On the monitoring instruments, two massive concave distortions converged simultaneously toward Earth's position in spacetime—twin gravitational wells pulling reality itself into catastrophic alignment.
"This has never happened before!" Shuri's voice carried genuine desperation, her usual composed demeanor cracking under the weight of unprecedented crisis.
"I can barely comprehend what I'm seeing."
One alternate Earth had been challenging enough to handle—requiring every available resource and countless moral compromises. But the simultaneous manifestation of two separate Earths meant they'd be fighting defensive wars against two entire universes at the same time.
With half their usual preparation window. Against potentially double the opposition forces.
"I strongly recommend deploying annihilation weapons immediately," Shuri said, raising her hand in a formal vote.
Using the antimatter bombs directly represented the most time-efficient and resource-conservative approach available. Press two buttons, and in less than one second, both alternate Earths would be instantaneously obliterated. The populations on those doomed planets would die painlessly—vaporized before their nervous systems could even register what was happening.
Mercy through instantaneous extinction.
"Absolutely not!" T'Challa refused without hesitation, his voice sharp with conviction.
He still wanted to accomplish something during those precious eight-hour buffer windows, even though he hadn't successfully saved anyone yet. Even though every attempt had ended in failure and moral compromise.
But he remained determined to try. To preserve some fragment of their humanity.
"Don't take away our last remaining shred of conscience, young lady," Otto Octavius added gravely, his mechanical arms shifting with agitation.
"But we don't have sufficient manpower to handle simultaneous engagements..." Shuri protested, her tactical mind already calculating the impossible mathematics of the situation.
"Circumstances are different now," Tony interjected. "Reinforcements will return soon."
With the Thunderbolts' personnel restored to Earth, they wouldn't face the same desperate understaffing that had nearly killed them during the fifth collision.
Moreover, in a very real sense, Ben Parker alone possessed sufficient power to fight an entire universe. His cosmic-level capabilities fundamentally changed strategic calculations.
"However, we do need to seriously consider Shuri's proposal," Tony continued, his expression darkening. "There are two collision events now, but we may face even more simultaneously in the future. We need contingency planning for scenarios where negotiation becomes literally impossible."
He'd originally attempted deploying unmanned combat suits to make contact with alternate universes—trying to alleviate the manpower shortage through robotic proxies while minimizing human casualties on both sides.
The fourth collision had forced him to abandon that approach entirely.
Before his unmanned Iron Legion could even penetrate that universe's atmosphere, some kind of aggressive programming had seized control of every single unit. The hijacked armor had transformed into weapons calling themselves "Mapmakers," immediately turning against their creators with ruthless efficiency.
"I heard you dispatched Loki and Thor to handle the Time Variance Authority situation," Tony said, shifting topics. "But given current circumstances, that initiative seems to be going poorly."
"It's... complicated," Ben sighed, frustration evident in his voice. "And I genuinely don't know their current status. Communications have been completely severed."
The situation with Loki and Thor was considerably worse than anyone realized.
Beyond Time
Beyond the conventional universe's boundaries, in a realm existing outside normal spacetime, lay a wasteland of discarded chronologies.
The Void—where the Time Variance Authority eliminated temporal criminals and pruned unwanted timeline branches. Essentially their equivalent of a cosmic garbage dump.
Time itself seemed to have solidified here into something almost physical. Loki and Thor had been wandering this desolate landscape for an indeterminate period—possibly days, possibly years. Temporal measurement became meaningless when you existed outside time's conventional flow.
"Isn't there any method to escape this godforsaken wasteland?!" Loki snarled, viciously kicking aside a rusted metal canister that had been decaying for potentially millennia.
They'd been extraordinarily unlucky. Stepped through the dimensional portal and immediately found themselves imprisoned in the TVA's dumping ground. Naturally, escape had proven impossible.
If Ben were here instead, he might have been able to reverse-engineer the pruning mechanism and force open a passage back to normal reality.
"There's nothing we can accomplish—the Bifrost doesn't function in this location," Thor said, frowning deeply with frustration.
The Rainbow Bridge could only traverse between the Nine Realms by utilizing the World Tree as a dimensional anchor. And the World Tree was the universe itself—its root system comprising the fundamental structure of reality.
Outside that specific universal framework, the Bifrost possessed zero functionality whatsoever.
"Looks like we're trapped here for the remainder of our existence!" Loki's mood had deteriorated to genuinely murderous levels.
He glanced at the Space Stone in his palm. The Infinity Stone had become completely useless after arriving in the Void—its reality-warping capabilities apparently requiring an actual reality to warp. He resisted the overwhelming urge to throw it away or punt it into the wasteland's endless horizon.
"Let's keep moving," Loki said, forcing pragmatism over despair. "There are food wrappers here—relatively recent ones. That means people are surviving in this environment. If we find them, maybe we find answers."
He turned to continue their trek and suddenly froze mid-step.
The space directly ahead was distorting—reality folding like origami. A thin man wearing a pristine white lab coat and leaning casually on an elegant walking stick emerged from the dimensional fold.
"Excellent. I've finally located you two," the stranger said, sounding genuinely relieved.
"Who are you?" Thor immediately demanded, Mjolnir spinning threateningly in his grip, ready to be hurled at the slightest provocation.
"There's no need for violence. I exist outside conventional time," the man said with complete calm. "You may call me Dr. Paradox."
Before he could elaborate further, a dagger suddenly pierced his abdomen from behind—the blade emerging through his stomach in a spray of crimson.
Loki, who'd been standing beside Thor mere moments ago, had vanished via illusion and repositioned himself for the perfect backstab. He withdrew the blood-slicked blade with a contemptuous sneer.
"People from 'outside time' don't seem particularly impressive. I am the greatest sorcerer in the Nine Realms, after all."
"Loki!" Thor rebuked him sharply for attacking before they'd even assessed the situation.
Loki glanced dismissively at the "corpse" of Dr. Paradox. "I was simply testing his claims. If he genuinely exists outside temporal flow, then—"
"Then it would be impossible to permanently kill me, yes," Dr. Paradox completed the sentence.
He casually strolled out of a nearby spatial fold as though taking an evening walk, while his original "corpse" simply vanished—erased from causality.
"Illusion magic?" Loki asked, encountering what he assumed was a fellow practitioner of deception.
"Not illusion at all. I merely reversed my personal timeline to a point before you stabbed me," Dr. Paradox explained patiently. "Please refrain from repeating that experiment. Being stabbed in the kidney is still quite painful despite my temporal abilities. Though of course, it simultaneously cannot hurt since I can simply rewind past the injury."
He smiled slightly. "Hence the name—Paradox."
"Additionally, I'm an acquaintance of your supervisor, Ben Parker. Loosely speaking, at least."
"Really? I've never seen you before," Loki said skeptically, his natural paranoia refusing to accept convenient claims at face value.
"That's because I've never visited your specific universe," Paradox replied. "And Ben possesses a rather... unwelcoming friend residing within his Omnitrix who doesn't appreciate my presence. We had philosophical disagreements."
He clearly didn't want to elaborate on that particular history. "Regardless, I can extract you from this realm. However, I cannot assist with whatever challenges await afterward. You'll need to manage those independently. Good luck."
Dr. Paradox struck his cane against the ground with a sharp crack. A distorted passage immediately manifested in spacetime behind him—a swirling vortex of chronological possibility.
"Oh, one more thing," he added, as though suddenly remembering. "If you manage to contact Ben Parker, ensure you inform him that Maltruant and the Phantom have formed an alliance. Maltruant has successfully reclaimed all of his fragments, destabilized countless universes through temporal manipulation, and is currently gathering his historical rivals for some grand scheme."
Thor raised his communicator device, preparing to transmit that critical intelligence immediately.
Paradox preemptively interrupted: "Can't establish connection? Yes, I suspected as much. Perhaps discuss it another time when you've returned to conventional reality."
Thor felt like he had a fishbone lodged in his throat—the frustration of possessing vital intelligence with no method to deliver it.
Let's redirect our attention back to the primary universe.
Wakanda's defensive command center hummed with frantic activity.
The shadows of two alternate Earths hung like spectral threats above the protective dome—impossible, terrifying, undeniable.
The Thunderbolts members had received zero rest whatsoever. Having just returned from their space operations, they'd been immediately transported to Wakanda to prepare for interdimensional warfare against two complete universes.
"A collision crisis? This is genuinely my first time hearing about such events," Peter said, frowning deeply as he processed the briefing.
He'd already learned that Tony, Otto, T'Challa, and others—had destroyed five alternate Earths, killing countless billions of humans across those doomed realities.
His kind heart found the concept almost impossible to accept, even understanding the terrible necessity.
"So you'd better convince those populations to evacuate their planets voluntarily," Tony said, raising an eyebrow with dark humor. "That way, nobody needs to suffer."
The fundamental rule of this nightmare game was binary: either you die, or I die. If you wasted energy pitying the opposition, they'd exploit that compassion to kill you first.
Mercy was a luxury extinct civilizations couldn't afford.
"But..." Harry asked with genuine confusion, "if destroying one Earth allows another to survive, that's a fifty percent survival rate, correct? What happens when there's a third Earth involved simultaneously?"
"Get this absolutely clear, kid," Otto said, stepping forward with his mechanical arms spreading for emphasis. "It's not fifty percent probability. It's one hundred percent certainty—for us!"
"This isn't some abstract probability theory exercise we're discussing."
"Let's divide tactical assignments first," Norman interjected, cutting through the philosophical debate with military pragmatism.
He didn't particularly care about the fact that multiple Earths were manifesting. He understood his responsibility with crystalline clarity: protect the ground beneath their feet. Their Earth. Their universe.
Honestly, if everyone hadn't collectively agreed to attempt saving lives where possible, Norman would have simply pressed the annihilation weapon activation button immediately. No hesitation, no moral anguish.
Press button. Planet explodes. Problem solved.
As far as those alternate populations would know, a random meteorite had suddenly vaporized their world. They'd die instantly, painlessly, without even understanding what had killed them.
Everyone would be living their fullest lives right up until the final microsecond.
Norman didn't care where they originated from or what their civilizations had accomplished.
Say hello to my annihilation bomb, he thought grimly, already calculating optimal firing solutions.