CHAPTER 126 — Alien?!
The wind rushed past as Gaius, Tony Stark, and Superman flew over Gotham, the city below a blur of lights and shadow. The night sky was raining heavily, the streets quiet beneath them. Gaius moved with effortless precision, his golden armor slicing through the air. Flames trailed from his jetpack like streaks of molten sunlight,Tony, on the other hand, couldn't help but glance at Superman, whose face had grown serious in a way that Tony had rarely seen.
Then Superman's eyes shifted, scanning the distance, and his expression changed sharply. His gaze focused far below, on the streets of Metropolis. Tony followed his line of sight and saw nothing at first, but Superman didn't hesitate.
"Something's happening," Superman muttered. His voice was quiet, tense, full of urgency. He didn't wait for explanation. Without warning, he surged forward, moving faster than either Tony or Gaius could keep pace with. The sudden speed left them both behind.
Tony's eyes widened. "Wait! Clark!" he shouted.
Gaius didn't move immediately. He watched Superman streak away, then calmly raised an eyebrow. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, unaffected by the sudden shift in pace.
Tony's expression hardened. He clenched his fists. "Gaius! Did Superman see Titus and the others fighting the military?"
Gaius nodded subtly. His voice was calm, almost measured. "He did. It changes nothing."
Tony swallowed hard, worry tightening his chest. He knew what Superman was capable of, and he knew Gaius did too. Yet, seeing Gaius remain perfectly calm, his composure unshaken, Tony felt some of his own tension ease. If Gaius wasn't worried, maybe there was no reason for him to be either.
Moments ago, on the ground in Metropolis, the city's military response snapped into action. Within seconds of General Reeves' authorization, traffic barriers deployed automatically across streets, blocking civilian movement. Infantry squads moved with precision, taking cover behind armored vehicles and concrete barriers. SAM teams swung into position atop buildings, radar dishes swiveling to track any airborne targets. This wasn't a panic, it was efficiency, a machine-like precision bred from years of training and preparation.
From the Joint Operations Center, General Reeves and the newly arrived President observed the chaos through live feeds from on-site soldiers. Reeves' eyes narrowed at the screens, taking in the four massive armored figures moving through the streets.
"They're… synchronized," he muttered, disbelief in his voice. His fingers drummed nervously on the console.
The President leaned forward, Seeing the Dreadnought. "That's not a vehicle," he whispered. "That's a person inside a machine." His hand pressed lightly against the edge of the console as if bracing himself.
On the streets below, Titus adjusted the positions of the Bladeguard veterans subtly, shields angling, weapons shifting, all without a word. The Dreadnought stepped forward, each movement deliberate, every step cracking the pavement beneath its immense weight. No radio chatter, no hand signals. They moved as one, instinctively coordinated, every action anticipated.
Reeves and the President shared a look, understanding immediately the scale of what they were facing. This wasn't a rogue machine. This was something, someone, trained, disciplined, and unyielding.
Back in the JOC, sensors tracked the weapons systems mounted on the Dreadnought's arms. Reeves' brow furrowed as he took in the sight: weaponry unlike anything Earth had produced, technology clearly not from this world. These weren't machines alone. These were soldiers. Soldiers in armor beyond human limits.
The Secretary beside them spoke cautiously. "Do we engage, or attempt diplomacy first?"
Reeves shook his head slightly. "We don't repeat what happened last time. If we attack now, we could trigger a disaster we're not prepared for."
If it were just the giant golden armored figure and the sleek suit, he might have attempted to strike, maybe even capture their technology. But now, with Titus, the dreadnought, and the three Bladeguard veterans present, it was clear, these were trained soldiers from an advanced alien civilization.
The President's gaze remained steady, resolute. "We try diplomacy. First contact has to be measured. Otherwise, we risk escalating into something far worse." He didn't want to provoke a higher civilization capable of producing soldiers like these.
Meanwhile, Titus and the Bladeguard made adjustments of their own. Chainswords and regular swords were replaced by bolters, weapons designed for ranged engagement. One Bladeguard swapped his melee weapons for a plasma gun, the soft hum of its reactor audible even over the distance. The Dreadnought stayed behind, servos humming steadily, prepared for further Movements..
Every move was precise. Every shift in position carried weight, strategy, and coordination. The Soldiers nearby froze, watching the strange figures move with almost mechanical perfection.
A man in a formal suit approached the armored units from a distance. He walked slowly, deliberately, his hands relaxed at his sides. Daniel Reeveson, a diplomatic representative for the United States, carried himself with the confidence of someone trained in negotiations, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt. Inside, he wondered if trying diplomacy with beings like this was even possible. His mind ticked over contingencies: capture, interrogation, technology retrieval. Outwardly, however, he kept a calm smile.
He stopped a few meters away, taking a deep breath, and addressed the group. "Good afternoon. My name is Daniel Reeveson. I am a diplomatic representative of the United States, speaking on behalf of this nation and others. We acknowledge your arrival and restraint so far. This situation is tense, but it does not need to become violent."
Titus regarded him quietly, considering Captain Gaius' orders. He took a deliberate step forward, the ground faintly cracking beneath his armored boots. His voice carried easily, deep and resonant. "I am Titus. We have come to replenish supplies."
The Bladeguard followed, shields adjusting slightly, ready.
Titus continued, his tone measured and formal. "We require foodstuffs. Grain. Preserved meat. Livestock, if available. In exchange, we will depart this area and avoid further conflict."
His words were calm, clear, and carefully chosen.
On the surface, it was a simple request, reasonable, almost diplomatic. But beneath it lay purpose. The objective was not negotiation for its own sake, but control. Gaius' orders were clear: the city was to be taken, and its resources secured. If those resources could be obtained without open battle, then resistance could be avoided and the mission achieved with minimal loss.
Titus did not voice that truth. He did not need to.
If compliance came willingly, it would save time, effort, and lives. If it did not, the outcome would be the same.
Reeveson blinked, genuinely taken aback. It wasn't a demand. Not a threat. Just a request.
"That… sounds reasonable," he said after a moment, relief softening his features. "I'm sure arrangements can be discussed."
A small smile tugged at his lips. Beneath the professional composure, he felt a spark of happiness, this was a success. If it went through, he would be the first diplomat able to establish formal relations with an alien force. The thought filled him with cautious pride, even as he reminded himself to stay focused.
He added carefully, "After all, establishing diplomacy with alien forces is always preferable to-"
The word "alien" left his lips, and the effect was immediate. The Bladeguard stiffened, gripping their bolters tighter.
The Dreadnought's servos surged, a low hum rising into a roar. "Alien?" The word rolled out of its speaker-like mouth with centuries of anger, betrayal, and rage embedded into the tone. The ground trembled beneath its massive frame as it stepped forward, each movement deliberate, crushing the pavement beneath its feet.
Reeveson's calm facade faltered. His hands shot up reflexively, almost as if to shield himself. "I-I meant extraterrestrial! No offense intended!"
The words tumbled out quickly, his voice tight with nervousness. He realized almost immediately that the term alien might have been taken the wrong way, and he wanted to correct it before the situation escalated.
Too late. The Dreadnought's arm swung, massive and inexorable, moving with the deliberate weight of a falling skyscraper. The air itself seemed to compress under its force. Reeveson had no chance.
The punch landed with a sound that tore through the night: a thunderous crack, followed by a sickening crunch. Bones splintered instantly, his chest caving inward as ribs shattered like brittle sticks. The impact threw him back with brutal force; fragments of concrete and asphalt exploded beneath him. Blood sprayed like a crimson fountain, spattering the Dreadnought's gleaming armor.
His limbs flailed briefly, twitching as nerves and muscles were severed in the blink of an eye. Clothing shredded, torn apart by the sheer violence, and shards of bone and tissue were scattered across the street. Eyes wide in shock and pain, Reeveson didn't have a moment to scream, his body was obliterated before his vocal cords could even register terror.
The nearby building's walls trembled from the force, fragments of debris rattling down to the pavement below. Where Reeveson had stood, there was nothing left but a crater of shattered concrete and red-streaked remnants, a grim testament to the unstoppable power of the Dreadnought.
The soldiers in the perimeter froze, SAM sites locked, infantry gripping weapons tightly, every eye fixed on the devastation. The chaos was immediate, tension snapping through the ranks like live wires.
Titus and the Bladeguard held their positions, bolters ready, the plasma gun humming steadily. The Dreadnought's reactor thrummed louder, scanning the environment, prepared for further resistance. Every soldier on the street could see the scale of the threat: the raw power, precise coordination, and overwhelming presence of these figures.
On the screen in the Joint Operations Center, the feed shook violently.
Reeves stared at the spot where Daniel had been standing.
The President closed his eyes.
~~~
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