Natasha flew the jet back towards Avengers tower in silence, and the rest of the team strapped in behind her followed her example. Until, predictably, Tony broke the silence.
"So… we saved the world from talking mice. Talking mice in a metal, tuxedo-clad, human suit, sure, but talking mice. I'm not stoned, am I? This isn't an effect of residual LSD or something normal like that? Cap? Capsicle? Any chance you went a bit too in-depth in your 'experiencing all the culture I missed' thing? I swear I won't be mad if got up to a bit of chemistry in the kitchen and this is all just a cross-contamination-induced hallucination."
The Captain, ever the optimist, made no attempt to answer, choosing instead to quietly mumble, "There's no place like home," while gently tapping his heels against one another. He was not so far gone as to believe this would help, but, sometimes, he found that a bit of delusion was more pleasant by far than whatever fresh hell this future had waiting to be unleashed. Monologuing mice with their eyes set on world domination certainly counted. It also made Stark's son back off, which helped.
"Bruce? Science bro? Anything?"
Bruce looked up from the notes he had had the chance to take since the other guy hadn't really been needed, frowning, but still with that odd smile he never seemed to lose… well, almost never. Commendably rarely, really, how seldom he stopped smiling. "Toilet paper. He was trying to generate radio waves that would dissolve toilet paper."
Clint started laughing
"Worldwide."
Clint stopped laughing. "But that would… well, shit-"
"Yes, Legolas, exactly. Shit. Two big stinking handfuls. Literally."
Clint grimaced. "Hey, Nat? Remember Snowball? Think these might have been the mice he was always so obsessed with? The Bra-"
Natasha cut thrusters. Just enough to make everyone start to panic by grabbing whatever bits of the jet (or, they could reach, and then reengaged. The rest of the flight went past in blessed silence.
A very long way away, two strange mice were making their way towards an old laboratory. Both were, oddly enough, walking; one tall and skinny, the other short, with a freakishly large head. The tall one never seemed to keep to a straight path, always wandering, while the shorter one walked with his paws behind his back, in the attitude of a human in deep thought.
The shorter one finally seemed to reach the end of whatever line of thought he'd been pondering, turned to his tall companion, and intoned, in the manner of one initiating a long-established ritual, "We must prepare for tomorrow night."
"Why, Brain? What are we going to do tomorrow night?"
"The same thing we do every night, Pinky - try to take over the world!"