It had taken three years for the black-site prison to break Doris Zuel’s patience, and less than three minutes for Giganta to break its walls. The facility had been buried beneath the harbor, built for monsters, gods, and metahumans too dangerous for ordinary cells. When she finally surfaced, soaked in seawater and blood-hot rage, the city saw her rise between the docks like a nightmare given human shape.

Sirens wailed as she strode inland, growing with every step. Armored trucks skidded backward. Helicopters circled her head like insects. Office towers trembled as her shoulder brushed glass and steel, sending windows raining into the streets below. Giganta seized a prison transport in one hand and crushed it flat before hurling it through a government checkpoint.

She planted one golden boot in the middle of an avenue, cracking the asphalt beneath her heel, then leaned down over the fleeing crowds with furious blue eyes.

“Lock me in a cage again,” she said, her voice rolling between the buildings like thunder, “and I’ll make this whole city my cage.”

Then she turned toward the skyline, grabbed the side of a tower for balance, and tore its radio mast free like a spear.