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Chapter Text

“We won.”

Steve breathed out a sigh of relief, shedding the tension of an excruciatingly long day. When he’d first woken up in this strange future – in between the moments he had spent in denial and later, mourning – he had imagined flying cars, the cure for all illnesses and, of course, the end of the war. No more fighting.

Instead there’d been aliens, portals to other worlds and a fight far more bizarre than anything Steve could have imagined.

And now Loki was beaten, the portal closed and Tony was alive. The battle was won. He let the tension bleed out of him, allowing the post-battle euphoria to drown out the pain and fatigue dragging at his body. They all deserved some rest, after what they’d just been through.

That was, of course, when Tony jolted forward with a gasp, eyes incredibly wide and muscles tense enough to snap. At once Steve was at his side, Thor not far behind.

“Tony! Tony, what’s wrong?!”

Tony didn’t answer and continued to gasp for air. His eyes twitched around aimlessly, not focusing on either of them. Was he having a seizure?

Steve should have checked him over earlier. He’d fallen from the sky, of course he wasn’t alright.

“Tony,” Thor said, “Speak to us.”

Steve kept his hand on Tony’s shoulder as he slowly calmed down. His eyes flickered to Thor, over to Hulk – looming over them to watch – and finally to Steve.

Tony’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing without a word coming out. Steve was slightly disturbed at seeing him speechless. Tony always had something to say, whether it was socially appropriate or not. Steve leaned closer, anticipation growing as Tony struggled to speak, trying to form a sentence, trying to tell them–

“Where the fuck is your beard?”

… What?

Steve shared a glance with Clint, who shrugged. He had to have misheard. “What was that?”

But Tony had already directed his attention to Thor. He reached out to… touch his hair? What was he doing? Thor let it happen with a bemused glance. “s’nice, you should keep it like this.” Tony’s head turn upwards. “Hulk. Buddy. Pal. Nice to see you.”

The slur in his voice didn’t make Steve feel better. He leaned closer to Clint. “A concussion, maybe?”

“He fell out of the sky,” Clint gave back. “Maybe Hulk wasn't as gentle as he should have been. No offense, big guy,” he hurriedly added as Hulk gave a warning growl.

“You do not look well, my friend.” Thor’s concern shimmered through his kind smile. “We shall bring you to a healer and celebrate our victory to our hearts’ content!”

“How’d you grow it so fast?” Tony asked, for some reason unwilling to let the topic of Thor’s hairdo go. What was it with him and his sudden obsession with hair? “Wait, no. You said– Oh.”

Steve blinked in surprise as all of the emotion on Tony’s face – confusion, mostly – shut down in the blink of an eye.

“Tony? Look, we should bring you to the tower and–”

“Right. The tower. That means…” Tony muttered something under his breath, and Steve was just about to offer him a hand when he heaved himself up in his barely functional suit.

Steve wasn’t surprised when Tony’s steps turned out awkward and bulky – the suit had gone through an hours long battle, a trip to space and a free fall out of the sky. For some reason however, Tony was.

“Jesus Christ , how much does this thing weight?!” He scowled down at it like it had personally offended his family.

“Don’t worry,” Steve said, going for a reassuring tone. “I’m sure you can fix it later.”

“Like hell I will. This thing isn’t worth the scrap metal it’s made of.”

“Tony,” Clint chimed in, his voice carefully neutral. “Are you alright?” From the many things Tony was proud of, his suits had to be at the very top of the list. And now they were “scrap metal”?

“Sure. Never been better.” Tony proceeded to peel himself out of his armor with an energy Steve couldn’t explain. He’d nearly died only minutes ago. Steve was starting to get genuinely worried at how off Tony sounded.

“Where are we going?” Thor asked, falling into step with Tony as he made his way through the rubble that was left of the attack. The hand that wasn’t holding Mjolnir hovered close to Tony in fake casualness, ready to catch him, should he fall.

Tony’s answer – amazingly– gave them no explanation whatsoever. “You know, places to be, things to do. Try to keep up.”

They let the matter drop as soon as it got clear that they were heading towards the tower. Whatever was wrong with Tony, they’d be best equipped to help him there, rather than in the middle of the battlefield.

And they would help him. They wouldn’t stop being a team, now that the threat was beaten.

Somewhere along the way, Hulk shrunk back into Bruce. “Erm. What did I miss?”

Tony’s behavior didn’t make any more sense once they’d reached the tower. Steve was momentarily distracted by a voice greeting them from the ceiling, but instead of making fun of him for his reaction, like he almost expected him to do, Tony looked just as taken aback.

“Good afternoon, Sir.” Both Steve and Tony flinched, and Bruce looked up to look for the source of the voice. “The assailant remains on the top floor of Stark Tower. He has not moved since Dr. Banner forcibly impressed him into the concrete.”

“Right,” Bruce said, visibly uncomfortable at the reminder of his alter ego. He fidgeted, trying to disappear in the too big, worn-down clothes they had managed to pick up on their way. “That’s… Alright.”

“Tony?” Steve asked when no explanation followed.

“... Yeah. Right. That’s JARVIS.” Tony’s voice was oddly subdued, almost hoarse. “He’s an AI. Artificial Intelligence. Runs the building, you can ask him anything.”

“It is an utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance, JARVIS,” Thor said, taking the situation in a stride.

“Likewise, Mr. Odinson.” Tony continued to stare blankly ahead, and before Steve could say anything, JARVIS added: “Sir, are you well?” If he was a machine like Tony had said, how could he sound so concerned? It was almost like listening to a real person. “I detect an accelerated heartbeat and signs of–”

“I’m fine,” Tony interrupted. “All well. Let’s go see what our maniac is up to.”

Steve shared another glance with the others. Unfortunately, Tony was right. Loki was still a priority, even though he was supposedly beaten.

Except once they reached the top floor of the tower, Tony barely spared Loki a glance. He wasn’t conscious and with the crater he was lying in, it wasn’t difficult to deduce what had happened.

“Wow,” Clint said, shooting Bruce an impressed glance. “You really did a number on him.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said awkwardly, his eyes twitching to Thor. He said nothing, looking at his brother with an indiscernible look on his face.

Natasha was waiting for them, casually holding Loki’s scepter. Tony’s eyes zoomed in on it, grabbing for it with the words, “May I?”

Natasha raised an unimpressed eyebrow, but let go.

“Red suits you, you know? You should keep it.” With that Tony turned, heading the other way with the scepter in hand.

A beat passed.

Clint was the first to regain his bearings. “Where are you going with that?”

“The roof.” Tony didn’t even spare them a glance, and they had no choice but to follow.

“Did he hit his head?” Natasha muttered for only Steve to hear, but he could only shrug in response. They wouldn’t know what was going on with Tony until he told them.

What could he possibly want with the scepter? It was a risk to even just touch it. Even though Loki wasn’t wielding it any longer, they had experienced first hand how dangerous the scepter could be on the Helicarrier. They’d be lucky to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Even so, Tony walked with such purpose that it didn’t even occur to Steve to stop him. Not until he’d reached the tesseract, raised the scepter and somehow managed to activate it. Steve’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening in alarm.

Natasha was quicker in collecting her wits than he was. “Stark! What are you doing?!”

But it was too late. The air hummed intensely enough to make his bones shake. There was something pressing down on them, paralysing them where they stood and a blinding light. Steve narrowed his eyes, trying to get closer but failing. If only he could reach Tony and rip the scepter out of his hands…

“Tony!”

The humming stopped and the air exploded.

Despite the energy wave pushing him back, Steve had somehow managed to stay on his feet. Not everyone had been as lucky. He shook his head to chase away the ringing in his ears, already searching the center of the explosion and… there!

“Tony!” he yelled, falling into a sprint and dropping down next to his fallen teammate. He didn’t see any life-threatening injuries, but Tony was coughing and clutching his arm where splinters had pierced his skin. What had he been thinking?!

“Well,” Tony said with a glance down. “Shit. That wasn’t according to plan.”

“What was your plan?” Steve asked, staring at the scene in front of him incredulously. The tesseract was gone, blown to bits. As was the scepter. And next to Tony, amidst what was left of it, lay a glowing, yellow stone.

Tony followed his glance. “Don’t touch that. I’ll get a new suit to pick it up later. Well, I suppose one out of two is better than none.” That last part was muttered quietly with a glance at the splinters that were left of the tesseract.

“Stark.” It wasn’t more than a whisper, but it made chills run down Steve’s spine. Their attention snapped around, their weapons drawn and ready for a rematch. Loki, injuries forgotten despite his crouched posture, stared at Tony with thinly veiled fury and… was that horror ? “Do you have any idea what you have done?”

“Sure do.” Tony, in contrast to them, seemed to be completely at peace at having the mass murderer glare daggers at him. He gestured towards the remains of the tesseract. “I’m gonna destroy five more of these and kick a titan in the butt. And since I’ve just destroyed what he wanted you to fetch him, you can either take your chances with him or have a change of mind. What will it be?”

There was silence, all of them reeling from the declaration. Then there was chaos as all of them tried to talk at once.

A headache was rapidly building up behind Steve’s eyes, and none of the other occupants of the tower were doing anything helpful to stop it.

There was Tony, as calm as he could get, ignoring the utter chaos that he had left in his wake. Loki, who had somewhat blended into the background and miraculously neither tried to escape, nor started another attempt to murder them. And of course the rest of his teammates, who, in various states of shock, disbelief or stoicism, tried to talk sense into Tony. At once.

“Did you just offer the psychopath who attacked the city only minutes ago a redemption?! Because it sounded like–”

“Tony, wait. What are you even saying? This is Loki we’re talking about.”

“–been under the impression that we had come to an agreement. I was to take Loki and the tesseract home, and now you have destroyed the latter. Tell me, what are your intentions with–”

“–tell us what’s wrong. This concerns all of us, you can’t just–”

“Tony.” Steve raised his voice over the others when Tony strode through the tower like none of them were even there. “Tony, what are you doing?” In his opinion, they’d had to ask this question far too many times.

Although this time, to his surprise, Tony actually answered. If that answer made it better or worse was yet to be determined. “I’m preventing a gigantic purple maniac from destroying the world.”

Stunned silence followed.

“You’re mad,” Loki sneered, a spark of terror left in his voice.

“What?!” Clint stared at him incredulously. “You’re not making any sense! Tony, Loki screwed with your head.”

Loki almost sounded offended at that. “I most certainly did no–”

“Loki,” Thor growled, daring him to keep talking. Loki raised his hands in mock surrender, rolling his eyes.

Steve tightened his grip around his shield. Even though his weapon was destroyed, it didn’t bode well with Steve that Loki was already recovering from his clash with the Hulk. Especially while he wasn’t properly detained.

Clint, meanwhile, wasn’t finished. “Just listen for a second and– What are you doing?”

Tony had picked up a phone, not bothering to answer any of their prior questions. “Making phone calls. I have African royalty and a Sorcerer Supreme to contact, and then there’s  HYDRA bases to dig out and three of their operatives to snatch up while I’m at it. I’m sure I’ll come up with more in a minute. Questions?”

From all the bombs he had just dropped, that last one snapped Steve out of his shock effectively. “HYDRA is gone,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “SHIELD told me so.”

And he had been so quick to believe, hadn’t he? A world without Hydra, new and different but safe , hadn’t it been worth it? Hadn’t it been exactly what he’d wanted to hear, waking up? Steve hadn’t survived the war by being naive.

Like he could read Steve’s mind, Tony’s voice dropped into a softer tone. “I’m sorry, Cap. But they’re not.” Next to them, Natasha and Clint stiffened even as Steve’s jaw clenched shut. “Cut off one head and all that, they’re like cockroaches. But don’t worry. I’ll let you help.”

Clint was having none of it. “Tony, this is crazy–”

“What do you know?” Steve interrupted, making a decision. If there was any chance that Tony was right, any chance at all… They might have had their differences, but Tony wasn’t the type of person to joke about it. Not about this.

Judging by Tony’s expression, he had realized that he’d won.

“Now, where do we even start?”

Chapter Text

In all fairness, Nebula had tried.

She’d woken up alone and disoriented, taking in the hated sight of her quarters on one of their old battle cruisers. Her flawless memory – the result of having her brain ripped out of her skull in favor of a computer – told her that it was the one that had been destroyed in their war against Noerus.

If it could even be called a war. The miserable creatures had been wiped out within days, crushed by the hundreds by Nebula herself.

“Show me the date and our coordinates,” she growled, and numbers were projected from her own body’s recordings. She felt a spark of annoyance as she realized that she had spoken out loud despite not needing to. Idiot humans and their annoying habits. Some must have rubbed off.

Nebula turned her attention to the data and paused. She was further back than she had anticipated, too far for comfort. Grimly, she sifted through her mind’s backlog in search of details.

She had been right about their vessel, one of Thanos’ biggest war ships – but that was not the issue. No, what put her nerves on edge, what made her mind run cold and calculating, was that Nebula was on it. She tried telling herself that this was a good thing – it meant that Thanos had not yet acquired more than one of the infinity stones, and, missing their power, had to rely on old fashioned warfare to realize his goal – but it was almost impossible when it made the joints of her artificial body parts ache, when it made her thoughts recoil.

How could she be expected to stay calm when she was so close to him ?

Nebula was interrupted by a message popping up in her line of sight.

Meet us on the bridge. Your next assignment awaits.

It did not mention its sender, and it did not need to. The hatred burning in Nebula’s gut in a never dimming fire spoke for itself.

Nebula wasn’t stupid. She’d been taught in warfare and strategy by a master of the art, and she had the entire way to the bridge to think of ways to utilize her current predicament to the fullest. As reluctant about their plan as she’d been – wielding the power over time itself, using one of the least predictable of the infinity stones; only Stark could have come up with something ridiculously risky as this – she could not deny the possibilities it had opened up for them.

She was given the chance to play her role as the loyal, broken puppet she had been Before. She could operate under Thanos’ trust, could unravel his power from within, hit him where it hurt the most and sabotage his plans before he could even think of them completely.

In the end, Nebula lasted roughly two seconds. To be exact, she lasted until she laid eyes on Thanos for the first time and felt something inside of her snap.

“Daughter,” her miserable excuse of a father started. “Your sister is set to return shortly. Take Proxima and–”

The rest of his sentence was lost as Nebula’s fist collided with his face. “DIE, VERMIN!”

The entire bridge watched in mute horror as their lord – their father – was thrown off of his seat by the attack of one of his own children. By one of their own.

Thanos did not fault them for their inaction. He himself was too stunned to react.

“I WILL PEEL THE SKIN OFF OF THE SCORCHED REMAINS OF YOUR BODY!”

Thanos caught the second punch and pushed Nebula back. He touched his cheek and found a cut where Nebula’s cybernetic limb had sliced it.

“Stop,” he said, raising his hand as several of his children rushed at Nebula to subdue her. “Return to your duties and leave her to me.”

They followed his orders with hesitant reluctance, but Thanos did not take his eyes off of Nebula. His daughter trembled with barely contained emotion, and Thanos had to admit that he was intrigued. Betrayal did not come from nothing, and before he defeated her, he wanted to know why.

“Talk to me, daughter,” he said and had to dodge another attack as she charged at him with a battlecry.

“You will hear nothing but my chant of victory as my blade breaches your thorax and pierces your heart slowly and agonisingly!”

“Not even to tell me why my own daughter wishes to kill me?” Thanos frowned as he fended off Nebula’s next attack. He had not taught her that maneuver.

It wasn’t only her fighting moves that threw him off. Her entire body language, the very way she moved was off, was different from what it had been only hours prior. Gone was the cold rigidness of metal and machinery, gone the unnatural stillness that made one wonder where Nebula ended and the machine started.

His daughter was many things: she was fierce and calculating, raised to be ruthless and competent, much like Gamora was. But she had never been unpredictable. She didn’t take initiative or unnecessary risks. And while her temper had always been her weakness, it had never surpassed her loyalty.

Thanos was not above admitting that she had caught him off guard – the blood dripping from his cheek was proof of that. And that was not a feeling he was used to, especially not coming from his own children.

“As if you don’t know what you have done!” Nebula yelled, once again letting anger override her cunning and efficiency.

It made Thanos pause. He recognized the emotion flickering through Nebula’s eyes, had seen it dozens of times during as many of their training sessions. “This is about Gamora,” he guessed, and watched as Nebula froze.

“No,” she hissed, ice weighing heavy in her voice. “This was never about her. This is about you, mutilating my body for your own, sick purposes!”

Thanos frowned in equal puzzlement and displeasure. Nebula could not be more wrong. “That is not what I have done.”

“Oh yeah?” Nebula hissed and detached her arm just an inch, proving that it was artificial. “Then what do you call this?”

“An enhancement,” Thanos said truthfully. “Designed to make you your sister’s equal. I’ve seen your frustration each and every time she has bested you in combat, and I know your strive to be stronger better than anyone. All I have done is given you the tools to reach your full potential.” He paused, then added, “As a father should.”

“NO!” Nebula lashed out again, threw kicks and blades and punches, wielding none of the precision and beauty Thanos knew her capable of. When before, Thanos could have foreseen each and every of her attacks – could have traced them back to his own training sessions, to his own fighting prowess – now he found himself fending of a variety of unorthodox, puzzling moves.

“This is not what a father is! You’ve corrupted me! You’ve tortured me! You’ve turned me into your puppet, into your weapon! AND FOR THAT YOU WILL PAY!”

It saddened Thanos to hear her words. While Gamora was the closest he had to a real daughter, he had thought that Nebula was one of his most loyal. Her assault did not cease, and Thanos decided that enough was enough.

Nebula grunted as she hit the ground with his strike.

“You cannot beat me, daughter.” He was not saying it to taunt her, but because it was true. It did not matter where Nebula had picked up her new style, because it could not compete with Thanos’ own. Few could.

Nebula, behind her fury and bloodlust, knew it as well. She growled, and for a moment Thanos thought that she would try again regardless. Then she paused. “... You’re right.”

Something in her tone made the rest of his crew tense in anticipation.

“I cannot beat you. Not alone.”

Her arm shot forward and Thanos braced himself for a blow that would not come. Her throwing knife sunk into the control station, aimed perfectly to knock them off of their course, shake the bridge and sound off alarm bells in a disorienting array of noise and flashing lights.

The issue took seconds to correct, and seconds was all Nebula needed to disappear into the ventilation shafts.

Thanos had taught her well.

“Find her,” Thanos said and settled back in his seat.

He held no hope to regain the loyalty of a daughter who had tried to kill him, but he would not let her flee. He would get answers out of here, and if she forced him to get them out of her himself? So be it.

Nebula was by far not the first of his children to refuse his gift, and she would not be the last. He found no joy in her rejection, nor did he weep.

He knew that all he could do was offer. He could not force acceptance, nor demand gratitude. And Thanos had resigned himself a long time ago that few saw his gift for what it was.

A few minutes, a few dozen corpses and three minor explosions later found Nebula sitting in a crappy transporter vessel that was little more than a glorified escape pod. It was only then, having barely escaped with her life, that Nebula realized what a huge target she had just painted on herself. It was perhaps, maybe, possible that all of this had been one giant mistake.

Nebula cleaned the gore of several of Thanos’ high ranked officers – including a member of his precious Black Order – off of her blade and could not bring herself to feel even an ounce of regret.

The monitor of her escape vessel displayed an attempt to contact her, and Nebula cursed. She thought she’d brought enough distance between them, but apparently not.

She was about to direct full power to the engines when a painfully familiar voice made her freeze in her tracks.

“Nebula, what is going on?!”

She looked up to meet Gamora’s gaze, deep with confusion and anger. That was right: Going by the date, Nebula was not the only one still under their father’s thumb. Although considering that Gamora was scheduled to defect to the Guardians shortly, there was no way she was not already sprouting revenge fantasies against him.

In contrast to Nebula, she had the temperament to hide it from Thanos until it was her time to strike.

“What’s going on?” Gamora repeated. “Thanos sent me to capture you. I don’t know what you did, but–”

“There’s no time,” Nebula blurted out. If Gamora’s loyalty was already crumbling, but her cover was yet intact… She couldn’t believe her luck.

Nebula’d been given a chance here, and she would not waste it with sentimentality. “Listen. I want the same thing as you do,” although it had taken her far too long to realize, “but Thanos can’t know.”

The ping of her sensors told her that Thanos’ fleet was nearing. She had only seconds to let Gamora know what to do.

“You have to chase me like Before. Pretend like nothing has changed. Understand?”

“What–”

“THERE’S NO TIME!” Nebula yelled, and activated the engine of her vessel.

Her sister would be far more valuable as a spy. She had always been better at keeping her temper in check, and she would be more successful in keeping up the facade. After all, Nebula had already screwed it up for herself.

Having a spy so close to Thanos would prove invaluable in their fight against him. And now that Gamora knew that they were on one side, they would be able to share the joy of murdering their adoptive father in all the ways he would come to fear.

Later, Nebula would take a moment to pause and wonder whether there could have been better ways to phrase her message to Gamora. Logically, Nebula knew that the Gamora from the past was missing a lot of context, and in the heat of the moment Nebula had not considering talking to her any other way than she would have Before.

In the end, Nebula shrugged the whole thing off and didn’t think about it for longer. Gamora was smart. She would figure it out.

On another, considerably less crappy spaceship, Gamora allowed herself exactly two heartbeats of stunned silence. Like nothing had changed? Chase her like before? What did that even mean?!

In the end, Gamora shrugged off her pseudo-sister’s words. All those modifications must have finally gotten to her, screwed with her head and pushed her over the edge. In all honesty, it had been only a matter of time until she lost it.

That, or it was another of Thanos’ elaborate training sessions. The more Gamora thought about it, the more sense it made. He wanted to test her reaction, her skills, like he had done so many times before.

In either case, Gamora would not fail. She powered up the engines to follow Nebula’s trail, taking on the chase. She had an assignment to complete.

Chapter Text

When the phone rang and interrupted Shuri’s excited rambling, T’Challa was less than thrilled, to put it mildly.

It had been a long day of diplomatic meetings and political lessons, his father insisting on his involvement to let him learn. T’Challa carried out his duty proudly, knowing fully well that Wakanda would one day be his to nourish and rule.

But his dedication did not change the dullness and repetitive nature of some of their diplomats, and T’Challa had happily used what was left of his day to pay his little sister a visit in the labs.

The ten-year-old was in her element, soaking up the lessons the best of their scientists offered when they had the time, and discovering and learning on her own when they couldn’t.

But of course, somebody just had to require his attention and interrupt their far too seldom bonding time.

Shuri was too curious to feel the same disappointment, and happily chattered on. “Who’s that? Is it Nakia? Are you two going somewhere? Can I come?”

“Nakia is not in Wakanda,” T’Challa said patiently. “And I won’t know who it is if you don’t let me answer.”

An unknown number. That was odd. T’Challa did not give this number to just anyone, and it should have been impossible for a stranger to get their hands on it.

“Hello?” he asked in Xhosa, and was surprised when the answer came in English instead.

“Is this T’Challa?”

“Yes,” he answered, switching to English and shaking off Shuri’s questioning look. “Who is this?”

“Right. Okay. This is going to sound weird, but this is Tony Stark. From America. Iron Man, founding member of the Avengers, that whole shtick.”

“Tony Stark,” T’Challa repeated slowly. The name had sounded vaguely familiar, but only with Stark’s elaboration had he realized who he was talking to. Iron Man, American superhero and, according to his father, son of Howard Stark. There’d been a news report on the alien invasion only recently.

It did not answer any of the questions T’Challa had. “How did you get this number?”

An awkward pause followed.

“Um. Google?” Stark said, his voice rising in a question and not at all convincing.

T’Challa raised an eyebrow despite Stark not being able to see it. If nothing else, it made Shuri grin. She hung onto his every word: she was an astonishingly fast learner, even though she did not pick up English as quickly as she did technology.

“Why did you call?” he asked instead, humoring the other man.

“Right. So, this might sound weird–”

“Weirder than the fact that we are talking at all?”

“Possibly, yes. Quite probably, actually. Definitely. Um.” Stark cut himself off with a cough, and T’Challa couldn’t explain why he sounded so utterly unsure of his own words. He had initiated the conversation, not T’Challa.

“Please,” he said, intending to stop another bout of rambling before it could happen. “What is it that you called for?”

“Right. Okay. I know we’ve never talked and that Wakanda is super isolated and secret and also that my dad stole your super special element to make a frisbee out of it.” Another pause followed, more awkward than the one before it. “Anyway, the point is, I really need to borrow your sister.”

T’Challa blinked, speechless. He couldn’t have understood that correctly.

“Oh, and the world might depend on it. No pressure.”

In front of him, Shuri bounced on her feet, eyes wide with curiosity at her brother’s odd reaction. “What did they say? What did they say?”

“I will have to call you back,” T’Challa said, his intuition telling him that he would rather do anything else instead.

“Dr. Strange! Hey, Dr. Strange!”

Stephen Strange heaved a sigh, reluctantly coming to a halt at the hospital reception to stop the receptionist yelling after him. Stephen hadn’t bothered learning his name.

“What is it?” he said, not even trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He would very must like to enjoy the rest of his break in peace, thank you very much.

“U-Um. I-I’m sorry, but you have a call,” the receptionist said, his wide eyes and hushed voice suggesting he was holding a dangerous animal instead of a telephone. “A-Apparently you weren’t reachable on your phone–”

“I’m on my break,” Stephen interrupted, his patience effectively used up. “I turned it off. Whoever it is, tell them to try their luck learning some patience. People keep telling me it is a virtue.”

With that he turned around, turning on his phone while he was at it. 36 missed calls. Whoever it was, they were persistent. Annoyingly so.

“W-Wait! Dr. Strange! It’s Tony Stark!”

That made Stephen freeze. He turned, raising an eyebrow at the receptionist. “Tony Stark?”

“Y-Yes. He says it’s important.”

“Huh.” What in the world could Tony ‘I am Iron Man’ Stark possibly want from him? He had thought that ordinary people like him existed far removed from an ego as big as his. Well, as ‘ordinary’ as you could call Stephen Strange, of course.

Perhaps a sick relative? If he was looking for the best of the best, Stephen was obviously at the top of the list.

“I’ll take it,” he said, snatching up the phone from the receptionist’s hand and ignoring the protests following him down the hallway. “This is Dr. Stephen Strange,” he started, but trailed off when he realized that Stark wasn’t listening.

“–T’Challa call back yet? Yeah, I know , J. Thanks for reminding me. Hmh. Yeah. Look, if worse comes to worst I’ll take the suit and fly over. Oh shush, it’s a marvelous idea, don’t be a spoilsport. Hey, what about the kid? I got some other stuff to take care of, but after that… He’s how old?! Jesus Christ. Is that even legal?”

“Stark,” Stephen said, once he’d had enough of his incomprehensible babbling. “This might come as a shock to you, but other people have lives of their own. My time is extremely limited.”

There was a pause. “Wow. Did someone set your broomstick on fire? You’re even more stuck-up than I rem– than I expected.”

“If there’s something you want from me, I assure you, this is the exact wrong way of getting me on your side.”

“Alright, alright, don’t get your wizard robe in a twist–”

“My what now–”

“–but I know about your thing.”

“My thing,” Stephen repeated.

“Your mojo. Magic. Being Sorcerer Supreme, that whole thing. In all honesty, I’m impressed you haven’t already burst out with it yourself. You’re doing a far better job keeping it a secret than I did, that’s for sure.”

Stephen opened his mouth to say… something, but Stark barreled on. “Now, I’m sure you’re just burning to ask how I know about it–”

“Wouldn’t be my first question.”

“–but I’m afraid that’ll have to wait. We need to meet. ASAP. And bring your amulet; it’s about the infinity stones and the entire universe is at stake.”

Stephen couldn’t remember the last time someone had managed to render him speechless. For a good few heartbeats, he gaped straight ahead.

“Strange? Look, we’re kinda on a schedule, so if–”

“As enlightening of your eccentricities as this conversation may be,” Stephen said, breaking out of his stupor, “I have a surgery to complete in fifteen minutes. So unless you–”

“Wait. Did you just say surgery?”

“Yes. Seeing as I am a highly decorated surgeon, that should not come as that big of a surprise to you.”

There was silence on the other end, long enough to make Stephen check if Stark had ended the call. What an utter waste of time. It seemed like Stark needed help far beyond that of a mere surgeon; a shrink would be a good start.

“... Shit,” Stark said, finally breaking the silence. “Alright.”

Another pause followed, and it sounded like he was genuinely at a loss what to say. Miracles did exist.

“Look, could you just call me back once you’re all magicked up?”

Stephen hung up the call. His time was too valuable to waste it on an eccentric – and apparently, completely bonkers – billionaire turned superhero.

Random Goon #62 was nervous.

No, that wasn’t right: Nervous didn’t even begin to cover it. She looked at the brightly flashing alarm, its warning bells piercing her ears, fully aware that for several weeks, the news had been stuffed with reports of the so-called “Avengers” (she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry at their choice in name). More specifically, reports of their many victories.

Only a few months prior, Hydra had operated in the shadows. Nobody had even known that they had survived beyond the 20th century.

And now, beginning just after aliens had almost destroyed New York, six clowns in suits and costumes were going after them, uncovering and blasting through Hydra base after Hydra base that none of them had any right to know about.

The alarm shone red over #62’s face. And now they were here. In her base, six freaks with weapons and/or superpowers beyond their imagination, one of them Captain fucking America. Who was alive, apparently. Hydra’s biggest enemy had somehow survived his crash in the Arctic, was well into his 90s – because that was a thing that was possible now – and was after them.

It wouldn’t be quite as hilariously ironic if #62 had any corporate loyalty to speak off. Honestly, she was just in it for the – admittedly generous – paycheck. If this wasn’t karma, she didn’t know what was.

She’d never even been in a serious combat situation before. She spent most of her job tapping away at a computer or standing in front of a door, looking threatening – for whenever they had guests they had to impress; she wasn’t actually trained as a guard – and had never seen any action around here before.

And now she was up against the Avengers. You ally yourself with people who were technically Nazis one time …

Perhaps in retrospect, #62 should have seen it coming.

A bang close to her position suggested that another door had met its end at the hand of Captain America’s shield. Or actual-norse-deity-Thor’s hammer. Or – and they were so screwed – Hulk, the green rage monster that had single-handedly flattened Harlem. #62 wanted to laugh so she wouldn’t burst into tears instead.

She grabbed the next best object as a weapon – no, she did not have an actual gun, she was a computer analyst, for Thor’s sake (would he spare her if she made him an offering, she wondered? Mildy hysterically, she wished she had payed closer attention in mythology class).

She looked down, checking her weapon of choice. Brilliant. The enemy had an armor built by the world’s best weapons manufacturer, the actual hammer of Thor from the myths and the Hulk. And she had a stapler. Wonderful.

Nevertheless, #62 slowly made her way down the hallway. Perhaps if she was sneaky, she would be able to leave the base without ever having to catch even a glance of them. She still had a chance to escape, if she only used all of her cunning and–

She rounded a corner, ran straight into Black Widow with an “ Umpf ” and landed on her butt in front of them. Additionally to the spy, Iron Man and Captain America in the flesh stared down at her.

Oh god. Oh dear god. She was screwed. She was so utterly, perfectly screwed.

#62 dropped her stapler like it had burned her. “Don’t shoot! Please don’t shoot! I swear I’ll do whatever you want, I’m new here, I don’t even know what’s going on, honestly, these guys give me the creeps –”

Oh man. Oh dear. Black Widow’s glare could have frozen fire and Captain America looked at her, his shield raised and eyes full of righteousness and an expression that screamed disappointment. Somewhere near, an eagle must have started crying.

And Iron Man? His faceplate was up, revealing an entirely too cheerful Tony Stark. “Go on, Captain Underpants, tie her up.” Next, he looked straight at #62. “Don’t worry about Widow. She only wants you to think she’s scary.” His voice dropped into a mock-whisper. “She has a thing for Disney movies, you know? But to be fair, who doesn’t?”

#62 didn’t know what was happening, her eyes nearly bulging out of her skull. Was she supposed to answer? Had Iron Man just used a silly nickname on America’s icon and dropped personal information on the Spy, with a capital S? How was he even still alive?

Captain America only sighed, dropping down next to her to do as he was told. Widow’s death glare had redirected to an entirely unconcerned Iron Man.

“Just do as he says,” Captain America muttered, almost gently dragging her to her feet. His voice was subdued in a way that screamed of a long, tiring day. #62 thought she was starting to realize the reason for that.

The moment she was on her feet, Iron Man zoomed in on her again.

“Do you happen to know where your freezers are?”

“I thought we were looking for the Enhanced,” Widow said, and was somehow intimidating despite her entirely neutral expression.

“Nah, we’re doing those next. I thought Stevie would want to get this out of the way, first.”

“Why would I–”

“Stark,” Widow interrupted, “this isn’t a joke. Whatever you’re looking for is–”

“Right here,” Iron Man said, “so it’s too late anyway.”

#62 scraped together enough courage to speak up. “I don’t know–”

“It’s okay,” Iron Man interrupted, “I do.”

Her mouth snapped shut with a click. Iron Man proceeded to stride through the hallways confidently like he knew exactly where he was going – which was impossible, but then again, so was their general presence – and #62 was dragged along for the ride. Why couldn’t they have just left her? She should have stayed in bed this morning.

She must have zoned out for a bit, wallowing in self-pity, because the next time she looked up the Avengers had found – and subdued – her boss. Along with all of the high-ranking personnel that had been with her. Considering how comically fast everything was over, #62 felt a bit better about being captured herself.

And alright, there was apparently a dramatic monologue happening. Those were practically part of the job description, so #62 leaned back, preparing for a few long, drawn out minutes.

Except Iron Man wasn’t having it.

“Avengers,” her boss hissed, hatred written in every fiber of her expression. “You do not even begin to understand the power Hydra is wielding. Our influence reaches high, higher than–”

“You mean Senator Pierce?”

Her boss’ voice stuttered to a halt in disbelief. “H-How could you–?” She cut herself off, recovering admirable quickly. “No matter. He is but a pawn in our grand scheme. Decades of careful planning have allowed us to–”

“Infiltrate SHIELD? Get your hands on a pair of kids with superpowers? Or do you mean your side project of duplicating the super soldier serum in form of a brainwashed popsicle?”

Next to them, both the Captain and Widow stiffened. Her boss gaped up at her captor, disbelief coloring her expression and utterly speechless. “But… H-How…”

“What can I say? I’m just that awesome.”

“Stark,” Widow hissed, a warning that promised a slow and painful death if he didn’t explain himself right this instance. For once, Iron Man was smart enough to comply.

“Fine,” he said, dropping the cheerful tone. “We’re here to bust out the Winter Soldier.”

“Do you have any idea,” Widow began, but she was cut off once again.

“I do, actually.” Iron Man turned to the Captain. “Look, Cap. This isn’t gonna be pretty, so. Try to limit your rampage to the bad guys and keep in mind that I have ways of helping him.”

The crease between the Captain’s eyes showed that he had no idea what Iron Man was talking about, but he nodded, tense and tight-lipped. There had to be some kind of trust between them, because he followed Iron Man without asking more questions.

Five minutes later and faced with a livid American icon tearing apart their base piece by piece, #62 saw her life flash before her eyes and took the time to regret every single of the choices she had made that had brought her into this particular situation.

While she was at it, she also cursed whoever had had the brilliant idea of picking Captain America’s best friend to be their super secret weapon/assassin – what could have possibly gone wrong with that?

Oh well. If by any chance #62 survived to live another day, she could at least say out of personal experience that the Avengers were far less stoically heroic than the media made them out to be. And Iron Man? If Iron Man wasn’t stark raving mad, she would eat the stapler she had so valiantly used to defend her life from these lunatics.

Chapter Text

Nebula spent the next few weeks getting exactly nothing done as she was too busy struggling not to be captured by her sister. It was not that Nebula didn’t appreciate that she was going along with her plan, but why in the world did she have to be so enthusiastic about it?!

She had to remind herself that Gamora had to act convincingly to keep her cover, and Nebula would thank her for it later. It would serve them well in the future, she was sure.

Nebula tried to hold onto that thought even as she dodged a barrage of her sister’s battle systems for the third time in as many sleep cycles.

A few dozen evasive maneuvers and a blown fuel tank later Nebula (crash)landed on the circumbinary Qeonia, a sad excuse for a planet with its only redeeming quality being the dust cloud that surrounded it, dense enough to disrupt most types of sensors.

Not wasting time with securing her vessel – if somebody was desperate enough to steal what was essentially a flying piece of garbage, she was inclined to thank them for taking it off her hands – Nebula entered the first of the bunker-like structures that looked promising to find somebody able to sell her spare parts.

Qeonia was not the kind of place most people knew about – or voluntarily sought out – which made it perfect to lie low for as long as she needed to repair her escape vessel.

Thanks a lot, Gamora.

Nebula’s memory had not failed her. Inside of the “bunker” she found one of Qeonia’s traditional marketplaces, stalls and counters stacked together in a labyrinth of activity.

Finding mechanical parts (in a stack that resembled more of a garbage dump) wasn’t difficult, and Nebula was crowded by an individual a head taller than her almost immediately. Nebula could not place the species, although her round, dark eyes and the markings on her hairless skull made her suspect the Corona System.

“Looking for a new one, Lupha?” the merchant asked, all of her eyes sliding towards Nebula’s cybernetic arm.

Nebula scowled at the nickname – the abbreviation of a species Nebula barely remembered, despite it being her own – and jerked down the sleeve of her uniform to cover her arm. “I need tools to repair my ship.”

“I can help with that. And with many things more.”

“Just the parts. Hand me what I need, and I’ll be on my way.”

The merchant looked down at her, an annoying twinkle in her eyes. Her teeth were sharp and might have been unnerving with the way she grinned, if Nebula wasn’t quite as irritated as she was.

“First, tell me what you’re looking for.”

“I said, ” Nebula pressed out through clenched teeth, “that I’m here for spare parts.”

“So you’ve said. But what is it that you want ?” The merchant paused, her eyes focused on Nebula unblinkingly. “It may surprise you how many people end up on Qeonia by accident.”

“It would surprise me more if people came here voluntarily.”

The merchant laughed, a throaty sound that made Nebula’s scowl deepen. “You’re not wrong. But you haven’t let me make my point. People love to talk, but they do not think to mind their words in a place like this. Qeonia is not a place you remember, once you have left.”

“And your point?” Nebula crossed her arms impatiently.

“Tell me what you seek, and I might be able to tell you who to look for. Or where.”

Nebula contemplated the offer. She was not hoping to fly under the radar for long in the first place – punching the Mad Titan in the face had taken care of that in a most spectacular fashion – so in a way, she did not have to concern herself with keeping a low profile as much as she might have in different circumstances.

On the other hand, unnecessarily drawing attention towards her search for the infinity stones sounded like a particularly bad idea.

Or she could kill the merchant afterwards. Nebula was not picky.

“What I’m looking for are artifacts as old as the universe itself,” she finally settled on.

The merchant’s laughter made her grit her teeth painfully tight, the noise grating on her nerves and hurting her ears. “There is no such thing!”

Nebula’s growled, and didn’t even have to pull her knife to make the merchant fall silent.

“Alright.” The merchant leaned back, her eyes straying to all sides in what might have been a thoughtful gesture. “Artifacts as old as the universe itself,” she repeated. “You are looking for a special kind of collector. The kind who seeks but the most special possessions to call their own.”

“I know of the Collector.” Who didn’t? If this was the best the merchant could come up with, Nebula was wasting her time. “No one else could possibly be enough of a moron to play with that kind of power.”

“I was not talking about him. ” Something akin to scorn decorated the word. “And you underestimate what greed makes people do.”

That made Nebula pause. “You have names?”

“I have coordinates,” the merchant countered. “And the more details you can give me on the objects that you seek, the more helpful they will be.”

“What do you want in return?”

The merchant leaned back, tilting her head in contemplation. “I have vessels to offer. The highest quality you will find around these parts.” All of her eyes rounded back towards Nebula in a swirl of movement. “Forget your spare parts. Buy one of them, and I will send you on your way with the information you need.”

Nebula pretended to consider when in reality, the stolen units that had once been Thanos’ did not make the choice difficult at all.

“Tell me what you know about the infinity stones, and I will consider the deal.”

Sitting in a proper space ship at last and typing in the first set of coordinates, Nebula felt a certain amount of glee at having spent a ridiculous amount of Thanos’ money.

The several leads on locations that could possibly bring her closer to the infinity stones did not hurt either.

What Nebula had not considered, was what came after reaching her destination.

The first set of coordinates led Nebula to a Parean handler whose collection was as broad as their species’ definition of the word “merchandize”. They were not difficult to find, stalking over the surface of a minor, carbon based planet like it belonged to them. Chances were that it did.

One would think that such an individual could afford bodyguards that took longer to cut down.

“Tell me what you know of the infinity stones,” Nebula snapped, crowding in on them with her blood-dripping blade. It did not have the effect she had desired.

“Bold question. Who’s asking it?”

Nebula narrowed her eyes. Either the handler was very brave or very stupid. “I will cut off one of your limbs for every question that you fail to answer, starting with your fingers. You have time to relent until all the blood has drained from your body, at which point I will make sure that nobody will recognize your mutilated corpse for who it once was. Talk.”

The handler paused, but did not shy away. “I have dealt with many people like you in my career.” They tilted their head towards Nebula and ignored her growl of warning. “And I think you’re bluffing.”

They leaned back with a self-assured smirk, gloating as if they had already won. “Am I right?”

Stupidity it was.

Security found them half a dozen body parts later, and Nebula was ready to admit that the no longer screaming mess that was left of the douchebag of a handler did not, in fact, have any clue whatsoever where the infinity stones were.

Seeing as they had pathetically tried to bargain for their life after only a single cut – their offers ranging from artifacts over property to people – Nebula’s satisfaction at causing them pain far outweighed her disappointment over the fact.

Later, once she found out about the bounty on her head that had nothing to do with Thanos, Nebula tentatively considered if perhaps a different approach would bring her further the next time around.

Whatever kind of strategy Nebula could have come up with, she did not get the opportunity to test it.

The next set of coordinates had to be a mistake. It lead her to a nameless planet, remote and underdeveloped enough to not even have a standardised translator chip – something almost unthinkable, seeing as every society who had even remotely touched intergalactic travel (or visitors) possessed them.

“I’m looking for the infinity stones!” Nebula snapped for what felt like the twentieth time, her arm itching to summon her blade.

The locals were not discouraged from her increasingly bad mood, and kept alternating between muttering among themselves and trying to communicate with Nebula in a myriad of gestures, signs and meaningless babble.

“No! No, they look like this!” Nebula projected an image depicting the infinity stones – artificially recreated by her, as this body had not yet had the chance to record their appearance.

The locals’ reaction was immediate. Their eyes widened, their heads moving frantically as they chattered to each other in excitement. One of them took hold of Nebula’s arm, and, instead of pulverizing them for the audacity, Nebula allowed herself to be tugged along.

“Yes! Which one of them have you seen?”

She was taken towards one of the planet’s meager structures, and another set of locals came out, presenting her with a tray and beaming happily.

“No! I don’t want your jewelry!” Nebula yelled, fuming as she slapped away the hand of an individual trying to put a band of glass pearls around her neck.

Another day wasted, and another half dozen destinations to come.

If there was one thing Nebula had learned in her life, it was that greed made people do almost everything.

“You have something that I want,” she said, far too publically for her liking, but allowing her subject to bask in the (misleading) safety of a crowd. “Information on a certain object. I am willing to pay you a small fortune to obtain it.”

“Oh? A small fortune you say?” The harsh features of her subject’s lizard-like visage did little to hide his interest. It seemed like he didn’t even try to hide it. This would be easy. “How much are we talking?”

Nebula held up the screen displaying a sum of units wordlessly, and his scales stood up in excitement. “What information? What do you want to know?”

He would not even try to haggle. What an amateur. Nebula could not believe her luck. “What do you know about the infinity stones?”

A shiver ran through him as his scales flattened against his body. “W-What–? Why would you– Oh!” All tension left his body and he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “He sent you, didn’t he? To test me?” His mouth pulled into a harsh grin. “You won’t hear nothing from me!”

“Nobody sent me,” Nebula snapped. “Tell me what you know!”

There was another shiver, and Nebula had to suppress the urge to growl in annoyance. “Nice try. You are very convincing. But don’t worry! I promised to hold my silence, and I will.”

Nebula cried out in frustration and didn’t realize she had drawn her blade until the chair nearest to her fell apart cut to pieces. She stuffed the units back into her pocket, seeing as it seemed less and less likely that she would need them.

Around them, the room had fallen silent.

“Let’s try this again,” Nebula growled. “Shall we?”

Whatever. There were other ways of persuasion besides bribes.

“I’ve been watching you,” Nebula hissed as introduction, making her next victim freeze in their steps. The artificial features of their face did not quite manage to hide their wariness.

Their name was Ila, and while they had never met Nebula before, Nebula had spent the better part of the past dozen sleep cycles getting to know them intimately well. She’d hated every second of it – Nebula was not made for stealth missions – but if it finally brought her closer to the information she sought, it would have been worth it.

“I’ve kept an eye on you for a long time. And I know about your secret.”

“W-What–”

“I want information,” Nebula cut them off. “Or you will have to bear the consequences of your actions. What would Ay say if they found out about Iht?”

Ila tensed as they realized the gravity of the situation, hesitated as they tried to find another solution, and finally turned as they accepted their fate. Their eye lense narrowed as it zoomed in on Nebula, and she hoped they wouldn’t start begging. How she hated the begging.

Finally Ila’s mouth slid open, and… “Wait. What?”

Nebula scowled in annoyance. Would she have to spell it out for them? “Tell me what I want to know, or your beloved will find out about the affair you have taken great care to hide from them.”

“Hide from them? But Iht is part of the relationship just as much as Ay!”

“... What.”

“Iht and Ay love each other, just as much as I love them.” As impossible as it should have been to form a dopey smile with a jaw made of metal, Ila somehow managed to succeed. It was sickening.

“But your species values monogamous, life-long lasting bonds!”

“Oh, you’re confusing me with a Tessian. They’re monogamous.” Their eyes fell shut in a far too cheerful way. “I’m a Tespian, we’re polygamous!”

This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Nebula resisted the urge to slam her head into the nearest wall.

“Don’t worry.” Ila made it worse by laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “People make that mistake a lot.”

Bribes hadn’t brought Nebula closer to her goal. Blackmail had not worked, either. Threats had blown up in her face.

The next time Nebula tried, she decided to take a leaf out of the heroes’ book, and put on a facade as friendly and forth coming as she managed.

“Hello friend,” she said, falling into the seat opposite of her next subject and twisting her mouth into a smile in her best Mantis impression.

He fainted on the spot and hit the ground before Nebula had the chance to say more than those two words.

The smile slid off her face and into a scowl at once. Whatever.

Nebula was close to giving up and reverting back to her strategy of threats and bodily harm when she landed on a small, inconspicuous planet that hid the base of one of the biggest smuggling rings in this part of the universe.

She had not heard from Gamora since she had landed on Queonia – so long ago – but she was not worried. Her sister was strong, so her concern would be misplaced.

It didn’t mean that she didn’t wonder.

Nebula did not have to bother looking for her next contact. Somebody tracked her down, first.

“You’re the one who has been asking about the infinity gems, aren’t you?”

Nebula paused stiffly. “Who’s asking?”

“Somebody who owes the Great Titan a great deal.”

He thought that Nebula was still working for Thanos. What a moron. “Then you know that the best way to show your devotion is to help him seek out the objects he desires.” Perhaps he was one of the miserable creatures profiteering from one of Thanos’ crusades. Perhaps Thanos wiped out one of his enemies.

Or perhaps he was one of the lunatics who genuinely believed in Thanos’ cause. Whichever was the case, Nebula would use any and all advantages that presented themselves to her.

“Of course,” he whispered, and Nebula wanted to roll her eyes at the blind devotion that clouded his tone. “I will tell you what I know.”

His voice lowered even further. “There’s been whispers… that one of them has been stolen.”

“Stolen?!” Nebula hissed. “By whom?!”

“That’s where it gets interesting.” He paused, but hurried to keep talking when Nebula growled. “They say that the thieves are a group of outlaws.”

Nebula leaned closer as his voice trembled with excitement, oh so pleased to be able to help out the Titan’s daughter. “They call them… the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

Nebula froze, stunned into silence.

Thanos’ follower tilted his head hesitantly. “Um. Do you know th–”

Nebula broke out of her stupor with the pent up frustration of several pointless, wasted weeks. “THOSE MORONS!”

Chapter Text

The time it took T’Challa to track down his father was not enough to figure out how to explain what had happened to him without making Stark sound like a raving lunatic. In the end, T’Challa simply gave up and decided instead to get it over with quickly.

The king was alone when he found him, so T’Challa did not need to bother with formalities. “Baba,” he said, greeting him with a nod.

“T’Challa.” His father gave him a wide smile. “Did you not plan to spend time with your sister?” His smile dimmed in fake wariness. “The lab is still standing, is it not?”

“Have some faith in your daughter,” T’Challa said, even as his mouth pulled into a smile.

“I have fullest faith in her mind. Her caution? Not so much.” His father shook his head. “What is it that you came to tell me?”

T’Challa hesitated, choosing his words. “I’ve received a troubling call from America.”

“From America? Was it one of the War Dogs?”            

“No. It wasn’t anyone from Wakanda.”

His father frowned. “You were not contacted through your Kimoyo Beads, I hope?”

“No,” T’Challa said, “of course not.” Their Kimoyo Beads were a purely Wakandan invention. Most of their people didn’t need other means of communication, but those who needed to reach other countries – or even continents – kept more widespread devices on them. “That is not what made the call troubling.”

His father relaxed at the confirmation that their technology had not fallen into the wrong hands. “What then? Speak to me, my son.”

It occurred to T’Challa then that perhaps he had simply overreacted. He did not want to cause his father concern where it was not warranted. “It is probably nothing,” he said. “I was merely surprised. The call was from Tony Stark–”

“Stark?” His father’s brows rose. “Howard Stark’s son?”

“Yes. He knew about his father and the Vibranium.”

“Hmm.” His father did not seem overly concerned about the news, and T’Challa allowed himself to lose some tension. “When Howard Stark stole our Vibranium, he did so in the belief that it was the biggest piece of it in existence. As arrogant as it may be, if that is what he told his son, there should be no need for us to worry.”

T’Challa frowned, not entirely convinced.

“You have doubts?” His father asked.

“I am not sure,” T’Challa said. “He did not specify what he wanted, but the way he talked about Wakanda…” He trailed off, recalling as much as he could from their phone call. In retrospect, he should have kept Stark talking for longer. “He called Wakanda ‘isolated’ and ‘secret’. He did not sound like someone who thought of us as a nation of poor farmers.”

“Do you fear that he knows more about us than he should?”

“Perhaps. He implied so on multiple occasions.”

His father paused, his brows drawn up in worry. “You are right. That is concerning.”

There was a pause as T’Challa thought about his next words. Compared to his father, he was still new to the world of politics. “You could send ambassadors to talk to him,” he suggested.

“With what reasoning?” His father shook his head. “I cannot send ambassadors to someone like Stark without being given a reason to do so. He contacted you. He will not accept random delegates.” He paused, then blinked. When he looked back to T’Challa, it was with an entirely different expression. “My son. You know that I trust you, don’t you?”

A spark welled up in T'Challa's chest, half surprise and half pride. "Of course, Baba."

"Some day, you are going to be king. And you will have to learn to act in Wakanda's best interest without my guidance."

"Of course," T'Challa said, again.

"Why not use this as a learning experience? Take one of our jets and follow Stark's call to America. Find out what he wants and what he knows about us. I will lend you a few of the Dora to accompany you."

T’Challa’s eyes widened. “You want me to go to America? Without you?”

“It is about time, don’t you think? How long have I trained you to take over my duties, once your time comes?”

“Still…” T’Challa hesitated. “Do you think I am ready?”

His father laid a hand on his shoulder. "I do. I know you can do it, T'Challa. I have full confidence in your ability to handle this."

T'Challa laid his hand over his father's, his mouth pulling into a wide smile. "Your trust means a lot to me. I will not disappoint you." A thought occurred to him that made his smile waver. "There is one more thing about Stark."

"Oh?"

"He asked about Shuri. I am not sure how he knows about her at all, nor why he would want her to accompany me to America."

His father's brows knit together. "An odd request, indeed. Although seeing who his father was, I would not be surprised if he planned to steal our technology for his own gain."

T'Challa's mouth curled in distaste at the mere thought. Could that be the reason? Did Stark know about their technological advances, and try to get to them through a young, impressionable Shuri?

"Would you like to take her?"

T'Challa blinked. "What?"

"Shuri. Would you like to take her along to America?"

T'Challa stared. "You are not joking?"

"Why would I?" His father's smile was warm and trusting. "You are an adult, and I know I can trust you to take care of her. Besides," his smile widened, "you know how badly she's wanted to see the outside world. You were the same age when I brought you along overseas for the first time."

"I suppose... Although I hadn't thought of America as the best first destination. It is quite far."

"It is your decision, of course. Just know that whichever you decide, you have my full encouragement." His father's mouth pulled into a grin. "You may want to consider how she will react when she learns that you visited New York without her."

Needless to say, Shuri was ecstatic at the prospect of their trip to America, and had finished packing her bags by the time T’Challa had only started. They entered the jet brimming with excitement – Shuri quite literally, T’Challa more reserved – and crossed Wakanda’s border only a few minutes later.

T’Challa couldn’t help but feel pleased at how well everything was going. He was on his way to his first independent diplomatic mission overseas. His father trusted him to complete it on his own. He even trusted him with Shuri.

No matter what happened, T’Challa wouldn’t disappoint him. He would prove himself worthy of his father’s trust, and he would prove that he would make a great king, once his time came.

An hour into the flight, and T’Challa’s excitement had dimmed enough to allow for some tactical thinking. Everything that his father knew about Tony Stark he had told T’Challa, but it wasn’t much. He was going in blindly, trusting himself to be able to improvise once they had arrived. But it was fine. He could do this. His father trusted him to complete his task, and he would.

Three hours into the flight, and Shuri fell asleep in her seat. Looking at her, T’Challa realized with sudden clarity how young she was. What if Tony Stark was a horrible influence on her? What if America was? He wouldn’t be able to send her back on her own – they only had one jet – so she would be stuck in America for as long as it took T’Challa to complete his mission.

But his father trusted him, even with Shuri. T’Challa would be fine.

Several hours more into the flight and they finally crossed American borders. Shuri woke up to press her face against the window, taking everything in with childlike curiosity.

T’Challa’s expression on the other hand was carved of stone. Their journey was already so long. America was so far away. What if they needed help? What if something went wrong with the jet? What if something was wrong with Shuri?

“Okoye,” T’Challa said, and realized how quiet his Dora Milaje had been for the bulk of the flight. They seemed similarly unimpressed about the prospect of setting foot in New York. “What am I doing?”

Okoye’s glare spoke volumes. “I wouldn’t know, your Highness.”

T’Challa closed his eyes and leaned back with a sigh.

Next to him, Shuri had began chatting happily, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “We’re here, right? This is New York? Everything looks so… gray.”

“Yes,” T’Challa said, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “This is New York.” And now that they had arrived, there was no point in having second thoughts over his decision. Perhaps he was slightly underprepared, but it did not mean he could not be successful. He would be fine. He could do this.

“Is that Stark Tower?” Shuri’s face took on a look of critical assessment. “It’s okay,” she decided. “A bit boring. Everything in Wakanda looks far prettier.”

“It does,” Okoye agreed, peeking out of the window with far less enthusiasm than Shuri did.

T’Challa had to agree. Out loud, he said, “Perhaps try not to insult their architecture to their faces, once we land. Be polite.” He turned a pointed glare at Okoye. “Both of you.”

Shuri rolled her eyes, and T’Challa raised an eyebrow. “I can turn this plane around.”

“Fine! No insulting people to their faces. Got it.”

“As you wish,” Okoye said, somehow communicating with just the rise of an eyebrow that she did not appreciate being put on the same level as a ten-year-old girl, but that she let him get away with it. This time.

“T’Challa,” Shuri said, leaning over in her seat. “Someone is trying to contact us.”

“Put them through,” T’Challa said, not scolding his sister for fiddling with the controls. He shared a glance with Okoye. Both of them were aware that Shuri knew the plane better than he did by a mile.

“These are the royal siblings Shuri and T’Challa, arriving from Wakanda for our diplomatic meeting. Who’s speaking?” The put-on professionalism in her heavily accented English was belied by the giddy excitement gleaming in her eyes. If nothing else came out of this trip, at least Shuri was having the time of her life.

“Welcome to America,” a smooth, polite voice answered them. “Please steer towards the landing pad provided at the top of Stark Tower. You will be able to enter from there.”

T’Challa shared a glance with Okoye, but he nodded for Shuri to follow the instructions.

Was he being a responsible older brother, letting his baby sister land a jet on her own? Oh well. It wasn’t his fault that Shuri was brilliant.

“Wait here,” he instructed the other two Dora Milaje, waving for Okoye to follow them. “We will contact you if we’re in need of assistance.”

A door opened for them as soon as they stepped foot on the landing pad, and T’Challa put a hand on Shuri’s shoulder to stop her from rushing ahead. They stepped into a spacious elevator, which started to move without any of them having given it instructions.

“Welcome to Stark Tower,” the same accented voice greeted them as they entered, calling from somewhere out of the ceiling. “I have been instructed to lead you to the nearest conference room. The meeting will continue shortly, although I am afraid that Mr. Stark has not yet returned.”

“Are you an interface?” Shuri said, ignoring everything the voice had just said.

“Not quite, Princess Shuri. My name is JARVIS. I am an artificial intelligence and I was created by Mr. Stark to run the tower.”

“An artificial intelligence,” Shuri repeated, her eyes practically sparkling. Wakanda specialized in mechanical engineering and nano tech, not computer engineering. Which was not to say that they did not have advanced computer programs; the concept of an AI had not been worth pursuing when there was so much more they could improve on in their preferred fields.

“Does that mean you can think on your own? Beyond your programming?”

T’Challa could have sworn that the AI hesitated for the fraction of a second. “Mr. Stark has given me much freedom over how I am able to interact with the physical world.”

The implications of that were mildly alarming, and T’Challa was not surprised that of all of his inventions, Stark kept this particular creation away from the public. JARVIS could make many people extremely nervous, and rightfully so.

“You have reached your destination,” JARVIS said as the elevator stopped. They stepped out into a bare conference room, empty chairs at a long, empty table. “Please take a seat, and apologies for the wait.”

“If you’re an AI, you must have opinions,” Shuri said, dropping down on the nearest chair. “What’s your favorite color? No, that’s dumb. Element! What’s your favorite element?”

“I cannot say that I have a particular preference,” JARVIS said. “However, if I were to choose, I would have to say Starkanium.”

“Starkanium,” Okoye deadpanned. While T’Challa had tentatively taken the chair next to Shuri, Okoye remained standing.

“Starkanium is considered to be the key to limitless, renewable and clean energy. As the name suggest,” JARVIS said, his voice so dry that it sounded remarkably human, “it was created by Mr. Stark and has since then powered this tower as well as his suits.”

“Does he often name inventions after himself?” Okoye asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Mr. Stark has attempted to file a patent for the name ‘Badassium’. He has had to settle on the alternative after he encountered several bureaucratic obstacles.”

Shuri laughed, and a smile tugged at T’Challa’s lips. He had no doubt that Shuri could spend hours interrogating the AI without getting bored, but unfortunately, they had come for a reason.

“Where is Mr. Stark?” he asked before Shuri had the chance to ask something else. “We had an appointment.”

“My apologies. I am afraid Mr. Stark has gotten sidetracked gathering the remaining participants of the conference. Rest assured that I have alerted him of your presence, and he is on his way.”

“The remaining participants?” T’Challa repeated, mildly alarmed. “Mr. Stark has made the impression that he was interested in a personal meeting. Just how many other people has he invited?”

“My apologies for the misunderstanding,” JARVIS said. “The conference will be held by Mr. Stark, addressing your Highness from Wakanda, the five other founding members of the Avengers and related parties. The topic of the discussion will be the New York invasion, as well as expected consequences for the future and contingency plans.”

There was a beat of silence. T’Challa turned towards Okoye, who unhelpfully raised an eyebrow.

T’Challa had come with the expectation to hold mindless smalltalk with an eccentric billionaire and find out what he knew about their country under the ruse of a diplomatic talk. When exactly had he agreed to take care of an alien invasion?

“I am afraid there has been a mistake–” he started, but was cut off by a bright ping announcing the arrival of the elevator.

A man with glasses stepped out, his eyes fixed on the ground as if in deep thought. He stopped short at the sight of the three of them, his gaze snapping up and hands fidgeting restlessly. "Ah. I'm sorry. I... kind of expected to be the first." He shuffled into the room and sat down a few chairs down from them, his shoulders tense and shifting his weight. "Um. My name's Bruce Banner."

The name sounded familiar, although T'Challa couldn't place it. "T'Challa," he offered, giving a curt nod. "This is Shuri, my sister, and Okoye, my Dora Milaje." Upon seeing Banner's brows knit up in confusion, T'Challa added, "The Dora Milaje are the royal family's personal guards."

"Natasha Romanoff," called a new voice from the end of the table, making T'Challa tense and Okoye draw her weapon. Somehow neither of them had noticed the red-haired woman –  Romanoff? – come in.

As if on cue a ventilation shaft open up above them and a man dropped out, zooming in on the seat next to Romanoff immediately. "Clint Barton. Pleasure to meet you."

"... Likewise," T'Challa said, and laid a hand on Shuri's arm to calm her fidgeting.

Yes, these people were odd. Yes, there were quite a few things that could be said about their (lacking) hospitality. No, this was not a good moment to point out either of those things. Luckily for T’Challa, Shuri got the hint.

With that out of the way, he made Okoye put away her weapon with a significantly stricter glare. She hesitated, but obeyed.

Who were these people? JARVIS had mentioned the Avengers – the team that had allegedly taken out the alien army and stopped the invasion a few weeks back. Were they all part of the team? They didn't look like much – especially not Banner, who still wasn't meeting anyone's eyes – but T'Challa knew better than to judge people by their appearance.

He was not given much time to think. The next arrival was marked by an automatic door sliding open on the other side of the conference room, and before any of them had the time to react, Captain America in the flesh walked in. He carried his Vibranium shield on one side (Shuri tugged at his sleeve and whispered, “Look! Isn’t that ours?” in Xhosa) and held the shoulder of who looked like a homeless person missing one arm on the other.

Both of them froze when they caught sight of the others. "Oh," Rogers said. "Sorry. I didn't know people were already arriving."

"Didn't you say that you wanted to come after finishing the tour?" Barton asked. "I thought Barnes didn't want to join?"

"Was the guest room we have prepared not to your liking, Sergeant?" JARVIS asked.

"... No," Rogers said when Barnes didn't speak up on his own. "That's not it."

A beat passed in uncomfortable silence, until Barnes gently pushed away Rogers by his arm. "It's alright. I won't break because I'm spending some time on my own, Steve."

Rogers hesitated. "Alright. I'll bring you–”

"JARVIS can show me the way," Barnes interrupted, rather insistently. "See you later."

With that he disappeared into the elevator, and Rogers hesitantly sunk into one of the remaining chairs.

Considering who was currently sharing a room with the three of them, T'Challa was almost surprised when an ordinary looking, strawberry blonde woman entered the room like a regular person would. He changed his mind at the man who followed in her wake, long blond hair held back in a braid and carrying a hammer that fit to his armor-like clothing. He could have come straight out of a fantasy novel.

Just when T'Challa started to ask himself how many more peculiar people would be joining them, the door opened once more to reveal – finally – Tony Stark himself.

"–telling you, I've thought this through perfectly! Only because you can't follow my genius–”

"Genius? I've known you a long time, Tony, and this isn't you being smart, it’s you being reckless. At least let me–”

"I've got this Rhodey! Just, trust me. And if you insist–”

Romanoff pointedly cleared her throat, and both men fell silent.

"Right," Stark said, "Looks like everybody's here. Well, let's get this show started!"

T'Challa didn't exactly know what to say to that. He felt Okoye's glare on his back, and leaned to the side when Shuri tugged at his sleeve to get his attention.

“This is the best vacation ever!” she whispered, and T'Challa felt the sudden urge to bury his head in his hands.

What in the world had he gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

Nebula counted herself lucky that she’d been half a galaxy away from Xandar when she had found out about her sister and her idiotic friends. She’d left in a hurry, fuming with anger and cursing her sister’s name in all the languages that she knew. Her and Quill. She just knew that Quill had to be at fault somehow.

Nebula cried out in frustration, kicking the control station in front of her. They’d ruined their plan! Didn’t they realize how useful an undercover agent would have been against Thanos? How much they could have achieved, if only Gamora had kept her cover?

So many opportunities, wasted. What had Gamora been thinking?! It just wasn’t like her.

Nebula paused. It hit her then – it wasn’t like Gamora. It wasn’t like her at all.

Gamora was immensely more level-headed than she was. She wouldn’t ruin a well-thought out plan on a whim. Her teammates, perhaps. But Gamora would know better than to let a bunch of renegades come between her and a way to hurt Thanos, even if she happened to have befriended said bunch of renegades.

The only possible explanation could be that something had happened to blow her cover, and Gamora had had no choice but to flee. Yes – that must have been it.

Well, out of every setback, there also arose possibilities. Perhaps they had lost one of their biggest trumps against Thanos, but at least it meant that Nebula did not have to pretend anymore. She was free to meet up with Gamora – and, annoyingly, her new found friends – and talk properly to her for the first time.

And that was exactly what she was going to do. Nebula leaned back in the cockpit, rechecked the course she had set for Xandar, and waited for the moment that the Milano would enter the range of her sensors.

The power stone felt heavy in Gamora’s pocket. After everything that had happened she wanted nothing more than to get rid of the blasted thing, to never lay hands on it again and to make sure that nobody – certainly not Thanos – would be able to touch it. And they would. As soon as they’d recovered and were ready to leave Xandar.

They’d all agreed how stupid it would be to hand over the stone to the Nova Corps earlier than that, with no guarantee whether they’d be allowed to leave afterwards. Saviors of the universe or not, all five of them were still considered criminals in their eyes.

Well. All four of them.

Gamora threw a glance at Rocket and suppressed a sigh. A single branch was all he’d been able to salvage from Groot’s remains, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off of it ever since he’d planted it into a flower pot like it was ordinary wood, not part of his best friend’s corpse. Gamora wished they could convince him to get rid of it.

“Is there something I can bring you from the market?” she asked, at least wanting to make an effort. It was true that she didn’t know anything about Groot’s species or how their physiology worked, but this… This seemed desperate.

Rocket only a gave a grunt in response.

“Look, Rocket. Maybe it’s time to–”

Gamora didn’t get to finish the sentence. Peter burst into the room, holding something small in his hand and sporting a sheepish look that told Gamora he had done something she would not approve of.

“Um. Your communication thingy is making noises and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

As if on command, the device – Gamora’s device, why did Peter have it in the first place?! – let out a deep beeping noise.

“Give me that,” she snapped, snatching it out of his hands roughly. The communicator was the one she’d gotten from Thanos, the one she should have gotten rid of the second she’d been certain about her defection.

One glance at the display made her freeze. She didn’t move, too stunned to react.

“Um. Gamora?” Peter asked. “You alright there?”

“It’s my sister,” Gamora said, disbelief in her voice. “She’s trying to contact me.”

That got even Rocket’s attention. “Your sister? What, is she another crazy assassin raised by your lunatic of a father?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, what does she want?” Peter asked.

“How should I know?!” Gamora hadn’t seen her sister since Thanos had pulled her off the assignment to capture her. He must have finally realized how pointless the training exercise had been, and allowed Nebula to stop pretending. Gamora still wasn’t sure what the whole point of it had been.

Instead, she’d been ordered to support Ronan. It had been pure luck that the task had led her close to an infinity stone – her chance to finally leave her life as one of Thanos’ tools behind.

Getting to know the other Guardians, well. That had been an unexpected, but – as it turned out – surprisingly pleasant bonus. They were morons, the whole bunch of them. Not to mention insufferably annoying assholes with even more issues than bounties to their name.

Needless to say, Gamora fit right in with them.

Besides, it felt nice to have backup for once in her life. Especially if her sister turned out to have come for a fight.

“Let’s find out,” Gamora said.

“And let her know where we are?!” Peter said. “Are you crazy?!”

“This thing only works within a range. If her signal is able to reach us, she’s already close. She knows where we are.”

“Well, that’s just wonderful.” Rocket crosses his arms with a scowl. “Only a few days after the whole Ronan mess, and now another psychopath is after our hide?”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Gamora said without conviction. Trying to guess Nebula’s motivation had been… frustrating, lately. She hesitated, then pushed a button on her communicator to accept the call. “... Nebula?”

“About damn time,” Nebula growled, and Gamora couldn’t help but to tense at hearing her voice. “I’ve almost reached Xandar. We can talk then.”

Peter’s eyes widened in alarm and Gamora shushed him with a glare before he could interrupt. There was no time for panic. “What are you doing here, Nebula? What do you want?”

“You found the power stone.” Nebula wasn’t asking. “I’m initiating the landing. I will meet you outside of the Nova Corp’s headquarters.”

The call cut off, and there was silence.

“What the–” Peter started, and Gamora chimed in before he could finish.

“She’s here for the power stone. Thanos must have sent her.” She shared a grim look with her team.

“Brilliant. Any ideas on how to get out of this?” Rocket said. Gamora couldn’t help but notice that it was the first time in days that his attention was not entirely aimed at the branch that was left of Groot.

“You better know how to stop her,” Peter said. “You’re the only one who knows her.”

Gamora hesitated, her eyes settling on her sword. She hadn’t left it out of her reach once, unable to relax surrounded by an entire organization of people who not so subtly hated their guts.

“Get Drax,” she decided. “And grab your weapons. We’ll face her.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Rocket grumbled, but leaped from his seat nevertheless. He carefully, ever so gently tucked away Groot’s branch – safely out of sight – before he stalked out of the room, not without grabbing for one of his blasters on his way out. “Oi! Hey Drax! Get your ass out here. We’re fighting another psychopath.”

“Come on,” Gamora muttered, pretending not to see the pained look on Peter’s face. They could talk about it later.

Most likely they wouldn’t.

There was only one plaza big enough for the (unauthorized) landing of a space vessel, and by the time they reached it, they could already see Nebula climbing out. The sight of her made something cold and jagged manifest in Gamora’s chest, old memories rising to the surface scathingly and sharp. Gamora’s grip around her weapons tightened.

“Get ready,” she muttered, and stepped forth to face her sister. For once, her teammates didn’t argue.

“Where did you put the power stone?” Nebula asked instead of a greeting as soon as she was within earshot. She had always been direct, uncaring about etiquette or manners. Not that Gamora was much different. “It will serve us well on our quest.”

“If you haven’t realized yet, Nebula , I don’t serve Thanos anymore.” The sword in her hand was a familiar weight. Her back was a tense line, all of her muscles prepared to leap into action. “And I will sooner die than let the stone fall into his hands.”

Gamora knew better than to let Nebula attack first. Without so much as throwing a glance at her teammates, she charged.

“What are you doing, Gamora?!” Nebula blocked the first few blows out of pure instinct. Years of training, suffering and experience served her well; any other person would have had their throat slit with the first swing of her sword.

But why was Gamora attacking her in the first place? “What are you playing at?!”

“As if you don’t know!”

Another jab, and Nebula dodged just in time to prevent it from taking off her biological arm. It nicked the fabric of her sleeve instead. “What do you–?!”

Realization hit her so sudden, Nebula barely managed not to freeze and be slain by her sister. Of course. She must have misunderstood, earlier.

Nebula had assumed that Gamora had lost her cover, that she hadn’t had a choice but to flee and decided to focus her attention on the power stone, now that she no longer had to follow Thanos’ orders. But Nebula had gotten it all wrong. Gamora was still undercover. She must have manipulated Thanos into sending her on a ruse mission with the Guardians.

Nebula was impressed. She could have never pulled off acting as a double agent as effortlessly and convincingly as Gamora did. After getting her hands on the power stone, Gamora must have been betting on Nebula to connect the dots. She wanted her to “steal” the stone in front of witnesses so that Gamora could keep her position as a double agent without having to deliver it to Thanos.

She was smart. She was really, really smart. To think that Nebula had almost blown it with her hotheadedness. Of course she would play along.

“Fine,” Nebula snarled, pushing blood lust into the word. She had to make this convincing. “I will end you, Gamora!”

The scathing glare Gamora gave her in response was so convincing, Nebula felt reluctant admiration. Her sister was good. “You can try.”

Nebula pretended like they were back on one of their training decks, sparring under Thanos’ watchful eyes and with one of Nebula’s limbs at play. She charged.

“I will end you, Gamora,” Nebula groaned, her head rolling back against her seat listlessly now that she no longer needed to shake off her far too stubborn pursuers.

Keeping the fight – and the subsequent chase – realistic was one thing, but this? Nebula scowled at her left arm as it hung limply at her side, only held together by a few wires. Useless. As if her escape wouldn’t have been difficult enough with two arms. Nebula could somewhat forgive herself for letting Gamora land a lucky hit, seeing as she not only had had to fend off her, but also three of her annoying friends.

Nebula threw a scathing glare to the silver orb she had carelessly thrown in the passenger seat. “This is all your fault.”

The power stone did not answer, and Nebula let out another groan. The pain receptors of her cybernetic arm were still working, and would continue to set her limb on fire until she managed to repair it. With only minimal resources and materials, and the ever present threat of either Thanos, her sister or bounty hunters catching up to her. How wonderful.

At least this time, Nebula already knew her next destination. No more of the pointless, tedious process of information gathering.

That was… Nebula paused. Originally, she had planned to set course to Terra as soon as she could get her hands on the power stone. She had no way to obtain the soul stone as well, and as far as she knew most, if not all of the remaining infinity stones were on Terra. As was Stark.

Then again, perhaps there was one more thing Nebula could take care off.

Ignoring the sparks of her cybernetic limb on her left and the power stone lying on her right, Nebula punched in the coordinates she could only hope she remembered correctly.

“What the fuck, Gamora?!” Gamora finished tying the bandage around Peter’s leg harsher than what was strictly necessary. “Ouch! What was that for?!”

“Don’t make it sound like this was my fault.”

“It’s your sister, so it’s your problem.” Rocket scowled, spraying disinfectant on a couple of Gamora’s cuts. It stung.

She snatched the bottle away from him. “It’s our problem now. So suck it up and set our course. We have to follow her while her trail is still fresh.”

“Whatever. Remind me again why I gave this whole team thing a go?” Rocket kept grumbling under his breath, even as he entered the cockpit to follow Gamora’s instructions.

They’d already left Xandar behind, having snatched up their stuff in a hurry after the fight was over, just in time before members of the Nova Corps had tried to take them in. As if anything of what had happened had been their fault.

Certainly not the broken fountain. Or the collapsed building.

“Do you want to get the stone back or not?” Gamora yelled after Rocket, just in case he changed his mind halfway through.

“Yeah, yeah! I got it.”

“Your sister is truly as violent and feral as her upbringing suggests.”

“Thanks, Drax,” Gamora said.

Drax paused at her dry tone. “That is not to say you are like her. Although you are, as well, one of the deadliest and most ferocious people I know.”

“Yeah well, at least Gamora doesn’t have those freaky arm thingies,” Peter said. “Did you see the way it bended back into shape after Rocket fired a blast at it? Gross!”

“They’re cybernetic enhancements,” Gamora corrected. “And it’s not just her arm. It’s her whole body.”

Peter shuddered. “Freaky.”

“Thanos gave them to her,” Gamora said. Her tone had grown quiet. “Every time I would beat her in battle, he would modify her body to make her stronger. And I would win again. And again. And again.”

There was silence.

“Sounds like some childhood,” Peter muttered.

It took Gamora aback how disturbed he sounded. Thinking back, it must have been quite cruel, although she had never seen it as such. It had simply been their reality, another obstacle to clear in order to survive another day.

“Yeah,” she said. “I suppose it was.”

“If you’re done with your little heart to heart back there,” Rocket yelled from the front, “I’m gonna speed up the engines soon. If you’re not buckled up by then, I’m not scrapping you off the windshield.”

They sat in silence for another moment.

“Alright.” Gamora stood, offering Peter a hand and pulling him to his feet. He’d suffered a leg injury during their fight, painful, but not major.

Next to them, Drax had already secured Groot’s branch.

“Let’s hunt down Nebula and get the power stone back.” There was no way she was letting it fall into Thanos’ hands. Nebula could deliver it to him over Gamora’s cold, dead body.

Chapter Text

Considering he’d had to dodge confrontations left and right since coming back, Tony was somewhat surprised he’d managed to keep the others off his back as long as he had. The trick, once he could tell that one of them was about to ask uncomfortable questions, was to drop another bomb before they could do so.

Natasha walked towards him with just a bit too much purpose and an expression that would make stone look expressive? Lucky then that Tony had just the news about her HYDRA-infested employers to distract her.

Bruce’s silence was more pronounced than usual, and he looked at Tony in that guarded, careful way that suggested he was about to breach a delicate topic? Tony dragged him off into the lab to work on their containment unit for the mind stone. They didn’t want to risk blowing up the tower because they slacked off, now did they?

Steve tracked him down after bringing home Bucky, his brows set in a stubborn line that demanded answers? Oh, hadn’t he heard? Tony had exactly the treatment he needed to fix the jigsaw puzzle that was his bestie’s mental state.

And, surprisingly, it had worked for the past several weeks. Enough time for Tony to gather at least some of the key players in the tower for one big debriefing. They wanted answers? Well, they’d get them – minus the whole Tony being secretly a time traveller bit, obviously.

All of the original Avengers were already together, as well as Bucky – although he wasn’t exactly in a state to participate just yet. Pepper and Rhodey were there, naturally, and while he hadn’t convinced Hope Pym to make an appearance herself, she had at least agreed to take a look at the transcript after the meeting was over.

The biggest – but pleasant – surprise was that T’Challa had come. After relistening to that very first phone call, Tony had admittedly had his doubts.

He’d had less luck with some of the others. Like Strange, who probably thought he was mental after accusing him of sorcery before he had actually gotten his powers. Or Falcon, who had straight up hung up the call when Tony’d tried to invite him. (He would just send Cap over to do it for him.)

Oh well. He would get the rest of them together eventually. For now, there was some catching up to do.

“Alright,” he said, somewhat unnecessarily as the room was already dead silent. “Let’s get this started.”

His eyes fell on the ten year old girl in their midst. “Erm.” He may have possibly failed to think this through entirely. “Right. Princess Shuri, did you have a look around the tower yet?”

“Not yet,” Shuri said, carefully pronouncing each word. “JARVIS brought us here right after we landed.”

“So you’ve met JARVIS?”

Her mouth broke into a grin. “He is amazing! We talked to him in the elevator.”

Tony matched her grin. JARVIS was pretty amazing.

“The pleasure was mine, Princess,” JARVIS said.

“Great,” Tony said. “Okay. You’re welcome to chat some more with JARVIS upstairs, if you’d like. Unless you insist to stay with your brother, in that case–”

Shuri was already on her way to the elevator. “Can you tell me more about you, JARVIS?”

“Certainly, Princess. It would be my pleasure.”

Okoye took a step to follow her, but paused at T’Challa’s alarmed voice. “Okoye–”

“Yes, your Highness?” Okoye said, her expression stoic and professional. Some sort of silent communication seemed to pass between them.

“... Nothing,” T’Challa said. “Take care of her.”

“Of course, Highness.” Okoye nodded somewhat stiffly and followed Shuri into the elevator. Then they were gone.

“Okay,” Tony said, again. “So. There’s a lot to catch up on and we’re already behind, so try to keep up and raise your hand if I’ve lost you. Let’s go.”

After all, there was about a decade’s worth of issues and problems they had to catch up on – or, alternatively, get ahead of. They weren’t about to be caught unprepared a second time if Tony could help it.

T'Challa was lost within the first five minutes. He did not, however, raise his hand like a child who struggled to follow the day's lesson at pre-school. He kept his face stoic and his expression calm even after Okoye had left him behind in a situation that he absolutely had not consented to.

The others must have been clued in, because none of them showed even a hint of the confusion T'Challa felt. It was just another reason to hide his lack of knowledge. He would not disgrace his father by appearing as a bumbling fool who did not know what he was doing.

Stark was still talking.

"–upstairs now, but we've already interrogated him once. We'll ask more questions when they come up, right now he's the only source we have that’s directly linked to the enemy."

T'Challa mentally rewound the past few minutes of Stark's monologue. "You are talking about Loki," he said, hoping that he had misheard. "The man who lead the invasion to conquer the Earth a few weeks ago. And he is here. In the tower."

"Well, duh," Stark said. "We can't exactly keep him in a regular prison, can we? Where else to keep an eye on him than the home of half a dozen superheroes?"

Well, if he put it like that. T'Challa looked around the table and found no protest, which had to mean that everybody else had already known. Or else saw no reason for concern.

He gave a hesitant nod. "Of course. Please proceed."

T'Challa reminded himself that these were the people who had defeated Loki in the first place. They had to know what they were doing.

Steve did not know what he was doing.

The 21st century was very much a double edged sword. It brought him things like robots, the internet and medicine for diseases that had been untreatable in his time.

Other times, he sat in a room with Tony Stark and listened to sentences like "We managed to fend off the first alien invasion only barely. We have to make sure that we’re prepared by the time the next one rolls up.”

The next one. Like it wasn't a hunch, or even a likely prediction, but a fact that the next alien army was waiting around the corner. Was this what the 21st century was like? The eradication of smallpox in exchange for the ever looming threat of an alien invasion on Earth?

A glance towards his fellow Avengers suggested that yes, this was, indeed, a completely natural occurrence. None of them looked disturbed or even surprised at any of what Tony was saying. And yes, Tony had encouraged them to ask questions at the beginning, but everybody else could follow the conversation easily. The smart choice for Steve was to sit it out and not disrupt the meeting with his lack of context.

"Just to be clear, this doesn’t mean we’re ditching our missions to clear out HYDRA bases. We still have a pair of potentially traumatized and superpowered kids to pick up."

Steve desperately tried to keep the neutral expression on his face. He found comfort in the fact that if Tony said something truly concerning – concerning for their standards – the other Avengers would be there to call him out on it in his stead.

Clint threw a subtle glance at Natasha for the sixth time in half as many minutes. Her answer was the same as the five times before it: an almost imperceptible glare that roughly translated to “Stay professional and keep your face blank, or so help me I will come over there and strangle you.”

Clint was paraphrasing.

A few feet away from them, Tony Stark was dropping more intel on HYDRA – and, as a result, SHIELD; hadn’t that been just a pleasure to learn about? – than they assumed even Nick Fury would be capable of.

Since the alternative was Fury being an infiltrator rather than one of the agents being run over by them, this once Clint prayed to everything that meant something to him that his boss had been oblivious. That all of his colleagues had, the few that he genuinely trusted and cared about.

“Fury’s been quiet so far,” Tony said as if he had read Clint’s thoughts. “I thought he’d want to stick his nose into this whole mess for sure.”

"Fury has more important things to worry about," Natasha said, managing to keep a straight face while lying through her teeth. "That's why we’re here."

Yes, that's what they were here for: to keep an eye on Tony while sprouting Oscar-worthy bullshit that made them sound superior and like they knew exactly what was going on. All of it to distract from the fact that Fury was frantically trying to clean up after the mess that was half of his organization turning out to be neo-nazis.

They couldn’t let anyone find out just how badly all of them had been shaken up. So, if that meant Natasha and Clint had to listen to rants about aliens, magical rocks and space dictators while keeping a straight face? Well, that was just what their lives had become.

Bruce should have stayed in India. He'd always known that leaving behind his self-induced isolation would mean trouble, and being dragged back to the States in time for an alien invasion and – apparently – the next one on its way? Yeah, that just proved his point marvellously.

Bruce wondered if anybody would seriously try to stop him from going back. Going by what sounded like a minimum of five potential worldwide catastrophes that Tony was spelling out for them, people had to be far too busy to waste a thought on him.

"Oh, and before I forget. Bruce, remind me to let you look over the statement I'm gonna release to the press. It’s about time we’re getting Ross fired."

Tony had almost moved on by the time Bruce's brain had caught up to what he had just said. "Wait. What was that?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I've been digging up dirt on him and leaking it all over the internet. We could wait for it to become public, but I'd rather speed it all up. No clue how he still has his job, but it's not gonna be for much longer if I've got anything to say about it."

Bruce leaned back in his seat, stunned. For Tony, apparently, that spelled the end of that topic. He went on to continue the briefing like he hadn't just revealed that he'd been working on dethroning the man who had made Bruce's life a living hell for more than a decade.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to stay with Tony, even if it meant having to deal with all of the baggage that came with it. Even if that baggage came in the form of an alien army, or several.

Roughly two hours later, Tony marched out of the conference room feeling light and surprisingly content. The meeting had gone a lot more smoothly than he had dared to hope. He’d prepared himself for disbelief, for panic and perhaps even hostility. He'd tried and failed to get himself and his team ready for the nearing threat once already, and he’d had no reason to believe that a few years headstart and more knowledge would make a difference in getting them on his side.

But now? He'd spilled most of the information that he had – the basics of it, at least – and there'd been no freak outs, no irrelevant questions or accusations. Tony must have underestimated his team. Everybody was focused on what needed to be done, they finally had a common goal to work towards!

Tony could work with this. He hadn't expected everybody to be doing so well, but who was he to question it? At the rate things were going, they'd be a force to be reckoned with by the time Thanos dared to show his ugly mug again.

As complex as JARVIS' existence seemed to an outsider, technically speaking his programming was rather simple. As a learning program he had been created to observe and interact with his surroundings, draw logical conclusions from his findings and evolve from them.

As such, drawing from the data he had collected over the span of a few weeks, JARVIS had concluded that his creator had told him the truth. Tony Stark was, in fact, a time traveller, rather than in need of an extended visit in a mental institution.

It was highly improbable for anybody without his near limitless insight in Mr. Stark's personal life to come to the same conclusion. Therefore, JARVIS' expectations were proven right when none of his guests seemed to quite know what to do after Mr. Stark had left the conference room.

Two notable exceptions were Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts, who hurried after Mr. Stark as soon as he had left the room himself. JARVIS followed their progress through the tower, while also keeping an eye on the group settled in the conference room.

None of them spoke for exactly 1.32 minutes.

"... So," Captain Rogers said, exchanging neutral looks around the table. "That was... informative."

"Indeed," Prince T'Challa said, clearing his throat. "Quite... eye-opening."

There was a pause.

Agent Barton deliberately looked at Rogers. "It wasn't too quick for you, was it–”

"What?" Rogers said. "No, of course not!"

"–too little context, maybe a bit much for–”

"Oh, you wouldn't believe the kind of things I've seen in my days."

"Nor I on Asgard," Thor said.

"Or in Wakanda," T'Challa added.

There was a pause.

"Right," Steve said. "I suppose if we're all on the same page–”

"We are," Natasha said.

"Definitely," Clint said. "All caught up."

"–I guess we'll see each other... soon."

"Right."

"Hmm."

There was a pause.

"I gotta–”

"My sister will be–”

"–waiting, so I should–”

“–have to report to SHIELD."

All of them proceeded to leave the room in various states of urgency.

JARVIS processed the recorded data in order to determine his next course of action. Mr. Stark’s guests were clearly missing a massive amount of context, but unwilling to expose themselves to each other. It could prove beneficial to inform Mr. Stark of the fact.

Previous experiences contradicted this. JARVIS reviewed the relevant footage.

"Sir, are you aware that Sergeant Barnes–”

"Yup. Already on it."

"Sir, I feel like you should know that Director Fury has been–”

"Already do. Thanks, bud."

"Sir, it would appear that–”

"Got it. No worry, J."

JARVIS was programmed to be useful, not to point out information that Mr. Stark already possessed.

He concluded that the probability of Mr. Stark knowing was higher than him being oblivious. As such, JARVIS decided to stay silent unless asked otherwise, or unless Mr. Stark’s potential lack of knowledge became a genuine threat.

Chapter Text

Nebula shut down the engines as soon as Ego’s planet was within sight. The journey hadn't been short, but now that she had arrived she found that something was holding her back. It wasn't fear. Nebula did not fear for her life. With the power stone in her possession, only few things in the universe were a genuine threat.

Perhaps it was Mantis. Out of all of the Guardians, she had been the least insufferable, and killing Ego while Mantis was still with him would almost definitely result in her death. That was easily fixed. Nebula could just make a detour to the planet's surface and pick her up before blowing it to smithereens.

And yet, it still didn't feel right.

Nebula growled, cursing her stupid, useless sentimentalities. Wonderful. If she'd known that the “hero” morality complex was contagious, she would have stayed far, far away from all of them.

Whatever. She punched the buttons on her console that would let her establish a video link with the Milano. She would clear her treacherous conscience by warning Quill, rather than kill Ego right away.

If nothing else, he and the rest of the Guardians could serve as a distraction for Ego to shoot at while she took care of the rest.

“How does she keep contacting us?!” Peter yelled, scowling at the console as it announced an incoming call.

Gamora shouted back from the other side of the cockpit. “I don’t know, okay?!”

“Forget the how.” Rocket scowled, bowed over the controls for their sensors. “Better question is why she’s doing it. She knows we’re after her hide, so why would she announce herself like this?”

“Who knows what goes on in her head,” Peter said, “she’s crazy. No offense, Gamora.”

Gamora ignored him. “What are you waiting for? Accept the call already.”

“Really? We’re still doing this? Why do we keep talking to her when we should be chasing her instead?”

“We still are,” Gamora said, frowning. “Would you rather she show up without a warning next time?”

Peter grumbled under his breath, but opened their communication channel.

Surprisingly, Nebula did not open with an insult and/or complaint about how long it had taken them to answer. She did nothing besides shift awkwardly in front of the camera, avoiding to look directly into it.

"Nebula," Gamora said when the silence had gone on long enough. She saw Peter and Rocket exchanging uneasy looks further in the back. "What do you want?"

"... There is something I need to tell you."

"Okay," Gamora said, frowning. "Spit it out."

"Not you. Quill."

Gamora blinked. She looked behind her, meeting Peter's stunned expression. When he didn't move, she whispered, "What are you waiting for?"

"What?!" he whispered back – if one could call what he was doing 'whispering'. "I don't want to talk to her!"

"Rocket might be able to track her if you stall her for long enough!"

"What am I even supposed to say? What could she possibly want from me?"

"Just get over there!"

She grabbed Peter’s jacket before he could complain and hauled him in front of the monitor. He struggled, but couldn't compete against Gamora's strength.

"H-Hey, Nebula! You look... healthy? A lot less psychotic than usual. Um. So... Slit anyone's throat lately?"

Gamora resisted the urge to groan. Nebula, in a similar fashion, ignored Peter's words entirely.

"Listen, Quill. I am only going to tell you once." She paused, her lips curling as if she wasn't sure how to put the sentence into words. "Sometimes... you have to kill the person who is your father. Because he is insane. And plans to destroy large parts of the known universe."

Gamora blinked. Peter did, too, his nose scrunched up in disbelief. “Um. What.”

“You heard me,” Nebula said, still glowering into the camera. “I mean.” She growled, then closed her eyes as if trying to calm herself. “I meant to say, that there is no shame in that. He deserves to die, and you should not feel conflicted about pursuing that goal.”

“Right,” Peter said, staring at the monitor. “Okay. What are we talking about, again?”

“Just get over here,” she snapped, and the computer let out a beep as it displayed a set of coordinates. “I will see you there.”

The call cut off, and the cockpit fell silent.

“What the fuck,” Peter said, perfectly putting into words what all of them must have been thinking.

“It’s a trap,” Gamora said.

“Well, obviously! But what did she mean? Someone’s insane father? Planning to destroy large parts of the universe? She must have been talking about Thanos. What do I have to do with your crazy adoptive titan father?”

“Maybe she wasn’t talking about him,” Rocket said. “Isn’t your dad a criminal?”

“Yondu isn’t my dad! And he’s not crazy.” Peter paused. “Well. Maybe a little. But I’m pretty sure he’s not planning to destroy the universe.”

Drax looked at Peter gravely. “Perhaps you have not known your father as well as you thought.”

“He’s not my dad! Besides, I would have noticed him wanting to destroy the universe. Wouldn't I?"

"Who else could she have meant?" Nebula had been ridiculously specific. An insane father figure planning to cause destruction and suffering throughout the universe? Who else could she have meant but Thanos?

"Perhaps it was a metaphor," Drax said.

Multiple incredulous glances swayed his way.

"A metaphor for what ?" Rocket said.

"Does it matter?" Gamora asked. "We know where she is. It is most likely a trap, yes, but is that enough to stop us? It might be weeks until we get another chance."

"I don't know why you're so obsessed trying to make sense of her, anyway," Rocket muttered, putting the coordinates into their ship's navigation system. "She's crazy, so why bother?"

Ego awaited Nebula as soon as her ship touched the surface of his planet. Most likely he had seen (sensed?) her coming before she had even breached the atmosphere. Mantis stood behind him anxiously and quiet, the perfect servant for the maniac who had raised her.

"Who are you?" Ego asked as she stepped out of her ship. "How have you found this planet?"

"I have been looking for you," Nebula said, opting to tell truths and half-truths rather than outright lie.

"You know me?" Ego said, sounding almost bored. Like no mere mortal could hold his attention. Arrogant moron, thinking himself above everyone else.

"As much as I need to know. More importantly, I know Yondu."

Ego's expression changed instantly. "Are you part of his crew?" he asked, his body tense like he was prepared to slaughter Nebula if her answer did not please him. Behind him, Mantis cowered in fear.

"I'm not," Nebula said. "But I know what he has done. His task was to deliver you your son, and instead he kept him for himself. I assure you that he has paid dearly for his crime." In fact, he had died for it. In another reality, where Ego had soon followed.

Ego stiffened. "And what about my son? Was he with the traitor this whole time?"

"He was. But he is on his way, in his own spaceship. Check the perimeter around the planet, he should be close enough for your sensors to pick up."

A pause. Ego's expression was carefully neutral, and Nebula didn't doubt that she would die the second Ego figured out her plan. "If what you say is true, you have done me a great deed." It went unspoken what would happen otherwise.

"See for yourself. If he is not within range yet, he will be soon."

Ego nodded. "Mantis. Please show our... guest, to our home."

"As you wish," Mantis said, her obedient bow overlooked as Ego strode away without waiting for them to follow.

There was not much time.

"Mantis," Nebula said, planting her feet and forcing Mantis to come to a halt as well. "There is something you need to know. There is not much time."

Mantis looked at her with wide, confused eyes. "Not much time? For what?”

"Use your powers on me," Nebula said. "To determine that I am speaking the truth. Quick."

"My– My powers?"

"Quick!" Nebula snapped, and ignored the way Mantis flinched. She would thank her for it later.

Her antennas lit up as Mantis took Nebula's hand. Her eyes fell closed. "You feel... determination. And anger. Hatred. So much hatred, constantly. Against..." She tensed, her brows knitting up in a frown. Her voice lowered into a whisper. "Against Ego. Why have you come?"

"I am here to kill him," Nebula said, and grasped Mantis' hand tighter when she tried to snatch it away with a gasp.

"You– You want to–”

"You need to stay calm."

"You are planning to–”

"Stay. Calm."

"But you can't!" Mantis shook her head frantically, straining against Nebula's grip. "Ego is too strong!"

"Mantis!" Nebula snapped. "You need to calm down!" She should have just knocked her out and taken her on her ship while she was unconscious.

"You don't understand!" Mantis no longer struggled to be released. "Ego is this planet. He knows everything that happens on it. He will already know that you lied! He will be on his way!"

Nebula let out a growl. The chattering grated on her nerves. "I know. I know he's strong, and I know that he can be beaten." She paused, and for once Mantis didn't try to disagree. Her grip around Nebula's hand was tight enough to hurt. "Besides, I didn't lie. Backup is coming."

"I freaking told you it was a trap!" Rocket screamed, swaying sideways and preventing their ship from being shot out of the sky. "And who didn’t listen?! All of you clowns, that’s who!"

"We all knew it was a trap!" Gamora yelled back. She clutched her seat so she wouldn't be hurled out of it. "We all agreed to go anyway. Stop moping and keep dodging!"

"It's coming from the planet," Peter interrupted. He grunted as the Milano shook from an impact. "It's not from another ship."

"If it's not Nebula, why are they shooting?!"

Static crackled through the air as their monitor flipped on. Before any of them could react, a voice flickered out of it, deep and menacing. "Did you honestly think your little trick would fool me?"

"What the–”

"Your accomplice is about to die. A fool’s plan, sending her ahead to try and deceive me.” The voice paused. “I don't know how you knew about Yondu, or what he was tasked to do for me. But you will pay for the lie." The monitor shut off as sudden as it had turned on, leaving them none the wiser.

"What is going on?!" Peter said, just before the attacks on their ship doubled and they no longer had the time to wonder.

When they miraculously managed to land their ship without being blasted into a million pieces, it was to find Nebula fighting off a monstrous parody of a human being. As they watched, the part of his (?) body that was hit by Nebula's blasters melted away into pure light and reformed layer by layer, bones, organs and muscle tissue open for them to see.

"What the hell is that?!" Peter yelled, eyes wide and horrified, giving away their position.

"What took you so long?!" Nebula shouted at the same time that the creature froze. He turned, his eyes zooming in on Peter. By now he looked like a regular man, but it was too late. They’d all seen that he was anything but.

"No," he muttered. "That power..."

"What are you standing there for?!" Nebula shouted. "Attack him already!"

The creature ignored her. "Peter... Is that you? It must be. I thought she was lying, but you’re here! Yondu has kept us apart for too long. Now that you have arrived, our time has come!”

Peter took a step back. Gamora couldn’t blame him; in his place, she would have been freaked out, too. "How do you know my name? Guys, why does the creepy fake human know my name?"

The creepy fake human took a step towards them, but stopped when all of them pointed their weapons at him simultaneously. "How could I not know your name? You’re mine!”

“Woah, Mister,” Peter said, tense and subconsciously stepping closer to Gamora. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, and quite frankly, I don’t–”

“I’m your father,” the creature interrupted. “Peter. You’re home.”

Gamora took in a sharp breath. Her eyes flickered towards Peter, who'd gone rigid at the revelation.

"My– You're not– What?"

"My name is Ego," the creature said. "And your mother's name was Meredith. She was Terra’s most beautiful flower. My river lily.”

Gamora's hand twitched around the handle of her sword. "Peter. Peter, what do we do?"

Peter's eyes stayed glued to Ego. "He knows my mom’s name. How can he know her name?"

"I know this is a lot to take in, but I've waited so long for this moment," Ego said. "Join me, like you should have done years ago. Stand with me, side by side, father and son."

"Peter!" Gamora called. "What do we do?!"

"They're all beneath us," Ego continued. "You're a Celestial, you're so much more! Come with me, and I can show you what your heritage means."

"My heritage," Peter said, and to Gamora's alarm, she heard something akin to longing in his voice. The dazed look vanished from his eyes as quickly as it had come. "Wait. 'Beneath us'? What do you mean, 'beneath us'?"

"Nevermind that," Ego said. "It will all make sense if you just let me–”

“Are you listening to him?!” Nebula screamed, disbelief heavy in her voice. “He is the enemy! He conquers planets to fulfill his god complex!”

Drax pointed an accusing finger on Ego. “So he is the one who is insane and plans to destroy large parts of the known universe! I understand the metaphor now!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ego said. “The Expansion isn’t destruction. It is a new beginning.”

"No way," Peter said, his disbelief slowly blooming into horror. "She's right."

"Peter–”

"Nebula is right." Peter's expression crumbled, and Gamora was sickeningly glad for it. "My dad is a maniac."

Ego dropped his ecstatic facade and revealed the fury underneath. "Careful, boy."

"Are you done now?!" Nebula yelled. “Fight him already! And don’t let down your guard. This planet is all him.”

"I've just about had it with you, insect," Ego snapped. One hand gesture and a massive, glowing vine shot out of the earth, lurching for Nebula.

"I've seen enough," Peter screamed, and fired the first blast towards Ego. The rest of them followed, drew their weapons and charged.

"What are you doing?! Stop messing around and aim for his head! For his head!"

"I already did! He regrew his freaking head!"

"Let's try– Woah! Careful where you're waving that thing around! Let's try his heart? Does he even have a heart?"

"Rocket! Rocket, get over here! Do you still have your grenades?"

"What do you want me to do with them?! Quill blasted his head off and it grew right back!"

"I know, but maybe if we–”

"What the–! Is he moving the ground right now?!"

"Didn't Nebula say something about him controlling the planet?"

“She said he is the planet."

"Great. I'm finally getting to know my dad and it turns out that he's not even an alien, he's a freaking planet! Woah! And trying to kill us!"

“Turns out that Gamora’s family isn’t the only one that’s completely nuts.”

"... Hey. Where is Nebula?"

"..."

"..."

"I hate your sister so much."

"Why have we fled?" Mantis asked, trailing after Nebula into her spaceship. "Your friends, they will die if they stay!"

"It's fine," Nebula said distractedly, already reaching for the orb that contained the power stone.

"It is... fine? But your friends–”

"They're not my friends. And I have this," Nebula said, holding out the orb. "Even Ego will not survive if his planet is obliterated."

"But your f–” Mantis cut herself off. "But the others. What about them?"

"I will send my sister a message. They will have two minutes to leave the planet before I will blow it to pieces." Two minutes was plenty of time. They would be fine. Probably.

"How does it work?" Mantis asked.

Nebula opened her mouth to answer. Then she froze. Oh no.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

"... I need a weapon to fuse it with," Nebula said, her mind racing. The spaceship? Useless. No weaponry, a pure transport vessel. Any of the weapons aboard? A sword wouldn't work. Neither would daggers. Nebula needed something to shoot with.

"Ego will notice that we have left," Mantis whispered, her eyes fixed on the planet before them. "There will be no escape."

Nebula barely listened. There had to be something, something on board, something she could use.

She paused and looked at the silvery orb in her hand. Perhaps...

"Mantis," she said, "what I am about to do will either gain us victory or burn my body to ash. Listen carefully."

Even with the girl's warning (Mantis, or whatever she was called) – graciously delivered in the middle of their battle and not at all distracting, thank you very much – Gamora and her team almost didn't make it off the planet before a purple energy beam hit its surface, burned through to its very core and made it fall apart within seconds.

"I can't believe she tried to kill us. Again!" Peter said, tossing away his weapons and sinking into the nearest chair like he didn't plan to get up within the next few hours.

Gamora pulled out Groot from his secure place in one of their storage units, which left Rocket to set their ship’s course. Drax was already snoring, having dropped as soon as they'd taken off from Ego's remains.

"I can't believe you're still surprised," Rocket said, heading towards the console after quickly checking on Groot. He'd slept through the entire thing, and if they could believe Rocket's words, it wouldn't be much longer until he would leave his pot. "I also can't believe we fell for it. Again. Played right into her hands and almost let her blow us up, some Guardians we are."

"Aren't we gonna talk about her figuring out how to use the power stone?" Peter asked. "Cause I don't know about you, but I think that's kind of worth talking about. And maybe panicking."

"She didn't lure us, she used us as bait. Tried to wipe out two enemies at once, why did we answer her call in the first place?"

"Ronan was bad enough, but what's Nebula gonna do with the stone? Even worse if she manages to bring it to Thanos–”

"Be quiet, both of you!" Gamora hissed. The only reason she wasn’t yelling was Groot still sleeping in her lap.

"Oh yeah? I'm not seeing you make any suggestions."

"Lock onto her energy signature. Set our course to follow her trail. She's not getting another chance to finish the job, because we'll hunt her down before it happens."

Gamora'd had enough. Her sister wouldn't flaunt her new found power in her face any longer, and she most definitely wouldn't manage to bring it to Thanos. Gamora had lost enough at the hands of her father, and she would not let her sister take the power to destroy what she had left.

Nebula could not take her eyes off of her cybernetic arm. The foreign power flowed through it like it belonged to her, coursed through machinery and seeped into her body from there. It buzzed with power, the purple energy merging with her rather than threatening to tear her body appart. Ego had never stood a chance.

"Where will we go now?" Mantis asked, tucked away in the seat next to Nebula like she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

"A friend," Nebula said, and paused. Her arm hummed with the power of the infinity stone. "Perhaps we will have one more destination."

Because while she couldn't take it from Vormir, even the soul stone would not survive the full might of its sister.

Chapter Text

“Sir,” JARVIS said, dragging Tony out of his thoughts right after he’d managed to shake off Rhodey and Pepper. “Your presence is required in the common area.”

That sentence had no right sounding as ominous as it did. With Loki inhabiting the same building, it had sadly become somewhat of a routine.

“JARVIS, please tell me that somebody didn’t start a fight while I was gone.”

“Not yet, Sir. Mr. Odinson seems to have started a conversation with Princess Shuri.”

That sentences managed to be the exact opposite of reassuring. Tony was almost running by the time he reached the common room and heard Shuri’s voice carry through the doorway. “So, the blond man, Thor. He is your brother?”

Tony froze. If there was one topic that should never, ever be breached in front of Loki, it was his family. (And how anyone could have a family as dysfunctional and weird as those two… Well, Norse Mythology was like that for a reason.) The few times that Tony had tried, he’d almost paid for it with another attempt at forceful defenestration.

So, if his guest of roughly ten years was about to fall victim to the same pitfall? One could say that it made Tony somewhat alarmed. He practically sprinted into the room, sliding over the sleek floor and barely catching himself on a nearby counter, ready to blast Loki himself in case his Iron Guard didn’t–

Huh. Or not.

“It is complicated,” Loki said, sprawled in a nearby chair and not sporting a hint of the mild annoyance to major psychopathic rage Tony had expected. “While we have grown up together, I would not hesitate to thrust a dagger into his heart if he dared to step close enough.”

Shuri nodded along as if he’d said something very wise. “I get that. T’Challa and I argue sometimes, too.”

Perhaps Tony should count himself lucky that T’Challa wasn’t there to listen to any of that. Okoye was bad enough: She sat closely next to Shuri – shielding her from Loki – her face an almost comical mask of forced stoicism.

“Alright,” Tony said, capturing the attention of everyone in the room before things could escalate further. “Apologies for the wait, but since I’m here now–”

“What a shame,” Loki said, cutting him off. “And I had just found a conversation partner worthy of my attention.”

Shuri’s grin made it almost impossible to feel offended. “Right,” Tony said, “I’m sure there’s gonna be plenty of opportunity for you two to… bond.”

If her brother let it happen. Not to mention her guard, who emitted severe overprotective vibes to anyone so much as looking into Shuri’s direction.

Tony paused, realizing that Shuri was fiddling with something in her lap. He hadn’t realized he’d left it lying around the penthouse.

“What do you think?” he said, nodding towards the piece of machinery in Shuri’s hands.

It was somewhat of a pet project of Tony’s. Ideally, he’d intended it to serve as replacement for Cap’s shield, after seeing the broken original featured in his nightmares one time too many. He’d wanted to build a version of it that Steve could wear as a bracelet and summon at will – a goal far easier said than achieved.

Tony had built the first prototype with the same nano tech he’d used for his suit, but quickly realized that it wouldn’t work for Steve. The shield wouldn’t have bounced in the way he was used to, and instead of protecting him it would have thrown off his fighting style immensely.

The project wasn’t a priority, and Tony had never quite managed to figure out the right composition.

Shuri sported a sheepish but unapologetic expression at being caught meddling with his technology. “It’s…” she paused in a way that suggested she was doing her very best to be polite, “cute.”

Tony let out a snort. “Cute, huh? I guess I can live with that.”

“You are attempting to design a retractable shield, no?”

“In the most basic sense, yeah.”

Shuri nodded, tracing the smooth, metallic surface. “Our warriors carry similar devices. It is shielding technology, woven into fabric so one can wear it as a cloak. It is light and flexible enough to not constrict one’s movement, and can activate its shielding when in need of protection.”

“Really?” Tony found himself edging closer – as far as his seat would allow him without risking to fall over. “How does it work? Nano tech?”

Shuri shook her head. “No nano tech. Well, at least not entirely. It is more of a–”

“Princess,” Okoye interrupted, her voice brusque and clipped. “Perhaps Mr. Stark should explain what he came to tell us.”

Shuri blinked, but dropped the prototype on the table in front of her without complaint.

It was probably for the better. Tony itched to hear more about Wakandan technology – he’d never really had the time or the resources to do simply that – but Shuri had come dangerously close to spilling Wakandan secrets she was most likely not allowed to share.

“Right,” Tony said, swallowing the disappointment lingering in his gut. “Sorry about that.”

“Why are we here?” Okoye asked. Her eyes, previously glaring daggers at Tony, swayed to pin down Loki instead. “And whatever it is for, shouldn’t he be taken elsewhere for it?”

“As a matter of fact, no. I’m afraid we’ll need him.” Tony paused, considering. “I’ve already given everybody else the long version, so I’ll try to keep it short this time. You’ve heard about the alien invasion a few weeks ago.”

“It was somewhat difficult to miss,” Okoye said drily.

No surprises there. An alien invasion was an alien invasion, even if it took place on an entirely different continent. “Yeah, well. What the news channels don’t know is that it wasn’t a one time stunt.”

Dead silence followed his declaration. Aside from Loki, who looked into the distance with an indiscernible expression, all eyes were fixed on him.

It was Shuri who ended up breaking the tension. “Do you mean to say that it might happen again?”

“It will,” Tony said, all fun and jokes gone from his voice. “There’s no doubt about it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Okoye asked. “We are talking about beings from another world. How could you possibly know what they are planning?”

“Well,” Tony started, trying and failing to come up with a mild way to phrase the following sentence. He gave up after a few beats, opting to get it out quickly instead. “I’m not sure if it came up before, and if it did it might have gotten buried in the general chaos of… well, everything. Anyway, what I meant to say was, and please give me the chance to explain, I can assure you that he doesn’t pose a threat as long as I’m here–”

“He’s the one who lead the invasion,” Okoye interrupted in quite possibly the bluntest and least favorable way imaginable. “I remember him from the reports.”

Tony found himself considering whether it was a good or a bad thing that T’Challa was not currently present. “Right,” Tony said. “Yeah. Would it help to point out that he’s on our side now? Kind of?”

“Why is he here,” Okoye asked, “and not contained in a cell?”

“Well. First of all, there’s no place more secure than the tower that houses half a dozen superheroes. Especially if one of them is the Hulk. You know, the one who took out Loki before.” Tony paused, watching with glee as Loki shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. Of all the residents of the tower, Bruce was the only one who wasn’t constantly being mocked or provoked by Loki. “Second of all, we need him. He’s the only one capable of giving us information on the enemy.”

“Yes. Because he is one of them," Okoye scowled. “Who says he is not scheming against you right this moment?”

“If only you knew how strong the temptation is,” Loki said, as usual making everything worse. "If you must know, I am not exactly in my former master's favor." His expression grew tense. “I cannot go back to him, now that his plan has been foiled.”

Tony knew Thanos. He knew that Loki was telling the truth.

It didn’t make him like Loki – Tony doubted he ever would – but with Thanos entering the race, the scales had somewhat shifted. Compared to him, Loki felt much like the weird but ultimately harmless relative that showed up to family gatherings uninvited and who nobody could stand.

“I still do not understand why I am here,” Shuri said. “What do I have to do with an alien invasion?”

“You’re here to help me stop it,” Tony said. “To help us stop it. For lack of a better option, Loki will be our expert on anything Thanos and magic related.” Since, unfortunately, Strange was proving to be unreasonably stubborn about finally starting his wizard career. If only Tony knew what had lead him down that path, perhaps he would have been able to speed things up.

“I know a thing or two myself about the infinity stones,” Tony continued. “And you’re here as our expert on Vibranium. There’s nothing on Earth more advanced than your Wakandan technology.”

“There are many Wakandan scientists,” Okoye pointed out.

“I am still learning,” Shuri agreed. “Why me?”

Because she’d already gained Tony’s trust, he couldn’t say. Because she’d almost won them victory once before. “I kind of thought about you and your brother as a package deal,” was what he said out loud. “Besides, young minds tend to come up with the best ideas. Those that nobody else has had before. Ones I could never come up with.” Tony smiles. “Don’t worry. You’ll do brilliantly.”

Shuri looked pleased at the admission. Okoye, less so.

“You cannot expect us to believe that is all,” she said. “You have asked us to travel half the world to meet you here. There has to be more.”

Tony wanted to sigh. Explaining to her that he’d met Shuri before would mean having to explain about the time travel – something they didn’t have the time for, at the moment.

Not to mention the time it would take him to gain Okoye’s trust. He didn’t know the next thing about her – certainly not anything that would make her believe an outrageous claim as that.

As for his smaller, self-indulgent reason… Tony paused. It wouldn’t be responsible to act on a whim when there was already so much they needed to do. The whole operation was a stretch as it was, he didn’t have the time to indulge himself.

On the other hand, they had already gotten a lot out of the way. Tony was making progress rapidly, so maybe it would be enough. Maybe he could… Yeah, why not? He could afford this much.

Tony would make the time, now that Shuri was already there.

“So, I’ve got this kid,” Tony blurted out before he could second guess himself. “I think he and Shuri would get along splendidly.”

May shrugged off her jacket on her way into the apartment, trying to ignore the ache of a double shift in her feet. With her colleague calling in sick and another on vacation with his family, she’d been the first person in line to help out. Typical.

She sighed, cursing her chronically understaffed hospital and the people in charge who couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it.

“Peter!” she called, dropping her bag on the couch and herself beside it. “I’m home!”

A distracted mumble of "Yes, Aunt May" was her answer, in between muffled – but no less obnoxious – beeps and crashing noises that made May reconsider her decision to gift her nephew with a small gaming console for his birthday.

May had just started to consider her dinner options – take-out or instant meal? Perhaps she could call Ben and ask him to bring something on his way back from work – when the phone started to ring and made her suppress a groan.

She didn’t recognize the number on the display.

"May Parker, who's speaking?"

There were some muffled noises on the other end, but no answer.

"Hello?" May said, a frown on her face. "This is May. Is there–”

"Hello, Mrs. Parker!" The voice sounded male, out-of breath and oddly familiar. "So sorry. I was elsewhere, I've been trying to reach you for a while."

They'd taught Peter not to answer the phone when he was alone in the apartment. Good to know that their nephew actually listened to them.

"I was at the hospital," she said, somewhat curtly. "Who is this?"

"Right. Yeah, I could have thought of that," the man muttered. "Anyway! May Parker, such a pleasure to meet you. Well, kind of. I would have contacted you in person, but... well, this was easier. And less likely to end in ridiculous tabloid rumors."

May blinked. She took down the phone, looked at the screen, and didn't recognize the number any more than she had the first time around.

"Mrs. Parker?"

"Who are you?" May demanded. She was far too tired to be playing guessing games.

“Yeah, about that. I know that what I’m about to say will sound a bit weird, but I assure you that I'm not crazy and I'm telling you the truth. In retrospect, maybe I should have come in person, after all. Or maybe not. I wasn’t kidding about the tabloids.”

May contemplated hanging up the call and calling it a day.

"Anyway, long story short: You're speaking with Tony Stark – yes, that Tony Stark. Billionaire, inventor, part time superhero, you know the gist." The noise of him clearing his throat filtered through the phone line. "Anyway, this isn't about me. I'm thrilled to inform you that your nephew has been given an internship at Stark Industries!"

May blinked. She wouldn’t have known what to say, even if she’d been given the chance. The man who couldn't possibly be Tony Stark simply kept going.

"His achievements in school have impressed us greatly, and we will be ecstatic to welcome him–”

"He's ten," May interrupted. A pregnant silence followed.

"Yes," Stark – Tony Stark. Seriously? May was half convinced she'd fallen into an exhaustion-induced fever dream and was imagining everything – said, catching himself after losing his momentum. "Yes, of course. It's a, um... junior internship?"

May didn't dignify that statement with a response.

"... Science camp?"

"Science camp," May repeated, her dry tone making it impossible to ignore how ridiculous the words sounded.

Stark seemed to realize this, as there was uneasy shuffling and a drawn out “uhh” on the other line.

"So, have you been personally phoning every single kid you're inviting to this... science camp, Mr. Stark?"

"... Yes. There are obviously going to be other children. Because I know what I'm doing and I clearly thought this through."

By now, May was convinced she'd fallen into the twilight zone on her way home from work. If this was a prank call, it was a very, very good one. Stark's voice sounded exactly like it did on the TV – perhaps without the over the top showman quality to it.

"Okay, so there's... going to be a princess. She's ten too, I think. Somewhere in that age range."

May let the stony silence speak for itself.

"... One second. Hey, kid! Can you come– Woah, careful there! Don't touch that!"

A clatter and some frantic shuffling followed. At this point, May was pretty much staying on the line out of morbid curiosity.

Stark's voice returned sounding muffled and distant like he'd stepped away from the phone. "–can't just take apart other people's tech. At least ask first." He didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Kid, I could use your–”

Stark broke off in the middle of his sentence as someone interrupted him. May couldn't make it out, but it didn't sound like it came from a child.

"My apologies," Stark said. "I meant to say, your Royal Highness Princess Shuri. Of Wakanda."

A giggle, bright and childish. "Okoye doesn't like you."

"I don't think she likes anyone in this tower," Stark grumbled. "Besides you. Obviously."

May decided she'd been excluded from the conversation for long enough. "Mr. Stark–”

"Who's that?" the child – the girl? The princess ? – asked. She spoke with a thick, foreign accent May couldn't place.

"That's Mrs. Parker. She's the kid's aunt. The one I told you about? Please help me convince her that I'm not trying to kidnap her nephew or something."

"Mr. Stark is not trying to kidnap your nephew or something," Shuri parroted cheerfully. "Are you going to let us into your lab? JARVIS told me about your other AIs!"

May was fairly certain that the second part had not been meant for her.

"My lab, huh?" There was a pause. "Why not. But only," Stark raised his voice over the excited cheer his words had prompted, "only when I'm there, too. I'm not letting you play around with explosives. Not on your own."

"Why? Do you think I don't know how to handle them?"

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

May waited, then cleared her throat to show that she was, in fact, still on the line.

"Right! Okay. So, that was Shuri. She's Peter's age – you're ten, right?"

"You are so bad at this," Shuri replied.

"Oh, shush. Go talk some more with JARVIS. Or even better, convince Okoye to stop glaring at me like she’s planning my violent murder.”

"Good luck," Shuri said, and May couldn't tell from her voice alone whether she was saying it with a grin or throwing Stark a sympathetic glance.

There was silence that neither May nor Stark tried to breach.

"So," Stark said eventually, drawing out the word. "Just to throw it in, how are my chances of this actually succeeding?"

"..."

There was a sigh. "Okay, look. I'm sorry, I clearly didn't think this through."

"You could have fooled me," May said drily.

"I realize that this isn't the best of first impressions–”

May had to suppress a scoff.

"–but I swear that I have nothing but the best of intentions. Not just for Peter, but for... uh... kids. Smart kids. Like him."

May waited. Then, when nothing else followed, she said, "Is that all, Mr. Stark?"

"... Look, I'll send you a letter, okay? A proper invitation. With the details, and my contact information." His voice dropped down into a mutter. "Should have done that in the first place."

"I don't think–”

"You can expect it by tomorrow. It'll look marvelous for college applications, a great opportunity for–”

May did what she should have done minutes ago. She hung up the call.

To her utter surprise, that was not the last May would hear from Tony Stark. In fact, she only had to wait a single day to find the promised letter lying on their doormat.

She picked up the envelope warily, noting with bemusement the glossy quality of the paper. Stark must have gone all out with it: May caught herself hesitating to even touch the fancy (very, incredibly fancy) looking sheet of paper. Were those letters embossed?!

A block of contact information was printed below the bold statement of:

Invitation to Tony Stark's super awesome science camp for genius children.

Besides the invitation, the envelope contained a short, messily written note.

See? Told you I could do it properly. -TS

Chapter Text

May made the mistake of leaving the letter on the kitchen table in her hurry to make it in time for her next shift. She didn't think about it again during work, and by the time she returned, hours later, she wasn't thinking about anything other than putting up her feet and drinking a last cup of tea before falling into bed.

She was welcomed into their apartment by the excited chattering of her nephew.

"–is so cool! I can't believe this is happening!"

Oh no. Oh please, no.

"Way to go, buddy!" Ben said.

"I'm going to visit Stark Tower! I'm going to meet Iron Man! Do you think the Avengers will be there? Do you think–”

"Calm down." Ben laughed. He leaned forward to ruffle Peter's hair. "I wouldn't hold out to meet the Avengers, if I were you. Or Mr. Stark, for that matter. I'm sure they're busy people."

"I know," Peter said, his ecstatic smile dimming but not fading. It lit back up the second his eyes fell on May. "Aunt May! Guess what! I'm going to go to Stark Tower!"

"Are you now," May replied faintly, doing her very best to keep her voice steady.

"He's gotten an invitation from Tony Stark himself," Ben said, waving around the cursed letter with a proud beam. "I think it's like a summer camp."

"Ben," May said, trying not to sound too frantic, "a word–“

"Do you think there'll be many other kids?" Peter asked. "Do you think they'll let us see the Avengers' equipment? Oh! Aunt May! Guess what! Ned's coming too!"

May blinked. "Ned?"

"We just got off the phone," Ben explained, still that ecstatic smile on his face. "Apparently he's gotten an invitation, too. What are the chances?"

What were the chances, indeed.

In the end, May didn’t exactly have much of a choice. Since she hadn't found the time to tell Ben about the bizarre phone call, the invitation seemed nothing but legitimate to him. He didn’t have a care in the world, and, if anything, was just as thrilled as Peter was about the opportunity.

It didn't help that Peter had idolized Stark ever since Iron Man had saved him at the last Stark Expo.

May waited until the next time she had the apartment to herself to make another phone call. Stark picked up after two rings.

"Alright, listen up,” May said, not giving Stark the chance to utter even a single word. “Peter saw the letter, and he's ecstatic to come to Stark Tower. I don't want to ruin that. But if this is going to happen, we'll have to lay out some ground rules."

For once, Stark did not respond with a joke or sarcastic quip. Just a simple, "Sure. I'm listening."

The following conversation made May feel uncomfortably like the kind of helicopter parent she knew back from Peter's elementary school, the sort she had always despised. In utter reluctance, May found that she could suddenly sympathize.

Besides strict guidelines about when and how long Peter was allowed to visit, May also insisted on visiting the Tower on her own, first. She also insisted on hourly phone calls that would let her know that everything was alright.

To her utter surprise, Stark didn't protest any of her demands. She found a brand new tablet in the mail on that very same day, alongside a note inviting her to video phone the Tower whenever she liked.

May did not hesitate to take him up on the offer. Frequently and extensively.

"Aunt May! Aunt May! Guess what!" Peter’s excited voice assaulted her ears before May had even the chance to greet him.

Something that sounded suspiciously like an explosion went off in the background, and May's grip around the tablet tightened. "Peter. What was that?"

"Huh?" Peter looked over his shoulder, at something out of May's field of vision. "Oh, don't worry about it. That was just Mr. Loki trying to freak out Mr. Stark. I actually wanted to tell you about–”

"With explosions?" May interrupted. Then, as her brain caught up with Peter's words, "Wait, who tried to freak out Mr. Stark?"

"They're not real explosions, they're just magic, but I actually–”

"Magic?!"

"Yes, but listen! Me and Ned made a new friend."

"A new friend," May repeated faintly, making a mental note to make Stark clarify just what exactly was happening at that "science camp" of his. “You mean the girl? Shuri?”

Ben poked his head into the living room with a curious expression, and May waved him off.

“No, we already know Shuri. She’s been here even longer than we have. We met her brother, too. He’s a king and a superhero!”

“I see.” May honestly, genuinely didn’t. At all.

“Anyway, we made another friend. He arrived just today. His name’s Harley, and Mr. Stark invited him, too.”

"Hello Mrs. Parker!" A brown-haired boy who looked roughly Peter's age appeared on the screen, his cheeks flushed red from excitement. "Peter told me you live in New York. That's so cool, it takes ages to fly in all the way from Tennessee. I'm probably not gonna come all the time, which kind of sucks, but Mr. Stark said I could get a StarkPad and still talk to Peter and Ned and Shuri, isn't that cool?"

May blinked, rapidly filtering through the flood of information she'd gotten. "It's nice to meet you, um... Harley." She paused. "You've flown in from where ?"

"Oh yeah, Mr. Stark sent his private jet," Harley said like that was something a random billionaire just did.

"How nice of him.” May hoped that the clipped quality of her voice did not register for her teen-aged audience.

"It took him three weeks to convince my mom to say yes," Harley added.

May wasn't sure whether or not she should find solace in the fact that Stark would have most likely worn her down eventually, had she not agreed to his terms when she had.

"Speaking of Mr. Stark," she said, hoping to ban most of her animosity towards the man out of her voice, "where exactly is he?" If she caught him neglecting her nephew and his friends, no amount of puppy-eyes and begging would stop her from putting an end to the whole thing. “And where’s Ned?”

“I’m here, Mrs. Parker!” Ned poked his head into the frame and waved. “We’ve got autographs of all of the Avengers. Isn’t that amazing?!”

“Thor showed us his hammer.”

“And his lighting.”

“Is that why there’s scorch marks on the coffee table?” Harley asked. “I can’t believe I missed that!”

May felt a muscle below her eye twitch. “Where did you say Stark was, dear?”

Peter took a breath to answer. He didn’t end up needing to.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Stark’s voice piped up in the background. “Woah, who brought DUM-E out of the workshop?”

A formal, British-sounding voice answered him. “Nobody, Sir. DUM-E has heard you talking about our guests. He felt left out, and decided to come out of the workshop on his own.” His voice took on a half amused, half proud quality. “He has managed to operate the elevator all by himself, Sir.”

May heard some sort of mechanic whir.

"Is that a robot?" May recognized the voice as the little girl who had been at the tower when Stark had called. Shuri.

"You've got a robot here?" Peter joined in.

Stark ignored both of the children in order to sigh. "Okay, fine. Glad to have you here, buddy. Where's U?"

"I believe the appropriate term would be 'sulking', Sir."

Stark let out an exasperated huff. "Of course he is. Whatever. Tell him he's more than welcome to join us as soon as he's finished his little tantrum."

"Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark! Can I say hello to the robot, please please please?" Peter rushed out of the frame and knocked over the tablet.

His new friend – Harley, was it? – was hot on his tails. "Hey, wait for me! Did you say his name was Dummy?"

May kept the call connected for several more minutes, despite not being able to see anything other than the ceiling. She could make out a square shaped dent and what looked like a kitchen knife embedded in it.

“How are they doing?” Ben entered the living room from the kitchen, dropping down beside her with a smile.

May wasn’t actually sure how to answer the question. “... I think Peter and Ned befriended African royalty.”

Ben blinked.

May wasn’t done. “They also met the Avengers. Thor almost destroyed the living room with his lightning. There’s robots running around the whole place and I think they might have met the psychopath who tried to invade New York a few weeks ago.”

Ben blinked, again. Then he laughed, deeply and genuine. “Those boys have a wonderful imagination. Sounds like they’re having fun.” He squeezed May’s shoulder and reached for the newspaper lying on the table.

May let her head drop down on the back rest of their sofa, mentally cursing Stark with the sort of language that would have gotten Peter grounded. That man was going to be the death of her.

May kept letting Peter go to the Tower only because he had yet to return with so much as a scratch. His enthusiasm didn’t waver, he brought gadgets and trinkets with him whenever he came home (most of which, according to Peter, he helped build himself) and told stories more and more outrageous each and every time.

Stark somehow managed not to sink his reputation further by religiously making sure to hold his agreement about the daily video calls.

May found comfort in the knowledge that ever since losing his parents, she had rarely seen Peter as happy as he was now.

Contrary to popular belief, Loki did not hate all people equally. He hated stupid people, as well as those that were below him and thought otherwise. He also did not care for his so called "family". But he did not loathe all people in equal measure.

For instance, Loki had found that he tolerated children to a surprising degree. Children were blatant and honest. Not to be cruel, but because they didn't know how not to be. They were full of childish naivety, easily excitable and did not care to hide their true desires and intentions.

In many ways, interacting with them was far more pleasant (not to mention refreshing) than treading the delicate line of manipulation and ulterior motives when talking to an adult.

Besides, children were so easily entertained by the simplest things.

"Do it again," the princess all but commanded, using a tone of voice Loki wouldn't have tolerated coming from anyone outside of her age range.

"Your wish is my command." His deep bow and mocking grin succeeded in making the children laugh. Their laughter soon turned into cheers as Loki conjured animal shapes into thin air – not Midgardian ones, but creatures found in all sorts of realms.

The spell itself was barely more than a party trick, one that Loki had mastered with only a few centuries of age. It did not matter in the face of his audience's enthusiasm. Loki's mouth twitched into a smile. Yes, this was the reason he preferred the company of children. What would have been met with scorn and suspicion from others was a simple delight to them.

"How are you doing that?" Shuri asked, a bright grin on her face and a gleam in her eyes. "How does it work?"

"Magic." Loki didn't try to hide the twinkle in his eyes.

"Yes, but how–”

"It would be far too complicated to understand for your simple, human mind." What? Loki liked children. It didn't mean he was going to pamper them.

Shuri looked ready to start an argument with him. One of the boys – Ned – interrupted. "Can all aliens do magic?"

Loki twitched at the clumsily used term. "Most can use it to some degree. Only few choose to master the art in its entirety."

"Are you kidding?!" Peter hopped up and down on the sofa. "If I had magic I would use it for everything ."

"Dude," Ned said, "we could join the Avengers–”

"–fight crime and save people! We'd be so cool!"

Shuri let out a huff. "You don't need magic to do those things."

"Hey, so, Mr. Loki, Sir." The newest – and last – of the children, Harley, had resurfaced from whatever he'd been busy doing with his puny, Midgardian communication device. "I was looking you up on the internet–”

"The 'internet'?" Loki repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"It's like this giant network you can access no matter where you are. You can look up information, talk to other people–”

"Watch cat videos," Ned enthusiastically added.

"–all sorts of stuff," Harley finished. "Anyway, so I've been looking you up, and–”

"Beg your pardon?" Loki's brows knit into a frown. "This internet of yours stores information on me? On Asgard?"

"Well, yeah. You know, Norse Mythology and all that."

Right. It wasn't that Loki had forgotten about the time Asgard’s people had been named gods by the Midgardians' primitive ancestors. He simply hadn't thought that they would keep archives about them, much less some that included Loki.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, but I don't know how much of it is true," Harley said. "Some of the stuff sounds really far fetched."

"Oh yeah?" Peter craned his neck to take a look at Harley's phone. "Like what?"

Shuri was not far behind. "Who's that supposed to be?"

"Loki. That's why I said it was weird."

"Why's he blue ?"

Loki felt his thoughts screeching to a halt. Across the room, Banner looked up from the paper he'd been reading, pinning Loki with an alarmed glance.

"Give me that," he snapped, all but tearing the device out of the child's hand. Sure enough, the display showed a grotesque – but unambiguous – depiction of Loki in his Jotunn form. How was that possible?

"Can you actually do that?" Ned asked.

Harley seemed interested in a permanent visit to the land of the dead, because he added, "Can you show us?"

Loki tried to think through the insistent ringing in his ears. A muscle below his eye twitched. Banner sent him a warning glance and muttered, "Loki..."

It was the children's curiosity – genuine interest, rather than wariness – that settled the matter for Loki.

Hesitant, and with reluctance burning in his gut, Loki made his body shift, revealing dark blue skin and carved runes. Loki suppressed the urge to cover it up again immediately.

The children's awed silence didn't last for long. "Woah," Shuri said. "Can all white people do that?"

Loki blinked. "I– What–”

"How does your skin do that? Are you cold? I read on the internet that your kind turns blue when you're cold."

"What could you possibly know about my kind?!" Loki scowled, irritation sparking behind his eyes. He retracted all of the pleasant opinions he'd had about the children minutes ago.

"I think Shuri means humans," Ned said. "You know. White people."

The statement actually left Loki speechless. "... No. No, this is not something that humans can do. I had thought we'd already established that I am not, in fact, human."

"It says you're a frost giant," Harley said, his eyes pinned back on his device. "That's different from Thor, isn't it?"

Loki ignored the statement. He shifted back into his Aesir form and ignored Banner's curious glance. "What else does it say?"

What followed was truly... enlightening – and more than a little humiliating – lesson in Norse mythology.

“So you’re saying you don’t have a kid who’s a giant snake?”

“ No. Obviously not.”

“Or a horse with eight legs?”

“No, that’s my father’s battle–”

“Or a wolf?”

“Or the goddess of death?”

Loki felt the twitching below his eyes grow rapidly. “We do not even have a goddess of death. There is no such thing.”

The children had just opened their mouths – Loki wasn’t sure whether to dread what would come next – when Banner’s voice cut through the room. It had an urgency to it that made Loki pause.

“JARVIS, turn that up.”

A news report flickered up in the middle of the living room, showing shaky, far range footage of a battered space vessel about to crash in the middle of a park.

“ – witness reports have not confirmed alien sightings beyond the one captured on the displayed footage. We’re asking: Has the New York invasion been only the beginning?”

Banner rose, taking a step towards Loki and piercing him with an emotionless stare. “Is that one of yours?”

Loki held up his hands and resisted the urge to take a step backwards. He pretended like he wasn’t checking Banner’s skin for any sign of discoloration. “I assure you that it is not.”

“You’re not planning anything that could count for another attempt at world domination?”

“Not currently, no.”

Banner kept pinning him under his gaze. Loki glared back.

Finally, Banner turned away. “JARVIS. I hope you already notified the others.”

“Naturally, Doctor Banner.”

“Good. Tell them I’m on my way. And you,” he threw another glance at Loki, already halfway through the doorway. “Don’t do anything. JARVIS has his eyes on you and knows what to do in an emergency.”

“Who do you take me for?” Loki said, too late. Banner had already left.

Loki and the children turned back to the news report. It showed the military on its way to the approximated crash site, as well as assumptions which of the Avengers would arrive, first.

“JARVIS,” Loki said, leaning back on the couch with a pleased grin. “If you could, please make the screen larger.” At once, the holographic screen grew to the size it had during one of the Avengers’ ‘movie nights’.

For a moment, none of them spoke. Then Harley piped up with a, “Hey JARVIS. Do you guys have any popcorn here?”

Loki had to admit that this was far preferable to the front lines of the conflict. Without speaking it out loud – he doubted that it would find appreciation from the children – Loki made a mental ranking list of which of the Avengers he’d most like to see pummeled into the ground by whichever enemy was about to set foot on Midgard.

Chapter Text

It was on his way to the approximated crash site and feeling more stressed than he had during the entire last few weeks combined that Tony appreciated for the first time just how pleasant of a breeze his trip to the past had been up until this point.

"JARVIS," he said, his voice clipped from tension, "try to hold off the Avengers for now. Pretend like you weren’t able to reach them, manipulate the jet, I don’t care. Just try to slow them down. Hold off the military and establish a parameter with the Iron Legion. I need to go in alone and I need to stay alone for as long as you can manage."

"Acknowledged. Sir, are you certain–”

"I'll be fine." Tony had almost reached their destination. A quick glance at the space craft, its velocity and its estimated angle of impact told him that it was damaged but under control. Nebula would be shaken, but she'd live.

JARVIS’ voice filled his helmet, clinically and professionally. “Impact of the vessel in 5… 4.... 3…”

Tony fired up his repulsors and braced himself. Despite JARVIS thoughtfully blocking the audio input of his armor, Tony winced at the impact. It didn't matter how big of a parameter his Legion was establishing; half of Manhattan must have heard.

The spaceship hadn't yet come to a halt (leaving a deep furrow in the grass behind it) when its opening hatch was flung into Tony's general direction.

"Sir, are you quite sure that–”

"I am." Tony felt his mouth twitch into a smile. A regular interface would not have repeated the question after Tony had already answered it. He loved it when JARVIS – or any of his AI – acted independent of their initial programming. "Thanks for looking out for me, buddy. But I know what I’m doing.”

The crash hadn't happened the first time around. There was only one other person capable of smashing their way through the path the universe had laid out for them more violently than a sledgehammer.

Tony landed his armor in front of the ship right before a figure jumped out of it, cursing as she stumbled on her way out – which wasn't surprising, seeing as she dragged one of her stiff, motionless limbs behind her.

Never before had seeing Nebula’s moody scowl made Tony quite this happy. "Stark," she growled instead of a proper greeting.

"Nebs," Tony said, just to make a point. One didn't survive the slaughtering of half of the universe, drift together in empty space for days and plunge back in time in a desperate attempt to save the world without reaching first name basis.

Nebula didn't protest beyond darkening her scowl.

"So. You look..." Tony swept Nebula over with one glance. "Beaten up. Who'd you pick a fight with?" It couldn't have been Thanos. Surely, it couldn’t have. Knowledge of the future or not, Nebula would not have lived to tell the tale.

Tony expected an angry snap of an answer. Perhaps even defensiveness. He didn't, however, expect her to screw together her brows and hesitate in a motion that looked suspiciously sheepish.

"You will have to be more specific."

Tony blinked and attempted to process that response. "Please don't tell me you’ve made even more enemies than we had Before."

"None that lived to see another day." Nebula's eyes glinted with thinly veiled maliciousness.

“So we’ve both been productive,” Tony said. “Nice. You didn’t by any chance get your hands on an infinity stone or two, did you?”

“The soul stone is destroyed. As for power…” Nebula trailed off, raising her cybernetic arm and making it brim with purple, familiar looking energy.

Tony’s eyes widened, questions rapidly forming on his tongue and threatening to make him forget the urgency of their current situation.

"Is this… Terra?"

Tony's head perked up at the new voice, and he forced himself to store away his curiosity for later. He’d have more than enough time to pester Nebula for answers once they had safely arrived at the tower.

He recognized one of their allies from Titan – the girl from the Guardians, Mantis, was it? – hesitantly climbing out after Nebula.

"Nice to meet you," Tony said, giving a little wave. "I'm Tony." He turned back to Nebula and raised an eyebrow. "Is that why it took you so long to show up? I was almost worried you'd have all the fun without me."

"I had to obliterate a sentient planet and the vermin that was its creator," Nebula deadpanned, her expression almost daring Tony to speak against her. "Mantis is one of us now."

The corner of Tony's mouth tugged up in a grin. "You could have just said that you had to pick up a friend."

Nebula let out a growl.

Next to her, Mantis' eyes widened. "A... friend?" She stole a glance at Nebula. "We are friends?"

Nebula didn't get the chance to answer before JARVIS intercepted the conversation.

“Sir. If you would direct your attention to the sky.”

Tony did as he was told. And stared. "... Nebula. Why is there a second spaceship charging directly towards us?"

"It's fine." Nebula didn't spare the ship a single glance, despite it nearing the earth at an alarming speed. "She's on our side."

Tony didn’t feel reassured in the slightest. "Who's ‘she’?"

"Sir. All three of you are currently in the path of the space vessel and will be crushed if you do not move."

Tony blinked. "Right. Yeah. Okay, let's–”

Nebula didn't wait for him to finish. She grabbed Mantis with one arm and held onto Tony's armor with the other, evidently deciding that her defective leg was not suited for a quick, efficient get-away, much less one that required her carrying another person with her.

The repulsors of his armor roared to life and launched them into the air. Tony set them down once his calculations told him it would be safe to land.

This time, the ship hadn't even touched the ground before someone flung themselves out of it and straight at Nebula. Someone very green, very ferociously scowling.

In his bemusement Tony forgot to do anything about it and watched the mystery person tackle Nebula to the ground with a gleam of her drawn swords.

"That's it, Nebula!" she (because at second glance Nebula's attacker was definitely female) snarled, pressing her weapons to Nebula's throat in such an obviously hostile way, Tony felt somewhat embarrassed he had yet to so much as raise his repulsors. "You won't get another chance. And neither will Thanos."

In Tony's defense, Nebula didn't look particularly alarmed by the insanely sharp looking blade millimeters away from cutting her artery.

The green lady hadn't looked up once. Tony would be surprised if she'd even registered Tony's and Mantis' presence, seeing as she looked completely invested in her righteous monologue that could have come straight out of a bad action flick.

"Give up now, or I won't hesitate to end your life. Just like I will end Thanos."

"It's fine, Gamora," Nebula said like her life was not currently being threatened. "He's on our side."

Gamora bristled at the implication. "We are not on the same side!" Her glare swung upwards and landed on Tony. "And if he is an ally of yours, that means his days are numbered like yours are."

"What the– Nebula, is that your sister?!" That had been her name, hadn't it? Gamora, Thanos' favorite daughter. Nebula's sister who had been one of the first to die. If there was one person Nebula had grieved, it had been her.

If anything, Gamora's glare grew more scathing. "Don't think I will hesitate to stop you from destroying the universe, only because Thanos decided to call us sisters. It means nothing."

"Um," Tony said, at a total loss what to do. Should he power up his repulsors? Try to talk it out? Do nothing and see what would happen?

"It's fine," Nebula repeated, attempting to push more meaning into the word. "You can stop pretending. Stark knows everything."

Tony rather felt like he was completely lost. Gamora looked the same, although her confusion was somewhat covered by her anger.

Without waiting for an answer – and still completely ignoring the blade cutting into her flesh – Nebula glared at her sister. "While I appreciate your dedication to realism, was it so difficult to only pretend to shoot at me?! I am fairly sure it would have been convincing enough without destroying my engine."

Tony kept his eyes fixed on Gamora, who looked more perplexed with every word that Nebula uttered. "Um. Nebs–”

"'Nebs'?!" Gamora stared in disbelief.

"– I don't think your sister is pretending."

"Don't be absurd. Of course she is." Nebula looked up to Gamora. "Tell him, Sister."

There was a beat of silence. Then Gamora growled. "I don't know what exactly your plan is, Nebula, but your tricks will not work."

Nebula gaped in stunned silence. "You don't know?!"

Disbelieving eyes found Tony's – perhaps in the misguided hope that he would tell her this wasn't genuinely happening. Tony gave a helpless shrug in response.

"You don't know?!" She repeated, the volume of her voice rising. "About... about anything?!"

"I know enough,” Gamora protested, offended at the implication.

Tony didn't know if he should laugh or cry at how badly Gamora genuinely, truly didn't understand what was going on. At all. Nebula wasn't helping, seeing as rather than doing some explaining, she was preoccupied with reliving all the frustrating, now useless weeks she had spent in the assumption that she and her sister had been on the same page.

Or at least that was Tony's guess, going by what he could filter out of her furious rambling. What little he could filter out, seeing as Gamora was snarking right back at her.

"– nothing better to do than attempting to foil my plans and hunting me! What were you even trying to accomplish?!"

"– kidding me?! As if I'd let you help Thanos destroy the universe! You should know me better than to assume I'd stand by watching–”

"Apparently I haven't known you at all, seeing as I didn't think my sister was dense enough to–”

"Did you just call me stupid?! You're the one who–”

"Um," Tony said, "Ladies?"

"You owe me a new engine. And also a new limb." As if to prove her point, Nebula's leg sparked furiously.

"You almost killed us!" Gamora yelled. "Several times!"

"Oh please." Any person other than Nebula would have rolled their eyes. "I did nothing I didn't know you were capable of surviving."

"Nebula," Tony tried, his glance flickering to the data his HUD displayed. If he'd learned one thing during his career as a superhero, it was that red flashing lights almost always meant bad news. “I think we need to–”

"Thanks for that," Gamora drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm so lucky, knowing that my sister looks out for me."

"You're welcome," Nebula snapped, either not noticing or not caring about the sarcasm. "Perhaps I should have just let Ego–”

"Guys!" Tony took a deliberate step forwards to draw both of the sisters’ attention towards him – and regretted it almost immediately. Now two pairs of similarly intense murderous glares were directed on him. Oh joy. "We need to go elsewhere. Like, right now. We'll have company soon."

Gamora glared some more. "Who even are you?! What is your connection to my sister?!"

"It does not concern you with whom I associate and for what reason–”

"Look, I'll give you the short version," Tony interrupted before Nebula could set off another bout of sisterly squabble.

"Firstly, your sister isn't working for Thanos anymore. She hasn't for a while."

"Which you would know, if you were capable of even half the–”

"Secondly," Tony continued, raising his voice so he could talk over Nebula, "she's collecting the infinity stones to destroy them, not to give them to Thanos. She's already gotten rid of one."

Gamora's frown faltered ever so slightly. "But– That's not–”

"So, seeing as we're all on the same side here, perhaps we could postpone the explanations for when the American government isn't about to burst in on us and break up the party. Alright?"

"What– No! Nothing is alright!" Gamora's scowl deepened back into something dark and ugly. "Who even are you?"

"Oh yeah. I'm Tony. Nice to meet you. I'm Nebula's human friend."

Gamora's face went blank. "Human? But how–” Her eyes widened comically in shock. "Did you say friend?! ”

"We are not." Nebula avoided Tony's glance. A muscle in her cheek twitched suspiciously.  "We are passing acquaintances at best."

"You made a friend," Gamora said, looking right through her sister. "You?"

"Friends," Mantis parroted, her face lighting up in a heartbreakingly eager way as she carefully pronounced the word. "Just like we are?"

A notification popped up, letting Tony know that his parameter had been breached by a military tank. "We'll talk later," he decided. Both Nebula's and Gamora's mouth opened in protest, and he added, "Unless you're in the mood to fight the military that will arrive in roughly five minutes. Not to mention my superpowered friends who won't be far behind."

"We could take them," Nebula said.

"Or," Tony countered, pushing down the exasperation that went with spending any amount of time with Nebula, "we could spare us the hassle by making a run for it. Right now."

Nebula and Gamora shared a glance. By some miracle, instead of making another argument spark up, Nebula turned away with an annoyed huff. "Fine."

Gamora hesitated, then nodded. "I will get my crew."

So the Guardians had come, after all. "Didn't they plan to, you know," Tony made a vague gesture, already regretting bringing it up, "lend you a hand?"

Gamora rolled her eyes. "They were whining about coming here the entire way. I told them they could wait inside of the ship."

"Typical," Nebula muttered.

At once, Gamora's eyes flared up in fury. "I will let you know that they would have stood by my side the second I needed them." She let out a huff. "You I can handle."

Tony stopped listening to whatever it was Nebula threw back at her sister and heaved a sigh. At this rate it would be miracle if his day didn't end in having to bust about half a dozen alien invaders and himself out of some sort of high security cell.

"May I say that you are handling the situation admirably," JARVIS said quietly into his ear. "I truly do not know why I was concerned."

Chapter Text

By the time Steve and the others arrived at the spaceship’s crash site it was already too late. The vessel was abandoned, the invaders had fled and the military was swarming all over everything they had left behind.

The team was left in a state of puzzlement. How had the military managed to arrive earlier than them? Why hadn't they heard about the crash sooner? Nobody wanted a repeat of the New York invasion, but they wouldn’t be able to stop anything if they failed even the simple step of showing up in time to confront their enemies.

Once all of them had filed back into the jet, the atmosphere among the team was accordingly tense.

They couldn’t even start an impromptu team meeting on their way back to the tower, seeing as there was a blatantly empty spot in their midst.

"Where is he?" Clint shook his head in exasperation. "With everything he’s been talking about, you'd think Tony would have been the first at the scene."

"JARVIS admitted that there was a flaw in his programming." Bruce's voice was too quiet for Steve to read anything out of it. "It's why he didn't notify us as soon as sensors picked up on the spaceship."

Steve's brows knit into a frown. He knew far from everything about Tony's AI, but as far as he knew, JARVIS didn't make mistakes. Ever. Had someone managed to get their fingers on him and messed with his coding?

"You're saying he might not even know," Steve said, just to make sure.

Bruce shrugged. "Maybe. If JARVIS didn't managed to smooth out the issue yet. And if he hasn't looked at a news station for a few hours."

Tony losing a few hours in his lab (or a few dozen) was hardly anything new. JARVIS developing a glitch, however, was.

"It's worth a try," Steve decided regardless. No matter what had caused Tony to miss their assembly call, Steve felt far more comfortable discussing their next move with all of them present.

As soon as the jet set down on the landing pad of Avengers tower, their team split up. Bruce headed down to the lab, Thor volunteered to check the common area and Clint and Natasha stayed behind to keep an eye on the situation and to try to reach Pepper or Rhodey.

Steve, meanwhile, climbed the stairs towards Tony's bedroom. Seeing as Tony rarely had a reason to use it at this time of the day, it was more out of the need to exhaust all options rather than actual expectancy to find him.

Time was running out. They couldn't stay idle when they needed to make plans against the unknown number of potentially – most likely – hostile alien invaders that might have already successfully infiltrated Earth.

Steve rounded a corner to find Tony smuggling one of the most likely hostile alien invaders into his bedroom.

Steve blinked and tried to come up with a different explanation for what he was seeing. Unfortunately there wasn't a lot of room for interpretation when Tony was pushing a blue-skinned woman through the doorway with the words "– gotta hurry. They're probably already on their way back."

Sparking pieces of machinery poked out of her broken leg. One of her eyes looked artificial. Mildly hysterical, Steve wondered if Tony had chosen the worst possible time to finish building an alien looking but not-actually-from-outer-space android.

The woman's neck snapped around to look straight at Steve. Steve flinched and stared right back.

Tony remained oblivious and kept pushing at the woman's back, unable to move her a single inch. "What are you waiting for? Come on, they might be here any minute."

"They already are," the woman said in a monotone voice. It didn't do anything to disprove Steve's android theory.

"What do you mean, they already– Oh."

Tony and Steve’s eyes met. For lack of anything better to do, Steve felt himself give an awkward wave. "Hey, Tony."

Tony didn’t react. Neither of them moved in an uncomfortably drawn-out moment of mute staring.

"I swear, this isn't what it looks like," Tony said in a tone of voice that suggested he hadn't quite figured out who he was trying to convince.

Next to him, the android-alien lady raised what looked like a lethal, futuristic weapon. "No witnesses."

"Oh, put that down." Tony rolled his eyes, pushing down the blaster in a sign of incredibly lacking self-preservation.

"That’s one of the aliens who crash landed in the city half an hour ago," Steve said. He gave up on trying to turn the sentence into a question about halfway through.

"Okay, so maybe it's exactly what it looks like," Tony said. "But I've got a great explanation for it. You'll be blown away by just how amazing of an explanation it's going to be."

Tony fell silent. Steve waited. When no explanation followed – amazing or otherwise – Steve prompted, "Yes?"

"Right. Yes. Explanation, um. Nebula?" Tony quite unsubtly nudged the alien lady – whose name seemed to be Nebula – with his elbow. He grunted at the punch he received in return.

Still, Nebula obeyed, although she did so with a moody, mildly murderous looking scowl. "Stark and I communicated through... radio."

Steve blinked. "Radio?"

"Yeah," Tony said, latching onto that excuse with a wince. "We're alien pen pals."

Steve let that statement stand in the air until it made Tony squirm.

"... So. Erm." Tony opened his mouth – presumably to attempt to salvage the situation – when a raccoon that was walking on two legs poked its head out of the doorway and spoke.

"Are you morons coming or what? We're gonna fall asleep in there if you're gonna take much longer." Just like that, it was gone again.

Steve wished he'd traded Thor for the blessedly empty, alien-free common area.

At the very least, Steve was fairly certain that he was not dealing with some sort of odd, elaborate hostage situation. Not only did Tony look far too calm to be in any sort of mortal peril, he also hadn't used any of the facial cues or hand-signs they'd practiced for emergencies.

"I'm going to go downstairs," Steve said, gesturing behind himself and feeling no shame whatsoever for excusing himself from the situation. Sometimes, one simply needed to be aware of one’s personal limits.

"... Right," Tony said, finally managing to usher Nebula into his bedroom and out of sight. Somehow, it didn't make Steve feel better. "I'm gonna be right there. In a bit. After I've dealt with... this."

Following the stairs towards the common area, Steve hoped genuinely that Tony would soon finish "this" and follow, seeing as he had no clue whatsoever what to tell the other Avengers if he didn't.

Nebula resolutely refused to stay behind with the Guardians as Tony went to deal with the Avengers. He was aware of her inability to trust anyone, but this was going a bit far. It made him feel like she didn't trust him to take care of himself – although, seeing as she'd been forced to witness him slowly wasting away after mere days without food and water in the depths of space, he supposed she might have developed a somewhat worrying perception of his limitations as a human.

They argued the entire way down to the common area, Tony trying to convince Nebula that he was fine on his own, thank-you-very-much, and Nebula insisting that Tony wouldn't be able to defend himself from so much as a wild Praaz.

Tony managed to feel insulted despite the fact that he had no clue what a Praaz was supposed to be.

By the time they had half a dozen pairs of eyes in various states of wariness and hostility pinned on them (or rather, on Nebula), Tony realized that they had spent so much time bickering, they had completely forgotten to settle on a somewhat more believable excuse as to why they even knew each other.

"... So," he started, wondering not for the first time where his impeccable improvisation skills had evaporated to. "This is Nebula.”

Nobody had anything to say to that.

"She crashed the spaceship in Central Park.”

"It was not me to blame," Nebula grumbled, crossing her arms in a petulant way.

"Why is she here now?" Bruce asked, a mild frown marring his otherwise neutral expression. "You clearly know her. How?"

Tony had hoped for a sudden burst of inspiration to hit him before this point. What he found himself saying instead was, "Would you believe me if I told you she crashed on Earth E.T. style when I was six?"

Seeing as Nebula stared at him just as incredulous as everybody else, Tony estimated his chances rather low. He racked his brain for something else, something the Avengers would buy, something they'd be able to believe... and came to a decision.

He sighed. "Okay, look, guys. There's something I need to tell you."

When the truth was more outrageous than any lie he came up with could ever be, why should he even try?

"It's time I told you the truth."

It took Tony several hours and more personal details shed about his team than any of them liked until he had convinced the Avengers that he had, in fact, come back from the future.

It took longer for them to stop staring at him like he was an entirely different person – which, in some way, he supposed he was.

It took no time at all to persuade them to leave all further explanations for the public to him. Nebula was not the type of person to be convinced of staying in hiding, and footage of her leaving and entering the tower like it belonged to her soon started to circulate.

In other words, Tony needed to do some damage control.

"What could you possibly say to the public?" Bruce asked quietly. He had not yet stopped avoiding Tony's glance, and it made discomfort squirm in Tony’s gut. "They'll never believe the truth. You can't convince them the way you have us."

"I'm not planning to," Tony admitted. "In fact, I'm not planning to tell them anything even remotely close to it."

The fact was, regular people wouldn't be able to handle the truth, even if Tony found some way of making them believe him in the first place. Neither would he be able to invent some sort of excuse that everybody – or even the majority – would buy.

Tony sent Bruce a playful grin. "I'm gonna make sure that nobody will ever be able to figure out what actually happened."

“– said to have been harboring fugitives from outer space after the controversial camera footage taken in Central Park. Sources from law enforcement have now released Stark’s statement. The sincerity of such statement has been up for debate, seeing as he claims to have ‘met during [his] first test run of [his] interstellar Iron Man armor.’”

Rhodey flicked his wrist to make the article disappear. A YouTube video took its place, shaky footage that looked like it was taken with a phone inside of Stark tower.

It showed Tony smiling at the camera while Nebula stood beside him, sporting an unnerving stare. They seemed to be standing in front of a coffee machine.

“Is she actually from space?” a voice blurted out from behind the camera, high sounding as though from a teenager.

A glance at the video description told Rhodey that it was taken by one of Stark Industries’ interns.

“Sure is.” On the screen, Tony tried to lay his hand on Nebula’s shoulder and missed as she took a purposeful step back. “Her name’s Nebula. We met through our mutual passion of collecting rocks.”

The camera shook as though its owner had almost dropped it. “... Collecting rocks,” the intern repeated, sounding vaguely as though she thought she was being made fun of.

“... Oh.” Nebula’s expression morphed from confusion to realization as Tony’s words sank in. She sent Tony a glare that suggested she was tempted to pummel him into the nearest wall.

Rhodey batted the video away. A forum entry was next.

radio-lopis: guys

radio-lopis: have u seen the newest video yet??

comicsansa: the one with cnn

comicsansa: where he says one of his teleportation experiments went wrong and he transported to an alien planet

comicsansa: ?

mag3: old news man.

one-in-a-melon: don’t know bout you, but my favorite was the one where he says he met her in the cave where he built his first Iron Man armoe

one-in-a-melon: armor*

radio-lopis: think again! there’s a new one

radio-lopis: [link]

mag3: omfg

one-in-a-melon: forget what I said

one-in-a-melon: this one

one-in-a-melon: this one’s my favorite

Rhodey opened the video.

"She doesn't belong here!" Two security guards seemed to be restraining a young man whose face was contorted in a hateful glare. Tony and Nebula stood beside them, Tony's hand raised as though he contemplated physically dragging Nebula away from the situation.

Nebula's scowl suggested that she would not allow such a thing.

"She's just the beginning! She was probably sent to make way for the next invasion forces! Why isn't she locked up in a cell?!"

Tony opened his mouth to answer. Nebula, looking as though her patience had finally snapped, was quicker.

"I have participated in and lead war crusades since I can remember. Worlds have fallen under my command one after the other, lost in fire and the screams of innocents dying. In another reality, your pathetic planet would have been one of them.”

She took a step forward, and the camera wobbled as though its owner was barely holding onto it.

“You can count yourself lucky that I hate my father more than I hate anything. I will spare this useless piece of rock if it means that I will one day rip apart its would-be conqueror limb by limb, drawing out his suffering so he will understand even an inkling of the pain he has caused me every single day of my life."

All the blood had drained from the protester’s face and his eyes were stuck on Nebula in a terrified, frozen stare.

Once Tony had finished staring himself, he gave a cheerful – but forced – laugh. "Good one, Nebula. Haven’t heard that one before." Turning to the protester, he added, "Will that be all?"

The guy was smart enough to flee while his limbs were still intact.  

Fueled by morbid curiosity, Rhodey kept going. He shifted through yet another gossip site, filled with disbelief at the proof that Tony had actually succeeded. Entertaining though as it was, it wasn't quite enough to distract himself from the revelation Tony had made – the real one.

His best friend was a time traveler? Well, alright then. Weirder things had happened. (Except they really, genuinely hadn't.)

He found a forum with yet another conspiracy theory he hadn't read before and snorted.

At the other end of the sofa, Steve was stubbornly switching the TV channel. He waited a few seconds, grumbled in discontent and did it again. And again.

Eventually, after neither Rhodey nor Tony had the decency to react to his obvious state of distress, he threw his hands in the air and let himself drop backwards. "I give up."

"Oh?" Rhodey skimmed the rest of the blog post he'd been reading. Deciding to pretend as though he didn't know what Steve meant, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"There's nothing. Absolutely nothing." Steve shook his head in disbelief. "Not a single news station is reporting anything new on Nebula. Or the Guardians. Or... anything."

"I told you I'd do it." Tony popped a handful chips into his mouth and grimaced in instant regret. Seeing as Rhodey had no clue where DUM-E had even found the bag, he wasn't surprised. He was fairly sure that particular brand no longer existed.

"I know you did. I just," Steve threw up his hands in exasperation, "I didn't expect it to work this well!"

"What can I say," Tony said, squinting at the bag of chips in his hands. He shrugged, and took another handful. "I know how the media works. Trust me, tabloids and online forums are having a blast right now. Respectable news stations can’t say a word. They’d risk losing their credibility.”

Steve shook his head. His disbelief was growing weaker, giving way to reluctant acceptance. "There should be something. This is ridiculous."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be able to find a few speculations on whether this is all some publicity stunt or something. Anything that'll make them sound rational and not like they're buying the ramblings of a madman."

"You're unbelievable," Steve muttered, although there wasn't a trace of irritation in his voice. He, like most of the team, was still trying to fit the new revelation about Tony into the image they'd had of him up until now.

"This won't solve everything," Rhodey felt the need to point out. Someone had to be the rational one and remind Tony that a trip to the past wasn't a joy ride. "You might have gotten the public and the media off your back, but this won't do anything to fend off SHIELD. Or even the government."

If someone had been moronic enough to try and take away Tony's armor in the attempt to gain a strategic advantage, someone would certainly attempt to profit off of his alien friends, as well.

"Oh, I know," Tony said. He paused, a potato chip in his hand and his lips pulled into a grin. "Let them come and give it their best shot."

Steve sighed, sinking back into the couch and lacking any will of resistance.

Rhodey rubbed his temples and suppressed a smirk, trying for all it was worth to put on an exasperated expression. He had an image to uphold.

In reality, he couldn't wait to witness the poor people who would dare to get the better of Tony Stark. Tony, who’d gone through hell and come out with the intent to beat the strongest creature in the universe.

Chapter Text

"I'm sorry I made assumptions." Gamora’s eyes strayed over the common area in a casual gesture that didn't match her earnest tone. Perhaps she was avoiding eye contact because she knew that it would make this almost unbearable for Nebula. 

"... It's fine," Nebula said. "I should have explained better."

Rather, she should have made the effort to explain at all. Trusting her sister was not an excuse to set unrealistically high expectations for her. 

"You should have," Gamora agreed. "But still.”

Silence between them wasn't comfortable. It never had been. It spoke of their inability to find something to say at all, rather than the comfort of not having to do so in order to spend time together. Nebula knew this younger Gamora as poorly as her sister knew her. 

It was thanks to the other occupants of the tower that they didn't sit in complete silence. Quill had taken a seat on the floor with two of the children, who had taken it upon themselves to make up for the many years that Quill had spent away from his home planet.

"I can't believe you've lived in space for so long!" Peter said. Although he was young, his face looked familiar in a way that made Nebula’s stomach turn. She had decided against mentioning his presence to Stark – to Tony. What was the point of needlessly ripping open old wounds? "I mean, it's super cool that you've been to space – space is awesome , I hope I get to go myself one day – but there's so much you've missed!"

"I know, right?" Quill matched both Peter’s enthusiasm and childish tone. "There's so many movies that came out since then! You've gotta tell me what else has been going on."

"Forget the movies." The girl's accented voice was high with exasperation. "More importantly, why are you listening to music with that thing?"

"My mother gave me this!" Quill protested, holding his clunky device to his chest protectively. 

The girl let out a huff. "Alright, fine. At least let us find some new music for it." She eyed the piece of metal and pressed her lips together. Under her breath, she muttered, "Although it will be a challenge to find something compatible."

Scattered around the ridiculously huge common area was a large percentage of Tony's team. All of them failed horrifically at acting casual while watching them like hawks. They trusted Tony enough not to arrest them or actively antagonize them. They didn't, however, trust them . 

"What are we going to do now?" Gamora asked, her eyes pinned on Quill as he vocally complained about the modern music the children attempted to show him. "Thanos knows about both of us. We won't be able to get close to him while he has his guard up."

"It will not be easy," Nebula agreed. "But we already have an advantage. He will never gather the full extent of his power. I made sure that he will not complete the Gauntlet."

"Because you blew up Vormir." Gamora shook her head as though that piece of information continued to astound her. For some inexplicable reason, her mouth pulled into a grin. "Imagine how Thanos will react, once he finds out."

Nebula indulged in the fantasy of being present when Thanos found out the location of the soul stone and realized it was gone. The sight of her smirk made Barton fall from his perch on a nearby armchair. 

"We shouldn't let down our guard," Gamora said, pulling Nebula out of her fantasy and back into reality. "He might succeed even without all of the stones."

"I know," Nebula said. "Which is why we will destroy them all."

“We’ll have to find them first. Thanos has been looking for them for decades.”

Nebula hummed, ticking off a mental checklist. She had taken the power stone into her possession, and she had destroyed the soul stone with its help. They had not yet had the opportunity to talk about it, but if her memory served her correctly, Tony should have gotten the two stones that were involved in Thanos’ first invasion of Terra – space and mind. 

If that were the case, they would do well to take care of them sooner rather than later. Nebula rose from her seat, and every Avenger currently occupying the room subtly – or not so subtly – reached for a weapon. Nebula ignored them all.

“Come on,” she said, and stalked out of the room trusting that Gamora would follow. 

Pepper liked to think that she knew Tony fairly well. After spending several years at his side, she had learned to roll with the punches and adapt quickly to whatever craziness he brought into their lives next. 

The concept of time travel was not actually that far of a stretch, considering that they'd had to accept the existence of aliens mere months ago. Pepper was hardly one to decide that this was the limit at which she refused to adapt her worldview. 

What was one more alien living at the tower with them? What was a whole group of them? 

Tony seemed to trust them, which had to be enough for Pepper. The Tony she had gotten to know after his confession might have been different than the one she had known before – if any of what he'd told them was true, it was no wonder that he had come out of it changed. 

But in between the new trauma and new coping strategies, Pepper could still recognize the man she'd befriended all those years ago. Nothing had changed about the trust she'd put in him – the trust she would put in him, over and over again if the situation called for it. 

Said trust was put to the test when two of the alien visitors marched into the workshop like it belonged to them, and neither JARVIS nor Tony acknowledged their intrusion beyond a muttered "Hey, Nebs." 

Tony didn't so much as look up from his work. 

One of them, the green one – Gamora, Pepper reminded herself. She would do well to start using their names, now that it seemed less and less likely that they would be leaving the tower any time soon – at least had the decency to look uncomfortably out of place. 

The same could not be said for the second of the pair. The blue one, Nebula, snatched up a couple of tools from Tony's workbench and dropped down on the nearest chair. She proceeded to get to work on her mechanical arm without so much as a word to either Tony, Pepper or her sister.

Pepper kept her mouth shut, waiting for Tony to do something about it. The workshop was his sanctuary. He did not let people inside like it was nothing, nobody besides Pepper and Rhodey. 

Nothing happened, and Pepper couldn’t manage to make herself continue to work on her paperwork. It was something she could have easily done in her office – without the regular interruptions of one of the bots seeking her attention – but Pepper had felt the irresistible urge to spend time close to Tony. If he had taken note of her odd behavior, he hadn’t mentioned it. 

"Can I help you?" Pepper asked when it became clear that nobody else was going to speak first.

Nebula sent her a glare but did not answer. Pepper didn't think that she was being threatened – from what she'd seen, glaring was Nebula's standard facial expression – but she couldn't say for sure. 

When Gamora realized that her sister would not offer anything, she took it upon herself to reply. "I... am not entirely sure why we are here," she admitted. "My sister and I were talking about the infinity stones. I don't know why she insisted on coming here."

"Tony's busy," Nebula said without looking up from her work. "He's useless when he's distracted."

Going by Tony's snort, the distraction wasn’t enough to stop him from listening in to the conversation. "Few more minutes," he said, straightening up from his hunched position over his workbench. "I'm just about done here."

Nebula grunted in what might have been acceptance. "Good. We should not tempt fate by waiting longer than necessary."

"What are you doing?" the other one, Gamora asked, taking a step towards Tony's workbench. Her brows shot upwards as she caught sight of the open containment unit that housed a bright yellow glowing stone. "Is that one of them?" 

"Sure is." Tony threw her a glance, the tip of his mouth pulling upwards. "The mind stone, if you wanna go into details."

"And you're... doing tests on it?"

"Not exactly." Tony swirled around in his chair, pinning the stone with a scrutinizing gaze. "I'm doing my best to copy its pattern."

Gamora's eyes widened in surprise. It didn't take long until wariness made them turn hard and cold. "Please tell me that you have even an inkling of an idea of how dangerous it is to play around with them."

"Oh, I'm not playing. This is serious."

Gamora's eyes kept being drawn in by the glow of the mind stone. She looked at it with a mixture of caution and distaste. "What is the point of destroying it when you are trying to make a copy of it?"

"You flatter me," Tony said. "I don't think that would be quite within my capabilities."

"I know it isn’t. I'm questioning your motivation."

"You know, I’m really starting to see the family resemblance,” Tony said, letting his eyes wander from Nebula to Gamora and back.

Both sisters seemed startled by the declaration. Gamora looked unsure whether she should feel insulted or not. 

"Anyway,” Tony went on, “if all goes well, I'll have copied its general makeup by the time I’m done here. Not its power – that wouldn’t be possible."

"But why would you do such a thing at all?"

Pepper may not have known more about the stones than what she had picked up from the various more or less insane conversations she had run in on during the last few days. But even to her, what Tony was doing sounded incredibly risky. 

Tony hesitated and kept doing whatever it was he was doing. When he pushed himself away from his workstation it looked final. "There's something the stone let us do, last time around. It... was responsible for an addition to the team." Tony's eyes slid to the stone. "I just wanted to give us the opportunity to try again before we destroy the real one." 

Nebula shook her head and muttered something about "sentimentality". She didn't protest, and neither did Gamora or Pepper.

"It shouldn't take me much longer," Tony continued, "maybe a few more days." He turned to look at Nebula. "In case something happens before that, you're free to come down here and take care of it yourself. JARVIS will let you in."

"Noted, sir," JARVIS chimed in, acknowledging the order. 

Pepper tried to stop herself from feeling surprised over it. Clearly, she could no longer compare this Tony's actions to the ones she would have expected from him prior. 

"Taking this risk is moronic," Nebula said, and paused, her brows creasing in consideration. She sighed. "If this blows up in our faces, it will be your fault." She dropped down on a chair next to Tony. "Show me what I can do to help."

Tony’s mouth pulled into a grin and he scooted back to his workbench, Nebula not far behind.

Almost an hour later Pepper had gotten close to nothing done, Gamora had muttered an excuse and returned to the common area, and Tony and Nebula were deeply engulfed in their science talk. The scene had been surreal from the start, but somehow it had started to feel like a regular day in the workshop after DUM-E had shown up, spilled motor oil all over Nebula and been half-heartedly reprimanded for it by Tony.

Tony and Nebula's good-natured bickering spoke of many hours spent in each other's company, and Pepper felt herself relax bit by bit. She could spot their friendship reflected in casual gestures, and if she'd had any doubt about their story before, she certainly didn't have any left by the time she saw Nebula tentatively pat DUM-E's arm in thanks for the (inedible) smoothie he presented her with.

Pepper had just begun contemplating relocating to her office and get some actual work done when JARVIS interrupted the comfortable semi-silence of the workshop.

"Sir. Representatives of the US military have entered the building. They have issued a demand to speak to you."

Tony didn't so much as look up. "I already told you to get rid of anybody who tried threatening us. Don't tell me you've lost your edge, J."

"Hardly, sir. However, I have taken the liberty to assume you would want to be notified that the newest representative is General Thaddeus Ross."

Recognition sparked through Pepper's mind, and she threw a startled look at Tony. "General Ross? As in the guy who won't leave Bruce alone?"

After the New York invasion, Bruce had been hesitant to move into the tower. Housing Loki had certainly been part of the issue. But, as they’d soon found out, the much bigger reason had been the looming threat of a crazed army general doing his very best to get Bruce locked up, now that he and the Hulk had been outed on live television while protecting the city. 

Ross' attempts to get his hands on Bruce had only started to subside after dozens of failed attempts and Captain America himself speaking out in support of Bruce. Apparently Ross had found himself a new reason to collectively ruin their day.

"It would appear so, Miss Potts," JARVIS said. "He and two of his subordinates are rather insistent on talking about the matter of the alien hostiles currently residing in the tower."

Tony hummed without answering, pinning Nebula with a contemplative look.

"Tony?" Pepper asked. "What are you going to do?"

"Should I notify security and have them escorted from the premise?" JARVIS suggested.

"No, actually," Tony said, finally making a decision. "Why don't you invite them inside, instead?"

"Sir?" JARVIS asked. Him needing to clarify an order was similar to any other person being frozen in shock. 

Pepper could relate. “You want them to come into the workshop?" she asked, disbelief heavy in her voice. 

"Sure, why not?" The question must have been rhetorical, because Tony didn't give them the chance to answer. "If we keep turning them away, they'll just come back. Let's just deal with them right here and now."

"Sounds good to me," Nebula deadpanned, shifting her grip on her weapon in a mildly concerning way. 

"We're not killing anyone," Tony said, pinning Nebula with a halfhearted glare. "That's not what I meant and you know it. We're just making sure they... won't feel the desire to come back." 

"By killing them."

"No."

"Maiming?"

"No!"

"Mildly mutila–”

"Let's just assume that all forms of permanent bodily harm are off the table for now, okay?" Tony let out a sigh, ruffling his hair in an exasperated manner. "Look, just. Do me a favor, look as threatening as possible and let me take the lead, alright?"

Nebula narrowed her eyes, clearly not happy with that arrangement. To Pepper's surprise, she gathered up her tools and did as Tony said. "If your plan does not work, there will only be you to blame."

"General Ross is about to reach the workshop," JARVIS said, and caused both of them to fall silent. Tony was quick to take a casual position at his workbench while Pepper decided that her day could not get much weirder and pretended to be engulfed in her paperwork. The ones she hadn't so much as glanced at in at least an hour.

It was silent in the short time it took the General and his subordinates to reach the lab. 

Once they stepped through the door – Pepper was convinced that JARVIS waited just a bit too long to make it slide open for them – Ross did an impressive job at a disinterested, aloof expression. It was somewhat ruined by the unsubtly starstruck subordinates at his side. 

"Stark." Ross' greeting was more of a growl. He ignored Pepper entirely, and his eyes immediately zoomed in on Nebula. "I see that the rumors have been right about you. You've got some nerve."

"I think you've gotta be a bit more specific.” Pepper saw irritation flicker through Tony’s eyes, although he covered it up quickly. 

Pepper couldn't say that she was impressed by Ross' attitude, either. "Good afternoon, General," she said, pulling her lips into a polite smile and forcing Ross to acknowledge her presence. She had dealt with many men like him during her career. None of them had ever managed to intimidate her. "I'd like to remind you that you are in the tower as our guest. We do not tend to answer well to threats."

If possible, Ross' expression grew even grimmer. He paused and jerked his head in what had to be the tiniest attempt at a greeting possible. "We're here on a matter of national security. It you cooperate, we will not be here for long."

At his sides, Ross' subordinates were shifting on their feet restlessly. Their eyes were fixed on Nebula and their hands kept twitching towards their guns. 

Ross did not waste time. "Why is the alien here?"

"She wants to be," Tony said, not batting an eyelash. 

"Why are you letting... her ," Ross said, pressing out the words through clenched teeth. "You should have let the military do what needed to be done. Why did you let her land on Earth in the first place?"

"I didn't let her do anything. I'm her hostage, isn't it obvious?"

Nebula's eyes slowly wandered from Tony to the soldiers. She sat behind Tony with her feet on his workbench, using tools on her arm that were clearly his and wearing the ACDC shirt Tony had given her after DUM-E had spilled motor oil on her.

"Is this a game to you?" Ross hissed, clenching his fist at his side. 

"Obviously not. I'm scared half to death right now," Tony deadpanned. "Perhaps you should try to rescue me."

Pepper put a hand over her mouth to hide her smirk as the two soldiers grabbed for their weapons. They sent a quizzical glance at Ross, eagerly awaiting the order to attempt to "save" Tony Stark from the hostile alien threat.

Ross ignored them both, although Pepper was certain she could spot an irritated twitch below his eye. "Just hand her over, Stark," he said, refusing to play along with Tony's games, "and I will graciously forget you attempting to sabotage this operation."

Tony hummed, leaning back further in his seat. "It's interesting that you think I've got any say in the matter. Why don't you ask her? Since, you know, I think she might be somewhat interested in this?"

Ross' eyes widened and the soldiers went rigid. At one point or another, Nebula had laid down Tony's tools and begun sharpening the knife on her arm. 

"Are you threatening us?!" Ross spat, not quite able to hide the nervous edge in his voice. He tried to cover it up by pushing more anger into his glare.

"I'm not threatening anyone." Tony raised his eyebrow. "I'm being held against my will, remember?"

Ross let out what Pepper could only describe as a growl. He gripped his gun tightly enough to make his hand turn white. "Tread carefully, Stark. I advise you to start cooperating with us, or else you won't like what–”

Pepper raised an eyebrow as one of the soldiers interrupted, stepping forward to be on one level with Ross. 

"Please consider our position," he hissed, and dropped his voice further until only Ross was able to hear. 

To Ross' credit, he listened to his subordinate without interruption, even though his expression turned more and more sour as he went on. Pepper could have sworn his gaze twitched upward at one point, where the Avengers and Gamora's team currently resided. 

By the time the soldier had finished and stepped back into his position, Ross' expression had become unreadable. Perhaps he’d been encouraged to think through the odds of threatening Tony Stark within his own four walls and with backup only a staircase away.

Ross clenched his teeth, his eyes twitching from Nebula to Tony and back. He might have been reckless and arrogant, but Ross was not stupid. 

"This isn't over, Stark," he hissed, taking a step towards the door that led out of the workshop. "I'll be back."

"I think you won't." 

Pepper looked up at the sharp tone in Tony's voice. He'd lost the amused, teasing quality to it – there was no trace of humor left on his face. The soldiers had noticed the same and shared an uneasy look. 

"I've been dealing with you for far too long, trying to keep you off Bruce's back. I've tried taking the diplomatic route before, but you know what? I'm tired of it. It's too much of a headache to bother. I'm over it."

Even Ross had registered the drop in mood and knew better than to interrupt. 

"You're not going to come back and bother Nebula, or Bruce, or any of the others ever again. If you do," Tony paused, making the soldiers squirm with nothing but the weight of his silence. "If you do, you'll find out what I'm capable of when I stop caring about diplomacy. Not Iron Man, but me. Tony Stark."

Ross looked like he wanted to interrupt, but Tony wasn't done. "You're not just a soldier, General Ross. You're planning to go into politics. So, as a politician, tell me. How do you think having Tony Stark on your bad side will impact your career?"

There was silence even after Tony had finished. Ross' eyes had narrowed in a calculating, cautious glare. Considering how much Tony had invested to stay on civil terms with him prior to this point, Pepper didn't blame him. The change in attitude must have felt jarring. 

"We're done here," Tony declared, swirling his chair in a clear dismissal. "Be a dear and show them out, JARVIS."

The doors to the lab slid open before Tony had so much as finished speaking. "If you would follow Mr. Stark's instructions, gentlemen."

Ross hesitated for a moment longer. He gestured for his soldiers to filter out but only followed after one last "Watch your back, Stark. It’d be a shame to find a knife in it after all this."

Tony let him have the last word and looked up only after the elevator in the hallway had closed behind them. "That went well," he said, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. "Nice job, Nebula. I'm pretty sure that guy on the right got close to passing out."

Nebula grumbled under her breath. "You should have let me deal with them permanently. Especially that Ross person."

"Yeah, I know," Tony said, grimacing. "I've been dealing with him for years. I think he'll be smart enough to stay away, but you've got no idea how high the temptation is to make sure."

"I'm not dealing with the paperwork if you kill somebody in the tower," Pepper felt the need to point out, somewhat morbidly hoping that all three of them were joking. Well. Her and Tony, at the very least. 

Tony snorted and pushed himself up from his seat. "Please. As if I'd be stupid enough to commit homicide in my own home. Now, JARVIS," he went on before Pepper had the chance to comment, "could you pull up the surveillance footage of our conversation? I think Bruce would appreciate the close ups of Ross almost popping a vein."

Chapter Text

Since the arrival of Tony's comrade in arms – and associates – on Midgard, the tower had become more eventful than it had ever been. With so many people of varying backgrounds and species living together, it only avoided becoming crowded through the sheer size of their living space. 

Thor knew that most of the Avengers had taken only warily to the group, and he did not blame them for their reserved nature. Their wariness was to be expected, considering that their first experience with extraterrestrial beings had been not only with Thor himself, but also with Loki and the Chitauri.

Thor – as an extraterrestrial being himself and having met and befriended various species in his long, eventful life – had no trouble accepting their visitors. Only few hours spent with the Guardians had proven them to be lively and enjoyable company. 

Had Thor not been occupied with a different matter altogether, he might have even found himself tempted to accompany the group on one of their trips to explore Midgard. 

As it was, he had something more important on his mind.

Thor wasn't sitting close enough to make the words out, but Nebula shook her head in response to something Loki was saying. Thor peeked over the magazine he had grabbed from his teammate. Loki kept talking – if only Thor had mastered the skill of lip reading – and Thor leaned closer, trying to make out something of what was being said.

Somebody dropped into the armchair beside him and Thor flinched violently enough to rip a tear into the paper. He winced again, this time imagining what Natasha would say once she came to reclaim her property. 

Thor looked up and realized that the person who had joined him was Gamora, Nebula's sister. "What are you doing?" he asked, and wished his voice had not sounded as sharp as it had. 

"Nothing." Gamora's answer had come too quickly. She shifted in her seat, but had her brows set in a frown that suggested stubbornness and a refusal to leave. "Stark allowed us to stay in this part of the tower."

"Yes," Thor said, trying to soften his voice. "I know. Of course."

They sat in silence, and Thor tried to make himself look like he was engulfed in the magazine. 

"What are you doing?" Gamora asked.

"Nothing," Thor said, wincing as he realized he was mirroring Gamora. "Just... reading. I am keeping myself informed on the happenings of this world." He had not taken in a single word of the paper in his hands since picking it up.

Gamora hummed. "So... how long have they been talking?" she asked, failing to make the question sound casual.

Thor’s eyes were drawn back in to the other end of the room. "I am uncertain. They have been sitting together since I have come here but do not seem to be exchanging many words."

"My sister isn't the chatty type." Gamora grabbed for the nearest object on the table in front of her – another of Natasha's magazines, its title story detailing a celebrity's Vegas wedding – and opened it without sparing it a glance. "Until recently, I didn't think she was the type to voluntarily spend time with anyone."

"My brother is not so different. Although he is prone to use his words in order to gain–”

Thor's sentence cut of abruptly as Loki made a move. His brother leaned back to sprawl in his seat, propping up his chin on his hand and speaking words that Thor could not make out but imagined in a bored, aloof drawl. 

“What are they talking about?” Gamora hissed, startling Thor and doing such a bad job pretending not to watch the two, Thor immediately felt self-conscious about himself.

“I do not know,” Thor murmured. 

“They're not scheming together, are they?”

Thor slowly turned his head to look at Gamora. “Is that something your sister would do?”

Gamora met his gaze. “Is it something your brother would do?”

There was a pause. As one, Thor and Gamora went back to watching their semi-redeemed siblings. Against his will Thor found himself imagining another alien invasion, led by his brother and who used to be a daughter of the Mad Titan himself.

Loki leaned back in his seat, propping up his chin on his hand in a lazy sprawl. He let his eyes stray over to Thanos' daughter – his former daughter, if her stories were to be believed – and made sure to convey carelessness in his next sentence. 

"You realize we are being watched, do you not?"

Nebula flashed him a brief, annoyed glare. Her eyes dropped back onto the mess of wires and bits of machinery in her lap, and she continued fiddling with them as though Loki was only worth half her attention. Loki's smirk widened. 

"I know. Her name's Gamora. She insists upon our bond as sisters and has begun to take an insufferable amount of interest in my personal life."

Loki blinked. "Oh? The other is Thor. He refuses to stop calling me his brother and is just as insufferable."

Nebula's hands paused. "Really?" 

Both of them turned their heads. Thor and Gamora ducked behind some sort of journal with the subtlety of an intoxicated Bilgesnipe and pretended as though they had not been intently watching. 

"I cannot believe we are related," Nebula muttered.

"Neither can I," Loki said, and froze as he realized what he had said. 

He had no time to contemplate the slip up – a more fitting response would have been that family was as sentimental of a notion as it was a useless one – before Nebula moved on. 

"It has not been long since we have tried to murder one another on a regular basis," she said, using a tone that suggested she might as well have been talking about the weather. 

Loki thought of his recently failed invasion and their prior conflict. "So have we."

"I suppose it was... not undeserved." Nebula's brows were knit in a frown. "I had still been following Thanos' orders."

"... So had I." Loki leaned forward, looking at Nebula with new interest. "I suppose we are similar in more ways than one."

In fact, if Loki were prone to walking around in his Jotunn form, people might come to believe it was them who were related. Or they would, were it not for the chunks of machinery that marked Nebula as something else entirely. 

"What made you change your mind?" he asked, and he pitched his voice into a mocking tone to add, "What made you join the heroes?"

Considering Nebula's disgusted expression, Loki found it safe to say that she related to the derision in his voice. "I am not one of them. The only reason I am here is because I hate Thanos more than I hate everybody else."

Loki gave a slow nod. "I, too, am rather intent on ending your dear father's crusade." At least he was now that he had failed his mission and was almost certainly going to be punished for it. Or else end up as collateral damage.

Going by Nebula's thunderous expression, she did not agree with his words. "He is not my father." 

Loki mentally added the detail to the list of their similarities.

"I dearly hope you will be the one with the honor to end Thanos' life." If Nebula put an end to all of it, Loki would not have to come anywhere near the psychopath. 

"I will be," Nebula vowed, her eyes darkened in either determination or revenge fantasies. The dark look dropped off of her face, and Nebula's eyes twitched to Loki momentarily. With an uncomfortable frown, she said, "I... appreciate the sentiment."

The genuine tone of her voice took Loki aback. "You are welcome."

Perhaps Loki had found another person whose presence in the tower was anything other than a major annoyance or inconvenience.

"They're bonding," Gamora realized, her eyes pinned back on their siblings and her voice swaying between incredulity and something else entirely. 

Thor wasn’t certain whether to be horrified or gleeful. "I did not think my brother was willing to get closer to anybody," he muttered, watching as Loki said something that made the line around Nebula's mouth relax. 

"Neither was my sister." Gamora hesitated. "Should we... put a stop to this?"

"What?" Thor blinked in puzzlement. "Whatever should we do that for? Is this not a wonderful development?"

"They're both recovering super villains," Gamora deadpanned. "What if they fall back into old habits? What if they drag each other back into old habits?"

As one, the two turned back towards Loki and Nebula. Loki sported a mildly worrisome, wide grin as he listened to Nebula. 

"Perhaps we should ask someone for advice," Thor said, slowly. 

"Oh?" Gamora raised an eyebrow without looking away from their siblings. "Who?"

"He killed people, Nebula!"

Tony made no attempt to keep his voice down. If Nebula insisted on making bad life choices, he felt like she deserved having that fact known to the rest of the tower. If only to warn them to expect the potential nearing catastrophe. 

"So have I," Nebula said, pinning Tony with an unimpressed glare. "My sister could have easily been one of them."

Tony supposed that was fair. He couldn't even claim that his own hands were clean of blood. 

"Yeah well, you didn't try to conquer our planet and rule over us. He almost succeeded."

"You Midgardians are very conquerable,” Nebula said.

"Are you... Excuse me, are you defending him right now?" 

"My brother has left that part of his life behind him," Thor said, no longer pretending to not be listening in on the conversation. "I would ask that you do not use it to speak against him further."

Tony let out a huff, throwing a glance at Thor – and Gamora. "You're the ones who wanted me to make sure they wouldn't end up ruling the world together."

"If it helps, Stark," Loki looked up from his far too relaxed position on Tony's couch, "I no longer feel the need to conquer your puny, worthless realm."

"Neither do I," Nebula said.

Tony pinned both of them with a half-hearted glare. "I wasn't asking. But thanks. I guess."

Tony wasn't sure when his life had reached the point of him hosting two (hopefully) former super villains in his home. If nothing else, perhaps it would pay off once one of them fell back into bad habits and tried to overthrow humanity. Again. Perhaps Tony would be spared as reward for feeding them and letting them use his Netflix account.

Thor chose this moment of Tony questioning his life choices to shoulder past him, his arms stuffed full with what must have been half of Tony's pantry. 

"I have brought food and refreshments!" he declared needlessly, dropping his haul on the coffee table under Loki's and Nebula's dubious eyes. "Midgardian food and beverages have been a great experience of bonding since I first came here."

Loki's mouth twitched in irritation. "We are not 'bonding'. Nor do we need your Midgardian trash in order to hold a conversation."

"My Midgardian trash, to be specific," Tony said. "This is my tower. Hence, my food." 

Thor was too busy beaming at the sight of his crazy, homicidal brother making a friend to care about Tony's protest, and Tony let the matter go with an exasperated sigh.

Back in the kitchen, Clint and Natasha had opted to observe the – former, as they kept being assured – super villains from a distance. Natasha didn't have to look at Clint to know he was glaring. 

"I can't believe we're allowing these two maniacs to befriend each other," Clint muttered. He made no move to stalk into the common area and do something against it, his trust in Tony just a bit stronger than his grudge against Loki. 

Personally, Natasha doubted that "friends" was quite the right word to use to describe the emotionally stunted beings sitting in the room next door. Potentially future partners in homicide might have been a more accurate term, while Tony seemed more like a hostage than an actual willing friend. 

Perhaps Natasha was exaggerating on that last point. If she actually believed Tony was in danger she would have already done something about it – although it still baffled her that with all her experience in reading people, she could not identify either of the aliens as an active threat. Not even Loki, who had reeked of craziness and megalomania only months prior. 

"SHIELD won't stand a chance." Natasha kept her voice quiet and let her eyes sway from the set of questionably redeemed, younger siblings to the pair of protective older siblings preening over them. (One of them more obviously so than the other.)

"At least they're slightly less hostile than the younger two," Clint muttered, picking up on Natasha's meaning effortlessly. "I didn't sign up for this team to run a daycare for homicidal aliens."

"Feels more like sibling therapy," Natasha said, and fell silent as Thor threw an arm around his visibly rigid going brother. 

"As much as I hate breaking up the party," Tony said in a tone that suggested the exact opposite, "if you're up for it, I've finished up with the mind stone."

Nebula was on her feet before Tony had so much as finished speaking. "We can start then?"

Tony flashed her a grin and pushed himself to his feet. "My lab’s waiting. Let's try blowing up this piece of rock."

Nebula didn't follow Tony's lead immediately. "It is not a matter of trying. The power stone will be able to handle it. Will your lab be?"

"I tried my best at the containment unit I built for it," Tony said, which wasn't an answer at all. The corner of his lips tugged upwards. "I guess we'll find out."

Natasha and Clint watched as the two of them headed off towards the lab, Gamora hot on their heels. Thor paused and scanned the common area with a quick glance before moving on to the next room, Loki in tow. If Natasha were to guess, she would assume he was checking that none of the children were anywhere near the lab.

Clint and Natasha shared a glance. 

"Want to go out for some coffee?" Clint asked. 

Natasha wordlessly grabbed for her jacket and lead the way out of the common area. By the time they stepped out of the tower she was already calculating when it would approximately be safe to return.

Neither of them had gotten this far in their career as SHIELD agents without a healthy dose of self-preservation. 

When he entered the common area of Stark's tower after a video call with his father, it was utterly desolated. This confused T'Challa. 

In all the weeks they had thus far spent in America there had not been a single instance in which the tower had been empty. With so many people to call it their temporary home, it had been a gamble as to what sort of company one would find themselves in each day.

T'Challa had just begun contemplating the reason for finding it now empty when an explosion shook the entire room – if not the entire tower – and almost made him fall over. 

T'Challa spent several heartbeats panicking about Shuri’s safety before he remembered that Okoye had taken her out into the city – far away from the tower and from whatever had caused the explosion.

Or rather, whoever.

The clawed glove T'Challa had slipped on instinctively was lax in his hand as he watched two of Stark's guests – Gamora and Nebula – enter the room coughing, their clothes covered in scorch marks and grime. Stark brought up the rear end, his hair standing up and black smears decorating his face.

"Are you unhurt?" T'Challa asked before realizing that it would have been well within his rights to demand to know what was going on, first. 

Instead of answering, Stark shot him cheerful smile. "Three down," he said, not having the courtesy to explain what he was talking about, "three more to go."

Nebula let herself drop into one of Stark's armchairs, uncaring of the soot she was smearing all over it. 

Chapter Text

A change of clothes and a roll of tape to seal off the lab later and Tony was busy getting rid of the last traces of soot that were stubbornly refusing to leave his face. 

"You gotta get that thing under control," he said, sparing Nebula a glance and marveling for the dozenth time that none of the machinery in her body had taken any damage during the blast that had destroyed the entirety of his lab – and, more importantly, the mind stone. 

Tony supposed that as the vessel of the power stone, Nebula was given the added bonus of not falling victim to its destructive force while using it.

Nebula gave him an intent gaze. "You are lucky it was only your tower that was destroyed."

Tony let that statement hang in the air. "Wait, one sec. Please tell me you actually tested it before using it with me in close proximity." 

Nebula avoided his eyes. "I used it to murder a psychopath, and again to destroy the soul stone."

Tony stared. "You blew up a planet both of those times."

Nebula didn't answer.

Tony let himself drop back into his seat bonelessly. "This is the closest I’ve come to dying this time around,” he realized. 

"Quit being dramatic."

"Excuse you. I'm not the one who risked blowing up the entire planet instead of getting a grip on my power-up, first." He let out a huff. "It's not even your own planet you gambled."

Clearly the best course of action was to help Nebula practice her new found powers – mostly as insurance that Earth wouldn’t fall victim to them another time, but also out of plain, scientific curiosity. 

"Sir. The director of SHIELD is requesting permission to enter the penthouse."

"I already told you what to do with people trying to," Tony froze as the words caught up with him. "Did you say director? Wait, did you say requesting?"

Nick Fury did not make requests. He made demands or gave orders. He definitely didn't invest time in coming to the tower himself – especially not now, weeks after everything had started to go down – not if he could send some of his agents instead.

"Yes, Sir. Director Fury is waiting for your answer." A note of amusement entered JARVIS' voice. "It would appear that he has grown tired of his subordinates failing to move further than the entrance hall."

"Huh." Tony paused. "Okay. Whatever. Send him up, JARVIS."

"You're allowing a stranger to come here?" Nebula asked, disapproval in her voice.

"He's not a stranger. I've known him for years." Tony knew Fury well enough to take him seriously when he decided to make an appearance in person. 

"You trust him?"

Tony hesitated. "I... wouldn't say that."

Tony didn't know Fury enough to trust him. At the very least, he trusted him not to throw Nebula into a cell while she was under Tony's protection. 

Even if Fury wanted to, it wasn't like he'd succeed. Few people were able to hold Nebula where she did not want to be, and she did not need Tony to make sure of that. Still, it was the sentiment that counted. 

"I don't want you to get rid of him for me or anything like that," Tony clarified before Nebula could get any ideas. "Just let me talk to him. I don't think he's gonna do anything stupid."

Nebula gave a careless shrug and a grunt that Tony interpreted as agreement. 

He tentatively decided to trust Nebula not to murder Fury in cold blood the second he entered the penthouse and focused his attention on the doorway. 

Fury was missing the air of confident superiority that Tony had learned to expect from him. Rather, his expression was closed off and wary. 

"Stark." Fury wore a scowl Tony knew not to take personally. "Care to tell me what you've done to my agents?"

Tony blinked. "Why do you think I did anything to the spy twins?"

"Their last couple of reports can be summed up as 'Good luck and leave us out of it'," Fury deadpanned, forcing Tony to hide a snort. 

"I don't control what they do or don't tell you. You're the one paying them, not me.” Although Tony couldn’t deny that he was pleased at the implication that Natasha and Clint had decided to be Avengers first, and SHIELD agents second. “Care to tell me what you're actually here for?"

"You want to speak frankly?" Fury said. "Fine. How's this: Is it true that you're harboring an illegal extraterrestrial being in your home?"

"Of course not," Tony said, not batting an eyelash.

Fury glared. "That was a rhetorical question. She's standing right next to you."

“I’m his cousin,” Nebula said.

“His… cousin.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “My cousin.”

Fury’s glare deepened.

“She’s not from here,” Tony added. 

“She’s blue.”

"She's from Norway."

Fury kept glaring. Tony refused to look away first. Eventually, Fury heaved a sigh. 

"I'm not being paid enough to deal with you," he muttered, very likely talking about Tony and not the blue-skinned alien standing in the same room as them. "This isn't my problem.”

“You’re the one who decided to come here,” Tony reminded him. 

“Somebody has to make sure you’re not going to blow up the planet.” 

“I wouldn’t be worried about me,” Tony muttered, stealing a conspicuous glance at Nebula.

In a way, Tony did sort of feel bad for Fury. He'd become the director of SHIELD for reasons similar to those Tony had for becoming an Avenger: to protect Earth from threats that it wouldn't be able to face on her own. 

He'd made it his job to collect information and know more than everybody else in order to stay on top of things. Then Tony had waltzed in, uncovered conspiracies and threats he couldn't have possibly known of and proven that SHIELD was almost laughably unequipped to deal with them. 

Tony may not agree with everything Fury had done over the course of their long, rocky relationship, but he could admit that Fury had never done anything to make him doubt that they were on the same side. 

At least nothing Tony hadn't eventually gotten over.

"By the way," Tony added, deciding to pull Fury into the circle of people who knew the truth about him, "Carol says hi."

Fury froze. 

Tony's lips pulled into a smirk. "Say, how many conspiracy theories about me have you read?" 

Fury paused, considering him with narrowed, suspicious eyes. "Most of them."

"How'd you like the one about me being from the future?" 

"It's right below the one of you being brainwashed by one of your alien visitors," Fury promptly answered, luring a snort from Tony.

"Yeah, well. I don't know about that one, but I can confirm the former."

Another pause. "You've met her? You've met Carol?"

Tony's smile dimmed. "Not in the best of circumstances. She no longer knows I even exist. It never happened for anyone other than me and Nebula.”

"You don't know where she is, then?"

"Right now? Afraid not." Tony hesitated, contemplating. "I might be able to find a way to contact her, though. If you really wanted to."

"That right?" Fury huffed. "In that case tell her to get a damn cell phone. I don't know how much longer my pager's battery is gonna hold up."

Tony's mouth dropped open. He froze. Was this a stroke? Was this what a stroke felt like? 

"Did you say pager?" Under his breath, he muttered, "What the fuck, Carol."

The corner of Fury's mouth tugged upwards. "We met in the 90s, Stark. What did you expect?"

"I'm kind of used to a tad more innovation coming from up there." A pager. Tony hadn't actually planned on involving Carol unless the end of the world was about to happen. Again. But a pager? Tony was seriously considering changing his mind just because of that.

Fury gave him a long, contemplative look and Tony refused to budge under the weight of it. 

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Fury said eventually, "but it seems like you know what you’re doing. Somehow."

All mishaps and developments considered, Tony had to agree with Fury. He might have failed spectacularly at keeping a low profile – not that he'd particularly tried from the start – but he had so far brought a large number of their allies together, made sure to keep the peace within his own team and seen half of the infinity stones destroyed. 

"There's a lot at stake," Tony allowed. "We gotta be at our best if we want to stand a chance later on."

"And you know all about those stakes?" 

"I lived through them," Tony answered curtly. "I think I've got a pretty good idea."

Fury looked away and sighed. "I can't say I enjoy not having all of the cards." His eyes swayed to Nebula. "Or to simply take you at your word on who is and isn't our ally."

"First time for everything." Tony shared a glance with Nebula and forced himself to drop the teasing tone. "The spy twins can keep you up to date. We're on the same side. It would be stupid not to accept your help, if you're offering."

"And you're telling my agents everything?" Fury raised his eyebrow doubtfully.

"Everything I remember," Tony said. "Everything I think will be important. Look, it's not easy to keep track of everything, alright? I'm doing my best."

"You could have done worse," Nebula grumbled, her way of giving Tony a compliment. At least he was pretty sure that it was. He'd take it as such. 

"Right back at you." Tony's mouth curved in a smile. "Considering everything that went sideways last time, I'm honestly kind of impressed."

Fury looked like he wanted to ask about the details. It was in his nature to collect intel and widen his perspective, to collect the cards he needed to stay on top of the game they played. 

It was also his nature to read between the lines and interpret Tony and Nebula's behavior beyond the words they shared. He seemed to decide not to make them talk about the disaster that had been the timeline they'd come from. Whatever his reasons, Tony appreciated it. 

"Just promise that you’ll contact me if there's something we're able to do." Fury's expression was pinched as though it physically pained him to admit not being at the top of things for once. 

His alternative in the other timeline had been to lose his entire organisation – and almost his life – to HYDRA. He’d live.  

Besides, if Fury was already offering... "There's one thing," Tony admitted, furrowing his brows. He hadn't asked for assistance so far because SHIELD had been scrambling to clean up after their HYDRA reveal. 

"Look, there's this thing I kinda hoped to wrap up ages ago. It's so far proven a bit... difficult to pull off without giving it my full attention." And with so many other things taking up his mind, there was no way for Tony to give the twins his full attention. 

"Tell me what it is and I'll see what I can do," Fury said, massaging his temples with one hand and sounding incredulous that he was essentially asking Tony for orders. 

Tony supposed that after the last few weeks Fury was willing to swallow his ego if it meant stepping his foot back into the ring. He tried not to enjoy the moment too much.

"There are two HYDRA operatives we managed to pull over to our side last time around," Tony started. "Twins. Both mutants, as far as I know. Kind of hate my guts, which is why they joined HYDRA in the first place."

"Romanoff and Barton mentioned them." Fury furrowed his brows. "You were trying to find them back when you retrieved the Winter Soldier. You haven't found them?"

"Things kind of kept happening afterwards," Tony admitted, suppressing a wince. "I've still got people on it," including JARVIS, "but they kind of slipped into the background. So far they've done a pretty decent job of keeping themselves hidden." 

"You cannot be serious." Nebula leveled a glare at Tony that could have made a seasoned fighter wet themselves. "I have been sitting in this tower entirely without use, and you did not think to simply tell me?"

"I kind of want them retrieved alive and unharmed. Not maimed and traumatized."

Nebula crossed her arms. "I am more than capable of exercising restraint."

"Are you though?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "You sure?" 

"Just send her along with us." Exasperation weighted heavily in Fury's voice as though he had reached the end of his rope. "We'll find them and make sure she doesn't go overboard."

Seeing as 'us' most likely included Clint and Natasha, Tony wasn't exactly reassured by the offered solution.

Then again, Pietro and Wanda weren't helpless. They'd done a pretty good job at staying under the radar until now. Perhaps sending in the cavalry was exactly the right course of action to finally secure them and begin working on a way to redeem them.

And if they made trouble? Tony doubted that there was a better way of making them regret their ill chosen loyalties than sending three of SHIELD’s finest and Nebula after them. 

If Tony wasn’t quite as petty of a person, he might have found it in himself to feel sorry for them.

Random Goon #62 felt close to crying. During these last few weeks (or had it been months?) her life had taken a turn not only for the worst, but for the most bizarre and ridiculously insane. She’d grudgingly accepting that she had only herself to blame for the way her life had turned out – although on the other hand, she ought to have killed puppies in cold blood to deserve even an ounce of this suffering. 

If only she was still sitting in her cozy, peaceful cell at SHIELD. If only that bunch of fellow HYDRA agents hadn’t staged a break out. If only she hadn’t gotten swept up along with them. 

#62 hated being on the run. She hated being wanted by the government and SHIELD and the Avengers. Sure, she'd been a prisoner at SHIELD, but at least she’d had some peace and quiet. At least she hadn't been in danger of being hunted down by the Avengers. 

#62 wasn’t sure how she managed to get herself into these messes. Sitting in some abandoned base in the middle of nowhere in some European country she didn’t remember the name of definitely wasn’t what she imagined her life would lead to. 

"Pietro?"

"What?"

#62 turned her head to look at her fellow fugitives. 

"Are you going to take the first watch?" the female one asked, the harsh lines around her mouth speaking of the long time they'd spent running for their lives. 

Her brother nodded, sharing a grim look with her. #62 felt slightly better knowing that she wasn't the only one tired of it all.

She counted herself lucky that they had the mutant twins with them. All these weeks of being on the run had done nothing to teach #62 any actual survival skills. Forget the government or SHIELD, #62 would be done for if she so much as left the base and wandered around the wilderness on her own. 

She was pathetically glad to have some super powered mutants on their side.

She also wondered how her life would have turned out if she, too, had been born with superpowers. Maybe she'd be a super villain by now. Who knew. (She’d bet that the health benefits would be better than in her current occupation as a fugitive.)

Muffled yelling and curses from the front of their hideout told #62 that her life was about to once again metaphorically beat her over the head with a bludgeon. Hadn't she suffered enough for her sins? Wasn't hanging out with technically-neo-nazis on a daily basis enough of a punishment for joining them in the first place?

#62 imagined herself trying to explain her reasoning in front of a judge and promptly felt the urge to burst into hysterical tears. 

The urge was amplified when a blue-skinned woman with a blaster for an arm rounded the corner and scanned the room with a curt, efficient gaze. The protesting yells that had announced her arrival had ceased. 

"Maximoff," the blue-skinned woman snarled. (Blue! Why was she blue? Was it related to whatever powers she had? Was she born this way? Was she simply a weirdo?) "Show yourselves."

It said something about #62's life that she almost cried in relief when Black Widow and Hawkeye followed in the bossy blue lady's wake. They sported expressions bordering on exasperation and made no attempt to hide their presence. 

They may not have acted less hostile towards a bunch of fugitive HYDRA agents, but at least #62 knew (somewhat) what to expect from them. 

Predictability or not, her chances of getting out of this alive were still practically zero.

#62 lost track of everything that happened afterwards. All she knew was that by the end of it the twins – who were supposed to be their trump card – were captured, her fellow HYDRA goons secured or dead and #62 widely unharmed. It may have been related to the fact that she’d frozen on the spot and hadn’t actually raised a single finger to defend herself. 

Perhaps she’d simply looked too pitiful to register as any sort of threat. 

She later blamed it on the adrenaline in her system and the part of her mind that had already finished circling through the stages of grief. 

#62 watched blankly as yet another pair of suicidal HYDRA agents were mowed down by the crazy blue lady and her metal arm. Next she knew, she found herself on her knees in front of Black Widow, contemplating whether kissing her boots was more likely to give her bonus points or a quicker death. 

"Take me with you," she begged, uncaring about how pathetic she sounded. She channeled everything she remembered from theater class in 8th grade by making tears well up in her eyes and hoped it would be enough to pierce through to Black Widow's cold, possibly non-existent heart. "I didn't want any of this! Just throw me back into my cell at SHIELD."

Hopefully she'd be getting a sturdier one. One that those lunatics from HYDRA wouldn't manage to bust her out off. If anybody was unlucky enough to get unwillingly swept up in a prison break a second time, it was #62. 

Black Widow looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, and #62 contemplated fainting on the spot. Weren't there animals who played dead as a survival tactic? Perhaps the same would work out for her. 

"Get up," Black Widow said, and #62 realized that not much else was needed until she’d no longer need to merely pretend to faint. If Black Widow so much as raised her voice at her, she'd drop into blessed oblivion. 

#62 obeyed. Black Widow gave her a once over. She shared a glance with Hawkeye and smirked. 

#62 was flooded with regret and the desperate wish to be able to join the lucky HYDRA soldiers lying stiff on the ground.

A few weeks and a ridiculous amount of rehabilitation sessions later, #62 found herself with a probational shackle around her ankle and a desk job at Stark Industries. The work was boring and monotonous and she did the same thing every single day. Nothing special ever happened to mix it up, and the craziest things happening in her life were watching the Avengers on TV after their most recent insanity was long done for.

#62 clocked in for another day at her dull, predictable, well-paid job, stifled a yawn and took a moment to send a prayer of gratitude to all the metaphorical and literal deities she knew of.

Chapter Text

"Hey, so what exactly did you talk about with Fury?"

Tony paused long enough in his sandwich making efforts to throw a glance at Clint. He couldn't be overly anxious to hear the answer, seeing as he didn’t look up from his lazy sprawl on the couch. 

"He wouldn’t keep his eyes off his phone last time I saw him,” Clint added. “Kept muttering something about a highscore when I tried to ask if something was wrong."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I should have never mailed Carol that StarkPhone," he grumbled, tossing tomatoes on his sandwich with more force than they probably deserved. "Fury won't shut up about beating her in Candy Crush."

Natasha looked up from the other end of the couch and gave a slow, deliberate blink. "... Candy Crush?"

"Who's Carol?" Clint asked. 

"Oh, she's in space. And busy. There’s so many planets out there, we might not be seeing her often. Don't worry about it."

"... Okay.” Natasha went back to doing her nails.

"Wait, you mailed her?” Clint said. “In space?"

"Well. Figuratively." Tony waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. "She's got the phone and we no longer have to rely on a pager from the 90s, which is all that matters."

"Obviously," Clint muttered, rolling his eyes and unpausing his video game. 

A sharp intake of breath sounded from the doorway and Tony stiffened as his eyes met Wanda's hateful glare. 

"... Hello there," he said, displaying the sort of recklessness and lack of self-preservation that baffled even himself. There was a reason he and the twins had been keeping a healthy distance between each other since coming to live together in the same tower.

Wanda wouldn’t stop glaring daggers at Tony. He’d almost finished debating the ups and downs of calling his nearest armor in self defense when she turned on her heel and stormed down the hallway, muttering frantically under her breath. 

Tony stared after her. He turned to Clint and Natasha. "You just saw that, right? That just happened?"

"That was weird," Clint agreed. "I honestly expected her to take a shot at you any second."

"Thanks for the support,” Tony deadpanned. “Good to know my teammates have my back.” 

Tony hesitated, looking after the spot Wanda had disappeared from. "JARVIS. Keep an eye on her and her brother, will you?" 

As confident in himself (and, despite all of their bickering, in his teammates) as Tony was in fending off one assassination attempt or another, if given the choice, he'd much rather spare himself the hassle. 

Wanda stalked down the brightly lit hallway – Stark's hallway, because everything in this godforsaken tower belonged to Stark – muttering heatedly under her breath. She cut off in a frustrated growl once she realized that it wasn't working.

"JARVIS," Wanda pressed out through clenched teeth. It made her voice sound stilted. "I would appreciate it if you could tell me where to find my brother."

"He has just relocated to your chambers," JARVIS said. "May I inquire as to your wellbeing? I detect both an elevated heart and respiratory rate."

"Fine." Wanda didn't manage to say more for fear of failing to hold back a frustrated scream. JARVIS may have been an AI – and as such not actually a person – but of all the people in the tower, he was one of those Wanda didn’t want to turn against her.

She was growing tired of her own inability to manage her emotions. Her chest was bursting with ill-contained rage and hatred constantly – which wasn't surprising, seeing as she was involuntarily living in the same building as the cause for said anger. 

She didn't want to feel angry all the time. She didn't know what to do to quell it. 

She hoped a talk with her brother would bring her closer to a solution.

"I set my eyes on him and it feels as though I am drowning in anger," she told him, clenching her hands into fists and suppressing the powers that were attempting to rise up in response to her agitation. "He's here just... sauntering around the tower without a care in the world. And we can't– They won’t let us–”

"I know," Pietro interrupted, fidgeting with his hands and letting his leg bounce quickly enough to blur. 

"I don't want this anymore," Wanda admitted, keeping her voice low. "I hate him. I don't think he deserves to live after what he's done. But I don't want to... I don't want to be the one to..."

"I know." Pietro avoided her gaze. "Me neither."

Their time at HYDRA had given them a veil to hide behind. They'd been a part of something bigger, and they'd worked with people similar to themselves in terms of their grudge against Stark, his team and his country. 

They'd used HYDRA's resources, but they hadn't been the ones to procure them through organized crime or fraud. They'd honed their abilities through HYDRA, but they hadn't used them to kill people. They'd been with HYDRA, but they hadn't been HYDRA. They'd never been as bad as them. 

At least that was what they’d been telling themselves.

With HYDRA gone, so was the veil. There was only Pietro and Wanda left, and if they wanted Stark gone, there was only them to do the job. All of a sudden, killing another human being didn't seem as simple as HYDRA had made it out to be.

Their only alternative was to find other ways to cope with their hatred. Wanda knew that otherwise she would slowly drive herself insane. 

"JARVIS made some suggestions," Pietro went on, holding up a package and shaking it lightly. “He sent it up a couple minutes ago.”

"Oh?" JARVIS had been the one to suggest using a mantra in order to channel her concentration. Wanda was beginning to suspect he’d taken the idea straight from the internet. “What is it?”

Pietro shrugged. “Let's find out."

The anti-stress ball exploded in Pietro's hand the second he set eyes on Stark and clenched his hand in a surge of anger. Pietro stared at the cause for his agitation. Stark stared back. 

Pietro turned around and went to find his sister, deciding that they’d be better off not asking the AI for advice on things like emotions and how to deal with them. Hopefully they’d have more luck asking the other – considerably less inanimate – inhabitants of the tower.

"You used to want to kill your sister," Pietro opened the conversation, displaying perhaps not the level of self-preservation Wanda would like him to. "Right?"

The blue-skinned alien woman – Nebula – met his gaze unblinkingly. "Yes."

"But you don't anymore," Wanda pressed, feeling as though the clarification was necessary.

"I don't."

"Do you still feel like it from time to time?"

Nebula hesitated, which, in Wanda's opinion, could be either a good or a bad sign depending on the person. 

"No. I don't," Nebula settled on, and Wanda tried not to let her disappointment show. "I do miss the ability to dispose of my enemies permanently. It would solve many of our problems if some people weren't so squeamish about slaughtering beings who do not deserve better than to be put out of their meaningless existence."

Wanda and Pietro shared a look. Perhaps not exactly what they’d been going for, but it would have to be good enough. 

"How do you suppress it? Your anger?" Wanda asked. 

"I do not suppress my anger," Nebula said, narrowing her eyes. "Anger is a fuel. It would be foolish to forego it when victory could depend on your wrath carrying your body just an inkling further than it would have initially found itself capable of."

Wanda furrowed her brows. It was the first time somebody had told her that her hatred of Stark could be of use to her instead of harmful. "What do I do instead?"

"You channel it." Nebula met her eyes in a deep, intense gaze. "My adoptive father, Thanos, is the cause for all of my anguish. My hatred for lesser things does not matter in the depths of my rage."

"So... You're saying that..."

"Concentrate on whatever it is that you hate most in the world," Nebula said. "Turn your anger into determination of seeing it destroyed. You will find that your urges to cause pain and physical harm will diminish to the extent that you do not need to act on them."

Wanda followed Nebula's instructions to a T. She quickly realize that the strategy was not working as well as it was supposed to. 

Seeing as the focus of her rage was also the person she was supposed to be distracting herself from, Wanda was prepared to make a guess as to where exactly her error in judgement lay. 

They tried the scientist next. While not in his gigantic, destructive form of a gamma monster, Banner came across as rather approachable. 

"I... don't exactly cope with my anger," Banner mumbled, fidgeting his hands and looking somewhere that was not Wanda or Pietro. "I usually blank out in a rage and wake up to deal with whatever happened in my absence." He sent both of them a quick glance. "I hear meditation is supposed to help."

Wanda and Pietro shared a look, agreeing to file away the suggestion for later and keep on looking. They had not quite reached the point of desperation where they were going to try meditating. 

Barton and Romanoff beat the crap out of each other whenever one of them needed to let out frustration. They offered to pose as sparring partners for the two siblings whenever they needed it. 

Wanda and Pietro thought back to the spies' reputation at HYDRA, and respectfully – but determinedly – declined. 

Pietro had high hopes for any advice Loki – as a fellow former enemy of the Avengers – had to offer. They found him sprawled out on one of the couches in the common area, typing on the phone he must have been given by a member of the team – if he hadn't stolen it. 

"You would like to know how to resist the urge to commit murder?" he asked without looking up, his fingers tapping on the phone with a speed that made him look native rather than like an alien who'd been introduced to the technology only recently. 

Pietro wondered what somebody like Loki could possibly be doing with a phone. 

"It it simple. Every time somebody insists on irritating me, I think of the most gruesome, horrifying fate imaginable bestowed by my hand." He spared them a brief, dispassionate glance. "It usually works out well enough."

The next time they ran into Stark, Pietro and Wanda simply paused. And stared.

By the time Wanda's face split into a satisfied, bloodthirsty smirk, Stark seemed to count his blessings and backed off slowly, retreating into the direction of the kitchens where several of his teammates were currently attempting to cook. 

While undoubtedly the most effective strategy they'd attempted so far, Pietro wasn't entirely certain whether they should continue to utilize it with more than half a dozen trigger-happy superheroes under the same roof. 

He realized with mild concern that they were slowly but certainly running out of people to ask for advice.

"When my brother let go of my hand to fall into the void between dimensions," Thor began, "almost certainly leading to his death due to my foolish actions, I would crack jokes and smile with others to keep myself from falling into despair."

True to his words, Thor gave them an almost blindingly bright smile. 

"Seeing as my brother has not been consumed by the unceasing void and I have not allowed myself to drown in premature grief and desperation, it has mostly worked out for me."

Wanda thanked him for his advice and tried not to shy away as a heavy palm planted itself on her shoulder. Thor looked at her with a deep, genuine gaze. 

"I had thought my brother lost to me, even after he had proven to have survived his fall through space. Nobody else believed him capable nor willing to leave behind his evil ways in favor of joining our cause."

His hand tightened in a reassuring grip. 

"If you merely put your mind to it, I believe that you will be capable of achieving the same."

Wanda looked at Thor out of too wide, too vulnerable eyes and tried not to show that his words had both taken her aback and hit deeper than she’d ever expected. 

Wanda reluctantly realized that the thought of disappointing Thor was the exact opposite of appealing. She supposed that with an actual Norse deity – one too trusting and friendly for his own good, so it seemed – rooting for her, she no longer had a choice but to somehow make this redemption thing work.

Wanda blamed the years they'd spent with HYDRA for the fact that it took them this long to try their luck with Rogers. As the symbolic and literal archnemesis of HYDRA they hadn't exactly heard many flattering things about him in the several past years of their lives. 

Seeing as unless they planned to go to Stark himself for advice, there weren't exactly many alternatives left. She and her brother decided to jump over their own shadow and get it over with. 

Rogers stared at them blankly after they'd finished explaining their dilemma to him, and Wanda began to consider whether they should prepare to fight an infuriated national icon intent on protecting his teammate – despite said teammate not even being in the same room. 

"Okay," Rogers said, his voice carefully neutral and his gaze oddly intent. "I want you to forget everything the others have told you. Nobody in this tower has ever heard of a healthy coping mechanism before in their lives."

The statement itself didn't surprise Wanda as much as the fact that Rogers was uttering it. Especially considering that he seemed to be including himself with it. 

"Just," he sighed, radiating the sort of tiredness that suggested he yearned for the peace and coziness of his iceberg, "give me a couple hours. I’ll make some calls."

As it turned out, an actually trained, professional therapist was by far the better option to work through one’s issues than a group of poorly coping superheroes who all suffered from crippling PTSD in one way or another. 

Who would have thought?

Chapter Text

It was a sign of just how ridiculous Tony's life had become that he was able to walk in on two aliens – both of which he happened to consider close friends – in the middle of an arm-wrestling match and not find anything out of the ordinary about it. 

Peter (Parker, not Quill – they would have to start using name tags if the number of visitors in the tower kept rising at the rate that it was) and Shuri were engaged in what barely failed to be a shouting match over which of them was going to win. 

"Thor’s a god!” Peter empathized his point through passionate hand gestures. “Obviously there's no match for him. No offense, Miss Nebula. Ma’am.”

"He's not though,” Shuri said. “Not really. Technically they are both aliens."

"But Thor has the hammer! And nobody else can lift it. That already proves that he's the strongest."

"That's not how it works," Shuri argued, sporting a stubborn frown. "We already discussed this. The hammer is not difficult to lift because it is heavy, it is because–”

"It's enchanted. Yes, okay.” Peter crossed his arms in a petulant gesture that underlined his age. "I still think Thor's going to win."

"Foolish child," Loki drawled, draped over the couch next to the kids and working his way through a bag of Doritos. "I have known Thor for centuries. Believe me, without his hammer he is quite useless.”

"See?" Shuri broke out into a grin. "Told you. He's totally getting his butt kicked."

“The princess is almost definitely correct."

"Thank you for the support, brother." Thor sent Loki a glance that looked playful more than it looked affronted. "Why not join the fray and compete against whoever emerges victorious? It would make the game all the more interesting."

"I'll leave the mindless, brutish games to you," Loki said, suppressing a yawn. "Do feel free to get your 'butt kicked' anytime you wish. Preferably with me in close proximity."

"Enough talking." Nebula's expression suggested they were about to enter a duel to the death, rather than a friendly arm-wrestling match. Her arm flexed against Thor's impatiently. "Make peace with your gods and let the competition begin."

"Okay," Tony threw in, feeling the need to make his presence known. "Do go on, but do me a favor and leave the furniture and the kids in one piece."

If nothing else was expected of him as a host, he would at least have to make sure that the kids weren't about to become collateral damage.

He trusted Nebula with his life. He did not, however, trust her with the ability to judge a fragile human being's durability. He wouldn't trust Loki so much as with his coffee machine. 

"Have no fear." Thor gave him a wide, reassuring grin. "No harm shall come to them while I am here." His grin slipped off his face in a grunt as Nebula lost her patience and the match was on. 

Tony decided to be content with what he'd gotten. He could trust Thor. Probably. He was fairly certain he could count on him for the important things. 

"Right, before I forget." 

Tony threw a small object in Peter's general direction. Peter let out a yelp, barely managing to catch it with flailing limbs. 

Still no spider powers then. Tony hummed to himself, mildly glad that he wouldn't have to be dealing with a super-powered teen – and all the anxiety that it entailed – all over again just yet. 

He'd soon have to come up with another option of testing Peter. At the rate they were going he would end up developing reflexes because of Tony rather than through the spider bite, and Tony would be none the wiser. 

"Your aunt called," Tony offered in terms of explanation as Peter's eyes twitched to the asthma inhaler clutched in his hands. "You forgot this at home. I sent over a suit to pick it up."

"O-Oh! You shouldn't have, Mr. Stark!" Peter stuttered, a mild blush creeping over his face. “It’s not– I mean, I haven’t actually had an attack in ages. You didn’t have to send a suit for that. Aunt May is just being over-protective.” 

"Please," Tony swatted his hand dismissively. "I've used them for far weirder stuff." 

Like having it pick up his dry cleaning after he forgot to hire somebody to do it. Or painting it hot pink and sending it to fly loops around the city after losing a bet with Rhodey.

"Sir," JARVIS interrupted, his voice braving the chaos of the common area. "Dr. Banner inquires as to when you will find the time to pay a visit to the labs."

"Oh?" Tony entered the hallway, consulting his phone in passing to check for any appointments in dire need of cancellation. "Anything exciting down there?"

"He and T'Challa have made considerable progress with their research."

Several weeks into their visit to America, T'Challa had finally eased up on his concern for his sister. He no longer insisted on Okoye or himself accompanying her wherever she went, and he'd eventually caved and accepted Tony's offers to let him use the labs as it became more and more clear that the formal, diplomatic talks he'd initially come for weren't actually going to happen. 

"Tell Bruce that I'll pop in later," Tony said. He was already looking forward to throwing a glance at the sort of projects Bruce and T'Challa could come up with – currently shielding technology, if Tony's memory served him right. 

"Steve doesn't happen to be with them, does he?" Unless the two needed a guinea pig for testing out their projects – something Steve tended to agree to easily – he didn't have much of a reason to spend time in the labs. "Or is he in training rooms?"

"No, sir. Captain Rogers has gone out to meet with Mr. Wilson."

Tony hummed. "Any luck?" He'd managed to persuade Steve to do damage control with Sam after his multiple failed attempts to get him to visit the tower. 

(It may or may not have been related to Tony asking him to join the Avengers right off the bat. Pepper kept telling him that these sorts of things tended to be "overwhelming" to people. 

Rhodey simply told him he'd probably scared him off with his general Tony-ness.)

"As far as I know Mr. Wilson and Captain Rogers have a regular appointment to go running together in the mornings. Mr. Wilson has also accepted Captain Rogers' invitation to accompany him to the tower and join one of the team's sparring sessions."

"Nice." Sparring may not have been Tony's first choice of bonding. But if Sam was at the point where he agreed to exchange blows with Captain America himself for fun, it wouldn't be much longer until they'd persuade him to more harmless bonding activities as well. 

"Speaking of sparring," Tony said, steering towards the grunts of exertion coming out of the nearest training room, "how's the latest battle simulation coming along?"

"Perhaps you should see for yourself," JARVIS suggested, and he thoughtfully made the door slide open to invite Tony inside. 

Tony promptly dodged the sparking remains of one of his training dummies – one of the bulky, mindless ones he'd designed for simple, brute strength. It smashed into the wall beside him and made one sad little attempt to get up before admitting its defeat and powering down. 

Tony threw a glance at his teammates, one eyebrow raised. "Whoever blasted that robot should work on their aim. And consider collateral damage."

Clint had the courtesy of sporting a sheepish expression. It dropped into a grin almost immediately. "Sorry, man." He nudged his quiver with one elbow. "Tried out a new maneuver with my explosive arrows. It worked... better than expected."

Tony scanned the scorched remains of the training dummy with a more thorough, appreciative gaze. It was one of the dummies he'd designed to mimic one of the members of Thanos' black order – to the best of his abilities with the limited data he had. 

"Nice one," he said, stepping over the robot gingerly. "How's it going? Are the simulations working out?"

The rest of the dummies had frozen when the simulation was paused, Natasha and Pietro standing in their midst breathing quickly, but otherwise unruffled. They must not have been going at it for long. 

"The first couple tries were a bit easy," Clint admitted. "JARVIS is already cranking up the difficulty for us."

"It's the joy of using an unpolished simulation program. If something goes horribly wrong, you'll be right in the middle of it."

"Can't wait for it." Clint threw a grin over his shoulder and used the unscheduled break to gather the arrows he'd used so far. 

Pietro crossed his arms and stayed silent, a gesture that didn't look hostile so much as it looked guarded. It was fine with Tony. He doubted he and the twins would ever become friends, but at least they'd started to tolerate each other when they shared the same space. 

Tony scanned the training room with another quick glance. "Isn't Wanda with you?" They hadn't seen each other all day, so Tony had assumed she'd joined her brother and the spies for their sparring sessions. 

"Not today," Natasha said, picking up the taser weapon she seemed to have dropped during the session. "She declined."

"I haven't seen her since this morning," Pietro offered with a mild shrug. 

"Hmm. Alright then. Carry on." Tony speed-walked out of the training room (he didn't particularly felt like getting swept up in the training simulation while unarmed) and checked in with JARVIS as soon as he entered the hallway. "J?"

"Security footage suggests that Miss Maximoff has gone out to the city."

Tony blinked. "You mean alone?"

"No, sir. Okoye, Sergeant Barnes and most of the Guardians of the Galaxy have also gone. They seem to have wanted to 'go sightseeing' and seek 'variety after being cooped up in the tower for so long'."

Tony needed a moment to picture the group of people JARVIS had just listed. "Wait, are you saying they went alone? Please tell me someone else went with them. Anyone?"

"Negative. The question of a guide had been brought up, however the final consensus seemed to have been 'how hard could navigating one city possibly be?'"

"... Alright then." Tony supposed that this meant that two former HYDRA operatives, a member of the Wakandan royal guard and a group of actual aliens were wandering around New York – presumably lead by a human who hadn't stepped foot on Earth in several decades.

Tony idly wondered how much time had to pass for a search party to be reasonable. 

"Let me know if they aren't back by sunset," he settled on. No need to slide into a panic before the situation called for it. They'd be fine. Probably. Almost definitely. 

Tony paused, trying to determine which of the Avengers (officially or unofficially so) he had yet to check up on. As the weeks went by, it became more and more difficult to keep track and not forget anyone.

"When was the last time I tried to call Strange?"

"Just this morning, sir."

"Right. Yeah." Still no luck in their wizard department, then. Slowly but surely it was becoming ridiculous. At the rate they were going, Strange would be the very last of their players to make an appearance. "It's just like him to be fashionably late, isn’t it?"

"I wouldn't know, sir."

"He'll be barging in after everybody else is already here, all dramatic and mysterious like we haven't been waiting for him to magic up for ages."

"Not the theatrics," JARVIS said. "Anything but that."

Tony let out a huff, pausing long enough to glare at the nearest security camera. "It's a miracle I haven't scrapped and replaced you yet. One of these days you’ll leave me no choice.”

"I dread the day, sir."

Tony decided to make a quick detour to his workshop – he'd thought of a solution for the altitude problem he'd run into with Rhodey's new armor made from nano tech – and accept Bruce and T'Challa's invitation as soon as he was done. 

That was how Rhodey found him two and a half hours later: elbow-deep in his blueprints, having lost track of time somewhere between tweaking the armor's acceleration rate and circling through various different color schemes. (The silver and gray was just boring. Just because Rhodey had taken the armor before it had gotten a paint-job didn't mean he'd have to leave it that way.)

"Someone's busy," Rhodey said, letting his eyes sway over the various projects opened in form of holograms all over the workshop. 

"What, did you think I'd give myself a power-up and leave everybody else behind in the dust?" Showing off his Bleeding Edge armor that very first time had been incredibly satisfying. "You can do some tests with me in a couple more days. Make suggestions for adjustments. After that, it shouldn't be much longer until you can do a test flight."

"Can't wait," Rhodey muttered. Tony forgave the lack of enthusiasm because Rhodey was currently distracted scrutinizing the holograms. 

His gaze stuck to the Hulkbuster for a while (One never knew when Bruce needed an alternative to his alter ego. He'd probably have to come up with a new name for the armor, seeing as "Hulkbuster" hardly fit anymore.) before moving on to the newest of Tony's files. 

"What's ‘Rescue’?" 

Tony's lips pulled into a smirk. "You're gonna love this." 

Pepper and Rhodey were his two oldest friends, and at one point or another Tony'd been afraid that Iron Man would drive them both away – most notably during the whole Palladium fiasco. And again during the no-longer-existent Mandarin attacks. 

Tony couldn't wait until this, too, became a part of his life that all three of them shared. Pepper had agreed once before. Tony saw no reason she'd want to prefer standing on the sidelines this time. 

Tony was proven right in the form of a narrowly dodged repulsor blast on his way into the workshop a couple days later. 

"Tony!" Pepper gasped, about to clasp her hands in front of her mouth before realizing that the gauntlet she was wearing made it somewhat difficult. "Oh my god, are you alright?"

Tony appraised the destruction of his workbench and whistled. "Wow. Not bad for your first try."

Pepper flushed, the bright red clashing horribly with her hair. "I could have taken your head off!"

"I guess that means you'll have to work on your aim." Tony turned his head in the direction of a hesitant whir and watched DUM-E peek his claw out of what appeared to be his hiding place. “Is that what you’re doing in my workshop when I’m not there? Terrorizing my poor, helpless bots? You should be ashamed of yourself."

Pepper's blush darkened. 

"I offered to let him hold the fire extinguisher," she said defensively. "He... declined."

"More like ran for his life."

"I'm doing my best!" Pepper protested. 

Tony broke out into a smile. "I know you are. You're doing great."

"You make it look so easy."

"That's because I make sure to radiate confidence when I have no idea what I'm doing. And also make sure that nobody is ever present for my first dozen or so test runs." Tony reached out to check if the gauntlet still sat correctly. The fit around Pepper's arm was perfect. "Trust me, there was a lot of improvising involved when I was still figuring out the Mark II."

"Would you like me to pull up some of the recordings of your first test drives to demonstrate, sir?" JARVIS offered.

"... I'm sure there's other ways of motivating Pepper than showing her... that. Better ways. Far better, far less humiliating ways."

"Oh?" Pepper's head perked up. "Sounds very motivating to me, actually."

“Looks like somebody can’t wait to land on the market for unruly and no longer wanted AI today.”

"I aim to please, sir."

Tony let out a huff, pretending to ignore Pepper biting her lip to suppress a smile. "You know what? If I'm gonna lose the last remaining shreds of my dignity," he ignored Pepper's snorted laughter implying that it was far too late for that, "I'm gonna do it properly."

Tony pulled a notch on Pepper's glove to make it dismantle. 

"We're gonna get Rhodey down here, make some popcorn and make fun of my past self smashing into a wall while trying to figure out the repulsors."

Pepper lost the fight against her facial muscles and broke out into a grin. "You smashed into a wall?"

He sent her a mocking scowl. "I hope you appreciate this."

It had been long overdue for the three of them to spend time together, anyway. If it meant having to endure a couple hours of embarrassment, Tony supposed that was a sacrifice he’d just have to live with.

Fury saw it as his personal duty to make sure Stark and his entourage didn't blow up the tower – or New York – in the general chaos they caused through sheer proximity to each other. 

They hadn't caused a disaster thus far (other than the occasional mass panic when Stark's alien visitors insisted on treating the Earth like some tourist vacation spot), but Fury wasn't prepared to take risks with such a patchwork of superheroes, former supervillains and questionably allied extraterrestrial lifeforms. 

His phone buzzed, and Fury sent a glance at the security camera inside of the elevator before reading the new messages in the group chat. 

Nick Fury was not the kind of person who agreed to join group chats. If anybody tried to invite him to one, he would glare at them as long as it took for them to realize the audacity of their offer and revoke it. 

Carol deigning to upgrade their sole form of communication from a pager to an actual interplanetary operating phone was the one and only scenario that justified making an exception. 

And if it allowed him to catch up with someone he still considered a close friend – having gone through the experience of discovering alien life and going to space together – as well as her daughter (Monica was already in her 30s. Fury was getting old.), Fury supposed that there was only one more reason that justified the Director of SHIELD joining a group chat. 

Monica: Is Goose with you, Aunt Carol? 😮

Monica: We haven't seen her in a while!

Fury peered down at his fluffy, orange shadow and watched her serenely clean her paw. 

Goose had decided to pop up in his office only the day before. Fully knowing the fruitlessness of attempting to keep her contained in the room (and unwilling to put his job on hold for as long as Goose decided to stay), Fury had simply accepted that he’d be taking her along.

Monica often joked about sharing custody for Goose. In reality, they’d all learned to live with the fact that Goose did her own thing and decided for herself who she wanted to spend her time with.

Maria: I thought she was with you?

Monica: Nope. Had a colleague over for the weekend and she left. I don’t think she appreciated the company. 🤷♀️🤷♀️

Maria: Well wherever she is, I'm still waiting to get my military badge back.

Fury frowned down at Goose in disapproval. "Seriously? We've been over this, Goose." 

Goose paused and blinked up at him, her paw raised. She kept cleaning and didn't deign to answer him. Spoiled brat. 

Carol: i've got your badge

Maria: So she’s at yours.

Carol: nope. last time she was here she coughed up your badge, ate my communicator and left 

Carol: you're lucky she didn't take the phone

"If you're going to give back Carol's communicator," Fury said, "do me a favor and wait until we're elsewhere." It was bad enough that he had to take her along on official Avengers business. He didn't particularly feel like explaining her alien origin, too. 

It's fine, Fury typed in at last, she's with me. He slipped the phone into his pocket just before the elevator opened to the penthouse. 

Steve contemplated the necessity of diving for his shield when Loki burst over the doorway, sprinting. 

He'd come back from Sam's only a couple minutes earlier – after a brief detour when Tony had asked him to "shepherd home" their alien visitors. ("I'd do it myself, but you know how it is. Besides, you're already on the way.")

In any case, they'd all made it back to the tower safely, the kids (those not currently living at the tower) had gone home for the day, and now Loki was running towards them as if an entire Chitauri army was after him. 

"Brother...?" 

Loki narrowly avoided barreling into Thor in his effort to get his brother in between himself and the doorway. The sight might have been funny if it wasn't quite this concerning. 

"We need to get off this planet," Loki hissed, peering over Thor's shoulder anxiously. 

"Loki." Thor frowned. "What–”

Of all the people to have prompted this sort of reaction from Loki, Steve would not have guessed Nick Fury. Nick Fury, followed by an orange tabby.

"Where’d the cat come from?" Clint raised his eyebrow, evidently more interested in the cat than the formerly insane supervillain cowering behind his brother. “I thought you didn’t like pets.”

"I don't," Fury said. He didn’t offer to elaborate. "I'm here to check in about the Maximoff twi–”

"That's not a cat,” Thor interrupted.

Steve paused. Thor's face looked ashen and his voice held the same brand of sheer terror that Loki's did.

He backed away slowly, not so gently shoving Loki with him. "Have no fear... As long as we work together, we have a chance to take it..."

Steve took a second look at their visitors. It was still, undoubtedly, Nick Fury and an orange tabby cat. The cat flicked its tail. Half hidden behind his brother, Loki whimpered. 

"... You're kidding, right," Clint deadpanned. "This is a joke? That's what's happening, yeah?"

"What are you all standing here for?" Rocket came walking through the doorway, Gamora not far behind. "It's like you people have nothing better to do than– Holy crap what's that thing doing here?!"

Rocket's eyes were wide with horror. Gamora's frame went rigid, her hand itching towards one of her knives. 

Fury caught the gesture and scooped up the cat with a scowl in her direction. "If you so much as raise a finger against my cat, I will end you."

As soon as his hands touched the cat, Loki let out a strangled moan. 

Rocket whimpered. "Put it down. Seriously, put that thing down."

"It's a cat." Clint's eyes swayed around the room, trying to find someone who hadn't lost their minds. "You're all freaking out over a cat. Seriously?"

"It's not a cat," Thor said solemnly. "It's a Flerken." His voice cracked as he spoke the word. Steve had never seen him act like this before.

Loki eyed the nearest window as though he was contemplating to throw himself out of it. 

Rocket swayed on his feet as though he was seconds away from fainting. 

Fury looked as though he regretted coming to the tower. He did not, however, look surprised. "I'll come back another time," he said, still holding the cat to his chest. He eyed the aliens who all looked more or less close to bolting the room. "Don't worry. I'll leave Goose at home."

A strangled noise escaped Clint's throat – incredulity, rather than terror at the information. "’Goose’," he muttered, and he shook his head as though nothing ought to be surprising him anymore. 

Fury turned on his heel – after giving the cat a long, pointed stroke of its fur that made Thor look at him with something akin to reverence – and headed off towards the elevators.

"Are you kidding?!" Rocket hiss-whispered – almost as though he was afraid to raise his voice and anger... Goose. "How am I supposed to relax ever again, knowing this thing is on the planet?!"

"Who was that?!"

"Is he your leader?"

"– never before witnessed such proof of bravery."

"– stroked it! He touched a Flerken, and he still has all of his limbs left!"

"I mean, did you see his eye? We should have seen he was a badass right away."

"... A cat. Guys, it was a cat."

"If that's what you need to tell yourself to sleep at night."

Chapter Text

In Tony's defense, he'd had a couple of insanely busy months. He’d spent every second of his time rounding up their allies, gathering resources and generally preparing for what lay ahead of them. 

It wasn't that he'd forgotten about Killian – it was rather difficult not to remember the guy who'd had his penthouse blown up, had him stranded in Tennessee (he could perhaps, maybe let that one pass for the sole reason of having gotten Harley out of it), and had kidnapped Pepper. Oh, and also the president. 

Tony had definitely planned to confront him and get rid of him properly. Eventually. Preferably before Killian had the opportunity to come up with a plan even more dangerous than his first. But then there'd been Loki and Nebula and the Guardians and so many others joining the fray week after week, Killian had just kind of slipped into the background. 

Besides, it wasn't like Tony had completely ignored him. JARVIS, once given the command, had done a splendid job sabotaging AIM and getting Killian's underlings arrested, practically crippling it from the inside. There would be no exploding people or kidnapped presidents this time around, Tony had made quite sure of that. 

It wasn't his fault that Killian had decided to take it personally. Again.

"Tony, Tony, Tony." Killian shook his head as though he was talking to a misbehaving child.

Tony sensed the beginning of a monologue and took the time to wonder how it was that of all the universal constants, monologuing villains was the one every superhero was forced to deal with.

"I have to say, I'm impressed. Here I was, thinking I'd successfully gone under the radar for years. There was no way the Tony Stark would remember some... some loser he'd met this one time at a gala while drunk, was there?" Killian's lips twisted into some resemblance of a smile. "I should have known better than to underestimate you."

There was a pause. Tony hummed, feeling like Killian expected some sort of answer. 

"Before I make you regret all of it, I want to make you understand just exactly what you've done." Killian's smile dropped off of his face. "This plan you've ruined? The organisation you've dismantled? I've been building it up for over a decade. A decade of my life, wasted because you couldn't help but to ruin it all over again."

Killian laughed, a harsh, icy sound that cut through the air of the research lab. Tony wondered what Killian had done to get all of Tony’s employees out. Maybe he'd activated the fire alarm or sent out a memo? Tony would take it, as long as it meant not having the risk of civilian casualties.

"Do you want to know just how satisfying it feels to finally have you here, in front of me? Defenseless?" Killian breathed in deeply as though savoring the moment. 

Tony suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatics. 

"Perhaps all of it has been worth the wait, after a–”

The door broke off of its hinges with a bang. Killian grunted and dropped to the ground, hit by a blaster Nebula had fired off before she'd so much as finished stepping into the room. 

"Lovely reunion." Tony threw a smile at the unresponsive pile on the ground that was Killian. "Let's not do it again. I'm sure you'll enjoy prison."

Tony stepped over him – Nebula had knocked him out cold – and halted Nebula's determined march through the room by meeting her halfway.

Mantis followed in her wake, looking around the building in curiosity and casting only a brief glance at the unconscious human at its center. She beamed once she saw Tony and waved. "Hello, Tony!"

Tony returned the wave. "Thanks, I guess." He turned to Nebula. "I could have taken care of him, you know?" 

"You were taking too long." Nebula shouldered the blaster with a disgusted glare at Killian's back. "You attract enemies like flies."

"Trust me," Tony muttered. "I noticed."

"Lucky for you that like flies, they are filthy, unnecessary and easy to crush." Nebula took a mildly concerning step towards Killian. "He will not bother you again."

"No, he won't." Tony blocked Nebula's path and tried to suppress a grunt as she bumped into him with more force than could possibly be necessary. "Because he's going to jail. And staying there. That's what you were getting at, right?"

Nebula pierced him with an unimpressed – but also unsurprised – glare. Nevertheless, she shifted her weight so she no longer looked en route to stomp in Killian's head like a ripe watermelon. "Your unwillingness to suffocate potential threats at their root never ceases to amaze me."

"Part of the charm, I guess," Tony offered. 

"I think it is very noble of you to spare his life," Mantis said, her eyes wide and her lips pulled into an eager smile. 

"See?" Tony flashed Mantis a grin and Nebula a victorious smirk. "Told you. Part of the charm."

He really needed to do something about the villain problem. How was it that for every instance of being an ass to someone when he was younger, there was now a villain jumping around, thirsting for revenge? 

Nebula didn't know what to think about Loki. She'd met him once or twice when he'd been working for Thanos, and even compared to herself at the time, Loki had seemed especially unstable – a megalomaniac moron who'd thought it a fair gamble to sell his soul in order to be granted power by Thanos.

The few conversations she’d had with him were more than enough to prove to her that he was no longer that person. In fact, he’d turned out quite pleasant company – especially compared to most of the other people Tony had accumulated at the tower. 

Still, there were one or two members of Tony’s team who hadn’t quite accepted his change of heart. As unlikely as it was that Loki would try something (the only thing he seemed to be doing was eat Tony's food, use his entertainment systems and vaguely antagonize whoever was in the room at the time), if he did, Nebula would take care of him without hesitation. 

She doubted anyone would object. 

"Don't you children have better things to do than liquify your brains with this..." Loki stared blankly at the series of animated pictures. His communication device hung in his hand forgotten, flashing images so bright they hurt Nebula's eyes. "Whatever this is."

"We're supposed to be doing science camp." Harley popped a sweet in his mouth without taking his eyes off of the screen. "I'm pretty sure Mr. Stark forgot."

Peter shifted in his seat restlessly. "Maybe he's just busy?" 

"Yeah," Ned agreed. "He's probably doing all sorts of important superhero stuff right now. Maybe he's saving the world right now!"

Harley scoffed. "He probably just got distracted." 

"Perhaps we could ask JARVIS to contact him?" Shuri suggested. "He was supposed to pick up the lesson from last time."

Nebula paused, her expression pulling into a frown. "The purpose of this... 'science camp' is to teach you useful skills for your later life, correct?"

Harley considered this. "I mean, yeah? I guess so."

Nebula took on a determined expression. If Tony wasn't there to prepare his children for the unforgiving nature of the world, she would just have to pick up his slack. 

Across from her, Loki gave her a blank look. "... What exactly is it you are planning to teach?"

"That depends entirely on their previous experience in hand-to-hand combat."

Four pairs of eyes came to rest on her. The animations kept dancing over the screen, forgotten. 

"I cannot believe I am saying this," Loki muttered, "but are your certain this is the best sort of subject matter for children?"

Nebula almost didn't dignify that question with a response. "Of course. At their age, I had already mastered hundreds of combat moves."

"That may be so. But these are Midgardian children." Loki pronounced the word 'Midgardian' as though it was likely to transfer some sort of horrible disease. "Their upbringing is quite different from ours. Not to mention yours."

"It is never too early to learn," Nebula insisted. She turned towards the children – all four of them were completely focused on her – and gave them a grim look. "We will begin with an assessment of your current skills. What prior experience with combat have you had?"

If Tony wasn't teaching his children the skills they would need to survive once they were older, Nebula was willing to lend him a hand. Tony would thank her for it, she was certain.

Down in his workshop and halfway through his elaborate test run of the Mark I Rescue armor – now completed – Tony couldn't shake the odd sensation that he had forgotten about something. 

He hummed, slowly increasing the output of the repulsors. "I haven't heard anything from Loki in a while," he said without taking his eyes off of the armor. "He's not plotting another attempt at world domination, is he?"

"No, sir." JARVIS' voice barely registered over the roaring sound of the repulsors. "As I have tried telling you several times already, he and Miss Nebula are currently in the common area with the children."

He hummed, satisfied with the adjustments he’d made. He couldn’t wait to show Pepper and have her do a first test run – only very few things beat exploring a new armor for the first time.

Tony jolted up from his seat as JARVIS’ words registered, repulsors forgotten. "Today was supposed to be science camp, wasn't it?" 

"Indeed, sir."

"JARVIS. Please tell me I didn't leave four impressionable children under the supervision of Loki and Nebula."

"I'm afraid you did, sir."

Tony barely had the mind to power down Rescue before he dashed out of the workshop and sprinted all the way to the common area.

"Okay!" Tony wheezed, bursting into the common area breathlessly. All the exercise in the world couldn’t prepare for a nice, panic-induced adrenaline boost. "I'm here now. I'm–”

"Listen carefully now, children," Nebula said. "You stab through the eye to reach the brain cavity. Remember to angle your blade in this exact way so that it perforates–”

As she talked, Nebula demonstrated her lesson on what appeared to be an illusion created by Loki. An incredibly detailed, realistic illusion.

Tony realized that he was going to die at the hands of a group of enraged parental figures, and considered making peace with his fate right then and there.

"Okay," he said, his voice at least an octave too high. "That's... nice, Nebula. Thank you for this. Kids, I'm sure this has been incredibly... in-informative, and..."

Tony broke off to take a proper look at the kids. Shuri seemed far too into it. Peter's expression was moderately curious. Harley looked mostly confused, although he was following the demonstration intently. Ned was recording everything.

"I'll be taking that," Tony muttered, plucking Ned's phone straight out of his hands. "Nebula, Loki. Enough demonstration for today. Just..." He suppressed a shudder. "Get rid of that thing. Please."

With an amused glance from Loki and a wave of his hand, the illusion – thankfully – disappeared.

The 'blood' that had splattered onto the floor stayed. 

"Your children have told me that they've come here to learn," Nebula said. "I've taken it upon myself to teach them the skills they will undoubtedly need once they are older."

"... Right. Okay. So, first of all they're not my kids. Just wanted to put that out there. Second of all, I appreciate the sentiment, but let’s hope they'll never need to... do whatever it is you just tried to show them."

"I've tried telling you," Loki said, crossing his arms. "Midgardian children do not have combat lessons at this age. We ought to have taught them defensive and evasive maneuvers instead."

"They will not need to evade their enemies if they are able to slay them before they pose a threat."

Loki heaved a sigh. "Very well. But once it is my turn, I will gauge their affinity to the magical arts. It would truly be a shame if not one of them were able to be taught."

"Awesome!" Ned didn't seem bothered in the slightest that Tony was still holding his phone – and as such, the evidence – hostage. "Did you hear that?! We're going to learn magic!"

"I know, right?" Peter's eyes were practically sparkling. "This is getting better and better!"

"Okay, kids. Before this goes any further," Tony almost laughed, thinking that it was far too late to do damage control, "I need you to promise me that your guardians will never hear about this." 

"What are you gonna give us in return?" Harley said, his expression disgustingly sweet and innocent as though he wasn't trying to shamelessly blackmail Tony. 

He’d always known Harley was the worst of the bunch.

Children could be terrible, relentless little demons. After about twenty minutes of ruthless bargaining Tony had finally managed to buy their silence with various pieces of one-of-a-kind Stark tech that had no right being in the hands of ten year old kids. 

The exception was Shuri, who hadn't been interested in any of the gadgets Tony'd offered. The little beast had gone straight for the big guns. 

"Let me take apart one of your suits and we have a deal," she said as though she wasn't talking about a multi-million dollar piece of cutting edge technology. 

"Just to clarify," Tony said because apparently that was the point of desperation he’d reached, "you're asking to take a look at it, not to actually own it."

"There is no better way to learn than by doing." Shuri raised her chin. "You’ve said that yourself. Do we have a deal?"

Peter, Harley and Ned had gone disconcertingly silent. All three of them were watching Tony like hawks, gauging his answer like the vultures they were. 

Tony had no idea why he even kept them around. 

"I'm sure Miss Okoye will want to know all about what we learned today," Harley added, his eyes radiating innocence while his lips were pulled into a smug grin. Tony should have just left him to rot in Tennessee. 

"She definitely will," Shuri said. "It's going to be so hard, trying to remember all those details we're supposed to keep to ourselves."

"So hard." Peter nodded along eagerly. 

"Terribly difficult," Ned added. 

"Right, okay. I got it." Tony suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "You are all horrible little creatures, you know that? No idea why anyone would willingly spend their time with you."

"Would you like me to clear some working space in the workshop?" JARVIS offered.

"Would it change anything if I said no?"

"If I may: the Mark VI is in dire need of maintenance, and would be wonderfully suited for a demonstration."

Tony let out a sigh as the kids cheered. 

Ned went so far as to punch the air in victory. "This is so amazing! Peter, we're going to see how Iron Man works!"

"I'm surrounded by traitors and nosy little brats," Tony muttered, feeling a smile tugging at his lips. These kids were the worst, and he wouldn't exchange them for the world. 

Several unfortunate results came out of Tony's screw-up of letting four impressionable children hang out with two of their resident ex-supervillains. (The sheer fact that there were more than two ought to be saying something about Tony's life.) 

One of them was a rather uncomfortable conversation with both T'Challa and Okoye to explain Shuri's declaration of "T'Challa, guess what! I'm going to make your suit fly!" after a couple days spent dissection one of his old Iron Man models. 

(Other than that particular incident, Tony couldn't complain about their sessions in the workshop. The kids were a bit young for the heavy lifting of the job, but they were smart and drank up the subject in a way that Tony doubted a regular ten-year-old could have done. 

They reminded Tony of himself at that age, and he made sure to keep all potentially dangerous tech far away whenever one of them was in the workshop. Experimenting was well and good in order to learn. Experimenting with explosive material should probably wait until they were at least a little bit older.)

The second unfortunate result was the children having irreversibly imprinted on both Nebula and Loki. They'd gotten attached to the two to such a degree, in fact, that Tony realized there was no longer any hope of discouraging it.

"Okay look," he said, suppressing the strong urge to heave a sigh, "if we're setting some ground rules – make sure you're not being traumatized for life – maybe we can talk about it." 

As much as Tony appreciated Nebula as a friend, that very first interaction with the kids had proven that she wasn't to be trusted with a human child. 

"You were the one who forgot about them," Loki felt the need to point out, quirking an eyebrow and making Harley grin. 

"And that was my mistake. I admit that this whole thing was partially my fault." 

"I do not see how humoring children will bring us closer to our goal of defeating Thanos," Nebula muttered. 

Tony raised an eyebrow. "I'm not forcing you to spend time with them. It's fine, you don't need to–”

"Back off," Nebula growled. "I haven't finished teaching them."

Tony raised his hands in mock-surrender. 

"I do have a few things to show them as well," Loki said, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head. 

"Awesome," Ned whispered, his expression matching Peter's in both satisfaction and excitement. 

Tony shook his head and didn't say anything. He wondered if anybody would buy it if he told them this had been his plan all along. Why yes, of course he'd started mentoring a bunch of kids to make sure the two former super villains got attached to them. What better way of making sure they wouldn't want to try and conquer the Earth again?

Perhaps he should try to introduce the kids to their former HYDRA members. Tony thought that at this point, his chances of all of them coming out as either friends or with strong parental urges were fairly high.

Chapter Text

"So you're telling me you had an invitation to Avengers tower–”

"I'd hardly call it an invitation. A summon, maybe."

"You had an invitation to Avengers tower," Scott repeated, just in case he hadn't put enough incredulity into his sentence the first time around, "and you didn't take it? Why?!"

Hope’s lips tightened the way they always did when Scott said something to make her smile, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "It may have to do with the fact that my father and Stark are mortal enemies."

"You've never cared about that," Scott said. "You're not your father. And it's the Avengers!"

"The public didn't exactly know much about them when Stark invited me." Hope paused. "They were still busy with the cleanup, then."

"Are you kidding? That makes it even worse!" Scott tried to lower his voice when a passing SI employee gave him an odd glance. He tried to give them a winning smile and picked up his rant once they'd entered an elevator and were on their way to the top of the building. "You could have gotten to meet them before they were famous!"

Hope shook her head mildly. Her lips were pinched, which told Scott that she was still fighting a smile. "Maybe I should have just sent you in my stead."

"No way. I would have probably barfed at Black Widow's feet or something." 

Nevermind that Hope and he hadn't even known each other back then. Scott hadn't had long to come to terms with his sort of, kind of superhero status. (Did this put him on the same level as the Avengers? Definitely not. It did, however, put them in a vaguely related orbit, which in itself was enough to make Scott dizzy with amazement.) He'd only now found out about Hope's continued stubbornness in refraining from visiting Avengers tower. 

She may not have inherited her father's dislike of Stark, but she definitely had Hank's stubbornness.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't vomit at my feet."

Scott startled violently and bumped into Hope. 

Black Widow stood in front of them as though she hadn't just sneaked up on them ninja-style after overhearing Scott giving her the likely worst possible first impression of himself. 

"I'm meeting my first Avenger," Scott whispered, knowing that his wide-eyed stare was probably starting to look creepy but unable to do anything about it. 

Black Widow's lips curled into a smile, and Scott relished the shiver it sent down his spine. 

Things only went uphill from there.

Scott messed up the salute he offered War Machine, but he must have made up for it with sheer enthusiasm because Colonel Rhodes gave him an amused smile and a salute in return. 

He almost tore Bruce Banner's arm out of its socket when he offered his hand for a handshake. 

By the time Scott stood opposite of actual Captain America – sans shield and uniform, but no less intimidatingly patriotic and awesome – he was close to bursting into tears. 

"This is the best day of my life," he hiss-whispered to Hope when he thought nobody else was listening in – although if his smug smile was anything to go by, Hawkeye must have been well-versed in the art of lip-reading.

He calmed down marginally after Stark's AI butler asked them to make themselves comfortable in the tower while they waited – apparently, punctuality was not something a billionaire superhero valued. 

Seeing as it stretched out the amount of time Scott would spent in the coolest place on Earth on the best day of his life, he wasn't going to complain. 

By the time twenty minutes had passed, Scott was busy dutifully oohing and ahhing over the pieces of tech a little dark-skinned girl showed him from something she called ‘science camp’. (Scott wasn't exactly sure why there was a little girl in the tower. Nobody questioned her presence, and her science talk sounded as though she was right at home, so who was he to question it?) 

If Hope had at one point been irritated at being made to wait, she'd definitely forgotten all about it while she'd struck up a conversation with someone who looked like an actual, real alien. 

"I am no fighter," the girl told Hope (Was her name actually Mantis? While definitely easy to remember, it would somewhat overdo the whole insect theme her appearance had going on.), her eyes rapidly flipping between meeting Hope's gaze and dropping down into her lap. "But I am training my powers so I can be of use to my friends."

Hope hummed. "I don’t have powers myself, but my parents… they built this suit. It started out as scientific equipment, but lately we’ve been using it to help people.”

Mantis' eyes brightened up. "Like Tony and his friends do!"

"Exactly." Hope's lips curved in a smile. "Like the Avengers do."

"Are you still listening?"

Scott whirled around his head with extremely guilty, oops-you-caught-me widened eyes. "But of course, Your Grace."

Shuri snorted. "That's not how you say it, either."

"It isn't? No way!" Scott huffed out an incredulous breath. "I'll get it right next time for sure."

He still had plenty left on his list: Dame, Most Honorable and Excellency among them. Scott wondered if Shuri'd appreciate being called Khaleesi. Did they have American television in Africa? Scott certainly didn't know any African TV shows.

"Mr. Stark has just entered the tower," JARVIS said, bringing both of their conversations to an impromptu halt. 

Sure enough, Tony Stark entered the room as though none of the people inside – aliens and super soldiers and genius children – were anything to get excited about. 

"J," he said, taking large steps into the common area, "we've got incoming."

There was a thud from outside the building that Scott could have sworn shook the floor. 

Hope raised an eyebrow at Stark. "Bad time?"

Stark had the courtesy to wince. "It's always busy here," he replied, sending Hope what could count for an apologetic look. "Thanks for coming. Haven't forgotten about you. I swear I'll come around to you, as soon as... well, after this."

'This', as in 'the arrival of yet another famously amazing member of his team'. Thor looked even bigger than he did on TV – Scott was pretty sure his bicep was wider than Scott's head. 

"How'd you know he was coming?" Scott asked, impressed with himself that he managed to get out the words without stumbling over them. Thor must have had some sort of magnetic attraction, because he couldn't seem to take his eyes away from him. 

He was also sure he was one more celebrity/superhero away from fainting on the spot, and desperately hoped that they weren’t hiding yet another icon somewhere in the tower until he’d had a little time to digest the events of the day. 

"I flew here," Stark replied as though he wasn’t one of the only humans able to utter a sentence like that. "I could see the storm clouds miles away."

"Take your time and don't worry about us." Hope leaned back on the couch, looking far too casual considering their circumstances. "This is the most excited I've ever seen Scott."

Scott didn't have the time to feel affronted about being talked about like an excitable toddler. Or maybe a puppy. Thor stormed into the room with long, booming strides and pulled all the attention towards himself.

"Tony," he said as soon as his eyes landed on his teammate, steering towards him while tugging along a considerably less intimidating looking (human?) woman. 

She allowed herself to gently-insistently be dragged along, wearing a half-exasperated, half-amused expression. 

"You need to fix her," Thor said, all but thrusting his lady companion in Stark's face.

"Um," Stark said, "right. Hello to you too, buddy." He took in the newcomer with a brief glance. "Hey, I guess. Welcome to the tower. And you are..."

"Jane," the woman said, eyes twitching around the room and looking more flustered than intimidated by the people she'd been dropped in the middle of. "Jane Fo–”

"Foster. Right, of course."

"We need your help," Thor insisted, undeterred by the pleasantries being exchanged around his frantic request. "You must know what we need to do. The Aether has taken hold of Jane's body and refuses to let go. Whatever we've done to help her in the future, we must do so again."

Scott nodded along feverishly. He had no idea what Thor was talking about, but the way he said it made it sound like they should absolutely drop whatever they were doing and help out his friend. 

"Wait. Did he say 'in the future'?"

"The Aether as in the reality stone?" Stark's eyes widened in alarm. 

"Yes," Thor said. "Tell me, what did we do to free her the first time? We shall do so again and destroy the stone before it can cause more harm than it already has."

"'The first time'?" Scott said.

"Thor..." Stark scanned Foster with a long, hesitant gaze. "I don't know how to tell you this, but... I didn't do anything to help the first time."

Thor blinked. "What?"

"You told us some of it afterward. Something about Dark Elves? You were in London at the time, no idea why. But you must have taken care of it yourself."

"Can we rewind to the part where you were talking about something that happened in the future?" Either Scott had become part of one of the coolest conversations he'd ever have in his life, or he needed to accept the fact that his idols had collectively lost their minds.

"Okay. Okay, just," Stark pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm usually great at multitasking, but this is just too much. J, give Arrietty and Thumbelina the SparkNote version. Thor, Doctor Foster, with me."

Thor did as he was told, a mild frown on his face. "You truly do not know anything about the Aether?" 

"Afraid not." Stark turned around just short of reaching the elevators. "But what's the point of keeping this many brilliant people around if one of them doesn’t manage to figure something out?"

Tony wondered how it was that with so many geniuses in one room, they couldn't seem to be getting anywhere. He was beginning to entertain the hypothesis that starting from a certain number, everybody's brilliancy simply started to cancel each other out. 

Bruce, never one for large crowds of people, pushed down his discomfort and made the first start. "What do you already know about the reality stone?"

"Not much," Foster admitted. "Pretty much only what Thor told me. I know that it acts as a sort of defense mechanism: it manifests outside of my body when it feels threatened."

"Sounds good," Rocket said. "Let's poke it."

"Erm." Bruce blinked. "Maybe that's not... the best course of–”

"Our goal is to crush this thing, right?" Rocket shrugged. "Can't crush it as long as we don't know anything about it."

Jane nodded along, proving a worrisome lack of self-preservation. "He has a point."

"Yeah, about that," Tony said, "Am I the only one who remembers the tower almost blowing up when we poked the last one?"

T'Challa pressed his lips together. "No. No, you are n–”

"We're not getting anywhere if you insist on touching her with safety gloves," Rocket interrupted.

"The saying goes 'kid gloves'"." Tony frowned at Rocket. "Safety gloves on the other hand sound like a marvelous idea. In fact, I'd argue they're essential if we're–”

Nebula powered up her power-stone-infused blaster. "It worked with the other stone. Let's do it again."

Bruce had uttered a soft, "I don't think this is a good idea," in the time it took Tony to dive in between Nebula and Jane. 

"It's attached to a human," he said, glaring at Nebula. "Hands off."

Jane had the nerve to look disappointed. "We have the chance to watch two primordial forces interacting..."

"One of which is inside you," Tony deadpanned. "Seriously, does anybody in this room have any level of self-preservation?"

"Some risks are worth taking in the name of science," Shuri said gravely. Who even had let her and Peter into the labs? "You should come with us once we return to Wakanda. Our research labs are huge and incredibly advanced."

"We are not taking Miss Foster with us." T'Challa showed all the weariness of an exasperated parent. "We are not taking anybody with us."

"Thanks anyway," Jane said, giving Shuri a wide smile, "for the offer."

"Fine." Shuri let out a huff. She turned to Peter and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You should consider yourself very lucky."

Peter blinked. "Um. Okay?" 

"No outsider has been in Wakanda for decades. It would seem that you will remain the only one."

There was silence as Shuri's statement sunk in. 

"Why would you think–” T'Challa closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. "Shuri. When I said we would not bring anybody back with us, I was including Peter."

"Right." Shuri nodded, giving what she seemed to believe was a sneaky wink. "I get it."

"No." T'Challa met her gaze firmly. "We will not kidnap a child and bring him to Wakanda with us. 

"Fine." Shuri threw her hands in the air. "We will have to come to America more often, then."

"We will talk about this some other time," T'Challa muttered, rubbing his eyes and letting out another sigh. 

"Okay," Tony said, having followed the conversation with morbid curiosity. "Now that that's, uh, settled. How about we get back to–”

"Wait," Peter hiss-whispered to Shuri, unintentionally cutting Tony off. "Is this why you told me to prepare for a trip?"

"Of course," Shuri said. "What else would I have meant?"

"I don't know! I thought you were gonna take me to Disneyland or something!"

Tony tried to pick up where he'd left off while Shuri sent Peter an incredulous gaze. "Guys, focus. We've settled that we're not going to risk–”

"Wait, you made me pack for my own kidnapping?!"

Tony sighed, sinking down at one of his workbenches. It was going to be a long day.

They figured out a solution eventually. 

The reality stone was destroyed, Doctor Foster came out of it unharmed and Tony's labs took only a marginal amount of damage compared to the last time they'd decide to blow up one of the stones. 

And if a handful of parents were called later that day with a detailed offer of a potential field trip sponsored by actual African royalty, then that was only a lucky byproduct of having gotten one step closer to preventing the end of the world – this time, hopefully, for good.

Chapter Text

Every once in a while, somebody at the tower would remember that they were on somewhat of a schedule. Every single time, Tony was forced to explain to them that there was one member of their team – a rather essential one – still missing. 

"What are we waiting for?" Nebula scowled at nothing in particular, idly fiddling with the machinery on her arm. 

Tony wished she'd quit doing it. He doubted the power stone appreciated being poked at so carelessly. 

"We've never been this close," Nebula added. "What's taking so long?"

"Just give him a few more weeks," Tony said. "I'm sure he'll come around soon."

"Why do we need to wait for him in the first place?"

"Might have to do with the fact that once he figures out his mojo, he's one of our strongest fighters." Tony paused. "Don't ever tell him I said this."

"We could do it without him," Nebula insisted, taking care of a loose wire in her limb with precision and a delicate touch most people didn’t think her capable of. "One person will not make the difference between loss and victory."

"Maybe not," Tony admitted. "But with him comes the time stone. Do you really want to go up against Thanos while there's the tiniest chance of him getting hold of it himself?"

The implication of Thanos wielding the time stone painted enough of a horrid picture without Tony spelling it out.  

Strange had stopped answering Tony's calls a couple weeks after he'd contacted him that very first time at the hospital. Tony kept calling him regardless, reasoning that as soon as he got his powers he'd have no choice but to realize that Tony had told him the truth. Surely he'd be more open to a conversation afterwards. 

Except when he tried calling the hospital, they told him Strange was no longer a resident surgeon. 

"They won't give me any details." Tony scowled, resisting the urge to furiously redial the number and bring the receptionist at the other end to tears. 

Tony didn't know any of Strange’s acquaintances prior to becoming Sorcerer Supreme. That sorcerer pal of his – Wong, was it? – wouldn't be of any help while Strange was still a civilian. 

What was that fellow doctor of his called again? Christa? Kirsten? It wouldn't matter either way, seeing as the hospital stubbornly refused to give out contact information to random strangers on the phone. Ridiculous. 

“Sir,” JARVIS said, interrupting his train of thought. “I believe I’ve found something.”

Tony took his phone from his ear and stared at the headline JARVIS had pulled up. The headline stared back. 

"You didn't mention anything about a car crash," Bruce muttered, reading the article over Tony's shoulder. He’d asked JARVIS to keep tabs on Strange’s name in the news – hoping to catch him in the middle of some fantastical, magical mishap. Not… this.

"I didn't know about it." 

If he had... He would have done what? Warn Strange (who hadn't believed a word he'd been saying) to never drive a car again? Take a gamble and hope that Strange's powers were unrelated to the accident?

Even if he’d had a chance of preventing it, it was too late. Tony had tried tracking Stephen down, and he’d failed. He had no choice but to wait and hope that whatever had happened in the wake of the car crash, it had somehow led to Strange’s rather peculiar career change. 

Tony tried checking in with Strange occasionally and kept himself occupied with their preparations. He trained with the team, developed fighting simulations, updated equipment, bonded with allies, and, and, and... 

He knew that their time to prepare was ticking away. Thanos was bound to find out about the destroyed infinity stones sooner rather than later – if he hadn't already. 

The Thanos that Tony and Nebula knew had been assured of his role as the universe’s “savior” and assured in his victory. What would a younger Thanos do upon realizing that his plan was ruined? What would he do, knowing that a bunch of meddling mortals had torn it to shreds without him lifting so much as a finger to prevent it?

Time passed, Tony failed to contact Strange, and Nebula grew increasingly restless. She paced around like a caged animal and needed to be talked out of leaving the tower when she seemed too trigger-happy to risk any run-ins with civilians.  

She obliterated combat simulations so efficiently and violently that only the bravest (or most reckless) of the team dared to step into the training rooms with her. 

After the third time Tony helped patch up her body after a too vicious, too recklessly fought training simulation, Tony had had enough.

"You realize this isn't doing us any good, right?" He swallowed down an apology and yanked out a warped piece of metal, knowing that Nebula wasn't made of glass and disliked being treated like it. 

She didn't so much as bat an eyelash. 

"Messing up your body every other day is kind of counterproductive."

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of the repairs myself," Nebula muttered, scowling down at a frayed wire like it had personally failed her.  

"I know you are." Tony didn't look up from the mess of circuits and melted machinery Nebula had turned her limb into. "But I’m here. Which means you don't need to be."

Nebula allowed Tony to work in silence. The damage wasn't as bad as it looked – luckily, seeing as Tony didn't feel like dissecting an infinity stone infused weapon that also happened to be one of his closest friends' limb. 

"I cannot force myself to stay idle for much longer," Nebula said. 

"If this is you staying idle, I don't really want to know the alternative."

"Sir," JARVIS interrupted before Nebula could do more than send him a scowl. "The reception has received a call from Doctor Stephen Strange. He’s asking to be patched through to you."

Nebula and Tony shared a startled glance. 

Tony picked up the metal plate encasing Nebula's arm and placed it over the no-longer-melted, neatly arranged wires and circuitry. 

"Hear that?" he said, letting Nebula take over fastening the plate. "Looks like we're done waiting."

For several months of Stephen's blessedly normal, civilian life, it had been an unquestionable fact that Tony Stark was a hopelessly raving madman. 

As sobering as the realization had been, Stephen had been more than prepared to accept it and move on with his life. Who cared that every once in a while, a resident superhero celebrity would try to contact him to – presumably – start another attempt at convincing Stephen of his outrageous sounding stories of magic and space stones and the end of the world. 

Sure, there was the point where spaceships had landed on Earth and proved that aliens did, in fact, exist. (Stephen tried his very best to avoid news reports and articles about their alien visitors for the sole reason that Stark seemed to be annoyingly involved in all of it.) 

But just because Stark had gotten lucky, that didn't mean he knew what he was talking about when he tried convincing Stephen that he was going to abandon his medical career in order to become some sort of magician. 

The accident happened. 

So did Kamar-Taj. 

Stark's claims faded into the background as Stephen dealt with his injuries and studied under the Ancient One – in a way, it felt like Stephen had started living a completely different life.

It took Stephen several days after defeating Dormammu and Kaecilius to realize that not only had Stark been right about him, but also that there was a good chance that he was right about everything else as well.

Even though Stephen had accepted a living cloak and other dimensions as a part of his new worldview, he had the dull notion that it still wouldn't be enough to prepare him for what followed.

He was also determined that no matter what else fate was planning to toss his way, Stephen was never going to admit to Stark's face that Stephen had been wrong about him. 

Stephen was proven right in that he couldn't have possibly prepared for the chaotic whirlwind that was Tony Stark. He was sure that the other occupants of the tower were just as bad – he doubted anyone could live with Stark for an extended period of time and come out of it sane – but all of them faded into the background once Stark took the stage and began swamping him with the insanity he'd tried to introduce him to all those months ago at the hospital. 

"Before we get this started," Stark said, pacing around the room restlessly and typing wildly on his phone, "welcome to the tower and thanks for showing up. Better late than never I suppose – although to be fair, we've been waiting for ages."

Stephen decided to skip over the majority of what he'd said. "What are you doing?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Stark wiggled his phone. "Ignore it. I'm just letting everybody know that you’re here."

"... Right." Stephen had no idea who ‘everybody’ was. He didn't know if he wanted to find out.

"Anyway, now that you're part of the team–”

"Excuse me, but I'm what?"

"– we can finally get our act together and start planning our move against Thanos–”

"Against who?"

"– just as soon as we're done destroying that thing in your amulet."

"You want to do what?" Stephen gaped at Stark. "I'm... I'm the guardian of the time stone? I can't just... I mean. Destroying it is the exact opposite of guarding it?" 

Stephen vaguely realized that he was phrasing as questions what ought to be hard facts. 

"True," Stark said, "but consider this: if you destroy the stone, nobody can ever get their hands on it."

"Hardly anybody knows about its existence," Stephen argued. "Why would anybody get their hands on it to begin with?"

Thus began an impromptu history lesson that left Stephen wondering whether his powers were worth having gotten caught up in such a – seemingly intergalactic, world-threatening – mess.

“– called Thanos. We already made sure to destroy the source of his power – other than that lovely amulet of yours–”

"– the way, can you use that mirror thingy yet? It's no use against the big bad I'm afraid, but it'll come in handy against the grunts."

"... You know, we ought to have printed out pamphlets by now. It's getting ridiculous."

On and on it went – Stark kept dropping out of context snippets of information and needed to go further back to explain them. The blue alien woman interrupted whenever she was of the opinion that he'd skipped over something vital – which, seeing as she seemed to have wreaked havoc over half the galaxy on her own before joining Stark on Earth, was often. 

"Wait," Stephen interrupted at one point, trying desperately not to get lost or – even worse – come across as ignorant. 

"So... So the stones. The infinity stones. Of which I am currently in possession of one. You've destroyed them all?"

"All but two," Stark corrected. With a pointed glance at the very-much-intact amulet he added, "Clearly."

Stephen ignored the jab. "Two? Where's the other one?"

The alien woman – Nebula. Stephen didn't want to imagine having to learn all of these names without his frankly brilliant memory – did something to her arm that made it glow in a near blinding purple. 

Nobody answered but they looked at him expectantly. Stephen realized that this was, in fact, his answer. "It's... inside of you?" 

"Pretty much," Stark said. 

"One of the primordial forces of the universe," Stephen said, feeling a headache creep up, "and you carry it inside of you."

"We needed some way of destroying the stones."

Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Obviously. Please continue."

"I actually think we covered the essentials," Stark said. "We'd be here for a week if we tried to–”

Stark was interrupted by a sharp, shrill sounding melody that sounded vaguely like cat noises. Stephen couldn't muster the energy to feel surprised about it any more. 

Nebula on the other hand stared at Stark with unconcealed disgust. "What is that?"

Stark fumbled with his phone, and the melody lowered considerably in volume. "It's an internet thing." He grinned. "Carol would hate it."

He hit another button and the melody – blessedly – stopped. "Carol? What's up?"

Stark's expression went slack almost comically fast. Most concerning was the utter lack of a snarky comeback. 

Once the person on the other end – Carol – finished, he took the phone from his ear and tapped a button. 

"You're on speaker," he said, and, raising his voice, "Guys! Carol's got news."

The other occupants of the room – Avengers and aliens alike, thus far uninvolved in the conversation – stilled and gave them their attention. 

A woman's voice spoke through the speakers, sounding as though she was standing right in their midst. 

"Thanos has mobilized his forces," she said, her voice tight. She paused, then added, "He's coming for you."

Grim silence followed in her wake. 

"It's time," Stark said. The time for explanations and preparation was over. 

No matter what Stephen had slid into unknowingly – apparently an intergalactic war of which’s outcome would decide the fate of the universe – he didn't have the option to turn his back. 

Stephen would simply do what he'd always done: improvise and make up everything as he went, pretending like he knew exactly what he was doing. 

Nobody could accuse Stephen Strange of shying away from a challenge.

Chapter Text

It had been a long time since Thanos had experienced setbacks in such rapid succession. 

His mission did not always yield success. There were always people too stubborn, species too courageous, planets too blind to recognize the true order of the universe. Were Thanos any less patient of a man, he would have abandoned his quest long ago, fallen into despair at the impossibility of his task. 

The first major setback, the Chitauri's failure of Terra's invasion, was unfortunate but insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Sending the Jotun whelp had been a gamble from the start – one that, even in the wake of its failure, placed two of the infinity stones on the same infant planet, ripe for Thanos to take at a later date. 

The second had not registered as a setback as much as a minor delay. Xandar had not housed an infinity stone at all – false information was a troublesome obstacle, but one Thanos wasn’t able to prevent.

His search for the soul stone was as fruitless as it had been in years. 

Lastly, his daughter's betrayal. It might have meant little on the grand scale of his quest, but it was the setback that hit Thanos the hardest. He'd begun gathering his ‘children’ a long time ago, but Gamora was the first for whom the word had rung true. 

Her treason was painful – though perhaps not as surprising as Thanos would like to pretend. He'd raised her into a strong, loyal woman. It was his mistake to have failed to recognize that her loyalty was not aimed at him. 

Thanos was not a flawless man, and this, above all else, was a mistake he had nobody to blame for but himself.