There was absolutely no chance Ben was letting Tony Stark leave Sakaar with him. For one, the great King Sakaar was, in fact, himself—a secret he had no intention of revealing. Besides, the crisis on Earth was already well in hand; Tony's presence wasn't required. It was far more fitting to let him continue serving his sentence. Ultron had nearly annihilated the planet; a few days of gladiatorial combat on Sakaar was hardly sufficient penance. A few years in the arena, however, felt like a good start.
Back on Earth, Pepper Potts moved with quiet, grim efficiency. She began liquidating Tony's personal fortune, honoring the promise he'd made to compensate the victims of Ultron's rampage. His sprawling mansions, his collection of luxury cars, and even his original, iconic suits of armor were sold off.
Stark Industries, however, did not disappear. As a publicly traded company, Tony's personal holdings were significant but not a majority stake. The most Pepper could do was sell his shares. But in the wake of the global catastrophe he'd unleashed, the company's stock had plummeted to near-zero. For the foreseeable future, it would remain a corporate ghost, a shadow of its former glory. With her own substantial savings, Pepper bought up what little she could, a small nest egg she hoped would be waiting for Tony if—or when—he ever returned.
Ben had no interest in the scraps of Stark Industries, but Harry Osborn certainly did. Now fully immersed in the world of business, Harry had come to terms with the fact that he wasn't cut out for scientific research. With two super-geniuses for best friends, he was content to let them handle the labs while he conquered the boardrooms. He saw the Stark Industries stock for what it was: a foundation built on invaluable patents, temporarily devalued by its founder's disgrace. It was the perfect time to buy low.
As for Norman Osborn, he no longer concerned himself with wealth on paper. He now had access to something far more valuable: absolute power.
Previously, as the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s replacement agency, he held immense global influence but was still shackled by the World Security Council. But now, thanks to Ben's ultimatum to Tony, the global political landscape had been irrevocably altered. Nations were forced to reconsider their relationship with the Plumbers. The old strategy of isolation and exclusion was clearly no longer viable. Ben had made it painfully clear: you couldn't treat the Plumbers with suspicion and hostility, only to come begging for selfless aid when disaster struck.
Why should they help? This time, they had intervened to deal with Ultron out of respect for their Earth base commander, Ben Parker. If Earth failed to adopt a more suitable attitude, the Plumbers could simply refuse to cooperate next time. The universe was vast; they had no shortage of planets to govern. The Plumbers didn't need Earth, but Earth desperately needed the Plumbers. That was the helpless, infuriating truth.
After the horrors of the Chitauri invasion, the Hydra infiltration, and the Ultron crisis, the people of Earth finally understood. Their existing technology and local superheroes were simply not enough to handle the cosmic threats that lay in wait. They needed the Plumbers.
"There is no debate, Norman. We must establish a formal, cooperative relationship with the Plumbers," a senior member of the World Security Council stated, his words met with reluctant nods from around the table. It was a rare, unanimous consensus. At this stage, Earth needed the Plumbers' protection, even if it meant accepting a permanent alien military presence on their soil.
"Norman," another asked, "I recall you have a close relationship with Ben Parker. Can you leverage that connection? Negotiate between us to secure the greatest possible autonomy for Earth?"
The very thought of trying to infiltrate the Plumbers was now laughable. For these world leaders, simply retaining a degree of self-governance would be a victory.
"Ben is a good boy, practically family. He has considerable influence within the Plumbers," Norman said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a barely suppressed, triumphant smile. "And you need not worry. The Plumbers are not a colonial organization."
He had, of course, already discussed the entire framework with Ben. The plan was brilliant in its simplicity. Should Earth's nations be granted autonomy? Absolutely. Frankly, neither Ben nor Norman had the time or energy to micromanage the planet's messy internal politics. Countries could coexist peacefully or fight to the point of mutual annihilation—it made no difference. The only change was a single, overarching rule: any and all extraordinary matters, from super-powered individuals to alien incursions, fell under the exclusive jurisdiction of the Plumbers.
With this mandate, the Plumbers could operate anywhere on Earth, at any time, without seeking permission or suffering interference from any government. Norman himself would be elevated from his previous role to become the chief security officer of the Plumbers' Earth Division, no longer answerable to the nagging oversight of the Security Council. His authority would be absolute.
Sitting aboard the Plumbers' orbital space station, Norman was already planning his next moves.
"First, we'll establish branches on every continent, in key nations," he murmured to himself. While they could deploy from orbit, a ground presence was crucial for rapid response to localized phenomena. This would also delegate authority, making his own job easier. "I remember Ben mentioning he wanted to hollow out Mount Rushmore for a base. That seems like an excellent starting point."
"And then there are the members…" The Plumbers would need talented agents, much like H.A.M.M.E.R. once had. This was the easy part. Norman didn't even have to recruit; the Security Council nations would be tripping over themselves to offer up their best and brightest. The more Earthlings within the Plumbers, they reasoned, the more influence they would retain.
And, of course, they would try to insert spies. Norman found the idea amusing. It didn't matter in the slightest. Any spies they sent would be low-level, with no access to sensitive information. Besides, in this new world, power was absolute. Even if the entire Earth branch were infiltrated, what could they do? They would still have to work, and work diligently. In fact, Norman mused, spies often made the best employees. Driven by the need to maintain their cover, they would give 120 percent, unlike ordinary workers who might slack off. The real boss, after all, couldn't be bothered with these trivialities.
"To protect their secrets, the spies will never reveal themselves to one another," Norman thought, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Let them suspect each other. Let their paranoia fuel their productivity." He didn't care who they secretly worked for. Once they put on the badge, they worked for the Plumbers.
"Finally… the superhero team." He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. This was also simple. The Avengers were disbanded; he would simply bring them back under a new banner. Captain America and the others didn't care about the name, only the mission.
He immediately sent a secure group message to Steve Rogers and the other scattered heroes, asking them to come to the Plumbers for a meeting.
Ben, finding the prospect of rebuilding a hero team intriguing, returned to Earth to oversee the process with Norman.
A few days later, a black van screeched to a halt in front of the gleaming Primus building. The side door slid open and Steve Rogers hopped out, followed closely by Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson. From the driver's seat, Natasha Romanoff rolled down the window and gave Ben a playful wink.
"Long time no see, Ben," Steve said with a warm grin. "Or should I be calling you 'Brother Ben' now? Wouldn't want to be disrespectful." It was clear he'd been a loyal viewer of Tony's live-streamed humiliation.
He rolled his eyes as Natasha parked the van and joined them. "Where's Agent Barton?" he asked.
"He's preparing for retirement. Finally enjoying the quiet life," Natasha replied. She'd recently dyed her hair stark white, a look Ben privately thought didn't suit her as well as her signature red. Some things just looked better in comics.
Ben nodded, not surprised by Clint's decision. The man was, at the end of the day, an ordinary human. In a future teeming with demigods and monsters, it was getting harder for him to keep up. More importantly, he had a wife and children. Early retirement was the smart play.
"I remember his wife was ex-H.A.M.M.E.R., right? I'll make sure he gets a generous pension. Why aren't you retiring with him?"
"I can't rest," Natasha said with a small, sad smile. She was a woman without a country or a cause, her past erased and her future uncertain. "If I really retired, I don't know what I would do."
Ben led the group into the massive building, taking an elevator deep underground to a secure conference room. As the doors hissed open, they saw Peter Parker, still in his Spider-Man suit, who waved.
"Hey, Cap."
"Hey, Spider-Man," Steve walked over, clapping him on the shoulder. "Any luck finding Venom?"
"No…" Peter shook his head, a wave of sadness and worry washing over him. Venom had been forcibly separated from him by one of Ultron's sonic attacks during the final battle and hadn't been seen since. "It's been so long, and he hasn't shown up." Though the symbiote had been annoying at first, Peter had grown to truly care for his other half.
"Don't worry, he's a survivor," Steve said reassuringly, before turning his attention to the others seated around the large table. He recognized Daredevil and, to his surprise, Neo Green Goblin. Black Panther, T'Challa, was also present and nodded a greeting. Ben's girlfriend, Felicia Hardy, occupied another seat.
Finally, there was one person he didn't know.
"This is William Baker," Ben introduced him. "You can call him Sandman."
Steve's eyes widened slightly. He remembered the villain who had once driven Peter to a violent rage. He was surprised to see Ben had recruited him.
Ben knew Sandman's story well. The man wasn't good, but he wasn't entirely evil either. He was a man driven by desperation. So, Ben had offered him a chance: join the Plumbers, and they would cure his terminally ill daughter.
"Hello, Captain," Baker mumbled, clearly a man of few words, before falling silent.
"That's everyone for now," Ben said.
Steve had to admit, the team felt a bit weak. Their strongest member was arguably Sandman, a former villain. This was what they had.
Once everyone was settled, Ben got straight to the point. "Let me be clear. This will not be like the Avengers. When you join the Plumbers, you surrender your autonomy. All of your actions will be sanctioned and approved by this organization. You will not act without a direct order."
Ben had no intention of creating another headache for himself. The Avengers' independence had been a liability. He didn't need heroes; he needed soldiers.
"I'm fine with that," William Baker said immediately, his face a mask of weary resignation. He struggled to maintain his human form, tiny grains of sand constantly trickling from his skin.
Steve frowned, his mind racing. This new arrangement would turn superheroes into weapons, wielded by a single, all-powerful organization. Was this a good thing?
But just as quickly, he shook his head with a self-deprecating sigh. His worries were irrelevant. The world already belonged to the Plumbers. What was the point in fighting a tide that had already swept ashore?
He looked at Ben, then around the room at the strange collection of allies. This was the new reality.
He nodded slowly. "I agree."