This was a quiet villa on the outskirts of New York, far from the city noise and smog. The sun shone warmly over the well-tended garden, where flowers bloomed in full color and butterflies drifted lazily through the morning air, sipping dew and pollen.
Inside, lying in bed beneath soft linen sheets, was an elderly woman. Time had left its mark on her — lines etched across her face, her once-vibrant hair now silver, her eyes dulled by age. The life in her veins had long since slowed, and the strength that once defined her had faded.
It would be hard for anyone now to imagine that this frail woman had once been a fierce heroine of World War II.
Even harder to believe that the same presidents who had led nations once bowed their heads in respect to her, understanding the sheer power she once held. But that time was gone.
Her name may have been etched in history, but she herself was close to its end.
She turned her gaze away from the golden light spilling through the window. Her eyes closed — not from tiredness, but reflection.
Old age has a way of drawing people into memories. And for someone like her, whose past was filled with wars, victories, sacrifices, and secrets, those memories were not just vivid — they were heavy.
But even through all that, what truly lingered wasn't her service or fame. No, what stayed with her was a promise — a memory of a shy, brave man who once asked her for a dance.
Kaji~!
The soft click of the door opening interrupted her reverie.
"Sharon, I feel fine today. Don't make me take that medicine," she said without turning.
"Ms. Carter," a calm male voice responded, one that clearly wasn't Sharon's, "you may want to hear about today's dose before you decline."
She opened her eyes slowly — now sharp with recognition — and saw a tall, one-eyed Black man standing at the edge of her bed.
"Nick Fury," she said. "Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. What are you doing here with a retired old woman like me?"
"Ms. Carter, I'm here because the world needs you," Fury replied, placing a small silver box on his lap. "We're standing at a turning point. S.H.I.E.L.D. is compromised, and only someone with your insight and legacy can help set things right."
She sighed, her voice weary but laced with old fire. "So, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been infiltrated by Hydra. I told Howard Stark that bringing those old Hydra scientists under Project Paperclip was a mistake. He wouldn't listen. He thought he could control them. And now… he paid the price."
"We all lost something," Fury said, his expression serious. "But right now, we need solutions, not regrets."
"You're right," Carter nodded. "Hydra runs on blind loyalty. Cut off the head, and the body loses its way. If we can find that head, S.H.I.E.L.D. can still survive."
"We need more than just survival. The world is cracking, Peggy. Wars, enhanced metas going rogue, interdimensional threats… If there's going to be any hope of keeping this planet safe, S.H.I.E.L.D. has to lead again. And that leadership starts with people like you."
Fury leaned in, his tone steady. "You helped create S.H.I.E.L.D. You bled for it. Your name helped build the foundation we all stand on. Are you willing to watch it crumble into the hands of the same people you fought against?"
"Of course not," Carter said quietly. "But look at me, Nick. I'm not the same woman who led the Howling Commandos into the Hydra stronghold. I'm old. I can't even stand without help. That fire you're looking for — it's gone."
Fury smiled, then opened the box on his lap.
"That's the thing about fire, ma'am. Sometimes all it needs is a little spark."
Inside the box was a crystal, glowing faintly with golden light.
"This is an X-Crystal," Fury explained. "It's been known to trigger meta awakenings — sure. But that's not all it does. Metas typically have stronger bodies and longer lifespans. This crystal enhances that, repairing cell degradation, boosting regenerative potential… we're talking about extending life far beyond what's natural."
He pulled out a vial next. "And this — synthesized from Apocalypse's blood. Think of it as a booster. With the right genetic and cellular conditions, you could push your biological age back by decades. Some cases even report passing the 150-year mark."
Carter stared at the crystal. She didn't look thrilled — she looked tired.
"I'm not afraid of dying, Nick. The truth is… I already died a long time ago. The real Peggy Carter — she went under with Steve in the ice. The woman you're looking at? She's been living his life. All the things I did — they were supposed to be Steve's victories. I was just keeping the seat warm."
She reached over and opened the nightstand drawer. From it, she pulled out a nearly identical golden crystal.
"Sharon gave this to me. Told me the same thing you just did."
The room fell silent.
"Is he… Steve. Is he alright?" she asked, finally looking up.
"He's good," Fury said. "He hasn't changed a bit. Still a true believer. Still fighting for what's right."
Peggy nodded, eyes distant.
"He died once to stop Hydra. And now we've turned the world into another mess. He deserves peace, not another war. We shouldn't be calling him back to clean up after us."
Her grip tightened around the crystal.
Then, with all her strength, she flung it down onto the hardwood floor.
Bang!
The crystal shattered on impact, bursting into golden vapor that curled into the air and flowed into her body.
Her body seized slightly.
She groaned, clutching the bedsheet, her veins glowing gold for a moment. Energy surged through her, awakening cells that had been dormant for decades.
Her skin tightened, liver spots vanished, and her once-withered frame began to fill out. Hair turned chestnut-brown again.
Wrinkles smoothed. Within moments, the years had been swept away, and she looked like the Peggy Carter of 1944 — maybe even younger.
She sat up slowly, looking at her hands, her arms, her body. "What… what happened?"
Fury was stunned. "That's… unexpected. Ethan told me that metas awaken based on deep emotional triggers. It's not just physical — the crystal enhances what the heart truly desires."
"Then this makes sense," Peggy said, lifting her chin. Her eyes were sharp again. "There's only one thing I've ever wanted — one thing I've waited 70 years for."
She looked directly at Fury.
"Steve Rogers still owes me a dance."
··········
While Fury was dealing with internal threats and meta unrest, others were executing their plans in the shadows.
In a hidden corridor deep underground, yellow light flickered as two figures materialized through a teleportation gate. Or rather — one and a half.
One figure, missing everything below the waist, hovered in place, his torso held up by an unseen force.
Blood dripped from the wounds, but the flesh pulsed and knit itself back together — rapid regeneration triggered by cellular vector manipulation. It was grotesque, but it kept him alive.
The second figure, fully intact, stumbled forward and coughed up blood. Internal injuries. Bits of organ matter.
He was fading fast. If his partner hadn't absorbed the brunt of the last blast, he wouldn't have made it.
Level-5 metas were terrifying — this was the proof.
A group of people emerged from the corridor's shadows.
One man, clearly the leader, didn't even glance at the wounded meta. He walked straight to the half-man still regrowing.
"Welcome, Mr. Killian," he said calmly. "We've been expecting you."
"Who are you?" Killian asked, groaning as he forced himself to sit up.
His body was still smoking slightly from the earlier explosion, but thanks to the Extremis virus coursing through his system, the wounds were already knitting back together.
As long as his brain wasn't blown to pieces, his healing factor rivaled that of Wolverine or even Deadpool.
"A friend," the man replied with a charming smile, extending his hand. He had blonde hair, sharp eyes, and an aura of confidence. "Daniel Whitehall. I'm a scientist."
Killian's eyes narrowed.
The name stirred something in his mind. With his enhanced memory—one of the many perks of Extremis—it didn't take long.
"Daniel Whitehall… I've read about you," Killian muttered. "In Peggy Carter's memoirs. You were a Hydra scientist back in the World War II era. The photo in the book... you look exactly the same."
Whitehall chuckled. "I must say, I'm flattered Agent Carter still remembered me in her twilight years. Maybe I'll read her memoirs one day."
His smile widened, but there was something cold behind it. "Yes, I'm the so-called 'evil scientist' who got knocked around by the heroic Carter. Though, let's be clear—I wasn't a rogue. My allegiance was, and always will be, to Hydra."
Killian frowned. "But... how are you still young? That was nearly a century ago. You look thirty. Are you some kind of clone?"
Whitehall raised a hand with a vague gesture. "Just a little longevity tech. In a world filled with sorcerers, aliens, and metas, someone staying young shouldn't be that shocking."
What he didn't say—what Killian didn't know—was that Whitehall's version of longevity involved draining the regenerative essence from an Inhuman woman.
She'd been discarded like trash... only to be found and revived by her furious husband, Calvin Zabo—also known as Mr. Hyde.
Word on the street was that Hyde was still hunting Whitehall to this day, driven by vengeance and madness.
Killian's eyes sharpened. "Whitehall... why save me?"
Whitehall tilted his head, almost amused. "You're valuable, Killian. I've invested a great deal in you. Letting that go to waste would be bad business."
Killian stared. "Wait… You're my mystery sponsor? The one who kept my lab afloat even after Stark humiliated me? The one who never asked questions and kept the funds coming?"
Whitehall nodded. "I saw potential in your Extremis research from the very beginning. You wouldn't be where you are without my backing."
Killian coughed, smirking. "So, you're not just a creepy immortal Hydra scientist—you're also my biggest fan."
"You could say that," Whitehall said dryly. "But yes, I'm here because your research still matters—to Hydra and to me. When you were working on Extremis, I was pursuing a similar path. Our approaches differed. Yours focused on human enhancement. Mine… on botanical evolution."
Killian raised an eyebrow. "Plants? That's a dead end. I tried using Extremis on plant cells early on—it failed."
"You lacked vision," Whitehall said calmly. "Your plan is impressive, but outdated. Mass-producing Extremis soldiers? Sure, it sounds grand. Armies of literally hot-headed soldiers surging across the globe. But it's a fantasy. Unstable, uncontrollable, and already obsolete."
Killian bristled. "Obsolete? Hydra's not afraid of sacrifice. We can fix the 50% success rate. If we had even thousands of Extremis soldiers, the world wouldn't stand a chance."
Whitehall remained unfazed. "Seventy years ago, Hydra had a similar plan. Before the serum ever touched Steve Rogers, the goal was to mass-produce super soldiers. But Erskine defected. The plan died with him—and we pivoted. Now the world has changed again. Meta-humans, alien invasions, sorcerers… it's no longer about brute strength. It's about evolution."
As he spoke, Whitehall opened the lab's reinforced doors. He led Killian toward a massive containment chamber.
Inside stood a plant, about a meter tall, its vines pulsing with magma-red energy. Flame-like patterns danced along its surface, and above it, suspended by gravitational manipulation, floated a fireball the size of a basketball.
It wasn't just glowing.
It was radiating energy—an artificial sun.
Without the dense force fields holding it in check, it would've incinerated everything within seconds.
"Red Skull, my former commander, believed deeply in myth," Whitehall said. "He thought the old gods were real, which is why he sought out the Tesseract—the so-called Cosmic Cube Odin left behind. And now? With Thor walking the Earth, we know those myths are truths."
Killian's gaze stayed on the sun-like energy source. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
"Do you know the legend of Eden?" Whitehall asked, voice low. "It spoke of two fruits: one of wisdom and one of life. Humanity stole wisdom. But without the power of life, we remain flawed—fragile."
He turned toward Killian, eyes burning with fanatic purpose.
"Hydra's new mission is not to conquer the world by force—but to complete humanity. To give us power worthy of gods. Not just metas or enhanced individuals—but a higher species. A perfected evolution."