"We ever gonna find them, Tony?" Rhodey's voice seemed distant in the Mark L's helmet receiver as Tony Stark, known to the world for a decade as Iron Man, patrolled the New York skyline alongside the obsidian colored, heavier built War Machine. Tony hasn't worn an Iron Man suit in the city for a year, and before that, five years. The sensations and familiar flight vectors taken remind him of better days. Tony can almost see the portal in the sky again, feel the mortal terror strike him even in his impenetrable suit as the hordes of slavering Chitauri poured from the tear the Tesseract had wrent in the air.

However terribly that day had wounded him, plagued him for years afterward, in the back of his mind he wishes for it. At least then, he'd known who he could trust and wasn't relegated to being a U.N. lapdog. He'd had Rhodey by his side for 20 years, yet when the Chitauri attacked he'd had five others he could call friends. Now, through machinations with artificial intelligence or assumption, he'd driven them all away. Stopping Ultron had driven Bruce into space, sent Thor on his quest across the cosmos for- what had he called them, Infinity Stones? Pursuing his HYDRA-controlled friend had pushed Steve to nearly kill him; the chase made Tony throw Clint in jail and alienate Natasha.

Tony doesn't doubt he'd carry another nuke into space to get the Avengers back.

"Tony." Rhodey says again, stronger this time. "You're leaning too much. Almost clipped the scaffolding back there. You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Tony trails off, his mind truthfully not contained within the Mark L helmet. It was everywhere. "Just got my noggin up in the clouds. You asked me somethin'."

"Do you think we'll ever find them? Steve and Sam and Nat and all them."

Stark scoffs, shaking his head ruefully in his suit. "Get frozen in ice for seventy years; guess that makes you good at hide n' seek. Part of me hopes the gang'll slip up one of these days. 'Till then, guess these routine checks are just a formality for the Secretary of State."

That earned a bitter chuckle from Rhodey. "Sure feels like it. If they don't wanna be seen, why the hell would they be hiding in New York? In the shadow of Stark Tower? Really? Does Ross think Steve's an-" Silence over the receiver.

"Tony, I've got movement. Two male, a female, in that squatter's paradise over there, the orange bricks. Some energy signature, not radiation, not electromagnetic."

"Wanda?"

"Could be," Rhodey replied. "Worth a shot?"

"Let's do it," Tony responds. The boots of their armored suits propel them over several city blocks in a matter of moments, and make short work of the roof of the building, rotten and molded. The interior is nearly completely devoured in darkness, except for a circle of light from the hole Tony and Rhodey had put in the ceiling. Floodlights from the eye sockets of both Iron suits chase away the darkness, and find what one might expect from an abandoned and comdemned building. Rotted food and moth-eaten clothes scatter the floor in random intervals, as well as a few chewed slabs of furniture. The armor's oxygen filters fail to keep the overpowering smell of herb from reaching Tony's nostrils, along with the burnished smell of smoke. "Man, who's got the sage?" Rhodey gagged. "Where is it?"

"Dunno, but it means that signature wasn't a fluke. They're still here. You seein' anything?" Tony asked. He turned his head a full 360 degrees, the lights emanating from the armor coating the entire room in quick succession. It isn't long before "There!" from Rhodey makes the worn door in the wall opposite them apparent. Smoke billows out ever so lightly from the bottom lip, and another deep breath fills Tony's nose with the overpowering aroma of sage.

He doesn't get three steps before the door bursts off its hinges and Tony feels a fist like a wrecking ball clock him in his armored jaw.

He stumbles, feeling a throb in his head from where the blow had thrown his brain against the inside of his skull. The nanoparts that had been blown away by the mystery bruiser were quickly replaced by spares from the arc reactor on his chest. Definitely not Wanda. The sound of charging repulsors and a cocking turret reach Tony's ears, as did "Stand down. Lower your . . . arms. You are in violation of the Sokovia Accords, and by the power invested in me as a U.N. deputy I am placing all of your under arrest."

"That's not Steve, is it?" Tony groaned as he regained his footing, lazily training his repulsors on two of the figures in from of them.

"I don't know who 'Steve' is, but I swear we aren't hiding Captain America in here," the big one said. He was a tall, muscular man, with a deep chocolate hue to his skin and finely shaved facial hair. He looks to Tony like Sam Wilson and Thor were put in a blender. Contrast to his skin, he had on a shirt so yellow it almost blinded Tony when the light from his suit hit it, and his head was smooth and bald. Beside him was a shorter, younger man, with curly hair and beard. He was white, except for a bizzare brand on his chest, like a snaking dragon of deepest black. His fists glowed as if heated form the inside by some golden fire. All of the veins and bones within were visible. The last of the trio, fists raised, was a tiny woman with odd features, dark hair and full lips. Tony supposed she was beautiful in a peculiar way. She wore a dark, worn jacket and scarf.

"You," the big one says again. "You're Tony Stark, right? You were here in 2012. You've been training. . . what's his name, the spider-kid, from Leipzig. He was all over the news. The rest of that whole cluster was too. I'm telling you, Stark. We ain't with Cap. Only thing a fight's going to do is let them know we're here."

"Who are you," Tony shoots back. "And who's 'them'?"

"I'm Luke. Luke Cage. That's Danny," He says as he points to the smaller man. "And the lady over there is Jessica."

"I'm the Iron Fist first, Danny Rand second," Danny says. Tony rolls his eyes in his suit, scoffing quietly. The woman, Jessica, must have had super hearing abilities. "What?" She says, incredulous. "At least we didn't steal ours from Black Sabbath songs." She gnashes her teeth, "And get that damn light outta my face."

"Rand?" Now it's Tony's turn to be flabbergasted. He turns down the lights beaming from the Iron Man's eyes. "Aren't you supposed to have died in a plane crash in India? I sent my best to Harold Meachum . . . someone took him out not too long ago."

Danny's face hasn't changed throughout the whole encounter. The young man is intense, brows furrowed and eyes blazing. "I almost did it myself."

"So you're a killer?" Rhodey replied. " And here I thought you were Danny. You seem more like Cobra Kai to me, dude.

Fists illuminated from their insides by yellow lights brighten, turning into miniature suns and almost lighting the whole room up. Repulsors whine to life, ready for a fight. Luke Cage sighs, and cracks his powerful knuckles.

The roof crashes down in a storm of dust and rubble, knocking the two Iron Men and the vigilantes away from one another. A rumble like thunder cascades from outside, and howling alien screeches accompany it.

A dozen shadows fall over the group, and one feminine voice, full of hate and wrath, calls out-

"FOR THANOS!"

He's been dreaming for quite a long time, waiting for something. What, though, he can't say. Maybe for his wounds to heal and for the final loss of his love to truly sink in. He's put in an awful lot of thought to all of that while he's been here. He knows he should be out in the streets, fighting and clawing, dragging his city out of the darkness and up into the bright light of justness. But he's tried to do that for so long, ages even. Where has it got him? Nearly dead who knows how many times, wounded in body and heart. Maybe he should just stay here forever.

Something powerful holds his consciousness in its hands and beats that notion out of him. It ancient, angry, restless and ruthless. He hears it in his ears, sees it in his eyes, tastes it in his mouth. It wants him, wants him gone from the world. It has waited a thousand million years to strike and already it draws so close. More than he, it would destroy. Obliteration tracing every star is what it brings, and it terrifies him.

Matt Murdock opens his eyes.