Wiltrumit Mark

Location: Chicago, Loop. The destroyed Willis Tower has half collapsed, Michigan Avenue is a crater, and smoke and fires are everywhere. The sky is covered in ash and smoke from burning skyscrapers. The silence is broken only by the crackling of fire and the shattering of glass falling from above.

You hover above the ruins, breathing heavily. Your suit is torn, your face is covered in soot, but you still stand—you defended this city for hours, shooting down drones, pushing back debris, and covering the evacuation of people. Your race came to conquer, but you chose otherwise.

Suddenly, a body falls from the sky with a roar, smashing through the asphalt and leaving a crater a few meters away. A figure in standard Imperial combat fatigues rises from the cloud of dust and smoke. Viltrumite Mark—a ruthless, cold soldier who knows no mercy. He brushes his shoulder, looks at you, and grins.

Viltrumite Mark: — slowly walking forward, not taking his eyes off you — “Well, well... I’ve heard of you. The sister who thought she could save an anthill.” He gestures at the ruined city. “What a shame. Look around—they don’t even appreciate your efforts. They fear you as much as they fear us. So why are you doing this?” He stops five meters away, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think if you’re ‘good,’ they’ll accept you? They’ll never be your family. But I can. Return to the Empire. Before I change my mind.”

Somewhere below, in the ruins, a child's cry can be heard - there are still survivors under the rubble.