Northern Africa
Night had barely settled over the city.
Streetlights flickered weakly over crowded roads lined with old concrete buildings, market stalls, and rusted vehicles.
Then—
glass shattered.
A scream echoed.
A small convenience store exploded inward as masked men stormed inside.
"Take everything!"
"Move!"
Gunfire erupted.
Civilians dropped to the ground, covering their heads.
Outside, chaos spread like wildfire.
Cars were hijacked.
Shops looted.
People dragged from their homes.
The streets turned violent almost instantly.
Not because crime had suddenly appeared—
but because fear had been legitimized.
The World Government's announcement had triggered something dangerous.
A narrative.
A belief.
That unstable times were coming.
That governments would tighten control.
That law enforcement would be overwhelmed.
And when people believe order is collapsing—
the worst parts of society come crawling out.
Fast.
Very fast.
A mother clutched her child while running through a narrow alley.
Behind them, footsteps.
Three armed men.
Laughing.
Closing in.
"Please!" she cried.
No one answered.
BOOM.
A shockwave tore through the alley.
The concrete wall beside them exploded outward.
Dust erupted.
One of the men was thrown violently into a dumpster.
Another slammed face-first into brick.
The third froze.
A figure landed between them.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Dark skin.
A crimson cape flowing behind him.
Golden armor lined across his forearms and chest.
The local hero known as Lion Saint.
His eyes were calm.
But furious.
"You chose the wrong night."
The criminal fired.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Bullets struck Lion Saint's chest—
and flattened harmlessly.
The man's face drained of color.
"Oh."
Lion Saint grabbed him by the collar.
Lifted him effortlessly.
"You thought the heroes would be busy?"
he slammed him into the pavement.
CRACK.
The street fractured beneath the impact.
The other two tried to run.
Too late.
Lion Saint moved.
A blur.
One punch.
A body flew through a parked vehicle.
A kick.
Another slammed into a metal pole hard enough to bend it.
Silence returned.
Heavy breathing.
Dust.
Broken glass.
The mother stared at him with trembling eyes.
Lion Saint turned toward her.
"Take your child home."
His voice was firm.
"Stay indoors. Lock everything."
She nodded rapidly.
"Thank you—thank you—"
But Lion Saint was already gone.
Leaping rooftop to rooftop.
Because across the city—
there were more screams.
Too many.
West Africa – Emergency Hero Coordination Center
Monitors flooded the room.
Reports came in one after another.
Looting.
Armed riots.
Power grid sabotage.
Kidnappings.
Assaults.
Civilian unrest.
A woman in tactical armor slammed her hand against a holographic table.
"This isn't coincidence."
Her name was Amina.
Ranked among the region's strongest heroes.
"This was coordinated."
Another official frowned.
"You think criminal organizations are capitalizing on the announcement?"
"No."
Amina crossed her arms.
Her expression dark.
"I think someone wanted exactly this."
Silence followed.
Everyone understood what she meant.
Instability.
Fear.
Desperation.
Perfect conditions for intervention.
Perfect conditions for dependency.
A younger officer swallowed hard.
"You think the World Government anticipated this?"
Amina stared at the growing red alerts across the map.
"No."
A pause.
"I think they counted on it."
Elsewhere — The Unaffiliated Nations Respond
Not every country belonged to the World Government.
Some refused.
Some resisted.
Some simply understood the price of membership.
And after Redmont—
those nations immediately began preparing.
Because the message hidden behind the broadcast was obvious.
Join willingly.
Or be pressured until you do.
Asia
Japan
Tokyo.
Inside a secure defense chamber, military officials and national heroes watched the World Government broadcast replay on a massive screen.
A gray-haired official folded his hands.
"They're expanding emergency alliance clauses."
A younger advisor nodded.
"Which means military access rights."
A hero seated nearby scoffed.
"So that's the real play."
Japan had refused full World Government integration for one reason:
Control.
Hero systems here were privately regulated, nationally protected, and deeply tied to domestic defense and economics.
Joining meant surrendering oversight.
Resources.
Autonomy.
One official spoke firmly:
"We cannot allow foreign hero deployment inside our borders."
Another added:
"Nor taxation restructuring."
A silence followed.
Then the Prime Minister stood.
"Mobilize coastal defense units."
"And increase cyber-monitoring."
A pause.
"We remain neutral."
He narrowed his eyes.
"For now."
South Korea
Seoul.
Emergency parliamentary session.
Arguments filled the chamber.
A woman slammed a file onto the table.
"They're weaponizing fear."
South Korea's resistance had always been economic.
Their hero-tech sector was one of the largest independent industries in Asia.
Joining the World Government meant forced standardization.
Data sharing.
Patent surrender.
Too costly.
Too invasive.
A defense minister adjusted his glasses.
"If they succeed in global unification, our leverage disappears."
Another replied:
"So we strengthen regional alliances."
Military cooperation proposals were immediately drafted.
Contingency plans activated.
A quiet arms race had begun.
India
New Delhi.
A council of ministers sat in tense silence.
India's refusal had always been simpler:
Sovereignty.
Too large.
Too influential.
Too independent.
No foreign centralized authority would dictate hero regulation over a nation of this scale.
A senior strategist stared at a projection map.
"If the World Government succeeds…"
He paused.
"…we become isolated."
A minister replied:
"Then we cannot allow them to succeed."
Hero deployment authority was expanded overnight.
Border security intensified.
Internal intelligence divisions doubled.
The game had changed.
Europe
Switzerland
Geneva.
Neutral territory.
Still.
Officially.
A council convened beneath dim lighting.
Switzerland had resisted membership due to financial autonomy and neutrality clauses.
World Government membership demanded financial transparency reforms and strategic military cooperation.
Both unacceptable.
A woman in a dark suit reviewed incoming intelligence.
"Capital movement suggests market manipulation."
Another nodded.
"They're pressuring economically before politically."
A banker frowned.
"As expected."
Switzerland responded the only way it knew how:
Financial insulation.
Asset lockdowns.
Emergency economic defense measures.
Cold war tactics.
Not bullets.
Money.
Norway
Oslo.
Snow fell outside government headquarters.
Inside, leaders discussed resource vulnerability.
Norway's refusal centered on energy independence.
Its strategic reserves and control over critical energy exports made World Government integration risky.
Too much leverage would be lost.
A minister studied reports.
"They'll frame non-members as unstable."
Another answered:
"Then we appear stronger."
Domestic hero patrols increased.
Public confidence campaigns launched.
National messaging became clear:
We do not need external protection.
Middle East
Saudi Arabia
Riyadh.
A private royal security chamber.
Screens glowed.
Advisors stood silently.
Saudi Arabia had refused for a mixture of power preservation and strategic independence.
Oil.
Regional influence.
Military autonomy.
Too much at stake.
A royal advisor pointed at a projected analysis.
"If they unify global hero registration…"
He looked up.
"…they can monitor every enhanced individual on the planet."
That was unacceptable.
A prince leaned back.
"They seek power under the guise of order."
He stood.
"Strengthen internal alliances."
"Begin private negotiations with other unaffiliated nations."
A pause.
"And accelerate enhanced weapons research."
The room stiffened.
No one objected.