As Tony went through the portal, he was met by a sight that scared him; nothing but pure horror could describe what he saw.
He had thought the Chitauri nearly endless before, but now he truly knew what endless meant. Before him, filling the infinite void of space, was a host of Chitauri riders, leviathans, and massive spaceships enough to drown out entire worlds. What Earth was facing was nothing but a tiny fraction of what awaited them.
Should the portal not close, there would be enough Chitauri out here to crush the Earth just using their combined weight.
This wasn't something Earth could handle… A deep-seated fear, an existential dread, filled him as he beheld just how hopelessly behind Earth and humanity were.
"Sir! The suit wasn't made for a no-atmosphere environment. Please leave at once," Jarvis's urgent call made him snap out of it.
He quickly let go of the missile and blasted himself backwards as fast as he could, though he didn't have a whole lot of time as countless Chitauri were closing in on him from all around.
"Fuck it," he cursed as he blasted the missile, causing it to go off.
There weren't any massive fireballs and explosions; the amount of oxygen was quite low despite some rushing through the portal, so almost the entire force of humanity's greatest weapon was made powerless. Still, it released a powerful EMP wave that caused all the Chitauri chariots to spin out of control.
Tony couldn't help but be disappointed by how weak the greatest weapon of Earth was, barely killing anything at all. Indeed, Earth wasn't yet ready to fight in space… As he shot back towards the portal, he couldn't help but worry, worry and think about what could be done.
"Stark! Stark! You there!?" Steve's desperate voice came flooding the line as soon as he shot through the portal.
"I'm just taking a nap," Tony replied, too tired to move, not to mention that half his systems had been hit by the EMP wave and fried. He was honestly surprised anything worked after that. He couldn't help but be extra impressed by his own shielding work.
"Taking a nap!?" Steve nearly shouted over the comms. "Tony, stay awake—Tony!"
Tony didn't answer immediately.
Not because he was unconscious.
But because he didn't want to admit the truth.
He was falling.
Straight down.
Through smoke, debris, and broken sunlight.
Suit failing.
Boosters offline.
HUD flickering like a dying lightbulb.
"Jarvis…?" he muttered.
A worrying pause.
"…Still here, sir. Barely."
Tony exhaled a shaky breath.
"Good. Don't… don't let me splat."
"I will do my best, sir."
Another flicker.
Jarvis went silent.
The wind roared louder.
Gravity pulled harder.
The city grew clearer.
Tony stared at the ground.
"…Aw, crap."
He braced for impact.
Braced for pain.
Braced for—
WHAM!
Except instead of hitting pavement at terminal velocity…
He hit someone.
Someone who didn't budge an inch.
Someone who caught him like he weighed nothing at all and used their strength to offset the force of his fall, keeping him whole, if a little rattled.
"Geez," a familiar, cocky voice drawled, "you humans really build your armor like wet paper."
Tony blinked.
His HUD flickered back to life just long enough to show a helmet cam view of—
Mordred.
Flying through the air as she jumped off one leviathan to catch him before impacting another leviathan's face with enough force to make even the Hulk impressed.
The leviathan's skull crunched beneath Mordred's boots as she landed, riding the collapsing behemoth down toward the rooftops like it was nothing more than a giant skateboard.
Tony, still dangling from her arm like a glorified metal duffel bag, groaned, "Okay… I take it back… I am not a fan of Albion's roller coasters…"
Mordred laughed, loud and proud. "Oh please, Stark. You just rode a missile into space, this much is nothing compared to that."
Tony tried to lift his head. The helmet creaked. "I didn't enjoy that either."
Mordred snorted. "Then you aren't going to enjoy this," she said before suddenly throwing Tony into the air and using both hands to unleash a blast of red energy from her sword, then changing back into a one-handed hold and catching the screaming Stark.
Tony's scream cut off the moment Mordred yanked him back into her grip, one arm wrapping around his torso like an iron band.
"WHY—" he gasped.
"—THE HELL—"
"—WOULD YOU DO THAT!?"
Mordred grinned, entirely unbothered.
"Because you looked like you were about to pass out," she said cheerfully, "and I needed to check if you were still alive."
"THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO DO THAT!" Tony hissed, clutching at her pauldron as his new equilibrium decided to file a complaint.
Mordred shrugged. "Sure. But none of them are as funny."
Tony groaned. "I swear—one of these days—I'm installing a Mordred-proof setting—"
"You mean a feature that stops me from throwing you around?" she asked, raising a brow.
"Yes!"
Mordred snorted. "Good luck with that. If your armor can barely handle falling out of the sky, I seriously doubt it can handle me."
Tony gave her a look even his flickering HUD couldn't hide. "You know… you didn't used to be this smug."
"Oh please," Mordred scoffed. "That was because Father was around, and I'm not smug, I'm just great!"
She dropped from the shattered rooftop, using the falling debris as stepping stones to control their descent. Tony was spun, tilted, swung, and occasionally used as an improvised counterbalance. He wasn't sure whether to marvel at her control or be horrified at her idea of "gentle handling."
By the time they landed on a stable rooftop, Tony's stomach was somewhere near his throat.
Mordred set him down upright with surprising care.
"You alive?" she asked.
"No," Tony croaked. "I died somewhere around the second mid-air yeet."
Mordred rolled her eyes. "You really are dramatic for someone who willingly strapped himself to a nuclear missile."
"That was different," Tony muttered.
"Sure it was." She rolled her eyes as she looked back out at the battle. Countless enemies still came to reinforce the ones they cut down. "You good here alone? I don't feel like babysitting you all day."
"Yeah, I'm good." As if on cue, a silver capsule streaked out of the smoke behind them, braking hard with retrojets as pieces began unfolding. Tony let out a relieved breath. "Yeah. That's the recall system."
"Alright, I'm off to break some shit!" Mordred shouted before jumping off with enough force to shatter the roof she stood on, nearly causing Tony to fall down into the room below.
-----
Thor heard the familiar roar before he saw the owner of it.
"CHARGE, BROTHERS! FOR ASGARD!"
A massive Chitauri brute was sent flying past him, cleaved nearly in two. The style of the strike, the booming laughter, the terrible footwork—
Thor grinned widely.
"VOLSTAGG!"
The giant warrior spun, eyes widening before his face lit up brighter than the Bifrost itself.
"THOR! BY THE NINE—YOU'RE NOT DEAD!"
Thor blinked. "I was never dead."
Volstagg jogged over, armor dented and beard soaked in alien guts. "Aye, but we were certain you were shoveling mortal filth for the rest of your long, tragic life!"
Thor groaned. "Why does everyone assume that?"
"Because," Fandral said as he somersaulted over a collapsing wall, landing flawlessly beside them, "you were BANISHED. To MIDGARD." He gestured dramatically at the burning city. "We assumed the worst. And by the worst, I mean manual labor."
"We truly did," Hogun added bluntly as he decapitated a Chitauri. "I pictured you carrying barrels. Or bricks."
Sif arrived last, blade dripping blue blood.
Her eyes softened—just for a moment—before she scowled.
"Thor," she said. "You look well-fed."
Thor frowned. "Is that… an insult?"
"It is an observation," Sif retorted. "We thought you were living in a mortal barn, eating scraps, sleeping on straw. But you—" she jabbed his breastplate with her sword hilt— "you look like you've been feasting."
Thor coughed. "Camelot is… accommodating."
"We heard that, but we still worried when we saw how close she was with that snake Loki," Volstagg barked, swinging his axe hard enough to carve a Chitauri brute in half.
Thor cleared his throat. Loudly. "If you must know, I once dragged a wagon of trash, yes," he admitted with wounded dignity. "But that was long ago."
Volstagg gasped in delight. "HA! I knew it!"
Hogun nodded solemnly. "A prince must learn humility somehow."
Thor ignored them. "Recently, I have been fighting in the arena." He puffed out his chest. "I am champion among the mortal fighters!"
The Warriors Three froze mid-battle.
Fandral blinked. "Arena… as in a pit for entertainment?"
"A death arena?" Hogun asked.
"Did… did mortals force you to fight for their amusement!?" Sif demanded, fury cracking through her tone like thunder.
Thor quickly held up both hands. "No! No, nothing like that!"
Then he paused…
Then scratched his cheek.
"…Well… it is for entertainment. But not in a cruel way. It was glorious battle! And I won! Many times!"
Volstagg shook his head slowly. "So while we imagined you shoveling manure… you were actually becoming a gladiator hero?"
Thor nodded proudly.
Sif glared at him. "You couldn't send a single message saying you weren't dead, enslaved, or eating mud!?"
Thor winced. "It wasn't like I could send a letter, and Loki knew, his guards all knew, and I'm sure Mother knew as well."
Another wave of Chitauri dived at them from above.
Immediately, battle formation snapped into place around Thor—
Sif at his left,
Hogun at his right,
Volstagg and Fandral guarding the rear.
As they fought, Sif leaned toward him, voice low.
"And this King of Camelot—did she treat you well?"
Thor hesitated for a moment, thinking of Arthuria's calm strength… her sharp gaze… her relentless expectations… her kindness hidden beneath duty…
He nodded softly. "Yes. She did."
Sif's expression shifted—annoyance, relief, curiosity, and something else he couldn't read.
Volstagg laughed. "HO! Then Camelot is lucky to have you!"
"And now," Fandral added, driving his blade into a leviathan's jaw, "Asgard is lucky to have you back."
Thor raised Mjolnir high, lightning exploding outward.
"For Asgard!"
"For Camelot!"
"For Midgard!"
The five warriors charged together, roaring as one, carving a path through the alien horde.
Thor had never felt more himself.
Never felt more alive.
This was the war he wanted, not for glory, but to fight for others, to protect others. Those he loved and cared for all required one to be willing to fight for it.
But clearly, it also required much more than just that: the wisdom to avoid war when one could.
He knew it wasn't his desire for war that made him worthy of Mjolnir once more, but his desire to stop wars, his regret over a war happening, his fear of losing others, and the resolve to fight—to face the battle to shield others. That was the key.
And so, surrounded by his friends, he threw himself into battle. With Mjolnir in his hands, thunder and lightning at his side, he would defend Midgard, he would protect his friends, and he would bring peace!
(End of chapter)
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