Chapter 137
Arc 9 - Ch 4: Variant
Location: Time Variance Authority
The TVA archives stretched in all directions, rows of filing cabinets creating a maze of institutional beige and fluorescent lights. Tyson sat at a table buried under manila folders, each one documenting another piece of information he used to form his steps to success. The air conditioning ran too cold, probably to preserve the paper, as if paper in a timeless space needed to be preserved. His fingers had gone stiff from turning pages, and his eyes burned from staring at the Avengers' files for hours. He'd lost count somewhere around file two hundred. The TVA archives smelled like old paper and the burnt-coffee dregs in his cup, both equally bitter.
His mind drifted as he waited for Loki and Mobius to return, circling back to the same question that had plagued him since the TVA first captured him.
What exactly was his endgame here?
They claimed Tyson was a Nexus Being and could change things on the Sacred Timeline. Renslayer never explained what they planned to do with him long-term. He wasn't naive enough to believe "consultant" was a permanent position. Eventually, the TVA would make a decision about him. They'd either determine he was useful enough to keep around, leashed and controlled, or they'd decide he was too dangerous and too unpredictable. He'd seen the pruning sticks. Watched agents use them without hesitation against that rude college kid.
He'd need a plan, a fallback for when, eventually, he'd fight the TVA. Because planning for Ultron, Wanda, and Pietro was all good, but wouldn't mean anything if he couldn't stop his timeline from being pruned.
He glanced up when the archive doors hissed open. Mobius strode in with Loki trailing behind. Their body language, Mobius's quick stride, Loki's satisfied smirk, suggested they'd found what they were looking for.
About damn time.
"Loki was right," Mobius announced, slapping down a folder. "The Variant is hiding in apocalypses." He paced around the table. "For this theory to hold, the disasters have to be naturally occurring, sudden, with no warning, and have no survivors."
Loki preened.
"How many could there be?" he asked.
"I do not know." Mobius turned to Tyson. "We are gonna find out. Come on, Tyson, let's get to looking."
The three settled into a rhythm, poring over files of apocalyptic events. Volcanic eruptions, meteor impacts, tsunamis, and countless other disasters that wiped out populations across the timeline.
An hour in, Loki had discovered that the 1883 eruption of Krakatoa killed over thirty-six thousand people and declared it "almost impressive." Mobius had given him a withering look and added the file to their "possibilities" stack.
Two hours in, Tyson found himself reading about the Tarellian plague that wiped out the entire world of Alcyon IV in the year 2356. The clinical language of the report, '100% mortality rate within 96 hours', made his skin crawl. He'd seen death. Caused it, when necessary. But something about cataloguing extinction events as potential hiding spots felt ghoulish.
Three hours in, nobody was joking anymore. The files blurred together. Each one represented thousands or millions of deaths.
"This is ghastly," Loki muttered, pushing away a file. "Even I never killed this many people."
"Comforting," Tyson replied, not looking up from his own file. "The God of Mischief has standards."
"I prefer quality over quantity." Loki stretched, joints popping. "Mass murder lacks artistry."
Despite himself, Tyson almost smiled. There was something absurdly funny about discussing ethics with someone whose idea of a prank involved faking his own death multiple times. "You're a real humanitarian."
"I prefer 'discriminating.'"
Mobius glanced up from his stack. "You two sound like you're bonding. Should I be worried?"
"Probably," Tyson and Loki said in unison, then caught each other's eyes before Loki grabbed another file, and the moment passed.
Hours passed.
The table became cluttered with empty coffee cups and discarded files. Even Tyson's broad shoulders eventually slumped with fatigue.
Loki groaned, pushing away from the table. "There are thousands. How do we narrow it down?"
"Maybe we need a break," Mobius said, rubbing his eyes.
"Or maybe the Valravn can use his power of prophecy to tell us where the Variant is hiding."
Tyson shrugged. "I have seen bits of the future. You're just jealous because my godly domains are cooler."
Loki scoffed, crossing his arms. "I am not jealous. I simply think we should utilize all available resources."
"I don't believe it," Mobius said.
Loki paced between the towering shelves. "I mean, you really believe in all this stuff, though, don't you? Three magic lizards..."
"Time Keepers," Mobius corrected.
"...created the TVA, and everyone in it... Including you?"
"Right. Including me." Mobius flipped through another folder.
Loki stopped, placing both hands on the table and leaning forward. "Every time I start to admire your intelligence, you say something like that."
"Okay, who created you, and who raised you, Loki?" Mobius looked up.
"A Frost Giant of Jotunheim and Odin of Asgard."
"Odin, God of the Heavens. Asgard. A mystical realm beyond the stars. Frost Giants." Mobius counted off each point on his fingers. "Listen to yourself..."
"It's not the same." Loki's jaw tightened.
"It's the same." Mobius gathered another stack of files, dropping them onto the table with a thump.
Tyson watched the exchange with interest. Loki had stopped pacing and now stood rigidly still, which, for someone who normally moved with deliberate dramatic flair, signaled genuine agitation. One of his hands had curled into a fist at his side. Mobius, meanwhile, was using the files as a prop, his movements deliberately casual in that way people got when they knew they'd hit a nerve and wanted to appear unconcerned about it. The analyst was better at manipulation than he let on. No wonder he'd been assigned to handle Loki. Mobius was actually making a valid point, even if he didn't realize how valid. Both the TVA and Asgard relied on the same foundation; mythological beings whose power demanded belief. The difference was that you could visit Asgard if you had the means. On the other hand, Loki was right about the Time Keepers, who were conspicuously absent.
Loki whirled around, pointing at Tyson. "See, it's the same. Three magic space lizards. Odin, God of the Heavens. Tyson, Valravn, lesser deity of prophecy."
"More than prophecy. Not so sure on the 'lesser' part of deity," Tyson corrected, "but I'll take it."
"Could you see where we need to go?" Mobius asked.
"Yup." Tyson tapped the metallic collar around his neck. "But I am getting a little chafed around my neck, know what I mean? Hard to see the future without any powers."
Mobius groaned, tossing his pen onto the table. "You too? Everyone around here wants something."
"You let Loki off his leash, and he is the God of Mischief." Tyson gestured toward Loki. "I came to the TVA voluntarily and have been cooperative the entire time. You would think he was the Avenger and I was the villain."
Loki chuckled. "He makes a fair point."
Mobius paced, considering. "The TVA protocols are clear about Variants and their abilities."
"I am not a Variant," Tyson countered. "I am a Nexus-Being, remember? Different classification entirely."
"He is correct," Loki interjected, setting down the Pompeii file. "Nexus-Beings exist to shape your precious Sacred Timeline."
Loki was backing his argument? The God of Mischief, who'd treated their alliance as an amusing diversion at best, was actively supporting Tyson's case for freedom. Either Loki genuinely believed in the distinction between Variants and Nexus-Beings, or, more likely, he saw an opportunity that he might leverage later for his own purposes.
Still, unexpected help was unexpected help. Tyson would take it. But in the back of his mind, he considered that Loki might be siding with him to drop his guard, so it would be less expected when Loki betrayed him.
Mobius stopped. "How do you know that?"
"I watched the videos. Sort of."
"Look, I understand your caution. But we are wasting time. I can narrow down our search if you just give me a chance."
"And if I do not?"
"Then we continue flipping through files until we all die of boredom," Tyson replied. "Which might take a while, considering this place seems to be beyond time."
Loki snorted. "I would perish first, and gladly."
Mobius studied Tyson carefully. "What exactly would you need to do?"
"Just a minute of having my powers. Enough to glimpse the threads of fate."
"Poetic," Loki muttered.
Tyson's voice took on a mocking tone. "I'm Loki of Asgard. And I'm burdened with glorious purpose." He chuckled. "And you call me poetic."
Mobius pulled a small device from his pocket, turning it over in his hand. "This is against protocol."
"So was bringing us in to help," Loki pointed out. "Yet here we are."
Mobius deliberated. Finally, he approached Tyson, holding up the controller. "One glimpse. That is all you get. And if you try anything—"
"You will reset me to the dawn of time. I understand."
Mobius pressed a sequence on the controller. The collar around Tyson's neck emitted a soft beep.
Tyson closed his eyes. Power rushed back into him like blood returning to a sleeping limb; pins-and-needles sensation spread through his awareness. Metal sang to him immediately. The structural supports in the walls, the filing cabinet latches, the tiny screws in Mobius's controller. After hours, or days, or weeks of sensory deprivation, the sudden flood was almost overwhelming. His illusion magic unfurled next, settling behind his eyes. The instinct to test it, to craft some small deception just to prove he still could, took effort to suppress. But he reached deeper, searching for the thread that connected him to Nexus, his sword. That bond should have snapped taut across whatever distance separated them.
Nothing.
The anti-magic properties of the TVA were still blocking that particular connection, leaving a hollow ache where it should be. He'd known his sword wouldn't be accessible here, but experiencing the absence still felt like losing a limb.
He slowly opened his eyes.
After several moments, Tyson said, "Roxxon. A superstore like Walmart. Hurricane."
"What?" Mobius asked.
Loki shuffled through files. "I saw that one, hold on." He pulled one out. "Roxxcart Superstore. Alabama, 2050."
"A hurricane wipes it out. Everyone dies. That is where your variant is hiding."
Mobius looked skeptical. "You are sure?"
"I'm sure."
Mobius stood and went to a box, returning with a candy wrapper in an evidence bag. "Kablooie." He held it up. "The Variant left it behind at one of the scenes. Kablooie was only sold regionally on Earth from 2047 to 2051." He paused. "It fits. This confirms your vision." Mobius tucked the evidence away. "Look, you both helped narrow this down." He reactivated Tyson's collar. "I'm going to talk to the Judge and see if we can move forward on getting a team to capture this variant. And maybe get some more leniency with the collar. Thanks for cooperating. Just give me a little time."
— Rogue Redemption —
Tyson and Loki found themselves in the locker area with Mobius, the Minutemen team, and Hunter B-15. The agents went through pre-mission checks, securing their armor.
"Collar?" Tyson asked.
Mobius grimaced. "Sorry, I had to push to get this mission approved. Getting the collar removed was always a stretch."
Disappointment settled heavily in Tyson's chest, though he'd expected this answer. Of course, Mobius couldn't convince Renslayer to unleash a Nexus-Being on an active mission. The TVA didn't build its empire on trust. They'd rather send him into danger handicapped than risk him accessing his full abilities. If things went sideways at Roxxcart, he'd be relying purely on hand-to-hand combat and whatever environmental advantages he could create. Not ideal odds, but he still had his claws which, unless he assumed incorrectly, could slice through the collar on his neck with ease.
He forced the frustration down. Showing it wouldn't change anything, and might make Mobius less likely to grant concessions later.
Tyson sighed. "At least tell me I get a weapon."
Mobius handed him a time stick. "Standard issue."
Tyson held it up, testing its balance. The weight felt wrong immediately; too light at the end where the pruning mechanism should be. He turned it over, checking for the activation panel that should glow blue when armed.
Nothing. Just smooth metal.
"This isn't standard issue. It doesn't have the glowy end. It's just a baton."
Mobius grimaced again, this time with something that might have been genuine sympathy. "Look, I pushed as hard as I could. You're getting to come along. That's something."
"Sure." Tyson kept his voice neutral. "Coming along to hunt a variant who's killed trained Minutemen, while I'm collared and armed with a stick."
Around them, Minutemen were checking their actual weapons, the ones that could erase people from existence. Hunter B-15 holstered her time stick, then shot Tyson a look that clearly communicated what she thought about bringing prisoners on missions.
The message was clear. Tyson wasn't trusted with the same equipment as actual TVA agents. He was useful, maybe even necessary, but he wasn't one of them. The collar wasn't the only thing marking him as different.
Loki watched with barely concealed amusement.
"Who knows," Mobius said. "If you two were right, I'm sure there will be more to come."
Loki perked up. "Like a meeting with the Time Keepers?"
"One step at a time."
"Gather around for a briefing," B-15 called. The Minutemen formed a semicircle around her, with Loki, Tyson, and Mobius at the front. B-15 activated a holographic display showing their target location.
"Roxxcart is a vast superstore common to the era," she explained as the hologram rotated. "It consists of a series of sprawling sections, including a large warehouse."
The image zoomed in on the warehouse.
"Civilians are using this warehouse as a shelter, trying to ride out the storm." B-15's expression grew grave. "Remember, this is a class ten apocalypse. While the Variant shouldn't know we're coming, he could be hiding anywhere and should be considered hostile. So stay alert."
"Every time there is an attack, the Variant steals a reset charge," B-15 continued. "He's planning something. We just don't know what. So keep an eye out for the missing charges." She deactivated the hologram. Her voice hardened. "And if you see a Loki, prune it."
Loki interrupted. "The bad Loki, preferably."
— Rogue Redemption —
The orange portal opened into Roxxcart's parking lot. Rain pelted horizontally across the asphalt, transforming it into a shallow lake. The sky had become a roiling cauldron of black and gray, punctuated by flashes of lightning. Debris sailed through the air. Shopping carts tumbled across the lot. The howl of the wind drowned out all other sounds. The TVA team leaned into the gale-force winds just to remain standing. Power lines swayed dangerously, occasionally throwing off sparks that hissed and died in the downpour. The Roxxcart building groaned under the assault. The team struggled toward the entrance. Minutemen in their helmets formed a protective phalanx. Mobius and Loki wore their TVA jackets, which offered minimal protection. Tyson, in his office clothes and holding an unbalanced baton, looked particularly vulnerable.
When they finally reached the sliding doors, they stumbled inside, dripping puddles onto the linoleum. The sudden absence of wind created an eerie quiet broken only by distant thunder and the persistent drumming of rain.
Tyson wrung water from his sleeve. "This mission is getting less fun by the minute."
Loki made a subtle gesture. A green shimmer passed over his form. Instantly, his clothes and hair were perfectly dry.
"The hell was that?" B-15 demanded, her hand moving toward her weapon.
"That was me using magic to dry my clothes," Loki replied with casual arrogance. "So I don't announce myself with every squeaky footstep like the rest of you."
Tyson glanced down at his soaked attire. "Got any of that magic for a lesser deity?"
Loki flicked his wrist dismissively. The same green shimmer enveloped Tyson. Water evaporated in an instant.
"Only because you admitted to being lesser," Loki said with a smirk.
"Thanks," Tyson said.
The group gathered in the entrance, water pooling around the Minutemen and B-15. The superstore stretched before them, filled with aisles of everyday items.
"Take both teams and sweep the storm shelter," B-15 ordered.
"Loki and I are gonna check out the Green House," Mobius said, already moving. "We'll meet—"
"No," B-15 interrupted firmly.
Mobius stopped. "No?"
"He stays with me." B-15 nodded toward Loki.
"He's under my supervision."
"This is my field op, Mobius," B-15 said, stepping closer. "I want him with me. You are welcome to go back to the TVA and litigate with Renslayer."
Loki glanced between. "Mobius, it's fine." He raised his hands slightly. "It's fine. You can trust me. I understand I have to earn that, so I will."
Tyson added, "She's the only one who's fought a Loki, and he is a Loki, and unlike me, he still has his powers. If it comes to a fight, I'd rather be with them. Catch you later, Mobius."
Mobius looked between them, clearly unhappy but recognizing the futility of argument. He gave B-15 the controller for Tyson's collar, his eyes lingering on Loki with concern and warning, before turning away.
Tyson smiled inwardly. His plan was shaping up nicely.
The teams split at the front. B-15, Loki, and Tyson headed deeper into the superstore, toward the garden center. Mobius led the Minutemen toward the back. The hurricane continued its assault outside, a constant reminder of the upcoming Apocalypse. The building groaned around them, structural supports protesting the wind's assault. Overhead, the fluorescent lights flickered intermittently, casting everything in strobing shadows that made it hard to track movement.
B-15, Loki, and Tyson walked down the garden section aisle past rows of plants. The scent of damp soil and greenery surrounded them.
Loki adopted a conversational tone. "I am glad we're getting to spend this time together. I'm saying we got off on the wrong—"
"Be quiet," B-15 cut him off.
They came around the corner. A man stood at a rack of plants. Medium height with dark skin, wearing casual clothes that seemed too neat, too deliberate for a hurricane.
"Hey!" B-15 called out sharply, her hand moving to her weapon.
The man put his hands up. "Whoa, whoa. It's okay. It's okay." His voice carried a slight tremor, eyes darting between them.
"What are you doing?"
The man replied nervously, "Shopping for plants. It's a hurricane sale. Azaleas are half off." He gestured toward a 50% off sign.
"Azaleas half off is a good deal, they grow well in New York, but they probably bloom longer down south," Tyson said.
They all looked at him like he was an idiot, except the man who nodded in agreement.
"That's right. They love the humidity here. Need acidic soil though."
B-15 whispered to Loki, "Could that be you?"
Loki tilted his head, studying the man. "I mean, I probably would have worn a suit, but, yes, maybe."
"My vote is no," Tyson said. "He doesn't give off 'glorious purpose' vibes." He made air quotes, earning a scowl from Loki.
B-15 got close. The man suddenly grabbed her arm. Green energy streamed from his hand around B-15's forearm. Her expression froze, then went slack as the man dropped to the ground, seemingly unconscious.
"Is he dead?" Loki asked.
But it was B-15 that answered, her voice suddenly different. Lighter, more playful, with a hint of mischief.
"No. They usually survive." She straightened, rolling her shoulders as if trying on a new coat. "So, you're the fools the TVA brought in to hunt me down."
Loki's eyebrows shot up. "Me, I presume."
"Please," B-15 scoffed, examining her hands. "If anyone's anyone, you're me." She smiled widely, a smile that didn't belong on B-15's face.
"I'm Tyson. It's nice to meet you," he said casually.
Loki smiled widely. "Agreed. How nice to meet you." There was genuine delight in his voice, like finding a long-lost sibling.
B-15 began walking, leaving the garden section and moving into small appliances.
"Enchantment is a clever trick," Loki said, keeping pace. "Cowardly, a bit amateur-ish, but clever."
"Almost as cowardly as working for the TVA," B-15 retorted, running her fingers along a row of microwaves.
"Amora used Enchantment on me once. It was only moderately effective," Tyson said. "But I have to admit, Loki, this version of you is doing pretty well. I wouldn't say Enchantment is any more cowardly than illusions." He paused, adjusting his collar. "Oh, and for the record, I don't work for the TVA."
B-15 glanced at the metal collar. "No, you wouldn't, not with that collar. Either they don't trust you, or they need to keep you locked down."
"A bit of both," Tyson admitted.
Loki stopped in front of a display of electric kettles. "I'm not working for the TVA. I'm working for me."
"You really believe that, don't you?" B-15 laughed. "And here I was worried that they'd found a better version of me."
A Roxxcart employee walked up, his name tag reading 'Dave.' He wore the standard blue polo, rumpled and damp at the edges. "Hi, are you guys looking for the disaster shelter?"
"No," B-15 said.
She put her arm on the employee's. Another flash of green, passing from her hand into his arm, ended with a quick flash of green across his eyes. B-15 fell to the side unconscious as the variant's control transferred into yet another new body.
Dave bent down and grabbed B-15's temp-pad. He stood and straightened his blue polo shirt, adjusting his name tag. "Oh, bless. Are you going to call your little friends for help?" He chuckled, strolling toward the grocery section.
Tyson knelt to check on B-15.
She was alive. But he didn't actually care about that, not really.
His true objective was revealed as he reached into one of her pockets and grabbed the controller for his collar. With a few taps, the collar deactivated and came loose. Tyson pocketed it along with the controller.
Loki looked at him warily, ready for Tyson to attack. His fingers twitched, green energy dancing between them.
"Relax," Tyson said, rising slowly. "I think we're past our little grudge match, aren't we?" He rolled his shoulders, feeling the absence of the collar's dampening like taking off a too-tight shirt.
The tension in Loki's shoulders gradually eased, though his guard never fully dropped. "You're either very clever or very foolish, Valravn. I haven't decided which."
Tyson inclined his head in the direction of the possessed employee. "Let's find out."
Loki and Tyson followed, leaving behind the B-15 unconscious.
"What's the matter? Are you too scared to meet me face-to-face? Show yourself," Loki called out. "You know, gaining their confidence was no mean feat."
Dave turned around, leaning against a display of breakfast bars. "Oh, my God. You went undercover." His tone was mocking.
"Not going to lie, this variant is giving off creepy vibes, not I'm-afraid-to-fight-you vibes," Tyson observed.
Loki ignored him. "If you both could possibly sheathe your smarm for a moment, I have an offer for you. That's why I found you. I'm going to overthrow the Time-Keepers." He paused for dramatic effect. "And, uh, cards on the table, I could use a qualified lieutenant."
Dave's eyebrows rose. "And I assume you mean... me?"
"Not sure why I didn't get a job offer, too," Tyson said.
"What say you... Loki?" Loki asked, extending his hand.
Dave's face contorted with disgust. "Ugh. Don't call me that. You can call me... Randy."
"God," Loki mumbled. "Now I understand why Thor found this so annoying."
Tyson snorted. "I'm enjoying you having to suffer yourself."
The three continued through the store, passing through frozen foods. The constant rumble of thunder provided an ominous backdrop.
"Enough with your games," Loki snapped. "I've been trying to help you. I kept them vulnerable at the Renaissance Fair for some time."
"Oh, gosh, and that was just so nice of you," Dave replied, dripping with sarcasm. He paused by a display of canned soup. "But after eight to ten seconds of consideration, the answer is no. I'm not interested in ruling the Time Variance Authority."
"You should have called him Randy," Tyson said. "Seems like you upset him."
Dave continued on, leading them toward electronics. They reached the section where televisions displayed static and emergency alerts. Loki paused suddenly, his attention caught by something sitting on one of the shelves between gaming consoles and headphones.
A reset charge.
The cylindrical device sat there, its blue lights pulsing gently.
"Oh, I see," Loki said as he gestured toward it. "So that's your plan. Lure us all here so you can blow us up?"
When he looked back, Dave had vanished during that brief moment of distraction.
Loki spun around. "Which way did he go?"
Tyson pointed to Loki's left. "Randy went that way—"
Before he could finish, a large man appeared from behind a display of bedding. He moved with surprising speed, launching a kick at Loki. His boot connected solidly with Loki's chest, sending the Asgardian flying backward and skidding across the ground.
The large man laughed and ran up on Loki, kicking him again, sending him sliding.
Loki mumbled, "I miss Dave."
The large man continued. "Thank you for helping me stall for time. You really do love to hear yourself talk."
Upbeat fight music began playing. Both the large man and Loki stopped and looked to the side. Tyson had turned on one of the display speakers in the electronics section.
Loki tilted his head in confusion, but the large man punched him again, knocking him onto his back.
"Come on, stop hiding." Loki groaned. The big man lifted him up by his jacket. "If you had any honor, you'd fight me as yourself."
"I have shit to do." The man threw Loki, launching him through some shelving.
He then turned on Tyson, who was still holding the speaker. Lunging forward, he cocked back and threw a punch. Tyson casually dodged it. The man threw several more punches. Tyson dodged each, using his spider-sense to effortlessly avoid getting hit.
"If you've got shit to do, you should probably get to it, before the Minutemen get wise to your location."
The man squinted. "You're only slightly less obnoxious than he is. Are you a Loki too?"
"Nope, you guys have that on lock."
The man relaxed and turned away. He walked over to a device a few aisles over and placed B-15's temp-pad inside. A timer began counting down. He connected the wires. Tyson noted there was only 1:15 on the countdown.
"Should I be worried about that?"
"Only if you're with the TVA."
Loki stood from the shelving, brushing debris from his TVA coat with exaggerated dignity despite his disheveled appearance.
"What do you want from me? What is this about?" he yelled.
The big man stood and laughed. "Brace yourself, Loki." Then his expression went slack, eyes rolling back as he collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud.
In the sudden silence, a voice began to echo around them. Loki's own voice, repeating his questions.
"What do you want from me? What is this about?"
The words repeated and echoed, growing fainter as if traveling away. Loki and Tyson turned simultaneously, following the sound to its source.
A cloaked figure stood at the end of the aisle, partially obscured by shadows. The figure reached up with slender fingers and pulled back their hood.
An attractive woman with short blonde hair. She wore a small tiara with devil horns, though one horn was broken off. Her eyes held the same mischievous glint that Loki's often did.
"This isn't about you," she said, her voice carrying the same cadence as Loki's despite being distinctly feminine.
Loki's expression flattened. "Right."
At that moment, the countdown on the temp-pad reached zero. The digital display flashed once before going dark.
"Drama turned up to eleven. Gotta admit she's got the flair of the God of Mischief," Tyson remarked as the lights throughout the store cut off abruptly.
Darkness enveloped them briefly before small blue lights began blinking across the store. Reset charges activated. Dozens of them illuminated the darkness. But before they could detonate, small orange doors of TVA portals manifested beneath each charge. One by one, the charges disappeared through these doorways.
Emergency lights kicked on, bathing the area in an eerie red glow.
The female Loki bent down and grabbed B-15's temp-pad from the device. She examined it briefly, and with a quick flick of her wrist, she activated an orange portal door that materialized in the air before her.
She turned back. With an exaggerated, theatrical wave of her hand, she stepped backward through the glowing doorway.
Loki and Tyson stood in momentary silence, both staring at the portal that remained open, pulsing with orange light.
Loki turned to Tyson. "What do you think?" His voice was low, contemplative as he gestured toward the portal.
Before Tyson could answer, hurried footsteps echoed through the store. Mobius rounded the corner with a squad of Minutemen in tow, their weapons drawn. Their boots squeaked against the wet linoleum.
"There they are!" one of the Minutemen shouted, pointing.
Tyson glanced from the approaching TVA agents to Loki, then back to the portal. "If you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?" He smiled.
"That's a loaded question," Loki mumbled, his eyes narrowing as he considered the portal.
"Wait, Loki! Wait!" Mobius shouted. The desperation in his tone was palpable, concern, and perhaps even fear. B-15 had regained consciousness and was running with them. She looked pissed.
Tyson shrugged. "This should be fun." He stepped toward the portal.
Loki suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Tyson's arm as he tried to push past him. "I go first," he hissed, attempting to shoulder Tyson aside.
Tyson grabbed Loki's wrist and yanked it downward while simultaneously twisting his body. The god's fingers dug into his arm hard enough to bruise, but leverage beat raw strength. Loki's eyes widened in surprise, before narrowing with anger. He threw a punch with his free hand, aiming for Tyson's face. The blow came fast, backed by Asgardian strength that would have broken bones if it connected.
Using his spider-sense for guidance, he ducked under it, movements almost casual as he slipped beneath Loki's guard. He could hear Mobius shouting something behind them, B-15's footsteps pounding closer. The portal's orange glow illuminated Loki's furious expression as they grappled.
His training kicked in automatically, refined by countless hours of practice, enhanced by his spider-sense and absorbed strength. Tyson had not been able to match Loki in melee when they'd fought on the Rainbow Bridge. But now, he overmatched the God of Mischief. Leverage, timing, exploiting openings, and avoiding attacks with ease.
No time for extended combat. Tyson rose up and delivered an open palm strike directly to the center of Loki's chest. The impact drove the air from the god's lungs with an audible whoosh. The force sent the God of Mischief stumbling backward several steps, arms windmilling for balance.
Loki snarled, regaining his balance, only to back directly into B-15.
Her time stick was already activated. She pressed it against Loki's back without hesitation. There was a brief flash of blue-white light. Loki's form shimmered before dispersing into particles that scattered and disappeared.
"No!" Mobius yelled, his face contorting with frustration as he watched Loki disintegrate. He skidded to a halt, breathing heavily as he turned to Tyson.
The Minutemen raised their weapons, aiming directly at Tyson. B-15 stepped forward, her time stick still humming.
"Don't move," she ordered.
Tyson merely smiled, seemingly unperturbed by the weapons pointed at him or the fact that he had just witnessed Loki being vaporized.
But his confidence wasn't arrogance; it was calculation. He'd seen the future of this story.
Loki would be fine. This was supposed to happen anyway.
"It'll all work out, you'll see." His voice was filled with confidence, as if he knew something they didn't. Which he did. His eyes met Mobius's for a brief moment. He winked. Somehow, the analyst knew the gesture wasn't mocking or defiant, but held a kind of certainty.
Before any of the TVA agents could react, Tyson stepped through the portal. The orange light enveloped him for an instant before the doorway winked shut.
"Damn it!" Mobius yelled.
— Rogue Redemption —
Tyson stepped through the orange portal and found himself back in the locker room. An alarm blared shrilly overhead. The disembodied voice of an announcer echoed through the space.
"All Minutemen to the Armory. This is not a drill. Repeat: All Minutemen to the Armory."
The locker room stood empty, but without the collar restricting his senses, Tyson could smell her. It was one of the aspects of his absorbed abilities from Sabertooth. He could track by scent the way wolves did, separate individual signatures from the background noise of the world. Everyone left traces; hormones, pheromones, the unique chemical composition of their body. The female Loki variant left a distinctive scent trail. The same cold, icy winds and hemlock that marked Loki, but with subtle differences. Sharper somehow, with an undercurrent of something floral he couldn't quite identify. Similar biology, but filtered through different experiences, different choices.
He'd noticed it back at Roxxcart, had filed it away as potentially useful information. Now it gave him a clear path to follow.
Before leaving, he searched the lockers. He found his adamantium weave sitting folded inside one.
Chuckling, he slipped it on. "Thanks for leaving that lying around. It's like being put in prison in an RPG. Get captured, get out of jail, find your confiscated items just sitting in a box right outside the cell." But he wasn't about to complain; he had his armor back. But he still needed to be careful; few things in the universe could punch through adamantium, but these pruning time sticks were one of them.
He followed the scent into the hallway, where three Minutemen lay sprawled unconscious. Their weapons were scattered beside them.
"Don't mind if I do," Tyson murmured, bending down to grab a timestick. He also snatched one of the fallen helmets, quickly using his ferrokinesis to fashion it into a makeshift belt to holster the baton.
Without the collar suppressing his senses, the TVA revealed itself in new dimensions. He could feel every metal structural support in the walls, the complex network of ventilation shafts above, the locked doors with their electronic mechanisms. The place was a fortress dressed up as an office building.
The scent trail grew stronger as he moved deeper into the complex. The institutional beige corridors gradually gave way to an area with rich wood-paneled walls and gold trim. The change was jarring, like walking from a locker room to a DMV, into a palace.
The air smelled different too. Less recycled atmosphere and coffee, more like expensive furniture polish. The alarm continued its persistent wail, but seemed more distant here.
The trail was fresh; she'd passed through here within the last few minutes. But the route she'd taken was deliberate, purposeful. She knew exactly where she was going. But she'd also left three unconscious Minutemen behind rather than killing or pruning them. That suggested mercy? Strategy?
He rounded the corner and saw the elevator with its ornate golden designs. Saw the two more unconscious guards. And there she was, the female Loki variant, standing over them like she'd been waiting.
Maybe she had been.
She tracked his approach, and Tyson got his first good look at a Loki variant who wasn't the one he'd been working with. Same sharp features, same calculating intelligence in her eyes. But where Loki moved with theatrical flourish, she held herself with coiled readiness, like someone who'd survived by being faster and more ruthless than her enemies. She wore a costume that looked similar in quality to Loki's Asgardian armor reimagined. Her hand rested casually on her sword hilt, but Tyson recognized the stance. She was deciding whether he was a threat that needed eliminating or a problem she could talk her way past.
"You're not who I expected." Her voice carried the same cultured accent as her counterpart, but rougher somehow. Weathered by whatever she'd endured. She straightened, regarding him with cool assessment. "Have you really got nothing else better to do?"
Tyson leaned against the wall. "Loki got pruned, poor chap. See him on the other side, I guess." He shrugged. "As for nothing else better to do, nah. All of time, and this seems to be the most interesting place."
Her eyes flickered with surprise at the mention of Loki being pruned, but her expression quickly returned to controlled indifference.
"Why come here?" Tyson asked. "What's the goal?"
She tilted her head slightly, considering whether to answer. After a moment, she replied simply, "The Time Keepers."
"Huh," Tyson said, pushing off from the wall. "Other Loki wanted to speak with them, too." He took a step closer. She subtly shifted her weight in response, ready to fight or flee. "Why, though? You said you didn't want to control the TVA."
"Isn't it obvious?" She moved toward the elevator door, keeping one eye on him. "They control everything. The Sacred Timeline, our lives, our choices... or rather, the illusion of choice." Her voice took on a bitter edge. "They decided I was a mistake to be erased. I think it's time I returned the favor."
"So revenge then?"
She laughed, and the sound held more edge than humor. "Revenge is such a limited concept. I prefer to think of it as liberation."
Tyson studied her face as she spoke. Was it ironic that Loki had considered the Chitauri invasion as liberation when he'd spoken about it, not conquering? And now this Loki was falling back on the same motivation. There was conviction there, but also something that looked like bone-deep exhaustion. How long had she been running from the TVA? How many apocalypses had she hidden in, watching worlds end around her?
"The TVA lies about everything. Haven't you wondered what other lies they've told?" She wasn't just questioning the TVA; she was actively trying to tear it down. There was something both admirable and terrifying about that level of commitment.
"Liberation for who?" he asked. "Just you, or everyone they've declared a variant?"
She turned to look at him fully. "Everyone. The Sacred Timeline is a cage. They erase anyone who doesn't fit their plan, call it maintaining order. How many people has the TVA pruned? How many timelines have they eliminated because someone made the 'wrong' choice?"
Her voice carried conviction, but also something that might have been grief. This wasn't abstract philosophy for her. The TVA had declared her existence a mistake and tried to erase her. Whatever she'd lost, whatever version of herself she'd been before they intervened, she could never get back.
Tyson understood that. His own timeline had been disrupted the moment the TVA took him. He had agreed to come voluntarily, but what real choice had he had?
"I agree with you. I come from a timeline that they want to eliminate. And I've wondered plenty. Like how a bunch of cosmic timekeepers created everyone here, yet they all seem human. Drink coffee, total normal office workers and soldiers."
"You're more observant than your friend."
"Not my friend. More like a temporary alliance of convenience," Tyson clarified.
She knelt beside one of the guards and began searching through their pockets. "What was your crime against the Sacred Timeline?"
"Existing." Tyson moved to check the other guard.
The word came out flat, matter-of-fact, but it carried weight. The TVA had declared his and his timeline's existence itself a crime against the Sacred Timeline. Not something he'd done, not choices he'd made, though they surely would take issue with those. Just the fact of his being alive in the universe constituted a violation worth erasing. They'd said another Nexus-Being wasn't necessary. Was he a mistake or a feature? The TVA couldn't seem to decide whether he was supposed to exist or not, but they sure as hell wanted to control him either way.
"Hey!"
At the hallway entrance leading to the elevator stood Judge Renslayer with a dozen minutemen, all holding their glowing timesticks.
The Lady Loki drew her sword and held it at Tyson's chest. He raised an eyebrow but didn't complain or move. He could have fought her, resisted, he didn't.
"Come any closer, and I'll kill him," she warned, pressing the blade firmly enough to make her point without breaking skin.
Renslayer's lips curled into a dismissive smile. "Go for it."
"What about due process, judge?" Tyson mumbled. He glanced at the weapon. "And you have a sword, not daggers? Are you sure you're a Loki?"
The variant's eyes flashed with irritation. "Don't call me that."
"My bad." Tyson assessed the growing number of minutemen. "But I don't like these odds, Randy."
The variant's gaze darted between Tyson and the approaching threat. "Neither do I."
Renslayer raised her timestick and signaled the charge. The minutemen rushed forward.
Lady Loki pulled out her TemPad and opened an orange portal door beneath their feet. But before gravity took them, her eyes met Tyson's in a split-second assessment that asked a very clear question.
Are you going to fight me or come with me?
Tyson had about half a second to decide. Trust her, or take his chances with Renslayer. It wasn't even a choice. The floor vanished as they dropped through space.
They fell together through the orange void. Sylvie's hand shot out and grabbed his arm, not threatening, but steadying. She might not trust him, but she wasn't abandoning him either.
Interesting.
They landed with a heavy thud on a bed. The variant quickly scrambled to retrieve the TemPad that had fallen during the fall. As she held it, the device emitted a mocking electronic tone.
"You're outta juice," it announced in a cheerful voice.
"It's not working," she mumbled, frantically tapping at the screen.
Tyson pushed himself up, looking around. "Where are we?"
"I don't know. I just selected the first available option."
He surveyed the space, taking in the circular structure. It looked like a tent or yurt.
"Camping trip?" Tyson asked.
Lady Loki pocketed the depleted TemPad and moved toward the entrance. She pushed aside the heavy fabric and stepped outside. Tyson followed close behind.
The landscape that greeted them was jagged rock formations jutting from barren ground. The terrain stretched out, rocky and inhospitable, with sparse vegetation clinging desperately to life in the crevices between stones.
But it was the sky that commanded attention. A vast purple expanse dominated by a gigantic moon that hung impossibly close, taking up nearly a quarter of the visible sky. Its surface was cratered and scored with luminous fracture lines. Smaller moons, or maybe fractured chunks, seemed trapped in its orbit. The sight was both beautiful and terrifying.
Tyson watched as a piece of the giant moon, easily the size of a city block, visibly broke away with agonizing slowness. From this distance, it appeared to drift, but he wasn't sure if that was an optical illusion of scale. The air tasted wrong. Thin, cold, with an acrid quality that suggested the atmosphere was already being stripped away by gravitational forces.
Purple light bathed everything, giving the landscape an alien quality that drove home how far from anything familiar they were. This wasn't just another planet. This was a world in its death throes, tearing itself apart in slow motion.
It was exactly how he remembered from the show.
Perfect. Everything was still following the script.
Lady Loki stared up at the massive moon, her face draining of color. "Oh no, this is Lamentis-1."
"An apocalypse, I assume," Tyson said. "Hey, if you don't want to be called Loki, what's your name then? I'm definitely not calling you Randy again, no matter how many times you ask."
"Of all the apocalypses saved on that TemPad, this is the worst! No one makes it off here." She kicked at a nearby rock, sending it skittering across the barren ground. The frustration in the gesture was palpable, the reality of their situation settling over her like the dust from the shattered moon above. She looked back at him.
"Sylvie."
Tyson looked from the fractured moon back to the variant. "Okay, Sylvie. If this is the worst apocalypse, why did you have it on speed dial?"
Sylvie turned back to the fractured moon, her expression hard. "Because nobody would look for me here. The TVA knows this apocalypse. They've documented it. Everyone dies. No exceptions, no survivors, no possibility of rescue." She laughed bitterly. "It was my insurance policy. If I were ever cornered, truly cornered with no other option, I'd come here."
"Except we just did exactly that," Tyson pointed out.
"Yes. Thank you for that observation." She kicked another rock, watching it skip across the barren ground before disappearing into a crevice. "The TemPad's dead. We can't call for help, not that the TVA would come. And in..." she squinted up at the moon, doing calculations, "approximately twelve hours, this planet's going to get hit."
Tyson had faced death before. Multiple times. But there was something uniquely terrible about watching it approach with such certainty. No fighting this. No clever tricks. Just physics and time running out.
"So," he said finally. "We should probably figure out how not to die here."