Bruce leaned forward, resting his palms on the table in front of him with a heavy sigh. He had left the control room meeting so he could check on the scans FRIDAY was running on the technology confiscated from Nathaniel when he'd been brought in. For a good fifteen minutes or so, Bruce had been staring at the screen, still trying to fully process and comprehend things.

FRIDAY had thoroughly examined Nathaniel's devices. In fact, the AI had run several tests multiple times so that she could be positive. And she always came back with the same answer.

"All forms of technology that Mr. Richards was using were all created by Tony Stark – including the AI, JOCASTA," FRIDAY had reported.

"Okay," Bruce said slowly. "But just, like, a version of Tony, right?"

"It is likely that individuals might differ greatly from one reality to the next," FRIDAY concurred. "However, those differences are in reference to variants that influence personality, or choices that impact the course of one's life."

"Meaning. . . what, exactly?"

"Meaning, Dr. Banner," FRIDAY continued as Bruce straightened up and began to pace. "Identities across the Multiverse can still be cross-referenced to specific patterns, leaving an individual with one or more key characteristics at the core which are likely to persist across all realities."

Bruce paused in the middle of the room, absently rubbing the shoulder of his bad arm. He considered FRIDAY's words, halfway waiting for her to continue speaking. When she didn't, he furrowed his brows and exhaled sharply. "Okay. So. You're saying that you can confirm, with absolute certainty, that this tech was designed by Tony Stark?"

"Indeed," FRIDAY responded. "Boss had a signature that was evident in everything he did. It is present in this 'other' version's work, as well." Then, with something that almost sounded wistful, she added, "I believe it is what Ms. Potts-Stark would call 'flair.'"

A small smile tugged at the corners of Bruce's mouth at that. Finally, he picked up the ear-piece that Nathaniel Richards had been wearing, twirling the small device in his hands, considering what he ought to do next. He wasn't exactly a 'tech guy' to begin with, so dealing with all of this was kind of foreign to him.

"Well?"

"What the—shit!" Bruce let out an undignified yelp, practically jumping several feet in the air and almost dropping the ear-piece, when he heard the unexpected voice break the silence of his lab. Spinning around, Bruce clutched his chest and took a few deep breaths before levying a glare at Nebula where she stood by the door. "You can't sneak up on people like that!"

Nebula frowned. "Of course I can. I just did." She rolled her eyes before stalking (and, really, that was the only word for it) over. She stopped next to Bruce, staring over at him expectantly.

"What?" Bruce asked defensively, fighting the urge to shrink back under Nebula's black gaze.

"I assume Nebula would like to know the results of the tech analysis," FRIDAY offered.

Nebula gave a terse nod. "Did he make it?" she asked gruffly.

"Yeah," Bruce answered. "FRIDAY confirmed it. She quadruple-checked it."

With a muttered curse, Nebula glared down at the floor. Bruce watched her fists clench and unclench at her sides. A storm was brewing within her. She was angry, but there was something else there, too. . .

Hurt.

"Are you, uh—you good?" Bruce asked tentatively, keeping his voice calm and level.

Nebula's gaze snapped back to Bruce, who couldn't help but flinch a little. "I'm fine," the Luphomoid lied. Shaking her head, she let out a frustrated growl.

Bruce knew that Nebula had cared about Tony, been close to him. It seemed as though he'd managed to get closer to her than anyone else ever had – save, of course (perhaps) her sister. Something tightened within Bruce's chest as he realized that in the whole Multiverse, Nebula had had two people. And she'd lost both of them, far too soon. It was profoundly sad, and also happened to hit a little too close to home.

"What are you staring at?" Nebula asked suddenly, ripping Bruce from his musings. He gulped softly as he quickly averted his gaze, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.

"Nothing," Bruce mumbled. Then, rethinking it, he sighed and looked back up to Nebula. "I'm just, sorry that you lost him. That's all." He examined the woman's face – the tightness of her jaw as she grit her teeth, the slight furrow to her brow as she narrowed those eyes that looked like an endless night sky.

"It wasn't just me," Nebula finally responded. Looking down, she added, "Everyone lost him."

The tension in her face and voice were evident. Yet, she was standing still and maintaining rationale. The storm that Bruce had seen only moments ago had subsided, the boil receding down to just a simmer. Bruce found himself feeling. . . envious. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked awkwardly on his heels, avoiding eye contact with the woman.

If he was being honest with himself, Bruce had always found Nebula intriguing. She was obviously lethal, carrying herself with a predatory confidence that bordered on feral. But over the last few years, she had changed a lot. She'd learned to curb her anger and rage, to save that killer instinct for battles with villains or to channel it into more positive outlets. No longer did anyone have to walk on egg-shells for fear of offending or setting off the Luphomoid. In fact, she had even been known to make a joke now and then (even if it was often a sarcastic barb).

Bruce wished he could be like that. The rage and hurt and anger were all there. He only ever really pacified them and the Beast within, never truly beating any of it. If he could, if he thought it would do any good, he would dig at his own skin until he found that anger that was most assuredly there, just beneath the surface, always – lingering like a virus – and he would claw it out until not a single remnant was left.

Although, Bruce also knew now that Hulk was not just some thing that he couldn't control. Hulk was a full-fledged being in his own right. And he wanted out, to live a life of his own, free to do what he wanted – which was to rage against all the injustices and to right wrongs, with as much force as may be necessary. Most of all, he wanted to smash. But Bruce couldn't let him out, couldn't succumb to those base desires. Because if he did? He didn't know if he would ever resurface. That left him feeling even angrier, at himself for being so out of control. It also made him feel guilt and shame knowing that he was keeping Hulk locked away, all because Bruce couldn't control himself, wasn't strong enough, wasn't good enough. . .

A low, guttural sound—almost like a growl—drew Bruce from the thoughts he had all but gotten lost in. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on the present moment. He reared back slightly as he realized that Nebula was weirdly close to him. She was giving him a scrutinizing look – it was an odd expression, some combination of annoyance and concern.

This close, and with the fluorescent lights of the lab shining down, Bruce couldn't help but notice the faint sheen that covered the Luphomoid's skin. The blue and purple tones marbled together, swirling and shining, like a galactic supernova – which, Bruce remembered, is called a nebula.

An amused snort escaped him, causing Nebula to narrow her eyes suspiciously. Bruce tried (too late) to cover it up with a cough, putting his hand up to his mouth and exaggeratedly clearing his throat. Nebula rocked back on her heels, still eyeing Bruce and looking like she wanted to comment. But the man didn't give her a chance.

He gestured toward the devices in front of them and asked, "So, what should we do with these?"

Nebula turned her attention to the tech. And Bruce barely suppressed the relieved sigh that came from no longer being the object of the woman's attention.

"I'd like to take a look at these myself," Nebula finally decided.

"Be my guest," FRIDAY offered. Several computer screens flickered to life, with data files and lines of code appearing on them.

Nebula nodded toward the chair Bruce had vacated and then gave him an expectant look.

"Oh!" Bruce grabbed the arm of the chair and scooted it over to Nebula. "Go right ahead."

With but a nod, Nebula sat down in the chair and leaned forward to examine the information in front of her.

Bruce shuffled awkwardly on his feet. After a moment, he heard Nebula click her tongue, drawing the man's focus back to her. She jerked her head toward another chair. Bruce frowned, confused at first, but then he slowly made his way over to the chair and rolled it over next to Nebula.

"Sit," Nebula instructed, still reading through the information on the screen. Bruce obeyed the command, dropping into the seat, and watched the woman in silence for a moment. He was about to say something when she started speaking again. "See this data here?" Nebula pointed to a spot on the screen.

Bruce leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. "Yeah," he answered, once he'd found the spot Nebula had pointed out.

"That references how the system is formatted, for the foundation of the suit the kid was wearing. . ."

From there, Nebula proceeded to explain everything as she went through it. Bruce listened intently and nodded along. He didn't know what he'd done to earn this attention from Nebula, for her to include him like this, but he sure wasn't going to waste it.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

It was a terrible idea.

But it was also the only one they had.

Because nobody could deny that they needed information. And since Nathaniel had been the one to drop this steaming pile of shit on their doorstep, talking to him seemed like the best way to find out why.

Despite the vast number of Avengers in the Compound at the time, many of them had found themselves busy with other things. Bruce was checking on the results of analyzing Nathaniel's tech; the Guardians were checking on Quill after his close-call; T'Challa and Okoye were giving Shuri a stern talking-to, as Pepper was doing with Morgan; Scott and the Langs were still discussing Cassie's secret life of crime-fighting, and trying to come up with theories about how to help Ava; Deadpool had been dropped off in the cafeteria because apparently his stomach was a bottomless pit; Spiderman had disappeared, in an effort to maintain anonymity; and most of the others had decided to make themselves scarce. There was only a small skeleton crew in the conference room, discussing this terrible, no good, very dumb idea.

"Carol," Sam asked, turning to the Captain. "This 'tip' from your friend—"

"Not my friend," Carol interrupted, holding up a finger.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Okay, so the guy is not exactly your friend but you trust him enough to take his words at face-value?"

Carol snorted. "Of course not."

"Then what the hell are we doing?" Clint threw his arms out to the side in mild exasperation.

Swiping blonde hair out of her face, Carol sighed. "My history with Yon-Rogg is. . ." she paused, apparently searching for the word before finally continuing with, "complicated. He's not exactly the most trustworthy person, but he's all about self-preservation." She shrugged lightly. "He needs us, and he knows it. So he's buying our help – and, he thinks, maybe his freedom – with information. He wouldn't risk making that information false."

That logic actually seemed sound enough, so it was agreed that Nathaniel would be questioned. About what he was really doing here, how he got here, what this threat was, when they could expect it, and, most importantly, if the name Yon-Rogg had given Carol meant anything to him.

Wanda had volunteered (and insisted on being the one) to conduct the questioning.

"Is that smart? I mean, the kid admitted that he hates you," Rhodey was quick to point out.

But Wanda wasn't budging. "I'm doing it. Him not liking me could work in our favor."

"You think he'll be intimated enough to tell you something?" Bucky asked curiously.

"Or to let something slip, yes," the Sokovian answered. Then, as if compromising, Wanda added, "I don't have to go alone. Doctor Strange could join me."

Sam gave a crestfallen shake of his head. "No can do. Strange is busy checking on our other guest."

When Wanda frowned, Carol took it as confusion and offered an explanation: "Yon-Rogg's been complaining about his leg. I told him we'd have someone look at it and Strange is a doctor."

Vision raised a tentative hand. "I can go in with Wanda."

An amused, and not particularly kind, snort sounded from the corner of the room. Everyone turned their attention to Valkyrie, where she was slouched in a chair. Loki and Thor had been standing beside her, silently observing the proceedings. With a bored-sounding sigh and a small grunt, Val launched herself out of her seat and made her way to the middle of the room. "And what happens if this kid doesn't cooperate?" Val glanced around at the group. She held her hands up in a placating manner. "I mean, we can try your way, Witchy. But should that fail? I don't think we really have time to waste with diplomacy."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting?"

With a shrug, Val leaned back against a desk. "Simply that maybe the Witch's backup shouldn't be someone with a terribly precise moral compass."

Inhaling sharply through his nostrils, Sam closed his eyes. "Valkyrie," he all but growled. "Out with it. What do you mean?" he asked more forcefully.

There was a groan from the other side of the room, and Loki took a few steps forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She means that if he won't talk on his own accord, someone should make him talk."

Sam gaped. "What, you?"

"Loki's an extraordinarily skilled mage. He has ways of getting information." Val offered a devilish, albeit somewhat sour, smile. "Even that which one does not wish to divulge. And he may not even have to say a word."

Bucky paled. "Seriously?" He scoffed. But he remained stiff, tension rolling off of him in waves as he looked from Loki to Val and back. "You're not actually thinking about fucking with the kid's mind?"

Loki actually looked offended. "Certainly not," he assured Bucky. Then, carefully, he added, "I might, however, take a peek inside."

"You can do that?" Rhodey queried, his voice wavering between intrigued and concerned.

"I can." Loki nodded and offered a toothy grin that spoke of mischief. But then in a more serious tone, he said, "Although, I typically do not. It is, after all, highly invasive."

"It's not mind control though?" Clint asked dubiously, watching Loki through narrowed eyes.

"No, I would not be influencing or controlling him in any way, Barton," Loki insisted.

Carol chewed on her lip. "You'd just be looking at, like, his memories?"

Loki gave a quick nod in the Captain's direction. "Precisely."

The blonde seemed to consider that for a moment, rolling the idea around, before finally nodding back at the mage. Bucky let out an incredulous laugh. "You're okay with that?" he asked, focusing on Carol.

"No," the woman answered. "But I don't see any alternatives. And if there's not gonna be any mind control happening—"

"We're still talking about invading someone's mind!" Bucky raised his voice. Pointing at Carol, he continued: "You, of all people, know that even messing with memories can be dangerous."

A shadow of frustration crossed Carol's face as she narrowed her eyes at her teammate. But before she had a chance to speak, Loki had stepped forward and lightly placed a hand on Bucky's forearm. The Soldier turned to the Asgardian, still amped up but without malice (which was a good thing, at least).

"I can appreciate your concern, Sergeant. But I assure you, I would not influence or change anything in the boy's mind. I would merely be observing that which is relevant, should he fail to disclose it to us on his own accord." Loki stared intently at Bucky, something surprisingly heartfelt in his eyes and the soft tone with which he spoke.

"Buck," Sam interjected. "We really don't have other options."

It was silent in the room for a long moment. Finally, Bucky shook his head, almost in defeat. "Fine. Do what you have to do. But I'm not watching." And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

"He'll be fine," Sam told the rest of the group – although it sounded more like he was reassuring himself. With a sigh, the leader rolled his shoulders and looked at Wanda. "All right, you'll try talking to the kid, see how much you can get out of him." There was a pause before Sam continued, grinding out the words as though they left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Loki will be your backup. If anything goes wrong, or if the kid won't give you anything, then Loki can—" Sam stopped again, inhaling somewhat shakily. To Loki, he said, "You can look in his mind if it becomes necessary."

"Only if it's necessary, though," Carol added sternly.

Loki nodded in acknowledgement. Everyone mumbled some form of agreement before dispersing, making the way from the small conference room down to the holding cell where Nathaniel was, unwittingly, waiting.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

As they made their way to the cells, Thor sidled up next to Loki. "Brother," the Thunderer began hesitantly, his brows stitched together in worry. "Are you sure you—"

Loki cut his brother off with a wave of his hand. "I shall be fine," Loki stated. "Perhaps your little Witch will be successful at getting the boy to talk."

"But if not?" Thor asked, apparently not readily giving up on having the conversation.

"Then I'll get the information you need," Loki told him with a noncommittal shrug.

"And you'll be okay?" Thor had a look of genuine concern his eyes.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, Loki glanced at Thor out of the corner of his eye. "Yes, Thor. I'll be fine," he repeated, more forcefully.

Thor didn't look terribly convinced, but he also didn't argue the point further. They continued walking in silence, stopping when they finally reached the cell.

"We'll be in here." Sam pointed to a door nearby, which was clearly the one that looked in on the boy's cell.

"We'll see and hear everything," Clint added, looking pointedly at Loki before he walked into the observation room with Sam and Rhodey.

"We've got this," Wanda said with a smile. Vision kissed the back of her hand before heading into the adjoining room where he'd also be watching.

Thor squeezed Loki's neck and patted Wanda's arm. Val stepped up and grabbed Loki's forearm with one hand and placed the other around his neck, like she'd done when she'd first greeted him in the lobby the day before. Loki returned the gesture and leaned their foreheads together.

"Whoever thought that something you did to me out of cruelty would later come to be helpful," Val mused under her breath, so only Loki could hear.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Loki replied softly before releasing her. Valkyrie winked at Wanda, then ushered Thor into the other room.

Only Carol remained. "Remember, the name to ask him about is Rama-Tut," she reminded them.

"Got it." Wanda gave a thumbs up. Once Carol was in the other room, Wanda looked at Loki. "Ready?"

"After you, Little Witch," he told her, waving his hand in front of him.

Wanda exhaled sharply. Then, she opened the door and stepped into the cell.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Nathaniel had been laying on his side on the bed, staring at the wall. Luis and Kurt had, apparently, been relegated to watching him on a more full-time schedule. Which wasn't terrible, because Luis – as in almost every other reality – was extremely friendly and talkative. He rambled on about anything and everything. He even managed to get Nate talking some, but that was only because it was trivial information about the differences from one universe to the next. Eventually, he'd said he was tired and laid down, as if to sleep. He curled up so he wasn't facing the one-way mirror and instead just looked at the wall.

That left him with just his thoughts, which was miserable. He found himself missing JOCASTA – certainly, she'd be chattering in his ear, giving the kind of pep-talk that only she was capable of giving, in which she insulted him by telling him what an idiot he was being and then proceeding to tell him how a smart person would manage to get out of such a shitty situation.

Nate smiled to himself, hoping he'd be successful this time. And that he'd get to hear JO's voice again soon.

The sound of the door opening pulled Nathaniel from his thoughts. He jolted upright on the bed, sitting with his back against the wall and looking at his visitors.

His stomach clenched as he saw Maximoff step in. Behind her was, wonder of wonders, Loki Laufeyson. The door shut behind them with a flurry of green (Loki's doing, of course).

"Hello, Nathaniel," Maximoff greeted, her voice pleasant enough and a smile on her face. But all Nate could do was give a half-hearted nod in return. Looking uncomfortable, the Sokovian gestured to the mage beside her. "This is—"

"Loki, son of Laufey. The rightful king of Jötunheim," Nathaniel drawled. "I'm aware." He grinned cheekily. Maximoff cleared her throat, clearly feeling awkward. Loki merely stared at Nate, with that mask of neutrality that he was so skilled at wearing. Nathaniel could almost see the gears turning as the mage tried to work out his next steps, always plotting ten steps ahead.

"Curious," Loki muttered, cocking his head to the side as he looked at Nathaniel. A few more seconds ticked by before Loki let out a sharp laugh. Maximoff looked at him questioningly. Loki simply clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing around the room. "I must admit, I'm not used to this."

"Used to what?" Maximoff asked, haltingly, watching her companion.

Loki tossed a glance over his shoulder to the woman, grinning in an almost predatory way. "Being considered the least evil person in the room."

Spinning on his heel, Loki crossed over to the surveillance glass and leaned back against it, folding his arms over his chest. He jerked his head toward the mirror. "They're all very concerned about you and your motives here," he told Nate. Then, sounding far too amused he said, "But you are concerned about her." He nodded toward the Scarlet Witch.

Waving his arms out, clearly referencing himself, Loki said, "And then there's just little old me. Who has somehow become the most trustworthy person here."

There was a click of the intercom, followed by Clint's voice, all but growling, "Keep talking, Loki. Let's see how quickly that status changes for you."

Loki turned to face the mirror, holding his hands up. Then, turning to Nate, he whispered, "So touchy," and tossed in a wink for good measure.

Maximoff rolled her eyes and stepped forward. Nate's hands clenched and unclenched, uselessly reaching for armor and gauntlets that weren't there.

"We have some questions for you."

"I told you," Nathaniel started, trying to sound firm. "I'll gladly tell you everything I know, but only if I can talk to everyone."

Maximoff leveled an inquisitive gaze at him. "Why is that so important to you? To talk to all of us together, I mean."

Nathaniel sighed and tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling. "I need to know everyone's united." Sitting up straight and stretching as his feet hit the floor, Nathaniel shrugged. "The only way to defeat what's coming is with an offensive attack and the full force of the Avengers."

"And withholding information until you can verify that unity really seems like the best way to go?" Maximoff quirked a brow. She glanced over to Loki, shaking her head.

Nate groaned inwardly. "Look, this isn't my first rodeo. I've been through this a time or two already." He ran a hand through his hair. "It always ends the same – with some of the group sitting around talking about what to do, while the others take the information I've given them and run off, guns blazing, to try handling things on their own."

Nathaniel paused, grimacing as he remembered some of the gorier scenes. He wondered how much to tell. Finally, he just shook his head and settled on saying, "It never ends well for us."

"Okay," Maximoff said hesitantly. "A compromise, then. You just tell us a bit, like – a name," she suggested. "And then we'll all get together to discuss the rest."

Nathaniel gave her an unimpressed look. Then he sighed exaggeratedly and dropped his head in his hands. To the floor, he mutted, "We're wasting time here."

The room was silent for a brief moment. Then, Maximoff spoke, her voice quiet and deathly serious as she said, "Rama-Tut."

Nathaniel's head whipped in the Witch's direction, eyes wide. "How do you know that name?" he hissed.

"A source," Maximoff told him sternly. "What does it mean to you?"

"A source, from this 'verse?" Nathaniel prodded. "Because if so, then that means—"

"What?" Maximoff asked excitedly.

Nate stopped thinking out loud, staring at the woman and then at Loki.

With a groan, Maximoff approached, kneeling down in front of Nate. "Nathaniel. Tell us," she pleaded.

Finally, Nathaniel answered her: "If someone here knows that name, it means he was already here – a long time ago."

"Who? Rama-Tut?" Maximoff asked urgently. "If it he was already here, does that mean we're safe?"

Nate shook his head dejectedly. "You don't get it. No one, no time, no place, is ever safe from him."

"How is that possible? Who is he? What's going to happen?" Maximoff urged, her eyes wide and begging.

Nathaniel closed his eyes and shook his head softly. Then, Maximoff shifted a bit closer, making Nate open his eyes to watch her movements. She leaned forward slightly. Very quietly, she asked, "Is he coming because of you?"

The question took Nate by surprise, and he stared at the Sokovian in surprise. Her eyes darted to the side, toward the one-way mirror where they had an audience that Nate could only speculate about. Then, Maximoff glanced back at him with a worried look. "I need to know if he would be coming here whether you had come or not," she whispered harshly.

"Wha—why are you asking that?" Nate whispered back, furrowing his brows.

"Just, please, tell me."

Nathaniel stared at her, confused. Before he could respond and before she could make another plea, there was an annoyed growl from the other side of the room. Suddenly, Loki was kneeling in front of Nate, too. Nathaniel had enough wits about him to scoot back slightly, knowing full well what the pair was capable of (despite Loki's jokes earlier). But it didn't do any good. Because Nate was still within arm's reach and that was all Loki needed.

Loki reached out with one hand, placing two fingers against Nate's temple.

Nathaniel felt the tingle of seiðr and an unpleasant pressure building, which quickly became unbearable. He wanted to pull away, but found himself incapable of moving. And even though he'd known what was coming in the seconds before it happened, he was unprepared and woefully unequipped to defend himself against the magical onslaught. There was a significant amount of force, centered around his forehead and temple and the base of his neck, giving him a massive headache. But worse than that was the itching.

Everything itched. It was like a million little insects were moving around in his brain and he didn't know how to get them out or how to satisfy the horrible creepy-crawly sensation.

When the seiðr finally released its hold on him, Nate fell back against the bed with a shout.

He quickly righted himself, sitting criss-cross and holding his head in his hands, rocking back and forth and trying to will the pain and irritation that the invasion had caused.

Distantly, he heard voices. And ragged breathing. When he finally managed to open his eyes—squinting, because the fluorescent lights were killing him—he saw Loki on all fours on the floor, struggling to catch his breath.

At some point, the door had opened and Thor had come in with Valkyrie. And there was static electricity in the air as Thor glared at Nathaniel, his eyes glowing an electric blue.

Maximoff had a hand on Loki's back and was looking worriedly at the god.

"What just happened?" Sam shouted, breaking through the din in Nate's head.

Finally, Loki managed to pull himself up, sitting on his knees and leaning back on his heels. He still looked slightly shaken but waved a hand, pushing Maximoff away. "I'm all right," he said, his voice a bit raspy, while climbing to his feet. Then, looking at Nate, Loki narrowed his eyes in suspicion. His voice was a bit stronger when he asked, "What are you?"

Nathaniel sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, the glaring lights too much for him. The other people in the room continued speaking around him.

"Okay, seriously, what happened?" Someone – Sam? – asked again.

"What happened was—" Loki paused, letting out an irritated growl. "Thor! Would you stop with the theatrics?"

The static in the air lessened slightly, but when Nate squinted with one eye, the blue-white of Thor's eyes hadn't faded and there sparks at his fingertips. Without another word, Loki turned and walked out of the room. The others glanced to each other for a few moments, before rushing out after him. Then, Nate was alone again.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Loki walked faster than was probably necessary. He would have preferred to skywalk as far away as possible. But that would have looked too much like fleeing, and he was not about to give anyone that satisfaction. So instead he just stormed off, making his way up the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator.

"Loki!" Thor's voice, laced with concern, boomed down the hall behind him. "Brother, wait!" Thor shouted at him, alongside Valkyrie's, "Lackey!"

"Hey, c'mon, man. Slow down," Rhodes called.

Loki just kept climbing the steps, stopping only when a hand wrapped around his wrist. On instinct, he grabbed the owner of the hand, slamming the offender into the wall.

"Hey!" Several voices shouted, accusing. And at once, Loki knew without looking, weapons were trained on him.

"I'm sorry," Wanda Maximoff said gently, holding her hands up where Loki had her pinned to the wall. "I just, wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine," Loki insisted.

"Then you would do well to release her," the one they called Vision stated. His voice was calm but firm, the threat undeniable.

Releasing the Witch, Loki backed up, placing himself several steps away on the landing they were on within the stairwell. Vision turned to Wanda but she smiled and waved him off. Wilson and Rhodes were both watching Loki warily, and the Captain was hovering above them, encased in orange light.

"He meant no harm," Thor quickly inserted, raising his own hands as he stepped closer to Loki. Whether it was meant to be in surrender to the others or placating and non-defensive toward Loki, it was impossible to say.

"Do not speak for me," Loki hissed. Thor stopped in his tracks.

"What the hell happened in there?" Wilson questioned for the third time.

"I entered his mind," Loki answered plainly.

The man narrowed his eyes, clearly unamused. Through gritted teeth, he asked, "And what did you learn from the kid?"

Loki scoffed. "That is no 'kid.'"

"What d'ya mean?" Valkyrie leaned against the stairwell, her brow arching with curiosity.

"His mind has several lifetimes' worth of memories." Looking pointedly at the do-gooders amongst him, Loki said, "There is much more to that being than he lets on."

"What about Rama-Tut?" The Captain queried, no longer glowing and was standing with her arms folded over her chest.

Loki looked to the blonde. "That is but one name out of several for which your threat is known. And it is an old one."

"So when he said that knowing that name meant the baddie had already been here. . ." Danvers let her voice trail off, looking between Loki and Wanda expectantly.

"In our reality, the threat he speaks of has already come and gone. Centuries ago, under the guise of Rama-Tut." Loki shook his head softly. "But this being travels across the Multiverse. The fact that he's already been here in one incarnation will not prevent him from making an appearance."

"So, who's coming now, then?" Wilson climbed the remaining steps to the landing. "I mean, if it's not this Egyptian wannabe, then who is it?"

Loki grimaced. "Something far worse." He sighed, leaning back against the stair's railing. "He is called Kang." After a brief pause, Loki elaborated, "Kang the Conqueror."

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Meanwhile, in the Soul World. . .

Ava yelped, dropping the screwdriver as she was – once again – shocked by the particle device.

Natasha was leaning with her elbows on the counter, watching with a somewhat amused smirk. Gamora stepped into the room, sipping a cup of coffee, just as Ava threw her hands up and stepped back from the work-table.

"That's it," she announced. "I've ben electrocuted one too many times today."

"Aw, c'mon," Nat crooned. "Keep trying."

Ava shot the Black Widow a heated glare. "You're a sadist, y'know that?"

Natasha stood up straight, smiling. "Stop trying to sweet-talk me."

Gamora set her mug down and leaned forward, looking at the device. "What's the problem, exactly?"

With a sigh, Ava ran a hand through her hair. "I dunno. That's the problem. I've no idea what I'm doing!" Her tone had become increasingly panicked as she spoke, until she shouted the last bit and was flailing her arms in frustration.

Gamora clicked her tongue before picking up the accelerator, inspecting it closely. She ran her fingers along the metal, furrowing her brows lightly. She rubbed one spot a couple times, then held it out toward Ava, pointing at the spot she'd been examining. "Is that divot supposed to be there?"

Ava leaned forward, squinting at the small area that Gamora was referencing. Indeed, there was a little dent. Taking the device out of Gamora's green hand, Ava pulled it up close for a better look. "This must be the part that caused it to appear broken," Ava muttered. From close up, she could see that the dent had caused the metal to separate a bit, so it was no longer air-tight like it was supposed to be.

"The particles are supposed to interact with one another in a certain way. But this stops that from happening."

Gamora nodded, apparently in agreement, but then frowned. "Well, they're obviously still able to interact, or you wouldn't be here."

Natasha walked around the counter, standing next to Ava so she look at the device herself. "So, it still works. Just, not consistently."

"Or reliably," Gamora added.

"Which means we could try it 999 times and having nothing happen, but then it'd work on the thousandth." Ava groaned in frustration.

Natasha leaned on the table again. "Well, we've got nothing but time."

Ava sighed, setting the equipment down. "But I don't have a way to target or direct it. So if it's all wonky, I wouldn't trust it to just, like, take us where we want it to go."

Gamora grimaced. "It could drop us somewhere a lot worse."

Suddenly, Natasha gasped, straightened up, and vaulted herself over the table before bolting out of the room.

"Uh, where's she off to, then?" Ava asked. In response, Gamora only shrugged and took another drink from her coffee mug.

When Natasha returned, she marched triumphantly into the room, carrying a folded-up article of clothing in front of her. She paused in front of table, looking down at the article she held. "Something told me I should keep this," she muttered, almost to herself. Looking up, she had a shit-eating grin on her face. She shook out the outfit and held it up, revealing a silver and black jumpsuit. It looked like it had seen better days, with a few tears and some scuff marks, but was otherwise in good condition.

Natasha dropped the jumper on the table. "You say you need a way to target the quantum leap?"

"Yeah," Ava responded, slowly and carefully.

Positioning the jumpsuit a certain way, Natasha pointed to the belt that sat at the waist. "How about this?"

Ava leaned forward, looking closely at the belt. With a start, she realized she'd seen the suit before, because several people she knew had one just like it. The red, stylized 'A' on the arm confirmed that it was, indeed, one of the quantum suits that the Avengers had used in their Time Heist.

The very suit that Natasha had been wearing when she'd sacrificed herself for the Avengers and their quest to collect the Infinity Stones.

Ava couldn't help feeling a bit emotional about that knowledge. But she pushed it down, focusing instead on the mechanics of the suit. The belt was what allowed the wearer to travel across space and time. And it did indeed appear to be a more elegant design, compared to the significantly older tech Ava was working with from the old suit Cassie had been using.

"Well?" Natasha's voice pulled Ava from her reverie. Only then did the girl realize she'd been running her fingers along the suit and she stopped, looking up at Natasha. "Could you target the jump with stuff from the suit?"

The smile that spread across Ava's face couldn't be contained if she'd tried. "Actually," she began, "why not make it easy and just use the suit itself?"

Gamora looked surprised, her eyes widening. Natasha frowned slightly, not totally convinced. "The suit doesn't work. How are you going to use it?"

Ava grinned, holding up the capsule she'd been working on. "I just need to move some things over, to combine the accelerator and particles I have with the tech from suit."

"And that'll work?" Gamora raised a brow, ever skeptical.

'I'm quite certain this actually gives us a chance." Ava's smile grew even bigger, if that was possible. She didn't waste any time pulling out the capsules of Pym particles, and inspecting the belt on Natasha's suit.

Nat and Gamora watched as Ava worked with renewed vigor, reveling in the prospect of being able to make it home - which seemed far more real than it had been moments before.