“You fell out of the sky,” a security guard said as Bruce recovered his senses.

He looked around. He was in a pile of rubble in what looked like a factory. Looking up he saw a Hulk-size hole in the roof. “Did I hurt anybody?”

“There’s nobody around here to get hurt,” the guard said. Bruce could see his name tag. It read HARRY. “You did scare the hell out of some pigeons, though.”

“Lucky,” Bruce said. It was a funny thing to say when he was lying in a heap of broken concrete with no clothes on and no way to get back to the team, but it was true.

“Or just good aim,” the guard said. “You were awake when you fell.”

“You saw?”

“The whole thing. Right through the ceiling. Big and green and buck naked.” He reached down and picked up a pair of pants. Tossing them to Bruce, he said, “Didn’t think these would fit you until you shrunk down to a regular-size fellow.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said. He got the pants on. They were a little big, but a whole lot better than naked.

“Are you an alien?” the guard asked.

“What?”

“From outer space,” the guard said. “An alien.”

“No,” Bruce said. He wasn’t sure how to explain what he was, so he didn’t try.

“Well then, son,” the guard said, like he’d been thinking about it all night, “you’ve got a condition.”

In a cell on the Helicarrier, Natasha Romanoff sat by Clint Barton’s bed. He was restrained as a precautionary measure because they had no way of knowing if they had really freed him of Loki’s influence. Natasha thought she had seen him come back after she’d cracked his head into the catwalk railing, but there was no way to be sure . . . at least until she could talk to him for a minute. Then she would have to trust her instincts.

Barton thrashed at the restraints as he started to wake up. “Barton,” Natasha said. “You’re going to be all right.”

She put a hand on his shoulder as he fought his way back to wakefulness. Barton got his eyes focused on her, and she knew he was back. She could see him in there instead of Loki . . . and she could see that he was scared and confused and angry.

“You know that?” he asked. “Is that what you know? I got . . . I gotta flush him out.”

“You’ve got to level out,” she said. “That’s gonna take time.”

He fell back on the bed. “You don’t understand,” he said. “Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Pull you out and stuff something else in? You know what it’s like to be unmade?”

“You know that I do,” she said. She’d been made and unmade more times than she could remember. She had told Loki as much when she said she was Russian . . . or used to be. Natasha didn’t know what she was anymore, except she was loyal to Nick Fury, loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D., and loyal to Clint Barton.

Barton looked over at her. “Why am I back? How’d you get him out?”

“Cognitive recalibration,” she said, dead serious. Then with a small smile she explained. “I hit you really hard in the head.”

He stared at her for a moment like he was trying to decide if she was joking. Then he just said, “Thanks.”

That was what Natasha needed. She knew Barton was back. Now she could unbuckle his restraints. He sat up, rubbing his wrists. “Natasha,” he said. “How many agents did I—?”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t do that to yourself, Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for.” Better than maybe anyone on the Helicarrier, Natasha Romanoff knew you couldn’t blame yourself for things you did while you were brainwashed. All you could do was try to heal and get things right the next time.

“Loki,” Barton repeated. “He got away?”

“Yeah. Don’t suppose you know where?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t need to know. Didn’t ask. He’s gonna make his play soon, though. Today.”

“We have to stop him,” Natasha said.

“Yeah? Who’s ‘we’?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Whoever’s left.”

Barton considered this. “Well,” he said. “If I put an arrow through Loki’s eye socket, I’d sleep better, I suppose.”

She smiled. “Now you sound like you.”

“But you don’t,” Barton said. “You’re a spy, not a soldier. Now you want to wade into a war. Why? What did Loki do to you?”

“He didn’t, I just . . . ” she trailed off, knowing she couldn’t deceive Barton. Not after what he’d been through. He knew how Loki worked, how he got into your mind before you even knew it was happening.

“Natasha,” he said, trying to get her to talk.

“I’ve been compromised,” she said. What she meant was Loki had gotten into her mind. Even though she’d known it, and used it to get information out of him, she still could feel the way he’d used her. “I got red in my ledger,” she said, knowing Barton would understand. “I’d like to wipe it out.” 9VZqtx0QlYBAzDX8A5/jxofTiJjpxizmVsQEBfmDYkgLAdR2bZvleItzPMmGDi/1