Infinity Era

by JDPrime22

Chapter 189 – The Real Heroes

The time of celebration was not yet fulfilled. Under the blinding rays of the piercing gray clouds, with the sun’s light nearly concealed to the world, all was stilled into silence as the caravan made its way down the street in Washington, D.C. Despite the crowds of packed civilians, despite young and old, spared and vanished all reuniting once again, there was no time for celebration. That somber atmosphere filled the mourning storm within everyone’s hearts, upon every face and choking every voice into silence.

An armed platoon of uniformed guard led the caravan of horse-drawn carriages. They were three in total, the battalions of guards covering each carriage from the front and back. Rifles were jutted upwards in their white gloved-hands, peaked caps gracing each head, and concrete faces exemplifying the highest respect and honor of the United States military—of all the world’s militaries—in giving the real heroes their final farewell.

Many world leaders joined the masses in America’s capital that day, thousands upon thousands uniting as one exemplifying force of peace and strength throughout all the world, and even to the world of Equus above. Many other rulers of Equus were present, the vast and multicultural species standing together alongside humanity. Many dragons, griffons, changelings, Hippogriffs, and Pegasi filled the air above many heads, while so many other ponies, zebras, Kirin, felines, and several others filled the crowds beside the street. Everyone wore dark clothing in mourning, in respect, and in honor of the fallen.

The caravan moved slowly and steadily down the street towards Arlington National Cemetery, guards marching the horses forward, each of the three carriages carrying a simple coffin. On each of the black caskets, an American flag was draped over them, with guards behind each carriage holding similar flags in their arms. The first carriage held that of an American patriot, a symbol to the nation and to the world as a whole of the freedom he exemplified, the duty and loyalty above all else ensuring his place amongst his fellow heroes from generations ago. American flags blew softly in the rain-streaked wind beside his casket, the many mourners and onlookers holding out their miniature flags and waving them softly as his carriage passed. Retired soldiers of wars past and present rose from their chairs, every last one of them saluting the lead casket.

Leading his Avengers one last time, Captain Steven Rogers finally found his rest amongst the honorable farewells sent his way.

Behind him, similar American flags graced a much larger coffin, a coffin only belonging to a certain Doctor Robert Bruce Banner. Though he had earned most of his legacy as that of a monster, his final days on Earth earned him a different legacy. A hero and figurehead of the science community, a leading, brilliant scientist of the United States and the world. And an Avenger who gave his safety, his peace, and his life not only for the survival of the universe, but for every life joining the funeral that day. The many who were taken were only standing alongside their loved ones once again because of that man, because of Banner’s selfless sacrifice. The man once seen as a monster was given a slew of tearful expressions as his casket moved on by. It was all the many thousands who were saved by him could offer.

In the final carriage, the one ending the caravan, it was slightly different from the others. Not only did American guards follow the final carriage with flags in hand and blowing softly above them, but Russian armed guard marched in accordance with the Americans. The Russian and American flags flowed together in that misty morning, yet only the red, white, and blue graced the face of the last coffin. In that last coffin, Natasha Romanoff earned her final rest with two nations joined in metaphorical hand. They marched and watched together as her coffin joined the other Avengers to a deserved end. And Natasha, despite her past, was given a hero’s goodbye. From both her homelands.

There was no family behind her coffin. Just the drenched winds encompassing both the Russian and American flags from the hands of the respective guards.

Behind Banner’s coffin, relatives, close friends, and family members flowed together. From his cousin Jennifer Walters to even Thaddeus Ross and his daughter Elizabeth. They stayed as one, flowed down the street until they reached Arlington National Cemetery where they were instructed respectively to stand aside and let the many guards lay the coffin to rest in the earth. The three were unloaded, carried over to their personal pocket of land reserved solely for Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Three large tombstones were made. Just three.

The final words were given to each, starting with Natasha Romanoff and lingering on Bruce Banner. Betty Ross, breaking away from her father’s side, stepped up to Bruce’s casket. Her limbs were trembling, eyes swelled with tears as she took in that weak and shivering inhale. She laid her palm atop the black coffin’s cool surface, rested it there momentarily, and closed her eyes. She imagined what a life together could have been with him. She imagined all the mistakes and decisions she made by falling in love with him, losing him, and standing by his side one last time.

After all was said and done, she would have given anything for a second chance. Yet all she could do was say her last goodbye. Her hand slowly fell away, her body drifting back by her father’s side and leaning next to him for support. He draped his arm across her shoulder, his heavy and gracious eyes settling on Banner’s coffin. Though his daughter had made many mistakes—like he had—what she had with Bruce was not one of them. The Ross family name had much to rectify. Thaddeus had much to fix for the Avengers and for the Accords, and it was all due to the efforts of one man and one team.

One redeemed hero who had changed Ross’ heart for the better.

As for Steve Rogers, he was given the highest honors of any war hero. The American honor guard by his casket raised the flag, folded it accordingly, and laid it in the hands of all but one. One of the generals of the U.S. armed forces steadily approached the woman in black, turning to face her and holding out the folded flag.

In honor of one captain to the next, Carol Danvers took the flag and nodded gratefully. He raised his arm and saluted her, Carol slowly responding with one in return. Near Danvers, Sharon Carter and many other agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. stood together and watched as Carol turned to face the casket of her fallen Avenger. She gingerly held the folded flag between her hands, eyes heavy and burning as she lowered her head.

A thundering showcase of rifle volley filled the air, joined shortly by a fleet of military jets zooming across the skies over Arlington. Nearly the entire cemetery was crowded to its brim, yet the epicenter of the burials was filled with close friends and families. The many Avengers who had lived throughout the darkest day in humanity’s existence stood tall and together, in unity, assembled to say farewell to their fearless leaders. They were joined by the dozens of Equestrians, from Captain Spitfire and her Wonderbolts all decorated in esteemed uniforms and saluting to the three caskets. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna were present alongside Princess Cadance and Shining Armor, all of them wearing some form of black regalia. As did Starlight Glimmer, Sunset Shimmer, Spike, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight Sparkle.

They all watched in unity, in tears, as the three caskets were lowered to the depths of the earth. Rarity raised a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes as Applejack removed her hat and laid it over her heart. Fluttershy cried quietly as Pinkie Pie whimpered pitifully by her side, the Pegasus draping her wing over the mare’s withers. Rainbow Dash stared nowhere else but onto Steve’s coffin, stared for as long as she could before it vanished into the ground. Then, she shut her eyes. Then, the tears flowed free and she dropped her head, ears falling flat, as those streaks slipped down her snout. Twilight pressed her hoof gently against Rainbow’s own, holding her still and well, unable to hide her own wretched pain for the friends they had lost.

Amongst his fellow agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Phil Coulson held his vintage Captain America trading card limply in his hand, watching longingly, painfully, as his hero descended and ascended.

Asgardian soldiers stood at attention, the wisps of the ocean breeze blowing harshly against their cloaks, as the raging storms and callous waves clashed against the earth. With spears planted into the rock by their feet, the pair of Asgardians oversaw the rites and rituals of the funeral unfolding by the beachline.

Given all the highest honors of Asgardian culture, the final sendoff for their king and their Allfather was met with the mightiest accumulation of people New Asgard had ever seen. Armies of species ranging across the Eight Realms—from Midgard most of all, and even of Equus—those witnessing the funeral stood at attention, in silence amongst one another, as those closest to the throne stood by the boat.

Lady Sif, Valkyrie, and Loki oversaw the final preparations, with the rest of the Avengers, the Equestrians, and New Asgard surrounding the beachline and watching patiently as they worked. Korg and Miek stood side by side, with Trixie, Derpy, and Maud all present and accounted for alongside Twilight and her best friends. In each of their hands and hooves, they held a white lantern, the Asgardian runes inscribed on their faces meant to protect and guide the spirit of the fallen to his final and assured rest in Valhalla.

At last, they were ready to begin.

With resounding Norse singing filling the air from Asgard’s collection of women choirs, the soft and lovely and somewhat haunting melody of the many voices sent shivers down the spines of numerous bystanders. Violins were joined with the voices, creating a symphony of pain and loss, mourning and strife, and even peace. The voices spoke ancient Asgardian tongues, sending prayers to the Allfathers above to accept and unite their king with those in Valhalla. Standing high, Loki turned to Valkyrie and Sif, seeing the two nod to him and join his side. Together, they pushed the boat out into the ocean, the raging seas and wounded storms above crying out in pain for their loss. It was as if nature itself, the elements of it, felt the suffering of Asgard’s people, as if it couldn’t accept what had occurred and what was taken from them.

Yet in the end, it settled. Once the boat slipped between the ocean current, it all stilled as the body of Thor, God of Thunder, sailed off into eternal rest. He lay alone on that boat, hands resting over his heart and decorated with various treasures of the Asgardian people he left behind. With the peaks of stone overshadowing his boat, the storms thundered and wailed as their god sailed away. From the beachline, Loki stamped his spear into the rock.

An arrow was ignited and fired, the flame streaking across the skies and impacting the small vessel. A rising flame emerged from the boat, consuming the King of Asgard within its warmth and embrace for a final farewell into the realm beyond. Ashes of his past self burned away and his new spirit rose up from the boat, the golden flakes of light fading into the wind.

Lanterns were released at that moment, from the hands of the Avengers, the hooves of the Equestrians, and the hearts of New Asgard. The cries of the dragons filled the air alongside the Norse song of the storms, those wails of pain and suffering finally filling the masses once the boat drifted off into the fog, into the eternal, and disappeared. The golden lights of the lanterns followed it, the many hundreds dotting the skies and engraved with the fires of assurance, of peace, to a safe and final journey. Rarity took it the hardest, falling into Twilight’s awaiting hooves and her best friend comforting her to the best of her strength. Each mare shared their loss in a different and personal way.

But none took it quite as personal as Loki.

He stared onto the ocean’s surface and beyond still unable to believe what he had just done. That lingering pestilence in his heart wanted him to feel cold, yet he could feel only pain for the brother he had lost. After living a whole life in his shadow, Loki stood at that time, at that moment, under the light of the sun breaching through the clouds and shining upon all of New Asgard. No shadow blocked him. No shadow could contain the new King of Asgard.

“He would be proud of us,” Valkyrie said, stepping up to Loki’s side.

The God of Mischief cast her a lingering gaze, eventually nodding and facing the sunlight once again, endearing its warmth and sighing. “So I’m told.”

“Well,” Valkyrie said with a sad and lengthy sigh, “what’s our next step… Your Highness?”

Just hearing those words at long last felt… indifferent. Loki contemplated those thoughts, thinking of what Odin—his father—or Thor would have done to respond to such a question. Finally under the veil of that throne, of that power, there was so much Loki had planned and wanted to do with a proper and assured reign over Asgard. Yet for the first time in his life, he had no idea of where to go next. He had no path.

At least, he had no path where he would walk alone.

Turning to Valkyrie, he earned her attention and smiled cunningly her way. “You know… a king will need a queen,” he told her.

She raised a brow, smirking. Punching him. “Don’t push your luck.”

A single Quinjet descended from the clouds.

Upon that homestead, that peaceful and secluded farm seemingly frozen in time, the Quinjet approached it and landed with grace and precision upon the front lawn, upon the summer grass, and stilled into silence. The engines of the ship earned enough attention to get the front doors flinging open, the breathless expressions from Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel Barton landing on the falling ramp. Landing on the single body that stepped off of it and touched the grass with his own two feet.

After receiving his call, after waiting with bated and patient breath, the children simply could not hold back any longer. They did not wait for him to reach the porch. Cooper led the charge with Lila and Nathaniel running after him, the streaks of the sun coating the skies and breaking through the leaves of the tallest tree. Passing under that shadow, breaking into the sunlight, the children could not contain their joyous grins as they ran as fast as their legs could carry them into his awaiting arms.

Clint could hardly contain his flushing emotions as his oldest son was the first to impact him with a crushing hug, knocking his bag to the grass. His daughter was next, with his youngest son so vibrant and fighting so desperately across the lawn to reach his dad. Clint couldn’t help himself and fell to his knees, clutching all three of his kids with trembling arms. Feeling them press against him, hold him with shivering bodies, beating, living hearts, all but assured Clint that they were real. Their tribulations had given its fruit and Clint received it with open and loving arms. After five years of falling into that darkness of depression, loss, pain, suffering, and abandonment, Clint had found his place once more. He had found his world and would never fall from it again.

With his family in his arms again, he had his lifeline to that world.

In the center of that world, she emerged from the light and reached Clint with tears falling and her beautiful smile rising. He raised his eyes and lost his breath at the sight of her, his children breaking away and watching in stunned silence as their parents, once more, reunited. Laura Barton met her husband with an expression contorted in shaken joy, eyes burning and melting in clear strips down her cheeks as her hands rose to meet his own. Gracing Clint’s face in her palms, Laura felt that same embrace hold her tightly once Clint wrapped his arms around her.

Without a second more, they kissed and felt those years of suffering simply wash away in an instant, in that twinkling of the sun’s rays glowing upon them. For Laura and her children, it was but a moment in time. For Clint, it felt longer than five years. For both of them, it was an entire lifetime separated, a life neither wanted to experience alone again.

So, breaking away, the two continued to hold another in a closer hug, just relishing in the fact that they had done it. The Avengers had committed the impossible and achieved the greatest reward for their dauntless efforts. A loving family united again, standing as one out of the ashes and into the light of a new day. That was not taken from them. That was the victory that mattered most of all. That was the endgame that Clint and so many others had reached at long, long last.

In her arms once again, all Clint could think of was how he was able to achieve such a wonderful end, knowing he never could have had it not been for the efforts they all exemplified. Had it not been for his team’s sacrifice in the darkest hour, he would not be standing there with his children, his wife, and his old life returned to him. If it had not been for the selfless act of love from his best friend Natasha, Clint would not have lived to meet his family on that day. He would not be in the arms of his children or his Laura ever again.

All his thoughts reverted back to her. His ally. His Avenger. His best friend. Natasha once told him that his life made hers worth it. Her sacrifice in saving him was her final act of love to pay that debt that she never needed to pay, because Clint never wanted her to. The sacrifice, perhaps in her eyes, made her life worth it.

But Clint knew otherwise. In the arms of his wife, with his children coming to him once more and holding him tightly, finally reunited, Clint knew that her life was worth more than that.

It was worth everything.