Nebula stared at the ground, an expression of horrified understanding on her face. “He did it,” she said quietly.

Tony Stark, for the first time in his life, was at a loss of words. He covered his mouth in utter sorrow, the realization of what happened sinking in.

Peter Parker, the kid that he had recruited just a couple of years ago, was dead. Had died before his very eyes. Turned into nothing more than brown powder that had dispersed on the wind.

Why? Why couldn’t he have saved him? Why didn’t he stop him? Why did he recruit him all those years ago when he knew he was just a teenager? He clearly understood that the boy could die but he he had decided to involve him in the fight anyway. And now, the very nightmare that he prayed wouldn’t come true had happened. And he didn’t know what to do.

Tony stared upward at the burnished sky, the sun casting a haunting glow on the destroyed planet. Tears poured down his cheeks and his eyes were red.

And still he had no words to speak. The dense silence was the only entity that was speaking. And it was deafening.


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