a/n: So, I've been trying to process the outcome of Avengers: Endgame. Although I am, ultimately, railing against the canon events, I figured I better at least try to consider what the Marvel movie-verse might look like from this point forward. So, this fic is basically about how the characters heal after their second round with Thanos, and where life takes them from there. Also, there's one character I simply could not let go of, so I'm including a fix-it for why he is alive (& one of the focal points of this fic). Not gonna lie: I'm not 100% positive where, exactly, this is gonna go – mostly, just a lot of FEELS. And I am going to try to update semi-regularly, but can't make any promises. Enjoy, and please share your thoughts in a review.
Love, Doc
Chapter 1: New Normal
The eight- year-old made her way through the hallways of the Avengers compound as casually as she could manage. The hallway – and the compound itself, for the most part – was empty, which wasn't out of the ordinary these days. The girl's destination was at the farthest edge of the compound and was even more deserted than the rest of the complex. She readjusted her sparkly purple backpack, careful not to damage the previous contents she was smuggling.
When the hallway ended at a door, the girl stood on her tip-toes to reach the keypad, where she pressed her thumb to a fingerprint scanner, waited for the beep, and then entered the pre-set passcode: 3-0-0-0
The keypad flashed a green light and sounded a series of ascending beeps. Then, F.R.I.D.A.Y. proclaimed, "Identity recognized: Morgan Stark. Entry: Granted." The doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and Morgan walked through.
"Welcome to the Stark Wing," FRIDAY's automated voice announced.
"Thanks, FRIDAY," Morgan chirped back to the AI.
The Stark Wing was less a full wing of the compound and more like a mini-laboratory/workshop, with what was comparable to a studio apartment attached, complete with a bathroom, bed, seating area with a small TV, and a kitchenette.
Gingerly placing her backpack on the table in the workshop, Morgan unzipped it, reached in, and produced the recognizable vibranium helmet. Of the collection of old and outdated suits that was stored in one of the many garages on the compound, this one - the red and silver Mark V - was one of her favorites. She placed it on the table, positioning it so the eyes of the helmet were facing her. Patting the top of the helmet, as one would a child on the head, she said, "Time to get to work, Daddy."
From within another pouch in the backpack, the girl pulled out a circuit board and several small tools. She laid each item on the table, organizing and lining them up. Once all the contents had been freed from the pack, Morgan picked up a small tool that resembled a pen-light. Except, it had a laser on the end. She pressed the tip to the circuit board, triggering the laser, before skillfully maneuvering it along the board. After about 15 minutes, the girl set the laser-pen down and inspected her work.
"Looks good to me," she mumbled, tilting the circuitry to 'show' it to the Iron-Man helmet. Then she grabbed a pair of needle-nose pliers and used those to move around wires in an inner-segment of the board. Another 10 minutes or so ticked by. Morgan was focused intently on her work, biting the inside of her cheek as she stared down at her project.
Only when she heard the faint beep of the keypad outside the door did Morgan look up. She set her tools down and spun around in her chair, watching the door. The ascending beeps rang out and the doors slid open as FRIDAY announced the person's presence, "Identity recognized: Wanda Maximoff. Entry: Granted."
"Auntie Wanda!" Morgan exclaimed sweetly, jumping off the chair and racing over to the auburn-haired woman in the doorway.
"Oof," Wanda groaned slightly as Morgan crashed into her, hugging her waist. "Hello to you, too, little one." After patting the girl's back, Wanda gently grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her from the embrace. Wanda dropped to one knee so she was eye-level with Morgan. "I have been looking all over for you," she said sternly, her Sokovian accent seeming thicker from the worry.
Morgan frowned. "I'm sorry, Wanda, but I have this project—"
"Next time, you tell me first, yes?" Wanda interrupted before she sighed and tousled the girl's brunette locks.
With a nod, Morgan skipped back over to the work table. Wanda dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, leaning her head back. She listened to the sounds of Morgan's tools clicking and thumping, with a small hum or whir now and then, and closed her eyes. It was quiet times like these that she truly felt the weight of the last three years, and the five years before that. And the years before that, even; although, those days felt like they were a lifetime away comparatively. The last eight though? Every moment was ingrained in Wanda's mind. From their civil war, which now seemed so foolish and like such a waste, to the fight in Wakanda, which for Wanda ended quite suddenly, like the blink of an eye.
And then, just as suddenly, in the next blink, Wanda had come 'back' and was charging into another fight. Which, in the grander scheme of things, they did win.
But they lost, too.
And the time since then has been dragging on, as all those who were left learned to live with their new normal. Which they all felt was profoundly lacking, although none of them would really say that out loud.
Wanda drew in a long, slow breath. She let the air fill her lungs and held it for a moment before exhaling even slower. She hoped that some of the weight, which had settled in the pit of her stomach, would expel with the breath. She wasn't surprised, though, when she opened her eyes and the heavy, yet somehow empty, feeling was still there.
The sound of a zipper drew her attention. Wanda looked over to the work-table and watched as Morgan gathered up her materials. The girl moved with care, packing items into containers or sheathing them in sleeves before slipping them into her backpack. As Wanda pushed herself off the couch, she couldn't help but wonder where Morgan had put all her school supplies now that her pack was acting as a makeshift toolbox. With it being summer, though, Wanda decided not to bother asking. She would let Pepper worry about pencils and the like in a couple months when school was back in session. Wanda approached the work-table just as Morgan was reaching for the Iron-Man helmet, causing the girl to freeze with her arm in mid-air.
"What might this be?" Wanda asked suspiciously, picking up the helmet.
Images flashed through the Sokovian woman's mind of the charismatic man who originally donned the metal suit. Wanda felt her eyes getting misty and she blinked a few rapid times.
"Your mother has been asking me how this keeps finding its way to different locations." Looking at Morgan, she said, "I tell her, it must be growing legs and wandering the compound." Then, with a wink, Wanda handed the helmet to the girl. She took it graciously, placing it in her backpack with extreme caution.
All packed up, Wanda expected her to jump up and head out. But Morgan sat very still, staring down at the table somberly. "I miss him," she said, almost in a whisper.
"I know you do, solnyshka," Wanda cooed as she ran her hands through Morgan's hair. "I miss him, too," she confessed.
Suddenly, Morgan looked up. "We're absolutely sure there's no way we could. . . ya know?"
Wanda sucked in a shuddery breath. Morgan had asked the question a million times before. It had been a while since she had last asked, though, and Wanda had hoped the subject was closed. How millions of people returned from the supposed dead was difficult enough to explain to a child. But then trying to tell that child that her father cannot also be raised from the dead was a whole other uphill battle.
"Morgan, we've talked about this."
"I know, I know," Morgan replied dejectedly. "I just guess I always kind of hoped that since you and Bucky and the others came back, that maybe there'd be some way. . ."
Leaning across the table on her elbows, Wanda looked in the girl's amber eyes – which were hauntingly reminiscent of her father's, except they were filled with light and an innocent hopefulness rather than the heavy sadness and desperation that had often shown in Tony's. "You know that what happened to myself, and to Bucky and Sam and everyone, that was different."
Morgan bit her lip, then softly asked, "Like how Vision can't come back?"
The question hit Wanda like a ton of bricks. Emotion swelled and lodged in her throat. She cleared it, trying to regain the ability to speak. "Right," was all she could manage.
"But my dad and Vision aren't the same either, right?"
Wanda swallowed hard and nodded. "Right again, milaya."
After a moment of silence and stillness, Morgan started nodding slowly. Then, she placed a hand on Wanda's forearm. She looked up at Wanda with sheer determination. "My dad for sure can't come back. But Vision. . . Maybe Vision is a different story." Suddenly, Morgan got a far-away look in her eyes. The gears in her head reeled as a million possibilities raced through her mind and she quickly sifted through them, trying to determine what information was relevant and what could be discarded.
"Wait, what?" Wanda asked, shaking her head in confusion. Somehow, she always felt like she was about ten steps behind the girl, who had obviously inherited her father's brilliance (but not the need to be a peacock and show off that intelligence – yet).
"You said Vision was an android. He came from my dad's old AI. And, of course, Daddy was a major tech-hoarder. So all I need to do is pull up and restore his old records, reactivate a few things, and secure a strong enough energy source. Then, maybe. . ." the girl's voice trailed off and she sat, still and quiet – looking at Wanda but really staring past her as she got lost in thought.
After a moment, Wanda waved a hand in front of Morgan's face, causing her to shake her head and return to the present moment. "Sorry," Morgan mumbled. She slid off the stool and straightened out her t-shirt. Flipping her long brown hair over her shoulders, she looked back to Wanda. "We may not be able to bring my dad back. But I will try to bring Vision back for you."
"Ohhhh," Wanda cooed. She stood up straight, stretching slightly. Wanda searched for the words to explain how impossible the task was. She knew, because she had already spent the last three years and some months trying the very same thing herself. She had already spent far too much time hoping beyond hope, and being angry, traveling and seeking solitude. And she had exhausted her powers, following whatever avenue she could think of – no matter how unsavory or seemingly irrelevant or impossible – in an attempt to restore even just a fraction of Vision.
All of it was to no avail and eventually Wanda came back to the Avengers. Back to her friends who were waiting with open arms and offering her a place, attempting to fill an immensely unfillable void. "Thank you, Morgan, but it is not possible," she whispered.
Morgan was not one for giving up easily, though.
"Oh, but Auntie," Morgan replied, almost sound patronizing, "that's the thing. Anything is possible. And if it is, I'm the one who can do it." She beamed at Wanda.
Although Wanda didn't want to allow herself to hope, when she saw the proud smile on Morgan's face, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of infectious optimism. And, in reality, Wanda couldn't deny that if anyone was capable of finding a way to do what no one else could do, it was probably Morgan H. Stark. "All right then," the woman conceded. "You use that brilliant little mind for whatever you want. And if you can do it, it will be a happy surprise."
If possible, Morgan's smile grew even wider. She hoisted her backpack over her shoulders and gave Wanda a quick hug before turning and head toward the door. After punching the exit button on the wall, the doors parted and Morgan skipped into the hallway.
She looked back to make sure Wanda was following her. Stopping at the corner, Morgan called back, "Well, I better get this stuff," Morgan bumped her backpack for emphasis, "back to my secret lab."
"I thought the Stark Wing was your secret lab?" Wanda asked as she caught up to the girl, thumbing behind them.
Morgan rolled her eyes. "Noooooo, that's my workshop."
As they walked, Wanda asked, "Oh. So, then, where's your secret lab?"
They approached a fork in the hallway and the little girl came to a full stop, giving Wanda a side-eye glance. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret."
"Right," Wanda said, slapping herself in the forehead with her palm. Morgan giggled and then they turned to the left, heading toward the main lobby of the compound.
*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*
Upon returning to the main entryway of the Avengers compound, Wanda and Morgan were greeted by a group of their cohorts. Bucky, Sam, Pepper, and Bruce were to be expected since they, like Wanda and Rhodey, had made the compound their permanent home. With them was Clint Barton and Peter Parker, both of whom must have recently arrived.
"Spidey!" Morgan cheered, racing forward and jumping into Peter's arms, which probably would have knocked him off-balance had it not been for his abilities. He knelt down so he was eye-level with Morgan and gave her a proper hug.
"Hey, Wanda," Clint said as she closed the distance between herself and the group. "Didn't realize you'd started the babysitter's club since you returned. Maybe I'll have to bring my rugrats by more often!"
She gave him a sly smile and glanced over to Pepper and Sam. "I thought we agreed, his invitation was to be 'lost in the mail' this year?"
"Hey!" Clint jeered as he nudged the Witch in the side playfully.
In return, Wanda poked him in the ribs. For extra measure, she sent a surge of red energy through her fingertips, shocking the man. He jumped and let out a high-pitched squeak, sending a ripple of chuckles through the group. "Damn, that hurt!" Clint said, rubbing his side and glaring at Wanda.
Bucky raised an eyebrow. "I didn't see anything," he said, winking at Wanda.
"Of course, take her side!" Hawkeye groaned, rubbing his side.
Bruce laughed as he removed his glasses to wipe them off. He flexed his right hand awkwardly and let out a small hiss of discomfort. A couple years earlier, he had decided to return to his 'normal' state, rather than remaining in his partial transition phase of "Smart-Hulk." The damage that had been done by the makeshift Infinity gauntlet to his Hulked-out arm had been, for the most part, minimal. But once he went back to being "just-Bruce," the injury became far more debilitating. Bruce had undergone physical therapy and countless state-of-the-art reparative techniques, courtesy of Wakandan, Stark, and Pym technologies. But he was still left with a badly damaged arm that served as a constant reminder of all they had been through. From the top of Bruce's hand and edge of his wrist to just below his shoulder, remnants of the old but still too fresh injury encircled his arm with jagged scars. The skin around the scars was a tapestry of varying degrees of scar-tissue, with some patches softer and pinker than others. In some places, where it had been grafted to repair burns, the skin didn't quite match at all.
Bruce rubbed his arm, which Wanda noticed had become something like a nervous tic for him, before lacing his hands together behind his back.
Sam cleared his throat slightly, calling Wanda's attention to him. The leader of their group was dressed the part, wearing the stars-and-stripes outfit that Pepper had insisted be fitted for him. It was his "casual" version of the outfit, looking more like work-out clothes, compared to the armored version that he wore on heroic endeavors. The shield their old friend had bestowed upon him was strapped to his back, though, if for no other reason than solidarity.
"What's up?" Wanda asked, sensing that running into the gang was no chance meeting. Peter joined them, toting Morgan on his shoulders.
Sam sighed before launching into an explanation. "I've had some of the team on a sort of surveillance detail, keeping an eye on various video feeds, news reports, et cetera, watching for anything out of the ordinary."
Suddenly, Rocket forced his way forward, making Wanda jump back slightly. "Hi," she said, putting her hand over her chest. "I didn't see you."
The raccoon's whiskers twitched slightly as he nodded in acknowledgement of the Sokovian. "Sam here said to be on guard for psycho vigilante, Avenger-wannabes."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure I didn't use those exact words. . ."
"I'm paraphrasin'," Rocket told him, waving a paw dismissively.
"Anyway," Sam said sternly, rolling his eyes. "Rocket said they picked up something and he wants to show us. We're heading to one of the control rooms now, if you wanna check it out with us?"
"Sure," Wanda nodded. She looked up at Morgan, high above everyone on Peter's shoulders. "You'll be all right if I go, milaya?"
Peter answered for her: "Sure, go, do. I'll take care of this munchkin." He bounced her slightly, sending laughter rolling through her.
"Yeah, I'll stay with Spidey," Morgan managed to say through her laughter.
"You'll do as Peter says, right?" Pepper interjected.
"Yes, Mom!" Morgan moaned, feigning annoyance. She then clacked her heels against Peter's chest. "Charge!" she ordered. Playing along, Peter let out a huff and a snort like a horse, before 'galloping' away down the hall.
Wanda laughed and shook her head, watching them, before turning to follow the rest of the group to the control room a few doors down in the other direction.
"This video was in an alleyway in Chinatown about two nights ago," Rocket was explaining when Wanda walked in the room. Their furry teammate was standing on the office chair and, with a few keystrokes, pulled up a video file.
Bruce reached for the computer's mouse, only to have his hand slapped away by Rocket. He shook his head at the raccoon, then looked to Sam, furrowing his brows slightly. "This is footage from CCTV?"
"We're tapped into various systems and mainframes, yes," Sam answered diplomatically.
"Just watch," Rocket said with a small growl as he pressed the play button.
On the small screen, they saw an empty alleyway. Soon, a teenage boy and girl ran into the frame. The boy pushed the girl against the wall and kissed her. As the teens were busy making out, the screen showed that they were slowly being surrounded by four men, who were all armed. Likely some kind of gang. And it was only after it was too late that the teenagers became aware of their company. The boy on the screen spun around, standing in front of the girl as a human barricade.
Suddenly, there was a flash of light from the edge of the screen, dropping one of the criminals to the ground. Another flash clearly showed one of the armed men getting hit by the ray of light before dropping to the alley floor. The two remaining criminals raised their weapons – one with a knife and the other a handgun – and spun away from their original targets. Wanda let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding when she saw the kids take off running, disappearing from the scene unscathed. The criminals still standing in the alleyway looked around, searching for their assailant. Right on cue, a figure flew into the frame, crashing into one man, knocking the gun from his hands, and sending the one with the knife stumbling backwards. With a few more quick flashes, both men were dropped and the figure turned briefly toward the camera before shooting in the air and away. Then, the footage crackled out into nothing but static.
"Roll that back a few seconds, to just before the footage dies out," Pepper ordered. Wanda knew that Pepper wanted to go back to when the person looked toward the camera. Rocket must have understood, too, because he silently obeyed, rewinding the video and pausing it at the moment just before the figure flew away.
"Is that. . ." Clint muttered, leaning toward the screen with his as his voice trailed off. He quickly stood up straight, surprise evident on his face. "That's an Iron-Man suit."
Pepper shook her head adamantly in response, biting her lip as she did. "No, there's no Iron-Man suit that looks like that."
Clint looked at the screen again, squinting his eyes trying to get a good look. "How can you tell? The image is so grainy—"
"I just know, okay?" Pepper exclaimed. "I am fully aware of every single suit he made and that is not one of them. Besides, he had a unique design approach. This," she nodded toward the screen, "lacks his personal touch, his flair." Her voice was heavy with frustration, among other emotions.
Wanda couldn't help but notice how Pepper had avoided using Tony's name. Maybe that made it easier for her – distancing herself. For Wanda, it was the opposite. She had to think about her childhood with Pietro, had to say Vision's name, had to talk about Tony in great detail with Morgan, had to remember the exact cadence of Natasha's voice when she laughed at a stupid joke. It felt necessary to talk about them and say their names, keeping the memories vivid and upfront rather than vague and shoved to a dark corner. Somehow it made them feel closer – like they weren't really gone, but maybe they were just in the other room or on a long trip. Maybe Wanda was just in some perpetual state of denial about the permanency of the situation.
Bruce, who had finally managed to steal the mouse from Rocket, rolled the footage back another few seconds. "That," he says, pointing to the screen, "is a repulsor blast. It looks pretty legit, as far as being connected to arc reactor tech and all that jazz."
"It's not his," Pepper insisted.
"But it is arc reactor tech?" Bruce pressed.
Pepper narrowed her eyes at him, obviously biting back her immediate reaction. "It's not his," she repeated.
"Okay," Sam said, in that cool and collected way he has, trying to reign the situation back in. "The question stands: What do we do about this?"
Bucky was the one to pipe up. "Same thing we've been doing. Either we ask him to stop. . . or we stop him."
Sam nodded firmly. "FRIDAY?" he called out.
"Yes, sir?" The AI replied overhead.
"Monitor all video reports for anything similar to this, and try to track the location of the subject. Make it a top priority."
"Certainly. I will notify the Team as soon as a location is triangulated."
Sam turned to the group and sighed. "Everybody's gonna keep trickling in. Once we get this location, we'll get a team together to go after this guy."
"But everything's still on track? This whole reunion thing?" Bucky asked, somewhat incredulously.
"Yes," Pepper answered definitively. Then, without another word, she turned and walked out of the control room, with her heels clacking to punctuate her exit.
Sam rubbed his hands together and said, "Guess we're all, uh, dismissed. I'll call you guys in if we need anything."
With that, Rocket dropped down into the chair, letting it spin lightly before he turned it back to face the computers and start clicking through in an absent-minded manner. Bruce sighed, ran his hands through his hair, and then walked out, with Clint, Sam, and Bucky close behind.
Wanda turned awkwardly, balancing on the heel of her boot, trying to decide where to go. She had just lifted her foot to take a step when she heard the chair squeak and Rocket clear his throat. Still balancing on her heel, Wanda rotated slightly so she could face the creature.
"Uh, your, uh. . ." he wrinkled his nose, twitching his whiskers.
"Yes?" Wanda said, drawing the word out as she settled into a balanced position and folded her arms across her chest.
"Your, um, powers?" Rocket said, sounding unsure.
Wanda narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "What about them?"
"Well, it's kind of like magic, right?" he asked, staring at the woman's feet.
"I guess?" Wanda answered, not really having thought too much about defining or categorizing her abilities.
Rocket nodded slowly as his beady eyes darted around the room. The corner of his lip curled up slightly. Finally, he made eye contact with Wanda. "D'ya think I could have some?"
Wanda let out a laugh. "What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow when she realized he was serious.
In response, Rocket did a facepalm, looking frustrated about having to explain his request. "I have a lot of tech – very advanced, impressive, space tech – and I can't always rely on being able to keep them charged or fueled up."
"Oh-kay?" Wanda waved a hand in the air, encouraging him to continue.
"Ugh, okay, so," Rocket groaned as he slipped out of the chair and walked up to Wanda. "I've found some, let's call them 'alternative' power sources. The best is magic."
He stared up at Wanda, expectantly. She sighed and crouched down so they were eye-level. "What is it you're wanting, Rocket?"
Rocket held up a finger, indicating for Wanda to wait a minute. Then he jumped back up on the chair, rifling through a drawer in the desk. He turned back with a capsule-shaped device in his paws. Wanda took a few steps forward, inspecting the object as Rocket held it out to her.
"Think of this like a battery," Rocket told her. "I've, uh, 'collected' tons o' these. They store energy." He pushed the capsule into Wanda's hands. "If you could just channel some energy into one or two of these bad boys, that'd be great."
Wanda held the capsule at arm's length, looking from Rocket to the device and back again. "You're serious?"
"It would really help me out. Ya know, just so I have various power sources on hand in case of emergency." He stared at the Witch. "I'm not, like, singling you out. I plan on asking the Doc, too."
"Dr. Strange?" Wanda asked, to clarify.
"D'you know any other doctors with magical powers?" Rocket told her derisively. "Look, all you have to do is open the capsule and put your hand on the open end. It'll absorb excess energy. Bada-bing, bim-bam-boom, we're good."
Wanda stared at him. When he didn't break the gaze or the silence, the woman slowly pulled the device closer to get a better look. It appeared to be harmless enough. And she had, over the years, come to trust Rocket. He may be foul-mouthed and abrasive, but there was no questioning his loyalty. And his motives were rarely as self-serving as he led people to believe they were.
After a minute, Rocket made a small whining sound. "Pleeeeaaaaasssssse?"
With a sigh, Wanda unscrewed the lid of the capsule. Gingerly, she placed her palm over the open space. Just as Rocket promised, red streams of energy started flowing into the tube. It took only a few seconds for it to fill. She lifted her hand and quickly replaced the cap. As she handed it back to Rocket, he was handing her another empty one. "Oh, come on!" But she grabbed the capsule anyway. "You are going to owe me for this."
"Yeah, yeah," Rocket replied, waving his paw dismissively. But a smile spread across his face and Wanda couldn't help but smile back as she filled another capsule.
*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*
Peter Parker 'galloped' his way through the hallways of the Avengers compound, with Morgan on his shoulders. Finally, he came to a halt, panting. "Okay," he said as he crouched down. "This ride is over. Everyone off. Come again!"
Morgan slid off Peter's back, readjusting her backpack as she stood. Peter straightened up, stretching and rolling his shoulders, relaxing them after being relieved of the weight of an eight-year-old and a suspiciously heavy backpack. He turned to look at the girl and gave her a big smile. "Shall we continue?" he asked, holding out his hand. Morgan grabbed it and they continued walking down the hall.
"Pete?" Morgan asked after a moment. "Why, again, are there, like, a million people coming here?"
"Because we're having our reunion this week. We do it every year – you know that, Kid." Peter smiled, somewhat to himself, as he spoke the nickname he'd given the girl. In honor of her father – it was one of the few things he could do.
"The Avengers Reunion." Morgan said softly. She nodded absentmindedly as they walked. "Gathering of the Avengers," she continued, a bit louder and with a hint of playful grandiosity to her voice.
Peter chuckled. "We don't have an official name for it."
"We should," Morgan decided.
Suddenly, Peter felt the hair on the back of his neck raise. He came to a dead stop in the middle of the hallway. Morgan, not expecting the sudden halt, took a few paces more and then was jerked back, steadied by Peter pulling her tight against his body. He glanced around the hallway anxiously, and then his attention was pulled to the room they were standing outside of, where the door was slightly ajar.
"What?" Morgan asked softly. Peter held a finger to his mouth in a silent 'shh' and released Morgan's hand. He padded quietly toward the door, motioning for Morgan to stay put.
Pushing the door open, Peter peeked inside. It was an ordinary conference room, one of many within the compound. Nothing spectacular, or even odd or questionable, about it. And it appeared empty. Yet, Peter couldn't shake the feeling of another. . . Presence. He reached up to his temple, only to find that he had forgotten his EDITH headset. So he had no backup and was reliant on his sixth sense.
Morgan pushed up against Peter, poking her head in the doorway to look around with him. "Spidey senses?" she whispered.
"Shh," he said aloud this time, but he still nodded to confirm her question.
They both stood still and silent, awkwardly staring in the doorway of the seemingly empty room. After thirty seconds, Pete was about to give up, when suddenly someone shoved him from behind. He stumbled forward into the room with a yelp, barely catching himself on one of the executive chairs. Morgan let out a little squeal, rushing forward into the room to stand beside Peter.
"BOO!" A familiar voice hollered from behind Peter as he was still catching his breath, and footing. He spun around to face the intruder.
"Cassie Lang!" Peter exclaimed, mustering the harshest glare he could manage. Which, honestly, wasn't much because upon looking at her, his anger deflated almost instantaneously.
"Gotcha," Cassie chirped, placing her hands on her hips and looking way too proud of herself.
"That was RUDE!" Morgan accused, stomping her foot and matching Cassie's hands-on-hips stance.
"Oh, c'mon. That was funny and you know it."
"The jury's out," Peter retorted. To which Cassie merely rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall. She put a foot up on the wall behind her and crossed her arms. With her faded jeans, complete with holes and patches, heather-gray tank top underneath a faux leather jacket, and high ponytail, she looked all the part of a 50s greaser. Peter gave her a teasing smirk. "Did you just finish rehearsals for The Outsiders?"
Another eye-roll. But a smile pulled at the corner of Cassie's mouth. "Stay gold, Pony-boy," she told him in a soft voice.
"Peter sensed you, so you weren't really that sneaky," Morgan explained, still sounding somewhat offended.
That statement brought Peter's senses back into focus, which had momentarily been distracted by Cassie's appearance. He cursed himself again for forgetting EDITH as he realized the odd sensation was still there. Cassie must have noticed the look on his face because she frowned and asked, "What's wrong, Petey?"
"It wasn't you," Peter replied, dropping his voice to a whisper. "There's something, or someone, else." His eyes darted around the room, but he saw nothing.
Then, he felt the lightest of breezes, caused by movement, from the far right side of the space – where there was a second door into, and out of, the room. Instinctively, he flexed his hand and shot a spider-web at that door, slamming it shut. He flicked his hand a few inches back and shot again, effectively hitting a target.
"Bloody hell—" a voice, this time unfamiliar and masculine, groaned.
"Show yourself," Peter ordered. He kept his hand in web-slinging position, just in case, and purposely positioned himself so Morgan was behind him. Cassie left her relaxed position by the wall and sidled up next to Peter, also protectively covering the little girl, and took on a combat-ready stance.
Across the room, Peter's web still hung in a ball in mid-air. There was a flash of gold and green, and a figure appeared. At the sight of the tall, dark-haired man, wearing green and black leather armor and robes, Peter felt a twinge of recognition. It spread quickly and he dropped his hands to his sides, cocking his head at an angle, mostly out of shock and confusion than anything else.
". . . Mr. Loki?"
