The Quinjet cut through the air with a low hum, its sleek design almost whispering against the winds. Harley sat strapped into his seat, staring out the window at the fading horizon. Despite everything—alternate universes, glowing hands, and the sheer absurdity of his situation—the world outside looked eerily calm. It was almost insulting.
Natasha leaned against the control console, observing him. "You doing okay?"
Harley forced a smile. "Define 'okay.' I've got cosmic powers I don't understand, the Avengers think I'm a ticking time bomb, and Deadpool keeps trying to rename me 'Sparkles.'"
Deadpool, sitting across from him, gasped dramatically. "Sparkles? No, no. You're Captain Sparkle Fist. Trademark pending."
Steve, who was adjusting his shield, glanced up. "Wade, focus. This isn't a joke."
"Who's joking?" Deadpool shot back. "The guy has shiny hands and a destiny to save the multiverse. It's like a Marvel version of Aladdin, but with less singing and more existential dread."
Logan growled from the back, arms crossed. "Keep it down, Wade. I'm trying to nap before we walk into another disaster."
"Nap? Really?" Deadpool said, incredulous. "Do you ever stop being a grumpy werewolf? What's next, a bedtime story?"
Harley chuckled despite himself, grateful for the levity. But his laughter was short-lived as Strange appeared beside him, his expression as grim as ever.
"You're unusually quiet," Strange said, his tone probing. "What's on your mind?"
Harley hesitated before replying. "Just... wondering how I'm supposed to help when I can barely help myself. Everyone's acting like I'm some kind of chosen one, but I'm just an ordinary guy who got dragged into this mess."
Strange studied him for a moment. "Extraordinary circumstances often choose ordinary people. What matters is how you rise to the challenge."
"Wow," Deadpool interjected. "Inspirational posters have nothing on you, Strange. Do you moonlight as a life coach?"
Strange ignored him. "Harley, your powers are still developing. The fact that you've survived this long is proof enough that you have potential. But survival alone won't be enough. You'll need to learn control, or the multiverse will suffer for it."
Harley nodded, though doubt lingered in his chest.
Arrival at the Avengers Compound
The Quinjet landed smoothly at the Avengers Compound, its engines powering down with a low whine. Harley stepped out, the evening air cool against his skin. The compound was eerily quiet, its vast expanse feeling more like a relic than a base of operations.
Steve led the group inside, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. Natasha walked beside him, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings.
In the main control room, Steve called out, "Nat? Are you here?"
From the shadows, Natasha Romanoff—this timeline's Natasha—stepped forward, her face a mix of surprise and relief.
"Steve," she said, her voice steady but tinged with weariness. "You're back early. What's going on?"
Her gaze flicked to the group behind him, lingering on Strange before moving to Logan, Deadpool, and finally Harley.
"More recruits?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not exactly," Steve replied. "It's... complicated."
Natasha looked unimpressed. "When isn't it?"
Tension and Explanations
The group gathered around the control table as Steve and Strange explained the situation. Natasha listened intently, her expression unreadable as she processed the information.
"So," she said finally, "you're telling me this guy—" she pointed at Harley, "—is the source of all this multiverse chaos?"
"Hey," Harley protested, "I didn't ask for any of this!"
Natasha smirked faintly. "Relax, I'm not blaming you. Yet."
Deadpool leaned against the table, munching on a bag of chips he'd found somewhere. "Can we just appreciate how all of this started because one dude couldn't stay in his lane? Harley here's like the butterfly that flapped its wings and caused a hurricane. Except instead of weather, it's universal annihilation. Classic."
Logan's claws popped out with a metallic snikt. "Wade, if you don't shut up..."
"Fine, fine," Deadpool said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "No need to get stabby."
Natasha glanced at Steve. "What's the plan?"
"We need to locate the remaining Avengers," Steve said. "If this situation escalates, we'll need everyone we can get."
"And Harley?" Natasha asked.
Strange spoke up. "He stays with us. His powers are tied to the multiverse fractures. If we can help him harness them, he might be able to reverse the damage."
Natasha studied Harley for a moment before nodding. "Alright. But if he becomes a liability, we'll deal with it."
"Deal with it how?" Harley asked, alarmed.
"Don't worry," Deadpool said cheerfully. "It usually involves a lot of running and screaming. Sometimes explosions. You'll love it."
Harley groaned. "Why did I ever leave my apartment?"
"Because fate had other plans," Strange replied cryptically.
A Growing Threat
As the team prepared to regroup and strategize, Harley couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching them. The glow in his hands had dimmed, but it still pulsed faintly, like a warning signal.
Whatever was coming, he knew it wouldn't be long before they faced it head-on.
And this time, there would be no turning back.