The moment the red chaos magic surged forward, Black Widow—who had been standing in front of Lock—didn't even bother resisting.
She took a few graceful steps back and slipped her arms around Lock's, leaning against him sweetly, like an ordinary woman strolling through the city with her boyfriend.
Lock gave her a helpless smile. "Learning to slack off now?"
Black Widow's lips curved. "If I don't take it easy around you, when else can I? Anyway, what do you want with that woman?"
She didn't know that Lock's powers had evolved beyond anything Earth had ever seen—that he could literally bend fate. So, when she saw him showing a trace of softness toward another woman—especially a beautiful one like Wanda—her instincts immediately flared.
The red surge of chaos magic reached them. Lock raised a hand, fingers slicing through the air. The scarlet energy twisted, diverted, and passed harmlessly around them like a wild stallion galloping off course.
BOOM!
The redirected blast struck a Hydra bunker in the distance, detonating in a thunderous explosion.
Pierce, seeing Wanda holding Lock's attention, took the chance to slip away. He dashed into the chaos, heading toward the direction where the Evil God had vanished.
Black Widow moved as if to pursue, but Lock stopped her with a quiet word.
"Let him go. He can't escape."
He didn't even look worried. After all, the Klein bottle space he had created earlier was still active—anyone trapped within it would circle endlessly, returning to where they started, no matter how far they fled.
If anything, letting them run was useful; every motion they made helped Lock refine his understanding of the looping spatial structure.
If Natasha recklessly gave chase and ran into the maddened Evil God, she might not walk away.
The Evil God's borrowed power from the Super Serum was burning out fast—but until it did, even he was too dangerous for a human like her to face.
So Lock and Black Widow advanced slowly, unhurried, their steps measured.
Lock called out softly, "Wanda, I didn't ask for a fight."
At this stage, the Scarlet Witch wasn't yet the multiversal threat she would one day become. Without the Darkhold, without the Book of the Vishanti, her chaos power was still raw—beautiful, but untamed.
Wanda's eyes flashed cold. "Don't insult me. I know exactly what men like you want."
With a flick of her hands, she lifted a tank nearby—effortlessly—and hurled it toward Lock.
Lock sighed, stretched out his hand, and the tank split neatly in two midair, its halves sailing harmlessly past him.
"Seriously… what do you women think of men?" he muttered, glancing at Natasha.
Black Widow only smirked. "She's not wrong. Most men are exactly what she thinks they are—especially around a beautiful woman."
Lock gave a small shrug. "Fair enough."
He turned back to Wanda, his tone even. "Then I'll get straight to the point. I want to invite you to join S.H.I.E.L.D.. As a sign of good faith—I'll save your brother."
Wanda froze. "What?"
The concrete slab she'd lifted hung suspended in the air, trembling with her hesitation.
"Humph. I don't believe you," she snapped. "You're with Stark's people. You're all the same."
Lock's brow furrowed. Words wouldn't convince him, so he decided to show her.
He spread his hands apart, grasping at the air as though molding something invisible.
Suddenly, the very space around Wanda began to fold.
She couldn't see it—but she could feel it. It was as if invisible mountains were closing in from all directions, pressing against her without form or shadow.
She fired bolts of chaos magic wildly, in every direction—but her attacks pierced through the illusion and vanished, striking far-off ruins instead.
Lock's voice echoed calmly. "This is a spatial binding. Unless you understand the shape of space itself, you can't escape."
He had first tested this ability on Xandar—cutting and bending space itself, creating invisible boundaries that only those with true spatial awareness could perceive.
The Klein bottle he used earlier was the advanced form of that technique: a looping space with no exit.
Space cutting had edges; brute force could break it. But space looping? There was no edge to break. No direction to run.
Like an ant crawling on a Möbius strip, she would circle endlessly unless her mastery of space surpassed his.
The space around Wanda tightened further—a miniaturized dimensional lock, compact and suffocating.
To escape, one needed either greater comprehension of space… or enough power to shatter reality itself.
Wanda clearly didn't have the first—but her raw power was terrifying nonetheless.
She screamed, chaos energy erupting outward in a surge of scarlet fury. Her long brown hair whipped behind her like a flame. The red glow around her deepened, condensing into pure force that clashed violently with Lock's invisible bindings.
CRACK… CRACK… CRACK!
Small explosions echoed through the air as the two energies collided. Thin, black fractures split through space itself—each one birthing and erasing illusions like ripples on water.
Every tiny tear could have equaled a missile blast if unleashed elsewhere.
Lock watched her closely. Her strength was rising—but her control was slipping fast.
Her face flushed crimson, veins glowing faintly beneath her skin. Her magic kept building, threatening to tear her apart from within.
If it continued, she'd destroy herself before she broke free.
Lock sighed. "Stubborn woman…"
He released his hold, softening the space around her. The pressure vanished in an instant.
Wanda gasped as the energy within her burst outward harmlessly, scattering into a red mist across the night sky.
Her power spent, her body went limp—falling from midair.
Lock blurred forward and caught her easily.
Her warmth pressed against him. For a brief, awkward moment, his hand brushed the curve of her side.
He froze.
…Okay, that's definitely not ideal.
He quickly adjusted his grip, remembering why male actors often kept their hands closed when hugging their co-stars. Some positions simply didn't allow for dignity.
Wanda's breathing was soft and shallow. Her body trembled weakly.
Lock looked down at her and said quietly, "I swear, in the name of the King of Apocalypse—your brother will not die."
In the original timeline, Pietro Maximoff—Quicksilver—was gunned down by Ultron while saving civilians. But the timeline was already fractured. The Mind Stone's fate was uncertain; Ultron's very creation might not even occur now.
And even if it did—Lock had the means to alter destiny. He'd done so before. He could do it again.
If he could change Frigga's fate, Quicksilver's would be no challenge at all.
Wanda's anger faded with her exhaustion. Her voice was barely a whisper. "My brother is still in Hydra's hands. If you can save him… I'll do anything you ask."
Lock coughed lightly. That phrasing… was dangerous.
Especially with Natasha standing right beside him—arms crossed, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Uh… rest first," Lock said quickly, setting Wanda gently on the ground. "I'll finish things here—and then we'll talk."
Natasha raised a brow, smirking faintly.
Lock sighed. "This is going to be one of those days…"
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