Chapter 21
"Elders, I can assure you that the situation is handled," T'Challa raised a hand to calm the other members of the Council.
Around the room sat the members of the tribes of Wakanda, all of whom were sharing their criticism of the events that occurred earlier in the day.
"If it were handled, then we would not have been placed in this situation in the first place," the ruler of the Mining Tribe pointed out.
Since T'Challa's returned to the world of the living, the Council has been on his back regarding the nation's issues. He couldn't help but notice that the five years that they've been in charge have caused them to become more disagreeable with their king.
"They were after our vibranium. This issue was going to come to Wakanda eventually," T'Challa explained.
"There is still the matter of not accepting their deal," the Border Tribe's leader responded.
"I was in the process of planning a bargain before Captain Danvers struck," the king explained, "However, if we were to go through with handing the vibranium to them, the rest of the galaxy, perhaps the universe, they would have been placed in danger."
"That is not our concern, your majesty", the elderly leader of the Merchant Tribe replied, "What is your concern is prioritizing your people over the issues of others."
"We agreed to open Wakanda's borders to the rest of the world, yet so far, we have opened our nation to reckless gods and alien hordes," explained the head of the River Tribe, "Some of these so-called heroes caused more damage than the attackers. Even the Jabari are hesitant to continue their support of your crusade."
If you had told T'Challa years ago that he would prefer M'Baku's company over the Tribal Council, he would've called you a madman.
T'Challa sighed, "I understand your concerns-"
"But that is not enough", the elderly tribal leader interrupted, "You must decide for yourself, your majesty. Do your loyalties lie with Wakanda or with the Avengers? It cannot be both. The heroes of America may want their warrior but our home needs their king. So what shall it be?"
The king stared around, looking at the disappointed faces of those he looked up to for so many years. All of his life was spent preparing for when he became the king, for when he was put in a position where he needed to make the tough decisions. Now, he didn't even know what the choices were anymore.
That shame, that feeling like he could've done more, it filled up the soul of the Black Panther.
…
The massive doors to the meeting room opened up as T'Challa exited, his eyes hollow and almost emotionless. The guilt he felt inside almost broke his spirit, his mind unable to think of anything other than the damage created by the battle.
In the hallways stood Sam and Carol, neither of whom were speaking with one another based on the distance between them. They turned their heads up to see the Wakandan king marching forwards, T'Challa's eyes turning away from them.
Carol turned to the ruler, genuine sympathy and regret on her face, "T'Challa?"
The captain's words fell on deaf ears as the Wakandan continued to walk past her.
"T'Challa, I'm so sorr-", Carol stopped herself when it was clear to her that T'Challa wasn't in the mood for apologies.
Sam watched the ruler exit the halls, a worried look in his eyes as he realized it was now only him and Carol in the room.
The ex-soldier shook his head with restrained anger, "You couldn't have just waited."
Carol turned her head towards the leader, "Excuse me?"
He raised his head, looking her dead in the eyes, "You couldn't have just waited a few GODDAMN MINUTES before you nearly got us blown to kingdom come! What the hell were you thinking?!"
"'What was-?' I couldn't let the Kree take the vibranium! If they got their hands on that, the rest of the galaxy would be doomed!", she yelled back at him, "Billions of lives on our heads if we did nothing!"
"And your plan was to piss them off?! Get them to fire down at us?! Hell, did you even have a plan or did you just wanna attack?!"
"I had a plan! Attack!"
Sam belted out a humorless laugh, "Christ, priceless! Thirty decades fighting the exact same threat and that's the decision you came to!"
"At least I came up with a decision!", Carol shouted, "You call yourself 'the leader' yet you never give an actual plan or even an opinion! Like you're trying to please everyone!"
"I'm trying to protect everyone!"
"So am I!", Carol yelled, "The world! The universe! It's all bigger than us!"
"What, you're some type of 'greater good, nothing else matters' type of hero now?"
"Those three decades? They were spent keeping the Kree at bay from the innocent lives across the galaxy! The Kree are always right at their borders! The vibranium would've let them wipe out everyone! Families! Innocent people!"
"And Wakanda's just expendable?"
"I never said that," Carol shook her head, trying to keep her temper.
"You run off to kill your old boss! Leave us on the battlefield!"
"I was catching the damn missiles! Unless you'd rather we were all scorched!"
Sam raised his arms up in frustration, "Those damn missiles wouldn't have launched if you hadn't decided to tick them off with your stupid vendetta! No wonder Val has it out for you!"
Carol's eyes widened for a moment before she sighed.
Sam glared, "Yeah. Strange told me the shit you pulled with Brunnhilde. You think you can drag Wanda into your crap?"
"That was a mistake," Carol admitted, "But don't put all of this on me because you're pissed at yourself!"
"Why the hell would I be-?"
"You're itching so badly to be the next Steve Rogers, trying to give out orders, but you can't even come to any decision yourself! You act like because you wear the shield, that means we all fall in line, yet the second you can't toss it, you give up!"
"Don't act like you know anything about Rogers or me!"
"And don't act like you know anything about the Kree or me."
The two stared each other down, vivid anger between the two before Sam turned his body around and marched off fuming, leaving Carol alone in the halls with only her thoughts.
…
In one of the rooms of the Citadel, Wanda sat alone, her eyes staring up at the ceiling.
Outside, Rhodes and Strange were observing her, thoughts of earlier's debacle going through their heads.
"She was right there," Rhodes whispered, "Clear as day. She was right there."
Strange turned to the colonel, "You do realize-"
"That one of my best friends didn't return from the grave? Yeah. No shit, Sherlock", Rhodes bitterly replied.
Stephen sighed, "Has she always been able to do this? Illusions?"
"Hell no! I've seen her do her voodoo mind tricks and everything, but that...I've never seen her actually make something that...lifelike."
"Her powers are mutant, correct?"
Rhodes scoffed, "Honestly, I've got zero clue. One minute, it's Infinity Stones. Next minute, it's mutants. What's next? Magic?"
The silence from Strange slowly worried Rhodes as he realized what the doctor was thinking, "Wait, you don't think she's-"
"I've seen acts not too dissimilar from this in Kamar-Taj," Strange explained, "Not exactly an art we encourage, but-"
"I'm sorry. Back up. You think she's magic? Like...an actual witch?", Rhodes asked.
"Would it really surprise you?", Strange asked, "Either way, something like this, it can't continue."
Rhodes sighed, finding no other option but to agree with the man, "You're right."
"She needs to understand that if she doesn't hold back, she can cause some actual damage."
"Honestly, the sad part is...that was the most in control I've seen her in a while," Rhodes admitted, "I mean, she was kicking serious ass out there, but...I don't know. The fact that she turned to conjuring up the dead for reassurance…"
He bent his head down, his temple feeling like it was about to burst, "I've gotta go."
Rhodes brushed past Strange and exited, leaving the doctor alone to enter the room.
"You know, I can hear everything you say, right?", Wanda muttered, twirling her fingers around in the air as red mist seeped off of it.
"Figured," Strange shrugged before taking a seat next to her, "How are you feeling?"
"Is this the part where you ask me about my childhood?"
"Not that type of doctor."
"Are you still technically a doctor?"
"Okay, now you're just deflecting."
Wanda groaned, "I feel fine. No need to worry."
Strange scoffed, "Normally, I'd take that at face-value if, you know, you didn't create an illusion of a long-dead hero."
The red mist dissipated as Maximoff slowly began clenching her fists, "If you and Rhodey think I'm losing my mind-"
"I didn't say that."
"But you thought it, didn't you?", Wanda pointed out.
"...Why did you agree to help Danvers go into King Brunnhilde's mind?", the doctor asked the mutant.
"Danvers thought that she was hiding something that could helps us. Turns out we were wrong," explained the mutant.
"Alright. Then why did you keep looking into her mind after you were told to stop?"
Wanda paused, the question taking her off guard. She didn't know how much she could tell this man. After all, they had just met. She barely knew the guy.
"That's not your concern," she answered.
"I'm pretty sure it is given that you nearly broke her mind with your intrusion," Strange pointed out.
"I didn't mean to hurt her."
"Then what did you mean to do?", Strange asked, "What did you get out of searching her?"
"I don't know", she shook her head, trying to clear her mind.
"I think you do", Strange eyed her carefully, "Is this a mutant thing? Because I haven't really been up to date on that phenomenon."
"This has nothing to do with me being a mutant," Wanda glared.
"Then what-?"
"BECAUSE IT FELT GOOD!", she yelled out, screaming out the ground as red energy beamed off of her body.
After a moment of slow panicked breathing, the glow faded and she finally muttered some more words, "Because it felt good. To look into someone's head. To feel what they feel. Even a hellscape like Valkyrie's...It felt beyond satisfying."
Strange sighed, "You realize that in this line of work, it's not best to delve this deep into your powers."
Wanda let out a harsh chuckle, "Rich coming from the man who calls himself the Master of the Mystic Arts but hasn't gone full-Strange yet."
"Excuse me?", Stephen tilted his head in confusion.
"You could've wiped the floor against the Kree. Brought them to their knees. Sent them into other dimensions, whatever! I've seen you do it against Thanos's forces!"
Strange faltered, "...That was different."
"How? How was that different?! An alien army trying to wipe us off the map led by some delusional maniac?! Yeah, real difference there, Doctor!", Wanda began raising her voice.
"That was life or death!", Strange retorted, his fingers starting to tremble more and more.
"What? And this wasn't?!", Wanda yelled, "You know, you're all frightened by me, yet I'm actually using all of my power! Meanwhile, you hold back like you're too scared to-!"
Suddenly, in the middle of her sentence, a small vase sitting on a dresser behind Strange exploded, shards of the decorative object flying across the room. While Wanda's eyes widened with surprise, Stephen kept his head down, his face clearly tense and his pupils dilated.
What concerned Wanda the most was the way his hands were now vibrating at such a rapid pace, the veins bulging and glowing a dull gold as though trying to curl his fingers to create a fist caused immense pain.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Strange shook his head, as though he were trying to dispel unpleasant thoughts, "I...I'm sorry, I have to leave."
He exited the room in a hurry, leaving the mutant to sit by herself and allow the tears to slide down, her mind slowly scattering and crumbling.
…
Peter stood at the balcony at the top of the Citadel, looking over the wide nation with awe and wonder. Ever since the country opened itself up to the world, he was hoping to at least get a glimpse of it up close. Now, he was standing on top of the freaking palace itself.
"Nice night, huh?", spoke a voice from behind Peter.
Peter turned to see Mr. Osborn walking over, now wearing casual clothing with a few bandages covering his body.
"Mr. Osborn, hey!", Peter gave a small smile, "Shouldn't you be down in the medical center?"
The billionaire chuckled, "And do what? Healing? No, I'm perfectly fine. Tiptop shape."
The two leaned over the railing, taking it all in.
"It's beautiful, huh? It doesn't beat the Big Apple, but it's pretty damn impressive," Osborn snickered.
"I don't know. I mean New York all the way, but...Man, I never thought I'd ever get to travel here," Peter breathed.
"Wish it was under better circumstances."
"Yeah, but you get what life gives you," the Spider-Man shrugged.
"See, I'm of the variety who believe otherwise," the Iron Patriot chuckled, "You're not beholden to whatever life hands you. If there's something out there you want, you don't sit there and enjoy what you have. You strive to have it all."
"Eh, I guess I don't really want it all," Peter shrugged, "I've got Queens, I've got being Spider-Man. I mean, it's not easy, but I'm...I'm well enough."
"Yeah, well, sometimes enough isn't enough, if you catch my drift," Norman shrugged.
"How's Ned, by the way?"
"Still a little on-edge, but he's going to be fine. He's loyal. Has a lot of raw talent," the billionaire smiled, "He just needs someone to assist him. Show him the ropes."
Peter gave a small laugh, "Kind of like Mr. Stark."
Osborn's smile dropped a little but slowly nodding, his expression becoming somewhat warmer, "Yeah...I guess in a way, yeah."
After a moment of comfortable silence, Peter felt the question inside of him start to burn, "So...You have a son?"
The older man sighed, "His name's Harry. He's your age. Heading to Empire State this fall. He's not one for the spotlight."
"Is he into science?", Peter asked.
The armored hero snickered, "Not in the slightest. Honestly...I don't know what he's into these days. Kid can never stick to one thing. I love him, but...I always hoped he would follow in my footsteps, you know? Take over the company when I'm long gone. Spread the Osborn name."
Peter nodded slowly, sympathizing with the man, "But you still love him, right?"
"I mean, he's my boy. What else can I do?", Norman shrugged.
"So you became a hero because of him?"
"Not only him but every other kid looking to the skies for a hero. I want everyone to understand that I'm more than just some idiot billionaire trying to be something I'm not. I want...I want people to see me like how they see you."
A confused look crossed Peter's face, "As a menace? A kid? A weirdo?"
"A hero," Norman answered, looking at Peter with complete sincerity.
The obvious look of shock on the boy led to a laugh from Norman. Peter was surprised to hear such a term applied to him. He always wanted to be called that but for all of his career, even when the city didn't see him as a freak, they never called him a hero. He didn't even think he heard any of the other heroes call him that.
"You should see the look on your face," Norman smiled, "Believe me, you may not think so, but soon the world's going to see it. In fact…"
He pulled out a small tablet and began tapping it, a small video being projected off of the screen, "I think we're already making a good impression."
Peter eyed the video and realized that it was a recording of the battle from earlier. He saw himself swinging around and knocking over Goblins, him and Osborn fighting the Head Goblin, Osborn carrying the bomb through the portal.
"Wait, you...you were recording all of that?", Peter asked, surprised.
"Yep! Now the world can see what the new Avengers can do," Osborn grinned with pride, "Don't worry. Your face and your name were edited out, so you don't have to fear your identity coming out."
Peter looked over the footage and a small smile slowly grew, remembering the thrill of saving the day, protecting a country. Sure, they almost died, but he actually kicked ass for the first time in a while.
"Take pride in yourself, kid," Norman smiled, "Now, you're everyone's hero."
To be honest, Peter still didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, being recorded in action so that the world could see that he was actually the good guy, it was a smart move. And Mr. Osborn seemed like he really wanted to help the world rise from the pit of sorrow it's been trapped in since the end of the previous Avengers team.
On the other hand, that dream of being seen as a hero and using recordings and the media to help you gain recognition...It was exactly what Mysterio did.
Before he could say anything, the voice of Colonel Rhodes called out, "Hey, Peter."
"Oh, hey, Mr. Rhodey! What's up?", Peter grinned.
"You mind if I speak to Osborn alone?"
"Oh, come on, Big Guy, whatever you've got to say to me, you can say it in front of him," Osborn chuckled, "I mean, we're all teammates here."
"I think it's best if we're alone," the soldier glared at Osborn, standing his ground on the request.
Peter sighed, "It's-It's cool, sir. I'll just head out. See you later!"
The teenager leaped off of the balcony and began swinging away, his lean body moving further away from the palace.
"Man, you've got to admit, that looks cool," Osborn exhaled, "So, what's up, buttercup?"
"Look, you did good today. You saved our asses and...Your plan worked...Perfectly," Rhodes admitted hesitantly.
"Awh, no need to thank me, Colonel. Just doing my job," Osborn smiled.
"But this doesn't change my opinion of you, alright?"
"Pardon?"
"I was with Tony when he stepped away from the billionaire life after the Snap and I remember what he told me about you," Rhodes frowned at Osborn.
"All good things I hope," Osborn said with a sarcastic grin, as though he were begging Rhodey to go on.
"He called you a corporate douchebag whose main interest was securing your own legacy and making sure that everyone around you kissed your ass," Rhodes bluntly stated.
"Tad oversimplification, but I'm flattered nonetheless," Osborn smugly beamed.
"You know, it's funny. You're exactly what Tony hated about himself before he got kidnapped," Rhodes laughed without heart, "Except you try covering it up with this whole hero thing."
"I'm sorry, of the two of us, who stopped a bomb from bringing down this entire city?", snickered the richer man, "You mock me but at least one of us is actually trying to figure out their place in the world."
"Excuse me?", Rhodey asked, growing more and more angry.
"I mean, I know what I want in life. But you? What? More medals? A promotion? To be the grand hero? To be like Stark? What's your endgame? Your motivation?"
"Simple: I don't want anyone to die! ," Rhodey yelled at the last word, hoping to get it through to Osborn.
"Wow. You know simple's the right word, Human Tank. It really fits you. Straight-forward, blunt, to the point," Osborn rolled his eyes.
"Listen, I don't know what your game is-"
"No, you listen," Osborn's face suddenly grew more strict, his eyes drilling into Rhodey's, "Unless you suddenly picked up a red, white, and blue shield, I don't recall you being the boss of this new team, so don't act like these little threats of yours are gonna get to me. You do your job and I'll do mine. Kapeesh, sweetcheeks?"
"...Just stay away from the kid?"
"What? Take a note from you and the rest of your team like you did to him with Europe?", Osborn rose an eyebrow, "Yeah, unlike you people, I don't leave my teammates to dry."
"That's not what happened," Rhodes argued.
The businessman scoffed, "Spoken with the confidence of a truthful man. See, you all either treat this kid like an expendable soldier or a puppy that can be kicked around. Never enough coddling but never enough independence. What's a team without trust, Colonel?"
With a little chuckle, Osborn walked back into the building, leaving a fuming Rhodey to grip at the railings of the balcony.
However, what they didn't notice was the small spider drone hiding underneath the platform, recording the audio and broadcasting it directly to its owner.
…
Peter sat on the roof of a building, the argument between the two heroes being played from his right web-shooter.
He lifted his wrist down as he saw the drone appear before him, reattaching itself to his chest.
The kid sighed as he tried to ignore what he heard. As hard as it was deciding if he should trust Osborn or not, he was even more confused about how he should feel about the Avengers and Europe.
Part of him hated to say it but the more Osborn brought up Europe, the more he started to see how the other Avengers looked at him: a kid that was only useful to them when they decided he was.
As he started to rise onto his feet, preparing for another swing, Peter felt the hairs on his back stand up straight.
Before he could even react, a large clawed hand grabbed the back of his throat and starting to squeeze tightly, the hero feeling his lungs begging for air.
"Now, where did we leave off?," chuckled the Head Goblin.
…
Where the battle took place was where several Wakandan ships were hovering, each one having bodies carried inside. Some of the vessels were taking in fallen Wakandans, preparing them to receive a proper funeral. Others were being loaded up with the Kree who were killed in action, preparing to house them in a secure location until the Wakandans figured out what to do with them.
Carol overlooked the process, aiding the citizens in lifting the many corpses inside. She was on the verge of throwing up. Not from the stench or from the fact that she was holding a dead soldier, but from the fact that there were so many of them.
She had never seen any tactics like this used by the Kree or most other aliens. The only species she knew that did things like this were the Chitauri, which would explain why they went extinct.
The Kree have done many awful things, but this...This was a new low that they've sunk to. And one that Yon-Rogg would pay for.
Behind her, one of the other heroes from earlier, Bucky Barnes, walked towards her, a blank expression on his face, "Yeah. It never gets any easier to look at."
Carol shook her head, "You know, I've seen a lot of death and despair before out in space...but something like this…"
Barnes nodded somberly, "I don't think we got properly introduced. James Barnes. Friends call me Bucky."
"And you let them?", Carol couldn't help but let out a small giggle.
"Eh. There are enough Jameses in the world. Could be a worse nickname," the ex-soldier shrugged.
The captain gave a quick nod to the side in agreement, "Carol Danvers."
"The glowing woman who blew up that purple alien's ship?"
"The very one."
"Damn. What I would give to pull off something like that," Bucky sighed, "So, you know these guys?"
Carol nodded, a sad look in her eyes, "I used to be controlled by the Kree. After one of them nearly killed me, they wiped my mind. Forced me to serve their every command without question. To forget about my past life. It was...horrible."
A look of empathy covered Bucky's face, his eyes turning to the ground as though horrid thoughts were coming back to him, "Would you believe me if I said I actually understand?"
Carol gave him a puzzled look, clearly asking the man to explain further.
"I used to be a soldier. One moment, I'm in the middle of a mission. Next moment, I'm falling to my death," Bucky spoke in an almost-sorrowful tone, as though it pained him to look back, "When I woke up, I wasn't Sergeant Bucky Barnes anymore. I was just the Winter Soldier. A weapon. The monsters who brainwashed me lied to me...they're the ones who did this to me."
He lifted up his metal arm, displaying it to Carol. The ex-pilot listened closely, fully engaged in what Barnes was saying.
"Eventually, I broke free. Got at least some of my memories back," Barnes sighed deeply, his eyes practically burning a hole in the ground, "But...I did a lot of bad things. Things I know that I'll never be forgiven for."
"...I'm sorry," Carol spoke in a quiet voice, her eyes filled with sympathy.
"Thanks, I...I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for Steve, T'Challa, and Sam", Bucky shrugged.
"Yeah. T'Challa's a good man. I didn't know Rogers super-well, but he was cool."
"And Sam?", Bucky asked.
Carol scoffed, "Sam...I don't know. I mean, I don't get it. He seems like he's done a lot of good work before, but now, it's like he doesn't know what he's doing."
"I mean, can you blame him?", Bucky chuckled a little, "Sam's...a jackass, that's true, but this is his first time actually leading a team. Not only that but now, he's living up to Steve's legacy."
"What is exactly is the deal with being Captain America?", Carol asked.
"Hell if I know. Every time I think of Steve, I just see him as the short kid from Brooklyn, but everybody else...He was their hero. The man everyone looked up to," he explained, "Sam was there for him when I wasn't. He followed his every order, backed him up in every mission. Outside of me and...and Nat...I think Sam was his closest friend. Now, the world's looking for someone to carry the shield and for better or for worse, Steve chose Sam for the job. All Sam wants is a chance to show he's worthy."
Carol thought over the ex-assassin's words, thinking back to her time with Dr. Lawson. She may not have had all of her memories, but she remembered looking up to her, wanting to make the doctor's dreams of peace become a reality. While most people didn't know of the good Mar-Vell did, everyone on this planet knew Rogers.
"Just understand that. Please," Bucky requested before heading out to help carry away the bodies, leaving Carol to stare out at the battlefield in deep thought.
...
"Oh. Oh no, I don't feel so good," Scott mumbled, holding his gut, "I think...I think I'm gonna-"
Suddenly, a bunch of playing cards appeared to shoot out of his mouth, earning a loud laugh from the Wakandan children watching him. While much of the marketplace surrounding the battlegrounds were destroyed, Scott took on the responsibility of alleviating the citizens gathering nearby.
The ex-con chuckled watching the kids be entertained by his jokes, being reminded of his days playing with his own daughter, "Now, if you liked that one, you're gonna love this-!"
A loud gasp came from the crowd, the civilians suddenly cheering.
"Now, now! I haven't even started yet!", Scott laughed.
The Ant-Man slowly heard the sound of embers crackling. He turned to see a portal open up from behind him, Strange and Hope walking out of it. Immediately, the crowd cheered for Strange, amazed by the spectacle.
Scott sighed, a bit miffed to have his thunder stolen, "Well, there goes my five minutes of fame."
"Clean-up going alright?", Strange asked, his face appearing hollow and tired.
"Yeah, so far. I just figured that everybody was freaking out and scared, so I decided to show 'em a few tricks!", Scott grinned.
One of the kids rushed forward towards Strange, a gleeful look on his face, "Excuse me, sir, are you a wizard like Mr. Lang?"
"Are you his apprentice?", another young audience member asked.
While Scott and Hope snickered, Strange stared at the kids with the most deadpan expression, "You know what? I'm done. I'm walking off now."
As the sorcerer did just that, Scott looked over to the children, "Alright, everyone! Show's over for now! Gotta have a quick word with my partner over here!"
"Awwww!", all the children yelled with disappointment.
"Don't worry! I'll come back once I'm finished up here!", Scott calmed down the group, who slowly dispersed and took off.
Hope had a humored look on her face, "So, it looks like you've got yourself a bit of an audience."
"Yeah, well, unlike certain people, they appreciate my card tricks!", the Ant-Man sarcastically spoke, collecting his playing cards off of the floor.
"Scott, I forgot to clap once. You gotta let it go", Hope bluntly pointed out, clearly having heard this excuse again and again.
"Uh-huh. So, the device worked! It actually took down those goblin guys!", Scott threw his hands into the air with pride, "I was thinking I could get another look at that thing. Maybe we could upgrade it to take down those giant robots from earlier!"
"Right, um, about that," the Wasp looked around awkwardly, "Wilson and Strange asked for Shuri and I to be the ones to handle that."
Scott paused, stopping his card-shuffling, "Oh. Well, I can always assist! I mean, I think I've got a couple of ideas for-"
Hope sighed, "Scott, I...I don't know if…"
The ex-con's joyful face dropped slowly into a frown, "Oh."
"Look, it's not that we don't think you can do it-"
"You just think I'll end up screwing it up," Scott finished the statement, his eyes dropping to the ground.
Hope, clearly unhappy with this decision, tried to explain, "That's not what we think. It's just that we've only got a little bit of time left. For all we know, the Kree are gonna strike again soon and if there any setbacks-"
"It's cool. I-I get it," Lang half-heartedly smiled, slowly stepping away, "I'll see you around. Just gonna head out."
"Scott," Hope tried reaching out to her partner.
As the ex-criminal walked off into the crowd of Wakandans, the scientist could only stand there, regretful and feeling guilty. She knew Scott was capable, she's seen him do so much, but could she really blame the others for doubting him?
…
Valkyrie used her strength to lift up the destroyed planks of a ruined market. She placed the wreckage onto a floating hover-cart beside her. Next to her, T'Challa was speaking with the store owner, an apologetic look on his face.
"We will make sure your store shall be repaired within the next two weeks. I swear this to you," T'Challa promised.
The citizen bowed to him but it was clear that they weren't putting much stock in his words.
"Let's move it, Panther," Valkyrie called out.
The two monarchs proceeded forwards, the Asgardian pushing the cart and T'Challa speaking with anyone needing aid.
"You realize there is no need to push it, right?", T'Challa asked.
"Oh, now, you decide to tell me," Brunnhilde rolled her eyes, releasing her grip on the hovercraft, "You really think you can fix all of this in two weeks?"
T'Challa explained, "This is not the first time Wakanda has suffered major damage. Our vibranium provides us with many resources to rebuild this."
Valkyrie sighed, "None of this would've happened if we had just handed over that blasted metal. Pointless to even wait for a counter-argument to be made."
"While Captain Danvers's decision was...reckless, she was right in that handing the vibranium over wasn't the perfect move."
"Oh please. That glowing lunatic will get us all burned to a crisp soon enough."
"What is your history with the Kree, if I may ask?"
Valkyrie stopped in her tracks, lost in her own thoughts, "...I've seen the blue buggers in action. They attacked a world that Odin had his eyes on, hoping to strike up an alliance. The first time the old bastard turned to an alliance instead of an invasion."
T'Challa listened closely, the topic of colonization and imperialism being one he had familiarity with.
"A horde of those bastards appeared, hoping to add another planet to their empire. The king sent the Valkyries out to combat them. Figured, 'Hey, we've taken on worse. What could these worms do to us?'"
She paused, clearly trying to push the memories out of her head, "That planet, it had the same metal your homeland has."
"Vibranium?", the Panther looked up with surprise, the idea of other worlds having the substance still amazing him.
The warrior nodded, "It was a simple decision. Hand over the planet or be killed...You can guess what we chose."
T'Challa eyed her with sympathy, understanding how the loss of comrades, family, could affect one's spirit.
"I am sorry," T'Challa stated, "But is Danvers truly to blame for any of this?"
"Excuse me?"
"It is no secret you two have been feuding since the team was formed. I know it is not my place, but we are facing a grave threat, one that requires all of us to be united. Your animosity towards her, even after learning that she was brainwashed by the Kree, it's unnecessary."
Brunnhilde's mind was racing. Yes, this woman had nothing to do with what happened to her friends and she appeared to hate the Kree as much, if not more than the rest of this so-called team. However, that same hatred and her reckless behavior was going to get them all killed.
She sighed, "...You're right."
"Really?", the Wakandan said, surprised.
"It's not your place to think of this," the Valkyrie quickly added, grabbing the cart and pushing it forward.
T'Challa watched her leave, standing behind to contemplate some things.
"Yeah, believe me. You'll get used to her soon enough."
The king turned to see Stephen Strange appear, his bearded, stoic face eyeing the alien.
T'Challa let out a small chuckle, "That implies I'll be staying long enough to get used to any of this."
"What do you mean by that?", Stephen asked, squinting his eyes in confusion.
"I have been wondering if agreeing to this was the right choice to make," T'Challa admitted, "I believed that as an Avenger, I could protect the people I love. Perhaps even inspire hope as everyone has been talking about."
"Yes, common dream amongst everyone putting on a suit these days," Strange joked in his traditional straight-forward demeanor.
"But after today...My people wish for me to choose between being a king and being an Avenger," the Wakandan explained, "You are a man with great power and a high ranking. How do you manage?"
"Honestly? Barely. This is actually a temporary position until they find someone actually worthy of the title of Sorcerer Supreme."
"And you don't see yourself as worthy?"
Strange stared at T'Challa for a moment, turning his head to the dirt, "There are far greater men than myself. And I'm not just talking about other sorcerers."
The king recognized what the doctor was referring to, "You never told us what exactly happened with Stark. I know you traded the Time Stone for his life and that you feel a degree of guilt for some reason-"
"I'd rather not talk about that," Strange brushed the question away, the sudden shiver of his fingers not going unnoticed by the king, "The point is that this team, as...insane as it is, it needs a man of honor. Someone with a clear moral compass, guidelines."
T'Challa laughed without any humor or joy, "I don't know if I have that anymore these days."
Strange viewed his ally almost with empathy. Almost as though on some level, the doctor could relate to the ruler. However, rather than ask any further, he simply said, "I was wondering if I could take a look at those injured in the attack? I know you already have some of the best doctors in the world, but-"
"Of course. I'm assuming you know healing spells?"
"Nope. Just whatever thousands of dollars spent on med school taught me."
The two shared a laugh, Strange surprised to feel a genuine laugh escape his mouth after so long.
…
Sam sat on top of one of the walls of the Citadel. In his hands was the shield, his sullen reflection staring back at him in red, white, and blue. He sighed, letting the object lay in his lap, his head dropping down.
From behind him arrived Osborn, now wearing his patriotic armor, "What is it with heroes and brooding?"
"Osborn," Sam dully said, clearly not in the mood.
"What's the haps, Cap? Why the long face? We won, didn't we?"
"Barely. You see the marketplace? I just got back from there. Wakanda's not exactly our biggest fans at the moment," Sam pointed out.
"Oh, come on. We did good! We scared off those aliens. We're not dead. This could've gone a whole lot worse."
"Yeah, it would've. If not for you," Wilson shrugged.
"Oh, no doubt. But you guys did great!", Osborn congratulated the man.
"Did we? Did we really? We could've formed a united front from the get-go. Plan ahead before shit went down", Sam sighed, "It's what Steve would've done."
"Ah, yes. The prodigal mentor."
"Steve was not my mentor, let's get that straight," Sam glared at the billionaire.
"Right. Yet you're standing here dressed in his old uniform. 2014 design, SHIELD-made, right?"
"Go to hell."
"Rather not," Osborn chuckled before asking, "Why did you follow him?"
Sam exhaled, shaking his head, "Steve...He didn't have any doubt. He saw somebody in trouble, he saw something go down, he didn't fall to the ground. He stood like a tree and told the world, 'No, you move.'"
Osborn looked as though he genuinely was hanging onto each word the Falcon was saying, "Interesting. I never had the honor of meeting Captain Rogers, but I hear he was a great man."
Sam nodded, "Yeah."
After a second of contemplation, Osborn continued, "I believe the world needs someone to look up to. Someone who can live up to the legacy that Rogers and Stark left. Somebody with confidence and power. That's part of why I put on the armor."
"What, for glory?"
"To show the world that someone out there is going to protect them. No matter what comes at them. The world wants an Iron Man and a Captain America, might as well go all the way, right?"
While Sam didn't distrust the Iron Patriot to the same extent as Rhodey, he couldn't say he fully understood the man's intentions. However, anyone willing to let themselves die in an explosion, knowing that they probably wouldn't have survived the outcome must have some heroism inside of them.
Maybe the type of heroism needed to carry a shield.
"Look, I...I know none of you really...like me. I get it. I'm an acquired taste. Rare flavor," Osborn admitted, "But I just want to do what I can. To leave a mark on this world that's not just my company name. You get me?"
Sam faltered, seeing the sincerity the billionaire was displaying and understanding what he was trying to say, "I do. Weirdly enough, I do."
"Good," Osborn nodded, "Nice to know I'm not alone on this."
Sam slowly stood up, stretching before jumping off of the wall, his winged body gliding across the night.
"Hm. Maybe I should add wings to the suit," Norman mused.
He looked down and realized something was left by Sam on the floor: the shield.
"Oh boy, he really needs to take better care of his belongings", he scoffed.
Suddenly, an alert came from his gauntlet, a loud beeping noise being heard.
"What the-?", he looked at the alert and saw that it was sent from Peter, "What could this be about?"
He pushed a button on his wrist and the voice of Peter Parker screamed out, clearly panicked, "GUYS! I NEED BACK-UP! THE HEAD GOBLIN'S TRYING TO KILL ME! SOMEONE HELP, PLEASE!"
…
Peter darted across the rooftops, trying to send his distress call to anyone who would listen, but for someone reason, no one was picking up, "Crap, crap, crap!"
Right before he could leap off one of the buildings, the devilish creature suddenly hovered in front of him, claws out and ready for shredding, "Where you going, kiddo?! Fun's just about to start!"
The teen shot his webbing directly at the Goblin's face, but it just spun around, the strands missing him. The menace lifted up a flaming bomb and tossed right at the kid's feet.
Peter launched himself into the air and fired strands at the hoverboard, pulling hard and letting himself be propelled forwards like a rock in a slingshot. With his legs stretched out, he slammed his feet right into the Goblin's chest.
As the two plummeted down from the high building, Peter landed as many blows on the things face as he could. However, before he could strike another punch, he started feeling his Peter-Tingle.
From behind him, the glider shot forwards, its pointed ends aiming right for Parker's shoulder-blades.
Right before he could be impaled, Peter grabbed the glider and used it to push himself up, flipping backward. The hovercraft instead returned to its rightful place: under the Goblin's feet.
"Now, this is more like it!", its sharp fangs glinted.
Peter landed on the side of the building, his brown eyes wide with fear, "What do you even want with me?! Why are you coming after me?!"
With a snicker, the creature answered, "What can I say? I like you, sport! Everyone else here's a dime in a dozen, but you? You're something else, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Peter replied, "I'm the goddamn Spider-Man."
He pushed himself right off the building and fired some web-bullets at the engines of the hovercraft. The glider began to shake and shudder, sparks beginning to fly off of it. Right before the Head Goblin could react, Peter's elbow wrapped around his body and pulled him off of the glider.
The two soared through the air before Peter landed a quick kick on the beast, sending them downwards to crash onto a roof.
Before it could get back up all the way, the Goblin felt a rain of webbing flying down at him, trying to force him to the ground. He looked up to see Peter swing around columns and satellite dishes in order to go after the fiend.
The thing continuously tried to escape the hero's line of fire, but each web fired slowly began to force him down.
"Come on now!", the Goblin snarled, chucking bombs left and right and firing lasers from its fingers.
Each explosive thrown was webbed up by Peter and either tossed into the sky or used to defend himself from each laser blast.
The boy landed in front of the Goblin, landing a spin-kick across the creature's face. He fired a strand at the villain's eyes but instead, it stuck to its free wrist, which was lifted up in order to block the attack.
Before the Goblin could pull out another bomb, Peter shot the webbing so the freak's free arm was stuck to his chest.
"Wow. You know, you really need a better gimmick," Peter panted, a little tired, "I mean, goblins are cool and all, but there's gotta be something better. Like trolls! Ooh, or gremlins! Gremlins are awesome!"
"What can I say? I had an idea and I went for it!," the creature giggled, "I mean, after all...You've gotta shoot your shot."
With his webbed-up hand, the Goblin fired a blast from its finger, aiming directly for the boy's face.
Peter's senses picked up on it too late before it was about to destroy his head, what he believed was his last thought being, Well, can't say this isn't how I expected to die .
However, instead of turning his face to cinders, something flew right in between the blast and Peter and deflected the Goblin's attack. In a blur of red and white, something began crashing around the rooftop and flying back to where it came from.
"I've got your back, kid," Osborn spoke from under his faceplate.
The Goblin and Spidey looked over to see the Iron Patriot hovering next to them.
And covering his left arm was the iconic shield.
The Green Goblin giggled before ripping apart the webbing, itching to tear apart the two heroes.
"Did the others get my message?!", Peter asked.
"They should have!", the boy's elder nodded, "Come on. Let's teach Trick-Or-Treat here why the bad guys run from the Avengers!"
The two began ganging up on the villain, with Osborn throwing the shield around like a pro. While the Goblin swatted it away with a quick swipe, Osborn fired a quick repulsor blast at the shield's center while it was in mid-air, the blast not only bouncing off and hitting the Goblin from behind but also creating a loud enough ringing noise to blow the villain to the ground.
Peter shot a strand and webbed the shield up, swinging it around like a flail and letting it crash into the side of the villain's face. The teen landed on his hands and fired his webs onto the Goblin's hands, sticking them to the concrete.
As he flipped back onto his feet, Parker handed the shield back to his ally, a proud look on his injured face, "So, we're not dead."
The monster began cackling maniacally, "You think that's enough to stop-?!"
"Hang on. Wait. I'm gonna let you finish," Osborn interrupted, clearly not caring, "I just need to do one thing."
He lifted the shield up with one hand and aimed his palm at the back of the weapon, charging his repulsor beam up.
"May wanna cover your ears, bud," Osborn warned.
With a carefully aimed blast at the center of the shield's back, Osborn fired, sending the shield forward at an amazing speed and sending it smashing right into the Goblin's face. It ricocheted off of the other end of the rooftop and crashed into the villain's back, slamming the front of their body right into the ground.
The defensive weapon returned to Osborn, whose faceplate was now off, revealing a look of complete shock and awe. Peter shared the same look of amazement as the two stared at the shield before facing one another.
"That. Was. AWESOME!", Peter exclaimed, a smile forming.
Osborn couldn't help but laugh in surprise, "You think Wilson would let me keep this?!"
As though on cue, Sam landed behind them, clearly astonished, "Holy shit."
"Hey, boss-man! You left this back at the palace! Really got to make sure you don't lose this," Osborn grinned, handing the shield back to Sam.
"How...How do you even know how to throw it?", Sam asked, shocked after seeing that display.
"I mean, was it that hard?", he laughed, "I don't know. Just felt right."
Some of the other heroes arrived as well, with Carol landing down with Bucky in her arms and Rhodey appearing in his armor with T'Challa in one arm. Strange floated down, a look of fear in his eyes.
"What is going on?!", T'Challa yelled.
"We saw the explosions all the way from the battlefield!", Bucky yelled.
"Why didn't any of you call this in?!", Strange asked in an angered tone.
"I did," Peter whispered.
"What?", Carol asked.
"I did!", the teen repeated, now in a louder voice, "I sent a distress call to all of you! I told you that the Goblin was coming after me! That he was trying to kill me! WHERE WERE YOU?!"
"What are you-?! None of us got a distress message!", Sam shouted back, lifting up the small screen attached to the glove on his wrist, "There's nothing here that says-!"
He paused as he saw a message from fifteen minutes ago: an alert from Peter.
Each of the heroes with tech looked down, Carol and Rhodey staring at their gauntlets and T'Challa viewing his kimoyo beads. Each one had a message from Peter. All of their faces paled as they realized that Peter was right.
Sam stuttered, "This...This shouldn't be right, I...I didn't see anything-"
"How? I saw it the moment it was sent out," Osborn pointed out.
"And you didn't tell us?!", Rhodes yelled.
"I figured you guys had to have gotten the message first! I mean, you're his friends, right?!"
The question hung over everyone there, all of them avoiding Peter's distraught, bruised face. The kid couldn't believe this. He cried out for help and what did his "teammates" do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
A shrill laugh pierced the air as everyone's attention turned to the trapped Goblin. It was on its knees, facing downwards as each of its limbs were stretched out by the webbing. Its face wasn't visible to the heroes, but they could see blood dripping to the ground from its nose…
And the being's mask shattered in half on the ground.
Slowly, Peter moved to the fallen villain, Osborn aiming his repulsor over the boy's shoulder in case something went wrong.
With a trembling hand, he reached out to the cackling figure and pulled the purple hood off of their face, hoping to finally understand who was leading all of these attacks.
Peter's eyes widened, pure shock, terror, and horror suddenly slicing away at him.
Their usually-combed, black hair was now in a shaggy mess, pieces of debris stuck in between each strand. His eyes were bulging, practically begging to pop out their skulls, tears streaming down his face. Whether out of laughter or fear, Peter couldn't tell. His pupils, once a dull-color, were now flashing bright green, shining so vividly that they almost looked inhuman.
His flesh was tinged with emerald veins, sweat beading down almost corpse-like skin as his bruised eye was displayed clearly.
His smile, once cheerful and innocent, was now contorted, stretched across his face like an evil clown. Even his teeth looked like they were sharper. His laugh was no longer joyous and kind, but rather mocking and shrill, as though he found everything amusing.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Norman lifted down his arm, a look of pure horror on his face, "Oh God."
Peter felt the tears fall down his own cheeks. Felt his heart stop as though he had died and gone to Hell. He tried to find the words, something to clear this all up. Maybe a plea or a prayer.
But all that escaped from his mouth was one name.
"Ned?"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"