Infinity Era

by JDPrime22

Chapter 63 – To the End

Proxima Midnight and her husband were both undoubtedly, undyingly, unforgivingly loyal to their father. Whatever wish he dreamt, whatever command he gave, whatever order bestowed upon them… they would not rest, they would not stop until it was fulfilled. Only until their father was fully satisfied. Their recent work did not reflect that ideology they were forged in.

Corvus Glaive and his wife stood together, side by side, gazing out into the vast darkness of space from the bridge of Sanctuary II. They knew it only as home, the very ship they stood within being the lair of their uprising, of their mingling, of their training, of their pain… of their love. Thanos was very accepting of his children, very patient and very kind if they did as they were told and returned in victory. Thanos expected no less from the very children he saved from their planets and trained with all their lives. Failure resulted in judgement, which resulted in agony beyond comprehension. But worst of all… resulted from father’s faith to fall away, turn elsewhere. He would no longer look at them the same way again… unless they proved themselves once more.

The needing of a father’s love, of attention, of that bond was something Proxima and Corvus had felt all their lives. It always gave them strength on the battlefield when they claimed infant worlds in Thanos’ name. It was what united them in the first place, brought their love to one united being, made them even stronger when they fought together. It all stemmed from their father, the one who brought them together to begin with.

Now…

Now…

Earth was so hauntingly gorgeous. They never really stopped to admire planets meant to be taken for the Great Titan, but Earth caught them. She caught them in her burning embrace. Her lands, her skies, they bled an inferno so great that the light of sun mixed with the reds and the oranges cascaded across the clouds and the ground. The seas were a beautiful portrait, the colors of the universe, of the Milky Way, of the stars within it and the sun’s own glory spread its love onto the planet and showed her invaders… there was something mystical to it. There was something hidden within the rock. Something they needed.

Thanos gave them one last opportunity to redeem themselves after their failure in Scotland. He showed his fury only when necessary, he expelled his anger only when it mattered. He concealed it so very well, but it was obvious they had disappointed him. His last words before he left them once again were very, very clear. They will take the Soul Stone no matter the costs. They will move towards Africa, towards Wakanda, ready to join the Chitauri warships and begin the invasion. All of Thanos’ forces will be under their control. All of his children’s control. Everything… under their control.

Then he was gone, off on his own quest yet again.

When he came back, they would have the Soul Stone for him. That was what Thanos had told them. No more mistakes. No more holding back. It was all or nothing.

Only their “all” wasn’t truly present at the moment.

“What did the Maw say of his presence?” Proxima Midnight asked, breaking the space of silence between them in the dark, towering essence of Sanctuary II.

“Maw and Obsidian will return shortly, once Thanos commands it,” Corvus Glaive replied. In his hand, in his right claw, he gripped his glaive tighter than usual, the sharpened point pressed hard to the floor of the ship. With every subtle movement, every breath of aggravated air that left him, the point scratched the surface further and further.

“Guess we’re going this one on our own for now,” Proxima commented, an alien sense of fear barely rising on her tongue.

“For now,” Corvus replied almost instantly, ready to ease his beloved’s anxiety. Turning to her, hoping to change the subject matter for the time being, he asked, “Are you certain we cannot just take the mound? The Stone’s presence is directly beneath—”

“An impenetrable shield,” Proxima interrupted him. “The Outriders already informed me.”

Glaive sneered, his fangs glinting the light of the sun and the burning Earth. He would have a firm discussion with the Outriders later for keeping valuable information from him. Only at that moment, he would remain by his wife’s side, discussing strategy, ready to claim the nation of Wakanda in the name of Thanos. One nation was nothing compared to what Glaive had accomplished in the past. Entire worlds once crumbled to their knees just by the strategies Corvus alone was able to calculate and create. Single, decisive, effective, and powerful strategies that led to the collapse of entire civilizations would be more than enough for one simple nation on a burning world. There would be little fight.

Yet his wife’s words made him all the more disheartened. “Our weapons alone cannot penetrate their shield over the mound. If father was here, his Stones could easily grant us access, but he is not. This is our mission. We cannot afford to disappoint father a second time,” she explained, gripping her own spear just as tight—if not tighter—than her husband.

Proxima closed her eyes, hearing the disgruntled growls leave Glaive’s throat. She picked herself up, saying, “However… the Outriders spoke of a shield generator within the capital city. This generator supplies the shield over the mound, as well as the shield over the city. Since defenses improved in the capital city, the Outriders cannot sneak in and destroy it. If we destroy it, then the mound is ours… as well as the Soul Stone.”

“How do we know the shield over the city isn’t as fortified as the one above the mound?” Corvus asked, turning to his beloved.

She turned to him as well, the two meeting each other’s twisted, burning, shimmering, and loyal gazes. All the Earth burned just in their eyes alone. Each saw that. “The blood have proven their worth,” Proxima whispered, facing forward once again, the light shimmering on her face, making her appear more than mortal. “Their bodies have been the first of what is to be many Outriders to blot their lands. We take that city.”

They stood together, gazing out to the Earth beneath them. The humans beneath them, as the fires ate away at their world.

“To the end…” Proxima whispered, holding out her left palm.

Corvus placed his weapon into his left claw and gripped her hand with the other. “To the end.”

With the invading forces moving dangerously closer every second towards the city, the final battle just over the horizon, and the Golden City’s outer defenses barely holding, Steve Rogers realized just how minuscule he truly was compared to the grand scheme of it all.

The golden sunset made Wakanda appear on an otherworldly scale. Fresh sunlight peaked just over the mountain ranges, dipping further and further until only the night would remain, and the stars of the Milky Way would shine down upon the lone African nation. Though Steve knew the sunset was not pure, not by any means. The slight shimmer of the blue dome hovering above and around the capital city was still visible, still made Steve feel so unrealistically small. Especially seeing the Chitauri Command Centers hanging in the distance, their bright blue lights glowing fiercely on their exteriors, making them visible for miles and miles. They only grew nearer as the sun faded, night finally settling. The enemies of Wakanda were circling their prey, vultures nearing, monsters of war ready to enact the invasion.

Steve wasn’t alone. Within the towering glass windows, within the War Room, his Secret Avengers were right by his sides. Natasha, Wanda, and Sam. The only people in the world he could actually trust fully, to no end, to fight and die by his side. Then there was Phil Coulson, an old ally, an old friend, alongside Daisy Johnson and Melinda May. The other agents were preparing the defenses alongside the Wakandan forces, readying the city for the greatest defense they could muster. The Jabari and Border Tribes were already setting up strategic defense points, readying the machines of war, ready to defend their home.

Robbie Reyes was elsewhere, probably somewhere he and the Spirit couldn’t be bothered.

Then there was T’Challa, the Black Panther, his love Nakia, his mother Ramonda, and his closest guards of the Dora Milaje. Okoye and Ayo gazed alongside their king, alongside the Avengers and the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. out into the city below, to the lands afar, and to the war ahead of them. All of them appeared pale, on edge, gripping their weapons and each other’s hands just seeing the alien warships in the distance, so far away yet massive to the eye. They only grew closer with each passing second. Shuri was still in her lab beneath Mount Bashenga, promised to arrive first thing in the morning to give Steve—as she put it—the “best damn shield in the world”.

As for Steve, he returned his attention, his hundred-year-old eyes, back to the stars. The shield above the Golden City shimmered like the ocean’s surface, and like the face of water it would ripple every few seconds, signifying in the worst possible way that the shield wasn’t permanent. It would hold momentarily, but if pressed too far, if too much pressure was added against it, the shield would fail. Leaving the capital city of Wakanda fresh for the taking.

Of course, they could have easily rerouted most of the energy from the shield generator onto the capital city. They could have easily ensured the Golden City’s safety with just the press of a few buttons. But they didn’t. They couldn’t. The shield was barely holding because most of the generator’s energy was being focused over Mount Bashenga, where Shuri was.

Where the Stone was…

Yet the Chitauri still set their focus on the capital city. Just as they had since Wakanda started tracking them before they even entered the nation. They weren’t going for Mount Bashenga. They weren’t going for the Stone.

“The Chitauri either want Wakanda’s strength out of the picture… or they really want that Stone,” Phil Coulson said, ending the silence, seemingly capable of reading Steve Rogers’ conflicting thoughts. Several heads swiveled in the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s direction, every eye from the royalty of Wakanda turning back to stare. To question. To understand everything that he meant.

T’Challa sighed, staring at the floor of the War Room for several seconds too long. He stood in the face of one of the greatest challenges any good king could know and fight against. The very safety of his home, his city, and his people were on the line, threatened by an external force too great for them to handle, on a scale far larger than anything Wakanda was capable of. The city’s populace may have been safely evacuated and taken to the home of the Jabari, but there was still the city. Still his home. Still everything that the aliens wanted.

“They will come for the Golden City,” T’Challa said, his voice grim, his eyes plastered with dread. His mother, his lover, his guards all looked to him. Everyone did. They followed his head, his gaze as it slowly faced forward, staring out onto the approaching warships. Maybe there were ten. Maybe there were a hundred. Maybe there was so much more he couldn’t see. “They will come for the shield generator. With it destroyed… Mount Bashenga will be theirs.”

“They will have the great power within the vibranium,” the Queen Mother Ramonda uttered.

“They will have the heart of the nation,” Nakia fearfully whispered.

“That’s not gonna happen,” Steve declared, already easing the growing anxiety just by the power and tone of his voice. The voice that inspired millions to turn against the face of tyranny more than seventy years ago. It still held the same strength as it did back then, perhaps even more so. Despite ripping off that star, despite abandoning the mantle as Captain America, the real Steve Rogers was still there. The same kid, the same man, the same fighter was still alive.

And Steve Rogers turned to them, assured them with one, single, powerful now. “We’ll defend the outer perimeter with our lives if we need to, Your Highness.”

Unfortunately, even the great Steve Rogers’ hopeful tone mattered little to the royalty. “It would be a short-fought battle, then,” Ramonda exclaimed, hands held tightly with one another, lips pursed even tighter.

“You don’t think we can handle a few alien bugs?” Natasha asked, an amused grin tugging at the edge of her lips.

“They won’t get through us,” Wanda growled, her irises flashing red for a brief but powerful second, the sound that was birthed from it sending chills across Ramonda’s skin. Daisy Johnson, arms crossed, slowly turned to Maximoff on her left. To the Scarlet Witch. She could practically feel the power from the woman radiating off her person. She wondered if Wanda could feel her power too.

“I think she means we won’t last forever,” Sam commented, eyes shifting to the Falcon. Watching as he observed the group, counting off in his mind and appearing only disheartened once he reached a number not even close to being satisfactory, they could see as he shook his head, turning to Steve. “And she’s right. We’re seriously understaffed.”

Understaffed. He didn’t know such a simple word could be so profound, so undeniably realistic. So utterly terrifying. Steve Rogers slowly let his head move on its own, following his instincts to the ones he could trust, the people he could call his friends, his team. His family. Perhaps there was no one else he could consider closer than Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, someone he could consider a sister. Despite their complicated past, where she stood in the disbanding of the Avengers, he still trusted her more than anyone. Then there was Sam Wilson, one of his closest friends becoming one of the most essential Avengers he could have by his side. Next to Natasha, Steve could trust no one else but Sam. Wanda Maximoff, raised as a survivor turned villain, Avenger turned fugitive, enemy turned friend. She was just as powerful, maybe even more, since the day he met her. There was no doubt that Wanda was one of the strongest Avengers on the team, and someone Steve would gladly fight through hell with.

Phil Coulson, Daisy Johnson, Melinda May, and the many more agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. came to them when they needed it most, when even the Avengers needed saving. Steve was practically enamored with Phil’s story, with Daisy’s powers, with everything S.H.I.E.L.D. had done since its collapse four years ago. And Phil was there. Daisy and May were there. They were there fighting and living and raising the banner of what S.H.I.E.L.D. was always meant to be. Because of that… Steve felt closer to them than he ever could have before. Fighting with Phil, fighting with S.H.I.E.L.D., it brought back memories of a time where he was still part of a real team. A real coalition. Those were the days.

Black Panther and his Wakandan army. Their city alone was proof of the raw power Wakanda had and proudly wielded. Even when they fought on opposite ends, even when he tried to kill his best friend, Steve could still admire the determination, the strength, the will of King T’Challa. He and his people would proudly live and die for the nation. For their people. And so would Steve. So would the Avengers, to do everything in their power to prevent the inevitable.

But they weren’t enough.

“Captain…”

Steve Rogers turned to it despite no longer acknowledging that title. He only saw Phil. The fan, the man, the agent, the survivor. The friend. The one who started it all, staring into Steve’s eyes with a look that meant nothing else… but one thing. Then he nodded. “It’s time.”

And it was. Time to end the war before it got out of hand. Time to stop the inevitable and turn the tides. Time for a united front against the forces of evil that sought to destroy them. Time to bring the Avengers back together.

“It’s time,” Steve repeated, slowly nodding in return. Phil Coulson smiled.

Steve spun around, taking off at a slow pace at first, one that only quickened when he was instantly trailed by the rest of his team. “Avengers, you’re with me. Phil, Daisy, May, on my tail. Your Majesties…” Steve said, pausing and spinning about to face the royalty of Wakanda once more. They stood and stared as he and those who walked with him froze just at the exit of the War Room. They all did, just standing and staring, the two sides facing one another with what could have been a thousand miles away.

Steve nodded to them. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you off to, Captain?” T’Challa asked, stepping forth alongside Nakia and Okoye.

Rogers faced the exit, sighed heavily, then turned back to Phil. He offered a warm smile, to which Steve finally returned. It shortly died, the First Avenger turning back to the Black Panther once again. “Off to set things right.”

He faced the exit. Took one step forward.

“Oh, and T’Challa…”

T’Challa, Okoye, Nakia, Ramonda, and all the Dora Milaje were silent.

Steve looked back one last time and said, “We need all hands on deck.”

It only took a second, just one second, for T’Challa to understand just what he meant. He nodded, watching as Steve and his allies exited the War Room, undoubtedly making their way to the runway. To the Zephyr One. To home.

All hands on deck…

Kissing Nakia softly, assuring her to stay with his mother for the time being, King T’Challa called to Okoye and the rest of the Dora Milaje, the remaining guards in the room not guarding the Queen Mother following their king right out of the War Room as well. “Are you sure he is ready?” Okoye asked, coming up fast next to her king.

The Black Panther clenched his fists and stared right into the darkness, saluted the guards by the exit, and growled, “The White Wolf has rested long enough.”