S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier — High-Security Briefing Room,
The room was quiet except for the tapping of Nick Fury's finger against the table. Screens on the walls displayed scrolling data, Tesseract energy readings, and grainy images of Loki's arrival on Earth.
Across from him sat another man — upright, disciplined, and wearing a clean blue uniform.
America's icon. The first Avenger. Steve Rogers.
Fresh out of the ice, still adjusting to the modern world, still carrying the familiar calm seriousness that defined him.
Fury studied him for a moment. "You settling in, Captain?"
Steve nodded, thoughtful. "Trying to. There's… a lot that's different. Technology, culture. Even the food tastes different." He gave a small, polite smile before the seriousness returned. "But I'm ready to be of service."
Fury appreciated that about Rogers. No drama. No hesitation. Just commitment.
"Well, you're about to get your chance," Fury said as he slid a file across the table. "We've got a situation. The Tesseract was stolen — and the person who took it isn't from Earth."
Steve opened the file.
"An alien," Steve murmured.
Fury nodded. "Yeah. One with a god complex and enough power to back it up."
Steve's jaw tightened ever so slightly. "What do you need me to do?"
"Find him. Stop him. Bring the Tesseract back before he turns this into something we can't walk away from."
Steve closed the file with a quiet thud. "Am I doing this alone? Or do I have backup?"
"There's someone else coming in," Fury said.
Steve raised a brow. "Someone reliable?"
Fury let out a slow exhale. "Let's call him… effective. Very effective." His gaze flicked to a nearby screen showing Loki's energy signature. "Whether he cooperates depends on his mood."
Steve frowned. "His mood?"
"That's right." Fury folded his hands. "He's not an agent. He's not on payroll. He doesn't follow orders. He shows up, does things however he wants, and somehow gets results without managing to die in the process."
Steve waited, quiet but clearly expecting a name.
Fury continued, "If he plays along, Loki becomes a lot less of a problem. If he doesn't…" He shrugged. "Then we do it the usual way — the hard way."
Steve's expression tightened. "He doesn't sound reliable at all. From the way you're talking, he sounds like a wild card."
Fury gave a short nod. "That's exactly what he is."
Steve folded his arms across his chest. "Then why involve someone who doesn't take orders? This is a coordinated mission. We can't have someone running around improvising."
"Because following orders isn't the goal here," Fury replied, tone dry and blunt. "Stopping Loki is. And this guy gets results in ways that don't make sense, break the rules, and probably violate at least six international laws — but he pulls it off."
Steve still didn't look convinced.
Fury continued, "Look, Rogers… you're a soldier. You like structure. Routines. Clear commands. That's your strength." He leaned forward slightly. "Luke is not any of that. He's unpredictable. He's a variable we can't control."
"Then why trust him?" Steve asked.
Fury let out a breath, almost a sigh. "Because in this line of work, sometimes the people you can't control… are the ones who save your ass."
Before Steve could respond, the meeting room door slid open.
Luke walked in first, bright smile in place, hands in his pockets like he was entering a café instead of a high-security briefing. Natasha followed right behind him, arms crossed, posture calm but alert — her usual contrast to Luke's carefree attitude.
"Hello everyone," Luke said cheerfully.
He took two steps inside, then froze when he saw who was sitting across from Fury.
"Oh. It's Captain America."
There was genuine surprise in his voice — and more importantly, genuine respect. Luke rarely showed that to anyone.
In this entire universe, there were only two people Luke admired.
Tony Stark — the selfish man who learned selflessness and saved the universe.
Steve Rogers — the man who never wavered, who stayed true to his ideals no matter the century.
If Tony was the hero who grew into sacrifice,
Then Steve was the hero who lived sacrifice.
Luke crossed the room immediately and extended his hand. His grip was firm, posture straight, expression free of sarcasm or jokes.
"I'm a big fan of yours," Luke said with complete sincerity.
Steve blinked in mild surprise at the sudden enthusiasm but shook his hand politely. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
He glanced subtly at Fury— was this the ally you mentioned? He seemed… normal enough.
Natasha gave Luke a side-eye. She'd seen him confident, smug, reckless, and infuriating — but respectful fanboy mode? That was new.
Even Fury paused.
His single raised eyebrow climbed higher than the last five reports he had read. Of all the reactions he expected from Luke, admiration was not on the list.
Under his breath, he muttered, "Well… that's new."
Luke didn't bother responding. His attention remained locked on Steve.
"You know," Luke said, "there aren't many people in this world who never compromised who they are. You did. That alone deserves respect."
Steve looked at him for a moment, reading him the way soldiers do — quietly, carefully. "Thank you," he said again, this time with a bit more sincerity.
"And now that the introductions are over," Fury cut in sharply, his voice slicing through the room like a command returning everyone to reality, "can we talk about the actual reason we're here?"
Luke shrugged. "Sure, sure." He released Steve's hand and flopped casually into a chair like he owned the place.