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“They’ve started mimicking us,” Natasha says tensely. “Be careful who you leave at your back.”
Tony swears. These shapeshifters had started off hiding in plain sight as objects and had moved on to copying civilians, which had made them difficult but not impossible to identify. Apparently, whatever it is that enables them to take on a shape had adapted again. “They won’t have comms, though,” he says.
“No, but we’ve already lost contact with Steve,” Natasha says. “We can’t tell a damaged comm from a compromised comm.”
“Tony,” Stephen calls out, flying over. Tony tenses; does the mimicry extend to flight? “They can’t hide their souls from you,” he says when he’s close enough not to shout.
No one but Stephen knows about Soul. Tony relaxes. “Look for people without connections to me?” he guesses, already tapping into the sense that shows him the soul threads. Most of the civilians have cleared out already.
But Stephen shakes his head. “A battle might be enough to establish a connection. You need to look for the shape of their souls, not just their relationship to others.”
“Shape, right,” Tony mutters, but he concentrates, letting Soul help adjust his perception. Suddenly the few civilians still hiding from the battle flare brightly. Tony rears back and curses, automatically shading his eyes even though this brightness has nothing to do with vision.
“Tony! Are you okay?” Stephen’s hovering close by, and his soul is the brightest of all. Tony is seeing so much, he can’t even process it.
Soul steps in and suddenly everything eases down until he’s only getting a general impression of people. Tony lets out a breath. “I’m okay,” he tells Stephen. “Just a little information overload. I’ve got it now.”
It turns out that aliens have very differently shaped souls than humans. Tony has no trouble at all telling them apart. With Stephen’s help, the remaining shapeshifters are quickly rounded up and secured.
“How’d you pick them out?” Natasha asks while she, Tony, Stephen, Steve, Sam, and Bruce wait for the appropriate authors to retrieve them.
If he says he adjusted his suit sensors, they’ll want to know how, for the future. But Tony isn’t ready for anyone to know about Soul. Not yet. One day he’ll have to explain, but—
“I cast a spell,” Stephen says. “It took some time to adapt; these shapeshifters aren’t like those I’ve seen before.”
Natasha raises her eyebrows. “There’s more than one kind?”
“Many more,” Stephen assures her.
She shakes her head. “Great. The universe is a wonderful place,” she says dryly.
“Thanks,” Tony tells Stephen later, when they’re alone in the Sanctum. “For covering for me.”
“Any time,” Stephen says, smiling.
“I will tell them, eventually,” Tony promises.
Stephen leans forward. “They’re not entitled to know, Tony. Whether or not you share this with them is entirely your choice.”
Tony has to laugh; that’s not an opinion he hears much. But he can feel Stephen’s sincerity, and he can’t help but bask in it a little. “Eventually, someone is going to notice I’m not aging, if nothing else.”
“There are illusions I can cast that would take care of that,” Stephen says. “I mean it: What you share with others is entirely up to you.”
That promise leaves Tony a little breathless. “Thank you,” Tony says again, because he can’t seem to find any other words.