Golden light bled through the bulletproof windows of the Oval Office, casting the Resolute Desk in soft amber. The quiet hum of an antique clock was the only sound until the scratch of a pen broke the silence.
President Stephen Lance Carter sat with shoulders broad, jaw tight, and blue eyes sharpened by a decade of survival in a world that defied logic.
He paused, pen hovering above the parchment. A sigh escaped him.
Ten years. Ten years since I died in my sleep as a 19-year-old otaku, alone in a world that never noticed my absence... and woke up in the body of a war legend. The son of Peggy Carter... and Steve Rogers.
The irony was bitter. Lance had spent his first weeks in this universe certain he'd landed in Hell.
Marvel
The Marvel Cinematic Universe and more
A place where gods walked, planets exploded, and death was never permanent. No cheat powers. No system. No plot armor. Just the cold, terrifying knowledge that anyone—everyone—was a pawn in a multiversal chess game.
That fear had driven him to climb. To adapt. To build. Until he had everything he needed to protect himself. And them.
The door creaked open.
"Mr. President," came a voice like silk wrapped around steel.
Vanessa Carlysle stepped in, her curves wrapped in a midnight blue pantsuit that clung to her like a second skin. Her dark hair was tied in a no-nonsense braid, but her eyes—pale violet, not natural—betrayed her mutant identity. Shapeshifter. Assassin. Lover.
He looked up, instantly sensing the shift in her energy.
"What happened?" he asked.
She didn't waste words. "Toni Stark. She's gone. Kidnapped. Ten Rings. Afghanistan."
The pen in his hand snapped like a twig.
His voice was low. Dangerous. "How?"
"She flew out on a private prototype test. No escorts. Wanted it hush-hush. You know how she is."
He stood slowly, walking to the window, jaw clenched so tightly the muscles rippled beneath his skin.
Toni... you brilliant, reckless idiot.
He'd known her since childhood. The daughter of Howard Stark. His best friend. First kiss. First heartbreak. A lesbian who claimed she couldn't love him, yet kept finding her way back into his arms, his bed, his heart.
"Get the Pentagon on standby. I want satellite feeds, drone surveillance, and a fucking carrier group rerouted to the Gulf."
Vanessa moved closer. "Lance... you can't go full warhawk. Not yet."
His eyes blazed. "I will burn half the planet to get her back."
She touched his chest gently. "Then do it with a smile. Remember the cameras."
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them, the rage had cooled into calculated steel.
"Schedule a press conference. Twenty minutes. White House lawn. Get Psyclock, Deathstrike, and Domino to be on perimeter."
White House Lawn – 20 Minutes Later
The sea of reporters looked like ants from his vantage. Red, white, and blue draped every surface. Secret Service agents lined the edges, tension crackling in the air.
Lance approached the podium with measured steps, flanked by his personal detail—mutants and enhanced operatives that didn't appear on any public record.
He stared into the crowd and spoke with a voice that was calm, solemn, and unflinchingly honest.
"The United States has made many mistakes. We've destabilized regions in the name of freedom, when it was greed. We created vacuums where monsters thrived. But no more. Under my leadership, America will be what it was always meant to be: a shield for the innocent. A sword against tyranny. And that starts now."
The crowd stirred. Cameras clicked. Journalists scribbled.
And then—the sky ripped.
Magnetic fields surged. Camera drones exploded in midair. People screamed. A rush of wind slammed into the crowd as a figure descended like a dark messiah.
Magneto. Cloaked in crimson and purple, silver hair whipping in the wind, eyes like molten steel.
Behind him hovered Mystique, Sabretooth, Blob, Pyro, Avalanche, Toad, and Destiny.
The Brotherhood.
"Stephen Lance Carter," Magneto boomed, voice amplified unnaturally, "You are the son of two symbols. A relic of a crumbling ideal. Today, you evolve... or die."
A hush fell.
Then came the true horror.
A metal platform floated forward, caged and humming.
Inside: Rogue. Her face pale, her white-streaked hair matted, her wrists bound in inhibitor cuffs.
And beside her, beaten but alive—Peggy Carter.
Time slowed. Lance's vision tunneled.
Not Anna. Not my daughter. or my mother!
you've gone to too far Eric!
Magnero eyes turned cold far! i haven't gone far enough
The machine behind them whirred to life, panels opening like a blooming mechanical flower.
Mystique stepped forward. "You will enter willingly, or we kill them both."
Lance stared at Anna—Rogue.
Ten years of memories hit him all at once. The day he'd rescued her from a secret facility. The first time she called him "dad." Pizza nights. Watching anime together. Her giggle when she kicked his ass in Tekken.
Her eyes met his.
Daddy...
He nodded. Slowly.
He stepped into the machine, arms raised.
Mystique locked him in.
As she did, Rogue leaned forward, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I never wanted this," she whispered. "I didn't want you to get hurt. I told them I'd rather die."
"You're going to be okay," he whispered, straining against the restraints. "I promise."
She shook her head. "I'm not. Not after this."
And then she leaned closer, so close he felt the heat of her breath against his ear.
"I love you... not just as a father. I love you, Stephen."
His breath caught.
She pressed her lips to his cheek, and her voice cracked.
"If I die... at least you know."
The machine surged.
Pain like the birth of stars tore through him as his cells screamed.
And deep within his mind, a voice echoed:
[TEMPLATE SYSTEM ACTIVATED....
....
[SELECTING INITIAL TEMPLATE: KRYPTONIAN - MAN OF STEEL]
[GENETIC ANCHOR DETECTED: X-GENE - ENERGY ABSORPTION TYPE... ALPHA LEVEL POTENTIAL...]
[BEGINNING ASCENSION. GODHOOD PROTOCOL INITIATED.]