Aunt May was worrying more than ever, and had all but begged Peter not to go out after curfew. But... he had a responsibility. And he was registered, right? Doom’s police couldn’t be too mad about him swinging around. He was more concerned with the invisible demons he’d heard about, but he hadn’t come across any of them yet. The rumors were flying fast and furious, but maybe that was just paranoia and fear. A part of him hoped so, hoped they didn’t have a new threat to deal with. But a part of him was worried that if it was just paranoia, then things were getting even more dire. Panic was never good.

His head was swirling with thoughts as he swung through the empty streets, Karen unusually quiet in his ear. She was focusing on trying to detect any anomalies around them, but so far, the invisible demons (if they exited) were proving elusive. Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and at first, his heart raced, but then he smiled when he recognized the familiar silhouette. 

Jean’s mindscape was not as closely guarded a secret as many others were. Like everyone else, her pain and suffering felt like a completely private, personal experience, but unlike most, her experiences and trauma had played out in full view of everyone that she cared deeply about, everyone that she adored, and everyone whose opinion she ultimately cherished. The Phoenix’s flames didn’t just burn through others’ lies and deception, it burned through Jean’s as well, revealing a woman who was far from the person who remained calm in the face of adversity that everyone had previously believed her to be.

In many ways, showing Jessica her mindscape had been one of the easiest things she had to do as a therapist. She hadn’t known the woman before their first session, and that meant that Jessica didn’t have any preconceptions in her own mind of what Jean would be, either. Surely the woman would’ve looked her up since then, it was in her nature to be curious, but Jean couldn’t blame her for that. She was vaguely interested in what she would have uncovered, but not nearly enough to ask about it, to open herself up to the truth again when her wounds were still so freshly healed.

Recently, Jessica had reached out to her once again, stating that she was feeling ready to venture into her own mind this time. Jean waved a hand, pushing the cushions on her couch to one side. Too much organisation would put her on edge, but Jean couldn’t help herself a little. She heard Jessica’s thoughts from a street away, but she waited until she heard the knock to go to the door.

A long, long time ago Matt Murdock had been having the worst weekend of his young life, because the medical student that he made out with in the books the night before the first torts exam had unceremoniously dumped him the night after the last torts exam. She had then proceeded to inform him that he was ‘nice, but just not edgy enough,’ and hopped onto the back of her ex’s motorcycle. The rest, as they say, was history, and that was how Foggy Nelson returned to see his best friend with his head buried in a pillow, informing him that his life was over.

Foggy Nelson had, true to form, immediately turned to alcohol, bad decisions, loud music, and faceless girls to dance with and never call. That was part of the reason that Matt loved him so much, part of the reason why Foggy, even with all of the other people in college, was someone that he spent the most time with.

Being a vigilante was something that Pietro had never really considered. After all, he hadn’t felt the call to heroism as most of his family had, hadn’t shared the same optimism and compassion for other people as the Avengers did. He wanted to protect his family and that was it, with the exception of Sokovia, and that was when he had literally died. Now that his family wasn’t speaking to him and was far from needing his protection, he needed to focus on what he was going to do with his life. There wasn’t much opportunity for a former terrorist, and that meant he was going to help defend people in New York, if nothing else then to make up for what he had done.

Things had been going relatively well as he battled against a giant green lizard that had seemingly emerged from the sewers and grown exponentially when it reached the fresh air. Being in another dimension was supposed to mean that super villains wouldn’t be as rampant, but here they were. Pietro was doing just fine running, punching the thing and continuing to circle it while his hand healed from the sharp scales, but then, true to form, another vigilante arrived.

Good days and bad days. Bucky had always had them, or at least, the memories that he had recently recovered implied that was the case. There were nights that he woke up in a cold sweat, reaching for the gun under his pillow, or throwing his mattress up to get to the small armory he had placed there before he was taken once again. There were others when he opened his eyes with a start, pushed himself up in bed, and stared at the wall in front of him until he convinced himself that he was in Brooklyn, it was 1925, his sisters were bickering in their bedroom hoping that their parents wouldn’t hear them, and Steve would be around the next day with a bloodier nose than he’d had the previous. Good nights and bad nights, that might’ve been a better description.

He wasn’t quite sure where this night fit in when it came to those categories. His dreams, or nightmares depending on the definition, seemed more like memories, which he took to be a good thing. A song playing from a staticky radio, the crooning voice blending with the sizzle of bacon in the pan, and someone mumbling curse words from the bed pushed against the wall as Bucky grinned. (Had he done that since the fall? Was he capable of it, even? No - to grin, he would have to be human, not a machine, not a weapon, not whatever the hell they had turned him into.) Bucky couldn’t quite pick out the words of their conversation, but he knew the sentiment. They were both going to work, the war was fast approaching, they were arguing over when Bucky would get the draft.

When he woke up, another truth came to him: he had lied. Bucky had looked his best friend in the eye, had told him that he had signed up to the army, that he’d beat the bullet before it hit him. He’d tried to be a hero, rather than a coward who was pulled into a war kicking and screaming. It sounded more like him than any of the other memories.

That truth, though, wasn’t satisfying enough in a notebook. Something needed to be done with it, to help it to settle. Bucky had been watching him, looking over him for weeks, watching him make dumb decision after dumb decision that always seemed to work out for him, the Father’s grace alone ensuring that. He knew where he lived, knew what his patterns were, knew he’d be home this time of night if he wasn’t out for a jog. He did that, sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep. Always had. At least now he wouldn’t break out in an asthma attack from the cold air.

The door opened in front of him. Bucky suddenly realised that this was insanely different to sending a letter, or flashing a quick, coded message through the man’s window. I.A.M.O.K. This was something else, this was reality, though it felt as if he was still half asleep.

The Fantastic Four, at their core, were explorers. Adventurers, particularly of the stars. If they were simply a variant of the Avengers, spending day in and day out fighting, protecting and defending, Sue was pretty sure that she would lose her mind. In her heart she was a scientist, she had gone to school to become an astrophysicist, and it was out in the vast, unexplored universe that she found her comfort. Of course, over the years the Fantastic Four had heard of and worked alongside a great number of people, and in the course of their careers there had been many that had fallen to the dangers that space presented. Sue was not naive, she knew that there was a potential of death each time she went out, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel claustrophobic now trapped in a pocket dimension, sitting on her hands while everyone tried to figure out a way back.

The man that was known as Nova Prime had been someone that Sue had heard of, and occasionally worked alongside (alongside being a relative term, of course - they could be defending the same star system, but were often separated by thousands of miles). When she heard through the grapevine, and Reed’s sophisticated surveillance systems, that someone by the name was acting once again in New York, she had reached out to him in any way that she could and invited him to the Baxter building. Now, the day had come for their meeting, and she looked up from pouring tea when she heard the elevator doors opening.

“Hi there! Please, please, come in. I have tea and scones. I have it on good authority that they’re some of the best in the city, so I won’t pretend I found them myself,” Sue said with a smile, gesturing back towards the sofa. “Do you want a seat? Thank you so much for meeting with me. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with our team, the Fantastic Four, but I’m Susan Storm. We frequently find ourselves in other solar systems, and your name, well, it has come up. I have to admit I was curious.”

Hours of being here, and her paranoia hadn’t subsided even a little. She was still completely on edge, hovering around the outside of the room, pointedly avoiding the bar, and hyperfocusing on anything that seemed even remotely out of place. She had her camera out, taking pictures -- but there were plenty of reporters doing the same to hide her in plain sight. 

Sharon Carter. He should’ve known right from the start that she was Peggy’s niece. It was obvious in hindsight, really. They both had that same tenacity, that same fierce determination to do what was right, no matter who stood in their path. No, you move. Both women lived by that mantra. 

Sharon had always been there for him, even when it was dangerous for her to do so. She’d assisted the resistance he led against the first Panel, and then kept funneling him information throughout the Skrull invasion. As much as she could anyway -- it’d been hard to tell who to trust then. Now, Steve was hoping she’d help him once more. 

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, smiling at her as he slid into the booth. The diner was pretty crowded, which gave them great cover. “Still shocks me how many people there are,” he said, shaking his head as he glanced around. “I don’t think you could’ve gotten this many people in one place for anything less than the world fair back in my day.”