The dust over Sokovia was finally beginning to settle.
Silence replaced the chaos.
Only the distant wail of sirens and the occasional rattle of loose stones sliding down broken walls disturbed the stillness.
Natasha Romanoff was the first to move.
She stepped carefully over shattered concrete and twisted steel, heading toward the figure curled inside a massive crater.
Bruce Banner was bare-chested, dressed in nothing but elastic pants.
He hugged his knees tightly, his entire body shaking uncontrollably—like a child who had just woken from a nightmare.
Natasha pulled an emergency blanket from her tactical pack.
"Hey, Bruce… it's over now."
Her voice was soft.
She crouched beside him and gently wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, covering his exposed body.
Banner flinched at first—then slowly lifted his head.
"I… I messed up again, didn't I?"
His voice was thick with despair.
"How many people… how many died? Natasha… tell me the number."
He looked around.
Collapsed apartment blocks.
Black smoke rising from the ruins.
Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, fingers digging into his hair.
"None, Bruce."
Natasha grabbed his wrists, stopping him from hurting himself.
"Listen to me. No one died this time. Someone caught your punch."
"And Tony bought up the damaged buildings. Nothing here is irreversible."
"Really?" Bruce whispered, disbelief etched into his face.
"Really."
Natasha wiped a smear of grime from his cheek with her thumb.
"Someone stopped you. It's over."
Bruce let out a long, shaking breath. His body finally went slack as he leaned against Natasha's shoulder.
"Thank you…"
On the other side of the ruins—
Pietro Maximoff lay on a relatively flat slab of concrete.
His legs were bent at unnatural angles.
The pain had drained all color from his face, yet he gritted his teeth and made not a sound, fingers digging into the rubble beneath him.
Wanda knelt beside him.
Her hands hovered over his legs, scarlet chaos energy trembling at her fingertips—but she didn't dare touch him.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"This is my fault… all of it…"
Her voice cracked.
"I shouldn't have provoked that monster. If I hadn't tried to control him—"
She looked up at the devastation surrounding them.
This was her home.
And now, because of her rage and recklessness, it had become a battlefield.
"I'm a monster, Pietro… I'm a disaster…"
A hand rested gently on her shoulder.
A hand in a red glove.
Wanda trembled and turned her head.
Antony stood beside her.
All sharpness gone, he crouched down so their eyes were level.
"Wanda Maximoff."
"I'm Homelander."
He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"I know you," Antony said with a warm smile, eyes filled with compassion.
"Pietro talks about you often."
Pietro, lying on the ground: "..."
He swore that at Vought he only ever complained about brutal training schedules and the cafeteria pizza.
He had never sat down with the boss for a heart-to-heart—let alone talked about his sister.
But seeing Antony's utterly sincere expression, Pietro swallowed his words, wisely choosing silence while mentally reciting the employee handbook.
"He… talks about me?" Wanda froze.
"Of course." Antony nodded.
"He says you're the only thing anchoring him to this world."
"I…" Wanda glanced at the surrounding ruins, her tears falling harder.
"I only destroy things. I'm a monster…"
"Look at me, Wanda."
Antony's voice carried an almost hypnotic weight.
"Power itself isn't good or evil."
"Fire can burn down houses—or keep people warm through winter."
"You just haven't learned how to control the flame yet."
"But I hurt Pietro…" Wanda sobbed, eyes locked on her brother's shattered legs.
"That's the cost of growing up, sweetheart."
Antony glanced at Pietro and gave the stubborn silver-haired boy a knowing look.
"For a hero, injuries are medals. He took that hit for you—and for this city."
"That doesn't make you a disaster."
Antony cupped Wanda's face with both hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"It means you need guidance."
"You need someone to teach you how to wield this gift—how to turn power that could destroy the world into a shield that protects it."
"That's responsibility, Wanda."
"You can't run from it. You have to learn to carry it."
Wanda stared at him.
In his eyes, she saw something she had longed for without ever being able to name it.
"Can I… really?" Her voice trembled.
"Of course."
Antony smiled—the flawless, reassuring smile the world knew so well.
"I'll walk with you."
That sentence shattered the last of Wanda's emotional defenses.
Special Popularity Gained +15,000
(Source: Wanda Maximoff)
"As for Pietro—"
Antony stepped over and looked down at the broken legs.
"Hang in there, kid. Injuries like this are nothing at Vought. I guarantee that in a month, you'll be winning gold at the Paralympics."
Pietro, drenched in sweat from the pain, forced a crooked smile.
"Boss… that joke… was terrible."
"Terrible?" Antony shrugged.
"I thought it was pretty funny."
At that moment, metal scraped against concrete.
Tony Stark crawled out of the wreckage of the heavily damaged Hulkbuster armor.
Natasha helped the weakened Banner over as well.
The Avengers—standing amid a devastated plaza—found themselves face-to-face once more with Vought's leader.
"Well," Tony said, opening his faceplate and wiping blood from the corner of his mouth as he looked at the completely unscathed Antony.
"I hate to admit it, but this time… you really stole the spotlight, Captain Stars-and-Stripes."
He kicked a piece of rubble.
"That punch catch was clean, though. Real clean."
"JARVIS, remind me to grab that footage later—I want to analyze his force distribution frame by frame."
"Glad you enjoyed it, Tony." Antony smiled.
"If you want, I can autograph it for you."
"Pass." Tony rolled his eyes.
Natasha guided Banner forward.
The legendary S.H.I.E.L.D. operative looked at Antony, her expression complicated.
"Homelander," she said. "Or should I say… Mr. Starr."
"Just call me Antony," he replied casually.
"Long time no see, Natasha."
"Alright. Antony." She shrugged.
"I just figured something out."
"In this world… choosing the right boss matters."
"Fury and his shady nonsense—I'm done with it."
"I was planning to retire."
She met Antony's eyes directly.
"But now, I have to ask…"
"So… is Vought still hiring?"
"Preferably without a fifty-page onboarding application."
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