Tony wiped sweat from his brow, sparks settling in the air like tiny fireflies. "Alright, lattice's aligned. Bruce, give it a squeeze."
Bruce pressed the brace, muscles flexing, and it held. "Okay… I'm not crushing it. Yet."
Tony leaned down, fiddling with a small console wired into the frame. "Good. We don't need another 'oops, there goes half the warehouse' moment."
Scott peeked over Hope's shoulder. "You sure inverting the polarity won't—"
"—blow a hole in the timeline?" Hope finished. "Yes. But adding the buffer stabilizes it."
"Quantum mechanics," Scott said slowly, "is still terrifying."
Hope smirked. "Welcome to our world."
Clint muttered from behind a coil of cables, "I feel like we're the only ones not going to spontaneously implode."
Steve, lugging another steel frame into position, shot him a tired glance. "Speak for yourself."
Thor lifted his arms as a faint arc of lightning traced between his fingers. "If this goes poorly, I accept responsibility. If not, do not bother me with congratulations."
Tony muttered under his breath, "Yeah, no pressure."
At the far end, Strange's sigils rotated slower now, almost contemplative. The air hummed as if it were testing boundaries, stretching, waiting.
Wanda knelt beside him, her magic flowing like red threads weaving the patterns together. "Careful with the attunement here," she said softly. "Too much pressure and we destabilize the connection."
Strange's gaze didn't waver. "And too little," he murmured, "and it's useless. Balance, as always, is the trick."
Thor glanced toward them. "I do not understand these human calculations, yet I sense purpose."
Tony laughed, tossing a wrench at him. "Yeah, big guy. It's called science. Try to keep up."
Scott nudged Hope, whispering, "Do you think she'd approve of all this… circus energy?"
Hope didn't answer immediately. She just smiled faintly, watching the machines hum to life, the sigils glow brighter, the lattice vibrate in perfect resonance. "…I think she'd like that we try."
Tony wiped his hands on a greasy rag. "Okay… it's ugly."
Scott grinned from a crate. "Ugly, yes. But so was the first one. And look how that turned out—mostly."
Bruce leaned over the console, eyes scanning the stabilizers. "It's holding. Quantum fluctuations are minimal. She won't notice… yet."
Shuri's voice came through the comms, crisp and measured. "Against all odds… it is stable."
Hope stepped closer, running a hand along the interface. "And this… actually reaches the past?"
Tony gave a slow nod. "Hope so. Fingers crossed it's not… optimistic hope."
Steve's arms crossed over his chest. "And if it doesn't?"
Tony met his gaze. "Then we've built a very expensive shrine for nothing."
Clint muttered from his corner, "And yet somehow, it's still terrifying."
Tony shot him a look. "That's why we built it. To terrify impossibility."
At the far end, Strange and Wanda approached, walking through the hum of machinery.
"No coordinates yet," Strange said, tone tight with focus.
"But she's still there," Wanda finished, eyes scanning the faint ripple of energy across the platform.
Tony let out a long breath. "Good."
Clint tilted his head. "Good?"
Tony nodded slowly. "Good means we're not too late. That's all it means."
Steve exhaled softly, more to himself than anyone else. "Not too late… that's something."
Wanda's gaze lingered on the interface, fingers brushing lightly over her magic. "We're not just rebuilding a machine," she said quietly. "We're rebuilding a chance."
Scott leaned back, rubbing his eyes. "And caffeine. Don't forget the caffeine."
Tony cracked a tired smile. "Yeah. Fuel of heroes and desperate geniuses alike."
They all looked at the platform, at the jumble of tech, magic, and handwritten notes taped haphazardly to its sides.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't elegant. But it was theirs.
A month of work. No victory yet.
But the universe hadn't ended.
Armor sealed. Straps tightened. Web‑shooters checked. Quivers secured.
Tony stood at the center of the ring platform, helmet open.
"One last time," he said, voice steady. "We're not fixing history. We're borrowing someone from it."
Steve nodded. "Clean. Fast."
Thor rested Stormbreaker against his shoulder, jaw tight. Peter bounced lightly on his heels, nervous energy barely contained.
Clint glanced back at Bruce and Hope, standing by the control console. "You're the babysitters," he said. "If we don't come back—"
"—you don't touch anything," Hope finished. "Yes. We know."
Bruce gave a slow nod. "We watch. We wait."
Strange and Wanda stood apart, already preparing their sigils.
"We won't stop searching," Strange said quietly. "Timelines. Universes. Anything that echoes her."
Wanda met Steve's eyes briefly. "We'll find her."
Tony exhaled. "Okay."
The machine powered up. Blue light flooded the ring. Time folded inward—not violently, not loudly—but decisively.
And then—
They jumped.
One second. That's all it took.
The Tesseract skidded across polished floors—Loki's fingers closed around it. Light exploded. And at the exact same instant, the team landed directly in front of their past selves.
Captain America barely registered the flash.
Thor did. His eyes locked on Loki.
"Brother—!" He reached out. Touched him.
The Tesseract flared brighter.
Steve collided with Tony. Peter crashed into Clint. Clint grabbed Scott. Every body brushed another—a chain reaction. Space folded violently inward.
And then they were gone.
They fell out of the sky. Hard. Sand, heat, wind.
Loki slammed face‑first into the desert, rolling as grit filled his mouth.
The Avengers hit the ground around him in various undignified ways—Steve rolling to a knee, Tony skidding, Peter yelping, Clint cursing under his breath.
For a beat, there was only coughing, spitting sand, groaning.
Loki pushed himself up, choking, spitting sand from his mouth.
"What—" cough. He brushed sand from his coat, furious and disoriented.
Then he looked up.
Loki froze. "Oh," he said slowly, eyes narrowing. "This is… new."
He pushed himself upright, green eyes flicking between the Avengers. "Well," he said dryly, "either I've finally lost my grip on reality—"
His gaze landed on Thor. "…or my brother looks very different."
Thor stepped forward, voice thick. "Loki…"
Loki raised his hands slightly, cautious now. "Careful. You all dropped out of the sky like angry gods."
Tony's helmet retracted. "Okay," he muttered. "This is officially awkward."
Loki straightened, regaining composure like it was armor.
Then the desert wind howled.
And just beside them, unseen, time rippled—aware, at last, that it had been tampered with again.
The air cracked—not with lightning, not with magic, but with something bureaucratic.
Golden lines tore across the sky, forming sharp, geometric doors that should not exist in a desert. Symbols flickered along their edges—cold, precise, indifferent.
Loki barely had time to turn. "What now—"
Figures stepped through.
Uniformed. Armored. Faces calm in a way that had nothing to do with confidence and everything to do with authority.
"Loki Laufeyson," one of them said flatly, "you are under arrest for crimes against the Sacred Timeline."
Thor moved instantly. "You will not take him!"
He swung Stormbreaker—it passed through the TVA agent like air. "What sorcery is this?" Thor snarled.
The agents moved fast.
Batons flared, releasing pulses that hurt—not physically, but existentially. Steve blocked one on instinct and was thrown backward. Clint fired. It worked. For half a second. Then time around them stuttered.
"Focus on the Variant!" one agent barked.
Another lunged for Loki. Tony fired a repulsor blast point-blank.
It knocked the agent back—but didn't stop them.
"Hey!" Peter shouted. "You don't get to kidnap people in front of us!"
Loki twisted, eyes wide, clutching the Tesseract. "Thor—!"
A collar snapped around his neck.
Time froze around him.
He hung mid-movement, eyes locked on his brother.
Thor reached out—"NO!"
A time door opened behind Loki, glowing amber.
Two agents dragged him backward. Then he was gone.
The door snapped shut.
The desert fell silent.
No portals. No agents.
Just the Avengers, standing in the sand, weapons half‑raised, staring at… nothing.
Peter broke the silence first. "…What. The. Freak."
Thor remained rigid, chest heaving.
"They took him," he said, disbelief and fury colliding. "Who were they?"
Steve scanned the horizon, eyes sharp. "Doesn't look human, that's for sure."
Scott squinted at the sky. "Guys… I don't think that was supposed to happen."
Thor clenched his fists, jaw tight. "We go after them."
"No," Steve said firmly. "We don't even know who—or what—they are."
Tony nodded. "Nor where they went."
He looked around the group, voice low but urgent. "We go back. Now. Before this gets even more broken."
No one argued.
They activated the return.
~~~
The machine hummed.
And released them.
They stumbled onto concrete and cables, landing hard. Dust and sparks rose around them.
The warehouse was quiet again, but the weight of what had just happened pressed down on every one of them.