The word hung in the air on the Helicarrier's flight deck, a chilling echo that settled over the heroes like a shroud.
War.
"We just finished a war," Tony muttered, his voice tight with exhaustion and disbelief. "Are you telling me there's another one queued up already?"
"Loki, what's going on?" Steve demanded, his expression grim.
Ben moved forward, helping the god of mischief to his feet. Loki flinched instinctively at the sight of Captain America, his eyes darting to Steve's empty hands before a fraction of the tension left his shoulders. Even so, he subtly shifted his position, putting Ben between himself and the super-soldier. He took a ragged breath, his regal composure shattered, as if struggling to organize the terrifying images running through his mind.
"It's the Chitauri," he finally managed, his voice strained. "Their War Lords… they have sworn fealty to Thanos. They detected the energy signature from the Tesseract. They are bringing their armada to Earth." He looked at them, his eyes wide with a fear he couldn't conceal. "An invasion is coming."
His panic was a palpable thing, a cold wave that washed over the deck.
"Calm down," Ben said, his tone steady and commanding, cutting through the rising anxiety. "Take a breath. How do you know this?"
"I encountered them on my journey here," Loki said, the memory making him shudder. "They were… a plague. A swarm of steel and fury, attacking anything that moved. I only escaped because of the ship Looma built. Its engines were powerful enough to outrun them…"
Ben wasn't surprised. The Chitauri were a species defined by conquest; it was right there in their leader's title. The only thing that mattered now was the timeline.
"Their fleet's speed will be considerably slower than a ship with Tetramand-engineered drives," Ben reasoned, crossing his arms. The pragmatist in him was already cutting through the fear and analyzing the data. "Where did you encounter them?"
Loki took a moment to recall the star charts in his head before giving a set of coordinates. As he processed the calculation himself, a faint blush of embarrassment colored his pale cheeks. "My apologies," he said, letting out a shaky sigh. "I… I was unnerved. Based on that trajectory, it will take the Chitauri vanguard approximately one earth year to reach this system."
"Unnerved? You looked like you were about to jump out of your skin," Tony shot back, never one to miss an opportunity for a jab. He turned to the others, a grim sort of relief on his face. "Well, it looks like we have some time to prepare for the party."
A year. It was a lifetime and no time at all. Steve felt a profound wave of weariness wash over him. For a fleeting moment, a deep and burning resentment for Nick Fury flared in his chest. None of this would be happening if S.H.I.E.L.D. had just left the Tesseract at the bottom of the ocean where he'd left it.
"What's the plan?" he asked, looking to Ben.
Ben's head was bowed in thought, his mind already churning through strategies and countermeasures. In the original timeline, the Chitauri invasion of New York had been made possible by Loki, who used the Tesseract to open a wormhole from the other side. But that required a unique understanding of the cube. Without Loki's help, the Chitauri were limited to a conventional assault through space.
Confirming their travel route and speed make this infinitely simpler.
"We'll need to construct a planetary defense grid," Ben announced, looking up. "A protective barrier powerful enough to envelop the entire Earth."
Steve's eyes lit up. "Is that even possible?" He had seen firsthand the strength of the energy shields on Primus Technologies. The idea of scaling that technology up to encompass a whole planet felt like something straight out of a science fiction novel. If Ben had been able to read his mind, he would have laughed. This is Marvel, he would have said, we passed science fiction and took a hard right into fantasy a long time ago.
"What about the power source?" Tony asked, always focused on the practicalities. "Something that big would require an astronomical amount of energy."
Ben smiled and produced the glowing blue cube. "Funny you should mention it. We just so happen to have an artifact with a virtually infinite energy supply."
Loki's eyes flickered, and he instinctively reached for the Tesseract, a lifetime of ambition and desire rising to the surface. Tony was faster, slapping his hand away with a sharp smack.
"Hey, wait, isn't that—" Loki began.
"Nope," Tony cut him off flatly. "We found this. Fished it right out of the sea."
He'd originally agreed with Ben's plan to send the Tesseract to Sakaar for safekeeping with the Plumbers, but circumstances had clearly changed. Without the cube, there was no way they could power a planetary shield.
Therefore, the Tesseract was, and always had been, the rightful property of Earth.
Loki rolled his eyes. Did this mortal truly think he wouldn't recognize one of Asgard's most sacred treasures? "By the time your primitive science deciphers how to properly harness its power, the Chitauri will have already stripped this world to the bone."
"Then you'll assist in the research," Norman Osborn decided, his voice leaving no room for argument. He didn't trust Loki, but he trusted Ben's ability to manage him. "Beyond the cube, what else do you require?"
"I'll need at least four orbital platforms to act as emitter base stations," Ben explained, sketching a quick diagram in the air with his finger. It showed the Earth at the center, bracketed by four satellites in a tetrahedral formation, creating an interlocking field of energy.
"Consider it done," Norman said with a confident smile. "The World Security Council will foot the bill." Problems that could be solved with money—especially other people's money—were hardly problems at all.
Seeing his opening, Ben decided to press his advantage. "In that case, I'll also require a fully operational space station." He wasn't about to miss the chance to get his Plumbers a government-funded orbital headquarters.
Norman didn't even blink. "I will arrange it."
Ben's grin widened. "The station's construction will require materials of the absolute highest specification. I'll need a substantial supply of vibranium."
Norman nodded. "Sure."
Ben pushed further. "And while we're at it, I'll need exclusive mining rights in Antarctica."
"Whoa, whoa, stop!" Tony finally interjected, holding up his hands. "I'm starting to seriously suspect you're abusing your authority for personal gain here! What does a private space station have to do with the defense grid? And what does that have to do with mining in Antarctica?"
"Do you even have to ask?" Maria Hill sighed from the side.
Ben just waved Tony's objection away. "Now is not the time for division, Tony. We must present a united front. And the Plumbers' orbital station will be our first line of defense against the Chitauri. We can't just hide behind a shield and pretend the universe is at peace, can we? Your armor is designed to protect you, but the weapons it carries are there to eliminate the threat."
His words struck a chord with Tony and the others. The point about ownership of the station was a minor detail in the grand scheme of things.
Tony nodded, his expression hardening with resolve. "Fine. You've got it." Passively waiting for an attack was not his style. If the Chitauri wanted war, he'd be more than happy to give them one.
With a rough plan in place, the group dispersed, each moving to tackle their assigned tasks. Since the Tesseract couldn't be sent to Sakaar, Ben tucked it safely back into his backpack. Norman immediately convened a technology team to begin designing the massive emitter satellites, before heading off to do what he was apparently best at now: shaking down the Security Council for funds.
I used to have people lining up to swindle research funds from me, he thought with a wry smile. Now the shoe is on the other foot.
"Director," Hill commented dryly as they walked, "I'm thinking we should sell ad space on the side of the Helicarriers. How does a sponsorship from Pepsi sound?"
"Let's steer clear of companies that peddle sugar water," Norman chuckled.
As they all went their separate ways, Steve remained on the deck. He knew nothing of energy barriers or orbital mechanics; his role was to stand behind his shield and charge forward. He felt utterly useless. After a moment of quiet contemplation, he decided to visit the one person who might ground him. He headed for the Primus medical wing to see Bucky.
Bucky had recently made a friend. Or, at least, something close to it.
Flash Thompson, who was also a patient in the medical wing and also suffering from memory loss, shared the quiet, sterile space with him. They weren't so much friends as two souls adrift in the same lonely boat, finding a sliver of connection in their shared predicament.
Flash's recovery had been progressing remarkably well. Though the past was a blur, his classmates had been visiting regularly, their familiar faces slowly repainting the canvas of his life. Ben came most often, of course, followed closely by Peter.
Peter would usually stop by after school, but sometimes he'd show up in the full Spider-Man suit. Even with his memory wiped, Flash hadn't forgotten he was Spider-Man's number one fan. Seeing his hero visit him in the hospital felt like the validation of a lifetime.
"Hey, Tin Arm," Flash greeted Bucky, who sat silently by the window. "I'm getting discharged soon."
"Your memory's back?" the Winter Soldier asked, his voice a low rumble. He wasn't surprised Flash was leaving. At first, he'd assumed the kid was another brainwashed Hydra asset, but he'd soon learned he was just a high school student who'd been injured protecting his classmates.
"Nah, but that's okay," Flash said with a surprising lightness, letting out a deep breath. "You gotta look forward, right? Just because the old memories are gone doesn't mean you're dead. You can always make new ones." He paused, looking at Bucky's somber profile. "You're lucky, you know. You've got a good friend."
He was talking about Steve Rogers.
"I remember him," Bucky murmured. "Captain America. He's an Avenger, like Spider-Man. Do you know the Avengers?"
"I don't deserve to be his friend," Bucky replied, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I've done… a lot of bad things."
"But he still sees you as his friend," Flash insisted gently. Seeing Bucky's despair, he leaned forward. "Look, Tin Arm, I did bad things, too. The kids who visit me? They told me I used to be a bully." A shadow of shame crossed his face before he straightened up. "You can't erase your mistakes. So you make up for them. You atone."
He looked Bucky square in the eye. "I'm gonna take a page out of Spider-Man's book. Help people where I can, do some community service, apologize to every kid I ever pushed around. Do whatever good I can, no matter how small it seems."
Bucky looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw a flicker of genuine light in the other man's eyes.
"Seriously," Flash nodded. "You just have to be willing. You know what Spider-Man told me when he came to visit?" He leaned in conspiratorially. "He said that with great power comes great responsibility. That's why he does what he does."
The words settled in the quiet room. Bucky absorbed them, a new thought taking root in the barren soil of his mind. "What if… what if they never forgive you?"
"I hurt people. I don't have the right to ask for their forgiveness, no matter how much good I do," Flash said with a raw honesty that stunned Bucky. "But I can't just give up because of that. Spending the rest of my life helping others is a hell of a lot better than just sitting around feeling sorry for myself. Being forgiven isn't the goal. Making amends is."
He offered a small, sincere smile.
"Besides, even if I hadn't done anything wrong, I should still do good things."
Flash's smile widened, full of a newfound purpose.
"Because that's what Spider-Man would do."