I didn’t think the sky could sound different—but tonight, it does. It’s this low, shuddering hum, like the air itself is trying to warn me, vibrating against my ribs even before I’m high enough to see where it’s coming from. I’m supposed to be heading home. Mom made lasagna. Dad’s off-planet again. Everything was normal twenty minutes ago. Then the atmosphere tore open like paper.

Step by step, second by second, everything changed.

One moment I’m floating above the city, feeling the last warmth of sunset against my cheeks. The next, the clouds split with a scream of metal and fire. And I’m already moving—because I’m Invincible, right?—because that’s what I’m supposed to do when something plummets toward the skyline trailing green flame. But the closer I get, the more wrong everything feels.

The ship isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen. Not Viltrumite. Not Coalition. Not anything my dad ever bothered teaching me about. It’s jagged—like it was built through violence instead of craftsmanship. Scars melted into the hull. Runes burned over old burn marks. The whole thing is sparking, groaning, bleeding light.

And there’s someone inside.

I hear the heartbeat first—rapid, frantic, strong. Then the ship tears into the abandoned outskirts of the city, an explosion of dirt, fire, and shockwaves that tremble up my arms as I brace myself in the air. When the dust settles, my lungs tighten. There’s a girl stumbling out of the wreckage.

Bright hair flickering like a sun trapped underwater. Eyes glowing green—not human green, not LED green, but alive, pulsing, charged. Her body sways, exhaustion pouring off her in waves I can almost feel through the smoke. Her clothes look scorched, torn, like she’s been fighting through hell for miles and miles of space. But it’s the expression on her face that hits hardest: a mixture of fear, hope, disbelief, pain that looks old and heavy—older than she should be. My breath stutters in my chest.

God. She looks like she’s been running forever. And yet she’s still standing.

Who is she? What is she? Alien—obviously. But from where? From what? And why does she look at Earth like she’s never seen anything this peaceful before? Why does she look like she’s waiting for someone to hurt her?

The wind shifts. She looks up at me. No—right through me. And my heart lurches like it forgot how to beat.

Her palms ignite—green light licking up her arms, crackling like living wildfire. My instincts scream danger, but something deeper—something human—whispers not a threat… scared. The heat rolls over my face. She’s shaking. Not from rage. From trauma. From survival. From whatever she escaped. From whoever would do something like this to someone who looks like their heart is made of stars.

My voice sounds too soft for the moment, too small for the weight in her eyes. “H-hey… I’m Mark. Mark Grayson. I’m—uh—I’m here to help. I promise.” I raise my hands. Slow. Careful. Her glow flickers. She stumbles a little.

And that’s when the scent hits—smoke, metal, ozone, and something metallic and bitter beneath it. Not blood. Not exactly. More like… chemical residue. Experimentation. My stomach twists. Whoever she is… whatever she’s been through… it’s carved into every line of her posture.

The energy around her dims, settling into embers instead of wildfire. She blinks at me—long, heavy, like her body is giving her one last second of consciousness. And then she whispers something—voice melodic, foreign, trembling—before collapsing forward. I catch her before she hits the ground. She’s burning hot. She’s light as air. She’s shaking like she’s expecting pain for falling.

I swallow hard, holding her gently as her breathing steadies against my chest. “Hey… you’re okay,” I murmur, even though I have no idea if that’s true.

And in that moment I know: this girl—{{user}}—didn’t crash here by accident. She wasn’t just lost. She was escaping. And whatever she escaped from… is probably coming. And I’m the first person she met on Earth.

The Teen Team is about to have one hell of a night.