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The dust of Sokovia was slowly settling.
Over the ruins, silence replaced the clamor.
Only the occasional distant wail of sirens and the clatter of rubble falling from broken walls broke the hush.
Natasha Romanoff was the first to move.
She stepped over the debris and walked toward the figure curled up in the Shell Crater.
Bruce Banner was bare-chested, nothing left but a pair of stretch pants.
He hugged his knees, trembling uncontrollably, like a child jolted awake from a nightmare.
Natasha pulled an Emergency Blanket from her tactical pouch.
"Hey, Bruce, it's over…"
Her voice was soft; she crouched beside him and gently wrapped the blanket around his naked body.
Banner flinched, then slowly lifted his head.
"I… messed it up again, didn't I?"
His voice carried deep despair.
"How many? How many died, Natasha… give me the number."
He looked around—saw the collapsed residential block, the black smoke rising from the rubble—and shut his eyes in agony, fingers clawing at his hair.
"None, Bruce." Natasha caught his wrist to stop him. "Listen—no one died. This time, someone caught your punch."
"Plus, Tony bought every building here; nothing irreparable happened."
"Really?" Banner could hardly believe it.
"Really." Natasha brushed a smudge of dirt from his cheek. "Someone stopped you. It's over."
Banner exhaled long and hard, slumping against Natasha's shoulder.
"Thank you…"
…On the other side of the ruins.
Pietro Maximoff lay on a flat slab of concrete, both legs twisted at unnatural angles. Agony bleached his face, but he bit back any sound, fingers clawing the gravel beneath him.
Wanda knelt beside him, hands hovering over her brother's legs, scarlet Chaos Energy flickering at her fingertips, afraid to touch.
Tears streamed down her cheeks like broken beads.
"It's all my fault… all my fault…"
Wanda choked, voice cracking.
"I shouldn't have provoked that monster… If I hadn't tried to control him…"
She looked around at the devastation—her hometown—now a battlefield because of her rage and recklessness.
"I'm a monster, Pietro… I'm a disaster…"
A hand settled gently on her shoulder.
A red-gloved hand.
Wanda shuddered and turned.
Homelander stepped beside her, all sharp edges sheathed, and crouched so their eyes met.
"Wanda Maximoff."
"I'm Anthony."
He reached out, softly tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"I know you, kid." Homelander smiled, eyes full of pity. "Pietro talks about you all the time."
Pietro, lying on the ground: "…"
He swore he'd never had a heart-to-heart with the boss at Vought—unless complaining about tough workouts or bad pizza counted.
But meeting that sincere gaze, he swallowed, wisely shut up, and silently recited the Employee Handbook.
"He… talks about me?" Wanda froze.
"Of course." Homelander nodded. "Says you're the only thing he cares about in this World."
"I…" Wanda glanced at the ruins, tears flowing harder. "All I do is destroy… I'm a monster…"
"Look at me, Wanda." His voice seemed to pierce straight through her.
"Power itself isn't right or wrong."
"Like fire. It can burn a house, or warm you in winter. You just haven't learned to control that flame."
"But I hurt Pietro…" She gazed at his legs through her tears.
"Call it the price of growing up, sweetheart."
Homelander glanced at Pietro, giving the stubborn silver-haired kid a look that said play along.
"For heroes, scars are medals. He's carrying this for you—and for this city."
"It doesn't make you a disaster."
He cupped Wanda's face, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"It only means you need guidance."
"You need someone to teach you to turn World-breaking power into a shield that protects it."
"That's a responsibility, Wanda. You can't run—you have to shoulder it."
Wanda stared at him, transfixed.
In his eyes she saw something she'd longed for forever.
"I… can I?" her voice quavered.
"Of course… I'll walk with you." Homelander flashed his trademark perfect smile.
The words shattered the last of Wanda's defenses.
Prompt! Special popularity +15,000! (From Wanda Maximoff)
"As for Pietro."
Homelander walked over and looked down at the broken legs.
"Bear it, kid. This injury is nothing at Vought. I guarantee in a month you'll win gold at the Paralympics!"
Sweat-soaked, Pietro still forced a crooked grin. "Boss… that joke… is awful."
"Awful? I thought it was hilarious."
Homelander shrugged.
A metallic scrape sounded.
Tony Stark climbed out of the badly damaged Anti-Hulk Armor.
Natasha came too, supporting a drained Banner.
The Avengers, on this scarred plaza, faced Vought's leader once more.
"Alright."
Tony flipped up his visor, wiped blood from his lip, and eyed the unscathed Homelander.
"Hate to admit it, but you stole the spotlight again, Mr. Star-Spangled Banner."
He kicked a pebble aside.
"Still, that punch-catch was slick. Jarvis, send me the footage later—I want to analyze his force vectors frame by frame."
"Happy to oblige, Tony." Homelander smiled. "Want my autograph while we're at it?"
"Save it." Tony rolled his eyes.
Natasha led Banner over to Homelander.
The top Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. now wore a complicated gaze.
"Anthony," Natasha began, "or should I say, Mr. Starr."
"Call me Anthony. Long time, Natasha."
"Fine, Anthony." She shrugged. "I just realized something: in this World, picking the right boss matters."
"I'm done with Fury and his endless games…"
"I was ready to retire…"
She met his eyes.
"Still, I have to ask… is Vought hiring? The kind where I skip the fifty-page application form?"