A/N: Argh. In all my lead up and introducing all the new characters, I completely forgot about Bruce, who has (of course) been in the story before and is just so unassuming that I didn't remember him. I suppose I should be surprised that I didn't forget more of them. Since it is way too late to go back and magically put him somewhere and involve him with all the conversations, I'm going to say (to myself and somewhere in the story, eventually) that he was away at a conference or something and try to find a place for him to join in the fray as the Hulk if I can. I'm sorry about that.

OOOOOOO

They were coming in an impossibly endless wave of pack after pack of frenzied attackers. It was one of the scariest things that Natasha Romanoff had ever seen, really, but even as she shot down another one she knew it was all because there was a completely different perception in her life, now. She'd faced life and death, before – countless times. This was scarier, not because she was afraid of dying, but because of the people she was with. The man standing near her, and the boy who was only a few feet beside her and slightly behind her were the reason.

Before, dying just meant that she'd lost. A terrible thing, yes, but honestly not too unexpected, given how she had been raised. Romanoff always assumed that she was going to die in some painful or brutal fashion. It was almost destined to be that way.

Now, though, if she fell, Peter would be right behind her. She knew – and had already seen first hand – that he was stubborn and unwilling to cut and run from her side if things went wrong, and they were definitely going wrong, just then. She couldn't lose, because then Peter would lose. Either he'd lose her and be so sad about it, or worse, he'd lose her and then would die trying to keep from losing her.

Stephen wasn't nearly as defenseless as Peter, she knew. He was powerful, brilliant, and handsome, and wonderful and she had to admit – even though they didn't really discuss it, much – that she loved him. Losing meant losing him. Or worse, disappointing him. That was much worse than dying, as far as she was concerned. But it was probably going to happen, this time. They were ridiculously outnumbered and facing someone who was willing to throw away the lives of his subordinates in a way that even Natasha had never encountered.

As scary as losing was, she had to salvage what she could, even as it happened. So, she watched as even more dogs came at them, and tried to figure out a way to get Peter out of there so he wouldn't see it happen when – if (but probably when) – she lost.

Strange had been considering the same thing, even as his magic attacks took out wide swaths of the creatures as they came at them. He didn't consider it a loss, yet, but he knew it wasn't a place where Peter should be. He watched as the boy tangled the legs of one of the dogs – which was then speared by a branch that Groot created, effectively killing it – and decided that it was time to get him out of there before it was too late.

He even knew how to do it without too much of an argument.

"We need more help," he told Natasha, waving his hand and brushing one of the dogs back that had come too close to flanking Peter.

She nodded, killing another that the boy tangled up and then finding another target. It wasn't hard; there were hundreds, now. So many that even the magicians, Ironman and the other flyers couldn't keep up with them. She saw an arrow fly by from the roof, land in a pack that were heading at an angle to go after Steve and T'Challa – who had their hands full with the beast they were trying to keep away from the main building – and then explode, sending dog guts and other parts flying.

"Bruce is coming, but he might not make it on time."

No way to portal him in from the conference that he'd been attending, since none of the sorcerers had ever been to the airport in Lincoln, Nebraska. He'd been tossed into a 2-seat fighter and was being flown put, but even with constant afterburners, it was still a distance.

"I was thinking something a little more impressive," Stephen said.

"The Hulk is pretty impressive," Peter said, looking over when his stomach warned him that something was happening, and sending a short burst of webbing at yet another dog, this time hitting it's face and keeping it from biting Groot, who dispatched it with ease.

"More god-like," Strange told them, calmly.

Romanoff realized immediately what he was doing – and thinking; he could see it in her expression. She approved – and decided it would work better coming from him.

"We need Thor and the Asgardians," she agreed. "They have a few berserkers, Thor told me. That would be ideal."

"Yeah. He could fry these guys," Peter said, also agreeing. "We should have come up with a way to call him when we needed help."

"We have a way," Strange said, turning back to the fray.

"He's right," Natasha told him, shooting down another dog with a perfect shot between its eyes that dropped it. "The portal."

"That's for escaping."

"It's also a good way to let him know we need him. Go get him, tell him we're being overrun."

"But-"

"Go, Peter," she told him. "Before it's too late."

"I don't want to leave you."

"You're going to get help," the wizard said. "And we could use it."

"They're right," Alec said. "You need to break off here and go to Asgard."

"No. I'm not running away." He said it aloud, both to the alien in his head, and to the spy and sorcerer.

"You're not running away," Alec responded, even as Natasha and Stephen both found themselves occupied with another swarm and couldn't argue, just yet. "You know there's only one way to really win this, right?"

"With the stones."

"Exactly. If you gather them, you can use them and finish this once and for all. And keep Thanos from ever using them at the same time."

"I can't hold them."

"Think of a way," Alec said. "You have as much time as it takes to go from here to the workroom."

The first stone was already within reach. Someone as techno-smart as Peter wouldn't have any problem removing the stone from Vision's head – and there were plenty of tools there.

"Go, Peter!" Natasha told him, again, with more fervor, this time. "We need you to get reinforcements."

He turned toward her.

"I can't leave you."

"Stephen will watch my back," she assured him. "Go."

Spurred on by all of them urging him – although Strange and Natasha didn't know Alec was urging him to do something completely different than what they wanted him to do – Peter broke and ran toward the nearest entrance. Which happened (and not by accident) to be closest to the gym.

"He's going to come back with Thor, you know," Strange said, relieved that the boy was out of danger – somewhat.

"Hopefully Thor will make him stay on Asgard."

They didn't have time for any more discussion; the wave of attackers was coming, again, and they needed to keep the creatures out of the building to buy Peter time to escape.

OOOOOOO

He was wracking his mind as he ran, trying to think of what was in the workroom that he might be able to use to make a glove. Something metal that might buffer the energy of the stone. He looked down at his hand, wondering how big it would need to be. Iron wasn't going to do the trick, though. It would hold the stones – that was easy, although manufacturing it would take too long – but it wouldn't buffer Peter from the energy enough to allow him to be that close.

Even wearing the vibranium nanotech suit glove underneath it.

"What you need is a vibranium glove," Alec told him. "Maybe we can go to Wakanda and see if Shuri has any ideas?"

Peter suddenly stopped short – mentally and physically – as he realized they didn't need to go anywhere. He already had something that might work. In his mind, Alec was following his thoughts and the boy felt a surge of excitement and approval, even as he wheeled on his heel and headed for his quarters.

OOOOOOOO

"What are you seeing, Carol?" Tony asked, making yet another run along the inner edge of the shield. "Tell me some good news for a change."

"They're already engaging some national guard units," she reported. "But they're not stopping to fight. If I had to bet, I'd say they've been told to go for the city and not bother with anything less than an entire population to go after."

"Makes sense," Steve said, dodging a swipe of an incredibly large staff weapon. He had to dodge it, well aware that taking a hit from it would hurt a lot more than a normal-sized weapon would. "More casualties and more chaos."

"And more destruction," Tony said, remembering as easily as Steve just how much damage the last alien attack had caused the city of New York. "Keep them away."

"We're working on it," Carol assured him.

Tony made another check of Peter, and realized that the boy wasn't beside Romanoff. He didn't dare take the time to call Peter – or risk distracting him – but he felt a surge of relief, knowing the only way Peter would have left Natasha was if she'd sent him away, and Friday showed him running down the corridors inside the building near his quarters.

Hopefully just grabbing something that he decided that he couldn't live without before he took the bolt portal to safety.

OOOOO

Peter was shocked to find the door to his quarters broken and hanging in pieces from its frame. Immediately, he was worried about Jack and Nutmeg – although it probably wasn't the time to be concerned about a kitten and a dog.

"Karen? Find Jack and Nutmeg," he requested, fearing the worst, even as he deactivated the helmet of his suit.

There wasn't a sign of a fight, and no blood, but –

"Jack is in the lounge and Nutmeg is in a corridor near the command center."

"They're okay?"

"Appear to be."

Peter went to the shelf in his bedroom, putting both animals out of his thoughts just then as he reached for the Ironman doll that the toddler loved so much. Or rather, the vibranium polymorph cage that was holding it safe from Nutmeg's constant attentions.

At his touch, the cage melted away and reformed into the simple block of vibranium, waiting. Peter moved it into his right hand, holding the doll in his left.

"I need a glove," he said to it. "As thick as can be."

As he (and Alec) watched, the vibranium formed around the glove of his suit, stopping at his web-shooter, and then forming several more layers to make up the rest of glove, fingers and all.

"Brilliant," Alec approved.

"Let's hope it's enough," Peter said.

He started to toss the doll on the bed, and changed his mind. Even as he ran out of his rooms, his suit disengaged just enough to allow him to tuck the doll into his pocket before reforming, and he reactivated the helmet as he ran for the workroom – and Vision.