The dust of the Triskelion's collapse had barely settled when the heavy glass doors of the Umbrella Executive Suite slid open. Tony Stark stepped in, his boots clanging rhythmically against the polished floor. He looked less like a conqueror and more like a man who had walked through a hurricane and forgotten why he went outside in the first place. His armor was scarred, and his face was a map of soot and deep-seated exhaustion.
"You look like hell, Tony," I said softly.
"I feel like the 'Original Timeline' version of me just got hit by a freight train," he rasped, collapsing into a modular sofa. He didn't even bother to take off the gauntlets. "It's done. S.H.I.E.L.D. is a memory. Hydra is... well, they're being hunted by your boys in black. Are we winning, Aryan? Because it feels like the world just got a lot smaller."
"We're organizing, Tony. There's a difference." I turned to face him. "Go to the residential wing. Get some real food, a shower, and sleep. You've spent the last six hours playing God; now you need to remember how to be a man. Sort out your thoughts. We have a lot of road ahead of us tomorrow."
For the first time in his life, Tony Stark didn't have a witty comeback. He just nodded, stood up with a groan, and let the U.S.S. guide him toward the living quarters.
Once Tony was gone, I turned my attention to the shadow in the corner of the room. Two U.S.S. guards stood like statues beside a seated figure. Bucky Barnes—the Winter Soldier—sat with his head bowed. The magnetic restraints on his metal arm hummed with a low frequency.
I walked over and sat across from him. His eyes were trapped in the "Soldier" persona, but I could feel the fractured psyche underneath screaming for release. My Omega-level Telepathy brushed against his mind; it was a labyrinth of frozen corridors and blood-stained memories.
"James," I said.
The head snapped up. The icy blue eyes were lethal, and utterly hollow.
"I know what they did to you," I continued, "I've seen the logs. I've seen the assassination of the Starks, the coups in Europe, the lives snuffed out in the dark. You were a weapon. A tool of steel and brainwashing."
"I am choosing to forgive you for now," I said, "But I am only one man. The world you broke—the families of the people you killed—they won't be so quick to offer grace. If I bring you back, if I wipe the Soviet triggers from your skull, you won't be a free man. Not in the traditional sense."
I let the silence hang between us for a moment.
"You will owe a debt to humanity that can never be fully repaid. You will spend every day of the rest of your life in public service, protecting the world you once helped dismantle. You will be the shield that actually works. If you can accept that... if you want to be James Buchanan Barnes again, I will remove the brainwashing tomorrow."
A flicker of something—hope—passed through his eyes. A single nod was his only answer.
"Good. Within a few more days. We need specialized equipment and a precise psychic bridge to untangle seventy years of trauma. You've waited a lifetime; you can wait few more days."
I signaled the guards. "Take him to the secure holding suite. Level 4 amenities. No one disturbs him. He needs a night of peace before we break the ice."
An hour later, I found Tony in the private lounge. He had showered and changed into a simple black shirt, staring out at the Manhattan skyline with a glass of scotch he hadn't touched. The "Leader's" speech was playing on a muted screen in the background.
I sat down in the armchair opposite him. "Feeling more human?"
"Slightly," Tony said. "Still waiting for the part where I wake up and I'm back in that cave in Afghanistan that never came. Everything's moving too fast, Aryan. The Federation, the purge... I keep looking for the catch."
"The catch is that you're finally in a position to fix things, and that scares you," I replied. "But I didn't come here to talk politics. I came to offer you something else."
Tony looked at me, "I'm already a technopathic god, what else is there? A flying car? I already have those."
"No," I said, "There is an option within the Castle's system. A manifestation of power called Mediumship. It's a bridge between the living world and the afterlife. It's a one-time experience—a localized temporal and spiritual anchor."
Tony's glass stopped mid-air. He went very still.
"I can bring them through, Tony. Just for a conversation. Your father. Your mother. Tomorrow, I can give you the chance to say what you never got to say."
The room became deafeningly quiet. Tony's breathing hitched. For all his genius, for all his power, this was the one thing he couldn't build. He couldn't engineer a "sorry" to a dead man.
"You're serious?" he whispered. "This isn't a holographic playback? It's not an AI simulation based on their brain patterns?"
"It is them," I said firmly. "Sefirah Castle doesn't deal in simulations. It deals in Truth. It will be a one-time experience. You can ask Howard about his work, you can tell Maria you love her, or you can just sit there in the silence. It's your choice."
Tony closed his eyes. A single tear tracked through the faint traces of soot still on his cheek. "I... I don't know if I'm ready."
"You have until tomorrow to get ready," I said, standing up and placing a hand on his shoulder. "But for tonight, you need to go home, Tony. You've spent enough time in the shadows of the Hive."
"Home," Tony scoffed lightly. "Malibu is a long flight."
"I've already taken care of it. I sent a U.S.S. detachment to protect Pepper. They've been there since the Triskelion went red. She's safe, she's at the house, and she's waiting for you. You need to be with someone who doesn't see you as 'Iron Man' or a 'Federation Asset.' You need to be Tony."
Tony stood up, his legs looking a bit steadier. "You're getting scarily good at this, you know? The whole 'caring for the soul' thing. It's a bit jarring coming from the guy who just dismantled the United Nations."
I laughed, a genuine sound that broke the tension. "Someone has to keep you balanced, Stark. If I leave you to your own devices, you'll start trying to build a Dyson sphere by Tuesday."
"Hey, don't give me ideas. A Dyson sphere would solve the energy crisis for the next ten millennia," he joked, the old spark returning to his eyes. He paused at the door. "Aryan... thanks. For the Pepper thing. And for... the other thing. Tomorrow."
"Go home, Tony. I'll see you in Sefirah Castle tomorrow afternoon. We have a soldier to save and a legacy to reconcile."
I watched him leave, his silhouette disappearing into the elevator. As the doors closed, I stood alone in the quiet brilliance of the Umbrella headquarters. The board was set. The political world was mine, the military world was in ruins, and my most powerful pieces—Tony, Wanda, and soon, Bucky—were being bound to me by the deepest of human needs.
I walked back to the window. The city below was beginning to light up under the new Federation protocols.
"One more day," I whispered to the glass. "And then, the real work begins."
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