Chapter 8: I'm Not a Bad Guy
The theoretical framework was promising—using Jessica Jones's enhanced genetics as a bridge to stabilize Thanos's cellular material in human blood. But theory and practice were two very different things.
When Rory woke up, he resisted the urge to immediately begin experimentation. His encounter with Jessica Jones at Mickey's Diner had been productive, though not in the way he'd initially hoped. She'd been suspicious, guarded, and ultimately unwilling to provide any biological samples. However, their conversation had given him insights into enhanced human physiology that might prove useful.
Instead of rushing into untested procedures, Rory decided to focus on expanding his existing Thanos blood cultures. He'd learned from Tony Stark's approach to innovation—always have backup samples and redundant systems.
He grabbed a protein bar and watched his surveillance feeds while eating. The monitors showed the usual Hell's Kitchen morning activity, but something was different. More black SUVs than usual. More people in dark suits talking into earpieces.
"Haven't given up yet, have you, Steve?" Rory muttered, spotting Captain America on one of the feeds.
The net was tightening. Through his expanded camera network, Rory could see the systematic search pattern the Avengers were using. Professional. Military. Inevitable.
"Clint, how's your sector?" Steve's voice crackled through intercepted radio chatter.
"Nothing yet, Cap. But this guy's smart—smarter than we gave him credit for. I think we need more eyes on this."
Rory switched between feeds, mentally cataloging the search teams. After the final battle with Thanos, most of the Avengers had scattered to handle their own priorities. Thor had left Asgard in Valkyrie's capable hands before joining the Guardians of the Galaxy on some cosmic road trip. Captain Marvel was, as always, dealing with galactic-level threats that kept her off-world most of the time.
Bruce Banner and War Machine were focused on rebuilding the Avengers compound upstate. Doctor Strange and the other sorcerers were handling mystical threats that apparently didn't include wayward time travelers. Wanda Maximoff had disappeared entirely after the battle—grief had a way of making people want to vanish. Peter Parker was juggling his Spider-Man duties with getting back to high school, leaving the street-level manhunt to the core team.
But Steve Rogers was persistent, and he'd called in reinforcements.
Sam Wilson descended from the sky in a controlled glide, his metallic wings folding as he landed. "Steve, Nick Fury sends his regards. And his drones."
Bucky Barnes emerged from a black SUV, followed by a full tactical team of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Even after the organization's multiple deaths and resurrections, Fury had somehow managed to maintain operational capabilities.
"Here's what we know," Steve briefed the assembled team. "Rory is highly intelligent, possibly genius-level. He's demonstrated proficiency with advanced technology, quantum mechanics, and now potentially genetic engineering. Consider him extremely dangerous, but remember—we need him alive and cooperative if we're going to get him back to his proper timeline."
"Copy that, Cap," Sam replied, releasing a small squadron of reconnaissance drones from his pack.
"Target acquired," War Machine's voice came through their comms from the temporary command center. "Satellite imagery confirms movement in sector seven. Sending coordinates now."
Rory watched the tactical deployment through his cameras and sighed. "Really? All this for one guy with a test tube?"
The search was closing in faster than he'd anticipated. Time to make some hard choices.
Two days of careful evasion later, Rory made a calculated mistake. Emerging from a dental clinic—he'd needed emergency work on a cracked molar—he momentarily forgot about the street-level cameras that his interceptors couldn't access.
The facial recognition alert chimed immediately at Avengers headquarters.
"Got him!" Rhodes announced, transmitting the feed to Steve's earpiece. "Suspect identified on 41st Street, heading south. Black jacket, Yankees cap, sunglasses."
"All units converge," Steve ordered.
Sam arrived first, dropping from the sky with practiced precision. His landing still startled Rory, who clutched his chest dramatically.
"Is this how all superheroes make an entrance? Or do you just enjoy giving ordinary citizens heart attacks for the insurance claims?"
Sam's expression softened slightly behind his tactical goggles. "Only works on the guilty ones."
"Guilty of what, exactly?" Rory tilted his head innocently. "What terrible crimes have I committed?"
Sam opened his mouth, then closed it. The truth was, he didn't actually know what Rory had done wrong. Steve had said they needed to find him, and that was usually enough. Trust was the foundation of the Avengers.
"Cap will explain everything," Sam said finally.
Black SUVs rounded the corners with military precision, and within minutes the street was secured. Hawkeye took position on a nearby fire escape, his compound bow ready. Bucky flanked from the left, his vibranium arm gleaming in the afternoon sun. Steve Rogers approached directly, shield on his back, hands visible but ready.
Rory leaned casually against a brick wall, the picture of calm resignation. "Steve," he said as the super-soldier approached, "please tell me this is all some massive misunderstanding."
Steve's expression was grim but not unkind. "Hand over the samples, Rory. Then we can talk about getting you home."
"What samples? And home to where?" Rory's voice carried just the right note of confusion.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. As for where—back to 1970, where you belong."
"Ah." Rory's expression shifted, becoming harder. "So now we get to the truth of it."
He straightened up, no longer playing the innocent. "Tell me, Steve—when Howard Stark was experimenting with the Tesseract in the 1940s, did anyone arrest him for possessing dangerous alien technology? When Hank Pym was developing shrinking particles that could theoretically destabilize molecular structure, did S.H.I.E.L.D. lock him up? When Tony created an AI that nearly destroyed the world, did you throw him in prison?"
Steve's jaw tightened. "That's different."
"Is it? Or is it just that when you do the research, it's for the greater good, but when I do it, it's dangerous and irresponsible?" Rory's voice carried genuine anger now. "You've created super-soldiers, city-destroying robots, and god knows what else. But I'm the threat?"
"Thanos's blood is too dangerous—"
"More dangerous than gamma radiation? More dangerous than an AI with nuclear launch codes? More dangerous than a Nazi supersoldier serum that created the Red Skull?" Rory shook his head. "The only difference between us, Steve, is that you wear the flag and I don't. That makes you the hero and me the villain, regardless of our actual actions."
The street fell silent except for the distant sounds of New York traffic. Steve's team maintained their positions, but Rory could see uncertainty in their faces. He was making sense, and they knew it.
"I haven't hurt anyone," Rory continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. "I haven't threatened anyone. I haven't even left my laboratory except for basic supplies. My only crime is possessing something you're afraid of."
Steve was quiet for a long moment. The shadows of his past—the Red Skull, Hydra, the price of unchecked power—weighed heavily on him. But so did the memory of watching Tony Stark die to stop a threat they'd all underestimated.
"Show me," Steve said finally.
"What?"
"Show me your research. Let me see what you're really working on. If it's as harmless as you claim, prove it."
Rory studied the Captain's face, looking for deception, then nodded slowly. "Fine. But you come alone. No backup, no weapons, no shield. If you really want to understand what I'm doing, you do it on my terms."
Steve considered this, then handed his shield to Bucky. "Stand down. Give us some space."
"Steve—" Sam started.
"It's alright. If he wanted to hurt me, he could have done it a dozen times since 1970."
Rory led Steve through the building's service entrance, down maintenance stairs that most people didn't know existed, to his hidden laboratory. The space was cramped but organized, filled with jury-rigged equipment and careful documentation.
"This," Rory said, gesturing to a series of test tubes, "is what's left of Thanos's blood. Roughly three milliliters, diluted to less than one percent concentration."
Steve examined the samples—barely enough liquid to cover the bottom of each tube.
"And this," Rory continued, pulling up files on his computer, "is eighteen months of research into safely neutralizing Eternal genetic material. I'm not trying to recreate Thanos, Steve. I'm trying to understand how to counteract him."
Steve read over the research notes, his expression gradually changing. "These calculations... you're working on a vaccine?"
"A genetic inoculation, yes. Something that would make human beings immune to Eternal genetic manipulation. Do you have any idea what Thanos could have done if he'd realized he could simply rewrite human DNA instead of killing half of us?"
The implications hit Steve like a physical blow. A Thanos who could control rather than destroy would have been infinitely more dangerous.
"I'm not the bad guy, Steve," Rory said quietly. "I'm trying to make sure that the next time someone like him shows up, we're ready."
Steve was quiet for a long time, studying the research, the careful safety protocols, the obvious dedication to protecting rather than harming.
"The time travel thing?" he asked finally.
"A side project. I figured if I could perfect temporal displacement, I could go back and warn people about threats before they became unstoppable. But the quantum mechanics are beyond my current resources."
Steve nodded slowly, then looked up at Rory. "I owe you an apology. We all do."
"Keep your apology," Rory replied. "Just give me the chance to finish this work. The universe is a dangerous place, Steve. We need every advantage we can get."
Steve extended his hand. "Partners?"
Rory shook it. "Partners."
End of Chapter 8
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