"Interesting… Not just highly similar, but an exact copy."
The voice of the 2016 Homelander rang out at last. His tone was flat, devoid of warmth, but the sharp edges of his words carried a natural authority that pressed against everyone present like a suffocating weight.
His face betrayed nothing—cold, stern, unyielding. He radiated the oppressive composure of a king surveying an intruder.
Alex narrowed his eyes. So, he doesn't know who I am?
A ripple of confusion tugged at his thoughts. By all logic, this version of himself should have instantly recognized him. After all, he wasn't some stranger—he was Alex. He had lived through everything Alex had, right?
The time-travel to 2023. The mutants' disappearance. The Endgame battle. The journey back to 2016.
If this was truly his 2016 self, then shouldn't they share all those memories?
Yet the cold, unknowing gaze in front of him said otherwise.
"Wait…" Alex's breath caught as the realization struck him. He had fallen into a trap of assumption.
He'd been reasoning as if this were a linear timeline, the classic "change the past and the future shifts" kind of logic. But this wasn't some simple tale. This was Marvel's multiverse.
And in Marvel, the rules of time ran cruel and uncompromising: changing the past did not change the future.
No, every interference birthed a branch. A fracture. A new reality carved from the old.
When Captain America and Iron Man had traveled from 2023 into 1964 to find him, they hadn't altered his reality. They'd merely created another. A new branch universe where that Alex had gone on to live differently.
The Alex standing here now—this 2016 Homelander—was not from that branch.
He was prime. Untouched. The Alex who had never met the Avengers of the future, who had never joined the Endgame battle, who had never once stepped into the year 2023.
So of course he doesn't recognize me…
Alex dragged a hand across his face, muttering, "Well, this is a fine mess."
He was going to have to prove his own identity—to himself.
"Should I know you?"
The 2016 Homelander's eyes narrowed, his voice carrying the weight of absolute dominance. "You have five seconds. Otherwise, I won't be polite."
Alex's lips twitched. Yeah, that's me all right. That cocky tone? Definitely me.
And he knew, more than anyone else, that his other self wasn't bluffing. If he failed to deliver, the 2016 Alex wouldn't hesitate. He would strike.
But there was something else—a curiosity, a hunger gnawing inside him.
Just how strong am I here?
This version of him was years younger in experience but already carried a power that made even Thanos wary. A cosmic-level existence, standing unchallenged at the top of the food chain.
A dangerous thought flickered through Alex's mind. Maybe I should test him. Just a little…
But first, survival. He couldn't let himself be blasted to ashes by his own doppelgänger in the opening act.
So he spoke.
"The sky king covers the tiger; stewed mushrooms with chick!"
The words, bizarre and nonsensical to anyone else, rang like thunder in the ears of the 2016 Homelander. His cold façade cracked, his eyes widening in disbelief.
Alex smirked inwardly. Those weren't Marvel's words. They belonged to his past life—the human Alex who had lived on Earth before this transmigration.
No one else could possibly know them.
He didn't stop there. He rattled off a few more phrases, each more ridiculous than the last, every one a nail driven into the coffin of doubt.
The 2016 Homelander froze. A storm churned behind his eyes, the rigid mask of indifference finally breaking.
Gilgamesh, Makkari, and Tina, watching from the side, could only gape. To them, the words sounded like some ancient, cryptic incantation, profound and unfathomable.
"What… are you?" The 2016 Homelander's voice was low, vibrating with disbelief. The hostility he had wielded moments earlier melted into suspicion, into something heavier: recognition.
Alex's lips curled. "What do you think?"
"Tell me the name of your dream goddess."
The question came suddenly, heavy and sharp.
Alex stiffened. That was private. Incredibly private. It was something only he knew, something buried deep in his past life.
The caution in the other's voice said it all—he was still suspicious.
But Alex only chuckled, his smile edged with challenge. "You want to know? Then you'll have to pay a price."
His eyes lit up, burning with reckless excitement. "Show me how much you're worth right now."
Before the last word fell, he blurred into motion. His body snapped forward with super speed, surging toward the 2016 Homelander like a cannonball of flesh and fury.
The wind howled, concrete cracked beneath the sudden force—
—only for his vision to twist. A gust of air brushed the back of his neck.
He pivoted on instinct, eyes widening.
Behind him stood the 2016 Homelander, calm, smiling faintly, as if everything Alex did was a child's tantrum.
"Watch out," he said softly.
Then his fist drove forward.
Alex didn't flinch. He roared and met it with his own, summoning every ounce of power in his body.
Boom!
The world exploded.
The collision was a thunderclap that rattled buildings, a shockwave that blasted dust and debris into the air. Alex felt it immediately—an overwhelming force that dwarfed his own.
It surged through his bones, rattled his organs, and hurled him backwards like a ragdoll.
If not for the sudden shimmer of a psionic barrier conjured behind him by his counterpart, Alex would've smashed through half the block before crashing to the ground.
His body trembled. Strong… he's too strong!
That was a casual punch. A single wave of his hand. And it had nearly broken him.
But far from despair, Alex's lips spread into a grin. His blood boiled with excitement.
Zap!
Twin beams of blazing heat vision erupted from his eyes, streaking toward the 2016 Homelander like fiery lances.
The other didn't dodge. He simply narrowed his gaze, answering with his own beams.
Two pairs of crimson lines met mid-air, colliding with a hiss. For a heartbeat, the clash held steady, a contest of raw focus and burning intensity.
But then—
Alex's beams faltered. The crimson torrent from his older self surged forward, swallowing his own and smashing into him with blinding force.
His body screamed in protest as he was thrown back once again, heat searing against his skin.
Hovering calmly, the 2016 Homelander didn't move an inch. His expression remained neutral, as though swatting away an insect.
Alex coughed, smoke curling from his clothes. His chest heaved with pain, but his eyes gleamed brighter than ever.
So this is my future? My true strength?
And for the first time, he understood why others looked at him with fear.
Because staring at this other version of himself, even he felt fear.
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