Ashes and Anchors
Tony walked into the medical ward carrying what looked like a basket filled with a large amount of strawberries, casually eating a few as he walked. He entered the room as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Tony said as soon as he stepped inside and saw Owen standing there, tearing off the casts that restricted his movement. "It's only been two weeks. I really doubt your bones have fully fused," he added, though he did not seem particularly interested in stopping him. He knew it would be pointless, even if Owen did not have his full strength.
"I'm tired of being locked up in here. Either way, if I'm going to be in pain, I'd rather suffer it while sitting somewhere more comfortable," Owen replied while looking at the machines that monitored him constantly. Every time he moved either of his hands, they trembled, making it painfully clear that he had not healed at all. His body was still covered in injuries, wounds that were taking far too long to recover, as if his organism were prioritizing internal damage first. Something that, regardless, would take a long time.
Tony then noticed something serious as he looked at the large machine beside Owen's bed, the one that had contained the heat his right arm released while he was unconscious. He then looked directly at Owen's right arm, now wrapped in ordinary bandages, bandages that were not catching fire despite being in direct contact with his skin.
Owen noticed Tony's gaze and spoke before he could ask.
"I made a kind of deal. You'd better not ask," Owen said calmly, looking at his right arm, the one that had suffered the most damage. It was completely bandaged, and he could barely lift it without feeling an overwhelming pain, though it was different from the near constant burning agony he had felt before. Now the pain came from his pulverized bones, struggling to reconnect and heal slowly. "Did you do what I asked?" Owen asked, changing the subject with a serious look.
"You know, only someone like you or the general would dare give orders to the richest man in the world," Tony said with a smug expression.
"As long as you believe that, it's enough. And if I can't take advantage of giving orders to the guy who's constantly building armor to counter me in case I ever turn evil, then what else would I do?" Owen replied, looking at him lightly.
"Hey, I had your permission, right? And if what you told me is true, there's a guy who would create a contingency plan against you in another universe just by seeing you walk down the street," Tony added. He then quickly continued, "It's where you asked me to put it. It was easy. You didn't even need to ask me personally, you just had to call the manager and pay him," he said with mild annoyance.
"I already said it. If I can't give orders to you, then who else would I?" Owen replied with a faint, amused smile as he walked toward the exit. Tony watched him with slight amusement and a hint of mockery as he moved forward, wincing with pain at every step.
"Are you seriously not going to rest a few more days? You really look like an old man like that," Tony said. A threatening look from Owen made him raise his hands immediately. He left the basket of strawberries on a nearby table. "They're for you. Pepper's allergic. See you," he said before leaving.
But before he did, he stuck his head back in.
"Oh, and I won't tell Wanda that you escaped, because she'll definitely hunt you down anywhere and throw you back into bed. Though I'm not sure how you two usually handle things…" he started to say, but did not finish. A strawberry flew at him at full speed, grazing his face and leaving a red mark. It was obviously from the fruit, though it could easily have been blood.
"Just go. You're annoying," Owen said, visibly tired of him.
Tony laughed as he walked away. "Even completely injured, he's still a killing machine," he added casually as he headed down the hallway, winking at a few nearby nurses.
…
At the cemetery, standing before two graves, Owen remained perfectly straight. Bandages were hidden beneath his clothes, faintly visible at his neck and sleeves. His hands were completely wrapped, trembling softly at his sides. He stood firm before one of the headstones.
The name he stared at read Victor Kleim. Right beside it, a grave that still looked new, the earth recently disturbed, bore the name Alexei Kleim.
Father and son, buried side by side.
The cemetery was silent. Only a few people in the distance were visiting their families. The atmosphere was heavy and sorrowful, as it always was in that place.
Owen looked at Alexei's grave before speaking quietly, his words angled slightly toward Victor's.
"I don't know if you'd be glad to know that the serum you created from your own son was what ended up killing him. And that the man you gave it to was the one responsible," Owen said with a serious expression as his gaze drifted across the cemetery. Just behind Victor's grave were several more headstones, clearly belonging to the same group. Each one bore engraved military medals. Graves he himself had watched being sealed shut while standing rigid, holding a military salute for hours under the rain.
His former comrades. Those who died during the mission to rescue Victor. The first mission in which Owen was the only soldier to return alive, even so having completed the objective.
"This world is really a piece of shit," Owen added, his expression visibly tense.
The Age of Heroes had begun a long time ago, and with each passing day, the lives of ordinary people only grew worse and worse. This time, it was also the first instance in which there had been so many civilian casualties since Owen had begun intervening, trying to improve every step along the path he knew, the one where he was aware that many would die.
He had saved people during the Chitauri invasion, and in every crisis that followed. He had even directly threatened Tony and Banner to prevent the creation of Ultron. And yet, Ultron still appeared.
But this time, it was not because of them.
This time, it was through Doctor Pym.
No. Ultron had existed for a long time already. It simply emerged at the exact moment when the one Tony and Banner would have created was meant to be born.
"That's what you call an anchor event, right?" Owen said, staring into nothing before turning slightly.
There was a figure standing there, calmly observing him.
Their appearance was androgynous and austere. A completely shaved head, a pale and serene face, soft features that nevertheless conveyed a sense of silent authority. They wore long robes in shades of cream and light brown, simple in appearance, yet ancient, bearing the sober style of a monk.
"After all these years, I thought you would appear before me. It seems you chose now," Owen said calmly, recognizing them at once. "Sorcerer Supreme."
"It is not that I never wished to appear before you, Owen," the Sorcerer Supreme replied serenely. "It is that there was never a reason to do so."
"And now there is?" Owen asked, watching them closely as he turned fully toward them. He was not on guard, but he was ready for anything.
"There is," came the calm reply. "You have too many questions, and I am the only one who can give you some of the answers. Waiting any longer would be too late."
Owen's expression shifted slightly. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at one of the most powerful beings on Earth. At least for now. Because as the Age of Heroes continued to advance, that claim would become increasingly debatable.
The Sorcerer Supreme turned away. A portal opened at their side. They stepped into it calmly, turning their back on Owen. Just before disappearing, they glanced back at him for a brief moment.
"Are you coming?" they asked calmly.
Owen held their gaze for a few seconds, then nodded and stepped toward the portal.
The moment he crossed it, the portal closed.
The cemetery fell silent once more, as if nothing had happened, with no one noticing any change at all.
