Author's Note: Eeeeep! Hello all and welcome! This story is a take on what happened to our heroes in the intermediary stages. What did the survivors do after Thanos snapped and left? What really happened to those who were turned to dust?
Disclaimer: Any characters mentioned in this story that share any semblance to characters in the MCU movies are property of Marvel, not the author of this fanfiction.
Okie, boring stuff out of the way. Here we go! Keeping this chapter short, just to gauge interest!
When he awoke, it wasn't instant. His senses came back slowly. The sound of explosions ripping through the air, dulled by his mind slowly returning to full speed. His nose smelled the acrid metallic fumes and it took him longer than he was comfortable with to recognize the smell of smoke and blood through the air. His skin slowly began to register the sweat in his suit, the blood on his face—his blood he later realized—the grime caked on his cheeks and neck, the sweat burning in his eyes. Despite the burning, he fought to open his eyes and try to make sense of what it was he was staring at. A strange, semi-circular shape, just there on the end of his arm.
He groaned and rolled over, a herculean task given how badly his muscles screamed in protest. His body ached for rest, but he forced himself up. He gasped for air, even as he stood, swaying slightly on the spot from exhaustion and fatigue, dangerously close to collapsing unconscious on the debris. He looked out into the carnage and destruction before him, his eyes hazily zeroing in on the looming enemy. Even from this distance, the figure was imposing, standing tall and proud in his cracked armor. He seemed uninterested, almost bored. And rightfully so, for the man had only just seen the approaching figures behind the armored giant.
The army was here, rallying behind their leader, and here he was, just one man. He had half a mind to reach up to his ear to access comms, in the small hopes that someone—anyone—was still there to help. But with the growing size of the army before him, he realized that, as powerful as they were, there was no way they could beat a whole army.
So he was hesitant to believe his own ears when the comms crackled slightly. Perhaps they were damaged in his fight. Perhaps it was someone else under the rubble, attempting to ask for help.
"Cap?"
He sighed, exhaustedly, mentally preparing himself for more bad news. But wait…he knew that voice...
"Cap, it's Sam. Can you hear me?"
Sam? But he'd been destroyed hadn't he? It was deliriousness setting in. From all that exhaustion, the rush of adrenaline finally wearing off, coupled with the dread of losing everything again, it was too much for him. He was starting to hear things. But…there was hope. If the voice was there, even if it was in his head, then there was hope.
Moving his hand to his ear slowly, the man made to speak, but froze when he heard a new sound behind him.
"On your left," the voice in his ear, Sam, said.
The man obeyed and turned, seeing another confusing sight: a strange halo of blinding light, like a door, was simply hovering there behind him. Around the edges, sparks were flying off, similar to those from a welding torch. From the light emerged three figures, a man in an entirely black suit with two women on either side, one with a spear and one with powerful looking cestuses. He knew that face, he knew all their faces. Their faces all showed pride and strength, and the man gave the slightest of nods in acknowledgement.
From the halo of light, out flew a large bird. It took him a moment to realize it was merely a man with metal wings. It was him, it was Sam. And for the first time, he felt the muscles in his cheeks pull his mouth into a smile of relief. Had they done it? Was he dreaming?
But even as the man watched Sam fly about, he noticed that dozens of other gates were opening up now, all through the sky. Out of one landed a muscular looking man with tattoos all over his skin, wielding two menacing looking knives. Beside him, a diminutive woman with two antennae sprouting from her forehead and large round eyes. A few moments later, another figure flew out, landing beside them. He had red eyes, but it was soon revealed to be a sort of helmet, as it receded away to reveal a human face with an expression wrenched in concern and alarm.
With lightning speed came yet another arrival, a small boyish figure, wearing red and blue, with glowing white triangular eyes. He landed with all the agility and silence of a spider, and as the figure straightened, the helmet retracted back mechanically to reveal a boyish face with a sprout of brown hair. His face was etched with worry as he looked on at the approaching army.
At a war cry, the man turned, looking back at the first arrivals, ecstatic to see that they had brought with them their people, the warrior race, all armed and ready.
The rifts grew wider and wider, allowing even more people in, whole armies and ships in. Among all of it, the man recognized people he'd known and cared for, people he thought were gone, some people he'd only heard about, and others still whom he didn't recognize.
A stern looking man with long black hair, toting a rifle and a metallic arm, another figure that looked entirely like a walking tree, a woman in regal looking armor atop a horse, menacing looking warriors made entirely of stone, a flying woman with fiery red hair, her hands glowing with mystical scarlet energy, several men and women in monk attire, their hands lit up with strange circular shields of light inscribed with glowing runes, A woman who seemed to grow out of thin air, a man with long blonde hair and a vicious axe, an aged scientist in a high tech red-and-gold suit of armor, a similar, more feminine purple and silver suit of armor landing beside him. Behind them, the collapsed building that they'd been standing in burst open, and from inside a giant appeared, it too donned in a suit of futuristic armor of its own. The giant man lowered himself only momentarily to drop off three more figures that it had in its hand before straightening: a massive hulking green giant, a machine similar to the red and gold armor, and a racoon with a rifle and goggles. Though the expression of the second couldn't be read due to it's faceplate, the other two were clearly ready for a fight.
They poured in by the thousands, an army of their own to match the one that amassed behind the leader across no man's land. The man turned, bolstered on by the surprise and welcome appearances. They'd done it. Everyone was back. And now, with absolutely everyone there, they had a chance. They could win.
His fatigue seemed to disappear on its own. His gasps for breath to try and regain energy became heavy breathing in an attempt for his body to try and process the sudden surge of adrenaline through his body. And as the new arrivals all formed a line behind the man, the resolve of their towering armored enemy appeared to have shaken slightly.
The man glanced left, then right, watching as the last few stragglers formed the line. A surgeon from New York City, his hands glowing with the same circular shields with runes, the kid from Queens crouched low, ready to spring forward into action, a pirate from space shrugging his shoulders and cracking his neck to ready himself, a tattooed alien brandishing his knives and growling at the enemy, a God from a destroyed world landing beside him, axe in hand.
This was it. After all the hurt, after all the sorrow, after all the suffering this lone figure across from them had caused, it was time to fight back. There were countless worlds that this one creature had laid waste to. Countless lives lost to his cruelty, to further his mad quest. Even with all their powers, they couldn't bring all those people back, couldn't bring all those worlds back. But they could do one thing. They would do one thing.
They'd avenge them all.
"Avengers!" the man cried, thrusting out his right hand; everyone heard him. The deafening silence was too much to bear and many were glad for the lone call. Just as the God landed beside him, hefting his own axe with anticipation, an old-fashioned hammer came hurtling through the air, right for the outstretched hand. The man caught it, bracing himself against it; it was much heavier than it looked.
He could hardly contain himself, gritting his teeth as he glared at the figure across the battlefield.
"Assemble."
A/N: Squeeeee I got goosebumps writing this! Anyway, I do hope you all are as excited about this story as I am! I can't wait to continue! As always, creative criticisms are always appreciated! Let me know what you think!