You have nine new voicemail messages.
...
"Hey, it's Nat. How's everything? I know house arrest is a pain in the ass, but I hope it's going well. Um. How are Laura and the kids? We're in... you know. Where we've always been. They'll let your call through if you want to call me back. Can't wait to hear from you. Sam says hi. G'bye."
...
"It's Nat again. Have you been watching the news? Call me back."
...
"Yo, it's Sam. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, but we got a giant fucking metal donut in the sky over New York, and we're in fucking... Scotland. Yeah. Some backup would be nice."
...
"Clint, I know you're on house arrest, technically, but I'd really appreciate it if you came out... oh... what?... right - uh. Yeah. I know you have a really bad track record with following me into battle on random occasions, but if you could give Stark some backup in New York that'd be -"
...
"Hey, uhhh, it's Scott? Have you taken a look at the news? I know we're technically not allowed out, but do you think this is worth looking into? Uh - bye. Talk later?"
...
"It's Nat. I know it's family movie night and all, but - dammit. We're back in Wakanda. You probably don't want to hear this, but Stark was right the whole time. Thanos has been gearing up to attack Earth for six years - the Chitauri were just the beginning. I - shit. Call you back."
...
"Sam here. Fucking shit on a popsicle stick, Clint, we're getting fucked hard out here. If you're getting this, I need you to - shit, gotta go. Get to Wakanda when you get the chance!"
...
"Clint, please."
...
"Clint, it's Natasha, I am begging you to please pick up the fucking phone. Thanos just... he killed half the people in the universe with one snap of his fingers. He won. I need to know...
"I need to know if you're still alive. Please. Please, please, если ты мертв, я никогда не прощу себя -"
He hung up. Natasha's voice - muffled; she must have been hiding somewhere - cut off.
Clint sat there and stared at the phone in his hand for an eternity. Dust clung to its edges, and he gently buffed the phone on his pants. He had never heard Nat sound so panicked, so afraid, and the other voicemails had hardly been better. Steve. Sam. Hell, even Wanda.
He took a breath. Held it.
Part of him was mad that he couldn't make it to Wakanda, that he couldn't be with his team while whatever the fuck that was went down. House arrest was good for him, though - he got to spend time with his family. That strained hamstring from Berlin had finally healed. He'd learned to knit. He and his family had finally finished watching all the Pixar films they could find - they'd just watched Inside Out last night, in fact.
He let the breath out. But it was definitely time to come out of retirement.
Clint stood up from the couch, ignoring the sudden urge he felt to sneeze, and picked up his bow from the coffee table. One twist, and it collapsed. He clipped it to his belt, fiddled with his phone, and made a call as he strode out.
"Nat?"
"Clint! Thank God - I thought you'd... Is everything okay?"
The dust of his family's bodies swirled above the living room furniture.
"...No."
He'd fallen asleep during the movie.
"But it will be."
They were there when he closed his eyes.
"Clint -"
They were dust when he opened them.
"I'm coming to Wakanda, Nat."
He clicked his fingers, and Lucky trotted out from under the stairs, tail tucked between his legs.
"Clint, I can hear it in your voice. What happened?"
The porch door swung closed; he gently locked it, hand lingering on the doorknob. "I... I lost them."
There was silence on the other end. Not even a breath. "All of them?" Natasha said softly.
"Yeah."
All of them.
"I'm sorry."
I am too. Clint's grip tightened on the phone; at his feet, Lucky whimpered, his nose brushing Clint's knee. "Just get me to Wakanda as soon as possible," he said curtly.
"Already done. There's a jet flying to your location right now, should be there soon."
It wouldn't be long, then. Clint sat down on the porch steps, and Lucky sat behind him, his big wet nose prodding into Clint's armpit. He took another deep breath and let it out, squeezing his eyes until constellations roiled under his eyelids.
He felt like a guardsman keeping watch at a tomb.
Clint choked and let his head drop into his hands.
"Clint?"
He hung up.
Insects buzzed, the breeze blew, and Clint let himself break down and cry.
His footsteps echoed.
Wong paced slowly around the empty pedestal; the curved holder for the Eye of Agamotto sat empty, and the doors to each of the sanctums stayed firmly shut. It was empty. Desolate.
Perhaps it was folly to think it, but Wong entertained the thought anyway. Maybe things could have been different if he had found a way to go with Strange. Then again, maybe not. What could he have done against that moldy grape of a Titan? Maybe he could have rallied the remaining sorcerers at Kamar-taj, taken them to Wakanda. Could that have helped?
Clouds of dust rose around his feet. Wong cringed and came to a halt. It was just their luck that the Sanctum was hit the hardest by the finger snap. He was the only one here left alive.
Wong tried not to let bitterness overtake him. He could almost sense the exact moment when Stephen handed over the Time Stone. Broke his vows. Bastard. He scowled at the empty pedestal once more. He better have had a damn good reason for giving up the Stone, because thanks to him...
Dust swirled.
"Damn it," Wong muttered. There was a draft somewhere. While they had WiFi here - they weren't uncivilized - the insulation of the Sanctum was not the best. Nights were cold. The pad of his thumb traced the underside of his sling ring; he'd patch the hole as best he could, and maybe retreat to the library. The people of Kathmandu might need his assistance; they'd turned to the Sanctum in times past, and after a tragedy like today, they would need someone to explain what had happened.
Wong sighed. He was a librarian, damn it. Not a therapist. That was Stephen's job. Or... something. He could never quite remember what kind of doctorates the Sorcerer Supreme had. Sometimes he guessed at random; Stephen thought he was pulling his leg the time Wong called him a paleontologist, but he seriously couldn't recall -
He froze.
Something was glowing.
Wong backtracked and turned a corner into the Ancient One's former private rooms. "Oh, no," he breathed. "Ohhhh, hell no."
The panel above the Ancient One's bed had slid open - and the inside was glowing bright enough to make Wong squint.
"Shit."
Wong stumbled forward, brushing aside the protective wards like cobwebs, and gingerly approached the secret compartment. When he'd first become Librarian, the Ancient One told him of this ring - an artifact of great and terrible power, so awful that she trusted none but herself to keep watch over it. Wong was, of course, confused as to why she was telling him about the ring if she was the only one keeping an eye on it. And he said so.
She just looked at him. "Wong," she had said, "being the librarian of Kamar-Taj means you must be privy to all sorts of knowledge. Your predecessor knew of this; and now so shall you."
"With all due respect, ma'am," Wong had said skeptically, "no man is meant to know everything."
The Ancient One's knowing smile had become sad, and she said, "I am no man."
It seemed like an inside joke, because that made no fucking sense to Wong - but he went along with it anyway. The Ancient One told him very little about the ring itself; she only said enough for him to know that he was just a contingency plan. Should anything happen to her, he was to tell the next Sorcerer Supreme about the ring, and they too would protect it.
Well. Stephen was stuck in the ass end of nowhere, as far as Wong was concerned. And everyone else was dead.
It fell to him. Great.
Wong gave the ring a suspicious once-over. He really hoped that Stephen would get his sorry ass back here soon. First so Wong could chew him out about the Time Stone. Then so he could give him this ridiculous ring. It should never have come to him in the first place -
There was a sharp tug behind his navel, and Wong yelped as the world dissolved.
The Ancient One could've at least told him that this would happen.
Sometimes he hated his job.
The water suddenly began to churn around his ankles. Before him, the green-skinned child lifted her chin and turned away, gliding across the surface -
You cannot hide.
The words slammed deep into his chest, into his heart, and he slowly turned, as the orange sky rippled with smoke, with shadow.
I see you…
A great lidless eye, wreathed in flame, rose high above the water. A nameless fear curdled in his stomach. It looked straight into him, and -
Thanos!
And the fire consumed him.