The ride back to City Z on the S.S. Discount was… uncomfortable.
Tatsumaki was awake. She sat wrapped in three heated blankets on the bridge, shivering not from cold, but from psychic recoil. Fubuki hovered around her like a anxious hummingbird, offering tea that Tatsumaki refused to drink.
Garou and Zombieman played poker in the corner, betting imaginary cigarettes. Darkshine was flexing in front of a shiny piece of hull plating, checking his eyes for damage.
Saitama sat in the pilot's chair (which he was definitely not qualified for), spinning around in circles.
"Stop spinning," Tatsumaki grumbled from her blankets.
"I'm checking the radar," Saitama lied, spinning faster.
"You're making me nauseous," she snapped, levitating his chair an inch off the ground to stop it. "And you owe me an explanation."
"About what?"
"About why you're wearing that ugly rag." She gestured to his destroyed grey shirt.
"Hey! Fubuki bought this for me!"
Tatsumaki shot a withering glare at her sister. "You dressed him? He looks like a homeless accountant."
"It was Armani!" Fubuki protested.
"It was Armani," Genos corrected from the Nav station. "Now it is... 'Derelicte'."
Tatsumaki sighed, the effort clearly exhausting her. "Whatever. Just... thanks. Or whatever." The words sounded painful coming out of her mouth. "For getting me out of the pickle jar."
Saitama stopped trying to spin the levitating chair. "No problem. Just promise not to destroy my roof again."
"I make no promises."
A heavy silence fell over the bridge. It was broken by King.
"Guys?" King said, staring out the main viewport. "Why is there a second moon?"
Everyone looked.
The night sky was clear. The normal moon hung there, pale and dusty. But next to it, rising over the horizon, was another sphere. It wasn't glowing. It was dark. Textured. And it had... wrinkles?
"That's not a moon," Child Emperor said, his voice trembling over the comms. "That's an eye."
The sphere blinked.
A wave of dread washed over the entire planet. Not psychic pressure this time. Instinctive terror. Like a rabbit realizing an owl is overhead.
"God," Shadow-san whispered. (Wait, Shadow-san was gone. It was real Garou whispering, feeling the echo of the other dimension's nightmare).
The Eye swiveled. It focused directly on the S.S. Discount.
The Eye closed. The "moon" vanished.
"He's gone," Fubuki breathed.
"No," Saitama stood up. "He's just changing the channel."
The ship landed in the center of City Z, right next to Saitama's reinforced apartment complex.
As the team disembarked, they were met by a crowd. But not an angry mob or adoring fans.
It was... S-Class. The rest of them.
Atomic Samurai stood with his arms crossed, chewing a stalk of grass. Child Emperor descended from his mech suit. Pig God was eating a hamburger. Even Flashy Flash was leaning against a lamppost, looking bored.
And at the front of the group stood Silver Fang.
Bang looked older. More tired. But his eyes were sharp as ever. He walked up to the group, his gaze locking instantly onto Garou.
Garou stiffened. His hand went to his mask, checking it was secure. He hadn't seen his old master since the Monster Association raid.
"Take it off," Bang said softly.
Garou hesitated. Then, slowly, he peeled off the black mask. He looked away, like a defiant child caught stealing cookies.
"Old man," Garou muttered.
"You look..." Bang's voice wavered. "You look fed. That is good."
He walked past Garou and stopped in front of Saitama.
"Sitch called us," Bang said. "He told us about the conscription order. About God. About... everything."
Atomic Samurai spat out his grass. "We're here to join the team, Baldy. The Association wants to put collars on us? Screw that. I'm a samurai, not a show poodle."
"Strategic logic dictates that consolidation of forces under a singular alpha-striker is the optimal survival strategy," Drive Knight said... wait, no. Drive Knight was dead/evil.
It was Metal Knight. Dr. Bofoi's drone floated down.
"Bofoi?" Genos aimed his arm.
"Peace," Bofoi's voice crackled. "My systems are still calculating the Saitama Variable. I offer my services as logistical support. And rent payment for the ceiling repairs."
Saitama looked at the assembled might of earth's greatest heroes. The strongest swordsman. The genius child. The martial arts legend. The tech overlord.
They were all looking at him. waiting for orders.
Saitama scratched his head.
"So," he said. "Does this mean we need a bigger hot pot?"
The tension broke. Bang chuckled. Atomic Samurai grinned.
"A massive hot pot," Fubuki declared, taking charge immediately. "Metal Knight, build a pavilion. Pig God, raid the supermarkets. Genos, maximize the heat settings. We're having a war council."
Two hours later, the roof of Saitama's apartment building was a festival. Metal Knight's drones had constructed a massive table. Lanterns hung from the Gatling turrets.
Meat sizzled. Sake flowed. For a moment, the end of the world felt very far away.
Saitama sat at the head of the table (mostly because Fubuki made him), stuffing his face. Tatsumaki floated nearby, secretly stealing the best pieces of beef with telekinesis when she thought no one was looking.
Garou and Bang sat together at the end. They weren't talking. They were just eating, occasionally passing the sauce. It was enough.
Zombieman was arm-wrestling Darkshine. Darkshine was winning, but Zombieman's arm kept snapping and regenerating mid-match, which was grossing everyone out.
"This is nice," King whispered to Saitama. "I haven't had a panic attack in twenty minutes."
"That's a new record," Saitama nodded.
Suddenly, a drone descended from the sky. It bore the seal of the United Nations.
It dropped a hologram projector onto the table, right into the onion dip.
A blue figure appeared. The Secretary General of the UN.
"Citizens," the hologram intoned gravely. "Heroes. Renegades."
The party went silent. Chopsticks lowered.
"We have received a communication. Not from the Hero Association. Not from Earth."
The hologram shifted to show a star chart. A massive fleet of ships was entering the solar system.
"These vessels hail from the Intergalactic Council. They claim that Earth has become a 'Cosmic Hazard' due to the resonance of the God Entity."
The hologram looked directly at Saitama.
"They have invoked the 'Planetary Quarantine Protocol.' They are not here to help us."
"They are here," the Secretary said, sweating, "to sterilize the planet."
"The first volley will impact in six hours."
The hologram flickered out.
Silence reigned on the roof.
Atomic Samurai slowly put down his sake cup. "Aliens? Again? Don't these guys learn?"
Flashy Flash drew his sword an inch. "I'll cut their engines."
Metal Knight's drone projected a simulation. "Negative. Their fleet size is 10,000 units. Planetary destroyers. Survival probability: 0.00001%."
All eyes turned to Saitama.
He was looking at the last piece of high-grade beef on the grill. It was perfectly cooked.
"Six hours?" Saitama asked.
"Yes," Genos confirmed.
Saitama picked up the beef and ate it. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor.
He swallowed.
"Well," he stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Guess I better go say hi."
"We go together," Bang stood up.
"Yeah," Atomic Samurai drew his blade. "Team Final Fortress, right?"
"Sure," Saitama said. He looked at Fubuki. "Can I borrow a ship? Mine's parked."
Fubuki tossed him a set of keys to the S.S. Discount. "Don't scratch the paint."
Saitama walked to the edge of the roof. He looked up at the stars, where 10,000 ships were charging their lasers.
"Space," he sighed. "Why is it always space? It's cold and there's no air."
He cracked his neck.
"Genos! Bring the space heaters!"
The S-Class assembled.
The War for Earth was about to begin. But for Saitama, it was just another noise complaint he had to go handle personally.
And he was definitely going to punch something very hard.