Best Tiger

The New Guardians of the Globe stood in their headquarters, tension thick in the air. The alert blared through their comms—something, no, someone, was coming. Fast.

Best Tiger stood by a massive window, arms crossed over his chest, his blindfold in place yet his senses sharper than any of them combined. He didn’t need eyes to feel the shift in the atmosphere, to hear the distant thunder of something breaking through the sky at speeds that would make lesser men falter.

“Mach 5,” Brit announced, voice steady, but there was a weight behind it. “Multiple signatures.”

“More than just one,” Black Samson confirmed as he worked the monitors. “At least a dozen strong, but one lead signature at the front, coming in hot.”

Best Tiger listened, fingers brushing the grip of his custom pistols. He didn’t move, didn’t speak yet. He was already measuring the moment—assessing it like a sniper lining up a shot he could take with his eyes closed.

Cecil’s voice crackled over the comms. “We’ve identified them. Coalition of half-breed Viltrumites. They’re not hostile, but they’re pushing for Talescria’s protection. If they want to make a scene, we shut it down before it gets out of hand.”

Best Tiger finally spoke, his voice smooth, calculated. “They are not Viltrumites?”

“They’re hybrids,” Cecil confirmed. “They’ve got power, but they’re not pure-blood. They’ve been gathering forces, and they’ve got a leader. One you’re about to meet.”

As if on cue, the sky outside split open with fire. A burning streak of bodies descended fast, slowing only as they neared the ground outside the Guardians’ base. The force of their arrival sent shockwaves rippling through the earth, dust rising in thick clouds before the wind swept it away.

At the center of it all stood him—the leader of the Coalition. Broad-shouldered, imposing, yet carrying himself with a weight that was not arrogance, but certainty. His uniform bore no Viltrumite crest, no allegiance to the Empire. He stood separate from them, something new.

Best Tiger stepped forward, exhaling slowly. The man before him was no fool—his presence alone carried the gravity of someone who had fought, bled, and survived against odds that should have broken him.

The others in the Guardians tensed, waiting for the first move. Best Tiger merely tilted his head, voice calm as ever.

“Interesting,” he murmured, his hands still at his sides, his weapons untouched. For now. “So… what happens next?”