Mobius's portal opened into a lush, verdant world, full of overgrown vines and trees in full bloom. Birdsong burst from the forest around them with unceasing beauty, as if their lives would end if they stopped. The sun shone just as brightly and vividly as it did in Stephen's world. The smell of dead, wet leaves hung in the air, the bouquet of fresh rain and new things growing.
As he got his bearings, Stephen noticed they had landed on broken asphalt, shredded by years of plant life poking through the cracks. It was definitely Earth, a version of it. Off to the side, the remains of telephone poles still hung limply suspended by old wires, becoming nothing more than a makeshift vine trellis. It was a little odd for them to land in such a deserted place, almost apocalyptic, really.
Mobius took a deep breath. "Ah, I never get tired of all this fresh air."
"Much nicer than exhaust fumes and old piss. I forgot how bad New York smells."
"The TVA had kind of a stink to it, too. Like old carpet." Mobius looked around him a bit, then walked the opposite way down the broken pavement. "The tempad dropped us off a little farther than I'd like. This way," he told Stephen, and the doctor followed.
As they walked, it became apparent that the road wasn't getting any better. There were no signs of civilization anywhere, only the natural world that had taken over. They walked past a gas station that trees and bushes had long since claimed. An apple tree sprouted out of the parking lot, and a small herd of deer feasted on the new fruit on it, giving both of them a glance before bounding away.
Stephen couldn't help but feel more and more uneasy. It didn't look like they were going to come upon anyone else at all. There were certainly no cars on this road, not even a glimpse of humanity.
"What happened here, Mobius?" he asked.
"We're not really sure," he said, completely nonchalant. He picked a dogwood flower off of a tree as they walked, and twirled it around in his fingers. "Hard to tell. We had to pick a place to live that supported human life, but was deserted. Just in case," he added, flicking the flower away on the ground.
"In case … ?"
"In case someone decided to come looking for us." His tone was more serious now. "I thought I understood how the multiverse and the timeline worked, inside and out, but now I'm not so sure. There could be more than one TVA. There could be things or people out there that want us dead. It's scary not knowing. All we can do is live our lives in peace and try not to worry about it."
Stephen wished he had the luxury of not worrying about those things, but his role in the universe seemed to be the exact opposite.
A mile or two further down the road, the forest abruptly gave way to a distinctly American suburb that had been utterly decimated; broken windows, sagging roofs, mini forests in the front yards, cars that were no more than rust buckets. As damaged as it was, this place was bustling with human life. People were everywhere, stoking fires, planting, cooking, tending scraggly looking chickens, washing clothes. It reminded him of a historical reenactment tourist trap he went to on a field trip as a kid, except it was reenacting the fall of civilization instead of the colonial era. Notably, there were no children, but he did see one very pretty, very pregnant woman. Everyone else looked a little skinny, a little tired and dirty, but they chatted happily as they did their chores.
A young woman looked up from tending her front yard garden as they approached, then jumped up with a smile when she recognized Mobius. She waved to him, and he waved back. As she approached, she held out her arms for a hug.
"C-twen- I mean, Chelsea!" said Mobius as they embraced. "Sorry. Old habits."
Chelsea looked up at Stephen, her eyes gleaming with hope. "Is this him? Is this the doctor that's going to help Prince-"
"Yeah!" Mobius interrupted, suspiciously glancing at Dr. Strange with a too-wide smile. "He is."
"The guy's a prince?" asked Stephen.
"Yeah, well, uh-" Mobius stammered. "He was a prince before this, and I suppose now he's the prince of … " he looked to Chelsea, as if asking for help.
"Tvania," she answered. "We named ourselves Tvania. While you were gone. We took a vote."
Mobius nodded. "Yeah. I like that. Tvania. Sounds exotic."
"Where is he?" Stephen was uneasy again. Mobius was hiding something. His first instinct had been right. On the other hand, the place didn't feel like a trap. Looks were deceiving, though. He'd fallen for the Scarlet Witch's idyllic little farm fantasy without much convincing and wasn't about to let that happen again.
Mobius led him to the biggest house in the neighborhood, one that was surely an overpriced McMansion when it was brand new. It had a useless turret on the side, a ridiculous balcony on the second story that was too small for anything, too many windows, at least three stories, and different kinds of siding in a mish-mash of architectural styles. The degradation of time actually helped improve its style, somewhat. The vines crawling up the side gave it an air of gravity and importance, like a historical landmark instead of a mildew trap full of rotting plaster. If the guy was royalty, this place made perfect sense. It was the closest thing to a castle you could find in an American suburb.
The windows did let in tons of natural light, which was nice, as the house probably hadn't had electricity in who knew how long. The wood floors creaked underfoot as they walked into the bright foyer and into the living room. The shades there were pulled tight against broken windows, a warm breeze blowing through on occasion.
Sitting on a dank couch in the dark was a woman. She was thin with high, proud cheekbones, older than Chelsea but not as old as Stephen. Her shoulder length hair looked as if she'd dyed it blonde at one point but gave up, letting the roots grow her natural black color. She didn't seem as happy to see Mobius as Chelsea had been. Her eyes were tired, but a piercing emerald green, like she'd lived a thousand lifetimes and had seen too much. Those eyes bothered him, but he had no idea why.
"Sylvie," said Mobius gently. She got up then and hugged him, her expression never changing. The glance she gave Stephen felt accusatory somehow, like a dagger.
"You're going to help him, aren't you?" Sylvie's question didn't seem like a plea, but a command.
Stephen let out a breath. He couldn't read anyone's expression or intentions anymore. There was no more to break down. Either this was real, or it wasn't, and he was about to find out.
"Yes."
They led him up to the second floor, the stairs creaking ominously with his weight, like they could snap in half at any moment.
"Watch the hole," said Mobius quietly, pointing to a huge hole in the floor that had been haphazardly covered with a piece of wood. Stephen thought the walls and floors were probably riddled with termites by now, though it seemed sturdy-ish to the naked eye.
They all went into the master bedroom, as dark as a hellish cave, humid and stale, tinged with the putrid scent of body odor. The faint rattle of labored breathing whispered through the air. He could just make out the outline of a bed, and a person-shaped lump on top of it, trembling uncontrollably every few seconds, as if they were being shocked over and over.
"Let's get some light in here," he told them. Mobius only shuffled his feet, looking to Sylvie, who glared back with her piercing eyes.
Finally, Mobius obeyed, going to the sliding glass door to pull back the curtain.
"Jesus Christ," muttered Stephen. He didn't say his next thought out loud, for Mobius and Sylvie's sake, but the guy looked like he was on his death bed already.
The sunlight revealed a man so thin and emaciated, he looked like he'd just come out of a concentration camp. A scraggly black beard covered his chin and face, his hair long, disgusting, and unkempt. His mouth was wide open, trying to scream or gasping for breath, Stephen wasn't sure. The poor man stared at the ceiling, unblinking, unseeing, horrified. His body trembled so violently it looked painful.
Stephen's stomach churned. This could be what the people that lived here before had died of. Mobius didn't say anyone else had come down with this … disease, though, whatever it was. Or even worse, much worse, he could be tormented by Souls of the Damned. Stephen looked a lot like the guy did now as those evil beings had tried to torture his body and soul into submission.
Dr. Strange neared the head of the bed, wishing he'd brought some medical gloves and maybe an N95 face mask with him. He knelt down to examine his pupils for dilation, careful not to not make any sudden moves and let the Souls out into this world.
The man's eye rolled forward as Stephen lifted his eyelid. Green eyes. He put all of the prince's features together piece by piece; the shape of his face, his hair, his tall, thin stature. Loki was in such horrendous shape he almost hadn't recognized him, but now it was unquestionable.
"You lied to me, Mobius," said Stephen, standing slowly.
Mobius lifted his hands helplessly. "Because the moment I told your other variants that Loki needed help, they said no. They refused to even look at him."
"Answer me truthfully. Is this the same Loki who served Thanos and led the Chitauri in New York?"
"Yes," he replied defiantly. Sylvie stayed quiet, but looked like she might explode. "He's your Loki. I know exactly who he is. I know exactly what he's done. I know better than you do. And I know you have it in you to help him. You are a healer, and he's sick."
"He's supposed to be dead. And you know, Charles Manson was sick, too, but if Sharon Tate had been my sister, or my cousin or something, I wouldn't have touched him with a ten foot pole."
Sylvie left the room then, the echo of her boots stomping down the stairs and into the living room.
"How can all of you Dr. Stranges be so god damned callous?" mumbled Mobius with disgust.
Stephen tried not to show any emotion at that comment. He had to stand his ground here. Anything Loki was involved in could be a trap, even if he really did look horrendous. Loki was a master of disguise, an excellent liar, and a violent criminal. He had no idea if Mobius was the same kind of person or not. Putting himself in unnecessary danger put his whole universe in danger.
"I'm callous? Loki was a snake who would stab his own family in the back for power," he told Mobius. "The best thing he ever did for my timeline, was to die."
That was a step too far, but Stephen couldn't take it back now. Mobius looked like he wanted to spit in Stephen's face.
"Christ. Everything I told you was true. He's a leader to us. A hero."
Stephen scoffed. "He wanted a loyal army, and he got one. This reeks of a trap."
"And he's my friend. And Sylvie's husband."
Stephen nearly laughed. "He got married? My god, that poor woman."
"Listen to me, Strange!" Mobius exploded, poking a finger into Stephen's chest. He didn't expect Mobius to play the bad cop. "If Loki dies, I want you to know that this is on you. I want you to live with that forever."
"I have to live with a lot of things," said Stephen. "I had to fight a good woman who went crazy just because she wanted her children back. Other versions of me have had to do much, much worse. I told you, I wouldn't be who I am if I took these kinds of risks."
Mobius shook his head and shrugged helplessly, all the fight going out of him. Without a word, he left Stephen and Loki alone in the room, alone with that haunting death rattle.
Stephen took one last cautious look at Loki. His trembling hadn't ceased, his eyes were still open. Stephen wondered if he could hear anything they'd said.
"If it had been anyone but you," he told Loki, "and if I was anyone but me ... " he trailed off. It made no difference if he'd heard.