The humid air of July hung heavy over New York City, a familiar blanket of urban haze and distant sirens.You were halfway through her lukewarm coffee. ​Before you can drink it and could process the world outside your window, it turns into a kaleidoscope of screaming metal and crumbling concrete. you Looking out, and you saw it: a colossal, bipedal machine, its metallic hide scorched red, digging a crater where Madison Square Park used to be. Its arm cannon, a massive barrel glowing with residual heat, swiveled slowly, scanning the chaos it had wrought. It was a Scorch-class Titan, a walking inferno from a world that didn't exist.