The problem didn't announce itself with alarms.
It slipped in quietly.
Three requests hit Peter's queue within the same thirty seconds, each tagged URGENT, each pulsing red at a different frequency
Sanctum medical teams in Kathmandu requested priority shipment of super solider strength antibiotics. Their caseload had doubled overnight. Without supplies, sorcerer-healers would be forced to triage magically, a process that drained both body and mind.
At the same time, refugee housing at the Compound flagged a critical food shortage. Asgardian civilians, many already weakened by injury and displacement, required high-calorie rations within the next four hours.
Then transport control chimed in.
One corridor. One window. One shipment.
Not both.
Peter stared at the screen.
His mouth went dry.
He scrolled back and forth, fingers hovering uselessly over the interface as if the answer might appear if he stared long enough.
"Friday," he said slowly, "tell me there's a workaround."
"There is not," Friday replied gently. "Transport capacity is fixed. Choosing one will delay the other by approximately six hours."
Six hours again.
Peter swallowed hard.
He could picture it too clearly. Hungry children. Exhausted healers. People waiting, trusting that someone smarter, older, better was making the right call.
Only this time, that someone was him.
The room felt smaller.
"Okay," Peter whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "Think."
He ran the numbers again. Injury projections. Mortality curves. Magical fatigue rates. Logistics efficiency.
The sanctum patients were critical but stable under magical care. The refugees at the Compound were not injured in the same way, but malnutrition stacked fast on trauma.
There was no good answer.
Only a least bad one.
Peter's hands shook as he tapped the authorization field.
"Route food shipments to the Compound first," he said, voice steady only because he forced it to be. "Divert sanctum medical aid with increased sorcerer support until resupply."
There was a pause.
Then Friday spoke.
"Confirmed. Executing."
The flags shifted. New consequences bloomed across the display like bruises.
Peter's hands dropped to the console.
They were trembling.
He stared at them like they belonged to someone else.
"Is this…" His voice cracked despite his effort. "Is this normal?"
Friday did not soften the truth.
"Yes," she said. "Sir experiences this daily."
That was the moment it hit him.
This wasn't training wheels.
This was the job.
Peter leaned back, breath shallow, chest tight.
"I don't think I can…"
He wasn't playing boss.
He was being trained to carry responsibility without a safety net.
A new voice cut into his comms.
Calm. Familiar. Steady.
"Peter."
Vision's voice came through the channel, threaded with faint static and distant alarms.
"I am monitoring rescue operations in Sector Three," Vision said. "I saw the conflict."
Peter exhaled, relief crashing through him so hard his knees nearly buckled.
"I froze," Peter admitted quietly. "I almost didn't choose."
"Yes," Vision said without judgment. "You paused because you understood the cost."
Peter clenched his jaw. "It still feels wrong."
"It often does," Vision replied. "Tony refers to this as the illusion of a correct decision. Most outcomes are measured by how much harm they prevent, not how good they feel."
Peter rubbed his eyes. "That's… depressing."
"It is honest," Vision said. "And honesty keeps people alive."
Peter swallowed. "I don't know how he does this every day."
"He does not do it alone," Vision said gently. "Mini Boss Protocol exists so you may learn. Boss Baby Protocol exists so you do not fall."
Peter blinked. "You're… really calling it that."
"Yes," Vision said. "Sir named it. I did not object."
Peter snorted despite himself, then sobered. "So if I mess this up"
"I will intervene," Vision said immediately. "Not to override you. To support you."
Something warm settled in Peter's chest.
Backup.
Brotherhood.
Peter nodded slowly, fingers returning to the console.
"Okay," he said. "Then… stay on the line?"
"I am here," Vision replied without hesitation.
Peter squared his shoulders and turned back to the flood of data.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's keep going."
Across the Compound, Vision continued coordinating rescue efforts, one eye always on Peter's feed.
Two brothers, separated by distance.
Sharing the weight anyway.