Part 1: The Return
Location: Avengers Compound, War Room Time: Morning, following the destruction of the Hydra hub
The table was crowded. Steve Rogers stood at the head, arms crossed tight. His face was locked in that familiar frown of concern and restrained authority.
Tony Stark leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Wanda stood to the side, arms folded, her expression unreadable. Natasha sat, silent, watching the screen.
On it, satellite footage played on loop. A freight hub in Brooklyn—now nothing more than scorched ruins. Flame. Rubble. No survivors. The heat signature was massive. Controlled. Intentional.
"Was it us?" Steve asked. "Did anyone authorize a strike there? A sweep?"
Tony remained silent, jaw tight. Wanda said nothing, but her eyes flickered toward the door Riven had entered through. Natasha leaned back slightly in her chair, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. None of them spoke up.
"Xavier?"
Natasha's silence answered that.
Wanda finally spoke. "We didn't send anyone."
Steve narrowed his eyes at the footage. "Then who the hell did this?"
The doors opened.
Riven walked in, shoulder bandaged and blood-soaked. He moved with calm purpose, but the tension radiated off him like heat from a forge.
Every eye in the room turned.
Sam Wilson stood near the back wall, arms folded. Vision hovered just to the side, his expression neutral but attentive.
Steve took a step forward. "You went on your own. You launched a strike. You know how dangerous that was."
Riven looked at him. Cold. Calm.
"It was necessary."
Tony stood now, hands in his pockets. "He had the file. He acted. I'm not saying I endorse midnight solo missions, but I get it. We all saw what was in that facility. We all know what Hydra did."
Sam stepped forward, jaw tight, eyes fixed on Riven. "You went too far. You didn't just stop them—you butchered them. There's a difference. Even with Hydra, there's supposed to be a line. You crossed it without blinking. That's not justice—that's vengeance."
Riven didn't look away. "They earned it. Every scream I heard for four years. Every child they bled dry while I was chained to a slab. You think a prison sentence fixes that?"
Sam's voice rose. "Then what? We let you decide who lives and dies now? You think pain makes you judge, jury, and executioner?"
"No," Riven said, voice flat. "Pain made me see what the rest of you chose to ignore."
Steve raised a hand between them, his tone sharp. "Enough. Both of you. We handle threats, we don't become them."
Riven glanced between them, then turned toward the door, the tension thick as steel behind him.
Vision added, "The mission may have lacked protocol, but the intent was… pure."
Steve stepped forward, voice rising. "And you think doing this alone, bleeding in the street, was the smart move? You think going full executioner helps anyone?"
Riven's eyes locked onto his, hard and unmoving. "I think doing nothing while they kept torturing kids would've made me worse than them."
"You don't get to decide justice by yourself," Steve shot back. "You're not judge, jury—"
"No," Riven cut in, his voice razor-sharp. "I'm the result of what happens when you all wait too long. You had your missions. Your rules. I had reality."
"That's not how we protect people—"
"Then maybe you've forgotten what it looks like when people need protecting!" Riven barked.
The room went still. Even Sam glanced down, jaw tight.
Wanda watched him carefully. Natasha said nothing.
Steve gestured toward the screen, the wreckage still glowing. "And the others? Who helped you?"
Riven said nothing.
Tony stepped in. "Does it matter? He cleaned out a nest. That's one less hellhole turning kids into corpses."
Steve turned toward him. "That's not the point."
"No," Tony said sharply, "it's exactly the point."
Riven looked down at his shoulder, flexed it once. The flesh was slowly knitting back together. "Let them know I'm coming. Let them all know."
Silence followed.
Riven turned, walking out without another word.
Riven looked down at his shoulder, flexed it once. The flesh was slowly knitting back together. "Good. Let them hear it."