Disclaimer: I own nothing. Least of all this.

5) WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS

Sakaar was just as bad as he remembered.

Actually, scratch that. It was worse. There was absolutely no vision of the future that could ever have prepared him for the smell.

The patrolling scavengers were easy enough to avoid; all they were looking for in the first place were fighters and food. Most certainly not invisible Asgardian princes in Jotun ones, for that matter.

He grit his teeth and let the emotions that particular thought evoked wash over him, and then fade away. There was plenty of time to deal with all that later. Much later.

The Valkyrie (funny, even now he didn't know her real name) was fairly easy to find; all he had to do was start at the seediest pub on the planet and work his way up in establishment quality. He found her lounging at the bar in the fourth-worst one around.

It must've been early by her standards (or Sakaar's in general); she appeared to still be relatively sober. Well, for the moment. He intended to remedy that particular detail as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, his plan involved doing much the same to himself.

With a few whispered words of seidr, he felt his magic draw back from the surrounding world in preparation for what was to come. As it did so, his invisibility faded away, leaving him once more noticeable to the world. Deep breath in; deep breath out. And in he went.

He slid onto the stool beside his quarry and slammed a wad of Altarian dollars down on the bar. "Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters. Keep them coming until this runs out."

That certainly got the Valkyrie's attention; Gargle Blasters were easily one of the top ten hardest drinks in the...well, the galaxy. And he knew for a fact he looked enormously like a poffed-up pansy who was severely overestimating his ability to hold his liquor.

"Bit of a strong drink for a stiff like you, innit?" drawled Valkyrie. "Sure you won't snap under the stress?"

"Oh, this is nothing." he replied, reaching for the first glass.

"You want somethingreally strong…" The first shot slid down his throat with a familiar burn. "Try dissolving an Ahamkara egg in Corellian Ale. Dragon's Spine, that's what they call it. But alas, Ahamkara are all but extinct."

He downed the second glass. "So I have to settle."

And here's where the second part of his plan came in. "Not that someone like you would be able to handle a drink like that in the first place."

Three, two, one…

"Ex-cuse me?!"

"Oh don't take it personally. I've only ever found one other fellow who didn't go mad on the very first sip; an Aesir. And even he was completely out of it by the third. I'm fairly certain there's no way you could ever hope to outdrink one of those; let alone me."

The Valkyrie's eyes narrowed with the challenge. "Bet."

He furrowed his brow in pretended confusion. "...Bet what?"

"I bet I can drink you under the table any day of the week, dandy."

He scoffed. "Keep telling yourself that, dear."

"If you win, you get my ship."

...Well, that wasn't in the plan. But he was willing to roll with it. "And if I lose?"

"You pay my tab."

She was lying, of course. If he lost, he had no doubt he'd wake up in the Grandmaster's cage with the worst hangover of his life. Good thing he planned on winning. "...You're on. Bartender! Rounds for the lady as well."

Judge Rennslayer was, to put it mildly, straight up not having a good day.

Four Minutemen squads down in a matter of days; and all tied to the shift in the future that one man had managed to cause. Of course, that one man just so happened to fall under the jurisdiction of the Living Tribunal, as well as the protection of the Sorcerer Supreme, so retconning him had been out of the question. At least for the time being.

They thought they'd been prepared for any other potential Nexus events the multiverse-jumper might have caused; they hadn't realized that he might cause them just by existing.

And now Loki Odinson was on Sakaar, Thor Odinson was on Jotunheim, and the entire timeline was being sped up by a factor of years.

Thank the Timekeepers, Loki had at least been off-world at the time of their incursion into the Vault; otherwise he would most assuredly have been able to convince Thor to look elsewhere for the culprits. Such as the Kree, the Skrull, or the Nova Corps. Getting Asgard involved in any of those areas of the timeline would've been disastrous. But Thor had gone for the obvious answer, so at least that was playing out much as it should. And even though Loki wasn't accompanying him, he already knew the truth of his heritage thanks to Freyja's Loom. One more thing that lined up fairly well with the course of events.

Erik Selving wasn't in Puente Aguento; that was something they should be able to fix without causing any more ripples in the pond. Stane was dead, and Fury was talking to Stark; good. A bit off from what it should be, but she'd take what she could get. They'd have time for fine-tuning once the multiverse-jumper was dealt with.

For now, there were bigger things to worry about. Strucker, Stern, Rumlow, Pierce, Zola, Sitwell, Barton, Hill, Romanov. All nowhere where they were supposed to be. Should the TVA let Hydra fall without Steve Rogers around to witness it?

If things kept on as they were, they might not have a choice.

Barton had just reached forty-seven minutes and twenty-six seconds on his count when Stark finally let them in.

"Nice to see at least some members of SHIELD know how to wait." snarked the billionaire as he led them into his house. "Can't imagine my old man would be too happy about his agency being known for acting like the organization he helped destroy."

Fury glared. "Pestering your personal assistant for an appointment hardly counts as behaving like a Nazi, Mr. Stark. And just how did you become aware of your father's involvement in SHIELD, may I ask?"

"You're changing the subject; and no, you can't. Pestering? More like breaking into my place to try and snoop. Not a big fan of Agent Coulson's methods. Twizzler?"

Fury walked right past the offered treat. Stark just shrugged, and pointed it in Barton's direction. "How bout you, Nameless Minion #4?"

"...Why not."

Hmm. Strawberry.

"So, not that I'm not thrilled to see you gentlemen here, I am curious as to how I got promoted from dealing with an Agent to the actual Director. Because it honestly seemed like you forgot about me after the other night. I was hurt, I tell you; truly and deeply hurt."

"Would you like a few stitches for that, Stark?" deadpanned Fury. "Cause I can arrange for it."

"Ooo, feisty! It's like you're a mashup of Neo and Morpheus, with a little bit of pirate thrown in. I like it. But once again, changing the subject. What the hell does SHIELD want with me now?"

Fury straightened his back, and clasped his hands together behind him. "Mr. Stark; while Agent Coulson may not be your most favorite of people, I would like to remind you that he saw fit to share the note recovered from Stane's body when every regulation said not to. Because such an action speaks to a certain level of trust, I am electing to trust you now. We believe Overwatch is responsible for at least eleven counts of murder that all took place yesterday at the Four Seasons Hotel in D.C."

Stark blinked. And then blinked again. And then shoveled a handful of Twizzlers into his mouth. "Wow. Talk about making a splash. Except in this case the splash is more like an arterial spray. Why tell me?"

"Because I would very much like to know if you have had any contact with Overwatch since Stane's death."

"Hmm." Stark chewed, and then swallowed. "You know what? I'm feeling generous, So I'll say...maybe."

"Stark." Fury growled.

"Fine. Be that way. He returned my ARC reactor and Stane's suit. And no, before you ask, you're not getting either."

Fury just looked at him. "Wouldn't dream of it. You said he; can you describe him? Or better yet, have you got any security footage?"

"Sure, but none I feel like sharing. Wouldn't do you much good anyway; dude came in wearing the suit, and I killed the security out of respect when he left."

Barton felt his eyebrows hit his hairline. "Respect? Guy must've done something plenty big for you to feel that way bout him."

Stark did a double-take in his direction. "...I'm sorry, who're you again?"

"Nameless Minion #4, I think."

"Ah. And I'd say giving back some of the most powerful technology on the planet free of charge is pretty big; wouldn't you?"

"Yeah; guess I would."

Stark held out another Twizzler. "Think we'll get along just fine, Minion."

"Thanks...I think."

Fury was undoubtedly steaming around the collar by now. Barton could tell from his tone alone; could've frozen volcanoes with that voice. "To get back on topic...you said he wasn't wearing the suit when he left."

"When who left?"

The eyepatch twitched. "The Overwatch agent."

"Oh right."

An awkward silence ensued.

"...Well?"

"Well what?"

"Can you describe him?" Fury hissed.

"Oh, sure. Medium height. Poncho. Stetson. Impressive hair. Beard. Big iron on his hip."

"His face, Stark."

"...I'd have to go with Matt Mercer."

Fury whirled. "Do we have a Matt Mercer on record, Barton?"

"No sir. But I think the Hollywood Hall of Fame might."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"He's an actor, sir. And a fairly good one."

Stark snapped his fingers. "Preach it Minion. That's what your agent looked like, Tall Dark and Brooding."

"...I see. In that case, Mr. Stark, we'll be on our way. Thank you for your time."

"I would say you're welcome, but so far I'm only feeling that way towards my fellow Twizzler."

"Please do not refer to Agent Barton as that ever again in my hearing."

"Sure thing, Captain Killjoy. JARVIS, see the men out, would you?"

Rhodey wiped his hands as Tony walked back into the lab. "How'd it go?"

Tony flopped himself into a chair and started typing like mad. "Got rid of 'em fairly quick; don't think they'll be back. The best wild goose chases are the ones where the culprit is actually a wild goose, and it's just a matter of finding the needle in the haystack."

"Or a goose in the gaggle."

"Exactly. How we looking?"

"Well, you ex-best friend clearly knew at least half of what he was doing; that being said, I would never have cleared this thing for actual flight. No ice protection, for one."

"Yeah, got something we can work on for that. I'm more worried about whether or not we can beef it enough to use it as a test platform."

"Test platform? For what?"

"You name it. RTS systems, upgraded armor, recoil stress tests..."

Stark's eyes drifted over to a scale model set up in a corner of the room. "But I'm thinking we start with the power source first."

McCree switched off the engine. "We're here. Camp Lehigh."

Birthplace of SHIELD, and mausoleum of one of the few people who knew the Winter Soldier inside and out.

He swiveled to look at his partner. "Keep watch. Kill anyone who comes knocking. If there's an explosion, come drag me out of the rubble."

"Understood."

"Now hide the car. I'm going in."

The place was exactly as he remembered it; right down to the photos in the walls. Although, the secret elevator was perhaps a little clankier.

And of course, the phone plugged into Zola was new as well.

He cleared his throat. "I take it I just missed Pierce, then."

"I'm afraid so, my friend." The middle screen flared to life, revealing what was left of Zola. "He will be well on his way by zis time."

"On his way?" Not good. "Where?"

"As if I would tell you. You have cost him much, my friend. And now, he will demand repayment. Zere is a team already on ze way here."

"Nope."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"I said nope. There's no team. See, I know Pierce way better than you could ever hope to. And if I'm right, me coming here was the last thing he could never hope to cover up. He'll save his own skin over Hydra's any day of the week, and that includes sacrificing some of his biggest assets," he stressed the word, "to keep his cover. You probably called him the minute I got here; so tell me. Has a team actually been dispatched yet?"

"I can assure you…"

"Assure all you want, Doc. But you might wanna start looking for an incoming missile while you're at it. See, I came here alone. So even if I do get put down or captured, I still win. Cause your precious Winter Soldier's orders are now to see Hydra burned to the ground. And like a good soldier, he always follows orders. There's no outcome where Pierce survives this. There is, however, one where you do. And I don't think it's the one Pierce wants. Well? Found that missile yet?"

"...I have."

"Feel like getting revenge on Pierce?"

"...No. It is, perhaps, better zis way."

McCree sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that. Well, at least I can do this."

He yanked the phone from the socket. "Didn't really have much of a plan if Pierce wasn't here; nice of him to leave behind a way to track him. I'd say to tell Red Skull hello, but since you ain't got much of a soul left, I'll skip it."

"...Satisfy a dying man's curiosity. Who are you? Really?"

"Me?" McCree shrugged. "I'm just a simple man trying to make his way in the universe."

And then time twisted backwards.

It was on the eleventh Gargle Blaster that things started to go fuzzy.

He managed to make it to fifteen before Valkyrie realized.

"Your eyebrows."

Valkyrie frowned. "Wha about 'em?"

"They're just...not you. Needs color." He was slurring his words terribly, he knew.

Valkyrie snorted. "Wha, like green?"

"Blesh no. Like...white. R' red. R' both. Maybe."

"R'lly?" And now Valkyrie was starting to slosh about as well. "Caush I wash thinkin'; you need shum blue. Not, like, sky. Jush...blue."

"I'm alwaysh blue." Oops; hadn't meant to say that.

Fortunately, Valkyrie just cackled. "Drama queen."

She knocked back another shot, and licked her lips. It was extremely distracting. "Thash shixteen for me."

The crowd that had conglomerated sometime during the course of their competition (alliteration!) all began murmuring. For anyone to make it that many glasses without passing out was practically unheard of. And no one, no one, had ever made it to nineteen and lived.

Loki just raised a single eyebrow, picked up his next shot...and downed it.

The crowd lost it.

Valkyrie's hand was shaking as she reached for the next Blaster. The glass went up; it was almost to her mouth; it was tilting back…

And then Valkyrie's stool toppled over backwards, depositing its occupant thuddingly on the floor.

There was a moment of silence.

And then a tremendous cheer from those onlookers who'd betted on his success as his rival failed to rise. Right; time for part three.

He whispered the word that activated his pre-prepared seidr; trying to burn alcohol out of one's system while drunk was a terrible idea at the best of times. His stool scraped against the floor as he stood, his eyes scanning the room as he turned. All those that had lost money on Valkyrie would now be looking to turn a profit from her; and that was something he'd rather not have. And there appeared to be an awful lot of them.

With a flourish, a solid gleaming ingot appeared in his hand. "Now, gentlemen. Because I'm a rather sporting fellow, and would rather not have any hard feelings on any sides, I've decided to make things interesting. This ingot I'm holding in my hands is made of eighty-eight percent vibranium; obtained from the markets of Knowhere. Enough to either pay off any debts you might have...or supercharge a ship enough to make it off this rock. Your choice. But you see...there's only one. So…"

He turned slightly to set the bar down on...well, the bar. And then swept up Valkyrie's fallen form in a fireman's carry. All the eyes that had been fixed on her were now locked solidly on the tempting ingot. "It's all yours, bartender. Consider my friend's tab paid in full. Now, let's just hope you have enough muscle to hold onto your new-found wealth. Good luck."

The shooting started before he even made it out the door.

Such a shame; the ingot was nothing but a duplication. One that would fade in about an hour, leaving behind nothing but chaos in its wake. Very on-brand for him.

And oh how he'd missed it.

With a few more muttered words, Valkyrie's inebriation was replaced with sleep. Much easier to find the location of her ship jangling around in her brain without alcohol making things harder. Not that they'd be taking it anyway; he just figured she might want her Dragonfang on her when she woke up in Asgard.

Thor wouldn't know what hit him.