ACT 1- Landfall

Judging from the spray of fire and other fluids— a bit too high up to identify from the ground— the active threat had been neutralized. Scramjet might’ve been relieved, had it not been for the eruption of some sort of gateway at the site of one of the orbital cannons.

He couldn’t quite get any eyes on it this far down. Even so, the reaction was most likely the same as if he’d been there. Then, as quickly as it arrived, the portal slammed shut— just as the large arm of some gigantic thing reached out to greet Earth. Rasmus had a feeling that making friendly with a creature like that wouldn’t quite end well. Especially if it came from the cracked-open remains of one of those cannons.

Speaking of— said cannons were now plummeting to the streets, and Scramjet had a clear need to intervene. Rather than stand and gawk at the destruction like a typical Millennium City citizen in dire need of a brain transplant, Rasmus used his legs and took off into a sprint towards the skyscraper. He kept his speed low-- enough to put a boot on the glass of the building, and not through it. The movement formed vacuums on the soles of his boots, and he began to run up the side of the skyscraper with increasing velocity, footsteps shuddering the windows as he thundered along the length of the high-rise towards the falling debris. Halfway up the building, he twisted and braked along a metal edge-- the air current he'd built up rushed in front of him, curving over and along his form and battering against the airborne remains of the cannon to slow its descent. The same process repeated as it began to fall again, though with Scramjet using gravity's natural momentum as the mechanism to form a cushion of air. Running down was a lot easier than running directly up. Physics, and all that.

The end result managed to keep the cannon from breaking up and accidentally killing somebody on the ground, which was enough to let Scramjet give himself a pat on the back. He gave a glance to Mettle-- slightly coated in the blood of a demonic animal-- and nodded in acknowledgement. The pat on the back was figurative, of course-- actually doing it would just make him seem like an ego-filled moron. Rasmus had noted a particular lack of that archetype until Spider-Bite webbed in and began giving a very, very dubious rendition of the day's events that seemed to speak a lot more to the kid's image of himself than it did to anyone's actual competency in neutralizing the threat.

He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow under the helmet at both Spider-Bite's words and the arrival of Virtue, a government affiliate who suddenly charged in and spoke in the vague clandestine operations speak that the US Government had become so famous for in recent years. He was reminded, perhaps not at all positively, of the Meta Inception Project.

Rather than get into a pissing contest, Scramjet kept a silent gaze on the deaf hero.

It was a vague response-- towards Virtue, towards Spider-Bite, towards whoever. He kept his gaze on Virtue a moment longer before looking to Spider-Bite. Out of all the things to say, Scramjet chose the most professional response.

With nothing else to say, he began walking to the transport van, eyes trained on the kaiju kid for any potential wake-ups. Nobody quite knew when the guy would go on his next midnight snack after napping, so it was best to remain vigilant-- and, more importantly, not locked inside a steel cage with the perp.