(AN: It's so hot! WHY? I remained unable to write at all. Here's a very AI-detailed chapter due to this unbearable condition. Please spare me the lecture.)
Alternate MCU 2012
Evening settled over the New York Sanctum with a quiet, lingering stillness, the fading light of dusk slipping through its tall windows and stretching across rows of ancient artifacts that seemed less like objects and more like silent observers, each one carrying a presence that pressed faintly against the senses of anyone who walked too close.
Elias moved through the halls beside Ancient One without haste, his gaze drifting from one relic to another as though searching for something he could not quite name, yet already understood he might not find.
He had already walked the sanctums of London and Hong Kong. In both places, the result had been the same—no reaction or resonance, only a quiet, almost imperceptible withdrawal that lingered just beneath the surface of every artifact he had approached, as though they were aware of him in a way that made them choose distance over connection.
Here, in the last sanctum, nothing changed.
Elias slowed near a circular display where relics hovered within layered wards, his presence brushing against them, and once again, the response came not as rejection, but as avoidance, subtle yet undeniable, like a collective breath being held. The realization settled more firmly now, enough that he let out a quiet exhale and allowed his shoulders to ease.
"They're not ignoring me," he said, his voice low but certain. "They're… avoiding me."
The Ancient One offered no correction, only a calm acknowledgment that confirmed what he already knew without needing to say it outright, and that alone was enough for Elias to understand that whatever he carried within him was not something these artifacts were willing to welcome.
He let his hand fall to his side, the faint tension leaving his posture as acceptance replaced expectation, and with a small, almost dismissive shake of his head, he turned slightly as though ready to leave the matter behind.
"I suppose that answers it," he murmured.
But before the thought could fully settle, something moved.
It was subtle at first, barely more than a shift of color at the edge of his vision, yet it carried enough intention to pull his attention back immediately, his gaze locking onto a glass case near the far end of the chamber where a deep crimson cloak stirred as though caught in a breeze that did not exist.
For a moment, it deliberately lifted and swayed toward him in what could only be described as a gesture. A greeting.
Recognition came instantly, accompanied by disbelief that followed just as quickly.
"…That's strange," Elias said under his breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the cloak that should not have been responding to him at all.
Because he knew what it was. It was the very artifact destined to answer to Doctor Strange.
The thought alone was enough for him to step back, his expression tightening faintly as he shook his head, already dismissing the idea before it could take hold.
"No," he said more firmly, turning slightly away. "We should leave it."
"The Cloak of Levitation does not seem to agree with that," the Ancient One replied, her tone as calm as ever, though the faintest hint of knowing lingered beneath it.
Elias glanced at her, the crease in his brow deepening just enough to betray his unease.
"It's not destined to be mine," he said. "You know that."
As if in quiet defiance, the cloak pressed lightly against the glass before settling again, its movement carrying a patience that felt almost… expectant.
"If you deny it now," the Ancient One continued, "it may never answer to anyone ever again, not even Dr. Strange himself."
"It belongs to Strange," Elias insisted, though the conviction in his voice had softened.
"Why would it no longer answer to him if I deny it now?"
"The future," she said gently, "is not as fixed as you think. You have already affected at least 3 timelines from their original flow. Are you really concerned about it now, just for an emotional Cloak?"
He studied her more carefully.
"You've been nothing but accommodating and considerate to me from the start," he said, the realization forming in him. "I studied your arts, and I learned advanced spells personally from you."
The Ancient One did not deny it; she only reminded him of their exchange.
"You let us study the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis," she replied, "and in return, we offered you our knowledge and arts."
"And why exactly," Elias said, his gaze sharpening slightly. "Why did you take me in as a disciple? although it was only for a day."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her expression.
"I do not take many disciples," she said. "Only a few have ever been taught directly by me."
Elias remained silent, but his attention did not waver.
"You are the fifth," she added.
"You carry something… dark," she continued, her voice steady, unafraid. "Something even these artifacts recognize as dangerous."
Elias did not argue.
"But you have not used it to take advantage of others," she said, and this time there was no ambiguity in her tone. "And I am certain that whatever happens in the future, you will continue to do so."
Elias found it harder to dismiss her claim.
The cloak shifted again, softer now, as though waiting for a decision that had already been made.
Elias exhaled slowly before stepping forward, his movements deliberate as he approached the case once more, his hand pausing only briefly before releasing the latch and allowing the cloak to get out of the glass.
The cloak surged forward.
It moved with sudden life, circling him once before settling across his shoulders in a motion that felt less like acceptance and more like recognition, the fabric adjusting on its own until it rested perfectly in place, as though it had always belonged there.
Elias stood quietly, neither resisting nor questioning it now.
Behind him, the Ancient One simply watched with a knowing smile.
By the time they returned to Kamar-Taj, night had fully taken hold, the courtyard bathed in soft lantern light beneath a sky scattered with stars, and beneath the wide branches of an ancient tree, they stood once more in a silence that felt neither heavy nor empty, but final.
Elias could feel it before it began.
A subtle pull at first, then stronger, threading through him like something calling him back to where he belonged.
"So it's time," the Ancient One said softly.
The moment arrived without ceremony, yet it carried weight all the same as a faint blue light began to gather around Elias, flickering at the edges before slowly wrapping around his form, its glow intensifying with each passing second.
He glanced down briefly, watching the light consume his hands before lifting his gaze back to her.
"Thank you," he said while cupping his hands. This time, though, he slowly bowed in respect. "Master."
The Ancient One inclined her head, her expression calm, yet not without warmth.
"You have a long path ahead of you," she replied. "Walk with courage and always be yourself."
The light grew brighter, rising now, pulling him away piece by piece.
"Good luck," she added.
And then, just before the glow overtook him completely
"Master Elias."
His form dissolved into light, fading from the courtyard as though he had never been there at all.
And when the last trace of blue vanished into the night, only silence remained beneath the ancient tree, undisturbed and complete.
.
.
.
The transition did not feel like movement so much as it felt like reality correcting itself, as though the world had momentarily misplaced him and was now placing him back where he belonged. One moment, Elias stood beneath the quiet night sky of Kamar-Taj, the echo of parting words still lingering in the air, and in the next, the world shifted seamlessly around him until the cold stone beneath his feet and the distant hum of the city replaced it entirely.
When his senses settled, he found himself not on the street where he had first encountered the Avengers of 2023, but atop the New York Sanctum, standing beneath a late morning sky that felt almost indifferent to everything that had just transpired. Sunlight stretched cleanly across the rooftop, illuminating a world that carried on as though timelines had not been crossed and history had not been bent, yet the air around him told a different story, still faintly warped by the recent use of the Time Stone. The residual energy lingered like an afterimage, subtle but unmistakable, and with it came the quiet realization that Bruce Banner—in the form of the Hulk—had only just left, mere seconds ahead of his return.
Elias exhaled slowly, grounding himself in this version of reality as the cloak resting over his shoulders shifted faintly, settling as though it, too, acknowledged the transition, and it was in that moment of stillness that a calm, familiar voice broke through the quiet.
"You've returned."
He turned to face the Ancient One of this timeline, immediately recognizing the difference despite the identical presence, for while she carried the same composure and quiet authority, she was not the one who had stood beside him through his training, and that distinction alone was enough to change the weight of the moment.
Her gaze lingered not on his face, but on the crimson cloak draped across his shoulders, her attention sharpened by something unspoken as though she were already piecing together what had occurred without needing to ask.
Elias inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, offering respect without the familiarity he had given the other version of her.
"Ancient One," he greeted simply, his tone even as he followed her line of sight for a brief moment before returning his attention to her.
"That cloak suits you," she observed, her voice quiet but certain.
Elias did not answer immediately, nor did he attempt to explain, choosing instead to reach into his inventory and draw out the Time Stone, its green glow steady and contained as it floated above his palm. Without ceremony or hesitation, he sends it slowly toward her.
"I believe this belongs to you."
There was no surprise in her expression as she accepted it, no suspicion or need for clarification, only a quiet understanding that suggested this moment had already been accounted for in ways that did not need to be spoken aloud.
Her fingers closed around the stone with ease, and just like that, the exchange was complete, the weight of it passing between them without resistance.
Elias did not linger after that, nor did he wait for questions that might have followed, because whatever explanations existed between timelines did not feel necessary here.
"Then I won't take more of your time," he said, his voice calm but final, and with a simple motion of his hand, a portal formed beside him, sparks of golden light tracing a circular path until the space within it opened to reveal the quiet familiarity of his room.
For a brief moment, he stood at the threshold, the contrast settling over him more heavily than expected, as the distance between ancient sanctums and something as ordinary as a bedroom felt almost unreal, and it was only then that the exhaustion truly caught up to him.
His body's clock, technically registered it was evening when he left from the other timeline, finally began to falter under the strain, the feeling of leaving one world in the evening only to arrive in another nearing midday pressing against him in a way that could no longer be ignored.
It didn't matter. Not now.
Stepping through the portal, Elias allowed it to close behind him with a soft hiss, sealing away the rooftop and the Ancient One as though that moment had already passed into memory, and as he entered his room, the stillness of it greeted him like something distant yet grounding.
Nothing had changed, his secret basement probably still existed behind his closet, and yet he felt entirely different standing within it.
He didn't dwell on it.
The weight of exhaustion was already too heavy.
Crossing the short distance to his bed with none of his usual precision, Elias let himself fall onto it without hesitation, the tension leaving his body all at once as he surrendered to something far simpler than magic or time—rest.
The cloak shifted faintly as he lay there, adjusting itself as a quilt as though even it understood what Elias currently needed.
Within moments, his breathing steadied.
And just like that, Elias was asleep.
.
.
.
Alternate MCU 2023
When Agatha Harkness died, the world did not take long to notice.
The fall of Agatha Harkness left behind traces that refused to stay buried, because even without witnesses, even without records, the power of that magnitude always echoed outward, rippling through systems designed to detect what others could not.
And S.W.O.R.D. was listening. Since Wanda visited their office, they had already started to have surveillance on her.
And now? Far from the quiet streets of Westview, screens flickered with collected data, fragmented readings, and surveillance feeds that had slowly begun to align into something far more concerning than coincidence, as analysts tracked the movements of one woman they already knew—and another they did not.
Wanda Maximoff and Kristen.
"Target has stabilized in Westview after their party in the last known location," one agent reported, eyes fixed on the monitor as footage of a modest apartment complex filled the screen. "No large-scale anomalies detected since arrival."
Another feed shifted—zooming, isolating, scanning.
"Second individual remains disguised as a normal human… past readings during the party have been totally covered. In the eyes of our screen, she is just a human being and not the robot we saw yesterday covered in liquid metal. Something which was definitely similar to the same liquid metal we watched in the Terminator franchise."
"This woman is the same one in Terminator 3. The model T-X or Terminatrix. Only her face is different, but her entire being? Totally the same."
That detail alone was mind-blogging for them. The only speculation they could think of is that Wanda's magic ability made it possible to create from nothing.
But it remains a speculation. So they continue to monitor both of them.
In Westview itself, life continued with an almost artificial normalcy, the kind that existed only on the surface where routines masked truths too dangerous to acknowledge.
Within that fragile quiet, Wanda had chosen not the land once bought by Vision, but a nearby apartment where she and Kristen could remain unnoticed—or at least, unnoticed by those who didn't know where to look.
For a week, nothing happened.
Days passed in a steady rhythm, unremarkable to anyone on the outside, yet beneath that stillness, observation never ceased, and Kristen—ever vigilant, ever precise—tracked it all with quiet certainty, noting the patterns of surveillance, the subtle shifts in attention, and the presence of others who were far less disciplined in their approach.
"They've been watching since the beginning," she said one evening, her voice calm as she stood near the window, her awareness extending beyond what her gaze alone could perceive.
"Rotational surveillance. Structured. Not local."
Wanda didn't look up; her posture relaxed as though the information held no urgency.
"I know," she replied.
Kristen tilted her head slightly, processing further.
"Secondary variables are less controlled," she added. "Local individuals or thugs, as you suggested we call them. Their frequency of observation over the last three days has been increasing."
That drew a faint pause from Wanda, subtle but deliberate.
"They're getting impatient."
A quiet breath left Wanda as she leaned back, her expression unchanged.
"Let them show their true colors."
The inevitability of it all settled into place long before it happened. When it finally did, it felt less like an interruption and more like the natural conclusion of something that had already been set in motion.
"They've decided," Kristen said on the seventh day, her tone shifting ever so slightly—not alarmed, but definitive.
Wanda rose without haste, her movements calm, controlled, as though she had been expecting this moment from the very beginning.
"Let them in."
The door did not survive the attempt.
It burst inward under the force of careless aggression, wood splintering as a group of men pushed into the apartment with confidence built on assumption—assumption that two women alone meant vulnerability, that presence equaled weakness, that control could be taken.
The illusion shattered instantly. The air changed. Pressure built.
And then, Wanda moved, not with chaos, not with hesitation, but with a precision that turned violence into something deliberate, as the first man was lifted from the ground mid-step and driven into the wall with a force that cracked both structure and bone, while another was pulled sideways before he could react, his body twisting unnaturally before collapsing to the floor in a broken heap.
Kristen followed without urgency, her movements efficient and calculated as she intercepted the remaining attackers, each strike exact, each motion designed to end resistance immediately, arms breaking under pressure, bodies dropping before they could recover, even when one of them was holding knife and plunge towards Kristen's body, there was no blood or pained reaction, Kristen's efficiency left no room for struggle.
It was not a fight at all. It was a simple harvest.
Miles away, a S.W.O.R.D. agent watched the feed in stunned silence, yet the footage did not stop, did not cut, because someone else was watching—and where there was shock, there was also opportunity.
Within a secured facility, Tyler Hayward leaned and smiled slightly; in that moment, understanding took shape.
"A chance…" he murmured, the word carrying more interest than concern.
The decision came quickly after.
"Call them in reasonably," he ordered, his voice even but firm, the kind that allowed no room for hesitation.
"Both of them."
An agent glanced toward him. "On what grounds, sir?"
"Just details of what transpired," Hayward replied without looking away from the screen.
"They just neutralized a group of armed civilians. We need to write the report, and they are the only ones who can give us answers. They wouldn't want the higher-ups giving them legal trouble, would they?"
A brief pause followed.
"Give them a separate interrogation room."
The meaning was clear. Kristen was not a real person. She was an asset, just like vision.
"And Maximoff?" the agent asked carefully.
Hayward's expression remained unchanged.
"Contain her," he said. "Or put her down if necessary."
Elsewhere, far removed from S.W.O.R.D.'s controlled environment, another system intercepted the same command, filtering it through layers of unauthorized access and silent observation until it reached someone who had never truly stopped watching.
Inside a dimly lit workspace filled with shifting holographic displays, Tony Stark stood in silence as the order finalized, his expression hardening not with surprise, but with confirmation.
"They really went for it…" he muttered.
The moment the directive to detain Kristen and move against Wanda registered fully, the decision was already made, and without another word, nanotechnology surged across his body in a fluid, seamless motion, forming the structure of his armor as it locked into place with precision, systems activating in rapid succession.
"No," Tony said quietly, stepping forward as the suit sealed completely around him. "Not happening."
He'd already confirmed it from Wanda a few days ago. Elias was coming back to take her on a vacation to his timeline. And Kristen? He was also told that she was a robot sent by Elias to protect her.
Tony doesn't dare to even think about what would happen if Elias, who casually sent a robot through time just to protect his girlfriend, finds out that his girlfriend and bodyguard are being targeted by an organization that was supposed to be guarding the world against extraterrestrial threats.
Without another hesitation, thrusters ignited.
And in the next instant, Iron Man launched into the sky, cutting through the air with blinding speed, leaving behind nothing but a fading trail of light as he moved toward a confrontation that could potentially escalate into chaos.
End of Chapter