The seventy-two hours before the invasion were the longest and shortest of David's life. Every minute felt both interminable and insufficient, too much time to dwell on what was coming, not enough to complete all the preparations his mind conjured in moments of panic.
The Foundation's properties hummed with controlled urgency. Staff conducted final equipment checks and supply inventories with the focus of people who understood something significant was approaching, even if they didn't know exactly what. Property managers ran through evacuation procedures repeatedly. Medical clinics staged trauma supplies and expanded bed capacity. Community coordinators briefed trusted neighborhood leaders on emergency protocols.
David barely slept, dividing his time between properties, checking preparations obsessively, and making last-minute adjustments. Marcus shadowed him during these rounds, partly to provide security, partly to ensure David actually ate and rested occasionally, mostly because neither of them could stand to be away from the preparations they'd worked three years to build.
On the third morning, Sofia called an emergency meeting at 6 AM.
"The Tesseract is going critical," she announced without preamble, dark circles under her eyes suggesting she hadn't slept at all. "Energy readings are spiking beyond anything I've recorded. Whatever's been building is about to culminate. Best estimate: within the next twelve to twenty-four hours."
David felt his stomach drop. Today. It was happening today. After three years of preparation, after endless planning and building and positioning resources, the moment had arrived and somehow he still felt utterly unprepared.
"What's SHIELD's status?" Marcus asked, shifting immediately into operational mode.
"Elevated alert. They've evacuated their facility where the Tesseract is housed and established a perimeter in Midtown Manhattan. Military assets are being moved into position. Whatever they know or suspect, they're preparing for something major."
"Good," Patricia said, checking her tablet. "That suggests official emergency response will be coordinated. We can complement their efforts rather than operating completely independently."
"Everyone know their assignments?" David asked, looking around at his core team. They nodded, faces set with determination that barely masked fear. "Then let's activate full crisis protocols. This is what we've been building toward."
They dispersed to their posts, leaving David with the surreal feeling of being both completely ready and desperately inadequate. Three years of work was about to be tested against impossible odds.
The day unfolded with agonizing normalcy. Morning commuters flooded into Manhattan, unaware that the sky would split open before sunset. Children went to school. Businesses opened. The city moved through its rhythms like it had thousands of times before, blissfully ignorant that this day would cleave history into before and after.
David spent the morning at the South Bronx building, personally checking every system, every emergency supply cache, every structural element. Tyler followed him, saying little, his presence a steady comfort.
"You know the building's ready," Tyler finally said as David inspected the same support beam for the third time. "You built it right. It'll hold."
"I know. I just..." David trailed off, unable to articulate the fear that despite all his preparation, it wouldn't be enough. That people would die because of calculations he'd made wrong, resources he'd positioned poorly, protocols he'd designed inadequately.
"Boss." Tyler's voice was firm. "You're one person. You've done more than anyone had a right to expect. Whatever happens today, you've given people a chance they wouldn't have had otherwise. That's all anyone can do."
David nodded, trying to believe it. "Stay close to the building when it starts. This is the strongest structure we have. Get inside and help coordinate shelter operations."
"What about you?"
"I'll be moving between properties, assessing needs, coordinating response. Marcus's team will maintain communications and resource allocation."
"That's a lot of exposure," Tyler said carefully. "If things get as bad as you're expecting..."
"I have to be mobile. Can't direct response from one location." David met Tyler's eyes. "Take care of the people in this building. That's what matters."
Before Tyler could respond, David's phone buzzed. Sofia: Energy spike massive. Portal opening imminent. Minutes not hours.
David's hands went cold. "It's starting. Get inside, activate shelter protocols, and prepare for incoming civilians."
He was already moving toward the exit, calling Marcus as he ran. "Marcus, Sofia says we're minutes from portal opening. Activate all emergency protocols immediately."
"Confirmed. All properties are being notified. Emergency response teams are staging. Where do you need me?"
"Midtown coordination point. That's where the epicenter will be. I'm heading there now."
"David, that's the most dangerous, "
"I know. But I need to see it, need to understand what we're facing to coordinate effective response. I'll have Thomas drive, and I'll maintain comms. Trust me."
Marcus's reluctant agreement came through the phone. "Stay on comms. If I lose contact, I'm coming to extract you personally."
Thomas was already bringing the car around when David reached street level. The former Marine's expression was set in professional focus. "Where to, boss?"
"Midtown Manhattan. As close to Stark Tower as we can get."
Thomas pulled into traffic with aggressive efficiency, weaving through lanes while David monitored communications flooding in from Foundation properties. Staff were activating emergency protocols, moving supplies into position, opening buildings to begin receiving people. The machine they'd built was moving, all pieces coordinating toward a purpose most didn't fully understand.
They were ten blocks from Stark Tower when the sky tore open.
The portal appeared like a wound in reality, a circular rift of blue-white energy suspended hundreds of feet above Midtown, pulsing with power that made David's teeth ache even at this distance. For a moment, there was just the portal, impossible and terrifying, proof that David's three years of paranoid preparation weren't paranoid at all.
Then the Chitauri came through.
They poured from the portal in waves, alien soldiers riding one-person flying craft, their weapons already firing as they emerged. Behind them came the Leviathans, massive biomechanical creatures that looked like a nightmare fusion of whale and machine, their armored bodies carrying dozens more Chitauri soldiers.
The sounds hit a moment later: energy weapons firing, explosions, the screaming roar of the Leviathans, and underneath it all, the rising panic of millions of people realizing their world had just fundamentally changed.
"Jesus Christ," Thomas breathed, the car slowing as they both stared at the impossible scene unfolding. "You were right. You were actually right."
"Get us to the nearest Foundation property," David ordered, forcing his mind past shock into function. "We need a coordination point, and we can't get closer to that without getting killed."
Thomas reversed course, heading toward one of their Midtown community centers. David was already on the phone, connecting to the emergency communications network Sofia had established.
"All stations, this is Chen. The event has begun. Alien invasion is confirmed in Midtown Manhattan. Activate all emergency shelter protocols immediately. Open properties to civilians seeking safety. Medical facilities prepare for mass casualties. Community coordinators begin information distribution through all networks. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."
The responses came flooding back, confirmations from property managers, status updates from medical clinics, reports from community coordinators already mobilizing. The Foundation's infrastructure was activating exactly as designed, responding to crisis with practiced coordination.
But even as David directed response, he watched the invasion unfold with growing horror. The Chitauri weren't discriminating in their attacks, they fired on vehicles, buildings, civilians in the street. A Leviathan crashed through a skyscraper like it was paper, sending debris raining down. Explosions bloomed across the skyline. The sound of car alarms, shattering glass, and human screaming created a symphony of chaos.
And then, cutting through the chaos, came the heroes.
Iron Man streaked across the sky in his red and gold armor, energy weapons blazing as he engaged Chitauri fliers. Captain America appeared on the ground, his shield deflecting energy blasts as he directed civilian evacuations with the command presence of a soldier. Thor, an actual Norse god, just as David had said, summoned lightning that arced between alien soldiers. Black Widow and Hawkeye worked in deadly coordination, taking down Chitauri with professional efficiency.
The Avengers. Fighting to save the world exactly as David's fragmentary memories had promised they would.
David's phone was ringing constantly, Marcus coordinating security, Patricia managing logistics, Sarah reporting medical facility status, Isabella organizing community response. He answered each call while Thomas drove through increasingly chaotic streets, dodging panicked civilians and falling debris.
They reached the Midtown community center to find it already filling with people, civilians who'd fled the initial attack, seeking shelter from impossible danger. Foundation staff were directing them into the building with practiced efficiency, activating the shelter protocols they'd drilled endlessly but never thought they'd actually use.
David entered to controlled chaos. The community center's main hall was rapidly filling with people, families with children, elderly residents, workers who'd fled office buildings, anyone who'd sought the nearest safe haven. Foundation staff moved among them, providing water, basic medical attention, information, and most importantly, calm competence that helped stem panic.
Maria, David's assistant, found him immediately. "Mr. Chen, we're at sixty percent capacity and people are still arriving. The basement shelter is being activated now. Medical team is setting up triage in the gymnasium. We've established communications with other Foundation properties and official emergency services."
"Good work. Keep accepting people until we're at maximum safe capacity, then direct overflow to our Atlantic Avenue property or Henderson Park, both are farther from the battle and have capacity." David moved to the communications station Sofia had installed in every major property. "All stations, this is Chen. Status updates every fifteen minutes. Report capacity, supplies, casualties, and any immediate needs. We're coordinating resource distribution based on real-time information."
The reports came in rapidly. The South Bronx building was receiving hundreds of people fleeing north from Midtown. Henderson Park Community Center was serving as medical triage for casualties from Brooklyn. Properties across all boroughs were activating, transforming from community centers into emergency shelters in real-time.
And people were coming. Not just to Foundation properties, but everywhere, seeking safety, seeking help, seeking any authority that could make sense of aliens invading from the sky. The Foundation's infrastructure was being tested immediately and comprehensively.
David spent the next two hours moving between command communications and direct assistance. He helped staff organize incoming civilians, assessed supply needs, coordinated with other Foundation properties, and made real-time decisions about resource allocation. His three years of planning had prepared him for this, but the reality was both more chaotic and more functional than he'd anticipated.
Outside, the battle raged. Through windows, David could see Iron Man fighting aerial combat, Thor bringing lightning down on Leviathans, Captain America coordinating ground defense. The Avengers were holding the line, preventing the Chitauri from spreading beyond Midtown, buying time for evacuations.
But people were still dying. David could hear the explosions, see the smoke rising, know that despite all his preparation, there were people he couldn't reach, couldn't save, couldn't help. The weight of that knowledge sat in his chest like lead.
His phone rang. Marcus, his voice tight with controlled urgency. "David, we have a situation. The Meridian Holdings building in Midtown is in the direct battle zone and it's not evacuating properly. There are still people inside, and the structure is taking damage. If it collapses..."
"How many people?"
"Unknown. Possibly hundreds. It's a large commercial building, and for some reason they didn't evacuate when the attack started."
David's mind raced through implications. Meridian Holdings, Hydra's front organization that had been attacking the Foundation for three years. The building that served their operations. And now it was full of people, likely including both innocent workers and Hydra operatives, all about to be killed by alien invasion.
He should feel satisfaction. Hydra's building being destroyed by the very catastrophe David had prepared for while they'd been trying to stop him. It was poetic justice.
But all David could think about was the people inside. Regardless of who employed them or what organization they worked for, they were civilians being killed by forces they couldn't fight.
"Coordinate with official emergency services," David said. "See if NYPD or Fire can reach the building. If not... see if we can divert some of our community response volunteers to assist with evacuation."
"David, that's in the hot zone. It's incredibly dangerous."
"I know. But we help people, Marcus. Even people whose bosses tried to destroy us. Find a way."
After he hung up, David stood at the window, watching the battle and thinking about moral complexity. Three years ago, he'd identified Meridian Holdings as an enemy, probably Hydra-controlled, definitely trying to sabotage the Foundation. He'd planned around them, defended against them, prepared to outlast them.
Now their building was collapsing, their people were trapped, and David was sending resources to help them. Because that's what the Foundation did, helped people, regardless of politics or allegiance or past conflicts.
It was the right choice. It was also exhausting.
Four hours into the invasion, the pattern of battle began emerging. The Avengers were holding Midtown, preventing Chitauri spread, but they couldn't stop the aliens entirely. Stray Chitauri fliers ranged across the city, attacking targets of opportunity. Leviathan debris fell in massive chunks, crushing buildings and vehicles. Fires burned out of control in several locations. And everywhere, people were injured, traumatized, displaced.
The Foundation's infrastructure was handling the load, but barely. Properties were at or exceeding safe capacity. Medical facilities were overwhelmed with casualties. Supply caches were being depleted faster than anticipated. Staff were working beyond exhaustion, performing under impossible conditions with inspiring competence.
David was coordinating between the Midtown community center and other properties when Sarah called, her voice carrying barely suppressed panic.
"David, we have a major problem at the Henderson Park medical clinic. We're receiving casualties that exceed our capacity by a factor of three. Our supplies are depleting, our staff are overwhelmed, and ambulances can't reach us because roads are blocked. We need help or we're going to have to start turning people away."
"What do you need most urgently?"
"Medical supplies, trauma kits, blood products, pain management. Also, additional personnel if you can find any doctors or nurses. And some way to transfer the most critical patients to hospitals that have surgical capacity."
David's mind raced through resource allocation. "I'm sending emergency supplies from our Manhattan caches, Patricia is coordinating ground transport through cleared routes. For personnel, I'll reach out to the city partnership contacts, see if we can get medical volunteers redirected your way. For critical transfers, I'll coordinate with SHIELD or military medical evacuation if possible."
"Thank you. David, I need you to understand: we're doing incredible work here. We're saving lives that would be lost otherwise. But we're also losing people because we don't have enough of what we need. It's... it's hard."
"You're doing everything possible with what you have. That's all anyone can do. I'll get you resources. Hold the line."
After the call, David contacted Coulson directly. The SHIELD agent answered immediately, his voice carrying the stress of someone coordinating response to unprecedented catastrophe.
"Mr. Chen, I assume you're calling with either a request or a disaster report."
"A request. The Foundation's medical clinics are handling civilian casualties beyond their designed capacity. We need medical supply support and possible coordination for critical patient transfers to facilities with surgical capability."
"Your organization is providing disaster response?" Coulson's tone carried surprise. "I didn't realize you had that kind of infrastructure."
"We've been preparing for major emergency situations. Turns out alien invasion qualifies." David paused. "Agent Coulson, the Foundation has properties across the city providing shelter to thousands of civilians, medical facilities treating hundreds of casualties, and community networks coordinating ground-level mutual aid. We're not replacing official emergency response, we're complementing it. But we need coordination and support to function effectively."
"Give me your locations and immediate needs. I'll see what I can divert your way. And Mr. Chen? I owe you an apology. Your preparations weren't paranoia, they were prescience. A lot of people are alive right now because of infrastructure you built."
"Save the thank you for after we've survived this. Right now I need medical supplies and transport coordination."
Coulson came through within thirty minutes, military medical transport redirected to Henderson Park, supply caches opened to Foundation access, and official recognition of the Foundation as a disaster response partner. It wasn't perfect, but it was functional cooperation between David's grassroots infrastructure and official emergency systems.
The battle outside continued with brutal intensity. The Avengers were holding, but barely. Each Chitauri wave seemed larger than the last. The Leviathans were destroying buildings with terrifying efficiency. The portal showed no signs of closing.
And then, approximately six hours into the invasion, something changed.
The nuclear missile.
David saw it through the window, a military missile screaming toward Manhattan, clearly intended to destroy the invasion at the cost of the entire city. His heart stopped. This wasn't in his memories. This was new, unexpected, catastrophic.
But then Iron Man appeared, catching the missile, redirecting it upward toward the portal. The armored figure disappeared through the rift, carrying the weapon into the Chitauri's own space.
For a moment, David couldn't breathe. Tony Stark had just flown into an alien dimension carrying a nuclear weapon. The man was either going to save the city or die trying.
The portal began to destabilize. Energy signatures shifted, the blue-white glow flickering. The Chitauri forces suddenly lost coordination, their attacks becoming erratic. And then Iron Man appeared again, falling through the closing portal, his armor dark and unresponsive.
Thor caught him. The portal closed. The remaining Chitauri forces collapsed, their connection to command severed.
The invasion was over.
Around David, the community center erupted in sounds, relief, celebration, crying, the release of hours of accumulated terror. People hugged each other, strangers united by shared survival. Staff members collapsed in exhaustion and emotion. The noise was overwhelming and beautiful.
David stood at the window, watching smoke rise from Manhattan, seeing the devastation wrought across the city, counting the cost of survival in destroyed buildings and lost lives. They'd survived. The Avengers had saved the world. And the Foundation's infrastructure had helped save thousands of people who would have died otherwise.
But the price had been enormous.
The hours after the invasion were in some ways harder than the invasion itself. The immediate threat was gone, but the consequences remained, fires burning, injured people needing care, traumatized civilians needing shelter, and an entire city trying to process that aliens had just invaded Earth.
David coordinated Foundation response through the night. Medical facilities continued treating casualties. Shelters continued housing displaced people. Community networks began organizing recovery efforts. The infrastructure they'd built proved invaluable, not just during the attack but in the critical hours after when official systems were overwhelmed.
At 3 AM, David finally allowed himself to leave the Midtown community center, having confirmed it was stable and functioning. Thomas drove him back to Queens through streets that looked like war zones, burned vehicles, collapsed structures, debris everywhere. The scope of destruction was staggering.
Marcus met him at the Red Hook warehouse, looking as exhausted as David felt. "Status summary: all Foundation properties are secure and functional. We sheltered approximately eight thousand people across our facilities during the attack. Medical clinics treated over fifteen hundred casualties. No Foundation staff casualties, though several injuries. No critical structural failures in any of our buildings."
"The South Bronx building?"
"Held perfectly. Tyler reports that people felt safer in that building than anywhere else, said it felt solid even during explosions nearby. Your engineering was validated comprehensively."
David felt something release in his chest, relief, vindication, exhaustion all mixed together. "What about casualties overall? City-wide?"
Marcus's expression darkened. "Initial estimates suggest thousands dead, tens of thousands injured. Entire neighborhoods destroyed. Economic damage in the billions. It's catastrophic, David. Even with the Avengers' victory, this is the worst disaster in New York history."
"But it would have been worse without the Foundation's infrastructure," Patricia said, joining them. She looked professionally exhausted but grimly satisfied. "I've been coordinating with city emergency management. They're acknowledging that our properties saved lives, provided shelter, medical care, and coordination when official systems were overloaded. We made a difference."
"We did what we prepared to do," David replied. "But I keep thinking about all the people we couldn't reach, couldn't help, couldn't save."
"That's survivor's guilt talking," Marcus said firmly. "You built infrastructure that saved thousands of lives. You can't save everyone, David. That's not a failure, that's the reality of disaster response. You focus on what you did accomplish, not what was impossible."
David nodded, too exhausted to argue, not sure he believed it.
Over the next days, the full scope of what the Foundation had accomplished became clear. Official estimates credited Foundation facilities with providing emergency shelter to over eight thousand civilians, medical treatment to fifteen hundred casualties, and community coordination that had enabled effective mutual aid across affected neighborhoods. Media coverage began featuring Foundation properties as examples of resilient infrastructure and effective disaster response.
David gave exactly one press interview, a brief statement expressing grief for lives lost, pride in his team's response, and commitment to continuing recovery efforts. Then he refused all other media requests and focused on the work.
Because the work was immense. Buildings to repair. Displaced people to house. Traumatized communities to support. Recovery efforts to coordinate. The invasion might be over, but its consequences would echo for months or years.
And underneath the recovery work, David knew larger questions were brewing. How had he known to prepare for alien invasion? What did his foreknowledge suggest about future threats? Who was David Chen really, and what wasn't he saying?
Those questions would come. But first, there was work to do.
One week after the invasion, David called a meeting of the core team at the Red Hook warehouse. Everyone looked exhausted but also carried a particular energy, the satisfaction of people who'd been tested and proven capable.
"First," David said, "thank you. All of you. For trusting me when I sounded insane, for preparing when preparation seemed excessive, for executing under impossible conditions. You saved thousands of lives through competence, dedication, and courage. I'm honored to work with you."
"We did it together," Isabella said. "Everyone contributed. Every person in the Foundation played a role."
"Agreed. But now we need to talk about what comes next." David pulled up a news compilation showing post-invasion coverage. "The world knows aliens are real. SHIELD has been exposed as compromised by Hydra. The Avengers are public heroes. Everything has changed, and the Foundation needs to decide how we operate in this new reality."
"Specifically?" Patricia asked.
"Specifically: we're getting attention we can't deflect anymore. People want to know how we were prepared for alien invasion. They want to understand my 'prescience.' They're asking questions we haven't fully answered." David looked around at his team. "I promised that after the crisis, I'd tell you everything. That promise comes due now."
The room went quiet, everyone leaning forward.
"Three years ago, I woke up in this world with memories that aren't entirely mine. I'm David Chen, but I'm also someone else, someone from another world who lived a life where all of this, the MCU, the Avengers, the alien invasions, was fiction. Entertainment. I watched these events as movies, read about them in comics, knew the storyline like people know history."
He paused, expecting disbelief, mockery, dismissal. Instead, he saw his team processing, connecting dots, understanding clicking into place.
"You're from another universe," Sofia said slowly. "Or another timeline. Or something. That's how you knew what was coming."
"I don't know the mechanism. I don't know if I died in that world and was reborn here, or if it's dimensional travel, or if I'm delusional and constructing elaborate explanations for lucky guesses. But I have memories of another life, another world, where these events were stories. And those memories let me prepare."
"That's why you couldn't explain your foreknowledge without sounding insane," Marcus said. "Because 'I watched this in a movie' is not a credible source."
"Exactly. I tried to tell you as much truth as I could without revealing information that would destroy my credibility."
Sarah leaned back, her scientific mind working through implications. "If you're from another world where this was fiction, you know what comes next. More threats, more catastrophes, more events we should prepare for."
"Yes. Though my knowledge is incomplete and becoming less reliable as events diverge from what I remember. But I know enough to understand: the Chitauri invasion was just the beginning. There are more threats coming. Bigger threats."
"Like what?" James asked, his pragmatism demanding specifics.
David took a breath and began explaining: Ultron, Sokovia, the Accords, Thanos, the Snap. He laid out the timeline of catastrophes approaching, the escalating stakes, the reality that they'd survived the first crisis but many more were coming.
His team listened with expressions ranging from shock to grim acceptance. When he finished, the silence was heavy.
Finally, Tyler spoke. "So we keep building. We prepare for what's coming, same as we did for this. We use your knowledge to stay ahead of the curve and create infrastructure that helps people survive."
"That's what I'm proposing. But it means committing to this work long-term, understanding that we're preparing for threats most people won't believe until they arrive. It means accepting that I have information I can't fully verify or explain. It means trusting me even when I sound insane."
"We've been doing that for three years," Marcus pointed out. "Why would we stop now? You were right about the invasion. That earns you credibility for future predictions."
"I'm in," Sofia said immediately. "If there's one thing the past week proved, it's that the impossible is real and preparation matters. I want to keep building systems that help people survive impossible situations."
One by one, the team committed. James with financial pragmatism about securing resources for long-term operations. Patricia with operational focus on scaling infrastructure. Sarah with scientific curiosity about understanding threats. Isabella and Elena with community dedication to protecting vulnerable populations. Tyler with construction expertise and personal loyalty.
"Thank you," David said quietly. "I know what I'm asking is enormous. But together, we can build something that matters. Something that helps ordinary people survive in a world that's more dangerous than anyone imagined."