The quiet hum of the Avengers Tower faded into the background as you moved swiftly through its halls, your steps light but purposeful. You needed air, distance, space to think after what had transpired with Loki. But as you rounded a corner, you were abruptly stopped by a familiar figure—Bucky Barnes.

"Bucky?" you said, blinking in mild surprise. His stance was casual, but there was an undeniable tension in his posture, his gaze locked onto you with quiet determination.

"Hey, (Name)," he greeted, his voice calm, almost gentle. His lips curved into a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Why are you running?"

You frowned, shaking your head. "I'm not running. I just... need to go out for a while." Your words were measured, careful, but the way his expression shifted told you that he wasn't buying it.

You stepped to the side, hoping to brush past him, but Bucky mirrored your movement, blocking your path. His vibranium arm whirred softly as he adjusted his stance, placing himself firmly in front of you.

"Bucky," you said, your voice dipping into a warning tone.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his smile fading into something more somber. There was a sadness in his eyes, a flicker of regret mingled with resolve. "I can't let you do that."

Your heart skipped a beat at the weight of his words. His protective nature was well-known, but there was something different about this moment. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and the way he positioned himself—between you and the exit—made it clear that he wasn't going to move.

"Why?" you asked quietly, searching his expression for answers. "What's going on, Bucky?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not safe out there. Not with Loki here." His tone was laced with concern, but you caught the deeper layer beneath it. It's not just Loki he's worried about. It's you.

You folded your arms across your chest, tilting your head slightly. "You think I can't handle myself?"

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I know you can handle yourself. That's what worries me." His blue eyes softened, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "You're not like the rest of us, (Name). There's something about you—something even you don't fully understand. And if Loki knows..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

You felt a flicker of frustration, but it was tempered by the genuine concern etched into his features. "Bucky, I'm not running from Loki. I'm not afraid of him."

"I know you're not," Bucky replied, his gaze never wavering. "But you don't have to face him alone. You've got us. You've got me."

There was a pause, a lingering silence filled with unspoken truths. For a moment, you considered pushing past him, brushing off his concerns. But the sincerity in his voice, the way he stood like an immovable barrier between you and the unknown outside, gave you pause.

"I'm not used to people looking out for me," you admitted quietly, the vulnerability in your words surprising even yourself.

Bucky's expression softened further. "Well, get used to it. Because we're not going anywhere." He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "And neither are you. Not tonight."

For a long moment, you stared at him, weighing your options. Finally, with a resigned sigh, you nodded.

"Fine. But you're making me muffins," you said, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

Bucky chuckled, the sound lightening the air between you. "Deal."

And just like that, the tension eased. But as you turned to walk back with him, a thought lingered at the back of your mind—Loki's words still echoing in your ears. You're an anomaly, (Name), and you always will be.

SCENEBREAK

The tension in the room snapped like a wire stretched too thin.

You and Nyxara had been laughing, batter-covered and carefree, when Clint rushed into the kitchen, his expression wild and frantic. His sharp eyes darted around until they landed on you. Without a word, he crossed the room in long, hurried strides and wrapped his arms tightly around you.

"Clint!" you gasped, nearly dropping the plate of batter. Luckily, Bucky was quick, snatching it from your hands before it could hit the floor.

The sudden embrace left you stunned. You hugged Clint back, your fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket as you tried to steady yourself. His heart was pounding against your chest like a drumbeat of desperation.

"Clint, dear," you said softly, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Clint didn't respond immediately. His hands trembled slightly as they rested on your shoulders, and his gaze flickered with emotions he couldn't put into words. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just thought I'd lost you."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Lost me? Clint, what are you talking about?"

You stepped back fully now, trying to make sense of his behavior. Something wasn't right. Your instincts flared, and the familiar hum of your cursed energy buzzed at the edge of your consciousness. The Six Eyes activated instinctively, sharpening your vision, your perception of the world around you.

Everything seemed normal—at first glance. But as you focused, you saw it: faint traces of magic lingering in the air, like threads of an invisible web woven throughout the tower.

A snarl rose in your throat, low and dangerous.

"What the hell?" you muttered, eyes narrowing as you scanned the room.

You turned toward Clint, who was watching you with worry etched into his features. "Stay here," you ordered, your voice cold and commanding.

"(Name), wait—" Clint reached out to stop you, but you were already moving, your enhanced speed making you little more than a blur.

"I'm sorry, Clint," you whispered, vanishing down the hall.

SCENEBREAK

The elevator ride to the lowest level felt like an eternity. The hum of the machinery was drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat, pounding in your ears. The magic you sensed was old and familiar. And there was only one person in the tower who could be responsible for it.

Loki.

The moment the elevator doors opened, you stepped into the dimly lit corridor, your steps echoing softly. Loki's cell came into view. The god of mischief was pacing like a restless predator, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression both troubled and tired.

He didn't even notice you at first.

"You!" your voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Loki's head snapped up, his green eyes widening in surprise just as you walked straight through the force field that separated him from the rest of the tower.

"What the—" Loki barely managed to react before your hand shot out, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him against the cold stone wall of his cell.

The impact rattled the glass walls, a faint shimmer of magic crackling through the air.

Loki yelped, his hands instinctively going to your wrist as he struggled against your grip. "What are you—"

You leaned in, your eyes burning like molten silver beneath your blindfold. "What kind of enchantment have you thrown over my friends?" you snarled.

Loki's lips curled into a smirk, despite the fact that he was pinned and at your mercy. "Ah," he said, his voice raspy from your grip. "So you've noticed. Clever girl."

"Answer me!" you barked, tightening your hold on his throat. "What game are you playing, Loki?"

Loki chuckled—a dark, low sound that sent shivers down your spine. "I'm not playing any game, darling. You know me better than that."

"Do I?" you shot back, your voice cold. "I know you're a liar and a manipulator. You've already torn my world apart once, and I won't let you do it again."

His smirk faltered for a moment. His gaze locked onto yours, searching for something. Then, slowly, his smirk returned, but it wasn't as smug as before. There was something softer in his expression now, something almost... curious.

"You truly don't know, do you?" Loki said, tilting his head slightly. "You've been walking blind this whole time—quite literally."

Your grip loosened slightly, just enough for him to speak more clearly. "What are you talking about?" you demanded.

Loki's eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "There's a spell in place, yes. But it's not mine."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"It's woven into the very fabric of this tower," Loki continued. "A subtle enchantment, one designed to pull you closer to the truth—your truth."

You frowned, your mind racing. "Why would someone—"

"Think, (Name)," Loki interrupted, his voice low and coaxing. "Who benefits from keeping you here, keeping you tethered to this world, to these people? Who stands to gain from your presence?"

You released him with a shove, stepping back, your chest heaving. The pieces of the puzzle were swirling in your mind, but they refused to click into place.

Loki straightened, rubbing his neck. "You're more important than you realize," he said softly. "And someone very powerful doesn't want you to leave."

You stared at him, your hands trembling slightly. "Who?"

Loki smiled—a genuine, almost sad smile. "That's for you to figure out, darling."

"And when you do..." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We'll see whose side you truly belong on."

Before you could respond, the elevator doors slid open behind you.

"(Name)!" Clint's voice echoed down the hall, panic lacing his tone. "What are you doing?"

You glanced back at him, your mind still reeling. Clint's eyes darted to Loki, then back to you. "We need to go—now. There's something happening upstairs."

Loki chuckled darkly. "Ah, the plot thickens."

With one last glare at Loki, you turned on your heel and strode toward Clint.

But as you left, Loki's words lingered in your mind.

You're more important than you realize.