The attack began at 6 PM Los Angeles time, exactly as Sofia had predicted. Not one explosion but six simultaneous detonations across the city , Extremis subjects positioned at critical locations, triggering at coordinated moments to create maximum disruption.
David watched from the Foundation's relocated coordination center , a hastily established operation in a more defensible location , as emergency reports flooded in. LAX airport, Union Station, Santa Monica Pier, the Convention Center, two major highway interchanges. Each explosion was devastating, killing dozens and injuring hundreds more. And each one was designed to overwhelm emergency services and create chaos that would distract from Killian's primary objective.
"He's doing exactly what you predicted," Marcus said, coordinating Foundation response teams across the affected areas. "Multiple simultaneous crises, emergency services fragmented trying to respond to all of them, perfect conditions for a high-value assassination attempt."
"Where's Tony?" David asked, monitoring communications channels linking them to the Iron Man assault on Killian's remaining facility.
"En route to the Chinese Theatre. He's trying to intercept Killian before the primary attack, but he's fighting through Extremis-enhanced security to get there. It's going to be close."
On screens around David, the chaos played out in real-time. Emergency vehicles rushing to attack sites, panicked civilians evacuating areas, media coverage showing destruction and confusion. And in the middle of it all, Foundation teams were deploying , medical personnel providing trauma care, coordinators helping organize evacuation, communications specialists maintaining information flow when official systems were overloaded.
It was the Chitauri invasion in miniature , not aliens from space but human-created catastrophe, not a single focal point but distributed chaos, not supernatural threat but technological danger. Different specifics, same essential challenge: helping ordinary people survive extraordinary circumstances.
Sarah's voice came through David's comms, strained with stress. "David, we're at the Convention Center blast site. Casualties are in the dozens, possibly more trapped in collapsed sections. The explosion caused structural damage , parts of the building are unstable. We need search and rescue capabilities we don't have."
"Coordinate with LAFD. They should have urban search and rescue teams en route." David was already coordinating with Los Angeles emergency management. "Priority is getting people out of unstable areas before secondary collapse. Medical treatment comes after evacuation."
"Understood. But David, some of these injuries... they're not normal blast trauma. There's thermal damage, chemical burns, injuries consistent with exposure to extreme heat from inside the body. Whatever Extremis does to people before they explode, it's horrific."
David thought about Killian's victims , people transformed into biological weapons, probably coerced or deceived into accepting the enhancement, then triggered to explode at designated moments. The human cost of the technology was staggering, measured not just in the casualties from explosions but in the lives weaponized and destroyed.
"Do what you can for survivors," David told Sarah. "Document unusual injury patterns for federal investigation. Focus on saving who we can save."
The next hour was consumed with coordinating response across six attack sites simultaneously. Foundation teams worked alongside local emergency services, filling gaps and providing specialized capabilities. They weren't leading response , that was the job of professional emergency managers , but they were critical force multipliers, adding capacity when systems were overwhelmed.
At 7:15 PM, Tony's voice came through on the private channel linking him to David's coordination center. "Chen, I'm engaging Killian at the Chinese Theatre. He's got multiple Extremis subjects positioned as security and staff. The President is secure for now but this is about to get very loud and very destructive. Keep your people away from this area , there's going to be collateral damage."
"Understood. We're positioned to respond once the primary engagement concludes. Take him down, Tony."
"Working on it. Fair warning: this guy is enhanced himself. Extremis at levels beyond what we've seen from other subjects. He's basically a walking furnace with regenerative capabilities. This is going to be difficult."
The communications cut off as Tony engaged Killian in combat that David could only monitor through fragmented reports and distant visual feeds. Multiple Iron Man suits fighting an opponent who could heat metal to melting points, regenerate from massive damage, and fought with the desperation of someone who'd staked everything on this plan.
David wanted to be there, wanted to help somehow, wanted to be more than a coordinator watching from safe distance. But this was his role , maintaining the broader response while heroes fought dramatic battles. It was necessary work, valuable work, but it felt inadequate watching Tony risk his life while David pushed icons on a screen and coordinated logistics.
"Stop that," Patricia said, apparently reading his expression. "Logistical coordination is what keeps people alive during crises. Tony's doing his job, you're doing yours. Both matter."
"I know. Doesn't make it feel less frustrating."
At 7:47 PM, the battle at the Chinese Theatre concluded. Tony's report was brief: "Killian down. President secure. Multiple casualties but primary objective failed. Venue is a wreck and there are fires everywhere. Send your people , we need emergency medical and evacuation support."
David dispatched Foundation teams immediately, redirecting resources from sites that had stabilized to the new focal point. As they arrived at the Chinese Theatre, the scope of destruction became clear , the historic venue was heavily damaged from the battle, fires burning in multiple locations, structural instability threatening collapse, and dozens of people injured from combat spillover.
But the President was alive, Killian was defeated, and the assassination plot had failed.
Over the next six hours, Foundation teams worked alongside emergency services to stabilize the theatre, evacuate injured people, and begin the long process of recovery. David coordinated from his command center, maintaining communications and resource flow, ensuring their people had what they needed to function effectively.
It was 2 AM when Tony appeared at David's coordination center, his armor damaged and his face showing exhaustion that went beyond physical fatigue.
"We won," Tony said without preamble. "Killian's dead, his Extremis operation is destroyed, and the President is safe. But the cost..." He trailed off, gesturing at screens showing casualty numbers that were still climbing. "Over two hundred dead from the distributed attacks. Thousands injured. Infrastructure damage in the hundreds of millions. And all of it because I was an asshole to Aldrich Killian fifteen years ago and he decided to turn personal grievance into terrorist campaign."
"This isn't your fault," David said firmly. "Killian made choices. He chose to continue dangerous research after you shut it down. He chose to weaponize people through Extremis. He chose to orchestrate terrorist attacks and attempt presidential assassination. Those are his choices, not consequences of your past behavior."
"Easy to say. Harder to believe." Tony collapsed into a chair, looking more vulnerable than David had seen him. "You know what the worst part is? We won. We stopped the bad guy, saved the President, prevented worse catastrophe. But sitting here at 2 AM looking at casualty numbers, it doesn't feel like victory. It feels like we were too slow, too reactive, too many steps behind someone who planned better than we anticipated."
David understood that feeling intimately , the survivor's guilt, the awareness of people you couldn't save despite your best efforts, the weight of knowing that competence wasn't the same as adequacy. "We did what we could with what we knew when we knew it. That's all anyone can do."
"Is it enough?"
"It has to be. Because the alternative is giving up, and I don't think either of us is capable of that."
Tony looked at him with something between respect and shared exhaustion. "You're handling this better than I expected. Most people would be celebrating the victory or collapsing from relief. You're just... continuing to work."
"Because the work doesn't stop when the dramatic battle ends. Recovery is longer, harder, and less celebrated than the fight. But it's where most people's experience of crisis actually lives." David gestured at his screens showing ongoing response operations. "Your suits can defeat enhanced threats in combat. Foundation infrastructure helps thousands of ordinary people survive and recover. Both matter. Neither is sufficient alone."
"Infrastructure and heroism working together," Tony mused. "That's what we've built here, isn't it? Not just an alliance of convenience but a genuine operational integration of complementary capabilities."
"That was always the goal. I'm glad it's working."
Over the following days, the scope of what the Foundation had accomplished in Los Angeles became clear. Their teams had provided medical treatment to over eight hundred casualties across multiple sites. Their coordination had helped evacuate thousands from danger zones. Their communications networks had maintained information flow when official systems were fragmented. And their preparedness , the pre-positioned supplies, trained personnel, and established protocols , had enabled response that saved lives.
Media coverage highlighted the Foundation's role alongside Tony's dramatic victory. David gave a brief statement crediting his team and emphasizing the importance of disaster preparedness, then refused further interviews to focus on actual work.
But the attention had consequences. The Foundation's capabilities were now nationally visible, their effectiveness proven under combat conditions, and their value as crisis response infrastructure undeniable. Which meant decisions about federal partnerships, Stark Industries collaboration, and organizational expansion became more urgent.
One week after the Los Angeles crisis, David convened his core team to finalize decisions about the partnership offers they'd been analyzing.
"We've delayed as long as we can," James said, displaying financial analysis. "The partnerships provide resources we need for sustainable expansion. Without them, we're constrained to current scale and vulnerable to the next major crisis depleting our reserves."
"But accepting partnerships changes who we are," Isabella countered. "We become part of official structures, subject to their oversight and priorities. That's not inherently bad, but it is transformation from grassroots organization to established institution."
"A transformation we've been moving toward since the Chitauri invasion," Patricia pointed out. "We're already operating at institutional scale. The question is whether we formalize it with supportive partnerships or try to maintain the fiction that we're still a scrappy nonprofit."
Sofia had been working through digital security implications. "I can build compartmentalized systems that allow partnership coordination while protecting our core operations from partner oversight. It's technically complex but achievable. We can be in official structures without being controlled by them."
Sarah spoke with her characteristic ethical concern. "My question is: can we maintain our values , community first, people over profit, service over prestige , while operating in partnership with federal bureaucracy and corporate entities? Or do those relationships slowly corrupt our mission through compromise and adaptation to partner expectations?"
It was the central question David had been wrestling with since the partnership offers arrived. Growth required resources. Resources came with obligations. Obligations created pressure to adapt. Adaptation could mean mission drift. But refusing growth meant accepting limitations that could cost lives during the next crisis.
"Here's what I think," David said finally. "We accept all three partnerships but structure them carefully. Stark Industries provides technology and capital with minimal oversight. Federal designation provides political protection and crisis coordination with clear boundaries on their authority. City partnership provides local legitimacy and community connections. Each relationship serves different functions, and collectively they enable capabilities we couldn't achieve independently."
He looked around at his team. "But we also build explicit safeguards. Annual mission reviews where we assess whether partnerships are supporting or corrupting our values. Exit clauses that let us terminate relationships if they become problematic. And most importantly , we maintain community accountability as our ultimate authority. The people we serve get to tell us if we're losing our way."
"That's workable," Marcus said. "Multilateral partnerships with mission protection mechanisms. It's complicated, but complication is manageable if it's intentional."
"Then we move forward," David decided. "James, finalize negotiations with clear emphasis on autonomy protections. Patricia, develop implementation plans that maintain operational integrity. Sofia, build the compartmentalized systems. Everyone, prepare for the Foundation's next evolution."
The team dispersed to execute, leaving David alone with the weight of decisions that would shape the Foundation's future. They were committing to growth, to partnerships, to becoming something larger and more complex than the scrappy nonprofit he'd started three years ago.
It was necessary. It was concerning. It was what the moment required.
David pulled up his threat timeline, noting that the Mandarin crisis was resolved but other threats were approaching. SHIELD's collapse and Hydra's full exposure were coming , maybe six months away, maybe sooner given how timelines were diverging. After that, Ultron's eventual re-emergence. Then Sokovia, the Accords, Thanos, the Snap.
The work never stopped. The threats kept coming. And the Foundation kept growing, adapting, trying to build something that would help ordinary people survive impossible situations.
It was exhausting. It was meaningful. It was all David knew how to do.
Outside his window, Brooklyn moved through its evening rhythms, ordinary people living ordinary lives, unaware of the cosmic threats approaching and the desperate preparations being made on their behalf.