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semi-occasionally-writing-stuff · 4 years

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Of Bullets & Blood - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Summary

C.C. Tinsley. A preacher’s son. Now a bounty hunter who will do whatever it takes to find who killed his wife and son.

Ricky Goldsworth. A former samurai running from his past. Now a bounty hunter trying to stay honourable in a land riddled with crime.

At first glance, these men were opposites in every way. However, through betrayal, blood, corruption, and the crimes of a serial killer, they will find that they have much more in common than they first expected.

Western/Samurai AU!

Chapter 2 - The Meeting of Two Minds

C.C. Tinsley was not a patient man. If there was a job the needed to be done, he would do it straight away using the method that would guarantee his success and survival. This general rule could at times cause him to make ruthless decisions in his line of work, but this didn’t bother him much. He had abandoned his principles a long time ago.

So, when he entered the Sheriff’s office and spotted a bounty of $50 for Billy Nelson aka the Axeman, he would be a fool not to take it.

“I know that poster says dead or alive Tinsley, but I’d like to see if you’re capable of bringing a bounty in without pulling the trigger or leaving a pile of dead bodies,” Goondis drawled.

Goondis never approved of Tinsley’s methods. Although the man never broke the law, he was reckless in his eyes and did the job without an ounce of honour or respect. Turning in one too many criminals with gunshot wounds to the back of their bodies told him everything he needed to know.

“Don’t know why you’re getting all upset. You’re just going to hang the man anyway. You should be thankful that I’m saving you a job,” Tinsley answered as he pocketed the poster and walked out. He then got on his horse and rode straight for Nelson’s house, he didn’t want to give other bounty hunters any time to get there first.

Tinsley had been doing this job for 5 years. He knew that if you gave people a chance in this line of work, they’d only turn and stab you in the back. This often meant that if you wanted to see tomorrow, then it was best to act before they had the chance to think of their next move. It had built him a reputation, sometimes it helped but other times it made jobs much bloodier than they needed to be.

By the time Ricky arrived at the Sheriff’s office, Goondis was polishing his rifle with a sour look on his face.

“Get your ass to Macombe’s End and bring Nelson in. Quickly,” he grumbled as he tossed to poster to Ricky.

“Is there a problem, sir?”

“C.C. Tinsley rode off to take him in a few minutes ago. He’s been taking bounties for years, but I don’t trust the man. He’s ruthless, disrespectful and a coward. Won’t be too surprised if I find out that he’s killing all the dead or alive bounties in cold blood. I’ve never received so many with bullet holes in their backs, a real man would look them in the eye” Goondis spat.

Ricky nodded, making a mental note to watch his back when he went for Nelson. From the way the Sheriff spoke about him, he wouldn’t be too surprised if Tinsley shot him in the back just so he could be the one to take the Axeman in.

With this in mind, Ricky rode to the outskirts of Macombe’s End and slowly walked towards the house, scanning every possible ambush spot as he was expecting to be shot at any second.

Tinsley was also expecting a surprise attack of sorts but didn’t quite anticipate the swing of an axe knocking the gun out of his hand as he rounded the corner into the Axeman’s living room.

“Well, shit Nelson! You better not have scratched that! I don’t want to be paying for it using your bounty money, I have better things to spend it on,” Tinsley exclaimed, panic levels slowly rising as he saw that the man was so much bigger than him.

Nelson grabbed Tinsley by the throat and lifted him off the ground, “You won’t need to worry about that. I’m thinking about doing some redecorating. A nice decapitated head on the porch should look nice, don’t you think?”

“It’s a bit extreme, a rocking chair would look much nicer you know? But then again, I’m not too sure what the Bigfoot race use to decorate their homes or… Jesus when was the last time you washed?” Tinsley wheezed as he tried to pry his hands from his neck.

Tinsley realised that may not have been the smartest thing to say in his position, but he’d be damned if he never antagonised the killer that parted his head from his body.

“How ‘bout we take this outside?” Nelson snarled.

Tinsley barely had enough time to respond before he was thrown head first through the living room window and landed roughly on the wooden porch. Pain blossomed from his head and shoulder and then quickly spread into his neck and through his back. Hearing Nelson’s footsteps get louder, he grabbed the wooden railing and hauled himself back onto his feet.

Nelson rounded the corner with his axe wearing a snarl on his face. Before Tinsley could throw another insult, Nelson swept his axe to the side, trying to cut Tinsley’s head off from where he stood. Tinsley leapt back at the last second and watched as the axe embedded itself into the cabin’s wall, splinters flying everywhere.

Tinsley realised he needed to find a way back into the house to get his gun. He ungracefully scrambled over the railing, caught his foot at the top and fell straight into the dirt.

“Not my proudest moment,” Tinsley mumbled to himself as he started to pick himself up.

But before he could, a sharp pain exploded in his left side and he was thrown over onto his back. Tinsley’s heart dropped as he saw Nelson standing over him with a wicked smile.

“You’re right, a rocking chair with your decapitated body holding your head in your hands would look nice. Thanks for the tip,” he chuckled as he swung back his axe, but before he brought the axe down, a voice rung out.

“Turn around and fight me!” Ricky yelled as he drew his katana.

Tinsley and Nelson exchanged a confused look before he slowly lowered his axe.

“The fuck are you doing?” Tinsley yelled, completely baffled to why a man would bring a sword to an axe fight when a gun would end things so much quicker.

Ricky ignored the bearded stranger, solely focusing on the Axeman and his movements, “Get off the man, and face me. Or are you too much of a coward?”

Nelson laughed in surprise. Out of all the people he expected to turn up, he could not have imagined a man in a simple shirt and trousers holding a katana commanding him to fight.

“Alright then. Let’s jazz it!” he yelled as he stepped over Tinsley.

Now Tinsley could do the smart thing and let this crazy stranger fight Nelson, which might give him enough time to grab his gun. However, he could not push the doubt away. The man was small. To him there was a good chance that he’d be taken down before Tinsley was able to hobble his way over back into the house. Even then Tinsley didn’t want some poor fools death on his conscience.

So instead he settled on a bad idea and kicked Nelson in the nuts as he stepped over him, causing him to fall straight onto the floor. Ignoring how his body protested, Tinsley climbed on top of the man and punched him as hard as he could, feeling his nose crunch under his fist. But before he could hit him again, Nelson flipped Tinsley over onto his back, leaning over him.

“I’ve really had quite enough at this,” he spat.

Ricky shook off his surprise at how stupid Tinsley was being and quickly ran over to the pair. He made eye contact with Nelson for a split second, his eyes widening in surprise and panic, he knew he was out numbered and was growing desperate. He reached for his axe, but Ricky’s boot swiftly met the side of Nelson’s head, knocking him out instantly.

Tinsley rolled Nelson off him, sighed in relief and let his head thump against the dirt, “That was a bit theatrical, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps, nobody is dead at least…you okay friend?”

“We ain’t friends,” Tinsley drawled

Ricky sheathed his katana, “Then what are we?”

Tinsley slowly picked himself off the floor. He noted that the floor was slightly swaying beneath him, pain was still running down from his head to his shoulder, which was most certainly going to be bruised later and there was a dull ache in the side of his hip.

“I don’t know, a couple of assholes maybe?”

“Speak for yourself.”

Tinsley sighed as he walked back into the house, careful not to show any sign that he was finding it difficult to stand and walk properly. He gingerly picked up his silver revolver and leaned against the door frame, observing the stranger as he checked his gun.

“Okay. An asshole and a stuck-up prick, how ‘bout that?”

Ricky smirked; he had met too many men like him back home. They usually ended up dead, “You are trying to make me angry, but all I feel right now is a strong sense of pity. Goondis was right about you.”

Tinsley’s jaw tightened and felt a wave of anger flow through him. He could deal with pre-conceived judgements on his character, he had learned to use them to his advantage, but pity is something he had grown to despise ever since his mother passed when he was a child.

“And what was he right about?”

“You’re a cold, aggressive man without honour.”

Tinsley laughed bitterly, “Being honourable is a good way to get killed. I have folk that I need to deal with before I can lie 6 ft underground.”

“And what kind of folk would that be?”

“Bad ones. You try fighting a beast with honour and see how well you do. I guarantee you’ll have your throat ripped out before you’re even finished commanding it to fight you. Why didn’t you cut that bastard in half when you had the chance?”

“It wasn’t right to. I also didn’t want to ruin your brown coat with his blood, despite all the dirt that it’s covered in already.”

“Aww, how considerate of you. You say that to all the men?” Tinsley crooned.

Ricky blushed and tried to suppress the smile that was tugging at his lips. Instead deciding to distract himself and started to tie the axeman up.

Tinsley could tell he was new at this, naïve and filled with a sense of duty, “So sword man-”

“It’s a katana.”

“Whatever it is, frankly, I don’t really care. I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name?”

“Ricky Goldsworth. I can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ricky answered, crossing his arms across his chest.

Tinsley grimaced as he carefully walked from the house down to Ricky. He gripped his gun a little tighter “Likewise. So, since I was here first, I’m taking him in. You can have 15% if you beg for it.”

“I don’t beg. Take him and keep the money, I’ll come with you to make sure he is delivered alive,” Ricky exhaled, not fully convinced that Tinsley wouldn’t just shoot Nelson before he brought him to the Sheriff.

“Fine…but you’re staying at least 10 paces in front of me. I don’t feel like getting stabbed today,” he grunted as they whistled for their horses.

The ride to the Sheriff’s office was silent. Both of the men keeping an eye on one another. Expecting some sort of attack.

They tied up their horses outside and Tinsley hauled the man off his horse and onto his good shoulder.

“I’ll wait here, make sure our horses are okay” Ricky said as he got some food out of his horse’s bag.

“If you steal my horse, I will fucking shoot you Goldsworth.”

Ricky rolled his eyes, “Good to know. Stealing an Arabian horse with such skinny legs sounds like a great idea, especially when they break so easily.”

Tinsley started walking up to the Sheriff’s office, “Their legs won’t break if you don’t ride like an irresponsible maniac, makes sense that you have a Shire. Matches your reckless will to get yourself axed.”

He kicked the door open and threw Nelson down by the entrance to the cells, “You order an Axeman?”

Goondis jumped up from his chair, expecting blood to be oozing onto his floorboards and inspected the man, feeling his pulse, “He’s alive?!”

“Yes. I’ve brought you live ones before, granted the poster said they had to be to get paid.”

Goondis slowly shook his head in disbelief, “I’m not giving you the money.”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t capture this man,” Goondis growled.

“What makes you say that?”

“You would’ve brought me a corpse if you had!”

“Do you want me to take him out back and shoot him? I’d happily do that for you as long as I get my $50,” Tinsley challenged.

It was quiet for a moment. Both of them staring at one another. Waiting for someone to break. After a moment Tinsley took a step forward towards Nelson and the Sheriff relented.

He took the money out of his drawer and threw it at him, “Fine. Take your damn money and get the hell out.”

“Oh, don’t be so angry Sheriff, you know you’ll have fun hanging him. I’ve seen that look in many killers’ eyes. We both know you are not the saint that you pretend to be.”

The Sheriff reminded Tinsley too much of his father who was a preacher in Texas. After his mother died, his father would wear a kind and warm façade when standing in front of God but at home he was a vengeful and angry drunk. But with the Sheriff, there was also more to it than that. Every time there was a hanging. As soon as the neck snapped. He could see a how much he enjoyed watching people die. To him, the Sheriff pretended to be a good man. He was just as bad as the people he put away.

Goondis sighed and shook his head, “I never claimed to be a saint and I certainly do not enjoy watching those poor souls die. But I do what I have to do to keep people safe and these fine folks clearly trust me since I’ve been in this position longer than you can count. It is my duty to bring people to justice. But I know that the concept of duty is lost on you since you are only motivated by the money. Now, stop running your mouth and get the hell out my office.”

Tinsley smirked and started to leave, a part of him enjoyed seeing the man trying to force him to believe the trustworthy image he projects, “You can’t fool everyone, Sheriff. The truth will come out sooner or later.”

After the door shut on the Sheriff, he let out a sigh of relief. Goondis knew what had happened to Tinsley’s wife and son. Even 5 years on there were still theories being passed around about who did it. Most people believed Tinsley had lost his temper and killed them himself. The Sheriff was inclined to agree with them. Goondis was afraid that Tinsley would use his gun as a problem solver to either end his own life or gun him down in cold blood.

Ricky had just finished brushing Tinsley’s horse as he limped down the stairs. He noticed that Tinsley was tense and had a slightly crazed look in his eye.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Perfectly fine. How’s my wonderful horse Holly doing?” Tinsley hummed as he patted the side of her face.

“She’s great. You seem to take good care of her.”

Tinsley nodded and climbed onto his saddle, “She’s the only one who’d say that.”

Ricky raised an eyebrow, “She also told me you stink of horse shit.”

“Fuck you. I hope to never see you again Goldsworth, you’re a pain in the ass.”

Ricky nodded, noting that he looked much more relaxed now, “I kind of saved your life so how about a thank you next time.”

Tinsley paused, considering his options for a moment. However, he refused to give him the satisfaction, “How ‘bout no.”

Tinsley then rode off towards own his camp in the woods. Leaving Ricky to get hit by the chunks of mud that his horse kicked behind her.

As Tinsley stoked his fire that evening. He tried to figure Goldsworth out. Every time he came across another bounty hunter after he caught the criminal, they’d try to blow his brains out and steal the bounty themselves. The fact he escorted him back to town without trying anything was suspicious. He was convinced Ricky Goldsworth was up to something and hoped he didn’t cross paths with him again.

But Tinsley had been alive long enough to know things never go the way he wanted them to.

#cc tinsley #ricky goldsworth #tinsworth #bfu

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swiftwind3 · 5 years

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Everything We Lost

ao3 link here

Ahem endgame who

So, Infinity War destroyed my crops, murdered my family and spat in my face. So, I tried relieving myself with this sadkdfkshs. I don’t read the comics so,,,beware you hardcore ultras.

Also disappointment about how no one's torn The Winter Soldier theme from CATWS apart FNAF style is ruining my life as well. Heavy dialogue (i think) and lots of hyphens lmaoo. Enjoy. and don’t plagiarize of course

Summary: Bucky wakes up in the Soul Stone.

Insp: Nothing Lasts by Taska Black ft. Pauline Herr

Back to the other end, when we fell down

We could not believe we would lose it all

Now the dreams are gone, and faith has drowned

Everything we lost and we never found

Uh, Steve…?

Bucky had been expecting one of two things: either the scorching flames of punishment and retribution or the gentle white of warmth and peace, maybe even forgiveness. Definitely not orange. Definitely not a reflective, watery floor under a similarly hued sky that radiated a gnawing hunger and desolation. At least, that was the aura this realm gave off to him.

The sky was full of arriving ashes. They swirl and plummet, becoming people. So many people. So much noise.

The crowd swells around him, people flickering in and out of sight like glitching ghosts. Some cry while hugging themselves. Others stare at their limbs; Bucky having done the same once he stood up. Their cries and shouts drill into his head, and for a weird minute, he thought he was in Hell.

"Cassie, where—Cassie!"

"Darcy! Jane!"

"Bill? Bill, what's happened—where are you?"

"Harley?"

"Excuse me—"

Before he can start his own calls, he whirls to face an elderly woman.

Like him, she seems dazed, eyes wide and watery.

"I'm looking for my husband, I—"

He chokes on a scream. She dissolves into ash, his own being following suit.

There's no description for being pushed out of existence, but that's how he would word it.

Time freezes, and it was like he didn't have to breathe, he couldn't. He couldn't see, or hear, or feel and it felt bad. But how could he be sure of that if he couldn't feel at all? Yet, in a split second, it was seemingly…over. He stands, palpable as ever. He almost heaves over the poor woman, holding her slash leaning on her.

"My God," she wheezes. "What was that?"

"I'm…not sure. But, sorry about that," he shakes his head. "What, uh—does your husband look like?”

Stuttering, she catches her breath. Her eyes flick past him and widen. "Ava!"

A younger woman bursts through the crowd, spinning almost comically. "Yes? Bill?"

The elder woman raises her arm and the girl freezes, recognition steadying her face. "Van Dyne..."

The woman looks her over frantically. "Are you okay? Are you alright? Are you in any pain?"

"No, not exactly. What's happening?"

"I'm not...sure."

"Janet," an elderly man shoves through, held by a young woman. “Janet!”

"Mom?"

"Hank! Jellybean," she cries. Before bolting, she places a hand over Bucky's. "Found them. Thank you."

He tries his best to smile. "No problem."

Ducking his head, he tries to move away, eyeing the sky, the people.

Ashes clump and disassemble, and he remains silent, calling no one. He only stares as he pushes through the groups of people, tripping to a stop before he ran over a poor man as he plummeted just in front of him. Muttering a few 'excuse mes', the world seems to shift. Again, his being, along with everyone else, crumbles into ash. His lungs disappear, and he chokes in momentary oblivion.

Yelping makes him spin.

A girl falls to her knees next to him, her voice hoarse. “What—what—no—what’s—Brother?"

Bucky’s stomach vanishes. “Princess.”

Large, wet eyes snap up to him, revealing the stricken face of Shuri Udaku.

“Bucky?”

Her orange blouse almost camouflages with the light, torn in a few spots. Her trembling hand rises, and he meets it, helping her up.

They hold each other as they crumble into nothingness. When they reform, she sobs.

“What is happening? What is going on?”

“I don’t know,” he rubs her back gently. “Are you okay?”

“No, I—I’m sorry—this is all—insane,” she hiccups. “First, those things got in while I was working on Vision and I got hit, so I pretended to stay down—”

“Wait, they got to Vision?”

Her head shakes. “He—he escaped. I shut down the extraction. I couldn’t get it out in time. My guards couldn’t take the—the thing that got to us and I had to leave it in. I tried fighting back, but I got hit. I heard the window shatter—and then, when I tried hiding, everyone started turning into this and—”

She jumps at him again with a cry.

Silence rings in their minds, the whisper of air hissing in their ears as they resurface. Falling back down into actuality, they gasp for air.

“We really need to get out of here,” they chorus.

With a wet chuckle, she holds his left hand. “Are you okay? I’m sorry—there’s…a lot going on.”

“Yeah, I’m having trouble processing all this, too,” he glances around. “And I’m…okay. For the most part. Got blown back by Thanos, but I lived.”

She nods with a hum, turning his hand. “Working okay?”

He smiles, squeezing her hand lightly. “Perfect. Even…wherever the Hell this is.”

As the ashes rise around them, he tries to hold them both together, failing spectacularly. But as they came back together, he accidentally made them stumble back into someone.

"Man, watch where you're going..."

He wheezes, red goggles and a flight vest intruding his vision. "Wilson?"

“Falcon,” Shuri’s grip is tight.

Dark eyes brighten. "Princess. Barnes," Sam pants. "Just my luck. Guess this is Hell. Well, maybe not since she’s here, but."

Bucky smirks. "Too bad. Was really looking forward to take a dip in a lake of sulfur.”

"Hilarious—"

The air hisses into a deafening silence as they fell apart again. They tried latching to each other, ice overriding their senses as they dissipated in one another's grasp.

The cluster of people phases and glitches. With a crack, their forms break into ashes and reassemble hauntingly.

"Man, what the hell is going on?" Sam stumbles into him. Shuri helps steadying him as he hugs himself for a moment, rubbing his arms roughly. "What the hell is this place?"

"Beats me," he grits.

“It’s not Earth, I think.” Shuri trembles. “I don’t have any of my scanners on me—”

She gasps, whirling. They crane their necks just as the air hissed and hacked above again. Ashes rose, voices becoming distant. Snapping back into arrangement, two women in red appeared before them.

A Dora Milaje holds the hand of another collapsed, young woman, shouting into the air.

"Ayo," Bucky and Shuri chorus.

The warrior turns, startled.

"White Wolf, Falcon—Princess!"

The young woman on the ground peers dejectedly over her shoulder, conceding to Ayo's pulling.

They speed to each other, staring warily at the sky.

"Well, I'm not quite sure if it is safe to say that I'm glad to see you here," Ayo addresses, dried tear tracks on her face. She cups Shuri’s face, bringing her in for an embrace.

"Well," Sam glances around. "It's not exactly Hell, so I think we're safe. You haven’t found Banner or anybody else?"

“Yeah, maybe he could tell us where this is.” Bucky nods. “Or what is this.”

"We are far from that," the young woman's voice is thick. "Hell, that is. And Banner’s…not here."

"Maximoff," Sam says gently. "You know what it does?"

"I know some of what it can do. This is the Soul Stone. I'm closer to the Mind Stone, but I know that this," she lightly spins her hand, churning ashes. "Is just the start of its work."

"In any case, I don't want to be here when it finishes its warm-up, " Ayo snorts. She turns and lets out another call, listening, hoping.

"What else can it do?" Sam leans forward.

"Nothing,” she shrugs. “At least, I think that’s it. The Soul Stone grants its user control over all souls in the Universe. We’re inside the pocket dimension inside it. Like a storage facility.”

"Got it," he says. "Anything on Vision?"

She flinches. "He’s…his consciousness is in the Mind Stone. He won't be anywhere in here."

"So, this is the Soul Stone. It eats souls basically," Bucky provides. "And it’s not going to use us to amplify its power or anything, right?"

"That’s the Power Stone," she shrugs again, weakly. “And…it might. Using our souls to amplify the other Stones’ powers doesn’t sound too absurd.”

He sighs through his nose. She’s lost a lot. All of them have, and he lets his heart ache momentarily.

The tired, perplexed look on Steve face flashes across his mind and he blinks it away.

“Don’t give it any ideas, Barnes.” Sam mumbles.

Bucky hears it, along with the manic whispers of some guy walking behind him.

“It’s okay, Sebastian. You just got a little bit too drunk. God, I just hope I don’t get mugged…”

He wishes he could live with that level of ignorance, for a little while longer anyway. His desire got swept away as a blobby…elf…person landed tripped beside him and immediately stumbled to its feet, resuming its foreign yelling.

"Well, one thing's for sure. This ain't no afterlife." Sam stares after it. "Pretty sure all languages would be mutually intelligible under Father God's roof."

“So, we know what’s happening,” Shuri hugs herself. “But the only why I can think of is…the worst.”

Wanda rubs her eyes. “Yeah. It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

All of them flinch when a wave of ash crashes above them, assembling into human shapes.

“O Great Bast,” Ayo almost doubles over. “We’ve lost.”

"Okay, okay, but let’s keep it together,” Sam goes to help her. “If Thanos did this with the gauntlet, then I’m assuming the only way to reverse it is doing the same thing. But…I don’t how he did this.”

“He snapped his fingers,” Wanda glared at her watery reflection. “I saw him do it. Thor landed his ax in his chest, but the bastard was still alive and—"

They freeze at the sound of roaring and trumpets filling the air and Bucky frowns at the massive cloud above.

"Wanda,” Bucky utters. “When you said all souls—”

Shuri follows his gaze. “Oh, Bast.”

“No,” Sam breathes. “Is that—are those—"

Bucky snatches Shuri, practically tearing Sam’s arm off. “Move, move, move!”

Animals fall from the ashes.

People scream and scatter.

With red light at her fingers, Wanda dissuades the lions, wolves, bears, hippos, and cassowaries that run too close. Elephants were the most obvious, and the roars from lions and tigers were loud enough to tell anyone where not to run.

She and Ayo run at a crowd, the water rippling from the stampede of horses and wildebeests people parted to let through.

“Make a force field,” Ayo yelled. “Sayefa! Sayefa!”

“I’m tired, you know,” a wall of red still rises, her face wincing. “I might hurt them…”

“They might hurt us,” Sam pants behind them, rolling his shoulder before clutching his knees. “Almost tore my arm off…”

“Sorry,” Bucky sets Shuri down.

"It's raining cats and dogs," his voice breaks with a bitter wheeze, gaping at the cascade of hooves around them. "Man, this place is something else."

As more people and animals appear, Bucky feels the air.

It’s not becoming...crowded. There definitely are a lot of people here, but there's also a lot of space. Too much.

A series of distant trills rise into the air, echoing.

"Sayefa! Ha hoo! Sayefa! Ha hoo!"

Shuri gasps, whirling as Ayo lets out a sharp sigh. "Oh, thank Bast.”

“Wakandaaa!"

"Sayefa! Ha hoo! Sayefa! Ha hoo!"

Bucky stumbles back as the atmosphere snaps again. His ashes fly in a brief, stormy sea.

The neighing and groaning of the animals was distant, as if he were underwater. And then, the roaring of humans was loud enough to startle him back into clarity.

Wanda and Sam flank him firmly. Wanda's hand grips his arm, face pale, perturbed.

Ayo wanders out of the shield as they see T'Challa emerging from a crowd, his warriors, along with some Jabari, following closely.

With a holler from T’Challa, a group of them charged, blanket shields flickering. Together, using nothing but their bodies and voices, they herd the poor beasts into small groups.

A few mares, foals, and stallions break away, only to be met with more men and Dora Milaje. Even the hollering of some civilians rises into the air as they seemed to join them. Expertly, they dodge both species’ bucking and rearing, their shouts scattering as they corralled them.

Crowds of people cheer and clap from a distance, relief warming Bucky’s chest.

The King commands, “Yibambe!”

“Yibambe,” they all echo.

“Yibambe!”

Shuri bolts in his direction and Bucky barely makes out the King’s soft, “Oh, no.”

"My King," Ayo calls, tailing the Princess.

T'Challa takes them for a brief embrace, and Bucky hears the clicks of isiXhosa.

"You fought well, Dora. You fought well for me and your country. We must now regroup. Find out what we can do. Be strong. Bast’s presence and power reside in me still. However, it feels...different. She is closer, but She is farther."

"Do not lose Her, Your Highness," Ayo pleads. Her arms cross over her chest, head bowed.

"Your Highness," Sam holds out his hand.

"I am not quite sure if I am glad to see some familiar faces in this place," T'Challa takes their hands in a strong shake. "But I suppose it tells us what we all feared," he looks around, face saddening at the sight of his warriors. "We have lost. And we are in a place beyond our current understanding."

"I am Groot," an odd, tree stump-like head appears behind him. It blinks at them with large, dark eyes.

Bucky was sure he'd seen it all after spinning a bipedal raccoon like Julie Andrews on the mountains to shoot a barrage of aliens. Said raccoon trying to buy his gun and his arm afterward. But now, he was completely sure he was done. Apparently, the talking tree from Pocahontas was real, too.

"And here is something else beyond my understanding," T'Challa sighs. "I don't know what it's saying."

"I am Groot," it seems to complain.

“Yep,” nods Sam. “Not an afterlife.”

“Wow, Brother,” Shuri smiles wetly. “You were meeting aliens without me? That’s unfair. Hello, Groot?”

"I am Groot," The tree nods at her and proceeds to poke T'Challa's suit. "I am Groot."

"Uh, it is vibranium,” the siblings chorus. “It is a very strong metal."

The tree points at Bucky. "I am Groot?"

"That is vibranium as well," the king's lip twitches.

"I am Groot," it taps his suit, gesturing and shrugging. "I am Groot. I am Groot." It looks at Bucky again, pointing at its own arm. "I am Groot?"

Bucky's head shakes. "I'm sorry?"

"I am Groot?"

"I'm sorry—your name is...Groot?"

The tree face deadpans at him. And he has to stomp on the embarrassment as everyone else also throws him blank looks.

The tree roars, "I am Groot!"

Sam pushes his shoulder. "Man, stop pissing off the tree alien!"

"Don't touch me—look, I don't know what it's saying, I just wanted to make sure—"

"I am Groot," Groot sighs exasperatedly. "I am Groot." It points at his arm and Sam's wings. "I am Groot. I am Groot."

"I'm—I'm Bucky." Confusion trickles through him.

The stump head shakes. "I am Groot. I am Groot. I—am—Groot."

"He's warning you about your arm and your wings," Wanda blinks with a small frown. She steps away, breathing shakily. "He says Rocket will try to buy and steal them."

"I am Groot,” it—he, apparently—gasps. “I am Groot—I am Groot!"

"I am, but this landscape is—it's amorphous. They could be at the very ends of it for all we know. I can't even sense how far it reaches."

The tree sags. "I am Groot..."

"Who the hell's Rocket?" asks Sam.

"The raccoon," it clicks in Bucky's head. "We helped each other out a while ago. And," he takes a breath. "He already tried."

Groot shakes his head again. He seemed to be smiling with what Bucky thinks is fondness. "I am Groot."

Sam gives him a glare he'd gotten used to. "Think I missed you fighting aliens with a rodent."

He shrugs. "Fine. Don't believe me."

"I am Groot," Groot chastises.

"Not a rodent, " Wanda's lips twitch. "Got it."

The air shakes violently and they cling to each other.

"I am Groot," he shrieks. "I am Groot!"

"I wouldn't want to die a second death either," she grits. "But—"

Around them, the shape of people flickers briefly, ash crashing in waves. They break and fall apart. And when they come back, on the watery surface, a small pagoda appears in the middle of them all, a rectangular, shimmering, translucent wall encasing it.

"What now?" Sam growls.

"There's…someone there," Bucky narrows his eyes.

Wanda leans forward. "A little—girl?"

"I am Groot? I am Groot! I am Groot!"

"’It’s Gamora’?" She stutters. "Who’s Gamora?"

Ash falls, and then, people were in front of the structure, yelling the name inside. A man's yell rises above the rest.

"Gamora—Gamora, it's me! It's Quill! Sweetheart, please..."

"Quill, you will not get to her," a woman with large eyes and antennae pulls on his arm. "There's too much pain—I can't do anything about it!"

"Mantis, come on, please—"

The little girl only stays with her back turned to them.

And then, Groot was yelling and running. "I am Groot! I am Groooot!"

"Groot," a larger man turns.

At least, Bucky thinks it’s a man.

Biped, broad, skin color wasn’t human though. Different culture, maybe?

Regardless, that man spins, looking in all directions. Red eyes land on the running flora-alien and his hand rises, pointing in their direction.

"Groooot!"

Wanda starts at a fast pace. T'Challa shouts an order to his soldiers and keeps pace with her as Shuri, Bucky and Sam follow.

"The large man," Wanda sniffs. "Is Drax. The woman is Mantis. And the man is Quill."

"And the other dude in red?" Sam cranes his neck.

"He didn't say."

"What dude?" Bucky frowns.

"He's," Sam stutters. "I just saw—man, this place is messing with my tech, too! There was another guy. Right there…Princess, do you think you check these out? I know you don’t have tools or whatever, but maybe you can figure out the wiring maybe?”

“Uh, sure,” Shuri squints as his goggles, pouting slightly. “How come you got to keep your tech…”

"Sorry,” his lip twitches. “I don’t know. But I guess we got more allies?"

Bucky shrugs again.

"Let us hope so," T'Challa says.

Groot sprints ahead of them. "I am Groot! I am Groot!"

Quill spins, sprinting with Drax and Mantis. "Groot? Oh, my God!"

"Groooot!"

Bucky relaxes his fist as Groot collides with them in a large embrace. Their questions drown each other's, and it occurs to him that this was a family.

"My God, what happened—"

"—I am Groot—"

"—Are you okay—"

"—Where is Thor—"

"—What about Rocket—"

"I am Groot! I am Groot!" Groot sobs, clinging to the man Wanda called Quill.

"Man," he breathes. "What the hell is happening?"

"That's the million-dollar question," Bucky says.

Quill looks up and narrows his eyes. He glances between him and the rest as they approach, a faint recognition lighting up his face.

"Quill, right?" Sam tries, sticking out his hand. The man eyes it for a moment before eyeing his goggles. "Name's Falcon. I also go by Sam."

The man in the red coat peers over his group and the woman Bucky noted was Mantis smiles, nodding.

With another quick once-over, he takes Sam's hand. “Yeah, I'm Quill. Let me guess. You guys are the Avengers, right?"

"Yeah, that's right." Sam pulls him up.

"Don't sell yourself short," Bucky shakes his hand next. "Everybody who fought today might as well be an Avenger, too. Name's Bucky."

Quill once again blinks rapidly, frowning at his prosthetic. "Thanks. And sorry about lookin' at you like that. That's—that's just gnarly to look at. Oh, wait is gnarly an insult now? I don’t know. I meant to say your arm's cool and stuff—God, sorry, Buck. But, nah. See, my group here, we got our own thing. That's Drax, and Mantis, and I guess you've already met Groot."

"We," Drax gestures. "Are the freaking Guardians of the Galaxy."

"We kick names and take ass," Mantis puts a proud arm around Groot.

Bucky elbows Sam when he snorts, stepping away with a blank face as the man's eyes narrow dangerously.

Quill winces as he finishes taking Wanda's hand and takes T'Challa's. "Jesus, she's working on that. But, quick question. Did Thor, Groot, and Rocket ever make it to you guys?"

"Yes, they did." T'Challa nods. "And they made quite the entrance, too. They all fought valiantly alongside us. I am T'Challa, King of Wakanda."

"Whoa—King?" He stiffens. "Do I—do we gotta bow or something?"

"I am Groot—"

"—We don't do that," they chorus.

"Of course Thor fought valiantly," Drax sighs, crossing his arms and looking forlornly to the sky. "To underestimate that sculpture of a man is an act of utmost sacrilege."

Bucky glances at Sam, the other man's brows knitting together and studying the air.

"Technically, he's a god but—you know what, okay. Aight. That's fine."

"Rocket tried to buy my arsenal," Bucky mutters, glancing down.

"Yeah," Quill's lips twitch again. "He does that—"

"I am Groot! I am Groot!"

"Yeah, but I don’t really know what that is. Say it again; vibra—what? Vibrium?”

"I am Groot," Groot shrugs. "I am Groot. I am Groot."

Quill stares at T'Challa. "Huh, that’s cool. He says your suits made out of it but—" He glances between Bucky's arm and T'Challa. "They look so different. Rocket’d kill to get his hands on this stuff. ‘course, he’d usually just steal them when you’re not looking—oh, wait. Avengers. Hey, Spider-Man! Spider-Man, come back! We found your Avenger buddies!"

"Spider..." Bucky stiffens.

"Wait, Avenger bud—he's not..." The words die in Sam's mouth as the lanky figure makes its way out of the crowd, the white patches widening.

"Hey, look who's here." Quill points. "You know these guys? And did you find him?"

"Uh, no, nah, I—I didn't see him anywhere," the voice broke, clearly shaken. "And Quill, I couldn't find a way in. I even tried digging—"

"'ey 'ey 'ey, relax. Calm down," Quill grabs his shoulder, glancing at the pagoda. "We'll get to her, too, eventually. We just gotta…we just gotta cool it. Steady, alright? We'll get her. But, uh, here. Here's Falcon—Sam, and Bucky and King T'Challa, his little sister Shuri and Wanda. Did I get that right?"

They all nod and he elbows Spider-Man. "Better at names than you are. By the way, don't you have a cool, superhero name, too, Wanda?"

"Scarlet Witch," she choruses with Spider-Man.

The Spider manages a weak chuckle. "Hey...Mr. Barnes. Mr. Wilson."

"Eh, just Sam's fine, man."

"Yeah, just Bucky's fine." Bucky holds out his hand.

The guy takes it, grip light.

It sort of freaks him out, and he didn't know why. Until his mask retreated downwards, and Bucky remembers.

The tear-stricken face of a young boy meets his eyes.

"Just Peter's fine for me, I guess."

With a shared glance, Bucky and Sam's gazes soften.

"Oh, so I share my name with the Footloose hater?" Quill shoulders him again gently.

Peter forces another smile, wiping away tears. "I thought your name was Star Lord? Or...Quill?"

"My real name, or earthen name, or whatever, is Peter. Peter Quill. You can just...you can just call me Quill. That way, no one gets confused."

"Yeah," Peter nods, sniffling. "Good idea."

"So, you got roped into this, too, huh?" Sam crosses his arms. "Was it Stark again?"

Peter's eyes water even more, and he shivers. "I—"

He falls into ashes and the rest follow suit.

"Damn it," Peter grits, clinging to Quill. "Damn it, I hate this place."

The girl under the pagoda answers him. "I hate it, too," her voice is small and sad. It cracks, but booms over the billions and billions of people they were trapped with. “But we can only leave if someone outside sets us free. Try as much as you want to use whatever magic you have, try to dig as much as you want, but you’re not getting anywhere. Thanos was granted control over our souls, and he trapped us here to fulfill his plans. Half of all life in this universe has been removed and placed where we are now. We’re trapped. And there is no escape. This Stone does not have cracks. And it will not release a single soul, no matter how far you wander, or whatever wall you try to reach. You're better off where you stand.”

"Oh, Gamora," Quill says forlornly. "What did he do to you..."

The little girl merely looks up at him, a darkness far too painful in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Quill. Nothing can really hurt you here."

Quill shakes his head. "I'm already hurting, sweetheart..."

The Guardians flank him, squeezing his hands, and his shoulders.

“What did she mean by this universe,” Bucky turns to Wanda.

“I’ve…never denied the possibility, but she might have been referring to the multiverse.” She pouts. “It’s more of a theory than anything concrete, I think.”

Shuri chimes in. “The multiverse? What does that have anything to do with here?”

“She just said this universe. I thought it was weird. Do you believe it?”

“I don’t exactly dispute it,” she gazes at the ground. “That’s not my area. But thinking that our universe is just one of an infinite number with infinite variations in between is sort of fun to think about every now and then. At least, to me. Maybe we can try asking her?”

“You can go,” Wanda shakes her head. “I’m still…I’m still trying to get my grip on things.”

Sam sighs again. "Spider—whoa. Peter. What can you tell us on Stark?"

Lead weighs in Bucky’s chest as the kid's eyes darken. It was a look no child should have on their face.

"Mr. Stark..." His head shakes. "I... We... I didn't mean to—"

"Peter," a female voice interjects. "I think Ned and MJ are here."

"Ned and...MJ? How—how do you know?"

"I picked up Ned's biometrics when he first found out you being a superhero. I picked up MJ's during the elevator incident."

"Oh. Where are they then?"

"South of here, behind Barnes."

They all turn.

"Ned?"

Ashes flying into the air before falling back down and another two teenagers stumbling past the crowd.

"Holy—MJ. MJ, look—there," a boy shakes the arm of the girl next to him. "I told you he'd be here—Pete!"

"Ned!" The boys crash into a hug, Peter wrapping his legs around the other boy.

"Hey, asshole, " the girl waves, sauntering. She starts conducting with her middle fingers and Sam snorts.

"Jesus," Wanda blinks. "So vulgar."

"What'd you do to her?" Bucky mutters.

"Nothing! She's—she's just like that—MJ!"

"She really is just like that, Mr. Winter Soldier, sir." The round-faced boy peers up at him, eyes wide, but not necessarily frightened. "You kinda get used to it."

"You really do," says MJ, coming up and clapping her hands slowly. "Way to go, champ. A for effort."

"For—what?" Peter tilts his head.

She nods her head. "You're Spider-Man, right?"

Ned freezes and Peter's eyes blow wide. "What—no—"

"—He's not—"

"—These aren't—these—"

"—That's not his—"

"—Yeah—no, these are—this is—these are just—"

"—his PJs!"

"My PJs."

MJ presses her lips together. "So…You brought your Spidey-PJs with you...for the trip?"

"Yep,” he hums.

"Come on, MJ. We're seniors."

"It's not weird. I—I'm allowed to have a thing for superheroes."

Sam coughs while Bucky bites his lip and MJ's eyebrows go up.

"Oh, okay."

"Nope," Peter shakes his head. "That’s not how it was supposed to come out..."

After a moment of odd glancing, she shrugs. "Alright then. Honestly, if anyone had half my mind, they'd just assume what you were up to by the third week of school."

"Nobody just assumes somebody's Spider-Man, MJ."

"You know what theorizing is, Ned, come on. It wasn't hard putting two and two together anyway."

"What do you mean?" says Peter.

"You weren't even trying to hide it, were you?"

"I was," he pouts. "Um...I think I was pretty subtle about it actually."

"Yeah, but you can't really call doing the most clichéd secret superhero shit in history subtle."

Peter splutters, blinking. "What—how was I being cliché?"

She counts her fingers. "Disappearing whenever there's aliens around, leaving your best friend at the party that's bound to boost your popularity, and blowing off your date, literally the prettiest girl in school, at homecoming prom because of something really important. Just those three pretty much fit the bill, but if you don't think so...go off, I guess."

Ned winces.

"Not to mention, you jumped out of the bus, probably thinking everybody was distracted and or apathetic enough to not notice you jumping out of a damn window," she shrugs. "It's pretty amateur stuff, Parker. I've seen better porn."

Peter sags as Ned coughs out a laugh.

"Damn, she has a point..."

"Also, you talked about stealing Captain America's shield during PE once. I was sitting," she pops her lips, rolling her eyes. "Right behind you."

“You were reading,” adds Ned.

“Said who,” she smirks.

Ned lets out a grunt while Peter winces.

"Now, that's just being reckless," Sam snorts quietly.

Bucky's mouth twists and Wanda twitches beside him, a weak smile on her face.

"What, you think you could do better or something?" Ned shakes his head, suddenly defensive.

"I could," she replies easily. "I can beat you at lying. That’s no contest."

Ned gives up. "That's fair."

“Well, sorry,” Peter rolled his eyes before flinching. "I—no. I really am sorry, you guys—I couldn't—we failed—"

"Whoa, hey, whoa whoa whoa. Relax. I'm chill." Ned shakes his head.

"Same,” she smiles. “And literally, we couldn't have done any better, Parker. If I'd put that thing on, I'd probably die instantly. That is, if Stark programmed it to your biometrics—ooh, hang on, can I try it?"

Peter steps back. "What—no."

"Buzzkill," she clicks, strolling up to Bucky.

"You're the Winter Soldier, right?" She holds out her hand. "Michelle Jones, or just MJ."

"Nice to meet you," he says automatically.

"You can still feel temperatures and fabrics with it, right?" She eyes his arm and Bucky smiles. He liked her forwardness.

"To a lesser extent than a regular arm, but yes. I can also still feel pain."

"Oof," she blinks. "That's still cool though. Does it bother you it can't produce body heat? Learned some stuff about trauma in my AP Psych class."

Holding it out, he shakes his head. "It used to? I didn't exactly have enough time to process the trauma. Nor did I let myself really. But she’s the one that can catch you up on the technological details," he nods at Shuri. “She knows better than me.”

“You made this,” MJ’s eyebrow quirks.

“Sure did,” Shuri smiles.

“Lit.”

She presses her fingertips against his and he smiles. He notes her eyes aren't exactly pitiful. They're more...annoyed.

"Nice. Oh, and thanks for your service, by the way. You, too, Falcon."

"You're welcome," they chorus.

“You’re quite relaxed for having technically died,” Sam smirks. “You done this before?”

“No,” she chuckles. “I think I’m just still in shock or something to be honest.”

Bucky nods. “Yeah, join the club.”

Ned trembles, tugging on her. "MJ, quit distracting the Avengers—I'm so sorry, Mr. Winter Soldier, sir, she has no self-control—MJ, you're going to get us killed."

"She's fine, man," Sam shrugs. "Not like we got any leads on what the hell we should be doing."

"You guys got anything?" Bucky smirks.

Ned stutters and MJ shrugs.

"Not the slightest fucking clue. We're just plebs. It's a hard-knock life for us," she sings. "It's a hard-knock life for us—"

"—'Steada treated," Ned joins.

"We get tricked," Peter’s voice is thick, but he joins with a wet chuckle.

"'Steada kisses,” the taller teen beams.

"We get kicked, it's a hard-knock life," the three of them finish.

"How did we get kicked, by the way? What exactly happened?" MJ peers up at Bucky. "Or is that—you know, classified?"

"Uh," he glances with a sigh. "Would you believe me if I said some purple alien overlord wanted to erase half the universe by getting six magic stones and succeeded?"

Her eyes glance away with a tentative hum and her lips press together.

It was an amusing thought when said aloud, and Bucky was afraid she’d straight up shut him down, but after a moment, she shrugged.

"Probably," her eyes flick to Peter. "You're more trustworthy than some people.”

"Hey," he complains.

"Alright, kids," Sam claps his hands with a large grin. He steps besides MJ and chokes on his own amused chuckle. "Let's not try and start fights here. I don't think the school nurse is gon' like the idea that Falcon couldn't keep some rowdy kids under control."

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Wilson. We can both take down Ned instantly," MJ provides. "Peter would probably just knock me out or something—"

"MJ, no."

"MJ, yeah, sure, why not? By the way, is your suit different or something? I've seen videos of you—yeah, it's definitely different."

"Yeah, it is," Bucky says. "The one you had in Leipzig was—I don't know, softer?"

Sam hums, nodding. "This one's shinier."

"Yeah, uh, Mr. Stark. He...he made it for me." His voice quiets. The white patches shrink and removes his mask again, revealing the tears falling down his face.

“Oops, hit a nerve.” MJ nods while Peter bows his head, Ned putting a hand on his shoulder.

"We, um...God. God, why...why didn't I listen to him?"

His shoulders shake and Bucky taps Sam's arm, averting his gaze.

He nods, giving yet another sigh. "Look, Peter—"

"Peter!" The horror-stricken shriek makes them whirl around. "Peter Parker!"

"Oh, shit," MJ bolts behind Bucky. “Ned,” she hisses. “Hide!”

“What, why—"

Bucky almost falls with the breath of the stone this time, feeling his being split apart and drift back together. He picks up MJ before she crumples to her knees, letting her lean on Shuri.

A woman in a cream apron bursts out of the crowd.

"May..." Peter's tears fall without restraint as he stumbles forward. "May!"

"Oh, my God! Pete!" May's arms wrap tightly around the boy. Peter could only let his sobs go as he shook and shook, sobbing and blubbering May's name.

"I was so scared, May...I was so scared."

May presses kisses to his head, muttering reassurances before hugging him to her chest.

"Ugh, I'm going to kill that Stark," she snarls, rubbing Peter's hair.

"No—no, May, please, it's okay..."

"I would strongly advise against that, Miss Parker."

Bucky tenses again as a man walked up behind them, the red cloak on his shoulders hovering behind him.

"I understand your concern, but our fates rest with that Stark now."

“What—who are you?” May glares.

"Dr. Strange..." Peter sniffles. "What—what was it that you saw?"

"I tried to see as many paths to victory as fast as I could," the sorcerer answers as he grabs a woman's hand behind him, pulling her gently to his side. "I saw one."

"Stephen, did we—did we just die?" The woman frowns up at him, a hand around his waist.

"Not yet really, Christine. Not quite that lucky either."

"What was the one?" Sam pipes up.

Stephen takes him in, tilting his head. "Oh, more Avengers made it in here. Oh, boy. You're Sam Wilson, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And you must be Bucky Barnes. You must desperately miss the forties, no doubt."

Bucky sighs. "You have no idea."

Stephen smiles. "Your Highness, King T'Challa Udaku."

"Doctor," T'Challa nods.

"Sorry opening the borders brought you into the heat of things. I suppose power attracts chaos."

"That is very true—"

"Straaange!" Drax roars as he speeds back to them. He descends on the man, swinging. "Why—did you—give Thanos—the Stooone?"

The cloak on Stephen's shoulders rises. It wraps around Drax's fist when he jumps, pulling him away.

"You again? The Blanket of Death! I'll tear you at the seams—"

"—Drax, no! We're not fighting anyone here—"

Quill slams into his front, having Mantis jump on him from behind.

"Sleep! Sleep!"

"I will not sleep here, Mantis," Drax spits. "Both the man and his blankie are in serious need of retribution!"

"First of all, why did your buddy Star-Lord start attacking Thanos right when we were almost had it? And second of all, what if I told you that the reason I gave Thanos the Stone was so that we could win? More specifically, so Stark could win? So he could get us out of here?"

"Look, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't shoot me with your magic," Quill holds his hands up, wincing. "But how the hell is that even going to work?" he pants, pushing Drax back as he attempted to stomp forward. "Stark's still on Titan. And he's with Nebula! Who knows what she'll do to him?"

"She'll probably kill him," Mantis cries as she swayed with Drax.

"I am Groot—I am—Groot!"

MJ moves a little way apart where May is prodding Peter. “You know all these people?”

“Sort of,” he croaks sheepishly. “I don’t know Quill or all the alien guys that well yet. I met them in one of Thanos’s ships while heading to Titan with Dr. Stranger and Mr. Stark and—"

“Wait wait wait. Stark took you to an alien planet?” May shrieks. “Without telling me—no, that’s crossing too many lines, Peter—”

“Aunt May—May, please—”

“—insane—Peter Parker, I’m supposed to be protecting you—”

“I know, but—”

“—looking out for you—under my watch—”

“I know and I’m sorry!”

His sudden volume increase calls even the attention of nearby crowding civilians.

He gasps and bows his head, voice cracking. "God, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. He told me to go home but I didn't listen—and then I blamed it on him and I tried to take it back and—and—he warned me, May,” his hands hold hers tightly. “And he said that he didn't want my death on his conscience and now it is and you can't be mad at him, you can’t,” his voice breaks, tears streaming down. “He was trying to protect me, too. All the way to the end!"

May holds him close again, glaring flatly. "Okay—okay…fine," she sighed. "I won't—I won’t sue him or anything, alright? But he’s still getting a piece of my mind.”

Peter lets out a wet chuckle, hugging her tightly. "That's...that's better, I guess. But wait—" he wipes his face. "Will Nebula really kill him?"

“No, she won’t,” Stephen looks at him and May gently. “What I saw was the best outcome: all of us back, with minimal sacrifice. And Nebula won’t kill him because number one: she has no reason to. They’re fighting on the same side. Against Thanos. Two: they’ve both lost to him and now that they’re stranded together, they’re going to use each other to find a way of Titan and back home. And three: Nebula has no reason to lay off a human and waste energy when she knows a human body will just off itself after food and water deprivation.”

"You better elaborate on that, sorcerer. Director Fury's going to want to hear all about that."

A woman in a dark uniform appears behind them, hair in a neat bun.

"Agent Hill," Sam greets, voice dry. "Not glad to see you here."

"Likewise, Falcon." She smirks bitterly. "You must be Bucky Barnes."

Bucky smiles, holding out his hand. "You're with SHIELD, right?"

"That's right," she grabs his hand. "I'm Agent Maria Hill, second-in-command to Director Nick Fury. More detailed introductions can wait until we're out of here. First and foremost, on my agenda right now's gathering intel."

"Well, we can give you all the intel we have," T'Challa bows his head.

"Your Highness," she nods.

"—fucker, son of a bitch, what the hell happened this fucking time—"

"Good Lord..." Maria jumps a foot in the air as she bumps into none other than SHIELD Director Nick Fury.

Snorts come from the kids, meanwhile Bucky dampens his own chuckle as Agent Hill helps him stand.

"Hill—you're here? What the hell's going on—"

Fury takes in the faces of the Avengers, the sorcerer, and the Guardians. Rubbing his face, he sighs, settling down on the rippling floor.

"What?" Maria's smirk widens. "Thought Hell'd be nicer?"

"No, Agent Hill," Fury huffs with no venom, resigned. "This is much worse."

Wherever the Hell Bucky was, something in him loosens, his shoulders relaxing.

The shock was fading, people were getting their grips on things.

While everyone wasn’t here, they were still in one piece. For the most part. As long as it stayed that way, he could let himself relax. Just a little bit.

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