Mischief on Midgard

Before the Storm

It was the quiet after the storm...

Or... wait. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

Tony wasn't sure what to call it. He only knew that things were way too quiet as their jet left the battlefield behind. No one was talking. Usually, they were a mess of chit-chat and conversation as they tried to talk over each other in their excitement of a job well done. Now, though?

It was a somber quiet that filled the jet today.

Clint was laid out on his back. Despite the field dressing, the wound on his side looked exceptionally nasty. Natasha was at his side, hovering like a mother hen and making sure he stayed awake. Thor seemed to be lost in thought and Bruce? Bruce was sitting still, eyes closed with his head resting against the wall. A headset lay over his ears, soft music playing to help calm his and the Hulk's nerves after a long, drawn-out fight.

They had all gotten more used to the Hulk over the past few years and had figured out various ways to help both him and Bruce. Still, it wouldn't be good for Bruce to transform with them so high in the air. Hulk's weight alone would cause the jet issues.

As such, Tony was alone in his own head. Not a good place to be some days. Rob's words were still ringing inside of his head, 'Tony, you id-there's something behind you!' The other man had sounded legitimately frightened and concerned for Tony's well-being. Something that was so very unlike Robert's usual uncaring attitude.

Even during their more intense battles, Rob was usually so nonchalant. Hell, that was probably a part of what made him such an excellent observer and analyst. He would give his opinion on things the way he saw them, without bothering to waste time trying to sugar-coat the situation. He didn't get distracted by emotions or sentimentalities, either. Natasha had once told the team that he showed behaviors typical of a functional sociopath. Tony had voiced his surprise, only to get called out on his own attitude. He, too, showed signs of a functional sociopath... or rather, he showed signs of being an adrenaline-junkie, half-drunk, semi-functional sociopath.

Thanks for that, Nat, Tony thought to himself.

Still, back to Robert's words. The way he had said them, shouted them. It was enough to send yet another cold shiver down Tony's spine. What didn't help matters was what he had seen after that shout. He could only call it a Vision. Pepper, Rhodey, all of the Avenger's... everyone. Everyone he knew and cared about lying dead at his feet. Their eyes were the worst of it, staring blindly up into a starry sky.

But Tony could see... he could see it all.

An army made of a countless number of ships. An alien army hell-bent on targeting the Earth. It was an Earth that relied on him to protect it, yet it lay defenseless before such a numerous, insurmountable foe. There was nothing that could protect the billions of lives that needed... him...

As he turned to look behind him, desperate to figure out a way to protect his world, all he saw was mile after mile of corpses.

They were all dead.

All of them!

Tony closed his eyes and shook his head, forcing the memory, the vision, from his mind. He took a few, careful breaths and tried to calm his racing heart. It wasn't real. It wasn't. Everyone was here, and they were fine. Once the panic subsided, Tony dared to look up and prove with his own eyes that everyone was alive and well.

He needed to keep it that way.

Nodding firmly to himself, he stood up and moved over to Bruce's side. He plopped down carelessly in front of Bruce and tapped the other man on the knee to get his attention.