"BREAKING NEWS: Terrorist Attack on SHIELD Embassy."
"The Return of Captain America?"
"UN Comments on Supposed Civil Unrest. President Alshaz–"
A voice cut through the overlapping broadcasts. "Enjoying seeing your handiwork?"
"Maybe. Haha…" I hesitated, but only for a second. "I knew this would be big, but seeing the reaction in practice is kinda insane."
I glanced at the line of TVs in the private airport lounge. Each one had a different news report, all retelling some version of the events. Through the window overlooking the terminal, I could see clusters of passengers huddled around screens, necks all angled toward the same story.
"It's not all bad, at least," Zemo said. "The public attack covered up the outpost incident. Captain America coming back from the dead took most of the flak." He let out an incredulous laugh. "Insanity."
"Hope we weren't too conspicuous," I said.
"No. The pair of clown masks with seemingly fucking magic wasn't conspicuous at all," he deadpanned. "It was… lucky. Only eyewitness statements. The story hasn't spread yet, and SHIELD seems to be suppressing it."
I nodded. "Honestly, that might be Hydra. They probably don't want their subjects getting scooped up."
I still wasn't sure how much the powers-that-be even knew about mutants. MCU canon was a mess, and the comics were worse. History warped by retcons and cosmic nonsense.
Zemo made a quiet, irritated grunt. He always bristled at the Hydra mention.
"Anyway, put this affair behind us," he said. "Get out of Sokovia and stay gone. I had Adler work overtime."
He set a metal lockbox on the table. I whistled as I flipped it open. Birth certificates, passports, immigration forms, background sheets—each one crisp, official, obsessively detailed. Not the cheap laminate-fake-ID trash I got in high school.
"Damn," I whistled. "These are legit."
"You're welcome," Zemo grunted. "Just leave. If you stay any longer, my heart will not survive."
I snorted and dipped my head. "Thank you. Really."
"Just refrain from giving me more headaches," he said, rubbing at his temples. "And try not to crash the private jet I chartered."
"No promises."
Zemo leveled me with a dead stare.
"Okay, okay. I promise the plane's going to be fine."
"Hmph." He turned, adjusting his coat. "Seeing as that's everything, I need to get back to work."
"You going to be okay?"
"No…" He sighed. "But it could be worse. According to a few contacts, SHIELD is reeling. Captain America's reappearance was not an intended move. And if what you said about Hydra is true, the loss and capture of such a force is something they will scramble to hide."
"So it's so chaotic they can't really care about Sokovia, basically?"
A sharp snort. "Yes. We are too small in their eyes."
Oop. Wrong thing to say.
"Uhh…Sokovia is a great country. You know, you totally–"
"I do not need coddling," Zemo said. "I am aware of Sokovia's issues… nevertheless, I am a patriot at heart, and I will do much to stem the bleeding."
He checked his phone, expression tightening. "Truly, I must go."
I stood and reached out a hand. "For what it's worth… take care of yourself, Zemo."
He paused before taking it. His grip was firm, cool, practiced in that very Zemo way. "And you. Try to stay unnoticed for once, hm?"
"No guarantees."
"I feared as much." A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth before he buried it under exhaustion again. "Safe travels."
He stepped past me, coat brushing my arm, and headed for the exit. Just before the door slid shut behind him, he lifted a hand without turning back—a simple farewell.
I turned away from the windows and walked deeper into the private airport lounge.
The place had that strange mix of luxury and sterility, soft leather seats arranged around low glass tables, warm yellow lights reflecting off polished wood, and a lingering scent of coffee. Tall windows overlooked the runway, and the quiet felt strange after the chaos we had left behind. I figured I needed to get used to that whiplash.
Anna sat at one of the tables, posture finally relaxed after all our Hydra beatdowns. The long-sleeve jacket, fitted cargo pants, the military gloves, the whole look came together in a way that really should not have worked, but somehow did. She pulled off the dangerous-girl aesthetic without even trying. Worlds different from the imprisoned girl I had met just a couple of days ago. Now she looked like a full-on badass.
Little Bastard perched on her forearm, pecking at a glove strap. She flicked him away, and he cawed like she had insulted his honor.
"Bastard," I muttered at him as I dropped the lockbox onto the table. Papers and forgeries clinked inside.
Anna raised a brow. "Wow. That was fast."
"Apparently Adler works miracles under pressure," I said, pulling out a bundle of documents and sliding a stack toward her. "Birth certificate, passport, emergency ID, the whole package."
She flipped through hers, eyes widening. "These look real. Like, spy movie level real."
"That was the goal," I said and took the seat across from her.
She paused, then tilted her head. "Sooo… we are really off to see the wizard?"
"Yep. You ready to go, Dorothy?"
She pointed at Little Bastard. "Is this Toto?"
The crow puffed up proudly, like he had been promoted.
"I guess the SHIELD thing didn't work because of the clown masks?" she said, giggling.
"No…" I dragged the word out. "I mean, you wanted to see magic, right? It totally would have worked."
She stared at me with a deadpan that could wilt crops.
I raised my hands. "Fine. Okay. Maybe I might have slightly, very slightly, ruined our chances with SHIELD because I threw bullshit at them."
"That is totally not going to cause problems for us," Anna said, dripping sarcasm.
"Absolutely not," I said. "Probably. Maybe. Fifty-fifty."
She groaned and slumped back in her chair. Little Bastard hopped onto her shoulder like he owned it.
"Great," she chuckled. "We are fugitives on the run from two omega-sized organizations with a clown-themed reputation."
I shrugged. "Hey. It could be worse."
"Name one way."
"…We could have been mimes."
She squinted at me, trying not to laugh. "You know, you can get anything from your power. Couldn't you literally summon mimes?"
"I mean…" Horror washed over me. "Oh god. I can never draw a ticket again."
I dragged my hands down my face and collapsed backward into the plush lounge chair in faux despair. The thing swallowed me whole, which only made the despair more dramatic.
Anna snorted. "Real hero energy right there."
"I refuse to live in a world where a ticket might give me a mime,".
She nodded like she understood, then punched my shoulder. "So dramatic."
"I did get a couple of tickets, though," I said, rubbing my neck. "But if I don't want to get mimed…"
"You really want to pull them on the plane?"
"I mean, what is the worst that could happen?"
Anna raised an eyebrow.
Okay. Fair.
"Plus, we need protection against the wizardssss." She dragged the word out like she was hexing me.
I tore the bronze ticket.
[Salt]
|Trash Item|
A handful of salt distilled from the tears of failed rolls.
A soft pah sounded and a tiny pile of salt materialized mid-air before falling into my palm.
"Oh."
Anna burst into giggles and slapped my shoulder. "Guess your power is feeling salty today."
I glared. She was way too proud of herself.
"I refuse to acknowledge that pun," I said. "Or this injustice."
"Salt builds character," she said, wiping a tear. "Look, you are already seasoning up nicely."
I pretended not to hear her and tore the other ticket.
[Ring of fire resistance]
|Uncommon Item|
Dark Souls - Stoneplates, the symbol of a true knight, grant the strength to face various hardships. The red stoneplate symbolizes fire and boosts defense against flame and heat.
A jeweled ring formed in my hand, square-cut stone, red, warm to the touch, like it had been sitting by a fire.
Anna whistled. "Okay. That is actually pretty cool."
"See? I'm awesome." I snorted and tossed her the ring.
She caught it with both hands like it might vanish. "Really? Are you sure?"
"You wanted to be the magical girl," I said. "Maybe at this rate, you will get to pimp levels with enough rings."
She blinked, confused but amused. "I don't know what a magical girl is, but… thanks. For everything." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me in a tight, earnest hug.
I was flustered for a second before returning it. "No worries. Always."
We stayed like that until I noticed our ride pulling up outside.
I leaned closer and tilted my head toward the runway. "I'll give you the full magical girl crash course once we're in the air."
"I would like that," she said, smiling as she slipped the ring onto her finger.
—
The meditation room in Kamar-Taj was quiet and spare, filled with antique wood, warm lantern light, and the faint scent of old incense. It was sparse but peaceful, just the way she liked it.
The Ancient One sat in the center, eyes half-closed as time branched before her, an endless tree with limbs spiraling into infinity. Possibilities flickered like passing waves. She paused on one: New York, drowned beneath an onslaught of beings from beyond the stars. The invasion crept closer with every passing day, an inevitable battle the world would soon face.
She shook her head and followed another limb of possibility. Kamar-Taj again, Kaecilius standing before her. She spoke to him in a hundred different ways. Stern, patient, pleading, frustrated, pragmatic. She shifted tone, shifted lessons, shifted approach. Some days, her words softened him and bought a little more time. On other days, the fracture appeared instantly, his resentment swallowing everything she hoped to heal.
A small sigh escaped her at what felt like the millionth failure.
She pushed deeper into the flow. No matter how far she pressed, it always ended in the same place. A hospital room. Lightning crackled softly in the air, suspended on the edge of a moment. She leaned forward, trying to see past it, but the path dissolved every time. Her sight ended there. Always there.
Another slow exhale.
Rising from her cushion, she left the meditation chamber and stepped into the cool stone hallway. The distant murmurs of disciples drifted through the courtyard until she noticed a cluster of them gathered around one of the few televisions in Kamar-Taj. She prepared to reprimand them for idleness, then the broadcast caught her attention.
"Yesterday, in breaking news, legendary super-soldier Captain America—"
She froze. Steve Rogers appeared on the screen, far earlier than he should have. This was wrong. He was not meant to return publicly for months. Variations were possible, branches always shifted, but a deviation this large was not something she could miss.
Her brows tightened. She ignored the rest of the chatter and rested her hand on the Eye at her chest. Just as she often peered forward, she could just as easily peer back. She reached for the strands of causality and followed them.
She stepped into the past, tracing the chain of moments that led to this divergence. Her breathing steadied as she sank deeper into the current.
Then–
"What!"
The vision broke apart like glass. She jerked backward, stumbling as the air flickered. Centuries of composure vanished in a flash of raw shock.
"Ancient One?" Mordo's voice cut in as he rushed to her side. "Master, are you hurt?"
She did not answer. She reached out again, this time following the ripple over Sokovia. She pushed into the timestream, searching for the future instead.
Her breath hitched.
"Master, what did you see?" Mordo steadied her arm, concern sharp in his voice.
"I saw nothing…"
"What?" The confusion was immediate.
A blankness in the tapestry of time. A gap where a future should have been, unreachable even with the might of an Infinity Stone.
A shiver ran down her spine, a mix of terror and something like exhilaration.
For the first time in centuries, the future refused to answer her.
***
I'm back! Thank you all for the well wishes!
I'll be writing an interlude chapter soon. Any thoughts on MCU or Marvel characters' perspectives you'd like to see?
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