It’s a start
The aftermath of the Battle of New York has left Manhattan scarred. Smoke rises from damaged buildings as helicopters fly overhead. Construction crews and emergency workers swarm the streets.
Inside a temporary cleanup office, Adrian Toomes, Phineas Mason, Roderick Kingsley, and Justin Bolton stand around a child's drawing of the Avengers.
The drawing is crude and colorful. Iron Man flies above the city, Captain America stands beside Thor, and the Hulk is depicted smashing through a building.
Toomes: Things are never gonna be the same now. I mean, look at this. You got aliens. You got big green guys tearing down buildings. When I was a kid, I used to draw cowboys and Indians.
Mason: Actually, it's Native American, but whatever.
Toomes: Yeah. Tell you what, though. It ain't bad, is it?
Toomes squints at the drawing and Mason nods.
Mason: No. Yeah. Kid's got a future.
Kingsley: Assuming the kid survives long enough to have one.
Everyone looks at Kingsley.
Toomes: What?
Kingsley: Nothing. Just saying.
Kingsley looks out the window toward the damaged Avengers Tower.
Kingsley: People are going to remember today for a long time.
A clean-up crew works around a giant deceased Chitauri alien creature with pointed teeth. Alien artifacts lie among the rubble. Walking through the site, Toomes gives a worker a thumbs up. He turns to Herman Schultz, who is one of his workers.
Toomes: No, hey! Uh-uh! You can't saw through that stuff. These alien bastards are tough. You gotta use the stuff they use.
He picks up an alien object from the ground and uses it as a tool to break down the Chitauri chariot.
Toomes: See?
Schultz: All right.
Justin Bolton watches from nearby. Unlike the others, he isn't particularly interested in the cleanup.
He's staring at a pile of alien technology.
Bolton: You guys seeing this?
Mason: Seeing what?
Bolton: This stuff.
Justin pulls a strange metallic device from the rubble. It resembles a heavy mechanical glove, covered in unfamiliar circuitry.
He turns it over in his hands.
Bolton: What the hell is this?
Mason: Don't touch it.
Bolton: Why?
Mason: Because it's alien technology.
Bolton: That's not exactly an answer.
Justin presses a small glowing section of the device.
ZZZT!
The glove suddenly sparks.
Bolton: Whoa!
He drops it.
Mason: I told you not to touch it!
Kingsley walks over and carefully examines the damaged device.
Kingsley: How much of this stuff have we found?
Toomes: Enough to make a very long night.
Kingsley: And who owns it?
Toomes looked at him and said nothing, before looking back at Mason
Toomes: What the hell is that?
Mason: Don't know.
Mason presses a small raised section on the side.
Mason: Let's find out.
The device suddenly sparks. Mason drops it.
Mason: Whoa!
Everyone nearby looks over.
Toomes: You okay?
Mason: Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.
Mason picks it up again and examines the damaged section.
Mason: Whatever this is, it's broken.
Toomes: Can you fix it?
Mason: Maybe. Give me a little time.
Anne Marie Hoag, the director of the Department of Damage Control, walks into the salvage site with her crew.
Anne Marie Hoag: Attention, please! In accordance with Executive Order 396B, all post-battle cleanup operations are now under our jurisdiction. Thank you for your service. We'll take it from here.
Toomes: Who the hell are you?
DODC Agent: Qualified personnel.
Toomes: Look, I have a city contract to salvage all this, okay, with the city, so-
Anne Marie Hoag: I apologize, Mr. Toomes, but all salvage operations are now under our jurisdiction. Please turn over any and all exotic materials that you've collected, or you will be prosecuted.
The workers look puzzled. Kingsley slips an alien artifact that looks like a power source into his pocket unnoticed.
Toomes: Ma'am, what am I- Please. Come here. Hey, lady, come on. Look... I bought trucks for this job. I brought in a whole new crew. These guys have a family. I have a family. I'm all in on this. I could lose my house.
Anne Marie Hoag: I'm sorry, sir. There's nothing I can do.
Toomes is left to stare at her back as she leaves. Behind him, a Damage Control Agent speaks up.
DODC Agent: Maybe next time, don't over extend yourself.
Toomes looks around and grins.
Toomes: What'd you say?
He looks around at his crew of workers. Justin whistles.
Toomes: Yeah, he's right. I overextended myself.
Suddenly, he punches the agent. The agents point their guns at him.
Worker: Don't do it.
Anne Marie Hoag: Put them down.
The agents lower their guns.
Anne Marie Hoag: If you have a grievance, you may take it up with my superiors.
Toomes: Your superiors. Who the hell are they?
We see a TV screen playing the news about Tony Stark and his contract with Damage Control. Toomes watches the TV with an angry look on his face.
News Anchor: A joint venture between Stark Industries and the federal government, the Department of Damage Control will oversee the collection and storage of alien and other exotic materials.
Schultz: So now the assholes who made this mess are being paid to clean it up.
Mason: Yeah, it’s all rigged.
Mason is tinkering with the alien power source that one of the workers stole from the salvage site earlier that day.
News Anchor: Experts estimate there are over fifteen hundred tons of exotic material scattered throughout the tri-state area.
The glowing alien artifact is now connected to a motor with wires. The blades on the motor start to spin and the machine floats off the table. One of the workers pulls off a tarpaulin sheet covering a large piece of Chitauri artifact, revealing a dozen of glowing Chitauri energy cores.
Bolton: Hey, chief! We still have another load from yesterday. We’re supposed to turn this in, right?
Mason: It’s too bad. We could have made some pretty cool stuff from all that alien junk.
Toomes stares at the truck full of alien items and makes up his mind.
Toomes: I tell you what, let’s keep it. The world’s changing.
Mason lifts his magnifying goggles and looks at his boss.
Toomes: It’s time we change, too.
Eight years later
The Rolling Stones’ “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” is playing in the warehouse. Workers are moving piles of alien tech and tinkering with machines. Mason works on an elaborate rifle gun. Another worker fires a neon blast from an exotic gun. The blast shears a large item in half.
Workers load piles of high tech weapons onto a van.
Cash pours through a money counting machine.
A figure wearing a flying suit with expensive metal wings soars toward the warehouse. Doors in the ceiling open and the figure drops crates of alien tech from the suits’ claw-like feet. The helmeted figure comes through the roof and lands on the platform. He steps out of the wing suit and faces Mason.
Toomes: There you go, Mason.
The helmet opens, revealing Toomes. Mason grins.
Toomes: Business is good.
Mason: Better than good.
Toomes looks around at the warehouse.
Toomes: How much?
Mason: Enough to make Stark Industries nervous.
Toomes: That's what I like to hear.
Mason reaches beneath his workbench.
Mason: Speaking of things that make people nervous...
He pulls out an old metallic gauntlet.
It's the same device recovered eight years earlier.
Except now it's been heavily modified.
New circuitry has been built into it. Alien components have been attached to the exterior, along with wires and glowing energy conduits.
Toomes' expression changes.
Toomes: You finally figured it out?
Mason: I'm pretty sure.
Toomes: "Pretty sure"?
Mason: Well, I wasn't exactly given an instruction manual.
Mason places the gauntlet on his arm.
Mason: Remember when we first found this? We thought it was some kind of weapon.
Toomes: It isn't?
Mason: Not exactly.
Mason activates it.
ZZZZT!
The gauntlet begins glowing. For a moment, nothing happens.
Toomes: Mason...
Mason: Wait.
Suddenly— POP!
A small, unstable portal flickers into existence several feet away.
Everyone in the warehouse stops what they're doing.
Mason: It can open portals.
The portal glitches violently before disappearing.
Toomes: That's it?
Mason: It's a prototype.
Toomes: Prototype of what?
Mason looks at him.
Mason: Crossing universes.
Toomes' expression changes.
Mason: I spent years trying to understand the readings. This thing wasn't designed to move someone across a room.
Mason activates it again. A shimmering portal appears.
Mason: It's supposed to take you somewhere else entirely.
Toomes: Somewhere else?
Mason: Another universe.
The portal suddenly flickers and collapses.
Mason: I call it...
He pauses.
MASON: "The Other Side."
Toomes walks closer.
Toomes: And you actually know where it goes?
Mason: Not exactly.
Toomes: And you know where it goes how?
Mason: Because I found something else.
He pulls out a small, strange metallic fragment. It doesn't look like any Chitauri technology they've encountered.
Toomes: What's that?
Mason: I pulled it out of the portal during one of the tests.
Toomes: Out of the portal?
Mason: Yeah.
He places the fragment on the table.
Mason: It wasn't there when I opened it. It came through from the other side.
Toomes examines it.
Toomes: What does it do?
Mason: I don't know.
Toomes: Then how do you know it's from another universe?
Mason: Because I've analyzed every piece of alien technology we've stolen over the last eight years.
He points at the fragment.
Mason: This isn't Chitauri. It isn't from Earth. And it doesn't match anything in any database I could access.
Toomes slowly looks toward the gauntlet.
Toomes smiles.
Toomes: You think there's more over there.
Mason: If I'm right...
Mason looks at the portal readings.
Mason: There could be an entire world.
