The drawer full of Infinity Stones—reduced to nothing more than glorified paperweights—left Loki feeling utterly defeated.
Just hours ago, he'd been meticulously plotting how to reclaim the Tesseract. Now? Not only could he take it back, he could probably use it as a stress ball. The realization forced him to completely reassess the Time Variance Authority's power level. These people operated on a scale that made the Infinity Stones themselves obsolete. That was... troubling, to say the least.
"Looks like I'll need to get my hands on their equipment instead," Loki muttered under his breath, fingers drumming against his knee as he recalculated his escape strategy.
If the Tesseract was useless here, he needed a new angle. His mind drifted back to the hunters who'd apprehended him—their weapons had dropped him instantly, the temporal collar had stripped away his magic like peeling an orange, and those Time Doors... now those were interesting. Any one of those pieces of technology would be invaluable. If he could acquire them, all he'd need was a single opportunity to slip away, and these bureaucratic time-keepers would never catch him again.
A practiced, charming smile spread across Loki's face as the pieces fell into place.
Getting that equipment meant gaining access to the hunters, which meant he needed to play nice with Mobius—the agent who'd left him in this glorified waiting room. Since Mobius apparently needed his help with something, it shouldn't be too difficult to request some "necessary tools" for the job, right? A little cooperation here, a bit of manipulation there, and he'd have everything he needed.
The plan crystallized in his mind with satisfying clarity. All he had to do was follow the script, bide his time, and he'd be free of this place.
Meanwhile, back on Earth, Marcus watched the exact same scene unfold through the Eye of the Void.
"That many Infinity Stones just... sitting in a drawer?" A low chuckle escaped him as he observed the casual disrespect. "In the TVA, they're nothing but shiny rocks. Decorative at best. The power hierarchy here is fascinating."
The implications intrigued him deeply. A relatively small organization like the Time Variance Authority possessed enough power to render the Infinity Stones irrelevant. Whatever authority controlled this place from the shadows had to be operating on a cosmic scale that dwarfed even Thanos. Marcus felt his curiosity burning brighter.
He needed a closer look.
A tendril of void energy rose from his fingertip, dark and shimmering like oil on water. With a casual flick of his wrist, Marcus sent it shooting forward. The tendril punched through reality itself, traversing the gap between dimensions in an instant, and slipped unnoticed into the TVA's halls before settling gently onto Loki's form.
Loki flinched slightly, then sneezed.
"Ugh, mortal bodies are pathetic," he grumbled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Is this what Thor dealt with in New Mexico? No wonder he was so grumpy."
With his powers sealed and his physical form weakened to human standards, Loki was experiencing vulnerability in a way he never had before. It was deeply unsettling. He was a mage—the finest in the Nine Realms, thank you very much. Sure, he preferred twin daggers for close-quarters work, but his foundation was magical, and mages were notoriously fragile without their power.
Yet even his natural Asgardian constitution, weakened as it was, still far outstripped what regular humans dealt with every day. The comparison made him grimace.
Rubbing his nose irritably, Loki shifted his attention back to his surroundings, settling in to wait for Mobius's return.
Hidden within his distinctive green eyes, a faint trace of void energy flickered and pulsed, transmitting everything Loki saw and heard directly back to Marcus.
It didn't take long. Mobius pushed through the door carrying a data pad, looking pleased with himself. "Good news—I got approval from the judge. This authorizes me to remove your temporal collar."
He approached Loki with the device held up like a trophy. The reason for this uncharacteristic leniency was simple: Mobius needed Loki's help. The target they were hunting was another Loki—a Variant who'd escaped TVA custody and had been causing timeline chaos ever since.
The two walked side by side down the corridor, making small talk about the case. When they reached a relatively isolated section with no other personnel around, Mobius produced a small remote from his pocket. He pressed a button, and the collar around Loki's neck flickered and died, its orange glow fading to black.
Immediately, Loki felt the rush of his magic returning—like taking a full breath after nearly drowning. The sensation was exhilarating.
His gaze dropped to the remote in Mobius's hand, and something predatory flickered behind his eyes. That device. I need it.
The remote was the key to everything. With it, he could disable his collar at will and make his escape. But attacking Mobius here and now would be suicide—this was still TVA headquarters, crawling with hunters and reset charges. Even if he took out Mobius and grabbed the remote, he'd never make it to a Time Door before being overwhelmed.
No, this required patience. He'd play along for now.
After restoring Loki's abilities, Mobius raised his TemPad and swiped through the interface. A glowing orange doorway materialized in the air before them, its edges crackling with temporal energy. Mobius gestured forward. "After you."
Loki stepped through, and immediately his equilibrium lurched.
The world on the other side looked wrong. At first glance, everything seemed inverted—like gravity had decided to take a coffee break and reality was just improvising. The ground beneath his feet felt solid enough, but in the distance, he could see buildings jutting upward from what should have been the sky. If not for the warm lights glowing in those distant windows, Loki would've assumed Mobius had just dumped him in some eldritch exile dimension.
"We're looking for someone," Mobius explained, consulting his TemPad as they walked. "I got a lock on her location. She should be nearby."
"Her?" Loki's eyebrows shot up.
The TVA—this supposedly all-powerful organization that policed the timeline itself—was being run in circles by a woman? Now that was interesting. His curiosity sharpened immediately.
Maybe this person could be an ally. After all, anyone who could single-handedly embarrass the TVA was clearly resourceful. Perhaps they could help each other.
The two began walking toward the distant lights. If they were hunting someone, it made sense to head for population centers, and those illuminated buildings definitely suggested habitation.
Back in his quarters, Marcus burst out laughing.
"Oh, that's perfect!" He leaned back in his chair, grinning widely. "They're hunting Loki with Loki. And she's a woman? This timeline is wild."
Through the void connection anchored in Loki's body, Marcus had access to far more than just sight and sound. He could sense the flow of information around the TVA, catch fragments of data from Mobius's TemPad, even pick up on the temporal signatures they were tracking. The target's identity had become crystal clear: Sylvie—the female Loki Variant who'd been tearing the Sacred Timeline apart piece by piece.
"Though I have to wonder..." Marcus mused, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the armrest. "If the timeline splits created alternate versions like this, does that mean changes ripple backward? Or does each branch spawn a completely independent reality?"
Under normal circumstances, a female version of Loki shouldn't exist. Loki was male—that was a fixed point across most timelines. Yet here was Sylvie, different name but same fundamental identity. The implications were fascinating.
If Sylvie's timeline could produce a female Loki, what else was out there? Could there be a timeline with a female Tony Stark? Female Thor? Female Steve Rogers? Hell, maybe there was a universe with a male Natasha Romanoff.
The thought made Marcus's grin widen even further. The multiverse was full of surprises.
Earth - Reconstruction Efforts
With Thanos's defeat and his army scattered to the winds, nations across Earth had begun the long process of rebuilding.
But the war had taught them a harsh lesson: Earth was fragile. Terrifyingly so.
Even with the support of enhanced individuals, heroes, and advanced technology, they'd barely held the line against Thanos's forces. It had taken everything they had—every missile, every bullet, every ounce of courage—just to survive. And that was with Marcus showing up to turn the tide.
The nuclear option, humanity's ace in the hole, had proven less devastating than they'd hoped. Sure, the initial detonations had vaporized thousands of Chitauri and Outriders in spectacular fashion, but the interstellar civilizations they were facing had countermeasures. Shielding technology, rapid evacuation protocols, hardened drop ships—the aliens adapted quickly.
Nukes weren't useless, but they weren't the trump card Earth had believed them to be.
"After this war, I think we all understand just how outmatched we really are," Tony said grimly, standing at the head of the conference table.
Around him sat the core Avengers team, gathered in one of the base's secure meeting rooms. Everyone at the table knew he was right.
Steve nodded, his expression somber. Even as a super-soldier—someone who'd pushed the human body to its absolute peak—he understood the limits of what they could accomplish. In a one-on-one fight, he could hold his own against most enemies. But against a sustained invasion? Numbers would overwhelm him eventually.
"Those of us with powers fared better," Wanda added quietly, her fingers tracing the edge of her coffee cup. "Pietro and I could fight for extended periods. Peter's mobility kept him alive. Bruce could smash his way through hordes when sufficiently angry. But even then..."
"Even then, we were running on fumes by the end," Clint finished, arms crossed. "Natasha and I were going through arrows and ammunition faster than we could restock. Every fight became a resource management game."
"Same for me," Tony admitted. "The armor held up, but power cells were draining fast. I had to ration repulsor blasts by the end. Bucky was in the same boat—conventional weapons only get you so far."
Bucky grunted in agreement, his vibranium arm gleaming dully in the overhead lights. "Every nation on Earth burned through their entire weapons stockpile just to slow Thanos down. That's not sustainable. We got lucky."
"Lucky is right," Sam added. "Because when Marcus showed up, he ended the battle in minutes. What took us days of grinding combat, he handled with a wave of his hand."
The weight of that statement settled over the room like a heavy blanket.
"I've known Marcus for decades," Bucky said slowly, leaning back in his chair. "Longer than most of you. I lived on his farm with him and Howard after he pulled me out of Hydra's clutches. We spent years together, and I thought I understood what he was capable of."
He paused, shaking his head. "But what I saw during the battle? That was beyond anything I'd witnessed before. The way he erased entire battalions like they were nothing... Can one person really possess that much power?"
Tony's expression was unreadable. "Years ago, Marcus was the Stark family's bodyguard. Enhanced, sure, but still grounded. Now?" He gestured vaguely toward the window. "Now he's something else entirely. The power scaling doesn't even make sense anymore."
Natasha, who'd been silent until now, spoke up. "Even Thor at full power, channeling the Bifrost and lightning simultaneously, couldn't do what Marcus did. And Thor's a god."
The Young Avengers
In the corner of the room, three younger heroes sat apart from the main discussion, their attention focused elsewhere.
Peter Parker, Pietro Maximoff, and Wanda Maximoff—the newest additions to the Avengers roster—hadn't been around long enough to have personal history with Marcus. To them, he was less a person and more a legend, a figure whose power seemed almost mythological.
"Did you guys actually see him that day?" Peter asked, eyes wide with excitement behind his mask. The teenager practically vibrated with energy. "Like, really see him? Because what I caught glimpses of was insane."
Pietro, only a few years older than Peter, nodded enthusiastically. "I saw enough. I pushed my speed to the absolute limit—we're talking everything-looks-frozen-in-time fast—and I still couldn't catch up to one of his blood blades. Not even close."
He laughed, though there was an edge of disbelief in it. "That's never happened before. Usually, when I run, I can outpace anything. Bullets look like they're standing still. But those blades? They made me look slow."
Wanda, more reserved than her brother and Peter, listened quietly. Where they felt admiration, she felt gratitude. Her chaos magic had allowed her to manipulate objects, shield civilians, even affect the minds of attacking soldiers—but sustaining that level of output across hours of combat had nearly broken her.
By the time Marcus arrived, she'd been running on fumes, her power flickering like a dying lightbulb. If he hadn't shown up when he did, she would've collapsed, and a lot more people would've died.
"I want to learn from him," she said suddenly, her voice soft but determined.
Pietro and Peter both turned to look at her.
"I think my abilities might be similar to his," Wanda continued, meeting their gazes. "The way his power manifests—it's red, like mine. And the techniques he used, controlling multiple objects simultaneously, exerting force at a distance... I can do those things too. Maybe not on his scale, but the foundation is there."
Peter's eyes lit up behind his mask. "You think he'd teach you?"
"Only one way to find out," Pietro said, grinning. He glanced back at the ongoing meeting, where the adults were still deep in strategic discussion. "We're not really contributing much here anyway. Why don't we go find him and ask?"
The three exchanged looks, and matching smiles spread across their faces.
Moving as casually as possible to avoid drawing attention, they slipped out of the conference room. A few of the senior Avengers noticed—Tony's eyes tracked them briefly, and Steve gave a slight nod—but no one moved to stop them.
They were young, and this was supposed to be a tactical debriefing. As long as they didn't bother Marcus too much, there was no harm in letting them go.
The trio made their way through the residential wing of the compound, their excitement building with each step. When they finally reached Marcus's door, Pietro raised his hand to knock—
—and immediately found himself frozen in place.
Crimson energy wrapped around his body, locking his joints and preventing movement. He glanced sideways to see Wanda's hand raised, red mist curling around her fingers.
"Don't," she warned, her voice tight. "Something's wrong. I can feel it."
"She's right," Peter added, his voice strained. Every hair on his body was standing on end, his spider-sense screaming danger. "That door... whatever's on the other side, it's dangerous. Like, really, really dangerous."
Pietro's cocky grin faded. He trusted his sister's instincts and Peter's abilities implicitly. If both of them were warning him off, there was a real threat behind that door.
Wanda released her hold, and Pietro quickly stepped back, putting distance between himself and the door.
Inside the room, Marcus opened his eyes.
The void energy that had been swirling around him like a miniature galaxy retracted, flowing back into his body in smooth, controlled streams. He could sense the three young people standing outside, their hesitation, their fear.
"Visitors," he murmured, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Familiar, yet not."
He'd seen all three of them before—but not these versions. In the X-Men universe, he'd encountered Pietro as a high school student and Wanda as a child. In another reality, he'd met a college-aged Peter Parker during a spider-incident.
Those experiences created a strange sense of déjà vu. He knew these people, but also didn't. This was his first time meeting this world's versions of them.
Rising from his seated position, Marcus walked to the door and pulled it open, offering the startled trio a warm smile.
"What can I do for you three?"
As he spoke, he took a moment to really look at them. The differences from his memories were striking. Pietro and Wanda were twins here, both appearing to be college-aged, while Peter looked like he was still in high school—skinny, gangly, with that awkward teenage energy.
The three visitors jumped slightly when the door opened, clearly not expecting him to know they were there. But seeing Marcus in person—relaxed, approachable, smiling—helped calm their nerves.
Pietro recovered first, stepping forward. "We were hoping... I mean, Wanda was wondering... could you maybe teach her how to use those flying swords? The ones you used during the battle?"
Marcus nearly laughed. Flying swords? They thought the River of Blood Blades was a technique?
"You want to learn the River of Blood Blades?" he asked, amused. "That's not really a learnable skill, unfortunately. Those weapons are formed from blood—specifically my blood, enhanced by void energy. Even if Wanda has chaos magic, she wouldn't be able to replicate that exact effect."
The disappointment on their faces was immediate and obvious.
Marcus held up a hand. "However—there is something similar I could teach her. The principle is the same: simultaneous control and direction of multiple objects. If Wanda could carry, say, a thousand small blades with her, she could absolutely achieve a similar effect using her telekinesis."
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "The real challenge isn't the power itself—it's the mental discipline. Controlling hundreds or thousands of independent objects while maintaining awareness of your surroundings, tracking enemies, and coordinating attacks? That takes practice. A lot of practice."
Wanda's eyes widened, hope rekindling. "You'd teach me that?"
"If you're willing to put in the work," Marcus replied. "Fair warning, though—it won't be easy. This kind of training requires focus, patience, and repetition. You'll probably get frustrated. But if you stick with it?" He smiled. "You could become incredibly dangerous."
Pietro and Peter exchanged excited glances, and even Wanda allowed herself a small smile.
Marcus stepped back, gesturing for them to enter. "Come on in. If we're going to do this, might as well start now."