Chapter 27: Eleven Months to Invasion
The command center hummed with quiet efficiency.
Justin stood before a wall of holographic displays, each one showing a different aspect of the empire he'd built in less than two years. Financial projections. Personnel rosters. Technology development timelines. Resource allocation. Everything organized with brutal precision because that's what you did when you knew the end was coming.
"AEGIS," Justin said. "Full status report. Everything."
"Acknowledged, sir. Initiating comprehensive assessment."
The displays shifted, reorganizing into categories that made Justin's chest tighten with something between pride and terror. He'd done so much. Built so much. Changed so much.
Was it enough?
"Hammer Industries status," AEGIS began. "Current market valuation: $48.7 billion. Ranking: Third-largest defense contractor in the United States. Government contracts totaling $8.7 billion over five years, with additional private sector agreements. Stock price up 340% since your restructuring. Wall Street consensus: Legitimate competitor to Stark Industries."
Justin nodded. The company that had been a joke was now a powerhouse.
"PROMETHEUS Division: Twelve exotic alloys developed, including proto-magical materials from Asgardian research. Prometheus Steel in mass production. Advanced prosthetics program exceeding military expectations. Mystically-reactive materials showing promise but requiring further study. Chief Technology Officer Maya Vasquez rates division performance as excellent with concerns about pace of development."
"She always has concerns," Justin muttered.
"ATHENA Division: AEGIS AI systems operational across all company networks. Pattern recognition capabilities exceed JARVIS in 73% of test scenarios. Cyber-warfare readiness rated exceptional. Notable achievement: Successfully predicted and prevented fourteen corporate espionage attempts in last quarter. Self-assessment: I am quite proud of this record."
Justin smiled despite himself. "You should be."
"ARES Division: Fifteen enhanced operatives with voluntary augmentation. Thirty-seven freed Black Widows in support roles, eighteen active operators, nineteen civilian integration or external placement. Commander: Yelena Belova. Field readiness: Exceptional. Casualty rate in operations: Zero. Morale: High. Notable concern: General Ross has initiated seventeen intelligence inquiries regarding division personnel."
"Ross is persistent," Justin said. "What about the networks?"
"Ghost Network: Five hundred twenty-three assets globally, spanning defense contractors, government offices, private military companies, and research institutions. Intelligence quality: Excellent. Security: No compromised assets detected. Cost-effectiveness: Exceeds conventional intelligence gathering by factor of four."
"Widow Network: Thirty-seven freed operatives maintaining voluntary contact. Eighteen in active employment with Hammer Industries. Nineteen pursuing civilian lives or external agency work. Intelligence value: Exceptional due to high-level placement and personal motivation. Threat to operations: Minimal. Personal loyalty to you, sir, appears genuine rather than obligatory."
Justin felt something warm in his chest. They'd chosen to help. Weren't forced. Weren't coerced. Just... chose.
"Arc reactor development: Vanko-type reactors entering mass production. Efficiency: 85% of Stark's new-element design at 10% of manufacturing cost. Market impact: Significant. Stark Industries has initiated six new R&D programs in response. Competitive analysis suggests healthy rivalry driving innovation for both companies."
"Prometheus Armor program: Military units deployed and operational. Performance reviews: Exceptional. Contract expansions: Pending. Personal combat variant: Completed and tested. Recommendation: Requires one additional field test under simulated Chitauri combat conditions."
"Personal vault status," AEGIS continued, and Justin's attention sharpened. "Three powers stored: pyrokinesis, regeneration factor, enhanced reflexes. One power active: regeneration factor. Vault capacity: Fifteen total, twelve slots remaining empty. Recommendation: Accelerate acquisition if possible."
Justin looked at his arms. The void marks were visible even through his sleeves now, geometric patterns that pulsed with his heartbeat. "What's my corruption level?"
"Current void corruption: 9%. Projected timeline to critical levels: Eleven to thirteen months at current usage rate. Note: Rate has been accelerating with recent transmutation work. Recommendation: Reduce power usage or accept abbreviated timeline."
"Can't reduce usage. Not with what's coming."
"Then we proceed with abbreviated timeline." AEGIS's tone carried something that might have been concern. "Sir, shall I continue with gap analysis?"
"Yes."
The displays shifted, showing problems instead of successes. Justin's gut clenched.
"Critical gaps identified," AEGIS said. "Gap One: Limited counter to magical threats. Loki's scepter will operate on principles we don't fully understand. Asgardian magic remains beyond our capability to neutralize. Recommendation: Establish contact with mystical community before invasion. Status: No progress."
"Gap Two: No effective solutions for Leviathan-class targets. Current weapons insufficient for flying organic warships of that scale. Recommendation: Develop city-scale anti-ship weapons. Status: In development, completion uncertain."
"Gap Three: Portal technology completely beyond current capability. Cannot prevent portal opening. Can only fight what comes through. Recommendation: Accept limitation and focus on defensive response. Status: Accepted."
"Gap Four: Avengers Initiative not fully assembled. Director Fury has not completed team formation. Without Avengers, portal closure becomes impossible. Recommendation: Trust Fury's competence. Status: Out of our control."
"Gap Five: Maximoff twins in HYDRA custody. Enhancement proceeding as predicted. Unable to locate or extract before powers manifest. Recommendation: Plan post-enhancement extraction. Status: Monitoring only."
Justin rubbed his face. So many gaps. So many things that could go wrong.
"Final assessment," AEGIS said quietly. "Probability of preventing invasion: 0%. Probability of successfully defending against invasion with current resources and expected Avengers support: 68%. Estimated civilian casualties with our intervention: 800-1,200. Estimated civilian casualties without our intervention: 4,000-6,000."
"We save three thousand lives," Justin said. "Maybe more."
"Yes, sir. But not everyone. I thought you should know that statistic."
Justin stared at the displays. Three thousand people. Three thousand families. Three thousand lives that would continue because he'd spent two years preparing for a disaster only he knew was coming.
But also eight hundred to twelve hundred who would die anyway.
"Is it enough?" he thought. "All this preparation, all this work, all these sacrifices—is it enough to justify the cost?"
He didn't have an answer.
Natasha found him still in the command center at midnight.
"You've been staring at those displays for six hours," she said.
"Has it been six hours?"
"Yes." She walked over and shut down the holographics. "Come on. You need a break."
"I need to—"
"Justin." Her voice was firm. "You need a break. The invasion will still be coming tomorrow. Tonight, you're having dinner with me. No business. No planning. Just us."
He wanted to argue. Wanted to dive back into the data, find some solution he'd missed, some way to save more lives.
But Natasha was pulling him toward the door, and Justin found he didn't have the energy to resist.
Her apartment was smaller than his penthouse, more lived-in, more human. She sat him on the couch and handed him a beer while she cooked something that smelled amazing.
"Talk to me," she said. "Not about the invasion. About what you're feeling."
Justin took a long drink. "Fear. Mostly fear."
"Of dying?"
"Of failing. Of doing all this work, making all these preparations, and still watching millions die because I missed something." He set down the beer. "I know generally what's coming. Aliens through a portal. The Avengers fighting back. But I don't know every detail. What if my interference made things worse? What if Loki adapts to the changes I made? What if the Avengers don't come together because I butterfly-effected something critical?"
Natasha brought over plates and sat beside him. "Then we adapt. That's what we do."
"You make it sound simple."
"It is simple. Not easy, but simple." She took his hand. "Justin, you've built something incredible. An organization that can respond to threats independently of SHIELD or anyone else. Technologies that will save lives. A team of people who chose to be here because they believe in you. Whatever happens when that portal opens, we'll handle it. Together."
"What if it's not enough?"
"Then it's not enough. But you'll have done everything you could. That's all anyone can ask."
Justin looked at her—this woman who'd been sent to spy on him and had instead become his partner, his confidant, his anchor. "How are you so calm about an alien invasion?"
"I'm not calm. I'm terrified." Natasha smiled. "But I trust you. You've been right about everything else. If you say aliens are coming, I believe you. And if you say we can survive it, I believe that too."
"I'm not sure we can."
"But you're preparing like we can. That's what matters." She kissed him softly. "Now eat. You've lost weight again, and I'd like my boyfriend to survive long enough for me to yell at him about proper nutrition."
"Boyfriend," Justin repeated. "That's very high school of you."
"Partner sounds too clinical. Lover sounds too dramatic. Boyfriend is simple." Natasha's eyes sparkled. "Unless you'd prefer something else?"
"No. Boyfriend works."
They ate in comfortable silence. Outside, New York hummed with life—millions of people going about their days, completely unaware of the countdown Justin could feel in his bones.
Eleven months. Less than a year. Then everything changed.
After dinner, they stood on Natasha's balcony, looking out at the city lights. Manhattan sprawled before them like a circuit board, each window a connection point in humanity's vast network.
"I can't save everyone," Justin said quietly.
"No. But you'll save thousands who would have died. That has to be enough."
"Does it?"
"It has to be. Because the alternative is doing nothing and letting everyone die." Natasha leaned against him. "You're not responsible for saving the world alone, Justin. That's what the Avengers are for. You're responsible for giving them the support they need to do their job. And you've done that. You've done more than that."
Justin pulled her close, breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth. Eleven months. He had eleven months with her. Eleven months to prepare. Eleven months to fill his vault and build his weapons and hope it was enough.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For believing in me when I sound insane. For trusting me when I can't explain how I know things. For being here."
"Where else would I be?" Natasha tilted her head up to kiss him. "Now come inside. We're not spending your last free evening before full invasion prep standing on a balcony being melodramatic."
Justin laughed despite himself. "Fair point."
They went inside. Outside, New York kept humming. And Justin tried—tried—to just exist in the moment instead of counting down to catastrophe.
It didn't quite work. But with Natasha beside him, it almost did.
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