With the telescopic vision in his visor, Iron Man saw that Peter Parker had managed to climb up his web and cling to the rocket. Doing a fast calculation, he determined the teen had exactly 8.6 seconds to live before the spaceship broke the atmosphere, cutting off his air.

“FRIDAY, give me some juice,” he ordered and personal rockets unfolded from his suit and boots, propelling him with a BOOM into the air. Bruce watched and the man of science said a small prayer for a boy he'd just met.

Trying not to panic, Tony barked, “Unlock 14-A.”

FRIDAY complied with the order and miles away, in the former Avengers headquarters, a storage bay marked 14-A opened. A pod sped out at faster than sound speed, targeted on Spider-Man.

Peter was getting tired, cold, and lightheaded from lack of air. His ears were ringing, which is why he thought Iron Man was crazy when he heard him next.

“Pete,” Tony said, “you gotta let go. I'm gonna catch you.”

Gripping his mask, Peter pulled it off to get more air. 3.9 seconds of oxygen left, by Tony's calculation. “But you...said...save the wizard.” It was difficult to talk. “Can't breathe,” Peter gasped.

Tony shook his head. He would not lose Spider-Man! “We're too high up. You're running out of air.”

At his words, Peter fell off the ship and into the Earth's atmosphere. Tony was too far away to catch him, but the object in 14-A was right on time. Slamming into Peter's back, it began to form a metallic-like suit that looked like a modified version of his own. Tony's nanites! He had designed Spider-Man a suit!

The suit fully formed around Peter, mask included. Spider-Man bounced off the circular ship...and stuck like a magnet. Well, more like a spider, Peter thought as oxygen from the internal systems filled his lungs.

“Whoa! Mister Stark, it smells like new car in here!”

Tony smiled. There was the boy who had been dogging him to become an Avenger for the past year. “Happy trails, kid.” Before Peter could ask what that meant, a parachute unfolded behind him, pulling him off the craft, designed to take him gently through the Earth's atmosphere without burning.

“Oh come on !”

With Spider-Man safely Earthbound, Iron Man attached himself to the ship and began using lasers from his gauntlet to cut into the hull. A piece flew out and Tony hoisted himself in. Looking around, it was like nothing he had seen before, yet strangely familiar, as were all things Thanos. Ghosts floating in his mind for six years ever since he first made contact during the climax of the Battle of New York. Pressing a button, his boots activated stealth mode and he silently began to examine the invading ship.

Unknown to Iron Man, it would take more than a parachute to stop Peter Parker, ultimate science teen, to get his first glimpse of space. Having detached the 'chute, Spider-Man was crawling hand over hand on the webbing attached to the vessel, grunting and wishing he'd paid more attention in science class.

Heaving, he managed to flip in through the hole in the hull Iron Man had cut just as emergency door sealed the entrance shut.

Standing at the controls, Ebony Maw entered coordinates and smiled. He turned, knowing his father would be pleased. The mystic was on his way to Titan, where Thanos would be able to retrieve the Time Stone.

In a flash of light, the circular ship hit hyperspace and vanished into the far reaches of the galaxy.

Miles below, Bruce Banner and Wong stood in the streets of Manhattan, wreckage surrounding them. They watched helplessly as the ship vanished from orbit. Sighing heavily, Wong opened a portal to the Sanctum Santorum, stepped through, and began to ascend the crumbling stairs.

“Where are you going?” Bruce asked.

“The Time Stone has been taken,” Wong sighed. “The Sanctum remains unguarded.” Wong's voice was heavy with responsibility. Bruce noticed it was tinged with sadness. “What will you do?”

Before he could answer, something caught Bruce's eye in the rubble: Tony's flip phone. He opened it and, miraculously, it powered on. STEVE ROGERS remained the only contact in the phone.

Lifting it to his ear, Bruce looked at Wong with a glimmer of hope entering his eye for the first time in years.

“I'm gonna make a call.”

* * *

Light-years away a sleek orange and silver ship sliced through space, some of Earth's classic hits from the 1970s and 80s filling the cabin, its highly eclectic crew singing along. The ship: The Milano. The crew: The Guardians of the Galaxy.

Nowhere else in the galaxy could you find Star-Lord, a human raised by pirates; Gamora, a green-skinned warrior woman raised by Thanos; Mantis, a pale empath with antennae on her head; Drax, a muscular green hued alien with intricate tattoos; Groot, a sentient sapling; and Rocket, a foul-mouthed genetically modified raccoon; all banded together to save the galaxy (and maybe plunder a few leftovers).

“Why are we doing this again?” yawned Rocket, regarding their current mission.

Still bopping her head to the music, Gamora glanced back at the ship's co-pilot. “Because it's a distress signal, Rocket,” she reasoned. “Someone could be dying.”

Rocket rolled his eyes. “I get that, but why are we doing it?”

Peter Quill and Gamora exchanged looks. Star-Lord knew that particular look, so he trod carefully. “Because we're nice.” Gamora smiled and turned her attention back to the tracker that had picked up the distress signal.

Thinking she was out of earshot, Quill leaned back and winked at Rocket. “And maybe whoever it is will give us a little cheddar cheese for our effort.”

“Which isn't the point,” Gamora admonished without turning.

“Which isn't the point,” Quill echoed.

Rocket was about to protest when the antennae on Mantis's pale head perked and her pitch black eyes widened. “We are arriving.”

“All right, Guardians, don't forget this could be dangerous,” Quill said, sounding like a football coach, “so let's put on our mean faces.” Granted, not the best coach.

The electronic bleeps of a video game cut the stillness of the ship's cockpit. All eyes turned to Groot, who had grown since their encountered with Ego to the size of a teenager. Apparently, so had his attitude. One leg-like branch was slung over the arm of his chair, his attention focus on the handheld game he was playing.

Quill gritted his teeth, a familiar argument brewing. “Groot, put that thing away now. I don't wanna tell you again.”

Without looking up, Groot made a face and sneered “I am Groot.”

Everyone's eyes widened in shock. “Hey! Language!” Rocket scolded. Groot gave a derisive grunt in response.

“Keep it up and I'm gonna smash that thing to pieces,” Rocket threatened.

The argument was cut short by a tiny gasp from Mantis, who pointed to the window of the cockpit. “What happened?”

Through the glass they saw the utter destruction of the Statesman . Wreckage, bent metal, lifeless bodies, all floating in deep-space. Alone and forgotten. Left to never be discovered.

“Looks like we're not getting paid,” Rocket whispered, about to turn.

WHAM!

Something, rather someone, slammed into the cockpit window. Thor's body splayed across the glass. Inside, the Guardians tried to regain their composure, and failed.

“Whoa!” Gamora and Drax exclaimed simultaneously.

“Ew!” Rocket exclaimed, climbing closer to see that Thor did indeed only have one eye.

“Oooh!” Mantis squeaked at the sight.

Rocket began searching switched in the cockpit. “Wipers! Wipers! Get it off!” he freaked out.

Quill leaned in to look closer, oddly calm. He quickly jumped back as Thor's one good eye snapped open.