A/N: I don't own Marvel.

This is what there is:

A vent with a screw that's paint is chipped.

(Boy: five standard. Thought he could escape into the vents like the heroes in the vids. He didn't have the tools for it.)

It goes up in the explosion of the ship.

This is what there is:

A stuffed animal in a junk shop that is missing an eye.

(Girl: three standard. She carried the doll everywhere, but it was lost when she got picked up the Ravagers.)

It is ratty and torn. It collects dust in a back corner.

This is what there is:

A planet wide bulletin announcing a missing child.

(Boy: ten standard. His mother was influential and the planet was safe enough that such events were rare there.)

It is eventually replaced by a cold case file that is never solved.

This is what there is:

An entry in a data log announcing the last person to borrow the book.

(Girl: thirteen standard. She liked to pretend that her father was an important man who would return, just like in the books she preferred.)

It is an electronic book, so it is returned automatically on the due date, even though it is unfinished.

This is what there is:

A wall with two names scratched into it by street kids when too much time had passed for hope.

(Twins: seventeen standard. They helped the younger kids survive the harsh winters of their uncaring world.)

It is painted over by a gentrification project that considered it graffitied excessively.

There are more.

Nova Corps gives up trying to find out how many more.

(Boys and girls: all ages. The names stretch back for millennia.)

Some have families who grieve. Some don't.

This is what they have in common:

A pile of bones left abandoned near what might be called their father's heart.

(Jumbled together. Broken. Unmarked.)

It is destroyed with the planet, and the bones become dust in the midst of the stars.