The events of the previous day played on a loop in my mind. Erskine's tragic death, Steve Rogers' transformation, and my sudden involvement had pushed me deeper into the chaotic world of Marvel. It wasn't just about survival anymore; I had been thrown into the path of heroes and villains.
Still, I couldn't help but wonder—what role would I play? Would I be an ally to the Avengers? A silent bystander? Or something else entirely?
---
The next morning, the camp buzzed with tension. News of Hydra's infiltration had spread, and the soldiers were on high alert. It was a reminder of how dangerous this timeline truly was. I kept my head low, avoiding unnecessary attention, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
That's when I saw him again—Steve Rogers.
He was standing in the middle of the training grounds, surrounded by soldiers who eyed him with a mix of awe and envy. Gone was the scrawny kid who barely met the physical requirements. Now, he was Captain America, though the world didn't know it yet.
He noticed me watching and approached, his expression cautious but curious.
"You're the guy from yesterday," he said. "The one who tackled the spy."
"Yeah," I replied, trying to sound casual. "Lucky timing, I guess."
Steve studied me, his blue eyes sharp. "Who are you? You don't look like a soldier."
I hesitated, realizing I didn't have a convincing backstory. "Just a civilian," I said finally. "I got caught up in all this by accident."
His skepticism was evident, but he didn't press further. Instead, he extended a hand. "Thanks for what you did. I owe you one."
I shook his hand, surprised by his genuine gratitude. "Name's Alex," I said, giving him my real first name. If I was going to survive in this world, I needed to build some trust.
---
That evening, I wandered the camp, trying to piece together what I knew about the timeline. With Erskine gone, Hydra would ramp up its efforts to replicate the super-soldier serum. Schmidt, or the Red Skull, would soon unleash his forces, using the Tesseract to fuel his weapons.
If I could find a way to slow them down, maybe I could make a difference. But where would I even start?
As I pondered my next move, an unexpected opportunity presented itself. Peggy Carter.
She found me near one of the supply tents, her sharp eyes narrowing as she approached. "You've been asking a lot of questions," she said, her tone bordering on accusatory.
I raised my hands defensively. "Just trying to make sense of things."
Her expression softened slightly. "You handled yourself well yesterday. But that doesn't explain why you're here."
I hesitated. Peggy Carter was one of the most intelligent and resourceful people in this timeline. If anyone could see through my lies, it was her. Still, I decided to take a calculated risk.
"I'm not a soldier," I admitted. "But I know about Hydra. More than most people."
Her brows furrowed. "How?"
"That spy wasn't alone," I said, deflecting her question. "Hydra's already embedded in the ranks. If we don't act fast, they'll gain the upper hand."
Peggy's skepticism remained, but she didn't dismiss me outright. "What exactly are you suggesting?"
"Let me help," I said earnestly. "I know I don't look like much, but I have skills—useful ones."
She regarded me silently for a moment before nodding. "Fine. But if I catch even a hint of deception, I won't hesitate to deal with you."
---
The next few days were a blur. Peggy assigned me to assist with intelligence gathering, a task that allowed me to stay close to the action. I shadowed her and Steve, watching as they strategized against Hydra.
Despite my efforts to stay inconspicuous, my abilities began to draw attention. My reflexes, strength, and uncanny knack for predicting enemy movements didn't go unnoticed. Steve, in particular, seemed curious but refrained from questioning me.
Meanwhile, I worked to hone my newfound powers. The faint energy I had summoned before was growing stronger, responding more easily to my will. It felt like a part of me, an extension of my very being.
Late one night, I found myself alone in a secluded corner of the camp, practicing. With a deep breath, I focused on my palm, channeling the energy outward. A soft, glowing orb formed, illuminating the darkness around me.
"Impressive," a voice said, startling me.
I turned to see Peggy watching from the shadows. Her expression was unreadable, but her tone was laced with curiosity. "Care to explain what that is?"
"It's… complicated," I admitted, extinguishing the orb. "Let's just say I'm not exactly normal."
"Clearly," she replied dryly. "But you've been useful so far, so I won't ask questions—for now."
Her trust, however tentative, was a small victory.
---
By the time Steve embarked on his first mission as Captain America, I had fully embedded myself in their operation. I accompanied him and Peggy to the Hydra base where Bucky Barnes was being held.
The mission was chaotic, filled with gunfire, explosions, and narrow escapes. But it was also exhilarating. For the first time, I felt like I was part of something bigger, something meaningful.
Steve's bravery was awe-inspiring. Watching him charge into danger without hesitation reminded me why he was the heart of the Avengers.
During the rescue, I found myself face-to-face with a group of Hydra soldiers. My instincts took over, and I used my energy to disarm them, stunning them into unconsciousness.
When the dust settled, Steve approached me, his expression a mix of gratitude and suspicion. "You're full of surprises," he said.
"I could say the same about you," I replied with a grin.
---
As we returned to the camp with the rescued prisoners, a sense of camaraderie began to form. Steve, Peggy, and even the Howling Commandos started to see me as an ally, though I knew trust would take time.
But the victory was short-lived. News of Schmidt's advancements reached us soon after, and the reality of the war hit hard. Hydra was far from defeated, and their plans were more sinister than ever.
I knew what was coming—the Red Skull's pursuit of global domination, the creation of the Tesseract-powered weapons, and the eventual fall of Schmidt. But the path to get there was fraught with peril.
As I lay in my bunk that night, staring at the ceiling, a single thought consumed me.
I didn't just want to survive in this world—I wanted to change it. For the better.
And for the first time, I believed I could.