Three days had passed since the Snap.
The world was no longer the same. Cities were half-empty, ghost-like echoes of their former selves. Nations teetered on the edge of collapse as leaders, cabinet members, and entire governments vanished without warning. The remaining news stations replayed the same grim message in dozens of languages: half of all life, gone. Hospitals overflowed with grieving families, medical staff pushed beyond breaking point, and cemeteries became overwhelmed with the weight of mourning. Funeral homes ran out of space. Some cities held mass ceremonies, lining parks with endless rows of unclaimed ashes.
Flights sat grounded. Trains ran off-schedule or not at all. Electricity grids flickered with uncertainty. Panic had shifted into something worse—apathy. Mourning turned to numb silence. The kind that sank into the bones and made everything feel distant, like a dream from which the world couldn't wake.
In places of worship around the globe, congregations gathered to seek comfort. People lit candles, whispered prayers, clutched loved ones who remained. In small villages and vast metropolises, people built memorials—walls of names, faces, and flowers, lining streets and parks. Some cried. Others just stared.
At the Avengers Facility, silence hung like a thick fog. The war room, once a symbol of purpose and strategy, now echoed with loss.
Natasha Romanoff sat hunched over a notepad filled with scribbles and checkmarks. She crossed out names slowly, carefully. Her list bore no logic—just cold fate.
"Okoye. Still active," she murmured, her voice hoarse from hours without rest. "Carol... off-world. Wong... MIA. Rhodes... confirmed. Scott... still missing."
The words barely registered to anyone else, but she continued—naming, checking, mourning. It gave her something to do. A tether. A reason not to break.
Tony stood near a large pane of glass, staring into the ruins of the courtyard. His mind kept looping back to Peter's last words—his trembling voice, the fear in his eyes. Peter's mask sat on a nearby table, untouched since he laid it down three days ago. He hadn't spoken since.
Steve Rogers stood at the center, arms crossed tightly, expression hollow. He looked like he was carrying the weight of the world again—only this time, the world had lost. His eyes scanned the empty chairs in the room, each one a missing comrade.
Bruce Banner was buried in his lab, surrounded by holographic projections and scanning equipment. Radiation spikes, Gauntlet energy trails, quantum anomalies—he worked nonstop, hoping data could save them where brute force had failed. His fingers trembled from exhaustion, his coffee long gone cold.
Rocket hunched on a chair, clutching a fried component from the Benatar's engine. He muttered to himself occasionally, mostly incoherent. Thor sat against a wall, eyes distant, Stormbreaker lying untouched at his side. His face bore no expression. He hadn't spoken since they returned from Wakanda.
Then the silence broke.
The doors hissed open. Footsteps echoed.
Nebula entered, her cybernetic limbs hissing quietly. Her face was as unreadable as ever.
Everyone turned.
She walked to the main console, placing a device on the table. "He's at peace," she said flatly.
Tony blinked, as if breaking from a trance. "What do you mean?"
"Thanos. He used the Stones again. A second spike was detected. Then… he retreated."
Steve stepped forward. "Where did he go?"
Nebula paused, her voice low. "A place he called the Garden. I know where it is."
Bruce swiveled in his chair. "Another usage spike? How recent?"
She looked at him with that cold robotic gaze. "Forty-six hours ago. Deep space. Coordinates are logged. But if we want the Stones... we'll need to act now."
No one moved. The weight of her words dragged through the air. Hope... but also fear.
Could they face him again?
The tense silence was interrupted again—this time by a faint hum from above. A streak of golden light cut through the clouds and descended rapidly toward the facility grounds.
The room lit up as Captain Marvel arrived, landing firmly outside in a brilliant surge of cosmic energy. The light blinded them momentarily. She walked in seconds later, her boots echoing against the floor, her expression serious. The remaining Avengers turned toward her in silent surprise, a mix of awe and caution.
"I got your message," she said. "Is everyone..." Her voice caught as she glanced around. Empty seats. Hollow eyes. "How many did we lose?"
Tony didn't answer. Neither did Steve.
Steve stepped closer, eyeing the stranger with suspicion. "Wait... who are you?"
Carol turned to face him directly. "Name's Carol Danvers. Nick Fury sent out a signal before he vanished. I got it and came as fast as I could."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You're the one Fury mentioned in the pager..."
She nodded. "Yeah. I was off-world. Handling things. Now I'm here."
Tony glanced at Steve, then back at Carol. "Alright, cosmic lady—so what do you know about all this?"
Carol looked around again. "Where's Alexander?"
Natasha exhaled. "We don't know. He fought in Wakanda... after the snap, he disappeared. We haven't heard anything since."
Carol frowned. "Disappeared? As in dusted, or... ?"
"No dust," Bruce said, looking up. "But his signal... it vanished."
Rocket added, "He was powerful, yeah, but he was burning everything. He might've collapsed wherever he was."
Thor stirred slightly at that, eyes narrowing. "He would not fall so easily. Not him."
Carol's gaze darkened. "We need to find him. If there's even a chance he's alive..."
Steve nodded. "One step at a time. Let's find Thanos first. Then we find our own."
Deep beneath Wakanda, far from the noise of the surface, the shadows remained undisturbed.
Alexander's body lay motionless, encased in a cocoon of layered shadows and flickering system lines. His armor was cracked. The light from his chestplate flickered like a dying star. Yet he breathed. Barely.
The stasis field pulsed gently, like a heartbeat. But it was weakening.
[SYSTEM LOG: STASIS FIELD INTEGRITY — 47%]
[ENERGY SOURCES DEPLETED — REROUTING FROM CORE MEMORIES]
[SHADOW LINKAGE: ACTIVE HOLD]
Then something shifted.
The ancient entity—the regal shadow watching from the perimeter—moved. Slowly. Purposefully. Its form remained indistinct, more silhouette than substance, but every step exuded age and wisdom.
[COMPATIBLE SHADOW ENTITY: OBSERVING]
[IDENTITY: REDACTED]
[PRIMARY FUNCTION: STABILIZATION MONITORING]
The entity hovered near Alexander's head, its presence seemingly comforting the damaged system. It whispered no words, made no sounds, but its intent was clear—it was more than a guardian; it was a tether to something greater. Something Alexander was not yet finished with. A flicker sparked in Alexander's brow, not consciousness, but something else—perhaps a memory, or a name, drifting within the system's remnants.
And it was waiting.
San Francisco.
A storage unit covered in layers of dust and silence. Inside, an old brown van sat dormant. Tarps and boxes surrounded it, untouched.
Then, a sound—a soft skittering. A rat.
It clambered onto the control panel, nose twitching. Its foot pressed against a loose button. Lights flickered. Energy surged.
A sudden burst of light exploded within the Quantum Tunnel.
Then—
Scott Lang was thrown from the unit in a tumble of sparks.
He groaned, holding his head. "What the... what the hell?!"
He staggered upright. The van was covered in grime. Dust caked the floor. Outside, the sun shone dimly through grime-covered windows.
Scott unlatched the door and stumbled out. He stood in the street—only to find it nearly deserted.
Cars were abandoned mid-turn. Trash overflowed. Posters flapped in the breeze, pasted onto bus stops and lampposts: "Have You Seen Me?"
He wandered until he came upon a boy sitting on the sidewalk, alone, drawing on the concrete with a broken piece of chalk.
"Hey, kid," Scott called softly. "You okay? What's going on?"
The boy looked up with haunted eyes. "Everyone's gone. My mom too. They disappeared. Just like that."
Scott's heart dropped. "No... no no no..."
He ran further. Around the corner, he stopped at a wall. Hundreds of names lined it. Faces. Handwritten prayers. Some names were marked with dates. Others had notes: "Never came home", "We remember you", "Still searching."
His eyes locked on one.
Cassandra Lang.
His breath caught. His knees buckled.
But below her name was a tiny note: "Moved to cabin — lives with Aunt Maggie."
Hope surged.
He stood, trembling. "I have to get to the Avengers."
At the Avengers Facility, Bruce sat before a terminal, his eyes sunken.
Then—
BEEP.
"We've got a motion alert," he muttered.
Steve walked over. The screen blinked.
Tony joined them.
Outside the facility gates, a man stood. Dirty, frantic, waving wildly.
Scott Lang.
On screen, he shouted, "Hey! It's me! Ant-Man! Remember? I have an idea! I think I know how to fix this!"
The three of them froze. Steve's mouth parted slightly in disbelief. Bruce sat up straighter, hope rising behind his tired eyes. Tony's brow furrowed as he leaned closer to the screen, his voice a whisper: "That's... Scott?"
Then the screen cut to black.
To be continued.
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