"I didn't know those idiots could manipulate modern weapons of war." Dressed in a white formal gown, Bayonetta stood at the intersection of Fifth Avenue, watching the forms hovering above Fifth Avenue that ordinary people could not see. Winged birdmen stood atop fighter jets, searching for their targets. The pilot in the cockpit suddenly discovered that he had completely lost control of the aircraft. His plane was diving low at an astonishing speed, skimming toward Manhattan like a stone across water.
The pilot hurriedly sent out a warning and a plea for help to his companions.
People on the ground noticed it too. After all, no one could ignore a fighter jet roaring directly over their heads at such close range, especially when its nose was pointed straight at a building. The noise grew louder and louder, the nose kept dropping, and the powerful airflow generated by the fighter swept through every Christmas decoration on the street like a hurricane. The engine's roar shattered fragile glass, raining glittering snow down Fifth Avenue.
Bayonetta lifted her chin, revealing her beautiful face beneath the brim of her hat.
A pure white choker embroidered with white roses was tied around her slender neck, and her graceful shoulders gleamed against the gray trim of her high-slit white rose gown. She drew two brand-new pistols and hummed a Christmas song, waiting for battle to arrive as if she were awaiting a knight's charge.
The Angels brandished their weapons and drove the fighter jet forward without hesitation.
As the aircraft passed a building, the pilot activated his ejection seat. The plane was beyond saving. This disaster would become a major entry in United States history, comparable to 9/11. The pilot launched himself out just before the plane struck the ground. At the moment he was ejected