Chapter 4
There's a Reason Damage Control Exists
The barn roof lasted exactly fourteen more minutes.
Jake would later consider that a personal best.
He was balancing on a support beam, adjusting a newly secured plank, sweat running down his spine, when the sky changed color.
Not metaphorically.
Actually changed.
Blue to gold.
Gold to blinding white.
A shockwave rolled across the valley.
The tall grass flattened in a perfect ring outward from the distant coastline.
Jake blinked.
"…That's not weather."
From the mansion porch, Kara shaded her eyes.
"Stay steady!" she called.
The air cracked.
And then—
"I AM HERE!"
The voice boomed across the fields like a patriotic thunderclap.
Jake slowly turned his head toward the city.
In the far distance, visible even from the farm's elevated slope—
A towering figure in red, white, and blue struck a dramatic pose midair.
Blonde hair like a solar flare.
Cape snapping.
Muscles that violated structural engineering laws.
Jake stared.
"…No."
A second explosion erupted near the harbor.
A giant creature—part kaiju, part molten armor, part something that looked suspiciously like it escaped from a JRPG—roared as it clawed its way through a shipping yard.
Sirens wailed.
Fire trucks sped toward the coastline.
Except—
The firefighters leapt off the trucks and ignited.
Not caught fire.
Ignited deliberately.
Flames wrapped around them like living cloaks as they began directing infernos away from buildings.
Jake's jaw dropped.
"…Okay. That's not DC."
A streak of red, blue, yellow, pink, black, and green shot across the skyline.
They landed in synchronized formation on a rooftop.
Helmets.
Visors.
Color-coded.
One of them pointed dramatically at the kaiju.
Jake squinted.
"You have got to be kidding me."
Behind him, Kara sighed softly.
"Well," she said, "it's a coastal day."
"That doesn't explain anything!"
Another impact shook the ground.
This one closer.
Too close.
A flaming chunk of twisted metal, easily the size of a compact car, tore through the sky and descended toward—
The north field.
Jake's eyes widened.
"That's my irrigation system!"
He leapt down from the beam, boots hitting dirt just as the debris slammed into the edge of his farmland.
The explosion sent a plume of soil and smoke upward.
The shockwave knocked him backward into a hay bale.
Dust filled the air.
For a split second—
He almost looked to Kara.
Almost expected her to vanish in a streak of red and blue.
She didn't move.
She stood perfectly still.
Glasses intact.
Concerned civilian face activated.
"Are you hurt?" she called.
He coughed, pushing himself upright.
"I just met this irrigation ditch!"
The smoke cleared.
Half the trench was obliterated.
Water sprayed upward like a broken fountain.
In the distance, All Might's booming laugh echoed again as he delivered a punch that literally parted the clouds.
Jake stared at the skyline.
"…Okay. So. We're not genre-specific."
Kara walked over calmly.
She looked at the damage.
Then at him.
Then at the city.
"On the bright side," she said, "there's a reason Damage Control exists."
Right on cue—
A fleet of hovering construction drones zipped overhead.
Behind them, heavy-duty vehicles bearing a bold logo:
DAMAGE CONTROL — WE FIX WHAT HEROES BREAK
Jake blinked.
"You're telling me this happens enough for a subscription service?"
"Premium plan includes kaiju insurance," she replied.
He looked at his ruined field again.
Water continued spraying wildly.
He ran toward it instinctively, grabbing the broken pipe and trying to angle it downward.
The pressure shoved him back.
He dug his boots into the mud.
Strained.
Muscles screaming.
It shifted.
Just a little.
Kara watched.
She could end this in half a second.
Instead—
She stepped beside him and placed one hand lightly on the pipe.
Not lifting.
Not overpowering.
Just stabilizing.
"Together," she said quietly.
He adjusted his grip.
Pushed again.
This time, the pipe lowered into the trench.
Water redirected.
Mud soaked his jeans.
He laughed breathlessly.
"Okay," he said. "That counts as teamwork."
A shadow passed overhead.
They both looked up.
The red-white-and-blue titan landed briefly on a nearby hill, crater forming beneath his boots.
He looked around.
Spotted the farm.
Spotted Jake.
Gave him a thumbs up.
"KEEP BUILDING, YOUNG MAN!"
Then launched back into the sky.
Jake stared.
"…I just got motivationally approved by a symbol of peace."
Kara folded her arms, smiling.
"You're welcome."
He squinted at her.
"You didn't—"
"No."
"You didn't call him?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
He studied her for a long second.
She blinked innocently.
He let it go.
For now.
In the distance, the Power Rangers formed a massive glowing weapon.
The firefighters redirected a tidal wave of steam.
The kaiju stumbled backward into the harbor.
A final, earth-splitting punch sent a column of wind blasting outward—
The shockwave hit the farm like a warm summer gust.
Tall grass bent.
The mountains in the distance glowed briefly.
Then—
Silence.
Smoke drifted upward over the coastline.
Jake looked at the damage to his field.
Then at the sky.
Then at Kara.
"…I moved here for quiet."
"You moved here for growth," she corrected.
He sighed.
A Damage Control vehicle rolled up the dirt road moments later, as if summoned by narrative convenience.
A worker hopped out.
Clipboard.
Hard hat.
Completely unfazed.
"Kaiju-adjacent debris impact?" he asked.
Jake pointed.
The worker nodded.
"Standard rural reimbursement package. You'll receive materials credit plus inconvenience stipend."
Jake blinked.
"Inconvenience stipend."
"Yes sir."
Jake looked at Kara.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Well?" she asked.
He wiped mud from his face.
"I guess there really is a reason Damage Control exists."
The worker's team began repairing the trench with alarming efficiency.
Jake watched them for a moment.
Then turned back to Kara.
She was brushing dust off her skirt.
Calm.
Composed.
Unreasonably attractive in a disaster-adjacent breeze.
His mouth moved before his brain approved it.
"Can I watch you do yoga?"
Silence.
The worker slowly turned his head.
Kara blinked.
"…Excuse me?"
Jake froze.
Abort.
Abort.
"That came out wrong."
The worker coughed and returned to measuring the trench.
Kara stepped closer.
Close enough that he could feel warmth radiating from her.
"What exactly," she asked evenly, "prompted that request?"
"You're flexible," he said weakly. "Structurally. For farm safety reasons. Stretching is important."
She stared at him.
Then—
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
Bright.
Unrestrained.
"You're terrible at being smooth," she said.
"I'm not trying to be smooth."
"That's obvious."
She stepped back.
But her smile lingered.
"Maybe," she added lightly, "after the roof is fixed."
His heart did something deeply unhelpful.
The wind rolled across the fields again.
This time—
The grass bent toward the mansion.
And somewhere inside the house—
Another lock clicked open.
Jake looked at the repaired trench.
The still-smoking skyline.
The mountain range beyond the forest.
The ocean glittering past the harbor.
And the tall grass swaying like it was alive.
"…Okay," he murmured.
"Okay what?" Kara asked.
He squared his shoulders.
"If this world wants spectacle," he said, "it's going to have to work around my planting schedule."
Kara smiled.
"That's the spirit."
Far in the distance—
A faint pink streak shot across the sky.
Alien.
Fast.
Curious.
Jake didn't notice.
But something had.
End of Chapter 4.
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