Chapter 51 - If we could turn back Time

Tony landed heavily on the grimy tiles of the roof of the nearest skyscraper, his balance thrown off when the repulsor in his left gauntlet briefly shorted out, before sputtering back to life again.

Having learned from his mistakes during the One Day War a year ago, Tony had made sure that he would be able to resupply in the field, switching out armor parts and reloading ammunition on the go. Still, the Arc Reactor was a highly complex piece of technology, and after six days of nearly continuous fighting, the wear and tear on his systems was starting to add up.

All that he could hope for was that McCole was succeeding at… whatever the hell he was doing on the other side of the portal, because he didn't know for how long he could keep fighting until he ran out of suits.

'He's definitely doing something, that's for sure. Actually, that's the only thing I'm sure about right now.' The scientist thought to himself, staring up at the sky in mute wonder.

Blasting through Dormammu's airborne defenders with Hyperion and Hawkeye at his back had been exhilarating.

Witnessing the beam-o-war between Hyperion and a mountain of eldritch flesh had been both amazing and disquieting.

Seeing the forces of Dromammu after Hyperion hurled himself through the portal into the Dark Dimension was… confusing.

Tony watched silently as a flying creature flew by overhead in slow-motion, its sinewy body rippling in time with the strokes of its various wings, before suddenly it blinked a dozen feet forwards, as if someone had pressed skip on the remote. Then it simply hung there in the sky, completely frozen, before it blinked back to its original position and started flying forwards once more, once again moving in slow motion.

This creature wasn't the only one that acted… oddly. In fact, everywhere across the battlefield, everyone reported seeing the same thing happening to the other demons, though no demon appeared to be sharing the same pattern of time dilation and the time between resets seemed to be random in length.

"Jarvis?" Tony asked quietly, hoping that his closest friend could somehow make some sense out of this madness.

"Sorry sir. No idea." Jarvis replied equally quietly, and Tony easily picked up on the AI's hidden discomfort.

It wasn't often that Jarvis was thrown for a loop after all.

As Tony allowed his sensors to start scanning his surroundings, hoping for a clue of any kind, two beings caught his attention. The first, and the most obvious, was the Leviathan that McCole had ridden in the One Day War and had subsequently captured and (apparently) tamed.

A regular Leviathan was already large enough to boggle the mind, but McCole had given his unusual steed a little upgrade in the form of Pym Particles. Meaning that it was now larger than most skyscrapers and its massive size caused a shadow to fall over parts of the city.

While the sight of it made Tony's hairs stand on end, he quickly realized that the monstrously large creature wasn't doing much of anything, really. It kept flying in wide circles without paying attention to anything in its surroundings, be it buildings or demons. Occasionally, a shudder would ripple down its impossible length and it would let out a keening noise, as if something had hurt it but it couldn't tell what or why. If anything, it looked… lost. Like a confused little puppy.

Berating himself for comparing a beast that could swallow a blue whale in a single bite to a little puppy, Tony instead focused on the second figure that he had noticed. It was smaller than Hyperion's Leviathan (then again, so was every other single thing on the planet) but no less eye-catching.

People tend to notice a flaming skeleton of a woman sitting on the flaming skeleton of a gargantuan T-Rex as they both stand atop a shattered skyscraper after all.

Tony's mind immediately leapt to solving both these new problems, happy to tackle something that at least made some attempt at resembling sense again.

'Given the papers that Othrys has published on Chitauri anatomy, and McCole's apparent control over it, I think it's safe to say that there's some mind-control component to the Leviathan's behavior. All the others died when they were disconnected from the Hive Mind, meaning that this Leviathan is linked to some sort of alternative, meaning McCole's mind and the Leviathan are connected. With McCole in a different dimension, that link is strained at best. The occasional hints of pain probably show that McCole is struggling against Dormammu.'

Not willing to pursue that train of thought any further, since it would only lead him to unproductive worrying about how the fight between Hyperion and Dormammu was going, Tony focused his mind on the flaming woman and her flaming skeletal T-Rex.

'Appearance suggest familiarity with the Ghost Rider encountered during battle. 'Cause really, how many flaming skeletons can there be? … I might have jinxed myself asking that. Anyway, the clothing and the fact I found her near Hyperion and Sterns in a non-hostile situation suggest that this is actually Jessica Jones, also known as Theia. The T-Rex is also a pretty obvious identifier. I think her name was Susan or something. Jones' profile never mentioned her being able to turn into … this. Same goes for the T-Rex. So, it happened during this battle, and the other Ghost Rider hasn't shown up since McCole arrived. Conclusion: Jessica Jones has inherited the power of the Ghost Rider of the previous host, but does not seem to share the same agenda. For now.'

Having theories, and being a scientist at heart, Tony was about to go on to collect evidence to (dis)prove them by asking Jarvis to pull all available footage from the various drones all over the battle field concerning these two targets when various screens popped up on his HUD, pre-empting his question.

Sometimes, Tony wondered whether or not Jarvis had secretly given himself the ability to read his creator's mind. Not that Tony would've objected, but there was a lot of shit up there that could be a bad influence on a young, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed AI.

Putting the thought out of his mind and saying a quick "thank you" to Jarvis, Tony quickly looked over the high-light reel his friend had quickly slapped together. The evidence appeared to corroborate his theories, so now, all he had to do was…

… was…

… what, exactly?

Tony slowly came down from the adrenaline high his fight-or-flight response had put him on for the better part of a week as the realization began to set in. He could plan and theorize all he wanted, but he couldn't act. They couldn't even start picking off the demons while in their time-locked state: Jarvis had also included footage of soldiers unloading their magazines into a creature that seemed to be moving backwards through time, before it blinked out of existence and reappeared at the starting point of its loop, with no sign of the soldiers' attacks on it.

All they could do was wait. Wait and hope.

"… fuck."

"Indeed, sir."

For a moment, Tony merely stood on that roof, gazing up at the sky in silence, before he shook himself, his jaw clenching as determination returned to his eyes. Tony may be many things (and a lot of them weren't very nice), but if there's one thing he wasn't, then it's being a quitter.

Quickly calling down additional supplies and armor parts from the various hubs in low orbit (and trying to ignore how many of them were running dangerously low on supplies), Tony called up several screens as he instructed Jarvis to retool the drones in order to do as many different types of analysis on the time-looped demons as possible. Meanwhile, he was looking through his ordnance and previous test-results of the portal itself.

Affecting the demons from this side didn't seem to work, but perhaps hurting them on the other side would do the trick. Clearly it was working for Hyperion, since his battle with Dormammu was affecting the demons here somehow.

What would happen if they sent the entirety of Earth's nuclear ordnance through the portal as well?

That would be their last resort though, considering their current best shot at victory was probably still fighting for his life on the other side, but Tony felt better at having at least something in his arsenal to throw at whatever hostile horror that would end up coming out of that portal should the plan fail.

In the meantime, maybe sending smaller ordnance could work. Targeted missiles instead of WMD's. They couldn't hurt the time-looped demons, but the opposite was also true, meaning that they could move into position close to the portal without being harried by teeth, claws and bright beams of energy.

Tony already spotted several Quinjets moving in tighter circles around the portal, weapons hot and in tight formation, Barton leading in front. Someone over at HQ clearly had the same idea as he had.

They would hope for Hyperion's victory, but humanity was prepared to go down fighting on their own terms should the Titan ended up failing against Dormammu.

However, right as Tony was about to move several of his own gunnery platforms into position, the portal gave off a bright glaring light. Several alarms began chiming in Tony's HUD as some charts seemed to be going haywire.

Something was coming through the portal. Whatever it was (and Tony was desperately hoping it was McCole's stupid smug face), it was powerful.

"This is it boys. If it's anything else than Hyperion, then… then it has been a true honor to have been fighting alongside all of you. Thank you for your service to your country and to humanity. Carter out." Tony heard over his comms, and he, like every other defender still alive in New York, found themselves straightening their back, squaring their shoulders and taking a deep steadying breath.

Looking straight at the portal, even as the light became unbearably bright, Tony found himself softly whispering to the only person that could hear him.

"Jarvis. I-"

"I'm with you to the end, sir."

"… Thank you. Take care of Pepper. She'll need you."

"You have my word, sir."

The light was burning now, and Tony quickly looked away, seeing how the very air was distorting due to the powerful energies accumulating above the New York skyline.

"We've had a good run, you and me, haven't we?" Tony suddenly asked with a soft chuckle, even as his repulsors spooled up, their familiar whine a comforting sound.

"… the very greatest, sir. I couldn't have asked for a better life than the one I have lived with you." Jarvis said after a moment, his voice soft and clearly emotional

Seeing the portal bulge outwards, like a stomach heaving, Tony crouched, feeling the servos and actuators in his armor smoothly following every movement of his muscles. Tension and adrenaline rampaged through his body, and Tony noticed that he was gritting his teeth.

"This is it then."

As if his words had been the signal, the glow swallowing the portal seemed to condense into something more solid and then, without warning, coalesced into a beam of sheer light and power that slammed downwards, crashing into the ruined remains of what once had been an office building.

The top fifteen floors of the building simply vanished, while a cascade of broken windows travelled down the entire length of the building in a visible shockwave of force, before it crashed into the ground, shaking the surrounding area and buildings. Tony felt the shock through his armor, and nearly stumbled. If it hadn't been for the stabilizers and dampeners in his armor, that would've easily thrown him to the ground.

The top of the building was surrounded in smoke and debris, hiding the arrival from view and yet there was no doubt in Tony's mind about the identity of the newcomer.

The Leviathan that did a U-Turn and barreled towards the broken building with an aura of relief and joy was a pretty good indication.

The way the new Ghost Rider visibly relaxed on top of her skeleton T-Rex, which gave out a happy bark, was another indicator.

But the biggest clue was every single remaining demon in the city freezing up and unceremoniously dropping dead, while the portal above twisted in on itself and disappeared into nothingness with a sucked-in crack that thundered throughout Manhattan.

The Invasion was over.

And as the dust settled and the sun shone upon his golden armor, his white cloak shifting lazily in the breeze, humanity saw the one that had saved them.

Hyperion had returned.

Despite his misgivings about the man, Tony couldn't quite contain himself and let out a whoop of relief as he pumped his fist.

"Yes! Fuck yes! Take that demons! YES!"

From far below, Tony could hear similar cheers go up amongst the ragged defenders as the realization dawned on them as well. They did it. They won.

Focusing back on the man that had made it possible, Tony saw how Hyperion straightened from the crouch he had landed in, his one-hundred-foot-tall form overseeing the ruins of New York like a king surveying his lands.

Tony couldn't see the man's face, but there seemed to be an air of melancholy surrounding the enormous giant as he took in the destruction of New York. It was slightly alleviated by a hearty laugh from the Titan when the gargantuan Leviathan encircled him, rubbing its head the size of a large mansion against him like a dog greeting its owner after a long absence.

Hyperion responded in kind, vigorously scratching the enormous monster on its head-plate and on the side of its jaws, appearing completely unbothered by the multitude of teeth hovering dangerously close to his head, each one as long as a bus.

After a few moments of this, Hyperion's bad mood seemed to return when he straightened and looked up at where Jessica was sitting on top of Susan. Giving his Leviathan a few more pats on the head, Hyperion slowly floated up to the top of the building that Theia was perched on until they were roughly at eye level.

Despite the fact that the man now had lungs that were several meters long and vocal chords of several feet in length, Tony was unable to hear the conversation that followed between the two, though it seemed to get heated quite quickly, judging from the way that fire billowed out of Theia's empty sockets.

Even zooming in with optical scanners was of no use: Hyperion's face was hidden by his helmet and being able to lipread was pretty useless when the person you were trying to read didn't have lips in the first place.

All Tony saw was Theia's jaws clicking together furiously, as she bit out something at the enormous giant floating in front of her, who suddenly stilled completely in response. For a brief moment, Tony wondered what the hell that conversation had been about (and why/if the pair would come to blows despite the fact that they should be embracing each other after this miraculous victory. They certainly had done so last year).

Then Tony finally heard Hyperion's voice as it boomed across the battlefield.

"Very well. Let's try this then."

While Tony was wondering what "this" was, Hyperion steadily flew upwards, until he was floating several hundred feet above the remaining skyscrapers. His massive Leviathan followed him, coiling its immense body behind him, floating in place. As Hyperion touched down gently on his massive steed's head, Tony grudgingly had to admit that one thing he couldn't deny about the thief and humanity's savior, was that the man had style and a flair for drama.

"Jarvis."

"Already on it." Came the smooth response, and a window opened on Tony's HUD.

It was video footage from a drone that Jarvis had sent to take a closer look, and Tony could clearly see how Hyperion moved his hands and wrists in odd, rhythmic patterns. As they moved, a small green light at the bottom of his neck grew in brightness, and Tony recognized it as the same amulet that had allowed Hyperion to reverse time on himself.

That had involved McCole being surrounded by a shimmering, translucent green glow. This seemed to affect a larger scale.

Much larger.

Spreading from Hyperion's position in the sky, a green glow started to cover everything in sight. Every building, every road, every jet still in the air and every burnt-down vehicle on the ground. Tony couldn't see it, but he suspected the glow even went further underground, covering the metro stations and tracks.

It even covered Tony himself.

"What the-"

"Sir, massive spike in magical energy coming from Hyperion's amulet!"

Recalling the warnings the Ancient One had given McCole when he first tried this on himself, Tony felt his heart plummet when he thought about those risks when it concerned an entire city.

Despite rationally knowing that Hyperion couldn't hear him from this distance away, Tony still found himself desperately crying out and reaching towards the glowing figure up in the sky.

"McCole! DON'T!"

But it was too late. With a roar, Hyperion slammed his fists together, and Tony could almost feel the magic seep into his skin. Then the giant's hands separated, a circular array springing into existence between them. He immediately began to slowly turn his hands counter-clockwise along the casting circle. As the man's hands moved and the green light at his throat increased in intensity, a yellow light on his forehead burst into existence, as bright and blinding as the sun itself.

A tingling feeling that quickly worsened into a full-body itch quickly overcame Tony, but he was far too distracted by the feeling of falling down into an infinite abyss and the impossible view that his eyes were insisting was real and his brain flat-out refused to accept.

Because in real life, broken bricks don't suddenly jump up and form formation again, stacking up backwards until the building was whole again. Roads didn't shudder and flow back together again, fusing the cracks and tears until it seemed they were never there before. Glass didn't jump back to form windows again, water didn't suck itself back down busted fire-hydrants, flames didn't reverse themselves out of existence, leaving cars, buildings and trees unburnt and metal didn't unbend itself and buff itself back up to pristine state.

And yet, he kept seeing all that and more. He was even feeling it. The various cuts and scrapes that he had suffered during the Invasion didn't heal, but simply closed themselves back up, the flesh fusing back together to reveal unblemished skin. The bruises that littered his body disappeared like snow before the sun. He even heard his nose reset itself!

Even as the world went crazy and his senses betrayed him, Tony still managed to glimpse the burning form of Theia still up on her skyscraper. Whatever Hyperion was doing to the city, it didn't seem to agree with the Ghost Rider: the flames were intermingled with the soft green glow of McCole's spell and Jones seemed to flash in and out of her skeletal form, clutching her head/skull and screaming her head off.

Whenever she was flesh and blood again, a ghostly flame encircled her, clinging to her skin and hair, before it managed to sink back into her body again, turning her into the Ghost Rider and starting the cycle all over again.

There was no telling how long this psychedelic rollercoaster lasted. It might even be useless to ask 'how long' something lasts when Time is being messed with in such a way. All that Tony knew and cared about, was that the moment the universe stopped spinning, he pressed the emergency release button on his suit.

The various panels swiftly folded themselves away, allowing Tony to fall to his knees and throw up all over the pristine tiles on the roof of the building, rather than inside of his helmet and armor (that had only happened once so far during his career as Iron Man and as far as he was concerned it would never happen again).

Crawling away from his own sick, Tony gratefully let himself roll onto his back, lying spread-eagled on the roof, staring up at the sunny sky as he panted in relief, thankful that the world was no longer twisting in on itself like a cosmic pretzel.

For now, he would just enjoy the smooth, cool, unbroken tiles under his back… unbroken?

His eyes snapped open, and despite the persistent nausea, Tony managed to stumble to the edge of the roof and look out over down-town New York. What he saw made him forget to breathe for a few moments as he took in the sight.

New York. But not the New York that he had lived, bled and fought in for this past week. Not the wasteland that seemed right at home in some pulp book set after the apocalypse. No burnt-out husks of vehicles lining the streets of dilapidated buildings on the brink of collapse.

But New York as she was supposed to look. A gleaming jungle made of concrete. A proud monument to human engineering and architecture. A city that sprawled from horizon to horizon and that dared to reach to the sky with fingers of steel and glass.

New York. Whole and hale again.

"McCole… the fuck did you do? And how the hell did you do it?" Tony whispered to himself as he turned to his left and saw the green of Central Park visible through the gaps in the undamaged skyscrapers and apartments.

"I had really hoped that that would work. You are more stubborn than I had thought."

Hearing the deep voice of the man who had done in several minutes (or hours? Seconds? Days?) what ordinarily would've taken months to years, Tony shakily turned around to see Hyperion floating down and addressing the panting Ghost Rider.

For a moment, neither one spoke, before Hyperion continued, a tone of finality in his voice.

"Very well, Spirit. Finish your vendetta. Punish those responsible for this. Then return my wife and child to me and I shall have a suitable replacement host ready for you. Our paths will divert then, and you had better be sure that they NEVER CROSS AGAIN OR YOU SHALL FEEL THE FULL EXTENT OF MY VENGEANCE."

While some small part of Tony's mind remarked that the line wouldn't have been out of place in some corny '80s action movie, the rest of Tony's mind firmly reminded that errant part of the fact that the line in question was said by a hundred-foot-tall giant who had decimated entire armies on his own.

Twice.

Instead of being corny, the sheer anger in the voice of the man who called himself Titan of the Sun (and most definitely seemed to have the firepower to back that claim) made a primal shiver of fear run down Tony's spine.

Even the Ghost Rider didn't seem unaffected by the tranquil rage of the behemoth in front of it, slightly shrinking away, before it gave a single nod. It whipped its chain around, creating a portal of its own, and it seemed to be in a hurry to leave through it on the transformed T-Rex.

Before it could do so however, Hyperion's voice halted it in its tracks.

"And Jess? Be careful." The Titan said in a much softer tone of voice.

Once again, the Ghost Rider merely gave a nod, and with a slight shift of its legs, it sent the T-Rex running forwards through the portal, which snapped shut right behind them. Tony watched as Hyperion remained staring at where the Rider had disappeared, only broken from his silent contemplation when his Leviathan softly pressed its nose against him.

Turning away from the most powerful being on the planet and his pet, Tony looked back at the restored city of New York, before speaking up in a low voice.

"Jarvis?"

"All material things have been restored to the state they were in before the Invasion began." Jarvis answered promptly.

"Material?"

"All buildings, vehicles, equipment and structures are in pristine condition, sir. Including your armor: it sits at full ammunition and fuel capacity. The ground forces are reporting the same on their vehicles and weaponry."

"But?"

"… only material things have been reversed, sir. Including organic. Amongst the survivors, there are zero injuries. Thor has just reported that his arm has returned. Not grown back or healed, but returned. Whatever spell Hyperion used to turn back time, every single thing within the city has been affected. However, those who died… their bodies appear fine, but they have no heartbeat and no brain-activity. They remain dead."

"What? Why? If he turned back time to before the Invasion began, then we should all be fine! We shouldn't even have any memory of the Invasion at all! And if humans are restored, then why the hell am I looking at a green Central Park?! What makes plants so special that they get to come back and we don't?!"

"Because you have souls, Stark." Came a deep voice from behind him and Tony whirled around, annoyed at himself when the movement made his head spin.

Standing on the rooftop a few dozen feet behind him, Hyperion shrunk down to his usual size (which meant that he still towered over Tony) as he approached him. His faceplate was folded away and Tony could see a heavy weight in the man's gaze as he looked out over the city he rescued.

He seemed physically in peak condition, but considering the party trick he had managed to perform on an entire city, Tony suspected that it wasn't indicative of the wounds that McCole had suffered on the other side, fighting Dormammu and his armies.

And even then, mental wounds were far harder to spot anyways.

Hearing the giant give a deep sigh, Tony suspected that Hyperion had received his fair share of mental scarring from this Invasion.

"Souls?" Tony asked, feeling that it wasn't the time or place to interrogate-, uhh, politely ask the man about what he had seen in the Dark Dimension.

"Yes. All sapient creatures possess them. They can exist within you, or on a different level of existence all-together, in a way that mortal minds simply cannot comprehend. Death is the most common way in which the soul travels from the former to the latter state of existence, but not always. Where they end up… well, that's a complex question with a vast multitude of answers, some of which are contradictory and yet none of them are wrong. It is a question asked by almost all beings, ever since the dawn of time and very few have found the answer. Most have simply ascribed to the idea of a Good Place and a Bad Place, with your actions in life echoing in death."

Agreeing with himself that he would process the answers to questions that have caused religious wars throughout humanity's history, that were just blatantly dumped into his lap, later at home with a sufficient amount of alcohol on hand and Pepper's embrace to curl up in, Tony came back to his earlier question.

"That doesn't answer why only the bodies of the fallen have been healed. You reversed time to before the Invasion happened: to before their death! Their souls shouldn't be running off to God knows where, they should be back into their owner's bodies!" Tony shouted, trying to reconcile the surrealism of his current situation with his history and reputation as a scientist.

When he was still a little teenager at MIT, he never would've suspected that he would one day stand on the roof of a skyscraper and argue with a man who styled himself after the Greek pantheon to shove people's souls back into their bodies.

"Ah, I can see why you think I simply reversed back Time, even though such a task is anything but simple. While I could do that, it would carry great risk with it. Not the least of which is giving Dormammu a backdoor into our world again. He perceives all time, and all timelines, simultaneously. If I start making changes on such a great scale, there will inevitably follow a maze of paradoxes, parallel universes and both stable and unstable loops. Somewhere in that mess of tangled Time, there will be an event, a timeline, in which I'm not here to stop him. He will consume the Earth from that possible future or parallel past and from there move on, like ink spreading through water, until the prime timeline falls, and with it, all realities, all possibilities. He will have won, utterly and completely, for all of time. At that point, he will always have won, and always will win. I cannot let that happen." Hyperion calmly replied, not even batting an eye at Tony's increasing horrified look.

"There must be something you can do!" Tony yelled, and to his own embarrassment and annoyance, he faltered when the Titan's glowing eyes turned towards him from the corner of the giant's gaze.

"Indeed there is. And so I have. I will not take us back through Time. But I can send Time back through us, instead. The material make-up, all that makes you, you, has been de-aged by seven days, except for your minds, which I have let you keep. I felt that it would be a disservice to both the living and the dead to have no one remember the sacrifices made in the name of Earth. But even you, as a man of science, must know that it is not merely flesh and blood that makes a man live. The bodies of the dead have been de-aged, yes. But their souls have moved on. Their bodies have become soulless husks, nothing more than pristine corpses. It isn't much, but it is the best that I could do for them, and for those who will miss them and mourn them." Hyperion stated with finality, and Tony felt the fight leave him.

Despite the fact that his body now hadn't been through six days of war, Tony felt bone-tired and he sank to the ground, his back resting against the short wall lining the roof.

"You couldn't just… tell Dormammu to… I dunno… fuck off for the rest of eternity?" he weakly offered, hearing a rumbling chuckle come from the giant in response.

"I did, actually. That and more. But I am not so foolish as to trust a Lord of Darkness on his word, no matter how grudgingly it is given. Even if he kept his promise, with something as malleable, universal and subjective as Time, there would've been a loophole that he could find and abuse, eventually. That's what it means to be immortal Stark: you can play the truly long game."

"Fine. Fine." Tony muttered as he allowed the back of his head to rest against the cool stone of the wall, closing his eyes as he did.

"Make no mistake, Tony. We won today. Dormammu lost. This defeat is a rarity for him, on a scale that few, if any, have ever managed to inflict on him. By the time he's done licking his wounds, your great-great-grandkids will already be old and wrinkly. And he's not the only one that got his ass kicked: Hell lost a powerful Lord, and a significant amount of their grunts, though admittedly not a crippling number. Who knows, maybe Blonksy's still alive and kicking down there, just being a general nuisance. Gives a whole new meaning to the saying 'raising Hell', huh?"

Tony smirked a bit at that, before he gave a tired sigh, memories of countless fallen soldiers and civilians flashing through his mind.

"I get it. I do. Tactical victory, keeping up morale, all that jazz. I've heard it a hundred times before at Stark Industries meetings or in talks with generals. Just… do me a favor? Don't try that shit on me. I don't need cheering up. I know that it's unfair for me, for any of us, to expect you to go and raise the dead too, as if you haven't done enough for us already. If it weren't for you, we'd all be dead right now, so we owe you. But if you really can't bring everybody back… then there's nothing left here anymore. Right now, I just wanna go home, get comfortably numb through the judicious application of quiet extraordinary amounts of alcohol, climb into bed with my girlfriend and hold her tight throughout the night." Tony morosely replied.

For a moment, all was silent except for the faint cheering from far down below, before Tony heard the sound of movement and of metal scraping against stone, before there was a heavy thud and a small tremor went through the roof and subsequently Tony's body. Opening a single eye, Tony glanced to his left, where McCole was sitting next to him, hands on his knees and back to the wall.

"I don't blame you: that sounds nice. I wish I could do the same, but… something came up that needs dealing with first." The Titan quietly stated.

Briefly Tony contemplated what to say, before giving a shrug and closing his eye again. He had some theories regarding Miss Jones' changed appearance, but he didn't know enough about the mystical mumbo-jumbo side of things (yet) to really understand the consequences of it. 'Sides, while this was the second Invasion that they had fought off side by side, that didn't make them friends, and Tony didn't feel it appropriate to start digging into the Titan's marital situation.

If he volunteered to talk about it, more power to him. Tony privately admitted to himself though that he would be the last guy to talk to if he ever wanted relationship advice from anyone. The problem with that was the first person he would want advice from was the woman he was already in a relationship in, so that didn't help matters at all (sure, Bruce tried, but he wasn't a very good listener unfortunately).

Changing the subject, Tony brought up something that he had subconsciously picked up on during his talk with McCole, his mind now subtly (yet firmly) elbowing him in the side to examine it in closer detail.

"You've changed."

"Oh?"

Feeling McCole's eyes on him, Tony elaborated, even as he kept his eyes closed.

"It's in the way you speak. The way you carry yourself. You seem… older. Like if you were Gandalf the Grey before, and came back as Gandalf the White."

Cracking open an eye, Tony locked gazes with the Titan, who didn't seem very surprised at the inventor's observations, though somewhat amused at the odd comparison.

"How long were you in there?"

For a moment, the Titan looked away, appearing deep in thought, before he gave a rueful chuckle.

"Long enough that it doesn't really matter. Any 'time' spent there at all would've been time spent there for far too long."

"Huh. The more you know." Tony dryly replied, before closing his eye again, simply enjoying the sun as it softly warmed his face.

They sat there for quite a while in comfortable silence, side by side merely looking up at the sunny sky. Eventually, it was Tony who broke it.

"Michael."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything."

"… you're very welcome."

…

"You're still a dick though."

"Thanks. Right back at you."

The two of them shared a chuckle, before the comforting silence returned. The old wounds hadn't fully healed yet and this last battle had inflicted plenty of new ones for them to worry about.

But for now, in this little moment of peace, all was good.

May 5th, 2012, 03:00

13 Hours after end of Invasion

"I will be home as soon as possible, alright baby girl? There's just some stuff that daddy needs to take care of first, okay?"

"But Dad! You told me-"

"Yes. I did, yes. Look honey, I know Mister Hyperion repaired the city, but… uh, well, there's just a lot of stuff that Mister Hyperion can't do on his own, you know? It's just like me helping you with your math homework. We can't do everything by ourselves sweetie. We all need help. Okay?"

"Okay. When's Auntie Nat coming?"

"She… s-she is, uhm… listen sweetie. Auntie Nat is… she's gone away, for a while. It could take a bit of time before she can come by again."

"Oh. Like… next week?"

"No, honey, no. Uhm, she… it's going to take a little longer than that okay? But she… she misses you, and she hopes to get home soon, okay?"

"Okay!"

"Okay. Listen to your mother, and be nice to your brother. I'll be home as soon as I can. Love you."

"Love you too Dad!"

Shutting off the phone, Barton stared at the device in his hand for a few moments, as if it were a snake that could strike and bite him at any moment. Slowly, with a trembling hand, he slipped it into his pocket, before leaning forwards, gripping the sides of the sink in a white-knuckled grip.

His breathing became heavier and heavier as he desperately tried to control himself, his body shaking with an ocean's worth of suppressed emotions. Looking up, Barton locked eyes with his own reflection in the mirror as the world fell away around him, the sound of his heart beating like a drum in his ear.

Faster and faster and faster until he couldn't take it anymore and with a silent scream punched the mirror. In that single explosive moment, it felt as if the pressure had been let off, at least for now. Seeing his broken reflection, Clint pulled back his fist, slowly and methodically picking out the little splinters of glass from between his knuckles with stilted movements, before rinsing his hands.

He didn't even really register the pain. He barely felt… anything.

He simply stood there, water running over his bloodied skin as he kept staring at the smashed mirror in front of him, until the sound of the door opening caught his attention. He could hear soft footsteps walk further into the room, before the newcomer spotted him and came to a halt.

For a moment, Barton thought that they were judging him, standing here in a bathroom of Stark Tower throwing a temper tantrum and smashing mirrors, but he was unable to find his voice or the will to defend himself, so he merely stayed silent, shutting off the faucet and slowly reaching for a towel.

"Clint? The meeting's already started. Do you want to join us? We'll understand if you don't-"

"It's fine."

"… Clint-"

"I said it's fine, Captain." Barton bit out, looking at the distorted reflection of Steve Rogers in the mirror.

The man's earnest blue eyes didn't hold any judgement, and thankfully no pity. But they held grief, just as Barton's own did and a seemingly unending patience and understanding.

"Okay then. Floor 52, Wing D, Room C. I'll see you there." The supersoldier merely said, giving him a respectful nod and then marching out of the bathroom, leaving Barton to his thoughts.

For a few moments, Clint didn't move, instead merely staring at the towel in his hands, until he saw wet spots appearing on the white cloth. It took him a few moments to understand what was happening before he quickly dabbed at his eyes and took a shuddering breath to center himself.

Throwing the towel in the bin, Barton glanced at his own reflection one last time, before with great effort he raised his chin and squared his shoulders.

It was true what he told his daughter after all: there was still a lot of work to be done.

Making his way up to the 52nd floor was easy, but the experience was nonetheless disconcerting: due to its proximity to the battle and being the HQ of the Avengers, the battle had concentrated around Avengers Tower several times at different points during the Invasion, as his briefings had dubbed it. The people were still divided however on what to call this Invasion though, with names ranging from War on Earth (as opposed to the War in Heaven) or simply Hell Week.

Whatever name people ended up deciding on, the fact remained that less than a day ago, the hallway that Barton now walked through… simply hadn't existed. Thor had slammed a bipedal beast with tentacles for a head straight through this floor and three subsequent ones before he managed to reduce it to a smear on the ground.

Now, not a single sign of that battle remained. The walls were still there, the floor and ceiling were still there and there were no demon brains staining the carpet.

It was… unsettling. While everyone (including Clint himself) was grateful to Hyperion for restoring the city as he did, people couldn't help but to be weirded out by the stark difference in what they were seeing and what they remembered.

Finding your home in the exact condition that you left it in after you fled from a horde of demons would be jarring for anyone. Especially when not everything was back in place where it should be. Hyperion had given a (very) short statement to the first people of the press who had dared to venture back into New York following his spell, and Tony had managed to give a brief conformation in his report before he ran off to bed, so Barton only had a limited grasp on just what exactly the Titan had done.

As far as he understood it, the spell had affected objects, rather than just time, meaning that stuff was still lying where it fell when the Titan did his magical juju.

People came home to ransacked rooms, but with every object that had been strewn about still in perfect conditions. Vases that had been clearly thrown to the ground lying there in perfect condition, without a single chip or crack. Picture frames that had been thrown against walls lying on the floor without a single mark on them. Cars that had been abandoned in the middle of street, after which they were smashed/blown up/set on fire, only for their gob-smacked owners to find them right where they jumped out of their vehicles.

Some things were more tragic than strange however. For instance, the fully intact fighter jet that they had found on one of the top-floors inside an office building in Manhattan. The healthy looking, but undeniably dead person sitting in the cockpit had made the find all the more harrowing for the first responders.

As far as Barton knew, there still were no plans on the table to extricate the jet, just like there were no plans for any of the similar occasions that had been found all over the city.

Wherever two objects would've occupied the same Space while turning back Time, they had just seemed to… glitch, back into reality. So far, there had only been a handful of accidents as a result of Hyperion's spell in which something had unintentionally gone wrong.

Barton had been briefed on them, as all Avengers and higher cleared SHIELD Agents and Army personnel had been, but he hadn't been… in the appropriate mindset and he had honestly forgotten most of them already.

One of them which he still vaguely remembered had been about a car being crushed underneath a tank. The tank had run over the car during the Hell Week, and its crew had been roasted alive inside of it when a demon managed to pry the lid off and climb inside. It had remained on top of that car for the remainder of Hell Week since it had quickly fallen deep behind enemy lines.

Then Hyperion swooped in to save the day and turned back Time and both the car and the tank were returned to excellent condition. Unfortunately, the tank had glitched back into existence above the car, so when the spell was released, gravity managed to pick its jaw up off the floor and the car was subsequently squashed.

Still, considering the effects had been city wide, Barton was somewhat surprised he had only been given a single sheet with such incidents (which was now probably somewhere in a trash bin he remembered), instead of a massive stack of paperwork.

'Magic. What can't it do?' he glumly thought to himself, before almost stumbling as he fully realized the implications of what he had just asked.

Slowly, hope came back to life inside his chest as he tentatively started putting a plan together. He had no idea how this would work out, and absolutely no guarantees, but he had to try it.

He owed it to Nat.

Clint was drawn from his musings by the sound of shouting and looking up, he realized he had already arrived at the conference room. Quickly opening the door, he let it softly fall closed behind him, before quietly moving to the back of the room, taking in its occupants with a quick glance.

Fury and Carter were standing at the front of the room, several high-ranking SHIELD Agents and what appeared to be a few generals from various branches of the military standing behind them. Carter's eyes swung to him when he entered, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him as she was wholly focused on the loud discussion going on. One distinctive voice in that discussion was Fury's, who was leaning forwards onto the head of the long table on his knuckles, his remaining eye blazing with anger and determination.

Somewhat behind Fury and to his left was Hill. She too had noticed him, and gave him a subtle, polite nod, but no more than that. Her hands were clasped behind her back, but Barton had known her long enough to know that the woman was tense and more than ready to go for her side-arm.

Sitting opposite the Government were the Avengers and their respective partners. Stark and Pepper, of course, were sitting closest to Fury and Carter at the right side of the table. Stark only seemed to be half-listening, appearing to be more interested in his phone, but Clint wasn't fooled.

He had seen footage of the Hammer vs. Stark hearing after all.

A Tony Stark that was looking at his phone was far more dangerous than a Tony Stark that was looking at you.

Pepper's lips were pressed in a thin line as she stared down the Directors of SHIELD and half a dozen generals, a notepad filled with crisp writing in front of her as she tapped a pen against the paper as the only tell of her hidden frustration.

Banner and Betty Ross were sitting on their right, further away from the Government officials. Not surprising, given Banner's past experiences with the Army. The man looked uncomfortable, but that was hardly a new expression for Bruce. Thankfully, he didn't seem too flustered or angry, probably partly because of the slim hand of Betty that was resting on his forearm.

Opposite them on the left side of the table sat Steve Rogers and James Rhodes. As military men, they were more likely to side with whatever Fury was pushing for right now (or being forced to do so), but they were also friends to Stark. There had even been a special note in his SHIELD file that Rhodes' loyalty to Stark was not to be underestimated and could potentially supersede his loyalty to his country.

Sitting to their left was Thor, who seemed utterly unimpressed by, or interested in, the argument going on, instead repeatedly poking his left arm with a look of wonder on his face. Clint could sympathize: he certainly had been surprised when his thee of his ribs had suddenly snapped back into place (especially since he had assumed he had only broken two).

Clint was rather thankful that Thor hadn't shown up with his brother, as had become his habit during the Hell Week, leaving him in the magically sealed prison in the New York Sanctum. It wasn't that Clint was unsympathetic to Thor's feelings regarding Loki. They had been brothers for longer than most countries even had had their names. Considering they came from a Viking-like culture, it was probably easier for Thor to stomach the deaths that Loki had on his conscious, even if the Jotun's betrayal hadn't hurt any less.

To be fighting side by side once more, for a just cause, that must've been a dream come true for the Thunder God.

No, Clint wasn't unsympathetic towards the blonde tower of muscle: it was his lankier, black-haired, black-hearted brother that he despised.

Mitigating circumstances or no, giving aid against the demons or no, Loki had used him in order to cause the deaths of hundreds. The God of Lies had violated him in the very worst possible meaning of the word. He had forced Clint to rain down death on his own friends and colleagues, because apparently, the little God was throwing a temper tantrum.

Clint would never forgive Loki. If it hadn't been for the other Avengers and his own exhaustion at the end of the One Day War, he would've put an arrow between Loki's eyes (and if that wouldn't do the trick, he had a whole quiver with explosive ordnance and was willing to bet that Loki's insides were a lot softer than his outsides).

Shaking off his dark thoughts, Clint focused on the person who was sitting next to Thor: his girlfriend Jane Foster, who was also here as a representative of Othrys. Clint was somewhat surprised that she was the only one of Hyperion's forces to be here. The archer had half expected to see Hogarth here ready to throw down with SHIELD, the Avengers and the military all at once.

Clint would've felt sorry for themselves is she had shown up.

Foster seemed to do just fine though, an interestingly thin stack of papers in front of her. There had been longstanding rumors that Othrys had mind-enhancing drugs in its worryingly large arsenal of human modification serums, meaning that the petite scientist probably had Othrys' entire strategy already memorized.

Like Pepper, she only barely seemed to be able to contain her frustration, leaning forwards in her seat and searing Fury with her eyes (metaphorically, thankfully, since Clint was quite aware that the same could not be said for other Othrys employees). Sitting to the left of Jane and Thor, and who appeared to be more than a little awe at that fact, was a rather unassuming man. Seemingly in his thirties, with a rather unkempt appearance, he certainly looked out of place next to the Prince of Asgard in full battle regalia.

It took Clint a few seconds to recall the man's identity. Robert Coleman, who had apparently been named the 'Whizzer' for some godforsaken reason. Had the power to move supernaturally fast, but the superpower was triggered by his flight-or-fight response. Given that he had apparently worked close together with the military doing stuff from supply runs to communications, Clint figured he had been afraid during the entirety of Hell Week.

'Then again, I suppose he's not the only one.' The archer thought to himself.

There were various people standing against the walls of the room, but after a quick glance, Clint dismissed them. He recognized a few as SHIELD, the others were probably military or government representatives.

High enough clearance to be present, not important enough to have a seat at the table.

The fact that they were in a conference room in Avengers Tower in the first place was a surprise in and of itself. Whatever the military or the Government wanted, they would've undoubtedly preferred one of their own blacksites, and Fury being down here instead of up in his Helicarrier was a minor miracle of its own.

A powermove by Stark no doubt, to show his opponents where the power truly lied.

As he had said to Loki (and had subsequently bragged about for weeks to the other Avengers): they may have an Army, but the Avengers had the Hulk.

The only General who would've taken those odds was currently freezing his ass off on some miserable post in Antarctica, so that was one less headache to worry about.

Hearing that there was a lull in the shouting, Clint looked up, schooling his features into a smirk with the practice that comes from years of acting lessons.

"So, what did I miss?"

Of course, that unleashed a whole new tirade from several figures as they kept interrupting each other and trying to talk over each other, until the fighting from before returned with a vengeance. Not having the energy or will to be a part of the noise, Clint instead remained hanging back, going over the information in his head.

The Government was (admittedly not without cause) collectively shitting their pants. At least with the One Day War, Loki's destruction of the Project Pegasus facility had given SHIELD the chance to go on high alert and inform the WSC. For all their (many, many) faults, the WSC had still been an alliance between the highest-ranking politicians in several of the world's most powerful countries, meaning that behind the scenes, various world governments silently prepared themselves for an attack, completely unnoticed to the general populace.

Hell week, on the other hand…

There had been no warning. There had been no omens. Just an opening strike in the middle of one of the largest population centers on Earth, right when there were masses of people out on the street to celebrate humanity's victory in the last Invasion.

They had been taken off guard. The Government, sure, but the Avengers and even Othrys as well.

And this time, Hyperion was somewhere in outer space in a truck.

The military had come to realize an uncomfortable truth: there were no battlefields anymore. There were no defensive positions or border control. No enemy on the other side of the ocean, which you could engage with your own forces while leaving your civilian population out of it.

Sure, the army had seen plenty of urban warfare, but never on its home turf, and never on this scale.

This new type of enemy could strike at any time, right at the heart of their country, and the military wasn't equipped to beat them back.

Tony would no longer make toys for them and the ones that they already had were steadily running out. There were others eager to take up the slack, Hammer, Lockheed, even Roxxon just to name a few. But they were no Stark, and in the end, that was the hardware that was needed to stand against this new type of opponent.

There was only one other on the planet who could deliver equal and even greater armaments, but like Tony, Michael McCole refused to sell weapons to the military. Better and cheaper body armor, faster vehicles and jets, clearer and stronger communications devices, sure, he sold those and for an outrageously steep price as well.

And while it had saved the life of many a soldier, it hadn't won the war.

General Patton had once said that wars were won with men, a mantra that had become increasingly popular ever since the success of Captain America. But this was the second time that the Government had to concede that they didn't have the better men.

And this time, it had almost meant the end of humanity altogether.

But Othrys was capable of pumping out these men by the dozen. With the power hidden away in the monolithic structure that was the seat of power to Hyperion himself under their control, there was no opponent that they could not beat, no enemy that they ever need to fear again.

Of course, no General, no matter how powerhungry, was foolish enough to think about strong-arming Hyperion in giving up his secrets (again, the only one who possibly would be was on a well-deserved time-out in Earth's largest coolbox). His displays of power had shocked the world into silence and there still was surprisingly little media coverage of it (not in the least because even the most intrepid of reporters had finally wizened up and evacuated as well after the second day). It hadn't been said by anyone yet, but Clint knew that everyone was thinking it, including every single person in this room.

Hyperion was untouchable.

The 16th century philosopher Thomas Hobbes had introduced a sociological and societal model that basically said that the only reason that society could exist, was because people sacrificed some of their freedom by accepting a higher authority than them, namely the state. Following this view, the state must have the monopoly in violence, and as such is the mediator in any conflict that the humans of the populace might have.

According to Hobbes, if humans didn't surrender their freedom, didn't accept the state's sole right to disciplinary action, then they would give in to their baser, violent nature and all of society would collapse in the biggest bar brawl the world had ever seen.

Which raised the question: who could possibly discipline Hyperion? These concerns had been raised before, especially in the months following the One Day War. Between Hyperion and Theia, and Thor and the Hulk, both Othrys and the Avengers had been painted by various fearmongers as rogue elements just waiting to happen.

Even before the One Day War there had been a long running grudge between the Hulk and the Army. The Hulk seemed to put very little faith in Hobbes' view of surrendering the monopoly of violence to the state.

Still, that had been different to what Hyperion had displayed. People (mostly those in politics and the military) had feared him, because his power meant that confronting him would've been more trouble than it would've been worth.

Now, people were forced to realize that there wouldn't be much of a confrontation at all. Hyperion would wipe them from the face of the earth like a man brushes dust of his shoulder and then he would turn their entire base into a smoking crater several miles wide just for good measure.

No, while they were salivating over his techbase and his powerups, not a single one of the representatives present here wanted to try and strongarm the most powerful being they had ever seen. But it hadn't taken them long before they realized they could look towards those who might stand a better chance of doing so.

After all, the Avengers possessed the very man who had popularized the Patton quote. Then there were Hulk and Thor to consider: two big brutes with a penchant for wholesale destruction of little towns. Perfect candidates to function as the military's strongmen. And if they could not bring Othrys to heel, then there was always the chance that they themselves could be laid low.

As far as Clint could tell, SHIELD was here as a sort of bridge or buffer (depending on who you asked) between the military and the Avengers, but also partly because SHIELD wanted to recoup its losses. Back when the One Day War had been won, they had managed to steal away some Chitauri tech before Hogarth stepped in and set up a joined storage/research initiative between the Government and Othrys, shutting SHIELD's operations down hard.

Still, despite the complete clusterfuck that had followed, SHIELD had been able to claim a small victory by adding another stash to their collection of advanced/alien technology, ripe for reverse engineering.

There was no technology to claim from the demons.

The demons from Hell had been completely liquified by whatever Samuel Sterns had done to close the portal to their dimension ("he goo-ified them, what more do you want me to say?!" a frustrated Stark had yelled when one General had failed to grasp the intricate quantum mechanics Tony had been trying to explain one too many times) and nobody wanted to touch the Mindless Ones from the Dark Dimension with a ten-foot pole wrapped in Vibranium after seeing the effects their blood had on humans and Hell-demons alike.

Meaning there wasn't even any genetic material to take away from this and experiment on.

Still, SHIELD had a dislike of leaving empty-handed, and considering the hits they had been taking for this past year, they were rather eager to get an in on Othrys technology as well. And failing that, there was always their old partnership with Stark.

Who was less than pleased with that line of thinking.

"Fuck no."

"Tony!"

"Right, right, sorry. Please excuse me, allow me to rephrase: fuck off."

"Tony! That wasn't the part that you should've rephrased!"

"Oh, come one Pep, you're only mad 'cause you didn't get to say it first."

"Mr. Stark, please-" Carter began, sounding more exhausted than angry.

Clint realized with a start that she had probably tired from saying that line ever since before he had even been born.

"Peggy." Steve cut in, his voice soft but his tone firm.

With a sigh, Director Carter turned to look at him, though her expression almost immediately softened when they locked eyes.

"Tony doesn't want to sell the Army weapons anymore. He has left that life behind him. I understand why you, why all of you, would want him to come back, I do. As Fury once said, we're hopelessly outgunned. But it's still Tony's decision, Peggy. He decided that he would quiet being the Merchant of Death, but become Iron Man instead. It's a brave decision, and one that I feel we should honor. There's no weapon in the world that would help us if we had to force someone to make it for us." The Captain said earnestly, and for some reason Clint was reminded of Mister Rogers.

If Mister Rogers was over six feet tall, immensely muscular and could choke-slam a demon through a concrete wall that is.

The supersoldier's words caused most people to shuffle on their feet as if they just got a lecture from their dad, and Carter gave Steve a soft smile and an exasperated shake of the head. Steve and Tony caught each other's eyes and exchanged a short, professional nod.

It seemed that on this then, the Avengers would stand united.

"Now look, Captain. I'm all for that Kumbaya-shit you're trying to sell here. I am. The problem? They're not. We no longer need to just worry about the billions of other planets out there with potential enemies. Now we need to start worrying about entire dimensions as well! And I for one, will worry a whole lot less, when I got a weapon capable of actually hurting those motherfuckers tucked under my pillow at night." Nick Fury spoke up, his gaze unwavering as he stared America's greatest soldier down.

"And I've been trying to tell you, you don't need to worry! Even now, we at Othrys are setting up a monitoring system, which will alert us should our dimensional walls become thinner! This is in addition to the monitoring spells and barriers put into place by the Masters of the Mystic Arts!"

"Fat load of good those did us." One of the generals muttered just a little too loudly, and Clint frowned.

True, the Masters didn't have the greatest track record as far as he was aware, allowing two Invasions to happen in two years (however, considering this was an ancient hidden organization of wizards, he suspected that they had to have had a not insignificant number of victories under their belt if they were still operational). Still, the wizards had come out en masse to aid in the defense of New York and had suffered losses just as they all had.

Initial reports claimed that they had even almost lost their bases because they had left it understaffed in order to rush to humanity's defense, allowing them to be overrun (showing that, even if they had a somewhat poor grasp of tactics, their heart was definitely in the right place), so the last thing that they deserved was getting disrespected by a some fat guy that had been sitting safe and sound nearly four thousand miles away from the battle in a secure bunker, while they had fought and died on the front lines.

Judging by the smell of ozone that was quickly filling the room, Clint wasn't the only one who was thinking along those lines.

Having stopped poking his re-attached arm, the God of Thunder had risen to his full height without a word and once all eyes were on him, had pointedly placed Mjolnir on the table in front of him. The heavy Uru-metal made an unnaturally loud noise when Thor released it, and Clint saw more than a few sets of eyes nervously flick towards the legendary Warhammer and then back to her equally legendary wielder.

"The Masters of the Mystic Arts are our allies. Their leader, the Ancient One, is a friend. You would do well not to disrespect her in my presence ever again." The Asgardian firmly intoned, looking every bit the Royal Thunder God that Vikings had thought him to be hundreds of years ago.

The General looked suitably chastised, but Fury quickly took control of the conversation again, appearing to not be bothered by the angered God standing not even ten feet away from him.

"Look, if we can get back down to business. Humanity is scared. They looked to us to protect them, and we failed. The war was won, but it sure as shit wasn't won by us. All we could do, was hold out until Hyperion could come back from his little Magic Schoolbus experience to save our collective assess. A man, who I'll remind you, is suspected of being the thief who stole Stark's tech from his Expo during his fight with Vanko two years ago! Not to mention the various murders that he has been implicated in-"

"Director, I would like to remind you that these are merely rumors and that Othrys would like you to either present proof or refrain from making these comments in the future, or we will sue for libel." Jane spoke up quickly, nearly jumping from her chair in her vigorous defense of her boss and new home.

"Oh, I bet you'd like to remind me about that." Fury growled out in annoyance, but Foster was undeterred.

"Considering I know from firsthand experience how you and your people are fine with flaunting the law to get what you want…" the scientist shot back icily, causing Fury to give an annoyed grunt, though he did back off.

In the tense silence that followed, Carter spoke up, her voice calm and collected and clearly not tolerating any further bullshit or objections.

"This is not a time for squabbling, or releasing our fear in the form of anger. There are some truths that we all already know, but don't want to acknowledge and I think it's best that we lay out all our cards on the table. So, in summation: we are all afraid. Afraid of the demons coming back. Afraid of the demons existing in the first place and all that it implies. Afraid of what would've happened if we lost. And, as dishonorable as it may sound to some of you, afraid of the man who made sure that we won. We owe Hyperion a great debt of gratitude for his strength and power. But it is that same strength and power that makes some of us… uncomfortable. He has shown the power to potentially raze cities to the ground, if not worse, with an ease that is honestly terrifying. But more than that, those of us that fear him, do so, because at the reigns of all that godlike power, is just a man. And many of us here have seen the darker, corrupt side of Mankind. Thor, you are a literal God. More than a millennium old. Even you were banished from your realm due to foolishness and your irresponsible handling of your power. Just how can we put our trust in a human wielding similar, or even greater power? We are not meant to be Gods. I have seen it many times, and it has never ended well. We cannot handle the power it grants us. Cannot deal with the truths it shows us. We will become our own destruction and in doing so, will hurt others as well."

"Micheal wouldn't do that! How can you even say that after what he did for you?!" Foster spoke up again, appearing genuinely upset.

"Perhaps not. Perhaps he will prove to be better than all of us. But… perhaps he won't. Can you say with certainty? You live with superhumans on a daily basis. Look me in the eye and tell me that they are all paragons of truth and justice and general goodness. They are wonderful people, no doubt, but they are just that. People. As is Michael, even if he presents himself as something different these days." Carter softly, but firmly rebutted.

Allowing her eyes to roam across the room's occupants, she continued.

"You all know me. You know what Hyperion has done for me. What he has given to me. For that, I will always be grateful to him, and even if I do not sound like it, I genuinely consider him to be a good person and I wouldn't mind to call him friend, or ally at the very least. What some of you may not know are the side-effects of what he has done to me. Perhaps he didn't know as well. The Supersoldier Serum, it changes both what's on the outside and what's on the inside. In the case of Red Skull, it enhanced his evil nature, in the case of Steve, it enhanced his good nature. It seems in me, it has enhanced my stubbornness and paranoia."

She gave a rueful grimace.

"They are… difficult habits to drop. So do be aware that what I am warning you all against here is what I see as the worst case scenario, not my personal opinion on Michael McCole. That does not make it the least likely scenario, or a scenario we shouldn't anticipate. If he went rogue-"

"He wouldn't!"

"But if he did… what then? The loss of life would be catastrophic." Carter calmly continued after Foster's outburst.

For a moment, there hang a heavy silence in the room as everyone considered the Director's words and Clint just knew that each and every single one of them was replaying the various moments that Hyperion showed the true extent of his power in their mind.

He did it too, after all.

"You're asking us to turn on humanity's savior? On it's greatest champion?" Bruce eventually spoke up, and despite the fact that the scientist's voice was mild and soft, Clint saw every single person in the room tense up when he spoke.

No one here would think of interrupting Bruce Banner when he was frowning like that.

"No. I'm asking you if you'll stand in defense of humanity when… if the time comes." Carter replied calmly.

"And if you'll help us do the same. Which brings us to the second point of why we're all really here. We want in. Right now, highly advanced technology is being developed at a mindboggling pace inside Othrys and Avengers Tower. And it's staying in there. The rest of the world can barely keep up. The PDF is still laying its foundations, between recruitment, training and actually building their goddamn space-station, having to fight through miles of red tape every step of the way. NASA is sending material up into space at an increased rate of 450% and yet at little over half of what they used to spend before, but it's only small stuff like probes and satellites. On his latest press conference, Elon Musk said that the first structures that will build housing units on Mars aren't going to take off until 2015 at the earliest, though he expects things will pick up speed rapidly from there. Othrys is trying to get a wonder pill to market that will cure almost any disease or minor injury, but is fighting an endless battle against the FDA, not to mention various protests from hospitals and their staff who fear they'll be out of a job soon. I could go on-"

"Please don't."

Sending a glare at Stark, who merely smiled broadly in response, Carter took a deep breath, before continuing.

"The advancement of humanity is being hamstringed by bureaucracy. We can do a lot to make the process go smoother, faster. But nothing's for free and we want something in return. Something that'll make us feel actually useful in the next fight, instead of sitting on our asses, fighting a retreating battle as we're looking up at the sky praying for deliverance from evil! We want to fight goddamit! So let us!"

Clint saw how some people in the room flinched at Carter's curse, and more than a few couldn't help their gazes from quickly darting around them. Veterans of Hell Week then. One didn't walk away from fighting demons without the fear of God put firmly into them.

He had seen it all over the world, even during Hell Week itself. Massive amounts of people were flocking to Church, the Roman-Catholic one to be precise. It hadn't seen membership numbers like this since the Middle Ages, when the Pope could militarize almost the entirety of Europe but with a single speech. People were desperate to be baptized, to have their sins quickly and conveniently washed away, almost hoping that it would be something along the lines of trying to remove their scent so the demons wouldn't hunt them down.

Of course, once they had been relieved of sin, they started to get really suspicious of whoever hadn't had his sins washed away, and there had been a sudden and worryingly large uptick in hate crimes against (and between) minorities and different religious sides. Christian versus Muslim. Protestant versus Catholic. Sunni versus Shi'i. Everyone who wasn't one of your own, was a potential sinner and thus either the cause of Hell Week, or a potential lure for the demons already here.

With Hell Week finally over and Earth saved by Hyperion, the situation had thankfully defused somewhat, but tensions were still running high all over the world. This was worse than when humanity had violently been shown that they were not alone in the universe and that other Gods existed.

That had also led to religious wars in several areas, but it had also caused a lot of people to lose their faith following the appearance of Chitauri and Thor. Now, people were massively flocking to various religious leaders that seemed to pop out of the woodwork like those games at carnivals where you had to wallop gophers springing up out of a box.

Shame you couldn't grab a bat and wallop these new preachers too.

Some of them definitely needed it.

More interesting (or worrying, depending on how you looked at it) were the people that had begun to form a new religious order all together: neo-pagans. Modern Paganism had already been around of course, but it had always been seen as some odd, harmless (if not somewhat scary looking/sounding) minority, practiced by either hippies or the peoples of Scandinavia.

It had seen a significant rise in numbers since Thor had appeared, causing SHIELD to briefly look into it, but other than flagging some key players connected to various hate groups and extremists (on both sides of the spectrum) they hadn't been deigned a serious threat to international security.

The case had been sealed, information had discreetly been passed on to the relevant Norwegian, Danish and Swedish authorities and then SHIELD had gone back to worrying about its own problems (of which there were many).

Now however, Modern Paganism had gone viral. Neo-pagans were celebrating all over the globe and their number kept swelling by the day.

They celebrated the victory of their God: Hyperion.

Right now, it was still classified as a cult, though one of the largest Clint had ever seen, since Hyperion hadn't given a statement on 'his' neo-pagans yet and the pagans themselves hadn't elected an official church leader of any kind.

Which meant that something had to be done soon, or without agreed upon guidelines, the multitude of differing factions would go to war against each other over the most minute details as they violently tried to establish orthodoxy.

It was how every single major religion on earth had been formed, and unless someone stepped in, it would appear that the newest one would evolve in a similar manner.

Yet the only person who realistically could step in was Hyperion himself. If he did, then overnight he would gain millions of followers who would place their loyalty to him above nearly everything else.

With Carter's speech fresh in his mind, Clint couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at the thought (then again, the pope also made him uncomfortable, so maybe he just had a thing against global religious leaders in general rather than anything against Michael McCole specifically?)

Thor of course had been of no use at all.

"Really? Worshippers? I should visit them! I fondly remember their Yuletide celebrations! Uhm, I actually don't remember much about the celebrations… but that is the point! And after Hyperion goes Julebukking with me, I shall go witness the Games with him! It's been far too long since I've seen pankration and gladiator fights!" the God had simply said with an enormous grin and a faraway look in his eyes.

Focusing back on Carter, Clint realized that in the few seconds after she had spoken, no one had answered her, too uncomfortable to meet her gaze. Well, he supposed he had been quiet for some time now, might as well speak up.

"See… the thing is, you say you can't trust Hyperion, 'cause he's human. Yet you ask us to put massive amounts of firepower in your hands. But what are you? Ain't you human as well? What makes you any more trustworthy than Hyperion? In case you've forgotten, almost all of us here have blood in our ledger."

Clint saw several of the Avengers bow their heads or close their eyes at his reference to Natasha and Clint himself stubbornly clenched his jaw and refused to blink.

"Accountability. Unlike McCole, we still answer to our superiors-" Fury began, but was immediately interrupted by a hologram popping up out of the table right in front of him.

It was a chibi-version of Fury, who had his hands on his hips and cutely glared out to the room. Then audio began to play from the speakers in the room and Clint didn't bother hiding his grin.

"Given that it is a stupid ass decision, I've elected to ignore it!"

As the little chibi-Fury hologram began repeating its iconic line, Stark looked up from his phone for the first time in minutes, a painfully fake look of innocence plastered on his face as he looked at the Directors of SHIELD.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"Hot damn!" Clint heard someone whisper under their breath, and he shot the Whizzer an amused look as the chubby guy blanched and wilted under the combined weight of the gazes from the Directors of SHIELD.

"Alright Tony, shut it off." Steve asked politely, and after some clearly unnecessarily long fiddling with his phone, Tony acquiesced.

Looking from his fellow Avenger to Fury and Carter, Steve rose to his full height, clasping his hands behind his back in an easy stance as he stared both Directors down.

"I think we all should go and get some sleep. Our bodies were wound back, but not our minds. We're all tired and still coming down from our battle highs. I say we put a pin in this discussion for now, or perhaps the foreseeable future. The world is changing. But no matter what happens, I can assure each and every single person here, the Avengers will never stop in protecting it, from threats both without and within. For now, I say we focus on damage control and emergency relief, before addressing the public's fears and calming everyone down before someone, somewhere, does something stupid. All right?"

Like almost everyone else in the room, Clint found himself nodding in response to the Captain's question, and like a class in school that had just been dismissed, several people started shuffling out of the conference room. Several of the generals seemed rather peeved by the chain of command being so easily broken by Steve, but it's not easy being in the military and going against Captain America when he's standing in front of you, especially when he's backed by the full force of the Avengers.

… not the full force though, Clint remembered, and whatever good mood had slowly began building during the meeting immediately died an ignoble death as a cold emptiness seemed to fill his chest again.

He was so distracted by the sudden resurgence of his own grief, he missed Fury fishing a pager out of one of his coat pockets, giving a grim smile as he looked at the displayed message, before giving Carter a significant look. Had he been in a better mental state, he might have even picked up their conversation.

"What is it?"

"She's here."

Fun Fact: A mural on the floor containing the Orb at the beginning of Guardians of the Galaxy depicts the four Cosmic Entities in the Marvel universe: Death, Eternity, Entropy, and Infinity. In the center of the mural are the six Infinity Stones. The wiki states that the Cosmic Entities are responsible for the creation of the Stones.

AN: Originally, I was also going to include Hank Pym having an argument with his daughter because he doesn't want to go to Hyperion to try and save Janet, even though it's clear to them that someone at Othrys has a far greater grasp of the Quantum Realm than Hank does (which is a very tough pill for him to swallow). Hope would storm out, telling him that she wouldn't be held back by her dad's grudges and implies that she's going to Othrys to get help finding her mother. Without his daughter and still unwilling to go to either Stark or SHIELD (though the thought of seeing Carter again tempts him) he decides to do something unorthodox: contact Bill Foster to ask for his help. Of course, he would try to dig up every single little piece of dirt he can find on Foster first, hoping to find some leverage to go back to his old colleague with, leading him to find out about Ava (Ghost). This would lead them to team-up to try and save Ghost, who would become more and more unstable overtime despite their best efforts, leading Hank, who's at the end of his rope, to reach out to his daughter at Othrys, thus bringing the Ant-Man plotlines back into Michael's story. The thing is, this chapter is already 14k words long, and what I've written here is enough to write a whole separate story for, so I'm just informing you all here in the AN, so that we can get on with the actual story in the next chapter. That one will have a lot of talking as well as Michael rounds up the final pieces that he needs and starts preparing his Endgame. However, it also has a pretty kick-ass battle at the end and a new power-up for Michael! So, yay! See you then, cheers!

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