It had taken nearly seven years and over two billion Euros, but the bridge was finally finished. Not only did this massively monolithic monument to human ingenuity represent the recent peace between two rival nations, but it also represented a change in trade relations. An end to supply chain bottlenecks. No longer would people have to stand in line for days just to acquire simple basic needs like bread or toilet paper. No more would the working class have to struggle just for basic survival. And no longer would the price of electronics around the world be more than three month's rent.
This event marked the opening of the bridge to normal use by cargo trains as well as civilian traffic of all kinds. The lower levels accommodated two rail lines while the upper levels included a four lane highway, two bicycle lanes, and a pedestrian path that had several scenic overlooks. There was even a place in the middle for food carts and souvenir kiosks.
Henry Pym and Howard Stark had even managed to put aside their personal feelings for each other so they could complete this project in record time. What should have taken decades, was accomplished much faster with two technological super-geniuses collaborating. And in honor of their work on this project, they were asked to attend the ribbon cutting as the Masters of Ceremony. Also in attendance were key members of S.H.I.E.L.D. (who had helped to supply certain rare materials, such as adamantium), various political figures, and more than a few celebrities.
The Prime Minister and President of the two nations shook hands, accepted the giant scissors from Agent Margaret Carter, and as one, handed them to Pym and Stark. The two scientists each took one of the handle loops, opened the blades, and cut the bright red ribbon that crossed the whole width of the bridge. Fireworks exploded in the sky, cheers sounded from the attending crowd, and a band began playing music.
Meanwhile, at both ends of this engineering marvel, trucks, trains, and passenger vehicles of all shapes and sizes began to cross the bridge. Speed limits were lowered for the event, and only one lane was open in each direction to provide a safe place for people to gather. Helicopters from the major news agencies hovered, collecting what would surely be important historical film footage, but more importantly, generate great ratings.
Peggy was on her third martini in half as many hours since the party began and was no longer feeling the tension of earlier when Howard approached her with a young man following in his wake. She noted that the younger man was not Howard's son, Tony, who apparently was still on his honeymoon. Nearly three months later. She thought it must be nice to be that rich.
“Margret, my dear, I've been looking for you,” beamed the older man, ushering the younger man in front of him. “I want you to meet a good friend of mine. This is Steve Rogers, my protege. Steve, this is Margret Carter, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and liaison to Stark Industries.”
The young man looked embarrassed and maybe even a little scared. “Nice to meet you, Miss Carter.”
“Please, call me Peggy.” She smiled and extended her hand to the skittish man. He was tall and well built with beautiful green eyes and hair the color of honey. He had an olive skin tone that spoke of a Mediterranean heritage. He was the ideal of “tall, dark, and handsome” personified. And with three martinis coursing through her veins, she had a strong urge to climb him like a tree.
“Oh, there's the ambassador from Rhodesia. I'm afraid I'll have to leave you two alone for a while. Do give my regards to Director Fury.” Howard turned to Steve, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And I'll see you back in New York on Monday, if I don't run into you before then.” He smiled at the younger couple and walked off.
Suddenly, Peggy felt wobbly on her feet. Instinctively, she reached out to steady herself on the nearest stable thing. Which just happened to be Steve's hard, muscular chest. A wave of heat rushed through her body as she was hit with feelings of lust, and almost immediately after, embarrassment.
She looked up into his eyes, about to apologize. Then she felt another wave of unsteadiness. There was a clear look of concern on Steve's face. It was then she realized the wobbly feeling wasn't caused by alcohol.
Steve helped her to her feet, making sure she was able to stand on her own. “Is this area on a fault line?” he asked.
She thought for a second. “I don't think so. But it is a mountain range, so there might be...” and then it hit her. The area was formed by shifting tectonic plates. And while they might not have been considered active, it was still an area where earthquakes occurred once every decade or two. She wondered if that had been calculated in the bridge's design, but the look on her companion's face told her it hadn't.
Steve's eyes widened in fear and he grabbed her by the shoulders. “Get off the bridge! Fast!” he practically screamed. He then ran off to find Howard, Henry or anyone who could help. By the time he had made it twenty feet, the danger had become obvious to all present.
=================
“MASSIVE QUAKE HITS BORDER BRIDGE - Death Toll Passes 10,000” read the headline on the morning paper. But Tony was too busy reading the comics page. He liked to read the funny papers first, then the stock market listings, followed by the obituaries. He saved the sports pages for after dinner, and waited until he was in his office to read the front page articles.
But this time, he didn't need to read them: he was living them. The papers didn't list the names of the dead. They didn't go into great detail of how hard the loss of so many political figures had hit the world. None of the papers could express the sense of loss the world felt when they heard of the death of Howard Stark and Henry Pym. And only one reporter had even mentioned the recently orphaned Hope van Dyne and Tony Stark.
Sighing, Anthony Stark put the paper down, finished his tea, and pushed his chair away from the table. He put his suit jacket on, straitened his tie, and wheeled himself out the door, down the ramp, and into his van. He could have used the company limo and his electric wheelchair, but this was his father's funeral he was going to, and he intended to do everything on his own.
As he snapped the driving harness into place and adjusted the hand controls, Hope climbed into the passenger seat beside him. Leaning over to give him a kiss, she asked “are you going to be OK today, honey?”
He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. Smiling sadly, he nodded. Then he let go of her hand, took the wheel in both of his, and the newly-orphaned newlyweds drove away to say a final farewell to their parents.