Chapter 1: The Snap

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction that uses characters, themes, and universe that belong to Marvel Studios, the writers/directors of the MCU, and the brilliant mind of Stan Lee. I do not own nor claim any of the characters as my own creation, other than the original character R'dawē. Thank you for your attention and enjoy!

Author's Note: The main character's name is spelled Circe, but pronounced like Saoirse ("sir-sha"). She is based on Jack Kirby's original character, but I have created an original backstory and characterization for her. This is NOT the MCU Circe.

Suddenly, the meeting hall broke into chaos.

Bewildered screams, the metal screeches of chairs being pushed back, rapid footsteps on the tile floor…and yet an eerily cold silence layered over it. It took a moment for her to register what was going on at first. Consumed in her notes and preparing for the speech she was about to give, Circe had not been paying much attention to the speaker. But when the screaming started, she couldn't help but lift her gaze, where she saw the Assistant Director of Peacekeeping turn to dust.

The pen she was holding fell from her grasp.

Was this real? Were her eyes betraying her? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone from the British delegation begin to dissolve into what appeared to be ash. Was this a biological weapon? Before she could really process what was happening, amidst the noise and rapid disintegration of the people in the room, Circe felt a hand on her arm. Turning, in what seemed like slow motion, she met the eyes of a young Chinese woman who frequently sat near her at meetings, was friendly enough, and probably worked in one of the development offices.

Not a second had passed before the horrified eyes of the other woman began to fade into the grey dust that seemed to proliferate throughout the room on a high-pitched whispering breeze. Only a hand remained grasping Circe's arm and within the blink of an eye, that too had disappeared. Circe sprung up out of her chair, not thinking, merely reacting physically to the shock that her brain could not simply process in real time. What was happening? She backed up, tripping over something, before racing towards the outer doors. The meeting chamber was filled with dust and a grim, menacing silence that echoed with the scream so the survivors who fled down the hallways.

Circe felt sick. Nauseous. She grasped the balcony railing tightly, hoping that it would steel herself against whatever just happened in the meeting chamber. Her breaths came anxiously and a creeping sense of dread settled under her skin. For a few heartbeats, it seemed as if she had imagined it and that nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

Then she saw the plane go down.

Outside of the window, somewhere across the harbor, a jet abruptly turned earthward, plummeting rapidly. A large-scale terrorist attack? Chemical weapons causing hallucinations? Something even more unprecedented? Hardly two minutes had passed since the screams had begun and yet the possibilities were flying through her head, soaring unabatedly with no real consideration. Things had been tense at the United Nations headquarters since the alien spaceship – the rolling donut, wheel of destruction, whatever it was – had descended just blocks away on Bleecker Street. Mass paranoia was certainly an option, especially given the lack of data that could explain the spaceship's appearance. But it had happened. Circe was certain of that; she and her team had spent weeks analyzing the craft, videos of it, its trajectory out of the atmosphere. The lack of proper answers was equal parts frustrating and terrifying. What did it mean?

The place where the Chinese staffer's hand had remained, disembodied but fading, seemed to burn. Was it a contagion? Was she next?

She couldn't focus. She couldn't breathe. What was happening? Turning around and sliding down the glass pane that cordoned off the balcony, Circe squatted on the floor. Her left hand remained on the railing, as if grasping for some kind of normal, tangible answer, while her other arm wrapped around her midsection, endeavoring to hold herself together against what could be inevitable. What she had witnessed was beyond comprehension. One second, the meeting was progressing as normal and the next, human beings were dissipating into what seemed like particles of ash.

Trying to collect her thoughts, Circe stayed where she was, hearing only her heartbeat, her ragged breath, and the high-pitched silence that remained after her colleagues disappeared. She had to stay calm, figure out whatever this was. All signs pointed towards something extraterrestrial, making it her responsibility. Outside the massive edifice of the building, car horns blared, sirens began to roar, and people screamed. From her perspective, behind the glass and the concrete walls, it all sounded strangely muted. She was afraid to turn around and look. This was a catastrophe, but at what level, she did not yet know. To her, without any context, it appeared as an inexplicable occurrence.

Several minutes passed, though it felt like hours. Circe, feeling like a ghost of herself, managed to find strength to pull herself to her feet. She was shaky. But she was still here. That fact alone gave her the motivation to take one step, another, and another until she was running in the direction of her department's offices.

Inside, it seemed silent. A bad sign. "HELLO?" she yelled, hoping for a response, any response. A sign of life from her coworkers that would indicate that the traumatizing events in the meeting room were isolated. But she was met with silence. "HELLO? ANYONE?" she screamed again, panic edging into her voice. The receptionist's desk was empty, a cup of coffee still steaming on the corner by the telephone. Was everyone...gone?

"Circe? Hey...I was looking for..."

"Oh thank God!" Circe threw herself at R'dawē.

If he was here, then it wasn't everyone. It couldn't be everyone. There was hope.

"I got a signal fro– Seer, what's wrong? Where is everyone?" he asked, seeming to notice for the first time that they were alone in the office and that Circe's arms were locked tightly around him, her head laying against his shoulder.

"I...I don't...R'dawē something's happened," her voice wavered as she tried to give form to her racing thoughts. "I…I can't explain it, but they're gone."

"Gone? What do you mean?"

"In the meeting chamber..." she started, before her voice cracked, "in the middle of a speech, something happened and the speaker, he turned to...to dust...and then other people started...disintegrating...right before my eyes...I don't understand..."

R'dawē's eyes clouded. It sounded insane, but from the shaken, wide-eyed look on his normally placid best friend, the gravity of her words began to settle in.

"Everyone?" He asked, not wanting to know the answer. After reading the unusual seismic data coming from his home country of Wakanda, his suspicions had already begun to stir, but now they began to turn into a disquieting foreboding.

"Not everyone, I don't think," she replied. "I don't know. After the first few, everyone started running and..."

Simultaneously, their eyes had wandered to behind the receptionist's desk, near where they stood. A tiny pile of dust sat on the floor, being gently blown about by the space heater located under the desk. Both took a step backwards, the horror of the situation enveloping them. R'dawē put a hand to his head, trying to process the inconceivable. His back hit the wall by the director's door and he slowly slid down to the floor. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in.

"They've...vanished?" R'dawē whispered slowly, not wanting to admit it to himself.

Circe paused before nodding, feeling dread pool in her stomach as the reality set in. Hearing it out loud sounded so final. So definite.

What she had seen couldn't be believed. And yet... Her eyes widened without really seeing anything in front of her, as her mind started processing the next steps.

There was an idea...