The New Avengers had regrouped in Stark Tower. S.H.E.I.L.D. agents in New York had taken the captive thug to their holding facility to await questioning. The group sat silently in the briefing room at the top of the tower, looming over New York City. Randall had seen a medic for the various burns on his body, and now sat, staring out one of the windows in the briefing room. Renee stood on the opposite side of the room, far away from the rest of their so-called "team", staring out of a window, into the city, the buildings casting long shadows in the setting sun. Terra sat, her Iron Valkyrie suit reduced to the small pack on her back, at the conference table, fidgeting nervously with her phone. To her left, Aro stood, with arms crossed behind one of the chairs, glaring across the table at Terra's right, Erick sat, arms crossed, staring at the ground, lost in thought. All but Renee jumped when the doors flew open and an obviously agitated Maria stormed in.

She walked to the front of the conference room, her boots thudding on the polished floor. She stood at the far end of the table, and leaned on it, fingers tapping away at the wood. After an agonizingly long silence, she said in a soft, frighteningly calm voice,
"The prisoner you all apprehended has no idea who or where he is."
The group looked up, confused, and Maria continued after a long pause.
"There's no way to know for sure why he can't remember, or who could be behind this. We might have been able to deduce something, had you completed your mission as ordered and captured them all."

"Commander," Terra started, trying to reason with Maria. However, the Commander shot her a harsh look and said sharply,
"Miss Stark, I don't think we need to discuss just how catastrophic that mission was."
The room was silent, the tension in the room, palpable.
"Dismissed." Maria said, disgusted, as she walked out of the room. The group was still, and silent.

Randall broke the silence by standing up with a,
"Well, I sure as hell could use a drink."
He walked out ignoring the piercing glares of his teammates. Slowly, the rest of the team filtered out of the conference room, until it was just Terra sitting at the conference table, the dread setting in her heart.

JARVIS had shown all of the New Avengers to their designated suites on the upper floors of Stark Tower, and the evening had found Erick Banner lying on his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. Guilt and dread tore at his chest, as he stressed over what had happened that day. What was he thinking, joining up with this team? He wasn't a fighter, he was a thinker, even when he took on his other form. Everyone expected from him the same rage and strength that his father before him had exhibited as the Hulk. When he was but a child of 5 years and it became apparent that he'd inherited his father's "condition", his parents had immediately begun training him in every manner of self-calming techniques they possibly could. Even through all of the meditation and controlled breathing, he had never once felt out of control. Even when he was a child and threw temper tantrums that put holes in the walls and broke countless pieces of furniture, it was never anything more than the temper of a child.

Erick had seen the videos of his father as the Hulk, and wondered if he would ever be capable of that kind of power, or that kind of destruction. He just didn't feel like he could ever be that. His father had had something of a split-personality. He was the same person, just two drastically different states of being. Erick (thankfully) hadn't inherited that. When he was in his other form, he was still himself. And these people expected him to run around throwing giant tantrums every time something threatened them. Erick sighed and stood up to go take a shower, thinking that perhaps some hot water would help to ease the tightness in his chest.

As he stood up, he heard a knock on his door. He walked over hesitantly, and slowly opened the door. Through the two inch opening, he saw the flame red hair of Tony Stark's daughter.
"Hey Banner," she said, "uh, you're not busy are you? I just came by to talk, but, I mean, I can always come back later-"
"No, no," Erick said opening the door wider, "come on in."

Terra walked in, moving to stand in the middle of the sitting area of the small suite, as Banner closed the door behind her. She didn't know why she had stopped by his room. Perhaps it was because of his impartiality to this whole conflict that she felt a sort of kinship with him. The two stood awkwardly in the center of the suite, Erick waiting for Terra to speak, and Terra not knowing what exactly she wanted to talk about. Finally, Terra broke the silence,
"So, how about that mission?"
Erick seemed to trip over his following apology, "Yeah, I am so incredibly sorry for that. I know I should have done something, a lot of things actually, but I just didn't know. I mean-"
"Banner," Terra interjected, stopping him, "it wasn't just you, the whole team is at fault."
She then gave her father's trademark mischievous grin,
"Though it's mostly Randall and Aro's fault."That made Banner grin.

She knew it was no good to go around assigning blame and taking sides, but his smile gave her hope that maybe she could salvage a team of heroes from the wreckage of the day. The mood now a bit more comfortable, Terra sat down on one of the chairs in the living area, Banner doing the same.
"So," she said, taking on a more serious tone, "do you want to talk about today? I'm not, like, punishing you." she chuckled, "It was just really weird to see the son of the famous Hulk in the middle of a fight looking lost."
"Yeah," Erick said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't know, I mean, I just didn't really know what to do."
Terra's brow furrowed, "Well, don't you, you know, change?"
"Well, yeah. I get big and blue and-"
"No, I mean, your dad's whole personality changed when he was the Hulk, like they were two different people. So I figured that you changed too, it's just that, for some reason, you're not mean. You know?"
"Well, my dad was always himself when he changed; he always recognized my mom, and his friends and enemies when he was the Hulk, and, for the most part, treated them accordingly."
"Well then what about you?"
"I'm" Erick paused, sighing, "I'm the same when I change. I could change right now and keep having this conversation with you." Again he paused, "I'm not a fighter, no matter what I look like or who my father is."
"Then why did you join?" Terra asked bluntly, "You had to have known what we were going to be doing."
"Yeah, I knew, I just…" he trailed off.

Erick hadn't really thought that one through. When he heard that his father had rejected S.H.E.I.L.D.'s offer for an Avengers reunion, his first thought was that, as the son of the (in)famous Hulk, it was his duty to take up his father's mantle. However he was fairly certain he was doing a crappy job of fulfilling the title of giant green rage monster. He'd just packed his bag, shook his dad's hand, kissed his mother goodbye, and walked out the door without thinking of what might be expected of him. Terra noticed his discomfort, and spoke up,
"Erick, your dad was a force of nature. The Hulk was the true meaning of "super-human". And I seriously doubt that you didn't inherit that. I think you just need to learn how to let go." She said leaning back with that trademark Stark attitude.

Erick frowned, "letting go" was something of an alien concept to him. His whole life had revolved around being able to control himself, and he didn't really think that was something that was going to change anytime soon.

High above the city, speeding away from the impressive Stark Tower, Aro attempted to quell his Asgardian fury. He found solace and peace in flying, there was nothing around to tempt him to violence. No problems, no boundaries, just him and the sky. His mother had taught him the value of remaining calm, and thinking things through, rather than allowing his father's temper to burn through and demand justice through violence. He landed with a thud in the middle of a hilly field to the west of that dirty island of metal and lights. He breathed deep and took in the scent of whatever crops the Midgardians grew around this area. He closed his eyes, and saw his mother with her limitless love and grace, and his father, whom he admired so greatly. He then saw the face of his grandfather, the mighty Odin, who he was sure, at first, had disapproved of his very existence. However, Aro's burning desire to prove himself worthy of being the son of Thor, and the grandson of Odin had paid off.

Aro opened his eyes, and began wandering aimlessly through the golden fields around him. He ignored the stares from the scarce Midgardians driving by in their noisy vehicles, and let his mind wander in the past to try to forget the grievous failure of that day. He remembered leaving home for the first time, to go on an adventure with some other young Asgardians. They, of course, mocked him and berated him for being a half-breed, but that made his resolve all the stronger. They had gone to the Alfheim to slay the great Wolf that had been terrorizing the elves there. Aro could not suppress the grin spreading across his face as he remembered the dismay of his peers and the pride of his parents when he returned to Asgard after single-handedly slaying the great beast. His grandfather had even been pleased with his success, and had thus given him his sword Gram, the legendary Dragon Slayer.

For years after that, he had gone on many adventures and won many battles, eventually earning the respect of most of his Asgardian peers, and more importantly, the respect of his grandfather, the Allfather. It was during the last Odinsleep, a mere 5 Midgardian years ago, that Aro had finally proved, without a doubt, his worth as his father's son. The Frost Giants assaulted the walls of Asgard, as they did each time the Allfather entered the Odinsleep, however, this time, things were looking grim. They had been laying siege for several days, and impossibly, more and more giants arrived every day. The fortifications to the wall and the gates were weakening with the giants' incessant pounding. Thor had left the wall, along with Lady Sif and her Valkyries to help Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg and the remaining Asgardian soldiers try to beat the Giants back away from the wall. Aro watched from atop the wall, directly above the gate, as several of the giants made their way around the band of warriors, and commenced pounding at the main gate. Most of the soldiers had left the wall to help keep the gate closed against the giants' massive strength. Aro recalled the overwhelming dread that had welled up in the pit of his stomach as he looked on their worsening situation. Suddenly, noticing the flames of one of the beacons atop the wall, an idea came to him. A mad idea that could have gotten him killed, but if he could just pull it off for long enough, it just might save them all.

Aro had then coated his sword in oil from a nearby pile of hastily stored supplies. And then, plunging Gram into the beacon, he leaped from the wall, down onto one of the giants, plunging the flaming sword into the giant's head. Aro had then single handedly cleared the gate of the giants, and held them at bay, allowing for his father and his warriors to once again gain the upper hand, this time for good. That next day, Odin awoke from his sleep, and was told the tale of Aro's feat of courage and valor. Walking through the fields of Midgard, Aro smiled and put his hand on Gram's hilt as he remembered the day he had been given his ability to control flame and his gift of flight. He remembered the celebration that had been held in his honor, and how proud his parents were of him.

That had been the happiest event of his life. Then he remembered. He remembered that his traitor uncle had taken all of that from him. He felt his Asgardian temper rising, that flame of righteous fury, as he thought of all that hung in the balance, and how those sad excuses for "heroes" were bungling the whole thing. They would never be heroes; how could they? They couldn't see past their own egos, their pitiful problems, their selfish desires. Aro clenched his fists as he swore to himself, if it meant fighting an entire army of Frost Giants with only Gram at his side, he would do whatever it took to free his family. No matter the cost.

Renee sat in her room, at the desk in the corner, cleaning her pistol with professional speed and precision. Taking the gun apart, all the little pieces, scrubbing them and polishing them, seeing them shine in the fluorescent light of her room, calmed her. Putting all the pieces back together, seeing how they fit perfectly, helped her to make sense of the world. Why couldn't everything fit together as well as the pieces of a gun? All of these tiny pieces worked together to make it work, to fulfill its purpose. If they all fought each other and went their own separate ways, the gun wouldn't fire. That's what the others didn't realize, that you all have to cooperate, you have to see the big picture, and work together to complete the mission. If the hammer on her magnum decided that it didn't want to work with the rest of the gun, then she might not have been able to rescue the innocent people she and her squad had saved from terrorists in the jungles of Africa all those years ago. That's something she'd always had over every other soldier she'd served with, her ability to immediately recognize the "big picture" and what exactly needs to be done about it.

She had just clicked the final piece into place when her S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued communicator began beeping. She answered,
"Captain," she heard Maria say, "report to the fifty-fourth floor laboratory immediately."
"Yes ma'am." She replied curtly, pocketing her communicator and her pistol. She made her way down the three floors to the lab, walking right past the guards stationed outside the doors. When she entered, she saw Maria, her long black coat and S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued uniform contrasting heavily with the white of the room around her, standing with two white-clad technicians around an examination table. Atop the table was the confiscated weapon.

"Director," Renee said as she snapped to attention. Maria nodded at her, and Renee made her way to her superior's side. The director was silent as the two watched the technicians poke and prod at the weapon in front of them. Maria broke the silence.

"Remember that time in Africa?" she said in a more familiar tone.
"Which one?"
"The hostage situation just outside of Wakanda. M'Baku's men had weapons just like this."
"So you think they could have been behind the attack?" Renee wasn't so sure.
"No, I doubt even the Wakandan's themselves could have come up with weapons like these. Theirs were more like conventional Earth tech, remember? These are almost the exact same weapons from the Chitauri attack thirty years ago."
"So you think the Chitauri are behind this?"
"I'm not sure." Renee remained silent, pensive. She was sure that the Chitauri would just as soon have killed those thugs as armed them and sent them into the city.
"Even if they were, it still wouldn't explain the thug's loss of memory." The two were silent, both trying to work through the facts and the "what-if's" to figure out who was behind this.