Chapter 10: Steve Never Gives Up
Two weeks after his arctic expedition, Rory returned to New York City with more than just frostbite and exhaustion. Hidden within a specially crafted dental crown—a masterpiece of miniaturization that would have impressed even Tony Stark—were microscopic sample containers holding the most dangerous genetic material on Earth.
The crown had been his insurance policy, a way to smuggle biological samples across timelines without detection. Now, standing in his makeshift laboratory in an abandoned tire factory near the South Street Seaport, he carefully extracted his prize.
The building had been foreclosed on by Chase Manhattan Bank after the previous owner's bankruptcy. Rory had acquired it through a shell company for a fraction of its value, giving him several thousand square feet of industrial space with minimal oversight. Perfect for work that couldn't bear scrutiny.
Donning full protective gear—lab coat, surgical mask, safety goggles, and nitrile gloves—Rory meticulously removed the crown and extracted the sample containers. Three vials, each no larger than a grain of rice: Thanos's blood, Jessica Jones's enhanced genetics, and now, most crucially, a sample from the frozen Steve Rogers.
The Captain America blood sample had required the most delicate extraction. Working in subzero temperatures with improvised equipment, Rory had managed to collect cellular material that had been perfectly preserved for decades. The super-soldier serum had created a stable enhancement to human genetics—exactly what he needed as a bridge between baseline humanity and Eternal physiology.
He placed all three samples into a sterile cultivation chamber and began the painstaking process of cellular reproduction. Without access to 21st-century equipment—automated sequencers, quantum computers, advanced centrifuges—progress was maddeningly slow. But Rory was patient. He had time, resources, and most importantly, a goal that justified any amount of effort.
After weeks of careful experimentation, combining elements from all three genetic sources, he finally produced something that might work: a serum that retained the pure essence of Thanos's Eternal heritage while being diluted enough for human physiology to potentially survive integration.
This wasn't the crude fusion approach that had created monstrosities like Abomination or Red Skull. This was precision genetic engineering, using the super-soldier serum as a stabilizer and Jessica Jones's enhanced human genetics as a compatibility bridge.
The current formula was still too dangerous for human testing, but it represented a breakthrough. The door to Eternal enhancement had been opened. Now it was just a matter of refinement.
Meanwhile, across town at Stark Industries headquarters, Peggy Carter was leading Steve Rogers through the chrome and glass corridors of America's most innovative technology company.
"Hello, we have an appointment with Howard Stark," Peggy told the receptionist, who checked her schedule before directing them to the executive elevator.
Howard's private laboratory occupied the entire top floor of the building, a sprawling workspace filled with prototypes, blueprints, and experiments that wouldn't see commercial application for decades. He was hunched over a workbench, tinkering with what appeared to be a miniaturized arc reactor, when Peggy's polite cough interrupted his concentration.
"Oh, Peggy! It's been too long," Howard said, looking up with a warm smile that froze on his face when he noticed her companion.
The wrench fell from Howard's suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering to the floor.
"Steve? Is that... how is that possible?"
"Hello, Howard," Steve replied with a slight wave. "Long time no see."
Howard's mind raced through possibilities—doubles, life model decoys, hallucinations brought on by too much coffee and too little sleep. But the voice, the posture, the unmistakable presence of his old friend was undeniable.
"I thought... we all thought you were dead. The Valkyrie, the ice, the search teams found nothing..." Howard's voice trailed off as the implications hit him. "How long have you been alive? Where have you been?"
Steve exchanged a glance with Peggy, both of them aware that the truth was far too complicated for this moment. "It's a long story, Howard. Maybe someday I'll tell you all of it. Right now, I need your help with something else."
Howard was still staring, trying to process the impossible sight of his supposedly dead friend standing in his laboratory, looking exactly as he had the day he'd crashed into the Arctic Ocean.
"Steve, the war's over," Howard said slowly. "You should be celebrating, not working. You should be..." his eyes flicked to Peggy, "living the life you never got to have."
Peggy stepped closer to Steve, taking his arm in a gesture of support and affection. "Howard's right, you know. But I also know you well enough to recognize that look. You won't rest until you've handled whatever's bothering you."
Steve smiled at her understanding, but the expression was troubled. "There's a man named Rory that Stark Industries has been funding. I need to meet with him, and I need your company's resources to make it happen."
Howard blinked, trying to shift mental gears from the shock of seeing his dead friend alive to the mundane world of corporate investments. "That's it? That's what has you so worried? A simple business meeting?"
"This man represents a significant threat, Howard. I know that sounds paranoid, but I have reasons to be concerned about his research."
Howard looked to Peggy, who nodded seriously. Whatever Steve's concerns were, she shared them.
"Alright," Howard said, moving to his desk and activating the intercom. "Get me the investment division. I need the complete file on someone named Rory—immediately."
Within minutes, a secretary delivered a thick folder containing Rory's investment proposal, financial records, and research summaries.
Howard flipped through the documents quickly, his scientific mind automatically analyzing the data. "Says here he's working on neurochemistry—specifically, a pharmaceutical approach to treating severe mental illness. Looks like he's made significant progress too. Clinical trials are approved through our medical research division."
Steve and Peggy studied the paperwork together, looking for anything that might confirm Steve's suspicions. At first glance, everything appeared legitimate—even admirable. Mental health treatment was a neglected field in 1970, and effective medications could help millions of people.
But as Steve read more carefully, inconsistencies began to emerge.
"Howard, look at this timeline. He's projecting three months for the first phase of trials, then another six months for refinement and secondary testing."
"That's standard for pharmaceutical research," Howard replied. "If anything, it's optimistic. Drug development usually takes years, not months."
"That's exactly my point," Steve said grimly. "If Rory is who I think he is, he could complete this research in three days, not three months. The fact that he's projecting a realistic timeline means he's hiding something."
Howard frowned. "Steve, that's impossible. I've been working in advanced chemistry for decades, and I can tell you that revolutionary breakthroughs don't happen overnight. Even with unlimited resources and the best equipment, complex research takes time."
Steve couldn't explain his knowledge of Rory's future origins without revealing his own time travel, leaving him frustrated and seemingly paranoid. But every instinct he'd developed through decades of warfare and leadership was screaming that something was wrong.
"Howard, you have to trust me. This man is not what he appears to be. I need you to arrange a meeting—somewhere secure, with backup protocols in place."
At that very moment, Rory was conducting his most crucial experiment yet. A white laboratory mouse sat in a reinforced glass chamber, unaware that it was about to become the first test subject for a serum derived from the Mad Titan's blood.
Rory filled a precise syringe with 0.1 milliliters of his carefully diluted formula—enough to trigger transformation without immediately overwhelming the subject's physiology. He made careful notes in his research journal before opening the chamber's access port.
The injection took seconds. The mouse barely seemed to notice, returning to its normal behavior of exploring the chamber and sniffing for food.
For the first twenty seconds, nothing happened.
Then the mouse's behavior shifted dramatically. It began moving with erratic, aggressive motions, throwing itself against the walls of the chamber with no regard for injury. But instead of the pain and exhaustion such impacts should have caused, the mouse seemed energized by the violence.
"Cellular regeneration is accelerated," Rory noted, watching as minor cuts and bruises healed almost instantly. "Pain response appears to be suppressed or altered."
At the thirty-second mark, the mouse's fur began to fall out in patches, not from injury but from the rapid cellular changes occurring throughout its body. Within minutes, the creature was completely bald, its skin taking on a slightly purple tint.
"Genetic resequencing is proceeding faster than anticipated," Rory muttered, adjusting his recording equipment to capture every detail.
The transformation continued for another two minutes before the mouse suddenly collapsed, convulsing briefly before falling still. But even in death, the changes weren't finished. The creature's muscle mass was visibly increasing, bones lengthening and thickening, organs restructuring themselves according to some alien blueprint encoded in Thanos's DNA.
"Subject expired from cardiovascular failure," Rory recorded. "However, post-mortem enhancement continues, suggesting that the serum's effects are not dependent on active metabolism. Fascinating."
The dead mouse now looked nothing like the creature he'd injected. It was larger, more muscular, with skin that seemed almost metallic in its density. Even in failure, the experiment had provided invaluable data about how Eternal genetics might be integrated with Earth-based life forms.
Rory carefully preserved the remains for further study, then began preparing for the next phase of testing. The serum needed refinement, but the fundamental approach was sound. With enough time and experimentation, he could create something that would grant him the power to reshape reality itself.
He had no idea that at that very moment, three of Earth's greatest minds were planning his capture.
End of Chapter 10
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