The quinjet's engines whined, a high-pitched counterpoint to the roar of chaos erupting below. Pietro Maximoff, a silver blur, was a whirlwind of motion within the doomed city of Sokovia. One moment he was a flicker of movement, the next, an Ultron sentry was a crumpled heap of metal. He weaved through falling debris and panicked civilians, his enhanced speed turning the world into a slow-motion tableau of destruction.
Above, Iron Man, a crimson and gold speck against the bruised twilight sky, surveyed the horrifying spectacle. The city, ripped from the earth, was ascending. His internal A.I., Friday, delivered the grim prognosis: "The vibranium core is generating a localized magnetic field, sir. It's binding the landmass together."
Tony's jaw tightened beneath his helmet. "And if it falls, Friday?"
The response was chillingly calm. "Catastrophic casualties, sir. Should it reach sufficient altitude...global extinction." The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of impending doom.
He refocused, his mind a whirlwind of calculations and desperate strategies. Rescue. Contain. Minimize. He targeted a crumbling building on the edge of the rising landmass. "Friday, scan for life signs."
"Multiple readings, sir. Tenth floor. A family unit."
Iron Man accelerated, repulsors flaring. He punched through the building's exterior wall, landing in a dust-filled bathroom. A family—father, mother, and a young child—stared at him, their faces etched with terror amidst the earthquake-like tremors.
"Hi," Tony said, the greeting sounding absurdly mundane in the face of such imminent disaster. He spotted the bathtub. An idea sparked. "Okay, everyone, in the tub. Now!"
He didn't wait for them to process the request. He scooped them up, the bathtub serving as a makeshift cradle, and blasted out of the collapsing building just as it crumbled into the abyss below.
A warning blared in his helmet. "Incoming aerial hostiles, sir. Approaching the main bridge."
Below, Captain America, a lone figure of defiance on the bridge, was suddenly swatted aside by a flying Ultron drone. He slammed into a parked car with a sickening crunch.
Tony's belated warning echoed in his comms: "Cap! Incoming!"
Steve Rogers, struggling to rise, managed a pained, sarcastic retort. "Yeah, already got that, Stark!" He pushed himself up, shield still firmly in hand.
He addressed the scattered Avengers, his voice firm despite the pain. "Stark, you focus on stabilizing the city. The rest of us...we tear these things apart. They try to hurt you, you hurt them back. They try to kill you...you walk it off." It wasn't a rousing speech of heroism, but a gritty, pragmatic call to arms. Survive. Fight.
Meanwhile, Pietro, the speedster, was faltering. He leaned against a crumbling wall, his chest heaving, hands clutching his abdomen. The superhuman speed came at a cost. His muscles burned, his lungs ached. He was pushing his body beyond its limits. He rested for only a precious few seconds, then pushed off, a renewed streak of silver against the encroaching darkness.
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Steve watched, concern etched on his face. He's not invincible, he thought, seeing Pietro's momentary vulnerability. He's fast, but he tires. He remembered Pietro and Wanda, young, angry, and manipulated by Ultron. He hoped they'd find their way.
Pietro, meanwhile, grimaced internally. So this is it? I'm this weak? He berated himself. It hasn't even been that long! No wonder Gu Yi left me to train on my own after unlocking my powers. It was all about stamina. He felt a surge of frustration, both at his physical limitations and at his past naivete.
Rhodey, War Machine, voiced the unspoken dread through the comms. "Tony, if it comes down to it...do we really have to destroy the city?" His voice was tight, the question hanging heavy in the air.
Tony didn't hesitate, though the words tasted like ash in his mouth. "It's the least-worst option, Rhodey. A city, or the planet. It's a classic trolley problem, writ large. We choose the lesser evil." He knew it was a brutal calculus, but there was no room for sentimentality.
Banner, ever the scientist, offered a glimmer of hope, his voice thoughtful as he processed the possibilities. "There's another variable. Evacuation. If we can get the civilians off...if it's even possible..."
"Jarvis," Tony interrupted, a new directive forming, cutting through the theoretical and focusing on the practical, "prioritize development of large-scale emergency transport for the Rescue Foundation. Maximum capacity. We need to be ready to move a lot of people, fast."
"Understood, sir. Adding to protocols," Jarvis confirmed, his response instantaneous.
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Below, the Hulk, a green behemoth of rage, intervened in a brutal, visceral way. An Ultron sentry targeting a mother and her child was ripped in half with savage force. The terrified screams of the civilians were directed at the Hulk as much as the robots. He ignored them, leaping away, a force of nature unleashed.
Wanda Maximoff, her face pale with a mixture of fear and guilt, hurried a young child through the collapsing streets. Hawkeye, ever the protector, covered their retreat, arrows finding their marks with deadly accuracy. He dodged a laser blast, nocking another arrow in a fluid motion.
Another sentry swooped down towards Wanda. Her crimson energy flared, and the robot was flung aside, crashing into a wall in a shower of sparks.
Hawkeye, perched precariously on a moving car, fired another arrow, taking down a sentry with a headshot. He flipped through the air, landing gracefully before urging Wanda on. "Go, go, go!"
They burst through a window into a relatively intact building. Wanda's breath came in ragged gasps. "Oh, God," she whispered, her voice thick with despair. "How could I have let this happen?"
Hawkeye, ever practical, cut through her self-recrimination. "Hey, hey! You okay?"
"This is our fault," she said, her eyes wide with horror.
"Look at me," Hawkeye said, his voice firm but kind. "It's everyone's fault. Doesn't matter now. You're here to fight, right? Because, newsflash, the city is flying. We're fighting robots. And I have a bow and arrow." He gestured around with a touch of self-deprecating humor. "Nothing makes sense."
A barrage of laser fire ripped through the wall, forcing them to duck. Hawkeye fired back, a single arrow finding its mark. He crouched low. "I gotta go. That's my job. Okay?"
He looked at Wanda, his expression serious. "I can't do both. Fight and be the responsible adult. Doesn't matter what you did, or who you were before. If you step out that door, you're a fighter. You're an Avenger. Stay here, you're safe. I'll send your brother." He paused, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. "Good talk."
He retrieved a specialized quiver from his leg, the arrows fanning out. He muttered to himself, a touch of disbelief in his voice, "Yeah, the city is flying."
With a deep breath, Hawkeye kicked open the door and plunged back into the chaos, leaving Wanda alone in the relative quiet, the sounds of battle echoing through the shattered window. The choice was hers. Stay, or become something more.
Outside, the sounds of Hawkeye battling the drones were a constant reminder of the stakes. Wanda closed her eyes, the image of the rising city, of the terror in the faces of the civilians, burned into her mind. She remembered the ease with which she had been swayed by Ultron, the seductive promise of power and vengeance. Now, that power felt like a curse.
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Uncle Ben's voice, a comforting presence in her mind, echoed her thoughts. "She's just a child, caught in a whirlwind. She never asked for this war, and certainly not for the guilt of causing it." He felt a pang of sympathy for this version of Wanda, so different from the one he knew in his own reality.
The real Wanda, watching from Kamar-Taj, bowed her head. The memories of her own first real battle, against Killian, were sharp and clear. It had been a test, a controlled environment to explore her burgeoning chaos magic. This...this was something else entirely. This was the raw, brutal reality of unintended consequences. She was grateful, profoundly so, that she had seen Tony Stark's journey, that she had chosen a different path, a path away from vengeance.