Alexia lounged on the sofa, sinking into the cushions, her legs curled under her as she held a sleek tablet in her lap. Dressed in comfy shorts and an oversized t-shirt, she sighed, annoyed by the unexpected lockdown.

“Clayton said the house has settings for everything,” she muttered, scrolling through the options on the tablet. “Let’s see what this ‘home turret’ thing is all about.”

Her finger hovered over the screen until she found the option. “Okay, setting the home turret to Code Red.”

As soon as she tapped it, the entire living room seemed to transform. The wall where her TV was mounted split open with a mechanical hiss, revealing three large screens that flanked the main TV. The robotic sounds of the turrets outside hummed to life, their gears clicking into place as they readied themselves.

"Code Red is activated," announced the cold, robotic voice echoing throughout the house.

Alexia’s eyes widened in awe. “Oh, damn. That’s actually really cool. What else can this thing do?”

She quickly found the settings for the windows and doors. “Windows and doors... Code Red.”

Without hesitation, steel plates descended over every window in the house, each one making a satisfying clunk as it locked into place. The house felt more like a fortress now.

She was in awe, but after that nothing else happened. She glanced at the time—8 o’clock in the evening. “What the hell is even happening right now?” she muttered, her curiosity piqued.

Grabbing the remote, she flicked through the TV channels. To her surprise, most were still airing their usual shows, as if nothing was amiss. Game shows, sitcoms, dramas—everything seemed completely normal.

“Seriously?” she grumbled, flipping through until she finally landed on a news program.

"Alright," she said to herself, settling in. “Let’s see if they actually explain what’s going on.”

The newsroom's lights blazed against the sterile backdrop of the studio, casting shadows across the polished surface of the table. On one side sat Henry O'Hare, the sharp-tongued host of The National Pulse, his suit crisp, and his smile charismatic, though his eyes were laced with skepticism. Opposite him, in the guest chair, sat Jade Tempest, one of the world’s most respected superheroes, her armor-suit dark blue with lightning bolts streaking down her arms, her expression calm but focused.

A screen behind them flashed images of the small fiery pits that had suddenly appeared across the nation, some smoldering, some quiet, but all too similar to the colossal pit that had opened in the ocean two days prior. The nation was in lockdown, and panic buzzed beneath the surface of everyday life.

Henry leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Tempest, you’re one of the foremost defenders of this nation. Surely, you must see that a nationwide lockdown—an indefinite one at that—is a bit much? No one’s even seen anything crawl out of those small pits. So, why are we shutting down the entire economy?”

Tempest held his gaze steadily. “Because, Henry, those small pits aren’t as innocent as they seem. They’re connected to the giant one that appeared two days ago in the ocean. We have every reason to believe that, just like the massive pit, monsters will emerge from these smaller ones.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with an air of disbelief. “But there’s been no movement. No seismic activity, no signs of creatures. Why cripple businesses, why halt everything when nothing’s happened yet? You’re superheroes. Isn’t it your job to take care of any threats that arise? Just like you did with the colossal pit. Shouldn’t the people be free to continue living their lives?”

Tempest’s eyes flashed, though she kept her voice even. “We did take care of the giant pit, yes. But do you know why we succeeded, Henry? We managed to kill the giant monsters before they could fully emerge. Those things are gigantic. If they had come out completely, it would’ve been a bloodbath. The small pits are spread across the entire nation—dozens, maybe hundreds. We can’t respond the same way we did with one massive pit. The stakes are far higher.”

Henry interlaced his fingers, nodding slightly but clearly unconvinced. “So, what? Lock everyone in their homes and just… wait? For how long, Tempest? People need to work, need to make a living. We can’t shut down indefinitely because of something that might happen. The small pits are dormant.”

“They’re dormant for now,” Tempest stressed. “This is a preemptive measure. Think about it: the ocean pit was just the beginning. These smaller ones are popping up everywhere, and they’re identical. We can’t afford to wait until monsters are crawling out of every pit before we act. If we don’t lock down, we’ll be scrambling—reacting instead of preparing.”

Henry leaned forward again, his tone sharpening. “But doesn’t that show a lack of faith in your fellow heroes? You’re all capable, aren’t you? Surely you’re fast enough, strong enough to deal with whatever comes out of these pits. The country’s relying on you. If you’re scared, what kind of message does that send?”

Tempest’s jaw clenched for a moment, but her voice remained calm. “This isn’t about fear, Henry. This is about responsibility. Yes, we’re powerful, but we’re not omnipresent. You think we can be everywhere at once? This isn’t one central threat like the ocean pit—it’s dozens of scattered ones. You think we can deal with simultaneous outbreaks if they happen? By the time we arrive at one site, another could be overrun.”

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“So, your solution is to shut down the country until further notice? There has to be a middle ground here.” Henry’s voice softened a fraction, as if trying to coax a more reasonable answer from her.

“The middle ground is the lockdown,” Tempest countered. “It’s temporary. Once we figure out what’s going on with these pits—once we’re sure that the threat’s passed—we’ll lift it. But right now, the safest course of action is to prevent movement, keep people out of harm’s way, and avoid potential chaos. The alternative is we end up chasing monsters through the streets, and by then it’ll be too late.”

Henry sighed, looking exasperated. “But the lockdown itself is creating its own chaos. Small businesses are suffering, families are stressed, people can’t go about their daily lives. Is that really the price we should be paying for something that hasn’t even happened?”

Tempest’s expression hardened. “Would you rather pay with lives? I get it, Henry. It’s easy to sit here in the safety of this studio and debate economic impact. But out there, people could be incinerated, crushed, or worse if these pits become active. I don’t want to gamble with the safety of the nation just because you’re worried about profit margins.”

There was a brief, tense silence. The camera panned between them as the debate reached a boiling point. Finally, Henry spoke again, his tone more measured.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t be cautious, Tempest. But locking down the nation indefinitely is extreme. There must be better ways to handle this without bringing the economy to a screeching halt.”

Tempest sighed, though her voice remained firm. “I understand where you’re coming from, Henry. But trust me, this isn’t just about caution—it’s about survival. We’ve never seen anything like this before, and we’re dealing with the unknown. Until we know more, we can’t take unnecessary risks. We’ll monitor the pits, and once we’re sure they pose no threat, the lockdown will end. But until then, safety has to come first.”

Henry sat back, folding his arms. “I suppose time will tell if you’re right, or if this whole lockdown ends up being overkill.”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Tempest said quietly. “But I’m not willing to bet lives on it.”

Alexia was slightly annoyed by the host,

“It’s only been a few hours and that sucker is already worried about money!”

Hearing Tempest, Alexia shared the belief that life was more important than money. “I am such a hypocrite,” Alexia whispered to herself.

The debate still raged on the screen, but Alexia’s focus waned. Her eyelids drooped, and despite her best efforts, she could feel herself slipping. The words from the news host and superhero blurred into background noise, her body surrendering to exhaustion, it demanded the rest that it needed. The roar of the planet was ignored and finally, the debate became a lullaby, and she drifted off, finding solace in the hum of voices she no longer understood.

Hours later, at two in the morning, the peace was violently interrupted. Alexia was jolted awake by the sharp, metallic sounds of the turrets outside her home firing nonstop. Bullets cut through the night, shattering the stillness. She shot upright, heart pounding in her chest as the world suddenly roared back into her consciousness.

Her senses sharpened immediately as she focused on the three big screens surrounding her TV—flashing images of something that didn’t belong. Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled closer to the screens, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

“What even is that?" she muttered, squinting at the creatures on the screen. Their massive frames, hunched backs, and primitive weapons resembled something out of a medieval fantasy.

"An ogre? No, a bunch of ogres. What is this? A fantasy world?"

She watched in disbelief as the ogres, massive and towering, charged at her home’s perimeter. The turrets showed no mercy, tearing through their thick hides, mowing them down effortlessly. Despite their size and strength, the creatures had no chance against the relentless barrage of modern weaponry.

With a half-laugh, half-sigh, Alexia shook her head. "That superhero was right after all." She stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth as she continued watching, entertained by the scene unfolding on the screens.

The turrets continued their work, obliterating wave after wave of the grotesque creatures. Alexia couldn’t help but chuckle between bites of her snacks, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. "Modern weaponry versus fantasy axes? Hardly a fair fight."

She sat back down, eyes glued to the screen, the adrenaline of the moment fading into amusement. "Let’s see if anyone’s covering this," she muttered to herself, grabbing the remote to flip through the TV channels.

Alexia’s amusement quickly turned to horror as she stumbled across an international news channel. The scene was a nightmare—ogres rampaging through city streets, tearing through buildings, cars, and civilians alike. The camera shook violently as the host, a panicked man, was seen running alongside his crew, the chaotic footage barely capturing the devastation unfolding around them.

It was in a language she didn’t understand, but the terror was universal. The fear in the host’s voice was unmistakable as they hurriedly tried to flee the destruction. She could only guess at his words, but the screams and destruction told her everything she needed to know.

“So, it’s everywhere… not just in this country,” she whispered, her earlier grin now wiped clean off her face. She flicked through more channels, her heart sinking further as the pattern repeated. Chaos. Destruction. In some countries, the military seemed to have a better handle on it, but no one was safe.

She paused, anxiety tightening her chest. "Let’s go back to that channel," she muttered to herself. "Let’s see what that fucker has to say about this"

Sure enough, there he was. Henry, the smug news host who had dismissed the superhero’s warnings earlier, sat at his desk looking considerably less confident than before. His eyes flickered nervously, but still, there was that signature arrogance lingering beneath the surface.

The broadcast began with a forced, half-hearted apology, his voice stiff as if he was being coerced.

“Well, folks… it appears… I may have underestimated the severity of the situation. For that, I apologize to our viewers. The lockdown measures… well, maybe they weren’t as unnecessary as I previously stated.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly unprepared to fully admit how wrong he had been. But then, the apology gave way to something else—a deflection, a rant.

“But let me tell you, the real issue here isn’t just these pits or even the monsters coming out of them. No, no, the real problem is that our so-called heroes—the ones we’re supposed to trust—have utterly failed us. They had one job: to stop whoever summoned these pits. And they couldn’t even do that! Think about it. If they had dealt with the mastermind behind this, none of this would’ve happened in the first place.”

He leaned forward, the glint of conspiracy flashing in his eyes.

“Ask yourselves this—how is it that the superheroes failed to stop something so massive? Are they really that incompetent? Or could there be something more going on here? Maybe they don’t want to stop it. Maybe they need this chaos to keep themselves relevant, to keep their funding coming in, to keep the public scared and dependent on them.”

Henry was in full swing now, ranting with a fervor that erased the brief moment of apology.

“And who’s to say they aren’t in on it? What if some of these heroes are behind the pits themselves? Creating a problem only they can solve? You can’t trust these people. That’s the real story here, folks. Not the monsters. It’s the ones who failed to stop them!”

Alexia turned off the TV, her hands trembling. "This idiot's going to get people killed," she whispered to herself. The world was burning, and all Henry could do was stir the flames higher.

Suddenly, her phone rang, breaking the heavy silence. She grabbed it instinctively, her heart already thumping in her chest.

"Alex! Alex! Are you there?!" Clayton’s voice exploded from the other end, frantic and breathless. “Are you alright? We need to do something! We’ve got to do something, Alex!”

She blinked, trying to process the panic in his voice. "Clayton? What’s going on? I’m fine, calm down. Where are you? Are you okay?"

“I’m in the bunker, downtown. I’m fine, but that’s not the point! It’s Sarah—she’s trapped!”

Her stomach dropped. "Trapped? Where? The office?”

“I wish! God, I wish it was just that! No! She’s in the subway, Alex! She can’t get out! The defense system failed, the monsters, they’ve closed in. There’s no way out, and the tunnels are collapsing. She’s trapped down there!”

The weight of his words hit her like a punch. “In the subway?! But… how—" She paused, trying to keep calm, to focus. "Clayton, listen. I don’t have powers, alright? You’ve got to call the superheroes.”

“I tried, but they are too busy, overwhelmed” His voice cracked, desperation seeping through every word. “Alex, please. I know you have powers. The statues in your office—they didn’t move on their own!, I know you did it! Please, don’t pretend now. You’re the only one who can save her, Alex!”