[Westview, New Jersey. S.W.O.R.D. Response Base. Day 3.]
The perimeter was buzzing. Tents, Humvees, and mobile labs surrounded the sleepy town of Westview. Or rather, they surrounded the massive, invisible energy field that had swallowed the town.
Inside the command tent, Dr. Darcy Lewis was eating a bag of chips and staring at an old CRT television.
"I still can't believe it," Darcy mumbled, crumbs falling on her console. "It's a sitcom. A literal 1950s sitcom."
On the screen, Wanda Maximoff (in a poodle skirt) was using telekinesis to float plates onto a table. Vision (in a suit and tie) was phasing through a wall. The laugh track played.
"It's not possible," Agent Jimmy Woo adjusted his glasses. "Vision is dead. We verified the body at S.W.O.R.D. headquarters two weeks ago."
"Well, tell that to the TV," Darcy pointed. "Because he just made a pun about toast."
[The Perimeter]
Director Hayward walked to the edge of the barrier. The energy field crackled with static.
"Director!" A soldier yelled. "We have a bogey! Sector 4. Someone is walking toward the barrier."
"Is it a civilian?" Hayward asked, grabbing his binoculars.
"No, sir. He... he doesn't read on thermal. He's cold."
Hayward looked through the lenses.
Walking out of the woods, dressed in a pristine black tailcoat despite the muddy terrain, was a tall, pale man. He walked with a purpose that made the armed guards nervous.
"Hold fire," Hayward lowered the binoculars. "I know that coat. That's Stark's guy. The Avenger."
[The Meeting]
Sebastian Michaelis stopped ten feet from the barrier. He could feel it. The hum. The thrumming, unstable vibration of Chaos Magic.
It tasted like strawberries and rot. Sweet, but decaying.
"Halt!" Hayward approached him, flanked by guards. "Mr. Michaelis. This is a restricted area."
Sebastian didn't look at him. He looked at the barrier.
"Director Hayward," Sebastian said, his voice smooth but lacking its usual playful lilt. "You have a very large problem. It smells... red."
"We're handling it," Hayward said defensively. "What are you doing here? The Avengers are disbanded."
"I am not an Avenger," Sebastian turned his red eyes to Hayward. "I am a tourist. I am looking for the Scarlet Witch."
"She's in there," Jimmy Woo ran up, holding a tablet. "Sebastian! Hey! Remember me? Ant-Man's parole officer? We met at the... uh... funeral."
Sebastian nodded once. "Agent Woo."
"She's taken the town hostage," Hayward interrupted. "She's dangerous."
"She is grieving," Sebastian corrected. "There is a difference."
Sebastian walked past them, toward the command tent. No one dared to stop him. He entered the tent and looked at the wall of monitors.
He saw the sitcom. He saw the black-and-white living room.
And then, he saw him.
The Synthezoid. Vision. Alive. Smiling. Making breakfast.
Sebastian froze. His gloved hands clenched into fists.
"He is dead," Sebastian whispered. "I watched Thanos rip the stone from his head. I saw the color drain from his chassis."
"We know," Darcy said softly. "But... there he is."
Sebastian stepped closer to the screen. He studied the image. Was it an illusion? A hologram? Or...
Resurrection.
If Wanda Maximoff could rewrite reality to bring a machine back to life... could she do it for a man? Could she reach into the void and pull Tony Stark back?
A dangerous, desperate hope ignited in Sebastian's chest. For the first time in months, he felt hunger. Not for a soul, but for a possibility.
"I am going in," Sebastian announced.
"You can't," Hayward stepped in front of him. "We sent an agent in. She turned into a beekeeper. The barrier rewrites everything on a molecular level to fit the 'era'. If you go in, you might forget who you are."
Sebastian smiled. It was a terrifying expression.
"Director, I have walked through the depths of Hell. I have endured the vacuum of space. Do you truly believe a television program can rewrite me?"
He turned to the barrier.
"Besides," Sebastian straightened his tie. "I have always been fond of the classics."
He walked toward the red wall of static.
"Wait!" Darcy yelled. "At least take a radio!"
Sebastian didn't stop. He reached out a gloved hand. He touched the barrier.
It rippled like water. It grabbed him. It tried to rewrite his clothes, his mind, his very atoms.
Sebastian resisted. He flared his demonic aura, a shield of black shadow against the red chaos.
But the Chaos Magic was strong. It was infinite.
Sebastian was pulled through.
[Inside the Hex]
The world spun. Color drained away. The aspect ratio changed from 16:9 to 4:3.
Sebastian stumbled onto a paved street.
He looked down. His tailcoat was gone.
He was wearing a classic 1950s tuxedo. His hair was slicked back with pomade. The air smelled of hairspray and pot roast.
He stood in the middle of a suburban cul-de-sac.
A woman with curly hair walked by, pushing a stroller. "Good afternoon, neighbor!"
Sebastian blinked. He checked his mind. His memories were... fuzzy. But they were there. The contract. The death. The hope.
He had made it through. He was in the sitcom.
And across the street, at Number 2800, he saw the house.
[End of Chapter 51]
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