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Bruce Banner's jaw dropped as one spaceship after another poured out of the quantum tunnel, like a dark tide spilling into the skies of Earth.
The air seemed to vibrate with the shrill hum of alien engines. The once-bright horizon dimmed beneath the hulking silhouettes of warships blotting out the light, their metal frames glinting with an ominous glow.
Even if Bruce didn't fully grasp the mechanics behind it, his gut screamed the truth: this was bad. Very bad.
His fingers scrambled desperately across the console, punching keys, flipping switches—anything to force the portal shut. Sweat beaded along his temple, dripping down his face as alarms shrieked in protest.
But no matter what he did, the shimmering vortex of light held steady. Unmoved. Unstoppable.
The ships kept coming.
"Damn it—come on, come on!" Bruce growled under his breath.
Tony Stark and Scott Lang—both tech minds in their own right—darted in beside him, their hands flying across the controls in a frenzy. If Bruce couldn't manage it, maybe they could. But even with three brilliant brains working in sync, the machine refused to yield.
"Just destroy the damn thing!"
Captain America barked the order, his voice sharp, cutting through the chaos like steel against stone.
Tony didn't hesitate. He shoved Bruce—still clutching his injured arm—and Scott aside, his own desperation eclipsing hesitation. He slammed a hand against the glowing chest of his arc reactor.
In a smooth cascade of plates and whirring mechanisms, the Iron Man armor unfolded and locked into place around him.
Twin repulsor blasts flared with blinding brilliance, striking the console dead-on. The room shook as the machinery was obliterated in a storm of sparks and twisted metal.
The portal hung there, alive, shimmering with its eerie light, completely independent of the shattered console.
Like smashing a TV remote while the television kept playing.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
More ships tore through the opening, dark shadows passing overhead, each one promising death and destruction.
The Avengers' faces tightened, the collective weight of realization sinking in like lead.
Steve Rogers' voice was low, grim, his eyes fixed on the vast armada blotting out the sky. His shield hung at his side, but his posture radiated the heavy gravity of a soldier staring down the battlefield he dreaded yet knew was coming.
The others didn't need to be told.
The atmosphere thickened, heavy and suffocating, as if the very air was bracing for war.
"Shit! You've gotta be kidding me! How?!"
Scott Lang's curse broke the silence, his voice cracking with disbelief.
"We played with time, and time played us back. I knew it wouldn't be this easy."
Tony's voice carried a tired edge, not quite defeat but close to it. He had predicted this in his bones, a nagging unease gnawing at him ever since Bruce's snap. Victory had come too clean, too perfect, too… fragile.
And now, the bill had come due.
You didn't mess with time without consequences.
"Why is Thanos back?"
Alex narrowed his eyes, his expression shadowed as he stared at the endless fleet. None of it made sense. They had caught Nebula—the traitor was dealt with. No one should've been able to hijack the time machine.
And yet here Thanos stood, proving that even foresight wasn't enough to cage a titan like him.
Guess I underestimated him.
But if Thanos had clawed his way into this moment, then the outcome was unavoidable.
The final battle was here.
He was holding the Tesseract.
That alone made him the prize. The target.
Thanos would come for it.
And Alex had already decided—he wasn't giving it up.
His chest rose and fell once, decision locking into place like steel. This fight was his. His responsibility.
Unlike the original timeline, where Tony Stark had snatched all six Stones to deliver the final sacrificial snap, things were different now. The Stones were scattered. The gauntlet incomplete.
The Tesseract rested firmly in Alex's grip.
There would be no easy win this time.
No sitting back, watching from the sidelines.
A gauntlet-less Thanos?
Full-Gauntlet Thanos could shatter him. Even four, maybe five Stones would tilt the scale against him.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
As the weight of the moment settled over the group, the armada made the first move.
The lead ships opened fire.
Missiles streaked across the sky in swarms, leaving burning trails in their wake, each one a promise of devastation.
The Avengers braced instinctively.
Even Earth's mightiest heroes couldn't walk away from this unscathed.
Tony had his armor. Bruce had the Hulk's hide.
But Steve? Scott? Rhodey, still without his armor?
They'd be crushed in an instant.
A thunderclap split the air. A sonic boom echoed through the compound as Alex blurred to the shattered window, his speed breaking the sound barrier itself.
With one hand raised, a ripple of invisible power surged outward.
A force field ignited around the building, its translucent glow catching the reflection of fire and steel.
KABOOM! KABOOM! KABOOM!
Missiles slammed into the barrier, exploding into firestorms that consumed the sky. The shockwaves roared outward, shaking the earth.
But inside, the Avengers stood untouched.
The horizon beyond the glass was a wall of fire and smoke, the enemy fleet reduced to ghostly silhouettes against the blaze.
Not that Alex was showing off.
He wasn't here to impress. He was here to protect.
If he was going to fight Thanos, he needed his teammates alive. All of them.
In the original timeline, this first bombardment had left the Avengers scattered, scrambling, wounded—except Thor.
"Alex is helping us?!"
"He just blocked Thanos' entire barrage!"
"Holy shit… he's still insane!"
The disbelief in their voices was quickly replaced by something else—hope.
Their morale surged, eyes burning with renewed determination.
With Alex at their side, the impossible didn't feel quite so impossible anymore.
Their chances hadn't just improved.
They had just doubled.
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