I Arrive, and the World Gains Hope

What bad intentions could a young man who spent his whole life loving to show off possibly have?

Ian loved this feeling.

He maintained his solemnity and swept his gaze over the battlefield.

Over Dormammu's enormous flaming face, blotting out the sky.

Over the shriveled remains of Hulk at the bottom of the crater, his eyes solidified like molten lava.

Over the blood-soaked superheroes being carried away on stretchers amid the ruins.

Over the ordinary civilians kneeling on the ground, over the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents standing at the edge of the wreckage, over each of his human compatriots who had their heads raised, looking at him with faces full of complicated emotions.

Then—

The corners of his mouth rose slightly.

It was not a laugh, nor a smile. It was that kind of solemnity put on for effect. He saw the civilians kneeling on the ground. He saw the complex expressions on their faces, a mixture of shock, awe, hope, and faith.

He saw those superheroes.

He saw the confusion on Steve's face, the wariness on Clint's, the scrutiny on Natasha's, and the complicated look on Strange's face that said, "What exactly did I summon?"

He saw the astonishingly bright look in Thor's eyes as he was carried away on a stretcher.

He saw Carol's eyes, refusing to close even as she lay on a stretcher, staring fixedly at him.

He was very satisfied.

Truly, very satisfied.

This aura of awesomeness had been grasped just right.

He did not speak. He only stood there. He let the golden light envelop his entire body, let the sacred hymns echo behind him, let the three souls he had enslaved play the part of angels guarding him below.

He let everyone guess for themselves, imagine for themselves, revere for themselves.

Not speaking was more