New York's first snow came later than usual. Colorful gift boxes filled the shop windows. Only when Christmas carols echoed through the streets did this holy lady of winter drift gracefully down between the skyscrapers. The snowflakes spinning in the breeze beneath the eaves were like the hem of her white dress.
The crowds remained hurried. In Times Square, people wore long, heavy overcoats, scarves wrapped around their necks layer after layer, carrying lead-gray briefcases or leather bags, wool hats on their heads as they passed the gleaming display windows. Those standing at the curb beneath the traffic lights had the flashing colors of giant advertising screens reflected on their faces, their mouths turned downward. The moment the signal changed, they hurried through the streets and alleys, their steps as resolute as though they truly knew where they were going.
For ordinary people, this winter was nothing special. They were still striving to finish the year's final work, hoping to leave early before Christmas. The lights of the big cities gradually retreated, while more and more fashionable trendsetters appeared in remote little towns. No matter where they were, sardines could never regard the cans on a factory conveyor belt as their true home. They longed for the ocean. However timid they might feel when nearing home, they would return in the end.
But for the superheroes, this would be an incredibly busy winter. They were occupied cleaning up the aftermath, repairing everything that had been smashed, and getting the house in order before Christmas so they could have a lively holiday.
As the center of the Multiverse war's battlefield, the Central Universe had suffered far more damage than expected. Dimensions had shattered, Nightmare Power had made a mess of everything, Asgard was in ruins, and countless things had been broken.