Earth 199999
MCU
Year, 2012
Month, March
[AN: I corrected the date. I really thought the battle of New York happened on the month of July. Turns out it was May. So, I really apologize for the mistake there. Enjoy.]
Inside the Helicarrier
Everyone finally huddled up, waiting for Fury as the ship carried them to the skies and disappeared. Their destination? Germany.
Steve Rogers finally met Andrew Anderson. The man who had given him cryptic advice and wiped out the memory of their first meeting, except for the advice, which was now treated as a prophecy by SHIELD, or future events which was supposed to happen 2 months later.
Steve had a lot of questions he wished to ask, but he was unsure where to start. A handshake was first established as he did too to Dr. Banner, who apparently can track the Tesseract's whereabouts. And the doctor can also transform into a green giant if angered or provoked.
"How do you know these things?" Steve finally asked, his voice low
"What things?"
"The future." Steve clarified. Natasha, ever the observer, shifted slightly, her sharp hearing picking up on the shift in conversation.
Andrew looked at Steve with a mixture of hesitation and contemplation. He can't just tell them he watched them before. He had to tread carefully. So, what exactly will he say?
"I had a dream." He began. [AN: cooking]
"In that dream, everything felt… vividly real. At first, I thought it was just nonsense, just a very lucid dream. Until I saw you."
Steve furrowed his brow, unsure where this was going. "Why me?"
Andrew's eyes softened slightly, and he smiled.
"Because in one of the events of that dream, I saw you there. I saw you fall, beaten, alone. You were facing an army. Yet, you didn't stay down or give up."
"I saw you grit your teeth. You stood up. You fastened your shield. Ready to defend our world… no matter the cost."
There was a brief silence
Coulson, who had been quietly listening from the corner, couldn't help the small lump that formed in his throat. Was he on the verge of tears? Or was he already wiping his eyes? It was hard to say. Steve Rogers had that effect on people.
Natasha, ever the skeptic, found herself disarmed. She stared at Steve with something close to awe—a rare expression for someone so guarded.
Bruce Banner, usually so wrapped up in the science of things, was visibly struck by the emotional weight of what Andrew had just shared.
It reminded them all—this was the man who had led them during World War II, sacrificed everything for his country, and now stood among them, still fighting for a world he barely knew.
So, it shouldn't be a surprise if someone who saw future events and says that this man would never quit. Not even against overwhelming odds. Even if it meant standing alone against an entire army.
This man was Captain 'fucking' America!
[AN: Is it cringed? Please be honest.]
Steve, feeling the gaze of his colleagues on him, suddenly felt self-conscious. It was a rare moment, but there it was: the captain blushing. He didn't know what to say, so he simply shrugged, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
Before anyone could respond, the moment was abruptly interrupted by a voice that cut through the air, familiar and sharp.
"Alright, enough with the emotional bonding session," Fury said, striding into the room with a purposeful swagger. His black eye patch, always a silent reminder of his experience, seemed to make him even more imposing. "We've got work to do."
He nodded to Steve, who straightened up, knowing full well that Fury didn't have time for anything that wasn't mission-critical.
"Stark will join us once we're in Germany, but we're handling the initial phase alone." Fury's gaze swept over the group, his expression firm but not without a trace of his ever-present intensity. "We've got intel that needs to be secured before we deal with any larger threats."
"Banner, I trust you're doing, okay?" Fury glanced toward Bruce, who had remained relatively quiet, despite the brief flurry of emotion that had surrounded Steve.
Bruce nodded with a slight, almost imperceptible smile.
"I'll be fine," he said quietly.
"I just need a place to work. A quiet room. Isolation is key."
Without waiting for further explanation, Natasha stepped forward. "I'll show you where you can set up, doctor."
As she led Bruce away, Steve watched them go, feeling the pressure of the mission start to settle in. He had a job to do, and it was time to focus.
Once the door shut behind Natasha and Bruce, Fury's attention snapped back to Andrew, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Anderson," Fury began, his tone taking on a more tactical edge.
"We need to know exactly what we're up against. What should we be expecting when we land in Germany?"
Andrew met Fury's gaze. He had been expecting this. His mind whirred, trying to piece together the information he knew from the movies.
He couldn't recall the name of the one in charge of the iridium, the material that would be used to stabilize the wormhole Loki plans to open.
"Whoever's in charge of the iridium, Loki will be there, and so will Barton."
Fury's gaze was steady, never wavering.
"I don't like half answers, Anderson. You've given us a lot of vague warnings, but we need specifics. What else do we need to know?"
His tone only irritated Andrew, who was already trying his best not to be specific.
"Don't push me for answers specifically about the future. I've told you what I know, but if you keep digging… things will change."
There was a tense silence in the room. Coulson, who had been listening carefully, exchanged a look with Fury but didn't say anything. He trusted Fury's instincts, but even Coulson couldn't deny that something about Andrew's words gave him pause.
Fury seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded slowly, his jaw tight. "You've warned us before. But you need to understand, Anderson—time's not on our side. We can't afford to sit on information, even if it might change things."
"Have you forgotten how this was supposed to happen 2 months from now?!" Andrew shouted.
"Instead, it's happening as we speak. It's happening right now because I told you about it."
Fury's eyes flickered. He was already aware of this, but hearing Andrew say it out loud made it all the more real.
"If I tell you any more…" Andrew's voice grew colder.
"Things might escalate where we won't even have time to respond. I don't want to be responsible for what comes next, especially if people's lives are included. Some things are better left unknown. The best we can do is prepare for it. But you have to trust me on it."
"I don't trust anyone."
"I know."
Fury remained silent, considering the weight of the warning, but his expression remained stoic.
"We'll play it your way, Anderson. But don't mistake caution for ignorance."
Andrew nodded, the conversation hanging heavy in the air. "Just promise me you'll be prepared for the chaos ahead," Andrew suggested, once again firming his decision to walk away as soon as the invasion ends.
Fury turned sharply, motioning for the group to assemble.
"No more talking. Let's get moving."
They've found the man, Heinrich Schafer, his house and his warehouse. The team was divided. One team led by the captain, with the Black Widow and Andrew as the member, they were in charge of locating the man. While the other team was led by Coulson, with about ten lower-level agents, they were to secure the warehouse until the other team arrive with the owner.
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.
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The mansion of Heinrich stood in near silence, nestled among towering trees on the outskirts of the city. Its elegant façade, polished marble, and gleaming glass seemed untouched by the darkness that had begun to creep across the world.
Inside, the family was fast asleep—father, mother, and children in their rooms, safe in their world of wealth and privilege. But this tranquility was shattered in an instant.
Loki, the God of Mischief, stood at the foot of the grand staircase. The light from the chandelier above gleamed on his armor, reflecting a sinister glint in his eyes. He had come for something crucial for Hawkeye to obtain Iridium in the warehouse, the man's eye, which was needed for the retina scan.
With a flick of his wrist, the door to the master bedroom burst open, and his presence washed over the room like a dark storm. The wife awoke first, but her eyes went wide with terror as she tried to scream.
Loki's scepter, gleaming with deadly energy, struck her first. A wave of violet light erupted, silencing her with terrifying finality. Her body went rigid. Eyes wide with fear. Then—stillness.
Her husband was not granted the same mercy.
Without hesitation, Loki produced a cruel, metallic device—the tool to extract an eye. The man's scream tore through the room, raw and agonizing. She watched, helpless, tears streaking down her motionless face. Trapped inside her own body. Forced to witness.
Upstairs, the children stirred, startled by the familiar scream. Fear and confusion clouded their sleepy eyes. But before they could move, Loki's power reached them. A flash of light. A surge of control. Their bodies froze mid-motion, faces contorted in silent horror—just like their mother.
They were no longer a family. They were statues in Loki's gallery of cruelty.
As the god of mischief turned to leave, he was met at the doorway by a man holding a shield. It didn't stop him. It didn't even slow him. Loki only smirked.
Moments later, a woman emerged behind Loki—two young girls at her side.
He stared, horrified.
Above, in the quiet hum of the quinjet, Natasha's knuckles whitened on the controls.
This wasn't a god.
This was a monster.
When Andrew saw what Loki did, he felt guilty. They wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for him. That was also the reason he volunteered to join Steve and Natasha. So, if something like this happened, he would do something about it.
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Meanwhile, Clint Barton and his team had already infiltrated the Iridium facility. The guards at the entry were barely a threat to their precision. Silent shots rang out, and within moments, the security team was neutralized, their bodies crumpled against the cold concrete floors. Barton and his two allies—silent, deadly—moved in perfect synchrony.
"We're clear," Barton muttered as he examined the high-tech vault. His allies gave him a bag, within it was the device needed for the retina scan. Within seconds, the vault door groaned open, revealing the iridium in all its glowing glory.
Barton's fingers hovered over the element, his eyes scanning the contents of the vault. His objective was clear, but even he knew that grabbing the iridium would be the easy part. Getting out was always the harder task.
The moment they took the iridium, the atmosphere inside the facility shifted. A deep rumble vibrated through the building—a signal that their presence was no longer a secret.
"Time to go," Barton barked, signaling his team to move.
Just as they turned to make their exit, the sound of clanging boots echoed down the hall. The SHIELD strike team, led by Agent Coulson, stormed into the facility. They had arrived.
Coulson's eyes immediately locked onto Barton. "Drop the iridium and surrender!"
Barton smirked, taking a casual stance. "Coulson, always the party pooper."
Without hesitation, the two sides collided. Coulson's team moved with precision, trained to handle these kinds of missions. But Barton and his team were just as lethal. In an instant, the hall erupted into chaos.
Gunfire echoed, ricocheting off metal walls. Barton fired back with ruthless efficiency, his specialized arrows flying with deadly accuracy. One of Coulson's agents went down, and another followed. Their numbers of ten immediately down to half.
Coulson, as always, led from the front. He advanced on Barton, narrowly dodging a bolt that whizzed past his ear. The two locked eyes, and for a brief moment, it was as if they were the only ones in the room.
"I'm not letting you take this," Coulson growled.
Barton's lips twisted into a grin, but before he could respond, one of his allies fell to the floor, wounded by a well-placed shot. "Fall back!" Barton barked, realizing the tide was turning. With a well timed shot, an arrow hit the ground and exploded which took Coulson and his men's vision and hearing.
Hawkeye's men grabbed the iridium, and with a final, venomous glare at Coulson direction, he and his remaining two allies made their escape. The facility was in chaos, but Barton had the element. That was all that mattered.
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Loki smirked at his adversary, his shadowy figure framed against the starless night. The iridium was already in Barton's hands, but surrender could wait—there was still fun to be had.
Captain America stood firm, shield raised, eyes burning with resolve.
"Let them go, Loki," Steve Rogers said, his voice edged with unexpected venom as his gaze flicked to the woman and two children cowering beside the trickster god. "They have nothing to do with this."
Loki didn't respond and raised his scepter with a flick of his wrist.
"Kill him even at the cost of your own lives." The cruel command was given.
The woman and her two daughters sprinted toward Captain America, moving as fast as their bodies would allow under Loki's control. Steve gritted his teeth, dropped his shield, and opened his arms wide to brace for impact. He couldn't hurt them—not innocents.
They crashed into him, and he held them tightly, absorbing the full force.
Steve had always known Loki was dangerous—but this was different. Twisting civilians into weapons? That was beyond cruel. And he wasn't about to let the trickster walk away from this. Not while lives were still in danger.
Loki's eyes glittered with amusement.
"So predictable."
His scepter thrummed with energy, then fired.
A surge of crackling blue light engulfed Steve and the three civilians. But Steve didn't flinch.
Loki watched with delight, grinning at the scene unfolding before him.
"Truly predictable," he muttered, savoring the moment.
Then—
A sharp click echoed beside him. Too close.
Before he could turn, an explosion of force slammed into the side of his head, sending him flying, tumbling across the ground. His scepter left his hand and dropped.
At the spot where Loki had just stood, Andrew now stood firm—still aiming the Noisy Cricket, glowing faintly from the shot.
If Loki had been human, his head would've been obliterated.
Natasha's eyes widened.
"How did he get there?"
Andrew was supposed to be in the Quinjet with her. She turned—only to see the ship's interior completely empty.
"When did he get out?" she whispered.
Captain America held the three civilians as tightly as he could. They thrashed in his arms, desperately trying to break free, still under Loki's influence.
"Hold them just a bit longer, Cap!" Andrew shouted, sprinting over and grabbing Loki's fallen scepter.
He hesitated for half a second.
"Hope this works..."
Andrew pointed the glowing tip at the mother's chest. A flash of light—and the blue hue vanished from her eyes. She blinked, then collapsed into sobs. Encouraged, he turned the scepter on the two girls. One after another, the spell broke. Both children started crying—shaking, scared, but free.
Andrew turned to Steve.
"Captain—close your eyes."
Steve's eyes narrowed, then widened in recognition. He saw the small, silver device in Andrew's hand—familiar. Too familiar.
He shut his eyes without hesitation.
Natasha, unsure if the device would affect her too, instinctively followed suit.
'Why does it feel familiar?' she thought.
Andrew pulled on his Ray-Ban sunglasses.
"Ma'am, please look right here—routine eye exam," he said gently.
The woman looked up. So did the children.
Click.
A flash of white light burst from the Neuralyzer. The pain and confusion melted from their faces, replaced by blank calm.
Andrew crouched in front of them and spoke softly.
"Your husband. Your father. Heinrich Schäfer... was a hero."
The woman's eyes welled with tears—but this time, not from fear. She nodded slowly, pulling her daughters close.
Steve gave a solemn nod of approval.
Natasha said nothing. Her gaze was fixed on Loki's unconscious form—then on the Quinjet's weapons system, still primed and ready.
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A few moments later...
Natasha cuffed Loki's still-unconscious body and, with Andrew's help, dragged him toward the Quinjet.
A sonic boom split the air as Iron Man rocketed into view, his suit streaking across the sky.
"It's over already?" Tony's voice crackled through the comms, laced with surprise.
Steve glanced up at him.
"Better late than never, Stark."
Satisfied the coast was clear, Tony touched down and retracted his helmet with a smooth hiss.
"Nice work, Cap."
Natasha's voice came through the Quinjet's comms, brisk and direct.
"Everyone inside. Now."
Andrew didn't respond. His attention was locked on Loki, watching him like a hawk—cold, unreadable.
He hadn't even acknowledged Tony's arrival.
Then—thunder rumbled overhead. Before the two can get inside, the sky darkened and Loki stirred.
The first thing he felt was the pain—a deep, throbbing ache at the side of his skull. His wrists were bound in some kind of high-tech cuffs. Unbreakable, even for him.
He was strapped into a seat aboard the Quinjet. Dim lighting. Humming engines. And across from him—Andrew.
Eyes sharp. Unblinking.
"Who are you?" Loki growled, eyes narrowing. "Who shot me?!"
Another roll of thunder cracked through the skies. Loki's head snapped upward, his eyes instinctively drawn to the ceiling—beyond it, the storm.
"He's here," he muttered.
Andrew didn't blink.
"I don't care."
His voice was cold. Deadly. His hands are itching to take out something from his inventory—Judgement.
Loki's gaze on Andrew's face—and smirked.
He could see it. The barely restrained fury. The guilt.
Yes. Even now, with templates integrated, Andrew was himself since the templates don't interfere with his personality or traits. He was weighed down by the consequences of altering the timeline
"Living a quiet life in this world," he said softly, almost to himself, "is going to be quite difficult."
End of Chapter