaotic as expected.

New York wasn’t new to destruction, but this was different. The streets were littered with broken Chitauri weapons, wrecked vehicles, and smoldering remains of buildings caught in the crossfire. Some areas still burned, the glow of fires reflecting off shattered glass. Bodies—human and alien—lay where they had fallen. Sirens wailed in the distance, emergency services finally moving in now that the immediate threat was over.

Heroes and fighters scattered across the city, dealing with whatever came next. Some checked on civilians, others secured unconscious enemies. Some just stood there, catching their breath, letting reality sink in.

Nero and his group had already moved to higher ground. The seven of them stood atop a half-collapsed building, surveying the mess below.

Nigel stepped up beside Nero. "Neogenes are en route for crowd control. Plundering’s already starting, but Angel says they have the city under control."

Diego added, "Ezio’s guilds took down over two hundred. Villains, aliens, mix of both. Secured some weapons, looted what was worth taking. Sent the report and the bill."

Nero took the tablet Nigel handed him and skimmed through it. Nothing unexpected. The clean-up had already started.

Meanwhile, Sofia’s work was already spreading. The footage of the World Security Council’s decision to nuke the city had hit the internet. First on a handful of hidden servers, then on every major platform before anyone could stop it.

The reaction was instant.

News anchors struggled to keep up as headlines exploded across the world.

WORLD SECURITY COUNCIL APPROVED STRIKE ON NEW YORK

GOVERNMENT PLANNED TO SACRIFICE MILLIONS—LEAKED FOOTAGE REVEALS

SHIELD AND AVENGERS SAVED US? OR WAS IT SOMEONE ELSE?

Even as the first waves of emergency responders flooded the streets, people were glued to their screens. The raw footage played on repeat. The council members’ voices, cold and clinical, deciding New York wasn’t worth saving. The timer on the missile. The way it had vanished mid-flight.

Then, of course, came the questions.

Who stopped it?

How?

And most importantly—who the hell were the seven masked figures in the sky?

The debate had already begun. Some called them heroes. Some called them terrorists. Some weren’t sure what to call them, only that they had done what no one else could.

Reports flooded every channel. The footage of the missile decision had gone viral. Political fallout was already starting. The World Security Council was scrambling, trying to shift blame, throwing out statements about “necessary measures” and “unprecedented circumstances.”

Nobody was buying it.

Even governments outside the U.S. were reacting. Some praised SHIELD for stopping the invasion. Some condemned the WSC for even considering the strike. Others had a different question entirely.

Who were the seven?

Theories spread fast.

The footage of the Seven in the sky wasn’t something people could ignore. The internet had already lost its mind over it. Speculation ran wild. Were they mutants? Enhanced humans? Some said they were remnants of a hidden SHIELD project gone rogue. Others claimed they were an ancient order that had existed in the shadows for centuries.

But then, more reports surfaced.

People started digging. And what they found didn’t make things any clearer.

Governments scrambled for answers. Military intelligence agencies pored over footage, trying to match them with known operatives, enhanced individuals, or past incidents.

A few reached into the absurd, throwing around ancient myths, secret societies, and gods walking the earth.

But one thing was certain: this wasn’t their first move.

All across the globe, past sightings resurfaced. Blurry images. Partial footage. Testimonies from survivors.

A HYDRA facility in Argentina—wiped out in a single night. Every scientist dead. Classified projects erased. Survivors, the ones who weren’t HYDRA, reported seven figures tearing through the compound.

A human trafficking ring in Eastern Europe—destroyed. No survivors among the captors. The victims rescued, scattered across hidden safe houses. No official records. No explanations. Just the same masked figures seen leaving the wreckage.

A covert drug operation in Southeast Asia—gone. The local authorities had no clue who did it. The only evidence left behind were bodies, warehouses burned to the ground.

Every major intelligence network had similar stories.

To the public, the Seven were a mystery wrapped in speculation. But SHIELD? They knew better.

They had the full reports.

Most of the facilities wiped out weren’t random crime dens. They were HYDRA black sites. Places even SHIELD had trouble locating. The kind of places that weren’t supposed to exist, housing experiments that would make even the Council nervous.

And now they were gone.

Fury stood in the command center, watching the reports flood in.

Everywhere they had gone, they hadn’t just caused destruction. They had ended something.

Drug syndicates gone.

Child trafficking rings wiped out.

War profiteers executed in their own hideouts.

The world wasn’t mourning their targets.

That didn’t mean everyone was happy.

And some—those who had lost money, influence, or leverage—wanted revenge.

At SHIELD’s command center, the reaction was more controlled—but not by much.

Hill watched as the feeds rolled in, her fingers flying over the console, trying to shut down the leaks before they spread any further. It was already too late.

The call from the World Security Council came through.

Fury didn’t even look at the screen. "Let me guess. They want me to take down the video."

Hill nodded. "And hunt down the Seven Masked Vigilantes."

Fury exhaled through his nose. "Of course they do."

Erwin watched from the side. "They’re scared."

"Good," Fury muttered.

Hill muted the line for a second. "Are we actually doing it?"

Fury didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned toward the massive screen displaying real-time surveillance of the city.

The battle was over, but the consequences were just beginning.

Then he spoke. "Not our priority."

Hill raised an eyebrow. "That’s not a no."

Fury didn’t confirm or deny it.

Erwin smirked. "If they were easy to find, we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Fury turned back to the screen. "Let them talk. The Council’s already losing control of the narrative. For once, I’m not going to stop them."

Tony approached Steve and Sam, dusting off the remnants of battle from his suit. “Alright, so, up for some shawarma?”

Steve, still surveying the ruins of the battlefield, sighed. “I am hungry.”

Natasha and Hawkeye walked up, both listening in.

Sam tilted his head. “Shawarma? At this time, you want to try eastern?”

Tony pointed at him. “First off, cultural experience. Second, yes.”

Natasha smirked. “We just stopped an alien invasion and now we’re going for wraps?”

Clint shrugged. “Could be worse.”

Hulk, a few yards away, scoffed. He took one last look at them before turning and leaping into the air, disappearing into the distance with a few massive bounds.

Tony arched a brow. “Are we just letting him leave?”

Fury’s voice came through the comms. “Track him.”

Before Hill could give the order, another voice cut in.

“Best not.”

Fury clenched his jaw. “You again.”

Hulk vanished from their radars. Hill double-checked the systems, her fingers flying across the controls. “It’s not interference. It’s just… gone.”

Steve exhaled. “Well, that’s that.”

Tony wasn’t satisfied. “I really hate when people just pop into our comms like that.”

Natasha smirked. “You really hate when you can’t do anything about it.”

Tony muttered something under his breath.

Fury switched frequencies. “Status?”

Hill checked the screens. “Emergency services are fully deployed. Neogenes are handling civilian security. Street-level heroes are covering the rest. The city’s still standing.”

“Barely.”

Across the city, the X-Men were making their quiet departure.

The Blackbird hovered just outside New York airspace, cloaked and unseen. The last of the mutants had already boarded, but Magneto had lingered just a moment longer.

He stood on the outskirts of the battlefield, watching as the city shifted from war zone to aftermath.

Xavier’s voice came through the comms. "You’re not staying."

Magneto scoffed. "You sat in your plane and watched."

Xavier didn’t argue. "We weren’t needed."

Magneto turned slightly, just enough to glance toward the sky where the Seven had been. "Perhaps."

Then, without another word, he lifted off the ground and flew away.

Inside the Blackbird, the younger mutants were still absorbing what had happened.

Cyclops exhaled. "So we just leave?"

Jean leaned back. "We came just in case. That’s all."

Toph sat with her arms crossed, fuming, her foot tapping against the floor of the Blackbird. She barely reacted when Storm approached, placing a hand on her head.

"Calm down, little one," Storm said. "We weren’t needed."

Toph blew a puff of hair from her face. "Many died. We could have prevented that."

Sokka, sitting beside her, exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, not exactly feeling great about sitting on our hands either."

Cyclops, across from them, shook his head. "We were backup. If we moved in too early, we might’ve made things worse."

Toph snorted. "Right. Because we’d have ruined all the fun."

Storm let her hand drop, glancing at Xavier, who had yet to say anything.

Jean shifted in her seat, arms folded. "The battle was already won before we arrived. We wouldn’t have changed the outcome."

Toph turned her head toward her. "That’s a real pretty way of saying we did nothing."

Jean didn’t argue.

Logan, leaning against the bulkhead, exhaled. "Should’ve let ‘em go in. Would’ve been a good fight."

Xavier finally spoke. "A fight was never the objective."

Toph scoffed. "Well, congrats, mission accomplished."

Then Kira made his exit.

Not quietly, of course. That wasn’t his style.

The fires still burning through Hell’s Kitchen flared brighter as he stood at the center of it all, arms spread as if welcoming the destruction. His voice carried across the ruined streets, loud and clear.

"This city is mine now!" he declared. "I am Kira, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen! Anyone who thinks otherwise can come burn!"

A long silence followed.

Then Diego let out a short laugh. "Oh, come on."

Donald sighed. "Cringe."

Anthony shook his head. "Very dramatic, though."

Sofia snorted. "I’ll give him credit. The branding is solid."

Maria tilted her head. "Theatrics aside, it works. Fear is a leash."

Kira let the fires linger a moment longer, then turned and walked into the smoke, disappearing from view.

Spider-Man, perched on a broken streetlight, stared after him. "We’re just letting him do that?"

Daredevil adjusted his gloves. "Not our fight."

Luke Cage crossed his arms. "Wouldn’t call it a win, though."

Nobody disagreed.

Fury knew that. The fighting had stopped, but this was just the start of something bigger. The council had been exposed. The Seven had made their move. Kira had taken over Hell’s Kitchen. There was no going back to normal.

The world had changed. Again.

Coulson watched the flames devouring the remains of Hell’s Kitchen. “We’re just letting Kira do whatever the hell he wants?”

Fury didn’t react.

Coulson’s jaw tightened. “He disregarded us, declared himself king in front of us. That’s a blatant attack.”

Erwin laughed, sharp and cold. “You think he just decided to take over tonight? He waited. You should be asking why.”

Coulson didn’t respond immediately. Erwin didn’t wait for him to catch up.

“He could’ve removed Kingpin any time he wanted. He didn’t. Because removing a force like that creates a vacuum, one that pulls in everything around it. Fisk was cemented—structured, predictable. Kira let the war happen first, let the streets bleed, let the city tear itself apart.” Erwin tilted his head toward the burning skyline. “Now, the only thing left to replace Fisk is him.”

Coulson exhaled. “And we’re supposed to be fine with that?”

Erwin shrugged. “Fine? No. But if we try to remove him, not that it’ll be easy, it’ll leave a bigger vacuum. One that won’t fill itself with structure—it’ll fill with chaos.”

Hill, still working at the console, glanced up. “He’s already making moves.”

Surveillance feeds flickered across the screens. Fires still raged, but they weren’t spreading wildly anymore. They burned in controlled sectors, marking boundaries more than destruction. Groups moved through the wreckage, not looting, not scavenging—organizing. Criminals, mercenaries, the ones who hadn’t fled were already falling into line.

Kira wasn’t declaring control. He had already taken it.

Coulson clenched his fist. “So what, we just let him keep it?”

Fury’s voice was flat. “For now.”

Hill frowned. “And later?”

Fury didn’t answer.

Kira stood at the heart of it all, watching the embers smolder. The streets were his now, and everyone knew it. Those who didn’t like it were either dead or smart enough to stay quiet.

Frank Martin stepped up beside him.

Kira didn’t look at him. “You finally done pretending?”

Frank let out a short breath. “Fisk served his purpose.”

Kira smirked. “So did you.”

Frank didn’t flinch. He knew the truth of it. He had spent years as Fisk’s right hand, maneuvering through the underworld, enforcing control, eliminating threats. But he had always known how it would end.

Kira took a slow step forward, letting the heat wash over him. “You know what happens now?”

Frank nodded. “Everyone who mattered either died tonight or ran.” He gestured toward the city. “The ones left will fall in line.”

Kira glanced toward the wreckage, where a few scattered survivors knelt before his men. Their weapons were tossed aside, heads lowered, waiting for whatever judgment came next.

"Then let’s get to work." Kira’s voice cut through the crackling fires. "Nero tasked me to awaken your Will Flame and train you."

Frank nodded, showing no surprise.

He had known his purpose from the start. From the moment Nero summoned him, his path had been set—embed within Kingpin’s empire, gain rank, wait for the signal. Assassination was never the end goal. It was just the last step.

Kira gestured, and the men began sorting through the remains of Fisk’s operation. Some of the criminals, the smarter ones, had already switched sides, recognizing the new order before the dust even settled. Those who hesitated wouldn’t hesitate for long.

The heroes watched as Kira and Frank disappeared into the ruined streets.

Daredevil stood near the wreckage, arms crossed, jaw tight. “We just let him do this?”

Iron Fist exhaled sharply. “We let him defend the city. That doesn’t mean we let him keep it.”

Luke Cage shook his head. “You think anyone’s stopping him now?”

Nobody answered.

Further up the street, Spider-Man was still perched on a crumbling light post, watching. He had cracked jokes throughout the whole fight, but now he wasn’t saying much. Black Cat glanced at him. “Gonna try and web him up?”

Peter let out a short laugh. “Yeah, and then I’ll try punching the sun.”

Felicia smirked. “Smart boy.”

Daredevil turned away, fists clenched. "He played us. Used the chaos to take everything."

Shang-Chi spoke up, arms folded. "He also burned through an invasion force that would've torn this city apart."

Luke Cage's voice was low. "That's the problem, isn't it? This city’s still standing—but now it's his."

Jessica Jones scoffed. "Like it ever wasn’t someone’s."

Danny ran a hand through his hair. "We’re not stopping him today."

"Or tomorrow," Luke muttered.

None of them liked it. But none of them had an answer, either.

The world was still catching up.