Infinity Era

by JDPrime22


Chapter 69 – The First Wave

69

The Nation of Wakanda

The Golden City

3:21 p.m.

The Zephyr One soared downwards into the bustling metropolis, what remained of the Golden City’s populace fleeing in a mass exodus out of the city’s limits to safety within the snow-capped mountains.

The Milano trailed right behind the massive, jet-black plane, the Guardians of the Galaxy gazing in total awe to the scope and beauty of the capital city of Wakanda. The afternoon sun burned the skylines, unveiling the towering shield resting over the entire city, specks of darkness dotting the skies beyond the city.

Notable specks.

On further analyzation, the occupants of both the Zephyr One and the Milano realized they were warships, black and blue in color, colossal in size and scale. Chitauri Command Centers, numbering in the dozens, filled the air high above the capital city of Wakanda. Staring downwards, staring straight ahead, every Avenger, every Guardian, every Defender, every agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and everyone could see even more warships mere miles above the earth, circling the shield. Circling the Golden City with malicious intent.

The armies of Thanos were ready and waiting.

Steve stared at it for what felt like an eternity by the time the Zephyr One finally touched ground. What followed felt like more of a blur than anything else, bodies moving about, twisting, turning, voices ordering and calling for names. Steve just walked right through it all, almost blindly following the likes of Phil Coulson and Sam Wilson outside the Zephyr and onto the landing pad near the Royal Palace of Wakanda.

So many followed behind him. So many Avengers, Defenders, and agents. In the corner of his vision, Steve could see the Milano touching down on the free landing pad next to May’s Quinjet, an assortment of Wakandan jets and ships and machines of war prepped and ready for launch. Ready for the impending battle ahead. Steve faced ahead, almost unprepared for King T’Challa’s awaiting handshake.

He did not stand in his royal garb. Instead, T’Challa stood from toe to neck in his Black Panther armor, the seamless vibranium alloy sketched and fitted perfectly alongside his body and muscle structure. Steve’s gloved-palm met T’Challa’s, the two enhanced individuals meeting each other’s haunted gaze. Steve found some form of comfort in that, knowing he wasn’t facing the darkness alone.

“How much time we have?” he asked.

T’Challa broke away, his eyes still gazing into the face of death. “Not much. The impending battleground awaits out arrival. You will have my King’s Guard, the Dora Milaje, the Border and Jabari Tribes.”

Behind him, Okoye and Ayo responded with firm nods, gripping their vibranium spears alongside the other warrior women numbering in the dozens. Steve felt even more comfort in that, nodding in return. “Anything else?”

“How ‘bout a semi-stable hundred-year-old man?”

That voice was followed shortly by the coming of an old ghost, an old face, and a welcome old friend. Steve, Sam, Phil, and everyone who followed turned accordingly to see James Buchanan Barnes approach with a smile on his face, a sense of togetherness in his eyes. He wore a fresh pair of blue and green clothing, brown hair still as long as ever, and metallic arm still holding the bright red star of the Winter Soldier. His demeanor, his face, his very essence screamed anything but the past assassin, however. Steve grinned, stepping forth and wrapping his arms around Bucky’s figure, the two men meeting for a hug. Sam wrinkled his upper lip, but nonetheless offered a short smirk towards Barnes. Phil beamed at the sight, witnessing two living legends reunited.

Tony Stark looked literally anywhere else. Especially not at Barnes.

Breaking away, Steve patted James’ shoulder. “How ya been, Buck?”

“Ah, not bad,” the White Wolf stated with a shit-eating grin. “For the end of the world.”


Royal Palace of Wakanda, War Room

3:24 p.m.

“Everything’s ready… Large extraterrestrial presence over Wakanda, bigger than we’ve ever seen, Nick. We’re gonna hold ‘em here… Yes… Yes, I know. If all else fails… if everything goes to hell… just keep the Helicarrier ready. Thanks, Nick. Be in touch soon.”

Director Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. had a long and happy life. More so the former than the latter, if prior years could account for that. In all his years working in secrecy, living too many lives to count, and meeting extraordinary individuals every child dreamt of becoming, everything seemed so surreal for him. Back in the day, that is. Now, facing annihilation at the hands of the very monsters who attacked New York following his death—the same monsters who lived and breathed under the wrathful rule of the Mad Titan Thanos—Phil Coulson had just about run out of tricks up his sleeve.

All except for one.

He turned off his phone, cut off the call with Nick Fury, and pocketed the device.

Not many chose to stand with Phil. Most of everyone, of every hero, every vigilante, every soldier, every agent, and every warrior chose to take the fight straight to the Chitauri, leaving just a select few awaiting to watch the battle unfold from the best seat in the house. Those who stood with Coulson—gazing downwards through the towering glass windows—were Loki, Shuri, Leopold Fitz, Jemma Simmons, Deke Shaw, and the Queen Mother herself. Quite the unusual bunch, but a bunch who would not last long in a battle against the Chitauri. Loki especially, considering he would be their first target. Several other Wakandan Royal Guard remained by the queen’s side. No other tribal leaders remained within the War Room. All had retreated to safety outside of the city, being with the rest of their tribe, praying for all of Wakanda.

Queen Mother Ramonda gazed below, spotting M’Baku and the men from his Jabari Tribe meeting with Steve Rogers and his massive team. At least there were those still willing to defend the capital city of Wakanda, those who lusted for a fight, those awaiting to give their lives for their home.

She felt a palm on her shoulder and turned to see Phil Coulson gazing at her from her right side. “It’s all right, Your Majesty. Your city will be safe,” he assured her, the greatest amount of sincerity he could offer in his voice.

And all Ramonda could do was close her eyes, shake her head, and face forward. To the long, blood-soaked road ahead. “It’s not the city I’m worried about.”

Her eyes fell to her only son, the King of Wakanda speaking amongst the many who stood with him. Okoye, Ayo, M’Baku, Nakia, the Dora Milaje, the King’s Guard, the Jabari Tribe. The Avengers. Everyone. But most of all, she stared at T’Challa. She remained strong through the rising wetness building in her eyes, the shiver traversing her skin, her spine, her very soul at the mere thought of what was to come. And she stared mindlessly at it, praying. Praying.

The dropships fell from the Command Centers and proceeded to hit the ground outside the northwest section of the barrier. The Wakandan forces began to assemble, ships flying over to the soon-to-be battleground carrying tanks and warriors alike. And everyone followed.

Every Avenger and those who stood with them in the face of annihilation.

Except for those in the War Room, Queen Mother Ramonda praying with all she was.


Wakandan Fields

6.3 Miles Outside the Golden City

3:25 p.m.

All the armies of Wakanda flew across the skies, ships carrying massive battle tanks and carriers zooming across the African plains holding warriors and Avengers of every kind. Doctor Bruce Banner watched them all zoom past him for several moments, several minutes, as he tinkered away on the strewn body parts of the Mark 49 Iron Man armor. The Hulkbuster 2.0.

Stark heavily suggested it, called in Veronica before they even arrived to Wakanda and got everything settled down in the fields. Just in time for Bruce to be able to arrive by Zephyr One. The Avengers and agents dropped him off alongside the awaiting armor, leaving with him one very special friend to keep him company. To protect him.

Bruce found himself consistently turning his gaze back to Natasha time and time again.

He couldn’t help himself. He wanted his focus to diverge onto the armor, to get everything set on the suit that would keep him alive long enough to hold back Thanos’ army. But still, his eyes would trail away, rise up the slender legs, the sleek and armored body, and rest on the gorgeous expression of Natasha Romanoff. She was currently facing away and speaking with Steve via comms, only the side of her face visible to Banner, all that was needed to make his heart stand still.

He waited until she finished talking, lowered her hand from her ear and stood in the impending silence. “This is it,” Banner said to her, watching as she quickly turned to face him. Almost caught off guard, Natasha blinked, shook her head, and then offered a breathless exhale through a smile.

“At least we’re together again,” Natasha replied. Obviously referring to the Avengers being reunited, a small part of her really… didn’t mean that. A small part of her kept thinking back to times of past, of war, of pain like a kind she hadn’t felt in years. A kind that tore her heart to shreds, knowing the last she ever saw of Bruce Banner was the man's determined smile telling her goodnight, leaving her alone to return to his own room. Then he was gone the next morning. Took a Quinjet and left the planet.

And there they stood, mere feet apart but feeling like miles. That didn’t separate them, though, neither wanted it to. Bruce’s lips parted, as if he wanted to speak but nothing could leave him. Natasha smiled softly, a slight wind tugging at her white bangs.

“Yeah,” Bruce said, juggling the small device he used to fix up the armor between his palms. It was so wet, so completely covered in sweat that Banner knew most of it was from the coming conflict. He convinced himself of that. He shook his head, rising it to meet her eyes. “Listen, Nat, about leaving Earth, about being AWOL for three years, I just—”

“Bruce.”

He lost his voice. Lost his breath at the mere sight of her eyes meeting his once again.

“We can…” Natasha said, almost struggling herself. More pain from the past, stuff she kept down low, far beneath her soul… and even her heart. She held out her hand, seeming to pat that pain down with the others. “We can save that for later.”

All Bruce could do was nod, knowing she spoke only the truth. Only fact. Only the harsh reality.

“Hey, Beauty and the Beast!”

Both turned skywards to see Stark of all people hovering yards behind them, palms and feet ignited and keeping him airborne. His repaired Mark 50 armor gleamed and shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, the Arc Reactor burning bright blue over his chest, his eyes just as bright. “It’s show time! Suit up!” he shouted.

He flew off.

Leaving just the two.

Bruce faced Natasha once more, watched as she pulled out her twin batons and connected them, forming a short staff. Twirling it around, Natasha let the weapon rest in her right hand, a soft nod and an even softer smile sent Bruce’s way. “Suit up, Big Guy.”


6.5 Miles Outside the Golden City

3:28 p.m.

The dropships impacted the earth with such ferocity that it spewed dirt, fire, and death across the landscapes with each deafening impact. The fires spread and inflicted their travesty upon the forests on the outskirts of the shield barrier, sending pillars of smoke high into the air and blotching it in blackness.

The afternoon sunlight pierced the approaching clouds, a sickly golden and dark brown color infecting the bright blue skies, a horrifying darkness slowly overcoming the light. The Chitauri Command Centers hung in the air, dotting the skies, streams of fire escaping the massive cumulonimbus titans as more and more dropships struck the land resting just outside the barrier protecting the Golden City. Protecting the shield generator.

Ultimately protecting the Soul Stone.

The Wakandan army readied itself just inside the shield, a mere splotch of empty land separating Wakanda’s last defense from Thanos’ daring invasion forces. The Wakandan armies brought all they had to the table, holding little to nothing back. From the Golden, Jabari, and Border Tribes all lined up accordingly in massive battalions across the African plains, to Wakandan battle tanks arranged and resting directly behind the tribal warriors, to jets and ships hovering overhead and constantly focused dead ahead to the approaching enemy air forces, Wakanda had everything laid out in defense of their city. They even had rhinos of all things.

The Border Tribe stood with their beasts of war, the armored rhinos growling and shuffling from side to side, eager to meet their foes in battle. The Dora Milaje stood with their king, the Black Panther himself stepping forth and meeting M’Baku’s grip in a firm handshake. After M’Baku was finished inspiring his tribe’s men and women with a powerful, earthly chant of course, courtesy of the Jabari. The mighty Wakandan battle tanks settled themselves firmly onto the earth, each of their four, spider-like legs spread out and pushing the bodies of the tanks above the ground. The tanks’ barrels were all jutted forward, focused where the guns on each ship were pointed. Dead ahead. To the vast, empty plains where death, fire, and destruction would soon reign supreme.

Melinda May’s Quinjet zoomed across the skies, the Milano close behind and constantly patrolling just inside the perimeter of the massive shield barrier. Within the Milano, the only Guardians of the Galaxy present were Rocket—piloting—Groot acting as co-pilot even if he didn’t know a thing about flying, and Mantis, the alien woman not suited for warfare and choosing to remain safe in her seat as Rocket took command. May flew alone. She always worked better like that anyhow.

The Avengers stood alongside the King of Wakanda. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes all standing alongside King T’Challa. Steve wasn’t entirely sure how everyone felt about Bucky being labeled as an Avenger, but to hell with it anyway. Everyone was an Avenger that day. Steve would take as many heroes as he could. Further to Steve’s left, amongst the masses and even hovering above them, Tony’s team stood ready. Stark hovered alongside Rhodes in their individual, repaired set of armors. Banner stomped forth in his gargantuan juggernaut armor, the Hulkbuster 2.0, courtesy from Stark. Thor remained opposite to Stark, further away from any other Avenger, clenching his fists and focused only ahead, to the fight surely to fall upon them. Fighting his own battle. Lightning cracked overhead, the smell of rain burning Steve’s nostrils. And last but not least, the young and terrified Peter Parker stood, tried to stand beneath Tony Stark, not even his Spider-Man mask shielding the fear in the young man’s eyes.

Mixed within the masses, even standing on Steve’s right, the Defenders prepped themselves for the battle awaiting them. Daredevil gripped his billy clubs and gazed across the empty lands ahead of him, eyes uncertain beneath the red lenses of his devil mask. Jessica Jones was given similar gauntlets to that of Steve Rogers, similar shields strapped tightly around each forearm. She was even granted a set of vibranium armor from the Dora Milaje, intent on keeping her safe from harm considering her complete lack of defense for herself. The breastplate and armored leggings surprisingly didn’t suck like hell to carry around. For metal, it was surprisingly light. Jessica took what she could get, glaring alongside Luke Cage and Danny Rand to the towering dropships nearly hidden through the black smoke.

The Guardians that remained bound to the earth—unlike Rocket, Groot, and Mantis—were Quill, Gamora, Nebula, and Drax. Each held their respective weapons in hand, standing further down within their own group of badasses—or so only Quill imagined for themselves—gazing silently and watching Thanos’ forces mobilize. For Quill and Drax, it was just another day in the park. Probably the shittiest park in the galaxy, but a park nonetheless. For Gamora and Nebula, it meant more to them than that, noticing quickly the Outrider Dropships continuously falling from the heavens, knowing damn well who might be commanding the attack. Nebula tightened her fist around her Electroshock Baton. Gamora gripped Godslayer, eyes darting off in the direction of Mount Bashenga every other second.

Just in case anything tried to go for the Stone.

The agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., or at least those who chose to fight, were either mixed within the Avengers, Defenders, Guardians, and Wakandans or stood within the several firing squads remaining directly ahead of the Wakandan tribes. Frank Castle held his ground with the agents on the frontlines, even taking it upon himself to command said agents, each one of them equipped with assault rifles, shotguns, and sniper rifles. Perfect for long and short-range combat. Perfect for their situation. The Punisher himself held a massive light machine gun, or LMG for short. The M249 SAW. Bastard of a weapon, at least for those on the opposite end of the barrel. To Castle it was Christmas come early. He stood ahead every agent, every Avenger, every Wakandan. He stood as the lone soul first to experience the face of war itself. Behind him stood Lance Hunter, Bobbi Morse, Alphonso Mackenzie, Elena “Yo-Yo” Rodriguez, Deathlok, Piper, Davis, and many other faceless agents decorated in black S.H.I.E.L.D. armor.

Close to the Avengers, Robbie Reyes stood precariously next to the White Wolf, next to Bucky Barnes. Something within him—something he knew far too much of—begged for escape, sensing the great sin and guilt of the man standing by its right. Reyes ignored the Ghost Rider, the tightening of his fists being evidence of his internal struggles. Daisy Johnson stood alongside Black Panther, Ayo, Okoye, M’Baku, and Nakia, the agent being the bridge that brought both Avengers and Wakandans together. She liked to think that.

Steve stood with Bucky on his left, Jessica on his right, and Natasha and Daisy further down. He was afraid Tony might do something rash when he spotted Bucky, but was relieved to see Tony putting the past behind him. Like they all had. He couldn’t really tell where Stark was mentally with his mask constantly blocking his eyes and face from him. He stared straight ahead, alongside James Rhodes and Spider-Man, waiting for the imminent battle. He and Frank Castle did well to hide their emotions in Bucky’s presence. Steve kept a loose eye on Castle just in case.

Within that short moment of clarity, Daisy walked over to Robbie, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You all right to do this?” she asked, pure sincerity in her tone, not wanting Robbie to stand with them just so they could “use him”. Reyes was quick to respond, shaking his head.

Despite that, he said, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…”

Daisy could hear the sound of his gloves crying out as he continued to tighten his fists. He was struggling, fighting with the demon inside of him for reasons she didn’t understand, something she feared she never could be able to. Even then, Reyes breathed out through his nostrils, growling, “Let’s just show these freaks what happens when you mess with Earth.”

Lance Hunter wore an armored S.H.I.E.L.D. mask birthed for war, a large minigun resting in his hands. With belts of ammunition coiled around his feet, his wife-to-be Bobbi Morse was right by his side, trying to talk him out of it. The mask, at least. “Is the mask really necessary?” she asked, frowning his way.

“Is the call sign really necessary, Mockingbird?” Lance taunted. He turned his eyes to her, seeing Bobbi’s flattened expression, followed only by her worsening frown. “Of course it is, ‘cause Mockingbird is badass, just like the mask.”

Sighing at that, Mockingbird gripped her assault rifle and faced forward. One of the many reasons she tolerated and loved Lance was his enthusiasm. On her left, Mack stood ready with his Shotgun-Axe. It was exactly how it sounded, the head of an axe attached to the underbarrel of a pump-action shotgun. Standing with him was his girlfriend, the ever-ready Yo-Yo just waiting for the moment she needed to take off and speed things up.

They stood with several other faceless agents, brave enough to stand on the frontlines alongside Frank Castle, a man who knew war more than any of them combined. Behind the frontlines, Jessica Jones gazed forward with eyes riddled with dread. Her body ached, her mind quaked, and her nerves shivered to every fine point in her body. She looked away from the alien armada she was about to fight and down to the gauntlets around her arms, the Wakandan-made shields looking more like panther paws when she clenched her fists and they extended, showing three sharpened claws near her fists.

Sighing and dropping her arms, Jessica turned instead to the shimmering, bearded face of Captain America. Or Steve Rogers. Or whatever the hell he wanted to be called. He wore the same gauntlets, the same weapons that that Shuri chick gave Jessica. At least they were similar in one way. Part of her barely believed Steve, or Tony, or any one of the Avengers even thought she would be good enough to stand with the likes of them, with the likes of “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes”. To them, she was nobody, just another civilian granted extraordinary powers from God or whatever other being for shits and giggles. Jessica sighed again, lowering her head to the grassy ground beneath her.

And she heard herself say, “Why did you let me come here?”

She didn’t mean to. Part of her wondered why she would even open her mouth in the first place, let alone direct her voice to someone like Captain America. But even then, it was too late to change anything. He was staring right at her, his ancient eyes meeting hers. “I’m not a soldier,” Jessica continued, mentally slapping herself for continuing. “I’m not a hero. I’m not like any of you.”

Jessica wanted to pull at her own hair, kick her own ass for trying to talk to them, for trying to find some form of mutual ground with those so high and mighty above her. But she talked anyway, that resilience continuously fighting and beating back the rage and the demon inside of her that demanded for seclusion, for isolation, for…

“No…” Steve uttered in response, a tiny gasp leaving her. She stared right at Rogers, his own gaze falling to the dirt. Just like her. Then he stared into her eyes again. “But you were willing to stand up for what was right.”

Jessica scoffed. “Barely.”

Steve pressed on. “But you still did it. You’re still here, still standing with us. That ‘barely’… is still enough. And even if you give just enough, then that right there… that shows you’re a hero.”

Jessica faced away, faced the terrifying road ahead. “Trust me, boy scout… I’m no hero.”

Unnerving silence filled the air between them, not even the sounds of the fires burning, or the armies growing, or the earth erupting could pierce through it. Another demon trying to break out, fight its way out of what Jessica had stowed deep down inside her heart and mind. Something she didn’t want to bring up, but for some reason…

“I knew this kid…”

Just did.

Steve turned back to Jones, stared silently and listened intently. She seemed to be shivering, on edge, as if the words physically hurt her when pronouncing and muttering. She whispered, “Vido… God, such a great kid. Annoying as shit, but still… really nice. He was probably your biggest fan. He always asked… if I ever knew you.”

Steve could have sworn to God he saw a tear in her eye. Maybe it was the smoke in the air. Maybe it wasn’t. “Guess that shit doesn’t matter anymore now that he’s dead,” Jessica sniffled.

Then stiffened when she felt a warm palm on her left shoulder. Turning to it, shakily glaring at it, Jessica followed the glove, spotted the Wakandan gauntlet, and met the eyes of Steve Rogers once again. She would have never admitted it, but Jessica Jones found comfort from the warmth in his eyes. Peace. Serenity. The horrors and grief from the past didn’t even seem to matter anymore. Just him, Captain America, the hero smiling to her. Seeing his equal.

“Thank you for standing with us,” he told her.

Jessica didn’t move his hand away. “I didn’t have much of a choice,” she responded, forcing herself to look away.

Steve stared straight ahead, straight into the heart of madness and the battleground for the fate of the universe. He saw the Chitauri Command Centers numbering in the dozens, the dropships erected out of the earth and the fires billowing within the African forests. All separated from them by just a simple shield. A shield that could break. Just like them. He may have exemplified the true stature of a soldier, a hero, a fearless leader on the outside, but deep within… he was terrified. He never really showed that before, and now was no different.

He let his hand fall from her shoulder, Jessica turning to him.

He proceeded forward when he saw the three figures emerge from the tree lines and approach the shield. Steve sighed, “We never do.”


6.6 Miles Outside the Golden City

3:29 p.m.

Several Chitauri warships surrounded the Golden City, just outside and several miles above the shield, some near the upper atmosphere, but all of them focused on one goal: destroy the Golden City’s shield generator by any means necessary. Kill anything that got in the way. An easy mindset to implant and inflict upon the pets of Thanos. Speaking of the Mad Titan, Thanos’ personal ship—Sanctuary II—and several Chitauri warships continued to release more and more Outrider Dropships from the upper atmosphere.

Until a little more than a dozen filled the land outside the barrier protecting the capital city.

From those dropships came Cull Obsidian, Corvus Glaive, and Proxima Midnight. Together, the three members of the Black Order, three of Thanos’ children, approached the towering, light blue shield. Midnight sneered at the shield resting before her, dragging her blade across its surface, spurts of electricity dancing across the edge of her weapon. The connection was lost the moment she brought her blade downwards to rest by her side, her eyes wandering up to meet three particular individuals, two of which she nearly hissed at to see once again.

Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and T’Challa confronted the three siblings. Unlike Steve, T’Challa, and pretty much everyone else present for their confrontation, Natasha Romanoff smiled at them. Glaive and Midnight growled softly at that. “Still sore from last time?” Natasha said, smirking at Midnight’s reaction to that, the Black Order member keenly remembering her last encounter with the Black Widow and her allies.

Corvus stepped forth for his wife, declaring, “These feeble defenses mean nothing. With your shield generator gone, Thanos will have that Stone.”

Black Panther shook his head, stating firmly, “You are in Wakanda now. Thanos will have nothing but dust… and blood.”

Cull Obsidian growled, his fist clenching the handle on his chain axe even further. It was Proxima’s turn to smirk, Natasha’s brow furrowing at that. Her expression seemed to falter, only slightly, especially with the words that left Midnight.

“We…” the child of Thanos hissed, smiling at Natasha, Steve, and T’Challa, murder in her eyes, “… have blood to spare.”

On that remark, Proxima affirmed her statement by jamming her arm in the air, her blade held to the sky, a powerful grunt leaving her.

That wasn’t all that followed.

The Outrider Dropships proceeded to open, the three defenders of Wakanda gazing skywards to see the towering dropships beginning to break apart, the faces of each unveiling what they carried. The blood, as Midnight put it, had been allowed to flow free. They fell from within the hulking dropships numbering in the dozens, screeching, crying, roaring, and shrieking as they fell into the trees and impacted the earth. Even higher above, the Chitauri Command Centers all roared in unison, a powerful horn crying out to the battlefield below, to the heavens above. The Chitauri unleashed their army into the skies, the chariots and starships numbering in the hundreds, plaguing the cloud-filled skylines until there was very little blue left in it.

All while Steve, Natasha, and T’Challa returned to their allies.

“You guys got back here fast,” Jessica noted, turning from Natasha to Steve, then back to the Black Widow.

“Speed walking helps,” Natasha replied, trying to smile, trying to do much of anything other than show the nervous chill race across her skin at the events unfolding before her.

“Did they surrender?” Murdock asked, gazing straight ahead, seeing the roaring fires but hearing and experiencing so much worse. So much that would befall them. So much so that he basically answered his own question.

Steve answered it anyway and tilted his head, not really shaking it but offering nothing comforting in return. “Not exactly.”

They saw, everyone did, as Proxima Midnight slashed at the air, bringing her sword firmly down by her side. Grunting out her only order, not a word to be spoken. None needed.

The Chitauri flooded the skies, diving forward and firing relentlessly from their chariots and starships right into the shield. They did little damage, nowhere close to piercing the shields, thus easing a few tensions amongst the Wakandans, Avengers, and so many more. But what came forth from the tree lines, what broke out and rose together in a stampede so massive that it blotted the lands surrounding the forest were an army of alien hounds, twisted and feral creatures with four arms, black and golden skin, and no eyes in sight. Their jagged teeth hung in their maws, claws tearing at the earth and proceeding forward with only one goal implanted in them, one single mission they would see to their very end.

Breach and destroy.

Kill everything.

Even themselves if need be.

That’s exactly what they did. The army of Outriders proceeded to drive themselves into the face of the shield barrier, the raw electricity coursing through their bodies upon impact and frying them instantly. That didn’t stop them. Nothing did. More and more Outriders continued to pelt themselves against the shield, their burning corpses lying in bundles surrounding the edges of the shield. They only continued to grow. The shield continued to hold.

Neither lasted forever.

Even the Chitauri waited outside and watched as the Outriders impacted the shield, a select and lucky few even managing to push through and break through the weakened shield, ultimately ripping themselves apart in the end. Their torn bodies lied as burning husks inside and out of the shield.

“They’re killing themselves,” Okoye whispered, nearly feeling her skin turn green at the sight.

“Fodder,” T’Challa growled, eyes glaring to the massacre he and his allies witnessed on Wakanda’s lands.

From beyond the barrier, Proxima Midnight smiled with sinister intent, the army of Outriders pouring forth from the tree lines, stampeding past her, and driving themselves into the shields. Again and again. No stop. No other deliberate intent other than to charge, die, breach, and repeat.

A few managed to breach through the weakened barrier, charging ahead as if nothing had even affected them. As if they didn’t feel pain. They screeched and charged blindly ahead, with an intent only to decimate and destroy anything in their path. The Black Panther saw every single one that had survived. “Castle!” T’Challa shouted.

That was his cue. The Punisher fell to one knee, shot out his LMG, and roared, “On my mark!”

The agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. who stood with him; Lance Hunter, Bobbi Morse, Mack, Yo-Yo, Deathlok, Piper, Davis, and many other faceless agents all readied themselves. Assault rifles and snipers were raised, the large firing squad above the Wakandan army ready and waiting. Ready and waiting for Frank Castle. The Punisher glared down his line of sight, hands gripping the LMG so tight the weapon shivered. But he remained still when it mattered.

Right when he bellowed, “Fire!”

They did. Lance Hunter’s minigun spun to life, roaring so loud and so profound that it lit up the landscapes of Wakanda with light and bullet shells. Unloading and unleashing everything they had, the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. picked their targets appropriately, firing bursts or single shots from their weapons onto the charging aliens. Outriders dropped left and right, the bullets shooting over, past, and right through them in devastating streams of orange and yellow. Frank Castle, leading the assault, merely fired bursts from his LMG, conserving as much ammunition as possible for the mighty army resting before him. Every single one of his bullets hit, every single Outrider in his line of sight dropping and dying instantly.

The firing squad ceased momentarily, taking the moment to reload. Black Panther heard the silence follow, shouting out his next order. The line of Border Tribe that stood with him whipped their cloaks out in front of them, creating a shimmering shield line of pure energy. The Dora Milaje from behind them jutted out their vibranium spears, the ends pointed like the ends of gun barrels. The Black Panther grunted another order, then watched the lights soar.

Bolts of energy were fired from the spears, directly and safely over the heads of the firing squad of agents and impacting the grounds where the Outriders ran. The bolts of energy did even more damage than the bullets, but that didn’t stop the White Wolf from unloading his magazine right into every alien he saw. That didn’t stop Falcon and War Machine from flying straight into the carnage, unleashing rounds upon rounds of ammunition right into the charging beasts of war. Even Banner aided, pointing the Hulkbuster’s palms forward and firing streams of repulsor blasts that decimated one Outrider to the next.

Everyone else waited. And watched.

Sam Wilson flew mere yards above the ground, unloading his Steyr SPP magazines down onto the aliens. A single Outrider leapt upward, slashing at the air Sam once occupied. “You see the teeth on those things?!” Wilson shouted, dodging and flying off.

“All right, back up, Sammy; you’ll get your wings singed,” James Rhodes warned. The War Machine flew just near the edge of the shield, dropping bombs right from the back of his armor. The bombs impacted the ground where the Outriders were entering, erupting and scorching the lands until they were nothing but plumes and pillars of inferno. Very few Outriders made it out, the flames clinging on and eating their bodies.

The onslaught continued, Thanos’ army gaining more ground than it was losing soldiers. The agents, Wakandans, and Avengers continued to fire everything they had, bullet shells filling the grasslands, bolts of energy pelting and burning the dead grass, killing any Outrider that got in the way. When their magazines ran empty, requiring a fresh reload, Frank Castle was the first to notice the Outriders trying to go around. The agents behind him started to notice it. Everyone noticed it soon enough.

“They’re flanking us!” Punisher roared, reloading his LMG as fast as he could.

“Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and destroy the shield generator then there’s nothing between them and the Infinity Stone,” Banner explained. The glowing yellow of the Hulkbuster’s eyes turned to face Rogers, the hardened expression of the man gazing straight ahead, seeing only one option left for them.

“Then we better keep them in front of us.”

Okoye turned to Steve, then to her king, wishing to understand how it was possible. “How do we do that?” she asked.

And T’Challa appeared no different than Steve on that decision, that choice. He appeared even more grave, even more hardened. Knowing exactly what needed to be done. Turning to Okoye, his eyes said it all, Okoye finding no comfort in them. “We open the barrier,” he stated, facing forward and raising his finger to rest just over his ear. “On my signal… open northwest section 17.”

Requesting confirmation, my king. You said open the barrier?

“On my signal.”

“This will be the end of Wakanda,” M’Baku growled, gripping his club with a shivering fist.

“Then it will be the noblest ending… in history,” Okoye whispered, her voice as sharp as the vibranium spear she held proudly.

Steve clenched his fist, his Wakandan shield enlarging and sharpening on every edge. Jessica Jones’ chest rapidly began to rise and fall, the Private Eye shortly doing the same with own gauntlets. The Punisher and the agents continued to fire, looking back every now and again to T’Challa. The Black Widow gripped her staff in her right hand, eyes narrowing and glaring daggers right down the body-filled battlegrounds. Glaring right at Proxima Midnight doing the same. Peter Quill pressed the side of his face, his mask materializing in a wave of blue, the reds of his eyes igniting to life. Iron Man clenched his metal fists, the orbs of light further brightening with pure, repulsor energy. Peter Parker gulped.

“Yibambe!” T’Challa bellowed.

The Punisher froze. The agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. all slowly twisted their heads around.

Yibambe!” the Wakandans responded in kind. In one, harmonious chant. More than a chant. It was a call. A call to arms. To battle.

Every Wakandan lowered their cloaks and gripped their spears, brandished their swords, and hardened their glares.

Morse abandoned her assault rifle, whipping out her dual batons as she gazed dead ahead, the wind pulling at her long, blonde hair. Hunter tightened his grip on the handles of his minigun, eyes narrowing beneath his metallic mask. Mack cocked his shotgun, glaring down the barrel of it, watching the approaching Outriders number in the dozens. And only grow from there. Yo-Yo Rodriguez tightened her metal fists, nearly standing on her toes, ready to take off and be back at any second. Deathlok readied his forearm rocket launcher, Piper and Davis gripping their assault rifles like they were their lifelines. Frank Castle stared nowhere else except down the barrel of his light machine gun, his fist shivering as he clenched his weapon tighter and tighter.

“Yibambe!” King T’Challa shouted.

The Avengers stood ready, every single eye focused straight ahead. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Thor, and Bruce Banner. James Rhodes and Sam Wilson returned shortly, hovering alongside their team. Their allies. Their family.

Yibambe!” the Wakandans cried, slamming their spears into the earth, shaking the very foundation of Wakanda just by their voice.

The Defenders glared dead ahead, Luke Cage and Danny Rand looking to one another, each only nodding once. Danny tightened his right fist, the gold shimmering brightly in his knuckles. Jessica Jones took one step forward, one step that took her breath away. And Daredevil… just stood there. Stood and listened. Waited. Heard T’Challa’s heartbeat rapidly increase every second.

“Yibambe!” Black Panther screamed, his throat bleeding.

The Guardians of the Galaxy were ready. Star-Lord whipped out his Quad Blasters, twirling them, gripping them tight, ready to show Thanos and his goons what happened when someone messed with the Guardians. Drax, Gamora, and Nebula all stood with him, weapons in hand, ready for the world to fall on top of them.

Yibambe!” every Wakandan roared, chanted, cheered.

Everyone was ready.

Absolutely everyone ready with the sun on their backs. The world on their shoulders. The very universe itself gazing down and watching…

Watched as the Black Panther stepped forward. “Wakanda forever!”

T’Challa unsheathed his claws.

Iron Man shot right off the ground.

James Barnes cocked his M249 SAW.

Daredevil connected his billy clubs.

Robbie Reyes ignited. The Ghost Rider roared.

The Black Panther’s mask materialized over his face.

Wakanda forever!”

They charged in unison, in one conglomerated army of Avengers, Defenders, Guardians, agents, vigilantes, Wakandans, and most importantly… heroes. Every single one of them. Their army was so massive it filled the lands that burned, trampled the bodies that lay in shreds from bullet and blaster wounds, and charged straight ahead into the chaos. Those that flew took to the skies, Iron Man and War Machine leading with Falcon, the Milano, and May’s Quinjet shortly behind. Together, all of them led the Wakandan jets and ships into the heart of madness itself.

Daisy Johnson and Ghost Rider ran alongside the White Wolf, Black Panther, Ayo, Okoye, M’Baku, and Nakia, the many more Avengers, Defenders, and Guardians right by their side and charging into battle. Frank Castle’s eyes shot open, the Punisher standing straight up and shooting out his hand into the air, waving everyone forward.

“That’s the signal! Go, go, go!”

The Punisher and the agents charged alongside them, some even leading, running and firing their weapons onto the approaching Outrider swarm. The Wakandan battle tanks lifted their barrels into the air, firing barriers that landed several yards ahead. Each barrier dug into the earth, the vibranium metal forming protective shields erecting right out of the ground. Several agents slid forward, using them for cover as they continued to fire, watching as the army of Wakandans rushed past them. Frank watched them all rush past him in a swarm so massive it rivaled that of Thanos’ forces.

Black Panther raised his wrist, shouting, “Now!”

The shields were opened upon his order, the Chitauri and Outriders pouring into the Golden City’s lands like blood out of a fresh wound. Hundreds of chariots filled the air, starships flying in and unleashing complete and utter hell upon the earth and in the skies. The Outrider General screeched, jamming one of its six arms directly ahead. Directly to the oncoming army. Its wave of Outriders stampeded past it, numbering in the hundreds.

Each army nearing the end, facing the beginning, experiencing everything that came with it.

T’Challa and Steve Rogers raced ahead, daring to be the first two to meet the army head-on.

Only they weren’t. They turned to the skies to see them darken. To hear the thunder…

Thor shot right into the air, leaping from the very earth with shards of lightning raining down from the heavens, from the armies of clouds building around him. With his last eye a fierce, electric blue, Thor screamed and drove his fist into the earth, bringing with him the wrath of the God of Thunder upon his foes.

And they all heard him.