Time skip to September 11, 2001, 8:40 am
[Main POV]
For the third time in my monologues, I was on the roof of a building in New York. However, this time, I wasn't perched atop my cherished New York Sunscraper; instead, I stood upon the iconic edifice that was the World Trade Center.
A symbol of American supremacy, the World Trade Center, though slightly dwarfed by my New York Sunscraper, adorned the Lower Manhattan skyline with its grandeur. These Twin Towers, a marvel of contemporary engineering, had been meticulously crafted to brave the harshest winds and the most formidable forces nature could muster. Constructed with ingenious steel frameworks and cutting-edge techniques, they stood as a testament to the nation's technological prowess and unwavering commitment to progressive architectural ideals. More than mere architectural marvels, the stability of the World Trade Center was intended to mirror the nation's resilience and unyielding spirit.
But beyond its engineering magnificence, the World Trade Center bore the weight of deeper significance. It stood as the embodiment of America's economic might, a monumental centerpiece within an ambitious urban renewal endeavor aimed at revitalizing Lower Manhattan in the 70s. These Twin Towers were a living symbol of American capitalism and the nation's tireless march towards progress.
The World Trade Center was home to numerous businesses and organizations engaged in international trade and finance. Billions flowed through it. This concentration of global businesses showcased the United States' role as a global trade hub and underscored New York City's status as a financial center.
I was now standing on the North Tower, enjoying the view, knowing that I wouldn't be able to in the near future. Yes, I remembered 9/11.
In the minutes to come, a Boeing 767 would brutally collide with the North Tower, unleashing a devastating inferno and cascades of debris onto the unsuspecting streets below.
Though not physically present to witness the tragedy, I vicariously experienced the heart-wrenching devastation and the insatiable thirst for retribution that surged through every American as they watched videos of the catastrophe. This modern Pearl Harbor had the power to rally even the most apathetic souls to stand united for their nation.
But I wasn't here to stop it. Even if I did, there would simply be another.
In 1993, the World Trade Center was bombed. A truck bomb was detonated in the garage, killing six, and injuring over a thousand. The intended goal of collapsing the towers was not achieved.
So, if I did stop 9/11, then there would simply be another. One that I wouldn't be able to plan for as meticulously as I did for this one. I was here in New York. Artemis was near the Pentagon. Olivia and Emily (who I had made immortal, along with other followers before their 25th birthday) had a meeting with Chief Economist and Secretary of Energy at the White House.
Apollo Enterprise Security Forces and Artemis Enterprise Disaster Relief Forces stood ready, having amassed first aid kits, water, blankets, and other essential supplies over weeks of preparation.
I also pulled the fire alarm in the World Trade Center. This ensured that as many people were out of the building before the plane hit. Hopefully that would save at least a couple hundred lives.
We were ready.
So where was the plane?
I pulled out my phone and checked the time. 8:47 am. The plane was ten minutes late.
I looked down to see some people in suits going back inside the building. It made sense to them. Every minute they spent outside could mean millions lost.
8:48 am. Where was that plane?
I was just about to use my powers over the sun when I saw it. A plane to the north, heading south towards Manhattan. Finally.
I chuckled. I couldn't believe I felt a slight sense of relief.
Refocusing my attention on the plane, my eyes narrowed. It was quite low, and I expected it to fly higher. Was the 'pilot' just that bad at flying?
Yet, in the midst of this observation, my vision suddenly turned white as illusions flashed in my mind.
I was in a hole. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell. It was dry, tight, sandy, and hot. Shouts and gunshots were heard as I crawled over burnt corpses. The stench of burnt flesh seared into my mind.
Then, I found myself in the austere setting of a congressional committee, a particularly ugly senator confronting me with the question, "Do you have any remorse for the lives you took?" Fellow senators, both Republicans and Democrats, wore expressions of displeasure.
Then, I was on an island with Artemis. It was small, maybe 600 square feet. I felt exhausted as a tropical storm roared all around us. We held hands in solidarity as we prepared for a fight.
Then, I was back. I paused, wondering what my visions were telling me.
I memorized the faces of the senators. They were going on my shit list.
My third vision was the most concerning. The typhoon that raged around us felt abnormal, and even magical. But it wasn't from Artemis or myself, so what could it be?
My first vision was easier to decipher. It reminded me of fighting in Syria, back in my first life. But I couldn't see myself going to Syria anytime soon.
Maybe it wasn't Syria. It could be…
Oh no.
Reminded of the reason I was here, I looked northwards and saw a large movement take place. The plane took a sharp dive. My expression froze before I yelled, "SHIT!"
I jumped off the World Trade Center and flew northwards as fast as I could fly.
While I was fast, I knew it was too late. My vision would cost me. The split second of confusion and horror didn't help. Considering my speed and the distance between the Boeing 767 and its target, I didn't have the space to catch the plane like Superman.
I would if the target was the World Trade Center.
But the World Trade Center wasn't the target.
The target was my Sunscraper.
.
.
.
AN: The (final?) arc begins!
Drop some Power Stones, please and thank you!
If you're wondering how this could happen, it's (overconfidence + vision + competent enemy with 10 years to prepare).