Luke's POV
"So, what's the next move?" I asked, watching a squad of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents surround Loki like wolves closing in on a cornered fox. The trickster god didn't even resist—just walked with that same smug expression, like he was the one escorting them.
"Prisoner of war treatment, I assume?" I added, crossing my arms.
He's enjoying the VIP suite downstairs, Fury replied, stepping up beside me. He had that familiar no-nonsense tone, but there was a glint in his eye—approval, maybe. "Try not to let it go to your head."
I tilted my head, cracking a dry grin. "Could've been better. I was aiming to not lose my sword and get body-slammed by a Norse god."
Fury actually smirked at that. Barely. "You're still breathing. That counts."
"Low bar, but I'll take it."
He clapped a firm hand on my shoulder. "Go regroup with the others. I need to have a little... talk with our guest."
"Try not to let him monologue you into a coma," I quipped, already turning to leave. "He's got a thing for dramatics and questionable metaphors."
...
On the live feed, Fury strolled over to the control panel, his steps deliberate, his tone taking on an edge sharper than steel. "In case it's unclear," he said, hovering a finger over a glowing red button, "you try toescape- you so much as scratch thatglass..."
He pressed it.
A sudden whoosh of air filled the room as the floor beneath Loki's cell opened wide, revealing nothing but thirty thousand feet of cold, unforgiving sky.
"Thirty thousand feet straight downin a steel trap." Fury continued, voice calm but undeniably lethal. "You get how thatworks??"
He tapped another key, and the floor sealed shut with a pneumatic clunk.
He gestured his hands to Loki. "Ant." Then to the keypad. "Boot."
Loki barely blinked. If anything, he looked... amused. He swept his gaze around his transparent prison, eyes gleaming with curiosity and a touch of mockery. "It's an impressive cage." he mused aloud, tilting his head. "Not built,I think, for me."
"Built for something a lot strongerthan you." Fury replied, deadpan.
I glanced at Bruce. He was a bit shaky, looking like he was one bad metaphor away from a stress-induced aneurysm. I leaned over and muttered, "That was tactless even by Fury's standards."
Bruce gave a half-hearted nod. "It's fine," he said under his breath, though his tone suggested the exact opposite.
On-screen, Loki's expression shifted. His eyes locked on the nearest security camera, and his voice dropped into that smug, velvety register he seemed to favor.
"Oh, I've heard," Loki purred, circling like a wolf savoring the scent of blood. "The beast who plays at being meek—the failed experiment clinging to his fragile humanity." His smile cut like a blade. "Tell me, what does it say of your cause that you recruit such... broken things to fight your battles?" A slow, predatory pause. "Though I suppose even shattered glass has its uses. My ranks could always use more... motivated souls."
I felt my knuckles pop as I clenched the edge of the table, the metal groaning slightly in protest.
Breathe, Luke. Just breathe. Don't feed the troll.
Natasha shot me a glance from across the table. Her look said: Stay calm. Bruce, meanwhile, didn't even flinch, though his foot was tapping now.
Fury didn't flinch. He stepped forward, his voice low, heavy with warning.
"You threaten my world with war," he said, voice as flat and cold as steel. "You steal a power you can't even control. You talk about peace and you kill 'cause it's fun. You forced me to drag a perfectly good barista back into this mess—"
I raised an eyebrow. "Wait, did he just—?"
"Yes," Natasha confirmed without looking up.
"ou have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did." Fury finished, his eyes locked on the god behind the glass.
Loki just smirked.
And suddenly, I got the feeling this whole thing was still going exactly the way he wanted it to.
Loki's smirk didn't waver. If anything, it deepened.
"Ooh. It burns you to come so close." he said, his voice slick with venom. His gaze shifted back to the nearest camera, as if looking straight into all of us at once. "To have brushed so close to unlimited power... and for what? A warm little light you all cling to like moths. Hope. Unity. The ever-fragile dream of peace." He chuckled—low, mocking. "Delusions wrapped in idealism. How quaint."
He paused, then turned his gaze back to Fury, that smirk sharpening into something more feral. "And then... to be reminded what real power is."
Fury didn't blink. His jaw clenched, eyes cold. "Well," he said flatly, "let me know if Real Power wants a magazine or something."
He turned and made for the exit.
But then, right on cue—as if Loki had been waiting for this moment—his voice darkened, louder now. "Though if we're speaking of delusions," he called after Fury, "perhaps we should speak of him."
The room stiffened. Everyone at the round table turned. My fingers froze mid-tap on the keyboard. I didn't move. I didn't have to—his words were clearly aimed at me.
Fury stopped—but didn't turn around.
"A masterpiece of deception," Loki went on, his tone velvet-smooth and razor-sharp. "A blade sheathed in mortal frailty, wrapped in pretty ribbons of duty and wit. But the cracks run deep, don't they?"
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with a twisted kind of glee. "Science's beloved son, choking on the ashes of his own creation. Tell me—does it sting more to be their failure... or their masterpiece?"
"Luke," Loki crooned, tilting his head with false tenderness. "That sword may gleam and those words may sting, but you'll always be just a shadow—crafted by fools who thought they could wield lightning." A venomous smile. "Tell me, Shadow... do they haunt you?"
My jaw clenched. I didn't flinch, didn't speak. But inside? My thoughts were screaming.
The silence was suffocating. Banner looked down. Steve watched me carefully, his expression unreadable. Romanoff narrowed her eyes. Bruce didn't say a thing. And Thor looked like he wanted to strangle Loki.
Still, no one said a word.
"Done talking?" Fury asked, his voice low and calm.
Loki smiled. "For now."
Fury gave no reply. He simply continued his way out, coat whipping behind him.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My hands rested on the table—still, steady.
...
The table eased slightly, but the tension lingered just beneath the surface—like a coiled spring waiting for the next snap.
Bruce let out a weary sigh. "He really grows on you, doesn't he? Guy's got a certain... charm," he mused, a tired smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Loki's going to drag this out," Steve muttered, arms crossed as he turned to Thor. "So, Thor—what's his play?"
Thor didn't hesitate. "He has an army called the Chitauri. They're not of Asgard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."
"Fantastic," I muttered, lacing my words with sarcasm. "Alien invasion. Just when I thought things couldn't get more original."
Steve blinked, still processing. "An army... from outer space?"
Bruce pulled off his glasses and frowned. "So he's building another portal. That's what he needs Erik Selvig for."
Thor's brows drew together after hearing the name. "Selvig?"
"Of course it's a scientist," I chimed in, rolling my eyes. "And not just any scientist—a freaking astrophysicist. Because apparently aliens really love our PhDs."
"He's a friend," Thor said firmly, a note of protectiveness in his voice.
"Ah, that explains the flash of recognition," I said, giving him a knowing glance. "You two go way back, huh? Bet he helped you figure out the difference between science and space magic."
Romanoff cut in before Thor could respond. "Loki has him under some kind of spell," she said, her voice clipped. "along with one of ours.."
"Barton?" I asked, though I already had a sinking feeling.
She nodded, her expression grim. "He's compromised."
I leaned back in my seat, exhaling slowly, then propped my feet up on the table. "Alright, my best guess? Loki's buying time. Stalls, distracts, plays mind games... until something triggers a breakout. That fancy glass box won't hold him forever."
"He's right," Steve agreed, shifting his weight as he turned back to Thor. "So, what's Loki's next move? I wanna know why Loki let us take him. He's not leading an army from here."
Thor looked torn, conflicted in a way I hadn't seen before. "Have care how you speak," he warned, voice low. "Loki is beyond reasoning... but he is of Asgard. He is my brother."
"Yeah, well," I muttered, gesturing vaguely at the tension in the room, "your brother's a real peach."
I stood up, pacing slowly. "Eighty body bags in two days, a blue cosmic cube being used like a toy, and now a possible alien army on the way? Not to mention—" I pointed at the busted edge of my tablet "—my gear budget's gonna take a massive hit after this."
Natasha raised a brow. "You charge by the hour, Lieutenant?"
"Nah," I shot back with a grin, "but maybe I should."
Thor's expression darkened. "He's adopted," he said flatly, as if that was all the explanation we'd ever need.
"Honestly," I sighed, dragging a hand down my face, "you mythological types have the most intense family drama. Makes reality TV look like kindergarten."
"Agreeing with Luke on that one," Bruce added, arms crossed and brow knit in thought. "But I'm still not sure what the iridium is for."
Before anyone could answer, the doors hissed open and in walked Stark and Coulson, mid-conversation.
"I'm just saying," Stark whispered to Coulson, not exactly keeping his voice low, "take a weekend off. I'll fly you to Portland. Gotta keep the romance alive, right?"
Without missing a beat, he turned to the rest of us. "It's a stabilizing agent," Stark declared, his trademark smug grin firmly in place.
"Stabilizing agent?" I repeated, eyes narrowing in thought. Then it clicked—hard. "Wait a second..." I snapped my fingers. "It's to keep the portal from imploding, isn't it? Like, to stop it from collapsing on itself. Ugh, how did I not see that? I'm seriously slipping."
"Ding ding ding!" Stark said, pointing at me with an exaggerated flourish. "We have a winner, folks."
He turned to Thor, extending a hand with that ever-so-Stark charm. "No hard feelings, Point Break. You've got a mean swing."
I stepped forward, still processing out loud. "Which also means..." I made a wide circular motion with my hands, "...the portal can stay open as wide and for as long as Loki wants."
I tapped my chin. "Damn. He's playing 4D chess, and we're still trying to figure out where the board is."
Stark shot me a surprised glance, then nodded approvingly. "Another point for the kid."
He made his way over to Fury's console like he owned the place, tapping away without asking. "Ah, raise the mizzenmast, ship the topsails," he quipped in a faux British accent.
Everyone stared at Stark like he'd grown a second head. He casually pointed toward a guy at the corner of the bridge, hunched over a console with a suspicious level of focus.
"That man is playing Galaga!" Stark announced with mock outrage. "Thought we wouldn't notice... but we did."
The agent in question flinched guiltily but kept tapping the joystick, pretending he wasn't caught red-handed.
Stark sauntered over to the command center, closing his right eye, and facing at the various monitors. "How does Fury even see out of these things?" he muttered.
"He turns," the female agent—Hill, I think her name was—replied, completely deadpan.
"Sounds exhausting. And like way too much work," Stark groaned, shaking his head.
While still keeping up the theatrics, he casually leaned on the console, discreetly slipping a small device under it. Smooth. Too smooth.
"The rest of the raw materials," he continued, his tone shifting into something closer to business. "Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source. A high energy density, something to kick start the cube."
Natasha gave me a sidelong glance, her arms crossed. "Since when are either of you experts in thermonuclear astrophysics?"
"Last night," Stark and I said at the same time, in perfect sync.
She blinked, clearly not expecting that.
"Well," I added with a smug grin, "I actually stayed up reading. Stark probably got bored and hacked NASA."
"Please, NASA's security is basically a 'Welcome' mat written in Comic Sans," Tony quipped, fingers flying across the screens without even looking up. "I hacked it accidentally while ordering takeout."
I chuckled. "Exactly my point."
"At least some of us knows how to have fun while doing their homework." Stark shot back, mock-offended,
I smirked. "Yeah? You install spyware in all your study sessions, or just the ones with government clearance?"
He only gave me a sly grin.
Natasha just shook her head, muttering something about "genius idiots" under her breath.
And honestly? She wasn't wrong.
Steve looked completely lost. "Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?" he asked, clearly hoping someone would throw him a lifeline.
"He'd have to heat the cube to around 120 million kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier," Bruce explained, adjusting his glasses as he leaned forward.
I blinked. "Okay, hold up. English, please, Doc," I said, raising a hand. "Not all of us have a Ph.D. in nuclear science."
Bruce smiled faintly, glancing my way. "It means he'd need a crazy amount of energy to get the Tesseract to open a stable wormhole. It's like... trying to punch a hole through the universe with a matchstick."
"Unless this Selvig Guy figured out how to stabilize quantum tunneling," I added, standing up and moving to Bruce's side. "Which, let's be honest, is the scientific equivalent of juggling chainsaws blindfolded."
"If he could do that," Bruce continued, "he could achieve heavy-ion fusion at any reactor on Earth. That'd give him the juice to tear open a portal and keep it open."
Stark walked towards us. "Finally, who speak my language."
Steve looked between the three of us like we were suddenly speaking Klingon. "Is that what just happened?"
I patted him on the back with a sympathetic grin. "Welcome to science class, Steve. You'll catch on. Maybe."
"It's good to meet you, Dr. Banner," Stark said, striding over to the man with dramatic flair and shaking his hand like they were at a press conference. "Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster."
Bruce mumbled a modest, "Thanks," and I caught the brief flicker of discomfort in his eyes.
"Maybe tone down the green monster jokes," I muttered to Stark, elbowing him lightly.
He just grinned. "What? I'm being nice."
"Your version of 'nice' is about three feet to the left of socially acceptable," I muttered, folding my arms.
Fury entered the room, his one-eyed gaze sweeping across every single one of us. "Doctor Banner is only here to track the Cube," he said firmly. "I was hoping you might join him and Lieutenant Faraday."
"Right," I muttered under my breath, grabbing a datapad and flipping it open. "Science squad."
Steve leaned forward, tapping a screen that showed a rotating 3D model of Loki's scepter. "I'd start with that stick of his," he suggested. "It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.
"Definitely not just for show," I added, squinting at the readout. "That thing's humming with energy. Looks like it's synced with the Cube."
Fury nodded. "I don't know about that, but it is powered by the cube. What I want to know is how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys."
Thor blinked, visibly thrown. "Monkeys? I do not understand."
"I do!" Steve blurted out, way too enthusiastically. He straightened in his seat, practically glowing with pride. "I... I understood that reference."
There was a beat of silence.
I snorted. "To be fair, it was a decent pull. 'Wizard of Oz,' right?."
Thor looked from one of us to the next, completely lost. "Is this Midgardian sorcery? A spellbook of some kind?"
Bruce chuckled under his breath. "Movie, actually. But close."
"If that scepter's our link to the Tesseract," I said, already pulling up energy resonance scans. "then we map its frequency signature, we find the Cube. Possibly even predict where the portal opens."
Banner nodded, stepping up beside me. "We'll need access to the scepter, and a secondary data stream from any known Tesseract anomalies."
"I'll have Hill coordinate that," Fury said, already moving toward the door. "And Faraday—"
"I'm on it," I replied, already halfway from the exit. "Let's crack this open before Loki makes another move."
...
~The Lab~
Bruce, Stark, and I were hunched over our respective workstations—three glorified nerds chasing cosmic breadcrumbs. Bruce waved a handheld scanner over Loki's scepter, brows furrowed in deep concentration.
"The gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig's reports on the Tesseract." he muttered, eyes locked on the screen. " But it's gonna take weeks to process."
"Hold my metaphorical beer," I said, already cracking my knuckles and diving into the terminal. My fingers danced across the keys like they had a personal grudge against the keyboard.
"Rerouting processing power to the Homer cluster. That should get us running at peak capacity in less than a minute."
"And we'll be clocking calculations at six hundred teraflops in no time," Stark chimed in from across the table, not even glancing up. "Kid knows his stuff."
I grinned, not looking away from the screen. "What can I say? When your childhood playground is a lab, you pick up a few things—especially when you're half-spliced with experimental code."
Bruce looked up with a sheepish grin. "I only brought a toothbrush."
"Same," I said, shrugging. "Looks like we're in for the long haul."
"You two should stop by Stark Tower sometime," Stark offered, casually flipping through data.
"Top ten floors are all R&D. it's candy land."
"I'll take you up on that when Fury isn't looming in the shadows like an overprotective bat," I replied, still glued to my display. "Also, I'll need a day off. Apparently, those are a thing."
Bruce gave a dry laugh. "Thanks, but the last time I was in New York I kind of broke..." He trailed off, eyes darkening. "Let's just say it didn't go well."
"Ah right," I said with a knowing nod. "The Harlem Incident."
"Well, I promise a stress free environment. No tension. No surprises." Stark said with mock sincerity, raising one hand like he was swearing an oath. "Absolutely zero Hulk-outs permitted. It's in the elevator policy."
"Stress-free?" I swiveled around to face him, arching an eyebrow. "In a building that literally glows with weapons-grade ego?"
Bruce chuckled, and even Stark cracked a smile.
"Sign me up anyway," I said, finally leaning back in my chair. "Worst-case scenario, I build a mech suit and escape through the window."
"Alright, kiddo," Stark said, turning to me with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let's find you a cozy little corner to play in."
Then—completely out of nowhere—he zapped Bruce with a low-voltage taser. Bruce let out a startled yelp, flinching from the jolt.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there, Sparky!" I shouted, instinctively stepping back. "Are we trying to die today? Because triggering a Hulk-out indoors sounds like a bold strategy."
Steve, who'd just been walking past the lab, heard the commotion and immediately burst in, ready to throw down like it was D-Day all over again.
"Hey!" Steve barked, eyes flicking between Stark, Bruce, and me.
Before I could answer, Stark raised his hands with exaggerated innocence. "Nothing"
"You zapped him with a taser," I said.
Steve looked like he wanted to slam his shield into a wall. "Stark, you need to focus on the actual problem, not—whatever this is."
"Think I don't know that?" Stark shot back, voice edged with frustration. "Fury didn't call a group hug. There's intel he's sitting on, and I can't work miracles with half the damn picture."
"You think Fury's hiding something?" Steve asked, glancing around like he half-expected to find bugs in the walls.
I leaned forward from my seat, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, Steve. Fury's the definition of 'classified.' Guy walks around in leather with an eye patch and a permanent grimace. That screams secrets."
"Seriously," I added with a shrug, "if he ever says 'trust me,' I'm diving out a window."
Bruce gave a reluctant chuckle. "He does have a habit of leaving out the fine print."
I turned to Steve, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "He's a spy, Steve. He's The Spy. That guy's got secrets buried deep."
"Look," I continued, addressing the room, "I've known Fury for a couple years, and he still gives me the creeps."
"Wow, somebody woke up and chose violence today," Stark quipped, miming an explosion with his hands. "Save some wit for the rest of us, kid—Twitter's not handing out trophies."
"A warm light for all mankind," Bruce muttered under his breath.
"I heard it," Steve said, his eyes fixed on Bruce with a hint of amusement.
"Actually," Bruce clarified, a sheepish grin on his face, "I think that was meant for you," He gestured towards Stark, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Even if Barton didn't tell Loki about the tower, it was still all over the news. The whole city was talking about it."
Steve's eyes widened as he turned to Stark. "Stark Tower? That...big, ugly building in New York?"
Bruce continued, his voice filled with a scientist's awe. " It's powered by Stark Reactors, self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for what, a year?"
"It's still in the experimental phase," Tony replied with a shrug, a hint of exhaustion in his voice.
"I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now; that's what he's getting at."
"Why is it always 'experimental' with you, Stark?" I quipped. "You're a billionaire genius, for crying out loud. Can't you just make something that works the first time?"
Bruce chimed in with a pointed question, arms crossed and brow furrowed. "So why didn't S.H.I.E.L.D. bring him in on the Tesseract project? And what are they even doing in the energy business to begin with?"
"I'll get to the bottom of that," Stark replied, casually tapping away at a nearby console. "Once my decryption programmer finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files."
My eyes narrowed as something clicked. "Ahh... so that's what that sneaky little gadget under the desk was for." I pointed directly at the device he'd subtly planted earlier.
Stark actually looked impressed. "You saw that?" he asked, raising a brow. "Not bad, kid. Guess I underestimated you."
"Not to brag," I said with a shrug, "but my brain doesn't exactly run on normal settings. I pick things up. It's kind of my thing."
Steve shot me a look, clearly confused. "I'm sorry—did you say—?"
"His fancy little device from earlier has been snooping around in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s digital underwear drawer," I cut in, not even looking up from my screen.
"Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours we'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide." Stark added.
Steve turned toward Stark, suspicion creeping into his features. "Yet you're confused about why they didn't want you around?"
Stark raised both hands in mock innocence. "An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not possible."
"Can confirm," I muttered, fingers flying across the keyboard. "And let's just say that rarely ends with a group hug."
Steve, still clearly annoyed, stood a little straighter. "I think Loki's trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war, and if don't stay focused, he'll succeed. We have orders, we should follow them."
I groaned and slouched further into my chair. "Yeah, well... 'mercenary and coffee-maker' doesn't exactly come with dental or a fat paycheck, Steve. So pardon me if I freelance a bit."
Stark grinned. "Yeah, following orders isn't my style. Makes me break out in sarcasm."
"Okay, let's review the roster," Stark said, counting on his fingers with theatrical flair. "Exhibit A: Capsicle here, who still thinks 'wireless' means radio. Exhibit B: Test-tube jockey who can't sit still for five minutes." He fixed me with a look. "And I'm the irresponsible one? That's adorable."
I blinked. "Is my attention span really that bad?" I asked, feigning genuine offense. "I mean, I get things done... eventually."
Tony just shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face as he turned back to Steve. "I rest my case."
Bruce leaned against the table, arms crossed. "Steve, tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?"
Steve didn't even pause. "Just find the cube," he said, voice clipped, before storming out of the lab.
There was a beat of silence.
Then I muttered, "And they say I have anger issues." I shook my head. "Fun fact: that guy was the design model for my project. What a legacy."
"Wow. That... actually explains everything," Tony said, snapping his fingers. "No offense. Okay, maybe a little offense."
Bruce just looked between the two of us like he was reconsidering every choice that brought him here.
"Alright, calling it for now," I said, stretching until my joints popped. "My brain's fried, and I'm in dire need of caffeine. Possibly a nap. Probably both."
I tossed a lazy salute over my shoulder as I walked out. The sound of Stark and Banner's ongoing banter faded behind me, replaced by the low hum of the helicarrier's engines. For now, at least, I had a few minutes to breathe—until the next disaster came knocking. Which, knowing our luck, was probably five minutes away.
Only that it was just a ruse.
I didn't need caffeine, not really. Not in the way they did. The truth was, I just needed an excuse—to get away, to think, to... investigate. Something wasn't adding up, and with S.H.I.E.L.D. dragging us deeper into this rabbit hole, I figured it was time to do what I did best: go digging.
I moved through the lower levels of the helicarrier silent and unnoticed. This wasn't my first time pulling classified threads out of the mess. The system hadn't changed much since the last time I poked around. Encryption was tighter, sure—but I wasn't just good with code. I was code, in a way. Designed to adapt, to infiltrate, to out-think the very people who created me.
I made my way into the isolated data archive. I tapped into one of the secure terminals, slipping past firewalls like they were barely-there curtains. My fingers flew over the keyboard as encrypted files flashed across the screen.
PROJECT SENTINEL.
There it was, buried beneath layers of obfuscation, redacted memos, ghost entries, and denials. The program that made me.
It started in the '50s—another Cold War paranoia project. A contingency plan for enemies that couldn't be fought with diplomacy. By the '70s, they'd hit their stride. That's when I came into the picture. Or rather, that's when they made me.
But it didn't stop with me.
I dug deeper, narrowing the search parameters, bypassing security prompts that should've flagged me ages ago.
JASON.
The name hit like a punch to the gut. The one ghost they never stopped chasing.
Jason was one of the later trials. After Dr. Faraday's sudden death in the '90s—an "accident," though no one close to the program really believed that—a new wave of terror incidents gave the government the excuse they needed to dust off Sentinel again. But the world had changed, and not everyone inside the inner circle was eager to relight that fuse.
Jason had been designed as a more "streamlined" version of me. Simplified. Easier to control. That was the idea, at least. He was supposed to be temporary—his genome unstable, riddled with inconsistencies flagged even before training was complete. They said he wouldn't last long. That's what the records claimed. Yet the convoy transporting him to a secure site... never made it.
Only bodies were recovered.
No Jason.
I leaned back in the chair, the screen dimming slightly as if mirroring my thoughts. It had been years. No confirmed sightings. No chatter. Just a lingering silence that felt less like absence and more like waiting.
And now, here I was—tangled in a world of gods, aliens, and the unknown—staring down ghosts that refused to stay buried.
I pulled out a data chip from my jacket and slotted it into the terminal, copying everything I could. If Jason was out there... if Sentinel was being whispered about again... then we were way more screwed than any of them realized.
But because I was never supposed to last this long either.
And maybe I wasn't the only thing the past forgot to kill.
"Computer," I muttered, ejecting the drive and shoving it deep into my boot, "erase last access log."
With a soft beep, the terminal obeyed, leaving behind nothing but flickering monitors and a silence that seemed suddenly heavier.
I exhaled slowly, then turned on my heel and walked out like I'd never been there.
Time to play the part again.
For now.
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To be continued...
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