It had been half a month when Rory returned to New York.
He exited a dentist's office, carrying a newly extracted tooth, and made his way to South Port, down in Manhattan's Lower East Side.
His laboratory was hidden in an abandoned rubber factory near the docks—once repossessed by the bank after bankruptcy, now leased to Rory as his personal research base.
Sealing the lab doors, Rory suited up: white coat, mask, goggles, cap—no detail left unchecked.
He stepped up to the workbench and carefully pulled out the tooth.
Inside it? Several capsules—each containing precious blood samples from Thanos and Jessica Jones.
That's right.
This was how Rory smuggled blood from the future into the past—using himself as the courier.
Alongside the frozen Captain America's blood, the trio of samples were carefully placed into cultivation mediums, initiating a new round of cloning and replication.
Without high-level computers or precision biotech equipment, his research progressed painstakingly slow.
Still—with the blood of Steve Rogers and Jessica Jones as supplementary baselines—Rory finally succeeded in formulating a relatively stable Thanos-based serum.
This serum wasn't a hybrid—it was pure-blooded Thanos.
Steve and Jessica's samples were merely guides—their purpose was to weaken the strength of the Thanos blood, to make it adaptable.
Because what Rory sought wasn't some Frankenstein concoction.
What he wanted was the true, unadulterated bloodline of a Celestial descendant.
This new serum couldn't be injected directly yet—it required fine-tuned genetic reprogramming.
But the door was open now.
And crossing the threshold to a full-body augmentation serum was just a matter of time.
Meanwhile…
Peggy Carter led Steve Rogers to the headquarters of Stark Industries.
"Hello. I have an appointment with Howard Stark."
The assistant verified their names and led them up in the elevator.
Howard was hunched over his workbench when Peggy's polite cough made him look up.
"Oh, Peggy—it's been a while…"
He walked forward, arms open—only to freeze mid-step when he saw the man standing beside her.
"You're… Steve?"
"Hey. Long time no see," Steve said with a soft smile.
Howard's jaw dropped.
"No way. You're still alive?!"
Steve chuckled bitterly.
"Honestly, I didn't think I'd ever be again."
Frozen for 70 years.
Woke up in a new world.
Fought battles across time and space.
And now—he was back, in the time he never meant to skip.
None of it made sense. But it was all real.
Howard started to ask more—but Steve cut him off.
"It's a long story. I actually came here for something else—I need your help."
Howard grinned.
"Steve, the war's over. Shouldn't you be enjoying life now?"
He glanced at Peggy meaningfully.
Peggy didn't flinch—she slid her arm around Steve's waist.
"If anyone should relax, it's you, Howard. Go home to your wife—you're about to become a father, remember?"
Those words hit Steve like a punch to the chest.
Just yesterday, he'd fought beside Tony Stark.
Now… he was about to meet his father as a newborn.
The temporal dissonance was overwhelming.
"You're right. Alright—tell me what you need."
Howard removed his gloves and goggles, then poured three glasses of whiskey.
"Let's hear it."
Steve didn't hesitate.
"Your company recently invested in someone named Rory. I can't find him—but I need to meet him. Could you contact him in Stark's name?"
Howard blinked.
"That's it? This little thing?"
"It may seem small to you—but to me, it's critical. This Rory… is dangerous."
Steve wished he was being paranoid.
But something about Rory just didn't sit right.
Howard looked to Peggy.
She nodded gravely.
"Alright, alright. Who am I to refuse Captain America?"
Howard contacted the investment division. A few minutes later, Rory's file was delivered.
Flipping through it, Howard narrated casually:
"Looks like Rory's in biochemical research. Claims to have discovered a treatment for mental illness. Got approval for clinical trials through our legal channels…"
"Here—see for yourselves."
Steve and Peggy leaned in to read.
At first glance—nothing suspicious.
Steve almost believed he was overthinking it.
But on a second pass…
"Howard, is this experiment timeline accurate?"
"Yeah—first phase projected for three months. If data checks out, we provide phase-two funding. Why?"
"Because Rory doesn't need three months. He might only need three days."
Howard frowned.
"Come on. You're joking, right?"
As a scientist himself, Howard knew how hard serious research was.
No one could produce results that fast.
But Steve couldn't explain Rory's background.
He couldn't reveal the truth about time travel.
What he could say was this:
If Rory was from the future—then creating a drug ten years ahead of this era's science would be child's play.
But Rory didn't rush a discovery.
Instead, he used the excuse of "research" to build a secret lab.
Steve's instincts screamed cover-up.
"Howard… you have to trust me. He's not what he seems."
Right then, Rory was conducting live tests.
One hand on a syringe, one hand on a lab mouse.
After injection, he sealed the mouse inside a reinforced glass enclosure.
He started the video recorder.
Squeak… squeak-squeak…
The mouse sniffed around, seemingly normal.
About 20 seconds in, its behavior changed—agitated, frenzied, slamming against the enclosure walls.
No signs of pain. Or perhaps the pain was too intense to feel.
The steel-reinforced glass rang loudly.
"This isn't rejection… but it's severely hyperactive."
Suddenly, the mouse's fur fell out in patches—within seconds, it was bald.
"Its DNA is being rewritten!"
Then it dropped, twitching… and stopped breathing.
"It looks dead… but its cells are still changing."
Muscle fibers continued mutating—growing, expanding.
"The body's enhanced—but the organs couldn't keep up. Or maybe… there wasn't enough energy?"