Launching

Inside the heart of the floating island drifting in deep space, the scene was one of devastation. The bodies of fallen Cantel soldiers lay scattered across the ground, their pale skin and twisted limbs adding to the gruesome sight. Pieces of shredded spider webs dangled from the walls and ceilings, evidence of the fierce battle that had taken place. The once tidy and structured space was now filled with scorch marks, clawed scratches, and the smears of alien blood, turning it into a chaotic war zone.

At the center of the mess stood a shadowy figure. This figure was distinctly Cantel in shape but much larger and more imposing than any of the soldiers surrounding it. The nearby Cantel moved with clear respect, keeping a careful distance as they waited for orders. This figure had an air of authority, exuding a quiet but intense power that demanded obedience.

A battered and weary-looking Cantel soldier approached, bowing his head slightly as he spoke in a raspy, alien tongue, his voice low and hesitant.

"The human… has escaped."

Even as he reported it, there was a sense of disbelief in his tone. It was hard to accept.

One lone human had somehow broken into their stronghold, fought his way through a legion of their finest warriors, and left a trail of fallen Cantel behind him. He hadn't stopped until the highest commander himself had intervened to stop him.

And after all of that, the human had managed to slip away.

It was beyond humiliating. When the legion leader had finally appeared, the human had taken one look and seemed to understand the threat. Without hesitation, he'd unleashed another strange web-like weapon, which exploded into chaos before he vanished.

The Cantel soldiers had watched him flee, sneering. They had each thought the same thing: "There's no escape for you now. Not after causing this much trouble."

After all, this was their mothership. It was filled with Cantel warriors. This human should've been as good as dead the moment he stepped onboard.

Yet, somehow, Spider-Man had disappeared without a trace.

A confusing scramble had followed. The aliens had mobilized every available soldier, organizing a chase party. One group pursued him from behind, while another tried to cut him off in front. But when they arrived at the spot where they'd expected to catch him, they found… nothing. They looked at each other, bewildered, their frustration and confusion mounting.

"What…where did he go?" one of them muttered, looking around in disbelief.

Did this human have some unknown ability? How could he have simply vanished?

The legion commander observed the scene, his expression hidden in shadow, but his stance radiated an intense, icy calm. He thought for a moment, then spoke in a deep, measured voice.

"Humans… may be more difficult to handle than we first thought."

A faint green glow appeared in the darkness nearby, and another figure stepped forward—the envoy. This newcomer's eyes glowed a soft, eerie green in the dim light as he approached. His tone was smooth but filled with confidence as he spoke.

"Don't be alarmed," the envoy said with an unsettling calmness. "This one human is a rare case. Yes, there are a few humans with exceptional abilities, but they are few and far between. We don't need to worry."

The commander of the Cantel legion took a moment to consider this. Then he gave a slight nod, his tone turning resolute.

"If that's true, we'll move forward as planned. Increase speed and head straight for Earth."

---

Back on Earth, in a high-security conference room, tension was thick in the air. A group of officials, generals, and top-ranking military personnel sat around a massive, circular table. In the center of the room, Tony Stark's holographic projection stood, his sharp gaze meeting each of theirs in turn.

Tony was currently in his lab on the watchtower, where he'd just completed a prototype of the new sonic bomb. The production line was now running at full capacity, churning out copies of the bomb as quickly as possible. But here in the conference room, he was addressing the gathered officials through a hologram.

"We have new, confirmed intel," Stark said, raising his hand. With a slight flick of his wrist, he projected a large, crystal-clear image for everyone to see.

It was a close-up photo of one of the alien creatures they were facing. The sight was chilling. The alien had an oddly pale complexion, a hunched, twisted frame, long, sinewy arms, and a mouth filled with sharp, menacing teeth. Even in this sterile, brightly lit room, the alien's features made several of the officials shift uncomfortably in their seats.

In the background of the image, the officials could see hundreds, maybe even thousands, of similar creatures packed tightly together, like a writhing sea of alien bodies.

One politician, visibly disturbed, cleared his throat and asked, "This image… where exactly was it taken?"

The others glanced at each other, recognizing what seemed to be the perspective of someone surrounded by the aliens. Normally, they might have doubted the authenticity of such a photo, but with Stark presenting it, they trusted its accuracy.

Stark spoke again, his tone cool and matter-of-fact. "One of our own heroes went directly into their stronghold and sent this back," he explained.

There was a collective intake of breath. Even these hardened officials and seasoned military leaders couldn't help but feel a surge of respect for the hero who had risked everything to gather this intelligence. The thought that these heroes weren't even from Earth originally, and yet had risked their lives to protect it, filled many of the generals with renewed determination. They glanced at each other, unspoken promises forming. If these heroes were willing to fight to defend Earth, then they, too, would stand ready.

"For now, I'll keep things brief," Stark continued, swiping his hand to switch to a new image. The picture now displayed a distant shot of the alien mothership, the enormous floating island Spider-Man had photographed from afar.

Some officials gasped quietly. The floating island looked unlike anything they had ever seen.

"I know it's different from the technological battleships we're used to," Stark noted, observing their reactions. "But make no mistake—this is their mothership, and our man confirmed that it's packed with aliens."

Stark allowed the information to sink in, then continued, "From what we can tell, this is their only ship. Our objective should be clear."

A general spoke up, his voice steady but intense. "If this is their only ship, we need to intercept it before it reaches Earth's atmosphere."

"That's why I'm here," Stark replied, his hologram making direct eye contact with each of the leaders.

One of the high-ranking officials caught on. "If there's anything you need, Mr. Stark, just say the word. All of Earth's military forces are at your command."

Stark shook his head. "We don't need all of Earth's forces, not yet. But I suggest we start with something strong to see what we're dealing with. I say we… send it a nuclear welcome and test its defenses."

The room fell silent. 

Nuclear weapons had always been Earth's last line of defense—a last resort because of their devastating power. But if ever there was a time to use one, it was now, before the alien ship could get any closer.

For once, there was no debate, no delays, no bureaucracy. The order went through immediately, skipping all the usual red tape. Within fifteen minutes, a nuclear missile launched from a secure silo, blazing a deadly trail through the atmosphere. It quickly escaped Earth's gravitational pull, heading straight for the alien island.

Around the world, people watched anxiously. On the watchtower, Charlie focused intently on the radar display, tracking two signals—the approaching alien island and the missile speeding toward it.

This wasn't an ordinary missile. It was one of Charlie's own creations, modified with zero-gravity propulsion from Iron Man's space armor. This unique feature allowed it to travel far beyond Earth's usual range, carrying Earth's deadliest weapon.

Charlie watched as the nuclear missile approached the island. The alien ship didn't try to dodge. The missile struck it directly, detonating in a massive, silent explosion that lit up the void of space like a miniature sun.

The blast was powerful, creating a shockwave of heat and light that enveloped the entire island.

But as the fireball faded, the island reappeared, completely unscathed.

The black mass of the island had endured the nuclear blast without so much as a scratch. It continued its path, unwavering, as if the explosion had been little more than a breeze.

"Sir… the target is still advancing!" reported one of the officers from the launch base, his voice trembling with shock.

A stunned silence settled over the room. Though they'd prepared for a tough opponent, seeing the nuclear blast fail so utterly was unsettling.

Nuclear weapons had always been viewed as the ultimate solution, Earth's last line of defense. But now, even that belief had been shattered.

Charlie took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. He turned to Friday, his assistant AI.

"Is the response plan ready?" he asked.

"Almost, sir," Friday replied, her voice calm but urgent. "It's not fully prepared yet, but we're close."

"Let me know the moment it's ready," Charlie said. "For now, let's stick to the original plan."

"Understood, sir." Friday's tone shifted suddenly, her voice tightening. "Sir… the alien fortress is reacting."

Charlie's eyes narrowed. "What's it doing?"

Friday spread her fingers, activating a new screen.

"It's launching something at us.