The building on Park Avenue was dying. David felt it through his gift like a patient's failing heartbeat , structural integrity hemorrhaging with every second, concrete cracking under impossible stress, steel beams bending past their breaking point. Two hundred and seventeen people inside. He counted them instinctively, his awareness mapping each life through the architecture that surrounded them.
The helicopter couldn't land. Too much debris, too many Chitauri ships screaming past. The pilot hovered twenty feet above the street while David leaned out the open door, hands pressed against nothing, reaching.
"You're not touching it," the SHIELD agent said, confused.
"Don't need to." David's voice sounded distant even to himself. His consciousness was already inside the building, diving through floors and walls, finding every failure point. "I just need range."
The south wall was the critical problem. Three Chitauri energy blasts had punched through the facade, destroying support columns on floors twelve through fifteen. The weight of everything above was redistributing, overloading beams never designed for that stress pattern. In maybe ninety seconds, the upper twenty floors would pancake down onto the lower levels.
David reached deeper, past the physical structure, into the fundamental nature of the materials themselves. Concrete was just stone and cement and aggregate. Steel was iron and carbon and crystalline structure. And structure could be changed. Manipulated. Rebuilt.
He grabbed the failing columns with his will and made them hold.
The building shuddered. The collapse stopped. For a moment, everything balanced on a knife's edge.
Then David pushed harder. The destroyed columns didn't repair themselves , he couldn't create matter from nothing , but the surrounding structure flowed, redistributing, compensating. Concrete moved like wet clay, filling gaps, creating new load paths. Steel beams bent deliberately instead of breaking, forming improvised supports. The building's weight shifted, spreading across foundations that suddenly remembered how to hold impossible loads.
David's nose bled harder. His head felt like it was splitting. The helicopter pilot was saying something but the words didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was 217 lives depending on this structure not falling.
"Building's holding," someone said over the radio. "Repeat, structural collapse averted. How the hell , "
"Get rescue teams in there now," David interrupted, his voice rough. "I can keep it stable but I need those people evacuated. Fast."
"Copy that. Teams moving in."
The pilot pulled away from the building, heading for the next emergency. David kept one thread of his awareness anchored in the Park Avenue tower, maintaining its structural integrity while the rest of his attention scanned for new crises.
There were too many to count.
A brownstone on East 33rd had taken a direct hit, facade collapsed, family of four trapped in the basement. David reached out, made the rubble above them freeze in place, created a stable pocket of space. Rescue workers could dig them out safely now.
A hospital on Lexington had lost its south wall to a strafing run. David wrapped the entire building in his awareness, turned the remaining walls into temporary supports, gave it enough strength to hold until patients could be evacuated.
An office tower near Grand Central took a Chitauri ship directly through its midsection. David felt the building start to topple and screamed with effort as he forced it to stay upright, bending physics and engineering principles until the structure held despite having a twenty-foot hole through its core.
"Jesus Christ," the SHIELD agent breathed. "How many buildings are you holding right now?"
David couldn't answer. Couldn't spare the attention for words. His consciousness was spread across sixteen different structures, each one demanding constant adjustment as the battle raged. His physical body in the helicopter was just an anchor point. His real self was everywhere and nowhere, woven through Manhattan's architecture like a ghost in the machine.
The radio exploded with chatter. "We've got visual on hostile ground forces. Chitauri infantry deploying across Midtown. All units engage."
Through a building's windows near Times Square, David felt rather than saw the enemy troops landing. Dozens of them, insectoid armor, energy weapons, moving with predatory efficiency. They were hunting.
"Transport Seven, we need you at Times Square. Civilian crowd trapped by hostile forces. They need structural cover, something to hide behind."
The pilot banked hard. David opened his eyes , when had he closed them? , and looked down at Times Square. Hundreds of people running, screaming, dying. Chitauri soldiers cutting through them like wheat. And nowhere to hide, because Times Square was all open space and glass storefronts.
Nowhere to hide yet.
"Get me lower," David said. "Right over the center of the square."
"That puts us in the kill zone , "
"Do it."
The pilot cursed but dove. Chitauri weapons fire crackled around them. An energy blast punched through the helicopter's tail section. Alarms screamed. They were going down.
"Brace!" the pilot shouted.
David reached out with everything he had. The street below rippled. Concrete rose in a wave, forming a cushion beneath the falling helicopter. They hit hard but survivable, the ground itself absorbing the impact like foam.
The SHIELD agent stared. "Did you just , "
"Move!" David kicked open the door and rolled out. His legs barely held him. Using his powers this extensively was like running a marathon while doing calculus. Everything hurt. His head throbbed. Blood covered his face from his nose and ears.
None of it mattered.
He pressed both hands against the ground and pushed.
Times Square erupted. Not explosively , controlled, precise, architectural. The street itself rose and formed barriers. Concrete walls three feet thick sprouting from the pavement in geometric patterns, creating cover, forming defensive positions, giving the trapped civilians something solid to hide behind.
A Chitauri soldier fired at him. David raised his hand and a section of asphalt leaped up like a shield, absorbing the blast. He twisted his wrist and the pavement under the soldier's feet turned liquid, then hardened instantly, trapping it in place.
More Chitauri were coming. David could feel their footsteps through the ground. Twenty of them, converging on his position.
He smiled despite the pain, despite the blood, despite everything. They wanted to fight him on ground he controlled? Bad tactical decision.
The street became a weapon.
Sections of concrete shot up like spears, impaling Chitauri soldiers. Asphalt turned to quicksand under their feet, swallowing them. Walls formed and moved, herding the aliens into kill zones where NYPD officers could cut them down. David orchestrated it all, conducting urban warfare like a symphony, turning Times Square into a death trap for anything that didn't belong there.
A Chitauri got close, energy blade swinging for his head. David didn't flinch. A parking meter tore itself from the ground and smashed into the alien with enough force to crumple armor. Another soldier tried to flank him. The wall behind David grew an arm-thick concrete fist that pulverized the attacker.
"Fall back!" someone shouted. "Everyone behind the barriers!"
Civilians ran for the cover David had created. NYPD and SHIELD agents set up defensive positions. And David stood in the center of Times Square, blood pouring down his face, hands raised, making the city itself fight for its people.
An explosion rocked a building to his left. David felt it through his expanded awareness , a Chitauri bomb inside a residential complex, structural damage spreading. He reached out, stabilized it, kept it standing. Another building took fire. He caught it, held it, refused to let it fall.
A Leviathan , one of those massive flying whale-things , swept past overhead. Its wake shattered windows across three blocks. David felt every pane break, felt the people inside flinch from flying glass, felt the buildings shudder under the pressure wave.
He pushed back.
The buildings held. The windows that shattered reformed from impossible angles, glass flowing like water back into frames, creating barriers instead of hazards. The Leviathan's wake met resistance, architectural defiance, the city itself refusing to break.
"Contact!" someone yelled. "We've got more infantry incoming!"
David turned and saw them , a full Chitauri strike team, fifty strong, pouring out of a crashed transport. They had heavier weapons. Anti-vehicle cannons. Something that looked disturbingly like a rocket launcher.
"Everyone down!" David shouted.
The strike team fired. Multiple weapons, overwhelming firepower, enough to level a building. David caught it all. The projectiles hit walls he'd already raised, barriers he'd reinforced beyond any engineering standard. Concrete took hits that should have vaporized it and held. Steel absorbed energy blasts that should have melted it and stayed solid.
But David felt every impact like a punch to his own body. His gift let him manipulate structures, but that meant feeling their damage too. Each hit hurt. Each explosion registered. He was holding too many buildings, defending too many people, spread too thin across too much area.
Something was going to break. Probably him.
"I need support here!" he yelled into the radio he'd grabbed from the crashed helicopter. "Times Square is hot and I can't hold everything!"
"Copy that. Redirecting assets to your position."
A red and gold blur screamed overhead. Iron Man, engaging a cluster of Chitauri flyers, repulsor blasts lighting up the sky. Tony's voice crackled over every radio frequency simultaneously.
"Attention all forces, this is Iron Man. We've got friendlies doing impossible things with buildings across Manhattan. Try not to shoot them. They're on our side."
"Stark, this is Chen. I'm at Times Square. Holding defensive positions but taking heavy fire."
"Chen? Architecture guy? Didn't know you did field work."
"It's a new development."
"Well, keep developing. I'm a little busy with flying murder whales but I'll send you a present. Hold tight."
Thirty seconds later, a Quinjet roared over Times Square, strafing the Chitauri strike team. Not SHIELD markings , this one had Avengers insignia. The side door opened and someone jumped out from fifty feet up.
No parachute. They hit the ground like a bomb, cracking pavement, absorbing impact that should have been lethal. When the dust cleared, Steve Rogers stood there, shield on his arm, looking at David's architectural nightmare of a defensive position.
"You built this?" Captain America asked.
"Yeah."
"How?"
"Long story. We should probably survive the invasion first."
Steve smiled, and David understood why people followed this man. "Fair enough. Can you hold the barriers?"
"As long as I need to."
"Good. Then let's clear these hostiles." Steve turned to the assembled officers and agents. "Listen up! We've got defensive positions and a builder who can apparently make the city fight for us. That's more than most battles start with. Form up, establish fields of fire, and let's show these aliens they picked the wrong city to invade!"
The effect was immediate. Soldiers and cops who'd been falling back rallied. They took positions behind David's walls, set up overlapping fire lanes, became an organized defense instead of scattered resistance.
And Steve Rogers charged into the Chitauri strike team like he was born for it.
David had seen videos of Captain America. Had watched the old reels from World War II, the modern footage from when he'd woken up. None of it captured what Steve Rogers looked like in actual combat. The man moved like violence was a language he spoke fluently, shield blocking impossible angles, fists breaking alien armor, every motion efficient and brutal and precise.
A Chitauri tried to flank Steve. David made the ground grab its foot. The alien stumbled. Steve's shield took its head off.
Another one fired from elevation. David grew the wall beneath it, throwing off its aim. Bullets from NYPD marksmen finished the job.
They fell into a rhythm. David controlled the battlefield, Steve controlled the fight, and between them they turned Times Square into a grinder that chewed through Chitauri forces.
But it wasn't enough.
David felt it through his expanded awareness , the bigger picture he couldn't ignore. Across Manhattan, buildings were failing. His buildings, the ones he'd reinforced and prepared, were holding fine. But everything else? The older structures, the historic brownstones, the pre-war apartments? They were coming apart under sustained assault.
He was holding sixteen buildings stable. He could probably manage twenty if he pushed. But there were hundreds of structures under attack. Thousands across the invasion zone. He was one person, even with impossible powers. He couldn't save everyone.
The realization hit harder than any Chitauri weapon.
"David!" Steve's voice cut through his spiral. "I need another barrier, east side!"
David raised his hand. The street complied. Another wall, another defensive position. Civilians ran behind it, lived because of it.
One crisis at a time. One building at a time. One life at a time.
He couldn't save everyone. But he could save someone. And he'd keep doing that until the battle was over or he was dead, whichever came first.
A massive explosion rocked Midtown. David felt a Foundation building , one of his buildings , take direct hits. The South Bronx complex where his team was coordinating. Where Tyler and Sofia and everyone he cared about were sheltered.
His awareness snapped there instantly. The building was hurt but holding. His design, his preparation, his gift woven through every support beam. It would stand. He'd make sure it stood.
But it meant pulling attention from other structures. Meant making choices about which buildings to prioritize. Meant accepting that he couldn't hold everything.
"Status?" Steve was beside him, blood on his uniform, breathing hard.
"I'm spread too thin. There's too much damage across too wide an area. I can hold critical structures but..." David gestured helplessly at the city. "There's too much."
Steve looked at him, really looked, seeing the blood and exhaustion and desperate overextension. "How many buildings are you holding right now?"
"Nineteen. Maybe twenty. I've lost count."
"Jesus. David, you need to prioritize. Focus on structures with the most civilians. Let the empty ones fall if you have to."
"People built those buildings. They matter , "
"People in those buildings matter more. Make the hard choice." Steve gripped his shoulder. "I know it's not fair. I know it's impossible. But you're out here doing impossible things, so keep doing them where they count most."
David wanted to argue. Wanted to say every structure mattered, every building was worth saving. But Steve was right. He had to prioritize. Had to make choices. Had to accept limitations even while pushing past them.
"Okay," he said. "Okay."
He felt for the buildings across his awareness. Sorted them rapidly , occupancy, structural damage, strategic value. Made brutal calculations about which ones could fail without catastrophic loss of life.
Then he let go.
Three buildings he'd been holding collapsed. They were already evacuated, already clear. The failures were controlled, debris falling into evacuation zones instead of onto civilians. David felt each one go and hated it, but he redirected that attention elsewhere, caught two other structures that actually had people trapped inside.
Net gain: forty-three lives. Cost: three buildings and a piece of his soul.
"Good," Steve said. "Now keep doing that. Be surgical. Be strategic."
"I'm an architect, not a soldier."
"Today you're both. Come on , we've got more hostiles incoming."
They were. Always more. Endless waves of Chitauri forces pouring through that impossible portal. David made the street fight for them, raised barriers, created cover. Steve turned those advantages into enemy casualties with brutal efficiency.
And somewhere above, the portal stayed open, vomiting nightmare after nightmare into his city.
David reached deeper into his gift than ever before. Pushed past pain, past exhaustion, past every limit he thought he had. Buildings across Manhattan became extensions of his will. Not all of them. Not enough of them. But the ones that mattered, the ones with people inside , those he held with everything he had.
His vision blurred. His head felt like it was tearing apart. Blood ran from his nose, his ears, probably his eyes. None of it mattered.
The buildings held. The people lived.
And David Chen, architect who'd spent three years preparing for this exact moment, discovered exactly how much he was willing to sacrifice to keep his city standing.
Turned out the answer was everything.