Scott stood in silence for a long moment, still staring at his name carved in stone. The world had moved on without him. His daughter had grown up thinking he was dead.
Without another word, he turned and began walking—fast.
Max followed quietly, a few steps behind, letting Scott process everything. There was no need to speak. The weight of the moment said more than any words could.
They reached the car again, and this time, Scott climbed into the driver's seat without hesitation. Max didn't object. He simply slid into the passenger seat and watched as Scott drove through the broken city with growing urgency.
The streets blurred by. Soon, the scenery began to shift—less ruin, more remnants of everyday life. Some houses were still lived in. A few children played with makeshift toys on the sidewalk. Life, fragmented as it was, still clung to existence.
Scott pulled up to a modest house on a quiet street. His hands were shaking on the steering wheel.
Max looked at him but said nothing.
Scott stepped out slowly, crossing the small yard like a ghost from the past. He stopped in front of the door, hesitating—then knocked.
Footsteps.
The door creaked open.
And there she was—Cassie Lang, now taller, older, her eyes widening as if she was staring at a dream.
"…Dad?"
Scott's voice cracked. "Hey, peanut."
Cassie launched forward and threw her arms around him. He held her tightly, eyes welling up, breath shaking.
From the sidewalk, Max stood and watched the reunion unfold silently. There was a softness in his usually calm expression, something rarely seen.
He turned away, giving them space.
In a world that had been torn apart, some pieces were finding their way back together.
Max turned from the heartfelt reunion, giving the two their moment. He slowly walked down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, boots crunching softly on scattered leaves.
This neighborhood… it felt alive—more than any part of the city he'd seen since arriving. Gardens, though overgrown, still bore signs of care. Laundry hung on clotheslines. Lights glowed softly behind curtains.
People lived here.
They had survived the Snap—and they were enduring, in their quiet, resilient ways.
Max passed a house where an older woman watered plants from a battered can. She glanced at him with guarded eyes, clearly not used to strangers. He gave her a polite nod, and she simply returned to her task.
Farther down the block, two children kicked around a deflated soccer ball. Their laughter, though faint, drifted through the air like a flicker of the world before. One of them paused to look at Max curiously before resuming their game.
He leaned against the streetlight pole, gazing up at the cloudy sky. A breeze rustled through the branches above, carrying with it the quiet sounds of people rebuilding in small, stubborn ways.
After a moment, Max turned and walked toward a nearby park. He found an old bench, sat down, and leaned back, closing his eyes.
Time passed quietly.
Eventually, footsteps approached, and someone sat down beside him.
Max opened one eye to glance sideways.
"Now you know what happened," he said calmly.
Scott nodded slowly, still visibly processing everything.
"Yeah… but for me, it's only been, like, five hours. Maybe five days tops," he said, giving a weak chuckle. "Time's weird in the Quantum Realm."
He leaned back too, letting the silence hang for a second before continuing.
"Hey, I've got an idea… It might sound crazy, but… what if we went back into the Quantum Realm—and used it to travel back? Like… pick a point before the Snap? I mean, years passed out here, but for me, it was just months. There's something there, I know it."
Max raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about building a time machine?"
Scott hesitated. "No. I mean—yes. Kind of. I know it sounds insane, but the Quantum Realm doesn't work like normal time. I've seen it. Time moves differently down there."
He sighed. "I know it's a long shot, but it could work. It's risky, but if we could get the right minds involved…"
Max sat up, brushing the dust from his coat. "Then we'll need someone who can actually build something that can make this idea real."
He stood, looking toward the horizon.
"Let's go find Banner or Tony."
Scott stood too, tightening his grip on his helmet. "You think he'd help?"
Max smirked. "If he's still around… he's probably already working on something weird anyway."
Scott nodded. "Alright. Let's go meet the Avengers."
The two left the park behind, stepping back into the quiet hum of the recovering neighborhood. The streets were still mostly empty, but the tension from earlier had lifted somewhat. People peeked from windows as the strange pair—one in a hoodie, the other clutching a futuristic helmet—passed by.
Back in the car, Scott punched in a location on the GPS.
"Last I heard, Banner had gone upstate. Not far from the old Avengers facility. Kinda became a hermit scientist, I guess. But if anyone can wrap their head around quantum physics and time travel…"
Max nodded, already starting the engine. "Banner's probably your best bet."
They drove in relative silence for a while. Scott glanced sideways a few times, studying Max.
"You know," he said finally, "you're not exactly acting like some SHIELD agent, or even a scientist. Who are you, really?"
Max smirked faintly, eyes on the road.
"Let's just say… I'm someone who doesn't belong to this timeline either. But unlike you, I chose to be here."
Scott blinked. "Wait—what?"
Max waved it off. "Later. We've got a time machine to build."
The cabin was humble, built near a lake surrounded by trees still bare from late spring frost. Smoke curled lazily from a metal chimney. Parked outside was a beat-up pickup truck and a stack of old tech equipment.
Scott and Max approached the front door, the faint sound of a TV playing inside. Scott knocked twice.
A familiar voice called from inside. "If it's more leftover pizza coupons, I told you guys—I don't eat gluten anymore!"
The door opened.
Bruce Banner, or rather, Smart Hulk, stood in the doorway, wearing reading glasses, a tattered flannel, and sweatpants several sizes too small. He blinked when he saw Scott.
"…Lang?"
***
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It's 22 chaps ahead