{"Stand proud. You are strong for making it this far. Leave your comment below, or be cleaved along with the rest of the fodder."}
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In the chaotic, smoke-filled aftermath of the Battle of New York, reality was becoming increasingly difficult to parse for the operatives of S.H.I.E.L.D.—and even more so for the hydra loyalists embedded within them.
While the primary group of Avengers stood inside the New York Public Library, witnessing the resurrection of Agent Phil Coulson, a very different drama was unfolding across town.
At the Stark Tower, the S.T.R.I.K.E. Team, led by Rumlow and accompanied by the Agent Jasper Sitwell, had secured the Loki's Scepter.
They moved towards the main elevator, intent on whisking the Scepter away to a secure HYDRA-controlled facility under the guise of S.H.I.E.L.D. custody.
The elevator doors hissed open, and the atmosphere instantly shifted. Standing there, stoic and commanding, was Captain Steve Rogers.
When they got inside and elevator doors closed, Captain informed the team that Secretary Alexander Pierce had personally requested him to take custody of the scepter for further safeguarding.
The Strike Team was,Of course, incoperatative.
But then, Rogers leaned in towards Sitwell. In the cramped, tense silence of the elevator, he whispered two words that sent a shockwave through his body.
"Hail Hydra."
The looks on their faces were a mixture of sheer terror and religious awe—the sudden, realization that the Sentinel of Liberty, the paragon of American virtue, might have been a deep-cover sleeper agent for their cause since 1945.
Stunned into total compliance, they handed over the case without a single question.
Of course, the "Captain" in that elevator was a fabrication formed in combination with Ethan's Kitsune and Tora.
Why go to such elaborate trouble? For Ethan, the reasons were fourfold.
First, the pure, unadulterated comedy of the situation made the effort entirely worth it. Watching the most cynical, cold-blooded traitors in the world fall for a "Secret Handshake" was a masterpiece of irony;
And it was the perfect opportunity to recreate a certain legendary scenario from a certain movie.
He wanted them to believe, if only for a few hours, that their greatest enemy was actually their greatest secret asset.
The second reason was the "long game." With Ethan currently performing healing across town, his alibi was secured, even Banner didn't know about Tora's ability to cast illusions.
It wasn't that he couldn't have simply transported or sealed the Scepter beforehand, but he knew that doing so would have sparked immediate resistance from S.H.I.E.L.D. and even the Avengers.
He could have easily forced the issue and most likely emerged victorious, but recalling the famous words of the Italian Renaissance philosopher and diplomat Niccolò Machiavelli:
"Never attempt to win by force what can be won by deception." He stayed his hand.
Thirdly, The psychological fallout was priceless. Later that day, when Sitwell and the Strike Team eventually encountered the real Steve Rogers—after Loki and Thor had already departed for Asgard with the Tesseract—and mentioned the "hand-off," the confusion was absolute.
Watching the HYDRA high-command scramble to figure out if they had been tricked by the God of Mischief, while desperately trying to calculate how to recover that Scepter, was truly a sight to behold.
Lastly, the absence of Ultron didn't hurt. Though Ethan harbored lingering doubts about whether preventing that specific catastrophe would truly make a difference in the long run.
After all, Stark's need to create Ultron would only increase after this Alien invasion.
And a rogue AI was hardly a novel threat within the Marvel multiverse; Aida, from the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. series, immediately came to mind as a prime example of synthetic ambition gone wrong.
The next day:
The early morning in Kamar-Taj was alive with motion; students drifted through doorways and gathered in the courtyards to practice complex spells.
Ethan sat at his usual sanctuary on the terrace, a secluded spot where he went whenever he required solitude to think. Between his palms, the Mind Stone hovered, pulsing with a faint glow as it levitated.
Suddenly, a shimmering orange portal sparked into existence behind him. Though he didn't turn to face the intruder, he already knew exactly who had arrived.
"What do you intend to do with that?" the Ancient One asked, her hands tucked behind her back.
"Originally?... I was thinking of destroying it. End the Endgame before it even begins," Ethan said, finally turning to meet her gaze directly. "You cannot see past the moment of your own death... but I have seen what happens." He paused, waiting for the Ancient One to give him a subtle nod of permission to continue.
"It will likely not happen the same way now—after all, I have already changed and intend to change a great deal. But what if there is a possibility that we could eradicate all Cursed Spirits? I have considered this before: by fundamentally altering how humanity interacts with Cursed Energy. Using all six Infinity Stones, it should be possible, right?" Ethan asked, beckoning the Mind Stone back into his hand.
"It is true... Cursed Energy exists within alien life as well, but it is only humans who leak that energy, allowing it to coalesce into Cursed Spirits," the Ancient One replied, pacing slowly around him. "In other words, Earth is the sole cradle where Cursed Spirits are born. And yes... it is entirely possible to fundamentally change how humanity interacts with that energy—provided you wield all six stones."
"So... are you going to tell me that man was not meant to meddle, or something similar?" Ethan asked, clearly a little surprised by the directness of her answer.
"I cannot tell you what you must or must not do, Ethan. However, you alone must bear the burden of your choices, whether they prove to be right or wrong," the Ancient One spoke, glancing up at the rising morning sun before returning her gaze to him. "The protection of the Time Stone is the sacred duty of the Sorcerer Supreme... but I doubt Dr. Strange would stop you if you somehow collected the other five stones and presented a reliable way to purge all Cursed Spirits."
Saying that, the Ancient One turned and swept her hand to open a portal back to the main hall of Kamar-Taj. "Have a cup of honey tea... before you go to visit Miss Guinevere," she added casually as she stepped through the golden gateway.
Ethan stood stunned for a long moment. That was the name of the blonde woman he had healed the other day—the one who, after he returned from resurrecting Phil Coulson, had given him her number. She had asked him to call her for a date... he wasn't entirely sure. But if there was a way to see for certain... he looked the Ancient One in the eye with a flicker of hope.
"No... and I am most certainly not using the Time Stone to assist your love life," she spoke firmly, and his hopes were instantly shattered.
Later that day:
As Ethan made his way through the streets of New York with his red hoodie pulled up, he paused to watch a television through the cracked glass window of an appliance store.
The news channels were obsessed with the Avengers, and apparently, he was now counted among them.
"Yeah... I saw the guy. He had wings, flying straight toward the wormhole and then... everything became hot. It only lasted few seconds, but I was left panting on the ground... that was crazy, man."
"A deer saved my life... literally. My right arm was completely gone, and now it is back."
"So, what? All this is their fault? Captain
America saved my life. Wherever he is—or wherever any of them are—I would just like to say thank you."
It seemed some people around New York had spotted him above Stark Tower while they could still perceive Cursed Energy, having briefly glimpsed the span of Nue's wings.
Ethan looked at the text he had received earlier from Guinevere and checked the location of the surprisingly intact coffee shop on the other side of the road.
She was already there; it seemed she had already ordered herself a drink. He checked the time on his phone—he was, in fact, earlier than their decided time. Ethan crossed the road, not knowing for the first time exactly what his future would hold.
Inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier communication hub—the cold, dimly lit room where Director Nick Fury typically receives mandates from the World Security Council—the air was thick with tension.
The Council had previously authorized a nuclear strike on Manhattan the moment fifteen additional Leviathans began emerging from the portal.
One of the "birds" from the Helicarrier's own deck had attempted to take off to deliver the payload, but Fury himself had neutralized the jet before it could even leave the runway.
"Where are the Avengers?" the Councilman on the right demanded, his face a flickering hologram of judgment.
"I am not currently tracking their whereabouts," Fury answered, his voice devoid of apology. "I'd say they have earned a leave of absence."
"And the Tesseract? What of Loki's Scepter? Have you had any luck locating our resident shapeshifter?" the Councilwoman asked sharply.
"The Tesseract is where it belongs—out of our reach. As for the Scepter, we are still investigating. Agents witnessed Loki transform into Captain Rogers during the transition, so the prevailing theory is that he currently has it in his possession," Fury replied.
"Giving the Tesseract away was not your call to make," the Councilman in the middle interjected, his tone icy.
"I didn't make the call," Fury countered. "I just didn't argue with the God who did."
"So, you simply allowed him to take the Tesseract? And the war criminal, Loki? The one who may or may not have tricked your agents into returning his Scepter? Loki should be answering for his crimes against Earth," the Councilwoman pressed.
"Oh, I think he will be. As for the Scepter, Loki wasn't carrying it when he was being transported to the park, which suggests he might have stashed it somewhere on Earth," Fury replied calmly.
"I don't think you quite understand the magnitude of what you have unleashed upon the world by letting the Avengers loose. They are dangerous," the Councilwoman warned.
"They surely are. The whole world knows it. In fact, every world knows it," Fury said, a hint of a pride crossing his face.
"Was that the point of all this? To make... a statement?" the Councilman in the middle asked.
"A promise," Fury replied simply, turning his back on the monitors and exiting the conference room.
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A/N: So how was the chapter?
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