There's no Karen here. No Aunt May. Not even Mister Stark for a lecture.

And what he wouldn't give to be lectured right now.

To be told what he did wrong, how he could have done better, why he wasn't good enough.

Actually…he knows the answers to those questions.

If he could have just gotten the glove off. Been stronger, faster, wiser. He could have had the glove off.

Should have gotten the glove off.

But he didn't.

Curling up on the one rock he sees, he knows there's no chance he'll be saved. There's no way he'll escape. Whatever happened to him—that painful, crumbling feeling as if he was burning into ash—cemented his place in this red, red world.

A place he deserves.

He's going to be alone for the rest of his day—

Sniffing draws his attention. A tiny black nose enters his vision attached to a white body. A little puppy in this empty, red waste. His fingers stretch out, scratch behind the ears bringing a soft whine as the pup leans into his hand.

"You're that Spider Kid."

Peter's on his feet in an instant, low to the ground, ready for attack. When he sees it's the metal arm dude, he shifts to sit on the rock. Curiosity piques as the white puppy trots over to the man and he picks it up.

Peter knows well enough that puppies aren't normally friendly with evil dudes. Looking at the man, his head tilts. "It's actually Spiderman."

There's a quirk of his brow as a slight smirk lines his lips. In no way is it intimidating, nor does he seem to be a threat. Perhaps that's why his spider senses didn't tingle. The man can't be all bad especially with the way the puppy switches positions and tucks its head under his chin. He finds it odd that one paw hugs over the shoulder as if it's nothing more than a human baby that needs protection.

"Just you, Kid?" the man asks.

Peter nods. "Well, now you and the puppy."

He gives a nod, shifts so the puppy is in one arm before holding out his hand. "Bucky."

Peter looks at the hand before looking up at him and shaking his hand. "Peter."

"Steve mentioned you're from the Bronx."

He nods. "You from Brooklyn like him?"

"Yeah." Bucky gives a soft chuckle. Shaking his head, he starts walking again. "Come on, Spiderman. There has to be more than us."

A new feeling washes the sorrow from his body flooding his veins with hope. Dancing along next to the metal arm man, he knows the guy has to be right. They can't be alone. "Does it have a name?"

Bucky's brow rises.

"The puppy?"

In one flowing gesture, he shifts the puppy so Peter can see. "I've been calling her Lani."

"Lani?"

He gives a shrug. "Just came to me. I suppose. Might be this place. It's odd here."

Peter nods in agreement. Looking around, the world is foreign, but he doesn't wonder if they're on Mars since the ground is red. He knows there isn't air on Mars. What's bothersome is he can't see past the red clouds in the hazy sky to determine where they might be.

Placing his hands behind his back, the wheels of Peter's mind turn as he takes a breath. "I think this place means we lost."

"Depends on your definition of losing," Bucky replies with a glance towards him. "If you're looking at the battle, yeah, we lost that."

"Then, what did we win?"

He pauses. "Haven't quite figured that out. I didn't imagine the afterlife being…this. Or at least, you don't deserve Hell kid."

"Nor the puppy," Peter says.

"Exactly.

"If this is the afterlife…" Peter questions, brow wrinkling as a new thought dawns. "Then why isn't your arm restored?"

*TiC* TiC* TiC*

-Six Months Later-

Walking through the trees, he's light on his feet as he looks for any sign of the raccoon. Despite the dangers of the surface world, Rocket would rather risk his life in the open than be around the Black Swan. In spite of his efforts, Steve cannot fathom why the raccoon has such an aversion to her. After this long, she hasn't tried anything on them. Hasn't come across as threatening. For as concerned as Rocket is, there is nothing to back up the raccoon's fears.

Which leaves Steve between a rock and a hard place. He wants to appease Rocket because he does trust the raccoon. However, the Black Swan has been nothing but helpful during this time of disaster, distress, and loss. She's the reason so many fled underground before the attacks…

And she's the reason they're safe and sound underground, hidden from the horrors in the atmosphere.

Why Rocket can't see that is beyond Steve. And no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to get the raccoon to open up to him.

Keeping his gaze raised to the tree branches, Steve finally finds the woodland creature nestled between the trunk and a limb cleaning his gun. "You know the woods aren't safe."

"Safer than with that broad," the raccoon growls.

Steve sighs. "She's been helpful."

He scoffs. "Yeah, and Ego wasn't in the universe for eons tryin' ta find the right offspring."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're an idiot like the rest of you flesh-bags."

With another sigh, Steve climbs the tree and settles on a thick branch below the raccoon. "If she can help us fix this—"

"She can't," he growls, ears flattening against his head. "That no good broad ain't gonna help you do anything. You think 'cause she uses some fancy words like Quantum Realm she's on your side? Don't be so flarken stupid."

"Bruce agrees with her—"

"Course he does." Rocket exhales. Strapping his gun to his back, he hops down from the tree. "She's telling you exactly what you wanna hear. That's what telepaths do."

Following suit, Steve drops down and trails. "Telepath?"

"We've had this conversation one hundred and thirty-seven times," the raccoon growls as he makes his way through the woods.

Trotting ahead, Steve kneels in front of Rocket. "What?"

The raccoon rolls his eyes. "I don't know why I keep botherin'. She just wipes your memory anyway. Keeps you spinning in circles and no closer to helpin' out those we've lost. Flarken waste of time."

Steve's head tilts. "You're saying, we've discussed this before?"

"One hundred and thirty-seven times." Rocket knocks his knuckles against Steve's skull. "The broad keeps wipin' your memory. Soon as she senses you coming. Blam!"

And for what feels like the first time, Steve finds himself unable to take even the tiniest of breaths.

*TiC* TiC* TiC*

"It's nobody's fault."

I'm so sorry…

"…I trashed all my suits…We had to mop up HYDRA, then Ultron…I don't wanna stop…"

The images waver around him like tiny lights flickering, guiding him as they form and give way like the ever-changing tides.

"When you can do the things that I can, but you don't…and then the bad things happen…they happen because of you."

Shifting and turning and spinning in a place beyond thought and time.

"If you could make God bleed, people would cease to believe in Him…"

So far and so vast, yet never possibly existing at all. A blur of what once was and what never will be. For what is truly real?

Wake up, Tony. You're not dead just yet.

He blinks into the blinding light. Shudders violently since it feels as if he's just broken free of a glacier. Tenses as the object in his mouth forces air into his lungs.

A shimmer shifts and he squints. In the light, there's something hazy watching him. Something he can't quite focus on, but it's almost as if he knows what it is.

Knows he's seen it before.

Knows it's—

Alarms screech to his right. Panic floods his veins as a terrible chill breathes goosebumps on his bare skin. Fear knocks on his door and he's lucky enough to have the door barred.

Looking to his right, he watches a grey, reptilian Chitauri growl to others that work on a pale body. Holographic screens flash warnings of what he can only assume is impending death.

There's a twinge in his chest. Sorrow heavy and thick. But he also feels overwhelming fear knocking, and suddenly isn't sure if it's a bad thing. After all, his senses are heightened as he watches the Chitauri desperately try to save the being.

Which makes him momentarily question everything he knows about the species.

His attention doesn't hold for long as movement by the door catches his attention. In the stark white medic bay, the black-cloaked figure is nothing but ominous as dread fills Tony's soul. Sorrow continuous to build, threatening to flow out from his chest like lava from Mauna Loa.

Tony, you must do something.

The voice in his head cracks what's left of his sanity as a blur of thoughts mingle in his tired mind. The voice is as familiar as the cloaked figure he knows is a reaper.

Pausing beside the table next to him, the reaper tilts its head methodically, reminding Tony of those fabric things from the wizard movies.

Or perhaps a Nazgul.

Tony's gaze moves to the victim. Still pale and now slightly blue. It appears to be female though he can't see too much past the massive Chitauri bodies. Can't see much past the tangle of brown hair. Can't see much until her head lolls slightly towards—

No! Tony thinks. NO!

The reaper pauses, hooded gaze on him as if it can hear his thoughts. Fear beats on the door, Tony refuses to open.

Leave her alone! Tony thinks as the reaper seems to continue to stare. His heart picks up pace because he can't lose the one person in the universe who's—mostly—stayed with him. He can't bear to lose the one ally he seems to have made. He can't bear to…

To be alone in this massive universe.

And just like that the reaper turns and leaves.

As it does, the alarms silence. Two breaths later, Tony sees a soft pink color light Weeping Angel's cheeks. It doesn't take long for her tired eyes to open and glance to him. Panic in them simmers before a tear slides down her cheek.

—Incoming Transmission—

Happy Slytherin day to my fellow Hogwarts classmates.

Perhaps after OWLs, life will calm down a bit.

Happy mid-semester.

—End Transmission—