When the red light above the emergency room door went out, everyone waiting outside instantly stood up. The hallway fell silent as a stretcher was wheeled out, a white sheet covering the body beneath it. It was Agent Coulson.
Nick Fury let out a heavy sigh and turned to Steve Rogers and Tony Stark. "Let's talk," he said quietly, motioning for them to follow him into the adjacent room.
The room was stark and glass-walled. Across the glass, Coulson's still body lay covered. There should have been more Avengers present, but things had gone wrong.
Thor had been thrown out of the Helicarrier during Loki's escape, launched into the sky with brutal force. Natasha was with Clint Barton—Hawkeye had just come back from being mind-controlled and was in critical condition. As for Bruce Banner, he had exhausted himself transforming back and forth and was now in deep recovery.
Steve and Tony sat down in silence. The glass wall offered no comfort. Tony stared at the shape under the sheet, feeling strangely disconnected.
Fury dropped a small stack of blood-stained trading cards onto the table. "These were in Coulson's pocket," he said. "He wanted your signature, Steve. Never got the chance."
Steve picked up one of the cards and stared at it, speechless. Tony looked away, pretending to be absorbed in thought, but it was clear the moment was hitting him harder than he expected. He wasn't used to losing someone close in battle.
Fury took a moment before continuing. "We're in chaos. Communications are down. The Tesseract is missing. Thor's whereabouts are unknown. Banner's still out. And now… Coulson. One of our best, gone."
He paused, then looked at them both. "Yes, I wanted to use the Tesseract for weapons. But that wasn't the only plan. I had another vision—a bolder one. The Avengers Initiative. People from different walks, uniting to stand against threats no one could face alone. Coulson believed in that. Right up until the end."
Fury stepped closer to Steve and lowered his voice. "He planned a celebration lunch after your victory. You were supposed to sign his card set then."
Steve didn't respond. He simply pulled a pen from his pocket and started signing the cards, one by one.
On the other side of the glass, a small gap in the sheet revealed Coulson's face. His eyes fluttered open.
Through the haze, he saw Steve signing his prized cards—his limited edition Captain America SSR set.
His heart skipped. He had dreamed of this moment for years. If he could've moved, he'd have pinched himself to see if it was real.
Steve signed the final card, placing the pen down with a quiet breath. Tony, catching the mood, reached into his pocket and passed Steve a lighter.
Steve took it without a word and lit the edge of the cards.
Fury's eyes widened. "What are you doing?!"
Steve looked up, solemn. "Returning them to Coulson. We let him down. This is the least I can do to honor his memory."
Fury glanced at Coulson's body.
The moment the flame reached the final card, Coulson's covered form twitched—subtly, but enough.
"Did... did anyone else see that?" Tony said, eyes wide. "I swear I just saw him move."
Fury tried to explain, clearly rattled. "It's just postmortem muscle spasms. Happens before rigor mortis."
Steve said nothing.
He had seen too much in war to be surprised.
"I wish I could still see him crying," someone murmured. The slight movement from Coulson's body caused the white cloth to shift, revealing a corner of his face.
"Of course... we let him down," Steve said quietly, his voice heavy. "Maybe... maybe this is just what death looks like."
Hearing that, Tony froze mid-thought. The fragile hope that had flickered inside him was crushed by Steve's blunt honesty. He clenched his jaw, eyes burning, and suddenly stood up. Without a word, he stormed out of the room.
Fury didn't hesitate. His eyes shifted to Steve. "Go after him. You're a team now. He hasn't been through this kind of loss before."
Steve nodded and took off after Tony.
With the others gone, Fury walked through the glass door and approached Coulson's body. For a moment, it had seemed like he might sit up, but now he lay motionless again. Fury pulled back the white cloth slightly.
Coulson was still. But from beneath his closed eyes, tears streamed freely, soaking the sheet beneath his cheeks.
'God help him.' Fury thought, giving Coulson a look of pity.
Collecting those vintage Captain America SSR cards had been one of Coulson's few joys off-duty.
He'd spent years piecing that set together.
And now? Signed by Steve himself... only to be burned right in front of him.
Coulson's mind reeled.
This has to be fake. There's no way.
Those SSR cards—those rare editions—they're gone.
Signed and then turned to ash like it meant nothing.
'This has to be a dream. Some cruel illusion. You're all lying. This is a prank. Ha... ha... ha... Waaaahhhh... I'm so—so damn unlucky!'
Even Fury, hardened by years of running S.H.I.E.L.D., couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy.
His expression softened.
"It's alright, Coulson. I'll get you a promotion. A raise too. For real this time."
Meanwhile, Steve found Tony standing alone on a high platform, staring out over the Helicarrier's edge.
Though he faced away, the tension in his shoulders told Steve everything.
"First time losing someone in the field?" Steve asked, walking up slowly.
"We're not soldiers," Tony said, voice low, not turning around.
"But Coulson was."
Tony turned sharply at that, eyes blazing. "That idiot! What kind of lunatic rushes in alone against Loki? He should've waited for backup. If he had, maybe—maybe he'd still be here."
Steve placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Sometimes there's just no other way."
Tony looked away again, jaw clenched. "He died with regrets. And that sucks. But we're still here, so we need to make it count. We help him finish what he started. Loki needs energy for whatever he's planning, and that means—"
He trailed off, catching his own words. Steve raised a brow.
"He's making it personal," Tony said suddenly. "That's what you meant earlier. Loki isn't just trying to win. He's trying to be seen winning."
Steve nodded. "Exactly. He resents Thor. Resents Odin. Wants to prove he's better than them. That he can bring the Earth to its knees where they failed."
"He wants an audience," Tony continued, eyes narrowing. "Germany was his preview. The real show is coming next. Something bigger, something flashier. Loki doesn't just want to rule. He wants a monument, something huge with his name lit up in cosmic neon. He's theatrical... like me."
Tony paused. His rant derailed as a realization struck him hard.
"Sonovabitch!"
...
"Agent Romanoff, can you fly a plane?" Steve asked, stepping into the room from the hallway.
"I can. And I'm more than just decent," Natasha replied.
Before she could say more, Clint—already half-suited up—looked over and cut in. "She's being modest. I've seen her land a damaged Quinjet with one engine and a broken wing."
Steve's eyes drifted to Clint for a moment. There was a flicker of uncertainty there.
"He's good," Natasha assured him quickly, noticing Steve's hesitation.
Steve gave a short nod. "Alright. Let's go. We're heading out."
On the other side of the hangar, Tony was already securing the last piece of his armor into place.
"Where's Ethan? Hasn't he shown up yet?" Steve asked, looking around.
"Good question. I was wondering the same thing," came a groaning voice.
Banner limped in from the hallway, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.
"Dr. Banner, are you okay? You look... messed up," Steve said warily, half-raising his shield just in case.
"No transformation incoming," Banner said with a weak grin. "Just everything hurts. Also, I really need to talk to Ethan. Gonna try reasoning with him."
Steve raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously," Banner added with a sigh. "I mean, the big guy won't cut it with that guy. I need words."
"He said he had something to take care of," Tony answered, voice slightly muffled as he adjusted his helmet. "Said he'd catch up."
"Then let's move," Steve said, leading the team toward the lower deck.
They entered the hangar, making their way to a Quinjet.
As they approached the aircraft, a man inside stepped forward, blocking their path.
"You can't board without authorization," he said sternly.
Steve stepped closer. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"Agent 0233," the man replied, stiffening. "I'm... uh... running a routine inspection. Wait—ammunition. That's it. Ammunition loading."
Steve crossed his arms. "Then you should know who we are."
"I do," the agent said quickly. "But... the rules are still rules. No one boards without clearance."
Steve sighed and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "Son, I appreciate the dedication. But we're not exactly tourists."
0233 stood his ground. "Doesn't matter. Protocol is protocol."
Steve blinked. Was everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. this by-the-book?
Tony rolled his eyes and stepped forward. "Let me handle this. If we wait for clearance, we'll still be on this deck when Ethan shows up."
But before Tony could take another step, 0233's expression shifted the moment he heard Ethan's name.
"I didn't blow anything up!" he shouted, backing away quickly. "I was just following orders! Ammo loading only! Take the jet, I'm not stopping you! Just... get it out of here before the consultant finds out. I just finished helping with Kamar-Taj's repairs—I'm not doing that again!"
Without another word, Agent 0233 bolted from the aircraft, vanishing down the corridor.
Tony blinked. "Are all your agents like this?" he asked, turning to Natasha and Clint.
Natasha and Clint exchanged a glance and said nothing.
Meanwhile, elsewhere on the carrier, Fury was standing beside a still-shaken Coulson, trying to offer comfort.
But the moment of calm was shattered by the sound of alarms.
"Unauthorized takeoff detected from Hangar Six," the system blared.
Fury narrowed his eyes. "Sounds like they found Loki. Did they fill you in?"
He turned to Ethan, who stood nearby, arms crossed and face unreadable.
"If Tony's theory is right, Loki's at Stark Tower in New York," Ethan said flatly.
Fury's jaw tightened. He had hoped the battle would stay off-grid—somewhere remote. Somewhere uninhabited.
But that hope was gone now.
New York. Ten million people.
Even in the best-case scenario, half of them could die. The thought weighed like steel chains around Fury's chest.
"Is there any way," Fury asked, turning to Ethan, desperation creeping into his voice, "that you and the other mutants could evacuate the city?"