Kamar-Taj.
Strange had finally settled after enduring the baptism of Fel energy. Under the Ancient One's calm yet strict guidance, his power was growing at an astonishing pace, his command over both Fel energy and sorcery improving in leaps and bounds.
But Kamar-Taj was not calm.
A shadow lurked within its walls.
Kaecilius, once a disciple of the Ancient One, had begun to stir. Seduced by whispers of the Dark Dimension, he was no longer the loyal student he once was. His obsession with the power he could obtain from Dormammu gnawed at him day and night, and though his plan to summon the dark lord was not yet ready, the ripples of his betrayal had already begun to spread.
…
Meanwhile, Luke's life had returned to something resembling normalcy.
When he wasn't soaking in the hot springs aboard the helicarrier, he was strolling through his grocery store to check in on business, or wandering the streets with Doggo. His life had slowed into a simple rhythm of quiet pleasures.
Doggo, in particular, had been on quite the adventure.
After his escapades in Sokovia, having been abandoned to his luck, the husky had no choice but to embark on a solo journey: padding through the forests of the Czech Republic, trotting along the busy roads of Germany, nosing through French bakeries, sprinting across the misty fields of the UK, barking at sheep in Ireland, and finally, without hesitation, leaping into the cold Atlantic waters to swim his way back to the United States. By the time he padded back into Luke's arms in happiness, the husky smelled faintly of saltwater and adventure.
Luke wasn't worried about rushing to collect plot points anymore. With forty in hand, he was just ten shy of the next system advancement. For now, patience was more valuable than greed.
Wanda and Sharon had also fallen into their own steady routines.
Sharon frequently visited S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, where her old friends and colleagues welcomed her back with smiles and quiet nostalgia. Wanda, on the other hand, went for a more personal reason, each visit was a step toward rekindling her bond with her twin brother, Pietro.
S.H.I.E.L.D., however, had no time for peace.
The roster of Avengers had begun to grow. T'Challa, the Black Panther and heir to Wakanda, stood among them. So did Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, invited under Tony's wing, though he remained more of a reserve member due to his young age. And then there was Scott Lang, Ant-Man, brought in by Steve Rogers himself.
Luke, of course, had every intention of "harvesting" the plot points from these encounters eventually, but there was no need to rush, as they weren't going anywhere.
…
A few days later, deep within S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, a meeting was called.
Nick Fury sat at the head of the long conference table, his one good eye unreadable. At his side was a senior official from the United States government, his face tight with indignation. Around the table sat nearly all of the Avengers, except for Thor who was absent, and Luke, though technically a consultant, hadn't been summoned. Fury knew better than to drag Luke into politics unless absolutely necessary.
The matter at hand was the Superhero Management Act.
The Ultron incident had been erased before it could truly spiral out of control, thanks to Luke. But whispers of it had leaked nonetheless. Combined with the collateral damage from other battles, civilian casualties had drawn the gaze of politicians who feared their grip on power slipping.
Heroes were now being admired and even worshipped by the masses, but they were also being eyed as dangerous free agents by the government, who thought allowing them too much freedom to act as they pleased was completely unacceptable.
Thus, the Act.
A law that demanded all superhero actions be placed under government supervision.
It sounded like S.H.I.E.L.D.'s current model, but the undertones were far more insidious.
In the original movie timeline, Tony Stark himself had led the charge to sign, with Black Panther, Spider-Man, Ant-Man, Rhodey, Vision, and even Natasha at his side.
But this was no longer that world. Luke's presence had shifted the board. Ultron hadn't destroyed Sokovia, Wanda hadn't scarred the Avengers' minds, and the traumas that once divided the team had never happened.
And Tony Stark was still Tony Stark, somewhat brash, unchained, and unwilling to let anyone put him on a leash.
Without his push toward compliance, the room leaned almost entirely the other way.
Now, nearly every Avenger stood in opposition.
Inside the conference room, the tension was palpable.
The government official's voice cut through the silence as he jabbed a finger toward the neatly stacked documents in front of each Avenger. His tone dripped with authority:
"Without supervision, there will be no order. This regulation is not here to restrict you, it is here to protect you."
The words rang hollow.
Steve Rogers leaned forward, his jaw clenched. His voice was sharp, edged with conviction.
"We can take care of ourselves. We don't need your 'regulatory agencies' breathing down our necks."
His anger simmered beneath the surface. Once, long ago, he had been an obedient soldier. He had followed orders without hesitation. But those days were gone. He had seen too much, learned too much, to let himself, or anyone else, be turned into puppets again.
And his investigations these past weeks had only hardened his resolve. The government was not pure. It never had been, but now, its corruption ran deeper than ever.
This law wasn't about protection. It was about control.
Yet, around him, the other Avengers remained silent. They were powerful, yes, but they had families, ties, lives entwined with the society the government threatened to weaponize against them. Defiance wasn't a simple choice.
Only Steve, who had lost nearly everything to time, sat unshaken.
The official's eyes narrowed. His voice dropped, every word laced with cold threat.
"Do not mistake this for a negotiation. I am not asking for your signatures. This is an order. Refuse, and you will stand as enemies of mankind. Refuse, and you will face a military court."
The arrogance in his tone filled the room like smoke.
He sat taller, feeding on his own bravado. With the United States and even the United Nations at his back, he believed himself untouchable. With a single declaration, he could paint saints as sinners, and heroes as criminals. That was his confidence.
Tony's hand twitched. His fist clenched tight, his arc reactor glowing faintly beneath his shirt as if ready to flare. For a split second, he imagined blasting the smug politician into ash.
But he stopped.
Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, his people. He couldn't risk them.
Across the table, T'Challa's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Of everyone present, he seemed the least perturbed. He was Wakanda's prince, soon to be its king. His nation's technology eclipsed anything the United States could muster. Thus this so-called threat barely brushed him. But Wakanda's politics were not Earth's politics, and so he remained silent, detached.
The official's lips curved upward into a satisfied smirk as he scanned the table. Their silence was his victory, and their hesitation was his leash.
This was true power.
But then his gaze fell on the three empty seats at the end of the table. His expression faltered.
There were supposed to be more. Three more.
And when it came to this Act, no one, absolutely no one would be exempt.
His eyes flicked sharply toward Fury.
"Director," he said coldly. "It seems there are still three who haven't arrived?"
The room, already taut with tension, seemed to tighten further.
…
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