Ding! The host has discovered Rogers, the future Captain America, and unlocked the conditions for completing a future mission. Reward: three special lottery draws.
Ding! Main mission triggered: establish contact with future Steve Rogers and steal the time-travel Ant-Man suit. Completion reward: one additional lottery draw.
The mechanical voice echoed in his mind, startling Allens out of his meditation. His eyes shut tight as his consciousness sank into the Heroes Rising System.
According to the system's explanation, by discovering the elderly version of Captain America, Allens had completed a hidden quest and gained insight into the future. The reward for such a task was generous—three lottery draws.
Ecstatic, Allens immediately activated the lottery. A massive wheel appeared in his mind, covered with the names of countless abilities:
— Hiro Nakamura's time-space manipulation.
— Sylar's ability to perceive the laws of the world.
— Matt Parkman's telepathy.
— Hydrokinesis.
— Pyrokinesis.
— Technopathy.
— Power replication.
— Future precognition.
And dozens more.
One in particular made his mouth dry: Sylar's terrifying ability to understand and manipulate the rules of everything around him. It was practically a cheat code.
Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining Psychokinesis.
The mechanical chime rang again, and Allens felt a roaring pressure in his skull. The world around him shifted—objects, sounds, even the air itself felt sharper.
Psychokinesis. The power of Bryan Davis, one of the gifted. The ability to move objects with the mind. In Sylar's hands, it had become a weapon of terrifying versatility—deadly in both offense and defense.
Now, Allens possessed it. His body felt lighter, his surroundings clearer, as if he had stepped into another dimension of existence.
"Sir, your mocha."
A waitress approached, placing a cup of coffee in front of him with a polite smile.
"Thanks."
Allens returned her smile, slipping a bill onto the tray with a gentleman's grace. After she left, his gaze fell hungrily on the coffee sitting just out of reach.
He raised his hand. "Let's try this…"
With a thought, invisible power surged from him, wrapping around the cup.
Crack!
The porcelain shattered instantly, his control too heavy-handed. Coffee splashed across the table—yet before a drop could hit the floor, Allens clenched his hand. The liquid gathered midair, held aloft by sheer will, before he flicked it neatly into the trash bin. Not a drop spilled.
A satisfied smile tugged at his lips. "Finally… a way to survive in the Marvel world."
Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining Future Precognition.
Again the system's voice rang. This time, Allens felt a subtle shift in perception—his thoughts stretching beyond the present, glimpsing possible moments yet to come.
The ability once belonged to Isaac Mendez. Though simple—merely seeing glimpses of the future—its significance was enormous.
"Not bad," Allens mused. "Even if it seems weak, this ability will be indispensable for my plans. The old Captain America's appearance proved it—the timeline is more complicated than I thought. I'll need this."
Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining Illusion.
The system chimed a third time. Illusion—the ability once held by Candice Wilmer. The power to create a hallucination field so real it could fool all five senses, and even be recorded by cameras and devices.
In short, a trick on par with Aizen's perfect hypnosis—short-lived, but devastating in its effect.
"Psychokinesis, precognition, illusion… plus persuasion. Four powers. More than enough to handle my next mission."
Allens stood, satisfied. But as he walked toward the door, a strange sight remained: another Allens, still sitting at the table, quietly sipping coffee. A waiter approached, smiling.
"Sir, would you like anything else?"
The illusionary Allens looked perfectly real to the waiter. He didn't even glance at the figure standing nearby.
"Convenient," the real Allens smirked. "Illusion is going to be very useful."
Casting one last look at the decoy, he slipped into the crowded street.
For a moment he paused, eyes flickering toward the empty bench in the plaza, then disappeared into the sea of people.
Meanwhile, not far from that very bench, an old man in a hood slowly stood up. His gaze followed the path Allens had taken, his expression grave.
"That boy… why does he make me uneasy?"
It was Rogers. Steve Rogers.
Unlike the naïve Captain America of the 1940s, this was the man who had lived through Thanos' snap, who had seen half the universe die. A man hardened by experience. A man cautious even in victory.
That much was obvious—after all, this was the same Captain America who once had the resolve to whisper "Hail Hydra" in order to secure the Space Stone. The Rogers of the old days would never have dared.
In 2023, after the Avengers defeated Thanos, Rogers had returned the six Infinity Stones to their rightful places. And then, quietly, he chose a different path—laying down his shield, abandoning his public life, and spending his final years with the woman he loved.
For decades, he had lived in peace, hidden even from S.H.I.E.L.D. itself. But the young man he had encountered today… Allens… stirred something inside him. A ripple in waters long still.
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