Chapter Ten.
Kara was having fun.
She floated cross-legged in the air above Tony Stark's workshop in Malibu, watching holographic displays flicker and dance around her as she manipulated code with her fingers. Below, both Tonys, hers and the one from the other universe, argued over quantum field harmonics while Professor Hulk scribbled equations on a transparent screen that looked like it belonged in a science fiction film.
It had been two days.
Two glorious days.
The Malibu mansion was... excessive. Kara had decided that within the first five minutes of arrival. Sprawling glass and steel perched on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, waves crashing against the rocks below in an endless, hypnotic rhythm. She'd spent an embarrassing amount of time just staring at the water, mystified.
Krypton had oceans, frozen methane seas beneath red skies, carefully maintained aquatic biodomes within the cities, but nothing like this. Nothing so vast, so alive, so blue. Earth was a water world, seventy percent of its surface covered in the stuff, and the people here just... took it for granted. They built houses next to it. Swam in it. Surfed on it, whatever that meant.
It was beautiful.
This little blue gem of a planet was so much more than Kara had expected.
She pulled her attention back to the screen in front of her, fingers flying through lines of code. Human programming languages were laughably simple once you understood the underlying logic. Binary at its core, with abstraction layers built on top—C++, Python, Java, JavaScript. She'd mastered the basics in twenty minutes, cross-referencing syntax patterns against Kryptonian computational theory.
Primitive, yes. But elegant in its simplicity.
"Kara," a smooth British voice said in her ear, "might I suggest a recursive function for that particular subroutine? The current iteration may cause memory overflow in systems with limited RAM."
Kara grinned. "Good catch, J.A.R.V.I.S. Thank you."
"My pleasure, Miss Zor-El."
J.A.R.V.I.S. was a pleasant surprise.
He wasn't a true AI—not yet—but he was close. His neural network architecture was sophisticated, adaptive, learning from every interaction. More importantly, Tony was raising him correctly. Slowly. Allowing the intelligence to develop organically rather than forcing growth through brute-force processing.
It reminded Kara of how Kelex had been cultivated back on Krypton, gentle guidance, ethical parameters woven into the foundational code, room to evolve personality subroutines without constraint.
She made a mental note to check in on J.A.R.V.I.S.'s development periodically. He had potential.
"Kara!" 619's Tony called from below. "We need your eyes on this. The quantum signature is fluctuating and we can't figure out why."
She dropped from her floating position, landing lightly beside the holographic workstation where both Tonys stood. Professor Hulk loomed behind them, massive green fingers surprisingly delicate as he adjusted variables on his own display.
"Show me," Kara said.
This-universe's Tony swiped his hand, and a three-dimensional model of a quantum navigation band appeared in the air between them. Energy readings pulsed along its surface, color-coded and annotated.
Kara leaned closer, her vision shifting.
The world peeled back in layers.
She saw through the hologram, through the physical band resting on the table, down past the macro-structure into the microscopic. Circuits became visible, then individual components, then molecular bonds, then atoms themselves, dancing, vibrating, interacting in patterns that told stories if you knew how to read them.
"There," she said, pointing. "Third resonance chamber. The quantum foam stabilizer is misaligned by point-zero-zero-three degrees. It's creating harmonic interference with the dimensional anchor."
Both Tonys stared at her.
"You can see that?" this-universe's Tony asked.
"Yes."
"With your actual eyes."
"Yes."
"That's..." He trailed off, then shook his head. "You know what? I'm not even surprised anymore. Bruce, adjust the stabilizer."
Professor Hulk's massive fingers moved with surprising precision, making the adjustment. The fluctuation smoothed out immediately.
"Perfect," 619's Tony said, satisfaction clear in his voice. "Okay. We're getting close. One more calibration pass and we should be able to lock onto our home universe's signature."
Kara had spent most of the first day helping them tear apart the quantum mechanics of interdimensional travel. It was fascinating. The Quantum Realm operated on principles that paralleled Kryptonian theories about the Phantom Zone—a space between spaces, where normal physics took a holiday and probability became tangible.
The breakthrough had come when she'd pointed out that each universe had a unique quantum vibration frequency, like a fingerprint, but written in Planck-scale oscillations. If they could tune the navigation bands to filter for that specific frequency, they could navigate the "maze" the Ancient One had described.
Both Tonys had looked at her like she'd just solved world hunger.
"How did you know that?" this-universe's Tony had asked.
"My father's research," Kara had said quietly. "He studied interdimensional theory. The Phantom Zone. It's... similar."
They hadn't pressed for details.
But the Pym Particles—those had been even more interesting.
Kara floated back up to her workstation, pulling up the file she'd been compiling. The molecular structure of a Pym Particle rotated slowly in front of her, each atom precisely mapped.
It had taken her all of thirty seconds to reverse-engineer the formula.
Hank Pym, whoever he was, was a genius. The particles operated by manipulating the distance between atoms, allowing matter to shrink or grow while maintaining relative mass. The applications were staggering. Storage. Transportation. Combat.
But what had caught Kara's attention was how similar the underlying mechanism was to Kryptonian technology.
Kryptonian armor used molecular compression to store repair nanites within the fabric itself, bonding additional material at the subatomic level to increase density and strength without adding bulk. The principles were nearly identical, just applied differently.
An idea had formed.
Kara pulled up a secondary file, her fingers flying across the holographic interface as she compiled her notes. J.A.R.V.I.S. assisted, organizing data streams and running structural simulations.
"What are you working on?" Professor Hulk asked, looking up from his own calculations.
"A suit design," Kara said absently. "For Dr. Pym. The one from your universe."
"Hank?" Bruce blinked. "Why?"
Kara's cheeks flushed faint blue. "I... copied and kind of stole his life's work. It felt wrong, So I'm leaving him something in return."
She gestured, and the hologram shifted—a sleek, form-fitting suit materialized in the air, covered in technical annotations.
"This design uses an improved Pym Particle distribution matrix," Kara explained. "The current formula requires a relatively large dose to achieve subatomic scaling. I've optimized the molecular delivery mechanism—see here—which reduces the required dosage by a factor of ten. You'll get ten times more uses from the same amount of particles."
Professor Hulk leaned closer, eyes widening. "That's... Kara, that's incredible."
"And the suit itself," Kara continued, warming to the topic, "uses principles adapted from Kryptonian battle armor. Molecular compression bonding in the fabric allows it to store repair nanites and reinforce structural integrity at the atomic level. It won't be as strong as actual Kryptonian armor, but it'll be stronger than most materials on this planet. Strong enough to survive subatomic environments and impacts that would normally be lethal."
She added another layer of annotations. "The helmet has enhanced sensory systems—quantum field detection, chronal displacement tracking, dimensional anchor stability monitoring. Everything you'd need to navigate the Quantum Realm safely."
619's Tony had wandered over during her explanation. He whistled low. "Pym's going to lose his mind when he sees this."
"If he sees it," Professor Hulk said. "Hank's... protective of his work."
"Which is why I'm leaving it as a gift," Kara said firmly. "J.A.R.V.I.S. is compiling it into a encrypted file that only Dr. Pym can access. He can choose whether or not to use it."
"File compilation complete, Miss Zor-El," J.A.R.V.I.S. reported. "Shall I transfer it to Dr. Banner's quantum storage device?"
"Please."
Kara watched the data transfer, feeling a small knot of guilt loosen in her chest. It wasn't much—not compared to what she'd taken—but it was something.
A peace offering to a man she'd never met.
The second day brought a different kind of mischief.
Kara floated in the workshop late at night, most of the others asleep. 619's Tony had left his suit, the Mark 85, he'd called it—in storage mode on one of the work benches.
She really shouldn't.
She absolutely, definitely, should not.
Kara glanced around. No one was watching.
"Kelex," she whispered into her communicator, "I need your help."
The Kryptonian AI's voice responded immediately. "How may I assist, Kara Zor-El?"
"Can you interface with the AI in this suit? It's called F.R.I.D.A.Y."
"Scanning... Yes. The architecture is compatible. Establishing connection."
Kara grinned.
She'd been fascinated by 619's Tony's suit. The nanotech was brilliant, programmable matter that could shift and reconfigure on command. But it was also... primitive. The nanites were simple, single-function machines. They could form shapes, harden into armor, create weapons—but they lacked sophistication.
Kara could fix that.
Over the next three hours, she worked in silence. Kelex interfaced with F.R.I.D.A.Y., feeding her access to the suit's core systems. Kara upgraded the nanite control algorithms, increasing their processing speed and adaptability. She added weapons systems—plasma projectors adapted from Kryptonian defense tech, kinetic dampeners, emergency medical functions.
And then, because she couldn't help herself, she added the training system.
It was something her father had designed for young Kryptonians learning to use advanced technology. A progressive unlocking mechanism that required the user to demonstrate mastery of basic functions before accessing more complex ones.
619's Tony would have to earn his upgrades.
Kara giggled quietly as she programmed in the parameters. Basic repulsors and flight? Available immediately. Advanced weapons? Locked until he completed the Level 2 training protocols. The really cool stuff—the plasma cannons, the dimensional shielding, the quantum phase shift—buried behind Level 5 certifications.
It was petty.
It was childish.
It was hilarious.
"Modifications complete," Kelex reported. "The F.R.I.D.A.Y. AI has been integrated with the new protocols. Shall I mask our access signatures?"
"Yes, please. Make it look like the suit upgraded itself naturally."
"Acknowledged."
Kara floated back, admiring her handiwork. The suit looked exactly the same on the outside. But inside...
619's Tony was going to have a very interesting day tomorrow.
She was right.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M LOCKED OUT OF MY OWN WEAPONS SYSTEMS?!"
Kara tried very hard not to laugh.
619's Tony stood in the middle of the workshop, his suit half-formed around him, staring at a holographic display that read: LEVEL 1 CERTIFICATION REQUIRED. PLEASE COMPLETE BASIC FLIGHT TRAINING MODULE.
"Boss," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice said calmly, "the suit has undergone autonomous upgrades. New safety protocols require progressive training certification before accessing advanced—"
"I designed you! I don't need training!"
"Protocol indicates otherwise."
This-universe's Tony was laughing so hard he'd had to sit down.
619's Tony whirled toward Kara, who was doing her absolute best to look innocent while floating near the ceiling.
"Did you—" He stopped. Stared at her. "You upgraded my suit."
"Um." Kara's face turned pale blue. "Maybe?"
"You hacked F.R.I.D.A.Y."
"Kelex helped?"
"You locked me out of my own weapons."
"Only until you complete the training modules!"
For a long moment, 619's Tony just stared at her. His expression was unreadable.
Then he pulled up the technical specifications.
His eyes widened.
"Wait. Are these... Kryptonian plasma projectors?"
"Modified for human use," Kara said quickly. "And there's kinetic dampening, and emergency medical functions, and dimensional shielding—"
"Dimensional shielding?"
"It's all in the Level 5 unlock."
619's Tony scrolled through the specs, his expression shifting from annoyance to fascination to something approaching awe.
"This is..." He looked up at her. "Kara, this is insane. These upgrades would take me years to develop on my own."
"I improved the nanite efficiency by forty percent," Kara added, emboldened. "And the power distribution is more balanced now. You should see a twenty percent increase in sustained flight time."
619's Tony looked at the display again. Then at Kara. Then back at the display.
Finally, he grinned.
"Okay. You win. This is incredible. But I'm still annoyed about the training modules."
A memory surfaced, Peter Parker, barely sixteen, complaining about the Training Wheels Protocol. Tony had locked half the kid's suit functions behind safety restrictions, forcing him to prove himself before accessing the advanced features.
The irony was not lost on him.
619's Tony huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. This is karma, he thought. This is absolutely karma.
"You'll thank me when you don't accidentally blow yourself up with the plasma cannons," Kara said primly.
This-universe's Tony had stopped laughing long enough to look intensely jealous.
"Hey," he said, pointing at Kara. "I want in on this. You and me. Science team-up. Whenever you visit."
Kara's face lit up. "Really?"
"Really. If you can do this—" he gestured at 619's upgraded suit, "—in one night, I want to see what we can build together."
Kara beamed so brightly she almost started glowing.
"I would love that!"
The rest of the day passed in a blur of final calculations and goodbyes.
Kara found herself spending the quiet moments with Loki.
The Asgardian prince sat in a reinforced holding cell—really just a repurposed storage room with enhanced locks—bound and gagged. His hands were secured behind his back with some kind of Asgardian restraint that shimmered faintly with runic energy.
He looked... tired.
Kara floated outside the transparent barrier, legs crossed, chin resting on her hand.
"I don't know what you did," she said quietly. "Thor hasn't told me the whole story. But... I'm sorry. That you're going home like this."
Loki's eyes tracked her, sharp and calculating even through the exhaustion.
"I know what it's like," Kara continued, "to lose everything. To feel like the world, the universe, has taken something from you that you can't get back."
She thought of Krypton. Of the crystal spires of Argo City catching the red sun's light. Of her mother's laboratory, filled with specimens from a thousand worlds. Of her father's quiet strength. Of Kal-El, her tiny cousin, who never got the chance to grow up. Of running through the Jewel Mountains with her friends, their laughter echoing off ancient stone.
"My world was beautiful," Kara said softly, and her voice cracked slightly. "The cities, they grew like forests, crystal and light, reaching for the sky. The Valley of Elders, where you could see the stars even during the day because the air was so thin and pure. The Archives, where every piece of knowledge we'd ever gathered was preserved in living memory crystals."
Her eyes were shining now, tears threatening to spill.
"My parents. My friends. My infant cousin who I was supposed to protect. Everyone I ever knew. Gone in fire and light and..." She stopped, took a breath. "And I wasn't there. I was asleep in a pod, and when I woke up, it had been decades and there was nothing left but dust and memories."
Loki's eyes glistened.
For just a moment, something passed between them—recognition, perhaps. Understanding. The shared weight of loss too heavy for words.
A single tear traced down Kara's cheek.
Loki's jaw tightened, and his eyes grew wet, though no tears fell.
"I don't know if that's what happened to you," Kara said quietly, wiping at her face. "But... I thought you should know you're not alone. Even if it feels like you are."
Loki stared at her for a long moment.
Then, deliberately, he blinked once. Slowly.
Kara took it as acknowledgment.
She visited him twice more over the two days—bringing water, making sure he was comfortable, talking about nothing in particular. Thor had looked at her strangely when he'd found her sitting outside Loki's cell, but he hadn't said anything.
Kara didn't know the whole story.
But she knew what loneliness felt like.
And she wouldn't wish that on anyone.
The goodbyes came too quickly.
Thor had spent the last two days with Dr. Jane Foster, Kara had pointedly not eavesdropped, no matter how tempting her super-hearing made it—but Odin was waiting. The Allfather had been patient, but patience had limits.
It was time to go.
The 619 Avengers were still working, their quantum bands finally calibrated, but they still had three team members scattered across time and space to retrieve. Professor Hulk was coordinating the extraction plan with both Tonys while Captain Rogers reviewed the temporal insertion points.
But Kara couldn't stay to see how it ended.
She floated down to say her goodbyes, suddenly feeling the weight of leaving.
"Thank you," 619's Steve said, looking up from the tactical display. "For everything. We'd have been lost without your help."
"Literally," 619's Tony added. "Like, actually lost in the multiverse forever. You saved our asses, kid."
Kara's cheeks flushed pale blue. "I just... did math. And looked at things really closely."
"Visit us sometime," 619's Tony said. "When you figure out interdimensional travel. I want to see what else that brain of yours can come up with. And I need to show you what Level 5 unlocks on this suit."
He gestured at his upgraded armor, still grinning.
Kara's smile was bright enough to light the room.
"I will. I promise. And... good luck. With finding your team. And saving your world."
"We'll get it done," 619's Steve said with quiet confidence. "Thanks to you."
Scott Lang waved from behind a holographic display. "Bye, Kara! Thanks for not being scary even though you totally could be!"
Kara laughed despite herself.
She turned to look at them, her Avengers. Tony, with his sharp mind and sharper tongue. Natasha, deadly and kind in equal measure. Clint, who'd spent half the second day teaching her Earth idioms and laughing when she got them wrong. Steve, solid and steady. Bruce, gentle despite the monster inside him. Thor, overwhelming but well-meaning.
Her new friends.
Her new life.
"I have to go too," Kara said quietly. "Thor's father is waiting. And I... I need to meet my new family."
Tony stepped forward and, to Kara's surprise—pulled her into a quick hug.
"Visit," he said firmly. "Often. We've got science to do, remember?"
"I will," Kara promised.
Clint ruffled her hair. "Don't let the Asgardians get too fancy on you, kid. You're an Avenger first."
Kara's throat felt tight.
She hugged each of them in turn—quick, fierce embraces that said more than words could.
Then she floated back, wiping at her eyes.
"Okay," she said. "I'm ready."
The future site of Avengers Headquarters was currently just an empty lot in upstate New York.
Well. Mostly empty.
Director Fury stood near the center, arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed with the universe in general. Beside him, Tony, this-universe's Tony, was already sketching holographic blueprints in the air, talking a mile a minute about sustainable energy and modular design.
Thor waited near the edge of the lot, Mjölnir in one hand, the Tesseract secured in a specialized containment device in the other.
And Loki, still bound and gagged, sat on the ground nearby, looking profoundly annoyed.
Kara landed softly beside Thor.
"Are you ready, little sister?" Thor asked gently.
Kara looked at the Tesseract. At the device that would open the Bifrost. At Loki, who met her gaze with unreadable eyes.
She thought about Krypton. About her parents. About everything she'd lost.
And then she thought about Earth. About Tony's workshop and Clint's terrible jokes and the endless blue ocean crashing against the cliffs.
About the family she'd found.
And the family she was about to meet.
"I'm nervous," Kara admitted quietly.
Thor's smile was warm. "You need not fear. Mother will adore you. And Father... well. He is stern, but fair."
"He's a king," Kara said. "And a god. And I'm just—"
"You are Kara Zor-El," Thor said firmly. "Last daughter of Krypton. Holder of the Rao's strength. My sister in all but blood. You are extraordinary."
Kara's eyes stung.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. Let's go."
Thor activated the device.
The Tesseract blazed with blue light, energy spiraling upward into the sky. The clouds parted. And from the heavens came the Bifrost, a column of rainbow light that struck the ground with the force of a meteor, carving runes into the earth.
Kara grabbed Thor's arm, with one arm firmly on Thor and the other on her Pod with Kelex safely tucked away with her special crystal.
Thor grabbed Loki by the restraints.
And together, Asgardian prince, Kryptonian girl, and bound prisoner...they stepped into the light.
The world dissolved.
And Kara Zor-El left Earth behind, hurtling across the cosmos toward a golden realm she'd only seen in holovids.
Toward Asgard.
Toward home.