Twilight_Scribe
patreon
Chapter 315: Loki, Don’t You Dare Seek Death!
🕑 Added 2025-09-10 16:59:36 +0000 UTC
March 15, 1983: Alex’s “Super-Soldier Program” succeeded. Captain Marvel was born.
That day marked more than the creation of a new powerhouse—it was a turning point for all mutants.
Carol Danvers herself was not a mutant, but her second life, her newfound strength, and even her destiny were gifts tied to Alex. Her very rebirth linked her inseparably to the mutant cause.
Just like the tale from another parallel world, Alex now had a blazing star of power beside him—yet here, that star also burned with loyalty, admiration, and even a little hero-worship.
From that moment onward, the mutant community entered a period that could only be described as glorious.
Yes—glorious.
April 1, 1983: the Kree warlord Ronan swept down upon Earth with a vast fleet, their warships blotting out the skies and spreading a terror far beyond what UB6 had once inspired.
But terror lasted only a day.
For on that day, the newly reborn Captain Marvel soared into battle. Alone, she cleaved through the armada, her radiance scattering Kree vessels like kindling in a storm. In the end, only Ronan himself survived, fleeing in disgrace.
The Kree Empire, shocked to its core, reeled from the loss of an entire fleet. They saw the terrifying truth—Earth was shielded by Alex and this new champion who followed him. The humiliation silenced their ambitions. For decades afterward, no Kree dared set foot on Earth’s soil.
December 2, 1983: beneath the hot sun of Cairo, the ancient mutant Apocalypse rose from his slumber, proclaiming the coming of his so-called biblical judgment. Before his apocalyptic vision could touch the world, Alex struck him down in the desert sands, ending the threat in a single decisive battle.
Twice in a single year, mutants had saved not only themselves but the entire planet. Their reputation soared to unprecedented heights. “Glory” no longer felt like hyperbole—it was fact.
And so the idea of building a nation, once a dream that flickered and failed across generations, finally gained real weight. The timing was perfect. Decades of preparation had borne fruit, and the mutants stood united as never before.
June 1984: the island nation of Krakoa was founded.
That day closed the book on the mutants’ tragic past. No longer would they scrape and fight for scraps in the shadows of human society. No longer would Charles and Erik divide their kind in endless cycles of conflict, realizing too late that their lives had been spent in futility. Alex had cut those knots before they could strangle the future.
From then on, mutants walked into a new age.
And Krakoa, under Alex’s guidance, flourished.
In just two decades, it rose from a newborn state to the most advanced and developed nation on Earth—technologically, socially, militarily. Rivals were left stunned, governments speechless. None could match it.
Time leapt forward to 2012.
---
A church in New York.
The pews were packed, every seat filled by mourners dressed in solemn black. The air was thick, heavy with grief, and the sound of the priest’s voice carried softly beneath the vaulted ceiling. Stained glass windows painted fractured light across the crowd, but today, even the colors seemed muted.
It was a funeral.
The funeral of Howard Stark.
Unlike in the world Alex had glimpsed, Howard had not met an untimely end at the hands of Hydra’s Winter Soldier. That tragedy had been erased when Hydra itself was annihilated by Alex decades earlier.
Hydra had once dared to prey on mutants, abducting them in secret for experiments. Such insolence was nothing short of suicide. Alex’s retribution had been swift and merciless: Charles traced their networks, and within a single day, the entire Hydra organization had been exterminated. By chance, this also spared Howard Stark’s life.
Now, decades later, his time had finally come—naturally, not by murder.
“Death is not a sadness,” the priest intoned gently from the pulpit. “Our bodies return to dust, but our souls ascend to the Father. This is not an end, but a passage into eternity. We should rejoice for our brother’s journey.”
Alex sat quietly in a shadowed corner, his presence deliberately unobtrusive. His expression was unreadable, neither grief-stricken nor joyous. To him, Howard Stark was more than an acquaintance. They had dealt with each other back when Alex’s own power and influence were still growing. Howard had lent his support to the mutant cause, offering resources and recognition when it was most needed.
That counted for something.
Though, as Alex’s stature grew and the gulf between them widened, their paths naturally diverged. Still—friend was friend. And so when the summons came, Alex did not hesitate to pay his respects.
The eulogy continued. The congregation listened in heavy silence.
Then—
Buzz. Buzz.
A faint vibration broke through the solemn air. Alex glanced down at his phone, the screen lighting up with Hank’s message:
> The Tesseract is acting up. If convenient, please return ASAP.
Alex’s brows furrowed. The Tesseract… acting up?
It had been nearly thirty years since its last attempted theft. In all that time, Krakoa’s technology had advanced beyond imagination. The Tesseract was housed in one of the most secure facilities in existence, protected by defenses that not even a god should breach unseen.
The idea of a repeat theft was laughable. Impossible.
And yet…
Alex’s eyes narrowed. He thought back over the timeline. Odin’s exile of Thor to New Mexico had happened only two years ago. The brothers’ bitter clash had spilled onto Earth, nearly destroying a town. Thor returned to Asgard—but Loki… Loki’s “death” had been nothing more than a fall into Thanos’s grasp.
And from there, the Battle of New York had been set in motion.
The timing aligned too perfectly.
“Loki… you’ve finally come,” Alex murmured under his breath.
A ripple of excitement passed through him. To most, Loki’s arrival meant trouble. To Alex, it meant opportunity. The trickster prince carried a scepter—and within that scepter lay the Mind Stone. One more piece of the grand puzzle Alex was assembling.
A gift delivered straight to his door.
Of course, Loki himself was another matter. Against the likes of S.H.I.E.L.D., he had appeared formidable. But compared to Alex and the X-Men, he was a child playing at war. The idea that Loki could stroll in and steal the Tesseract from Krakoa’s vaults was absurd.
Alex leaned back slightly, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. Steady as a mountain, unbothered, he typed a short reply to Hank.
> Understood.
No need to rush. The Tesseract wasn’t going anywhere. And to stand up in the middle of Howard Stark’s funeral? That would have been discourteous.
Alex slid the phone back into his pocket, his face once more neutral as he turned his attention to the priest’s words.
For now, he would wait. Loki could stew a little longer.
