Avengers Headquarters.
A low hum built in the cavernous hangar, followed by a shimmering distortion of air above the quantum platform. Sparks of pale blue and gold danced across the arcs of the time machine's frame, its bulky, almost industrial design clashing with the other sleek Stark tech around it. It didn't look particularly futuristic—more like an over-engineered science fair project powered by raw genius.
The energy swelled, making the air heavy in everyone's lungs.
Then, in a blink of light and heat, several figures appeared on the once-empty platform—Captain America, Tony Stark, Thor, and the rest of the surviving Avengers who had made the perilous time jumps to escape the shadow of Thanos' snap.
They stood in silence for a beat, blinking at the bright overhead lights, the faint scent of ozone and scorched metal clinging to them like smoke. Dust motes drifted lazily in the still air.
One by one, they looked each other over—checking for injuries, confirming who had made it back.
Some clutched their prizes, the Infinity Stones glinting faintly in their containment casings. Others returned empty-handed, their expressions a careful mask over exhaustion and unspoken worry.
"Everyone, I did it! I got the Stone! I can't believe this actually worked!"
War Machine—Rhodes—lifted the Orb containing the Power Stone high like a trophy, his voice carrying unrestrained triumph.
"Yeah, looks like it," Bruce Banner said, a rare note of shared excitement in his deep voice.
Scott Lang's eyes, however, were already narrowing. He zeroed in on Captain America and Tony Stark with open suspicion.
Originally, the three had gone together to the Battle of New York to retrieve the Tesseract and Loki's scepter. But the mission had gone sideways—the Tesseract lost right under their noses.
With no time to waste, Cap and Tony had ignored Scott's protests, deciding to gamble on a second jump—further back in history to secure the Tesseract. Risky didn't begin to cover it. Scott had been certain they wouldn't make it back.
And yet… here they were.
But the space in their hands where the Tesseract should have been was conspicuously empty.
Scott's confusion deepened into unease.
If they failed, how had they gotten more Pym Particles to return?
If they succeeded… where was the damn Tesseract?
Following Scott's gaze, the others gradually turned toward Steve and Tony, the atmosphere in the room tightening like a drawn bowstring.
Before the question could be answered, Clint Barton suddenly dropped to his knees. His bow clattered to the floor, and his face twisted into something raw and broken.
The realization hit like a gut punch—someone was missing.
Natasha Romanoff hadn't returned.
"Clint… where's Nat?"
Bruce Banner's voice cracked as he asked, though his chest already knew the answer.
The room froze. The Tesseract was forgotten. Every heartbeat seemed to echo in the silence.
Clint's lips trembled, his eyes glossing with tears that streaked down his dirt-smeared face.
He didn't need to say it.
Black Widow was gone.
The truth crashed over them like ice water.
Bruce staggered back a step before collapsing heavily to the floor, his massive frame seeming suddenly small. The grief was palpable—thick in the air, pressing against their lungs. Natasha had been more than a teammate to him.
"Nat's not coming back… and that's something we're all going to have to live with. But right now, we can't afford to grieve. We still have work to do."
After long seconds of suffocating quiet, Captain America's voice cut through it—steady but ragged. He swiped at the moisture in his eyes and forced his focus forward.
The words tugged the rest of them back to the mission, though the grief clung stubbornly to every movement.
"Cap, what are you talking about? I see you and Tony came back empty-handed. So… where's the Tesseract? Please don't tell me you failed."
Thor's voice was thick, his tone carrying both the sharp edge of loss and the desperate hunger for hope.
Of them all, Thor's scars from the Snap ran deepest. Ale, rage, and self-recrimination had been his only companions these past years. The Infinity Stones were the last glimmer of redemption he could see.
"It's… complicated. We don't have the Tesseract yet. But we will soon."
Tony's words were quick, measured, but they only tightened the coil of tension in the room.
"Stark, you're just making this more confusing. What do you mean 'soon'? Are you planning another time jump? We don't have enough Pym Particles!"
Scott Lang's gaze darted between them, his unease boiling toward frustration.
"Scott, relax. I can tell you right now—the Tesseract isn't a problem. We've got it handled."
"Yeah, just wait. Someone's going to deliver it to us."
The exchange didn't soothe anyone—it only sharpened the questions.
"Alright, here's what happened."
Under the collective weight of expectant stares, Captain America began to explain.
He told them about the first failed jump, the desperate gamble into an earlier timeline, the unexpected confrontation with Alex, and the uneasy bargain they'd struck.
When he finished, the reaction was instantaneous.
"Alex is coming here? Cap, are you serious? Alex?!"
"No way. Alex? Jesus, Cap, what did you two get into?"
"No wonder you both look like you got your asses kicked."
"Why are you all looking at me? Yeah, I got punched by Alex, but who here hasn't?"
Murmurs, disbelief, and uneasy laughter tangled together, the tension not loosening in the slightest.
"Everyone! Everyone!"
Tony clapped his hands, the sharp sound pulling them back to focus.
"This isn't about who got their ass handed to them by Alex. The question is—do we really want him coming here?"
"Do we have a choice?" Rocket's dry tone cut in from the side.
It was the unvarnished truth.
The Tesseract was in Alex's possession. If they didn't let him come, they wouldn't get it. There was no alternative plan.
Reluctant nods passed around the room.
With that unspoken agreement, Tony moved to the console, his fingers dancing over the controls with brisk efficiency.
The machine roared to life again, arcs of energy curling around its frame.
The flash came—brighter than before.
A young, unassuming-looking Asian man stepped onto the platform, his arrival almost anticlimactic compared to the storm of reactions his name had caused.
In his hand was a sleek case—undoubtedly containing the Tesseract.