The group decided to split. Hughie, Kimiko, and Frenchie went off to tackle groceries, a busted fridge, and whatever counted as "domestic survival mode." Butcher grumbled something about stocking the apartment with enough beer to drown a rugby team.
That left Alex and Deadpool wandering toward the skyline.
"Y'know," Deadpool chirped as they crossed a busy intersection, "this is starting to feel like one of those side quests in a video game. The kind where you think you're heading toward the main mission but instead you spend six hours collecting turnips for a peasant. Except here, the turnip is Tony Stark."
Alex half-smiled, but his focus was ahead—the Avengers Tower rising in the distance, a monument that felt both familiar and foreign.
"Do you think they'll even let us in?" Alex muttered.
Deadpool raised a finger dramatically. "Allow me to answer with a callback from my very own cinematic masterpiece. Thor, God of Thunder, literally cried when he saw me. And not 'aw, what a touching reunion' tears. No. Ugly, sobbing, 'my franchise is doomed' tears. If that doesn't earn us an all-access pass, nothing will."
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're… not helping."
By the time they reached the tower, the new security perimeter was obvious. A barricade of reinforced gates, uniformed guards armed with tech Stark probably wouldn't have approved of, and not a single hint of the old Avengers' welcoming grandeur.
Two guards stepped forward, hands raised.
"Hold it. No entry. This is restricted property."
Deadpool spread his arms wide. "Restricted? But look at me. Don't I scream 'authorized personnel'? Actually, don't answer that. Kids around."
Alex stepped forward, digging into his pocket as his mind scrambled. He needed something—anything—that proved they weren't just randoms trying to storm the tower.
Then it hit him.
The card.
Back when they'd begged Stark for a van and jet, Tony had tossed him a thin black card with the Stark Industries logo embossed in silver. At the time, Alex thought it was just a flex. But maybe—just maybe—
He pulled it out, handed it to the guard.
The guard's eyes narrowed as he scanned it. For a second, Alex thought they'd be thrown in cuffs. But then the man's posture stiffened, his tone sharp with recognition.
"…Where'd you get this?"
"From Stark," Alex said evenly. "He told me to hold onto it."
The guard hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "This card is legit. Stark's signature, authentication codes—everything checks out. But…" He handed it back, voice firm. "Tony Stark doesn't live here anymore. This isn't the Avengers Tower. This is New Avengers property. If you don't have clearance with them, you need to leave."
Deadpool leaned closer, whispering loudly to Alex, "Translation: Tony's ghost ain't paying the rent here anymore."
Alex pocketed the card, his chest tightening. "So where's Stark now?"
The guard's expression was unreadable. "Not here. That's all I can say. Now move along."
Alex turned away, the weight of the rejection settling in his gut. Deadpool sighed dramatically, hands on his hips.
"Welp, that was anticlimactic. Usually, after flashing a fancy card, you either get invited into a secret bunker or shot at by lasers. Honestly, this in-between 'politely denied entry' thing feels insulting."
"Deadpool," Alex muttered, "shut up."
But even as they walked away, Alex couldn't shake the thought: if Stark wasn't at the tower, then where?