Tracy had to park on the street three blocks from the overfull driveway, muttering to herself about parking tickets and cops recognizing her car from the incident at the abandoned house. She stomped towards the apartment where she had first met Mike several days prior, convinced the dumb white people she had fallen in with had no idea how to fly under the radar. Mike’s car had been at the scene of their confrontation with the cop, so of course they went back to the house where that vehicle was registered.

Stepping through the open door of the apartment, Tracy prepared to unleash some sarcasm on her new – but equally dumb – boss, Erica Spencer. Her immediate impulse proved untenable when she realized the entire room stared at the television with an intensity she had never seen from any of them before.

“What?”

“Marius and Mike caught the Empire State Building,” Woodrow told her, voice full of awe.

“Say what?”

“And then someone ripped the limbs right off Marius and carried him away,” Woodrow continued.

“You’re shitting me.” Tracy pushed Woodrow aside to get a better view of the television, putting herself right next to Erica Boss Lady Spencer. “For real, what is going on?”

Erica briefly turned to face Tracy, shook her head, and returned her attention to the television. “I wish I knew, Tracy. I think we lost our leader. Mike might be a hero or a criminal. No one knows anything. Including us.”

“So what are we supposed to do now?”

“Wait until Mike tells us what to do. Which . . . I think is about to happen.” Erica nodded towards the television, which displayed an image of Mike standing one step to the side and back of a woman she didn’t recognize. In the banner at the bottom, the word ‘Live’ indicated that the events were currently happening.

A female reporter cautiously entered the camera frame, creeping forward to stand before them, microphone in hand. “I am approaching the individuals from earlier events now. Though neither of these two were directly involved in the attacks against the city and both have engaged in actions to oppose those who have harmed us, I approach with an abundance of caution. Their stance outside our studio suggests they want to make a statement. Tell us, strangers, who are you and are you friends?” The reporter held the microphone towards the brown-skinned woman standing before Mike.

“My name is Stateira Cassandane. Formerly of the Angmari fleet, I am currently Imperator of the newly formed Earth Defense Army. My comrade is Michael Dombroski, a Centurion in the EDA. Our organization exists for the purpose of defending this planet from any and all external threats. Those threats are many. There is a second fleet approaching this world, crewed by a people called the Chekowan. They conquer worlds to impose their own form of order. There are rogue elements already on Earth misusing the talents, such as the terrorists who have been active in the past several days. And there is also the threat represented by the Angmari, whose interests do not entirely coincide with those of us who intend to live here permanently.

“While we have been operating in secrecy up to this point, recent events have made it necessary for us to go public. The EDA is an independent organization dedicated to your protection. It has no connection to your government or any other, but in the future we intend to forge working relationships so that we can coordinate rapid responses to incidents. Our presence alone should reduce future violence. We will be asking for volunteers to join the Earth Defense Army once we become more established.

“Until then, I encourage the people of this city, this nation, and this world to step up to the challenges of the day. Take care of your wounded. Reopen your businesses. Rebuild your cities. Live your lives with pride and dignity, not in cowering fear of what may come. This is a risky time, but the future can be brighter than ever if we are brave enough to create it.”

The news reporter pulled the microphone back to speak herself. “So you claim to be friendly?”

“Please don’t waste our time,” Cassandane said. “My statement made abundantly clear that we exist to protect the people of this planet. Our actions today back up that claim. If you have any intelligent questions, I am open to a dialogue, but my main purpose here was to make a statement, which is done.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to insult you. This is an unprecedented situation, which I’m sure you can appreciate. Tell me, who are the enemies you were fighting today? Why did they attack New York and why did you allow one of them to escape?”

Cassandane looked at the reporter as if a dog had just done its business on her living room floor. Nevertheless, she answered the questions. “The enemy we faced was a powerful man. We were unable to defeat him outright, but we killed all of his followers. I suspect he chose this city to make a spectacle that would terrify the population. Whether or not he succeeded will be determined by the bravery of your citizens in the coming weeks and months.”

What could be seen of the reporter’s expression from the camera angle made her appear frazzled and uncertain. She sidestepped to approach Mike. “What of your actions today? While preventing harm to One World Trade Center, reports indicate that your handling of the Empire State Building was rough and caused further injury to the occupants.”

The microphone in his face, Mike’s stony demeanor cracked momentarily when he shot a surly expression towards Cassandane, who nodded for him to answer. Mike took a deep breath. “You ever caught a building before?”

The reporter pulled back a bit. “No, of course not.”

“It’s harder than it looks,” Mike said.

Before anyone could speak further, Cassandane stepped between the reporter and Mike. “Thank you for providing the opportunity for us to address the nation. We cannot afford to stay here any longer, so we will be returning to our base to continue the training of our soldiers.”

“Where is your base?” The reporter shouted towards her levitating interview subjects. She stared into the air after the disappearing man and woman. She turned, microphone drooping, to stare back towards someone not quite in line with the camera, apparently unaware they were still broadcasting. “I think they said Pittsburgh?”

“Holy shit,” Erica said.

“The best Ski could come up with was ‘harder than it looks’,” Varanelli said.

Tracy looked at the two women, shook her head, and turned to Woodrow. “The hell is that woman who just said she’s running our army? Any of you know about this?”