The room was still, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner struggling against the desert heat. A lamp on the night stand threw soft amber light across the walls, illuminating the worn curtains and a pair of chairs that had seen better days.
Freya sat on the bed, cloak still around her shoulders, watching Luther as he set his mask neatly on the desk. He turned, crossed the short space, and settled beside her. She shifted behind him, pressing her chest lightly to his back, looping her arms around his neck. It wasn't seduction or a test—it was a habit, a quiet claim.
For a while, silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken things. Freya broke it first, her tone soft, almost casual.
"You're too tense," she murmured, chin resting near his shoulder. "You should loosen up. Perhaps remove those clothes at least."
Luther's eyes flicked toward her, voice steady. "No need. I'm comfortable as I am."
Freya's lips curved faintly, amusement—or disappointment—hard to read. She didn't push further. Quiet returned, carrying the weight of everything unsaid.
As both of them prepared to sleep far from them across the city, in Hank Pym's cluttered basement lab, the projector flickered to life. Its raw footage cut across stacks of notes and half-finished prototypes. Masked and cloaked, Luther tore through the black site like a force of nature. His constructs swelled and shrank with terrifying precision, Pym Particles bending flesh and steel alike. Guards screamed as bodies warped—one man crushed against a bulkhead, another shriveled to nothing, his cry cut short. The massacre was methodical and merciless.
Hank froze, glasses low on his nose. Sitwell's mangled body lingered in the frame.
Fury's voice broke the silence, flat and unforgiving.
"Recognize it? That's your work, Hank. Being used to slaughter innocent soldiers."
Hank's eyes snapped toward him.
"Don't patronize me. I didn't build them for this, and I sure as hell didn't hand them over. So don't you dare stand here and put this on me."
Tony Stark gave a humorless laugh, arms crossed, expression sardonic.
"Then explain how Luther's tossing your particles around like party favors. Last I checked, you swore your miracle dust was locked tighter than Fort Knox."
Hank bristled.
"I buried the research, dismantled the lab, and burned every trace. If someone has it now, they stole it—or rebuilt it from scraps. I didn't hand it over."
Fury's one eye stayed fixed, unmoving.
"Doesn't matter. It's out. People are dying because someone turned your science into a scalpel."
Hank slammed his palm against the workbench; tools rattled.
"Don't put this on me! I warned S.H.I.E.L.D. decades ago, told you to keep away from my work, and warned what it could do. And now? Now someone has gotten the technology; instead of stopping them, you are here to blame me. "
Tony's smirk faltered, replaced with bitterness.
"Cute. Sounds familiar. I've had psychos steal my toys and turn them into weapons of destruction. Welcome to the club, Doc."
Hank's glare cut like glass.
"Don't compare me to you. I never built weapons. I built science. You built bombs—and ugly suits that kill faster."
Tony muttered under his breath, eyes still on the frozen frame of Luther: "Old man with no sense of fashion."
Fury stepped in, voice even but heavy.
"You can hate Stark all you want, Hank. But at least he's in the fight. Unlike you—denying while people are dying because of your invention. We only have one option, which is to stop him. For that, I need you in the room. A team to develop countermeasures."
Hank's shoulders stiffened.
"if you want my help, then first I want my company back, and also Cross gone—a simple exchange."
Fury didn't blink.
"You help us, we help you. As for Cross, by tomorrow he would be arrested for supplying weapons to the terrorist, and If you don't want Particles used for evil, work with us."
Hank exhaled slowly, bitter. "You bastards never change." But he didn't say no for him this was the best deal.
Back at the hotel, Lily's room was quiet. Mjolnir rested beside her bed as she slept peacefully, though another presence lingered, invisible but intent. A figure leaned close, his hand hovering over her head brushing against her dreams. Flickers of battlefields, monsters, other worlds, and secrets bled into his grasp.
As he carefully gathers the intelligence In the adjoining room, Freya's eyes snapped open,as she felt a strange presence in the other room. She sat up, voice sharp.
"Luther."
He was seated near the window, half-alert even in rest. At her tone, he looked up.
"Someone's in Lily's room."
Luther didn't hesitate. He rose, gripping the power axe at his bedside, which he had put there for defense, its energy field humming faintly, eagerly.
Freya pointed toward the wall separating Lily's room from theirs.
With precision, Luther swung. The axe's field tore through the wall, splinters and dust scattering. The sound of cracking plaster jolted Lily awake. She jolted upright, eyes wide, heart hammering.
"What—what did you do?!" she shrieked, fear and confusion mixing in her voice.
The shadow, getting hit by the axe, completely dissipates like smoke, impervious to the raw force of the power axe. Luther quickly tries to scan the room, but he couldn't find anyone.
"That doesn't look like Loki," Luther whispered, his mind trying to figure out who that figure was .
"I don't know much about the Loki in this world, but whatever that thing was, it was definitely not a god," Freya corrected him.
As they talked about Lily, who was forced to wake up glared at Luther. "If you want to kill me, just say it," she spat, her voice a low, dangerous whisper. "No need to give me a scare."
Luther ignoring her complaint entered the room; as he picked up the axe he said, "nobody wants to kill you; it's just somebody was in your room."
"Then why didn't I feel it?" Lily murmured, blinking her eyes as she looked around.
"Because it's invisible," Luther and Freya said in unison.
They exchanged a brief glance, a flicker of shared understanding passing between them.
Lily crossed her arms and pouted, her eyes narrowing as she didn't care about The invisible enemy or whatever that thing was as she was more worried about both Freya and Luther getting close.
After the incident, all three of them stared at each other, silently acknowledging the next impossible task: what would they even tell the hotel manager? should they pretend this wall has always been like this?
The night just got more confusing for all three of them.
Author note : Christmas and New year is over now i can restart writing