"Peggy… I'm sorry. I ruined everything."
"No, Steve. This isn't your fault."
Steve Rogers stared at his hands, guilt etched into every line of his face.
"I wanted to stay with you, but I made a mess of things. Rory… that's on me. I have to fix it."
Peggy knew what was coming. As much as it tore her apart, she'd already been given more than she ever dared hope for, one more moment with the man she'd loved.
"Go," she said softly, "just like you did before. Go save the world again."
"Peggy..."
They kissed deeply, a farewell layered in sorrow, love, and unspoken promises.
When it ended, Steve donned the same white quantum travel suit Rory had worn, fastening the Time-Space Navigation Band to his wrist.
Peggy called after him, voice trembling.
"Steve… will I see you again?"
"You will. I promise. I'll be waiting… in the future."
Fwoosh,
In a blinding flash, Steve vanished before Peggy's eyes.
Rustle,
Pop!
Just as Peggy was turning to leave, something rustled beneath the soil.
A small white head poked up from the earth. The last of Rory's successful test subjects, a genetically enhanced mouse, had clawed its way to the surface.
It sniffed the air, nose twitching.
It recognized Rory's scent. But Rory… was gone.
Even more bizarrely, there was something human, something unmistakably sorrowful, in the little creature's eyes.
Peggy crouched, gently reaching out to pet it.
"You're one of his creations too, aren't you?" she murmured.
The mouse nuzzled her hand, drawn to the lingering scent of its creator.
Peggy smiled.
Cradling it in her arms, she left Central Park, unaware of what it might eventually become, but hoping, perhaps, it held answers.
Fwoosh,
Rory emerged from the Quantum Realm and back into the physical world.
He deactivated the travel suit, stepped out from a dim alleyway, and looked around cautiously.
Yes, it was New York.
But not the New York he'd left behind.
It was grander, more evolved, bursting with a different kind of energy.
"Hey, punk. Hand over anything valuable if you don't wanna bleed."
Two hooded muggers stepped into his path. One flashed a knife, his tone full of false bravado.
Rory blinked. "What year is this?"
The two men exchanged confused glances, then one snarled, "You messing with us?!"
CRACK!
Before he could react, the thug found himself lifted clean off the ground by his throat.
His feet dangled.
Rory's expression remained calm, almost curious.
"I asked you a question. What year is it?"
"Two, two-thousand-eight!" the man gasped. "Please, sir, I'm sorry, "
Rory muttered, "Year One of the Avengers Initiative…"
And tossed the man aside like trash.
The two thugs scrambled away, too frightened to even look back.
Rory pulled on a hoodie, sunglasses, and mask, and disappeared into the crowd.
He didn't know if anything he did in 1970 had changed the future, but just in case, it was better to stay low. S.H.I.E.L.D. had grown far more powerful by this time, with global reach and intelligence capabilities he couldn't risk drawing attention from.
Over the next three days, Rory learned a lot.
Tony Stark wasn't Iron Man yet.
Captain America was still a legend of the past.
History was, miraculously, still intact.
Good.
Step one: Get money.
Step two: Build a new lab.
Though he'd injected himself with the serum, Rory hadn't reached the power levels he desired, not even close. He wasn't expecting to be Thanos overnight, but still… he needed more.
Live to experiment.
Experiment to evolve.
Three nights later, Rory exited a diner just as a convoy of sleek black vehicles screeched past, nearly grazing him.
"Hey! Watch it, you, "
He was about to curse when the convoy screeched to a halt outside a luxurious hotel nearby.
Security teams poured out in sharp suits, forming a tight cordon.
From the central SUV stepped a massive, imposing man in a tailored coat.
Rory narrowed his eyes.
"Well well… if it isn't Mr. Wilson Fisk, Kingpin himself."
Perfect.
He needed funding. And fate had just walked right up to him.
Wilson Fisk was nervous.
Not because of business or rival gangs, he could handle that.
Tonight was different.
Tonight… was his first date with Vanessa.
She wasn't just beautiful. Vanessa was sophisticated, witty, and elegant, everything the crime lord never thought he deserved.
And for the first time in years, Wilson Fisk felt something other than ambition.
He felt… hope.
The date went well, until Russian mobsters burst in uninvited, ruining the mood.
After escorting Vanessa home, Fisk made sure the intruders were dealt with… permanently.
Then he returned to his penthouse.
Still brooding, he began unbuttoning his shirt when a voice echoed from the shadows:
"Vanessa's quite the woman. Will you marry her someday, Kingpin?"
Fisk froze.
"Who's there?!"
From the shadows, a hand reached out and flicked the light switch.
Click,
The room lit up.
A young Asian man sat casually on his couch.
"I mean no harm," Rory said with a polite smile. "I'm just here to talk."
Fisk tensed. Not because of the break-in. But because Rory had mentioned Vanessa.
"Who are you? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you turned into a red smear on the wall."
"I'm Rory," he said calmly, "a scientist. I need a lab. You have money. Let's make a deal."
Fisk frowned. "We've never met."
"No. But after tonight, we'll be business partners."
Fisk stared. Was this guy insane? Or just suicidal?
Rory continued, unbothered. "Sit down, Mr. Fisk. Or don't. Doesn't matter."
Fisk stayed standing, but he listened.
"I'm in the field of biology," Rory said. "I need funding for a lab. In exchange, I offer you protection. For your freedom, your operations… and your life."
Fisk blinked, stunned.
"You… what?"
"You fucking kidding me???"
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200 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter