Earth - Avengers Compound, Upstate New York
The silence in the Avengers compound was deafening.
Tony Stark sat alone in the main conference room, his fingers pressed against his temples as he stared at the holographic displays that showed absolutely nothing useful. Empty chairs surrounded the massive table—seats that should have been occupied by his teammates, his friends, his family. Instead, they served as stark reminders of just how thoroughly his world had been turned upside down in the span of a single mission.
"So what do we do now, Stark?"
Clint Barton's voice cut through the oppressive quiet, carrying the weight of a question that had been haunting both men for seven straight days. The archer stood near the compound's floor-to-ceiling windows, his usually sharp eyes reflecting the kind of exhaustion that came from sleepless nights spent analyzing data that led nowhere and following leads that vanished into thin air.
Tony rubbed his face with both hands, the gesture doing nothing to alleviate the fatigue that had settled into his bones like a physical weight. For the first time in his adult life, the genius inventor who always had a plan, always had an answer, always had a solution ready to deploy, found himself completely at a loss.
"Honestly, Clint?" Tony said, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic note of vulnerability. "I don't know. And that terrifies me more than I'm willing to admit."
It had been exactly one week since nine Avengers had vanished without a trace during what should have been a routine mission to neutralize a HYDRA research facility in Europe. One week since Tony had lost contact with Steve Rogers in the middle of what sounded like a standard tactical update. One week since the world's mightiest heroes had simply... disappeared.
The moment Steve's communication had cut to static, Tony had suited up in his most advanced armor and pushed his repulsors to their absolute limits, covering the distance from New York to the mountains of Europe in record time. What he had found at the HYDRA facility had only deepened the mystery that was now consuming his every waking moment.
The base itself had been completely abandoned, but not destroyed. HYDRA agents lay scattered throughout the complex, unconscious but alive, tied up with the kind of precision that spoke of professional restraint rather than combat fury. A massive mechanical head—clearly Ultron technology but labeled with the designation "Ultimo"—sat in the facility's main chamber like some technological artifact waiting to be discovered.
Their Quinjet had been parked in perfect condition outside the base, all systems functional, no signs of damage or forced entry. Evidence of a fierce battle was scattered throughout the facility—scorch marks on walls, damaged equipment, the kind of destruction that came from superpowers being used in confined spaces.
But of the nine Avengers who had gone on the mission, there was no trace. No bodies, no blood, no signs of struggle or retreat or capture. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff, Scott Lang, Hope van Dyne, James Rhodes, Sam Wilson, and Vision had simply vanished as if they had never existed.
Tony had spent days analyzing every piece of technology in the facility, every scrap of data he could extract from damaged HYDRA computers, every energy signature his sensors could detect. All he had gotten for his efforts were headaches, frustration, and the growing certainty that whatever had happened to his teammates was beyond anything in his considerable experience.
The first person he had called was Clint Barton, and the master archer had arrived at the compound within hours, abandoning his family farm and his well-earned retirement to help search for their missing friends. For the past week, the two men had been the entirety of Earth's mightiest heroes, and the weight of that responsibility was crushing both of them.
"Stark," Clint said, his voice cutting through Tony's introspection with the kind of gentle insistence that came from years of friendship and shared battles. "I know you're beating yourself up about this, but you still haven't answered my question. What's our next move?"
Tony looked up from his holographic displays, meeting Clint's gaze with eyes that reflected far too much sleepless analysis and caffeine-fueled desperation. "I've been working on something, Clint. It's not much, but it's the only lead we have."
"Then let's hear it."
Before Tony could respond, the compound's AI system activated with its characteristically crisp efficiency.
"Boss," came Friday's synthesized voice from the ceiling speakers.
"What is it, Friday?"
"Dr. Henry Pym is here to see you. He appears to be... agitated."
Tony closed his eyes and let out a long breath that carried the weight of impending confrontation. "Of course he is. Send him up."
Within minutes, the conference room doors slid open to admit a man whose usually controlled demeanor had been replaced by barely contained fury. Dr. Henry Pym stormed into the room with the kind of righteous anger that came from a father whose child was missing and who needed someone to blame.
"Stark," Pym said without preamble, his voice carrying decades of accumulated distrust and current desperation, "you'd better have a damn good explanation for why my daughter and my protégé have disappeared."
Tony felt his own temper flare in response to Pym's accusatory tone, the stress of the past week finally finding an outlet in the kind of confrontation he was far more comfortable handling than helpless waiting.
"Listen, Pym," Tony replied with the sharp edge that had made him legendary in corporate boardrooms and superhero briefings alike, "I don't know what you want me to tell you, but here's the situation: I don't have any more answers than you do."
The two men faced each other across the conference table like gunslingers preparing for a duel, years of professional rivalry and personal animosity threatening to explode into open conflict at the worst possible moment.
Tony continued, his voice rising with each word. "In case you missed the memo, the entire team is missing. Not just Hope and Scott, but Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, the Maximoff twins, Rhodey, Sam, and Vision. Nine of the most powerful individuals on the planet have vanished without a trace, and I have absolutely no idea how it happened or where they are."
Hank Pym opened his mouth to respond, but Clint Barton stepped between the two men with the kind of calm authority that had made him an invaluable member of the Avengers despite his lack of superhuman abilities.
"Enough," Clint said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much loss to tolerate pointless arguments. "Both of you, just stop. Right now, we're dealing with the disappearance of nine superheroes. We don't know where any of them are, we don't know what happened to them, and we don't know if they're even still alive. The last thing any of us need is to waste time and energy fighting each other instead of focusing on the real problem."
The archer's words hit both men like cold water, reminding them of the stakes involved and the futility of assigning blame when what they needed was cooperation.
Clint continued, his voice softening slightly but losing none of its conviction. "If you two want to hash out your personal issues, fine. Save it for after we find our friends and family. Right now, we need to work together, because frankly, we're all they've got."
Tony leaned against the conference table, some of the fight going out of him as the reality of their situation reasserted itself. Hank Pym pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, his anger giving way to the kind of exhaustion that came from a week of sleepless worry.
"What exactly happened, Stark?" Pym asked, his voice now carrying genuine concern rather than accusatory fury. "One minute, Hope and Scott's biometric sensors were reading normal, transmitting clear data. The next minute, they just... disappeared. No distress signals, no emergency beacons, just silence."
Tony activated the room's holographic display system, calling up the data he had been analyzing obsessively for the past week. Three-dimensional maps, energy readings, tactical reports, and timeline reconstructions filled the air above the conference table.
"Here's what we know," Tony began, falling back into the analytical mindset that had always served him in crisis situations. "The team was investigating a HYDRA research facility in the Carpathian Mountains. Standard protocol, standard equipment, standard personnel. Steve's last communication was at 1347 hours local time, reporting that they had secured the facility and were investigating some kind of advanced technology."
The holographic display shifted to show the HYDRA base's layout, with red indicators marking the locations where evidence of the team's presence had been found.
"At 1348 hours, all communication ceased," Tony continued. "Not just radio silence—complete electromagnetic absence. It's like they stopped existing."
Hank leaned forward, his scientific mind engaging with the problem despite his emotional turmoil. "What did you find when you reached the facility?"
"That's where it gets interesting," Tony replied, manipulating the display to show his findings. "The base was intact, all HYDRA personnel unconscious but alive, secured with what looked like professional restraint techniques. Our Quinjet was parked outside, completely undamaged. And in the facility's main laboratory..."
The holographic display shifted to show the massive mechanical head that Tony had recovered from the site.
"Ultimo," Tony said grimly. "An advanced Ultron variant that we've never encountered before. It was completely inactive when I found it, but the energy readings suggest it had been operational recently."
Clint studied the holographic reconstruction with the tactical eye that had made him one of the world's most effective intelligence operatives. "Any sign of struggle? Fighting? Forced extraction?"
"That's what doesn't make sense," Tony replied, frustration evident in his voice. "There was evidence of a battle—scorch marks, damaged equipment, the kind of destruction you'd expect from superpowers being used in combat. But no blood, no bodies, no signs that anyone was seriously injured or killed."
"And no indication of where they went," Hank added.
"None. It's like they just... vanished into thin air."
The three men sat in contemplative silence for several minutes, each processing the implications of what they were dealing with. The disappearance of nine Avengers wasn't just a personal tragedy—it was a global security crisis that left Earth vulnerable to threats that required superhuman intervention to address.
"So what's your plan, Stark?" Clint finally asked. "Because sitting here analyzing the same data over and over again isn't getting us any closer to finding them."
Tony straightened, some of his characteristic confidence returning as he focused on actionable solutions rather than unsolvable mysteries.
"First, we need to expand our search network," he said, his voice taking on the decisive tone that had made him an effective leader despite his personal flaws. "Clint, you mentioned having contacts in the intelligence community. It's time to call in every favor, activate every asset, and put the word out through every channel we can access."
Clint nodded approvingly. "I've got people in SHIELD, CIA, Interpol, and a few organizations that don't officially exist. If there's any chatter about unusual phenomena, energy signatures, or technological anomalies anywhere in the world, we'll hear about it."
"What about contacting Nick Fury?" Hank suggested. "If anyone has resources we haven't considered, it would be him."
Tony activated his AI interface with a gesture. "Friday, do we have current contact information for Nick Fury?"
"I'm sorry, Boss," came the AI's response, "but Director Fury's current contact protocols are not in my database. His last known communication preferences indicate that he will contact you if he wishes to be contacted."
"Figures," Tony muttered. "Fury's probably already aware of the situation anyway. He has a talent for knowing about crises before the people experiencing them do."
He turned back to Hank with an expression that was equal parts determination and desperation. "Dr. Pym, if you're willing to put aside our personal differences for the duration of this crisis, I could use your expertise. The technology I recovered from the HYDRA facility is unlike anything I've encountered before. It might be the key to understanding what happened to our people."
Hank considered the offer for a moment, his paternal concern warring with decades of distrust for Tony Stark and everything associated with Stark Industries. Finally, his love for his daughter won out over his personal animosities.
"Lead the way, Stark," he said grimly. "But I want full access to everything you've found, and I want complete transparency about what we're dealing with. No corporate secrets, no proprietary technology concerns, no holding back information because you think I can't handle it."
"Agreed," Tony replied without hesitation. "At this point, I'm willing to try anything that might bring them home."
As the three men prepared to descend into Tony's private laboratory, each of them carried the weight of knowing that they were Earth's last line of defense against threats that had already proven capable of making the planet's mightiest heroes simply disappear.
The technology they were about to examine might hold the key to reuniting families, saving friends, and restoring hope to a world that had grown accustomed to having superheroes standing between civilization and chaos.
But it might also reveal that their missing teammates were facing dangers beyond anything they had ever encountered, in places so far from home that rescue might be impossible.
As they walked through the compound's corridors toward Tony's laboratory, none of them spoke the fear that was haunting all of their thoughts: that this might be the first step in discovering that Earth's mightiest heroes were truly gone forever.
The silence that followed them down the hallway was broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the quiet hum of technology that might hold the answers they desperately needed—or might confirm their worst nightmares about the fate of the people they loved most in the world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Support me at p@treon.com/goldengaruda and check out more chapter of this or more early access chapter of my other fanfic translation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~