Half a second.
A solid, diamond-shaped shield formed of pale blue energy lines materialized instantly in front of her left arm.
"Whoa…"
Jessica instinctively raised her arm. The shield felt so light it was almost weightless.
"I paid a ridiculous amount for that vibranium coating," Antony said calmly, "paired with Starr Group's latest energy-dispersion force field. It can absorb hundreds of tons of kinetic impact in an instant—without snapping your arm off."
"Cross your arms," Antony ordered.
Jessica did as told, crossing her forearms in front of her chest.
"Hmm—!"
Two shields snapped together in an instant, locking into a massive defensive bulwark that completely covered her body.
"Besides stopping ballistic weapons," Antony continued, clearly pleased, "when you charge, this thing lets you smash through buildings like a human bulldozer."
He reached into his pocket and tossed her a small, exquisitely crafted metal case.
Jessica caught it, opened it—and froze.
Inside were three injector vials, each glowing with a faint, eerie green light.
"What's this?" She held one up to the light. "Looks like radioactive waste."
"T-VEX," Antony replied. "Though I prefer to call it Popeye's Spinach."
He tapped the vial with a finger.
"This is your insurance."
"I don't need insurance," Jessica snorted. "I can throw a tank into the Hudson."
Antony shook his head. "You haven't seen real trouble yet, Jessica. This world is a lot more dangerous than you think."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. The pressure in the room shifted instantly.
"This will multiply your strength dozens of times for ten minutes. Might even unlock a few new tricks."
Then his finger lightly tapped the vial again.
"But remember—this is your trump card. Don't use it unless you have no other choice. Afterward, you'll be starving enough to eat a cow, and weak as a drowned rat."
"And the most important thing—if you use more than two in a single day… you might die."
Jessica slid the case into a hidden compartment on her belt.
"Got it. I'm not an idiot."
She frowned. "So who's the target? Worth this much firepower?"
"Orville Black," Antony said flatly. "Alias: Bonechewer."
He tossed her a tablet.
On the screen was a deeply unsettling photo—a massive figure with gray, corpse-like skin.
"Former underground black-market fighter. Gained his powers during some unknown ritual. Abnormal strength, hardened skin, and extreme brutality."
"Over the past week, he's gone active in Brooklyn and Queens. Killed three cops who tried to arrest him. And he ate one—"
Antony paused.
"…Never mind. You don't need the details."
"Bottom line—the President handed this one to us."
He gestured toward a man standing in the corner.
The guy was clearly a veteran Vought field cameraman—helmeted, wired up, GoPros hanging all over him.
"Dave," Antony said. "Say hi."
"Hi, Queen Jones!" Dave waved excitedly. "I'm Dave—your number one fan!"
Antony raised a finger and pointed directly at the camera.
"I don't care who the criminal is. I don't care how loud the cops are screaming."
"Jessica—your top priority…"
"Protect the camera."
He leaned in close, voice low and dangerous.
"If things go sideways, you can let the cops get hurt. You can even get hurt yourself."
"But if Dave dies—or the camera breaks—and the audience can't clearly see your heroic figure…"
"…I'll dock your bonus. Completely. And you'll be drinking that two-dollar-a-bottle bottom-shelf whiskey for an entire year."
Jessica ground her teeth.
"You are a complete nuts, Starr."
"Thank you," Antony said with a flawless smile. "Go, Queen. This is your debut. I'll be watching you on TV."
-----
Bronx District — Abandoned Dock Warehouse
Police sirens tore through the freezing wind.
More than a dozen squad cars and a SWAT armored vehicle sealed off the old warehouse.
"All units, be advised. Target possesses heavy firepower. Queen Jones will engage directly. SWAT handles perimeter containment."
The commander's voice crackled through Jessica's earpiece.
She exhaled slowly as rain slid down her hair.
Behind her, Dave was panting as he adjusted his camera. The red recording light blinked on.
"Ready, Queen?" he whispered. "Remember—angle your face just a bit. Lighting's better on this side."
"Shut up, Dave."
Jessica slammed her foot forward—
BOOM!
The heavy iron doors blasted inward like cannon shells, crushing an entire row of shelves inside.
"Who the hell—?!"
"It's her! Queen Jones!"
Inside the warehouse, more than a dozen criminals reacted instantly.
They weren't holding guns—but heavily modified Chitaurienergy rifles, muzzles glowing an ominous blue.
"Damn it."
Jessica instinctively looked for cover—then realized the poor cameraman was right behind her. If she dodged, he'd be shredded.
"This is a pain in the ass!"
She spun around, grabbed the frozen-stiff Dave, and yanked him behind her.
At the same time, she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Hmm—!"
The silver gauntlets expanded instantly.
A massive V-shaped energy barrier snapped into existence, completely shielding both of them.
"OPEN FIRE!!"
"PEW! PEW! PEW!"
High-energy beams poured toward them like a storm.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The shots rippled across the shield, layers of energy flaring—but none penetrated.
"Holy crap…" Dave whispered in awe, hands rock-steady as he filmed. The camera perfectly captured Jessica's unyielding back and the shield flaring open.
"Got what you need?" Jessica asked coldly.
"Got it! Perfect close-up!"
"Then stay down. I'm going to work."
Jessica pushed forward, shield raised—and charged.
She punched straight through the kill zone.
A huge thug swung a Chitauri shock baton from the side.
"DIE!!"
Jessica twisted just enough to let the strike slide past.
Her right hand snapped out like a viper, resting lightly on the man's wrist.
She followed his momentum—then pulled.
"See ya."
The two-hundred-pound brute spun through the air like a broken kite, flipped three and a half times, and smashed into a pile of scrap metal.
Crack.
The sound of a spine breaking echoed clearly.
"WOOO!" Dave zoomed in wildly. "Is that martial arts?! That was AWESOME!"
Jessica rolled her shoulders, eyes locking onto the remaining thugs.
"Next."
--------------
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