Location: Safehouse in Wakandan Outskirts
Time: 15 Days Before the Arrival
Mark never liked teleporting into someone else's kitchen.
But he did it anyway — this time with a subtle shimmer of portal energy — because time was not on their side.
He arrived in a quiet cabin near Wakanda's borderlands.
And waiting for him, sitting at a table with coffee, arms folded and expression unreadable, was Steve Rogers.
"You're not exactly SHIELD," Steve said without looking up.
"I'm not even technically a sorcerer right now," Mark grinned, flopping into a chair across from him. "More of a friendly neighborhood multiversal transplant who can sling a portal when needed."
Steve narrowed his eyes. "What's this about?"
"Let's call it… the end of the world. Unless we stop it first."
The Weirdness Filter
Mark wasn't a fan of big dramatic monologues. He preferred to explain things with honesty, humor, and just a pinch of mysticism.
He told Steve everything.
Well — almost everything.
Multiverse. Thanos. Infinity Stones. The Time Stone. The fact that in another timeline, Pietro was dead. That Mark himself wasn't originally from this world, but one that watched theirs unfold.
Steve listened in silence, brow furrowing deeper every five minutes.
"You're saying we've got a galactic tyrant heading here to wipe out half of all life because he thinks it's… merciful?"
Mark nodded. "Yeah. Big purple Malthusian jerk with a chin like a raisin."
Steve sipped his coffee. "And you're saying… you're from another universe?"
Mark smiled. "Reincarnated, technically. But I still go by Mark. Was a fan of you guys growing up. Turns out living in your heroes' world is a lot less fun than watching it."
Steve's silence lingered a bit longer this time.
"…How much time do we have?"
Mark's smile faded. "Fifteen days. Give or take."
The Team Assembles (Again)
By nightfall, more of them had arrived.
Natasha Romanoff, silent and sharp-eyed, listened from the corner.
Sam Wilson paced the porch, muttering occasionally about "alien invaders" and "wizards always showing up last minute."
And from the shadows, Bucky Barnes emerged slowly, his posture tense.
"I remember you," Bucky said, pointing at Mark. "You were in Wakanda a year ago. With Wong."
"Guilty," Mark said with a wink. "You were still grumpy back then."
Bucky blinked. "…Still am."
The Conversation That Needed to Happen
They gathered around the firepit outside the safehouse. The African stars shimmered overhead.
"I'm not here to tell you what to do," Mark said, poking the fire lazily. "I'm just the guy who sees things a little early. And… well, different."
Natasha stared at him. "And what do you see, Mark?"
He looked around the circle. The ex-soldier, the spy, the wounded weapon, and the winged hope.
"I see people who keep standing up. Even when the whole damn universe tries to knock them down. I figured if we're going to face oblivion, I'd rather do it with the people who never stayed down."
Steve's jaw clenched. "And what's the plan?"
Mark looked over his shoulder as a portal flared open behind him.
"Wakanda's opening its doors again. And the Sanctum's waiting. Time to link arms before the sky falls."