The moment Liam made his choice, the Blue Wheel in his mind glowed to life. Rings of light spun inside one another like some goddamn celestial engine.
Then — click.
The Wheel stopped dead.
A sharp pulse of blue light tore through the wheel, followed by glowing text burning itself into his mind.
×××
"Mind Fortress- Ability Acquired"
Description :
Grants powerful resistance to mental intrusion, mind control, emotional manipulation, and psychic influence. Shields the mind from telepathic scans, illusions, and memory tampering with impenetrable defenses effective up to planetary-level telepaths or equivalent psychic entities.
×××
Passive ability — permanently active.
Liam froze. His eyes widened, breath catching in his throat. For a few seconds, he didn't even move. Then, slowly, a smile crept across his face.
'This is perfect.'
With that, Liam's worries about anyone uncovering the memories of his previous life eased a little.
Xavier, Emma Frost, Wanda, Killgrave — hell, even Doctor Strange and Ancient One— none of them could touch his mind now. They could try all they wanted, but they'd crash straight into a wall. His wall. A fortress built inside his mind.
Sure, the ability only blocked mental intrusion up to planetary-level beings, but that was still damn impressive.
From what he'd seen so far, this version of Earth didn't even have mutants. Still, with the multiverse being what it was, anything could happen.
He just hoped it wouldn't — he hated surprises like that.
'Alright,' he thought. 'So cosmic-level freaks might still peek through — whatever. I'll deal with that shit later. Maybe the Wheel'll throw me a cosmic level bone next time.'
Up ahead, Tony was rambling about extra sauce, Thor was still giving Loki a godly lecture about honor, and Hulk was humming like a diesel engine that somehow learned rhythm.
Liam shoved his hands into his pockets, walking behind them with that faint, smug smile of obtaining another useful ability.
A few blocks later, the group reached what was left of the Shawarma joint Tony wouldn't shut up about. The place looked like it had been through a small war — windows cracked, sign barely hanging, and the air reeking of burnt oil and alien ash.
Tony pushed open the busted door, the little bell above it jingling weakly. "Hello?" he called out, stepping inside. "Any survivors? Preferably ones who know how to use a fryer?"
Silence. Nothing.
The place was empty. Chairs knocked over, food half-eaten, register open. It looked like everyone had dropped everything and run for their damn lives.
Natasha glanced around, holstering her gun. "Guess everyone bailed."
Clint nudged a shawarma wrapper with his boot. "Tragic. The real casualties of war."
Thor frowned, confused. "Do they not return to honor the victors with a feast?"
Liam shrugged, dragging a chair upright and sitting down. "Can't really blame them. If aliens fell out of the fucking sky, I'd quit mid-shift too."
Tony sighed, lowering himself into the seat beside him. His armor groaned. "Figures. Save the world, still can't get service."
Cap shook his head, but there was the faintest smile on his face. "We'll eat later. Right now, we rest."
Hulk slammed his fist on the table — nearly breaking it. "No food!"
Liam snorted, leaning back. Around him sat the weirdest bunch of people he'd ever seen — a billionaire wrapped in metal, a century old soldier, a god quoting Shakespeare, a giant green monster angrily humming to himself, two assassins who looked dead on their feet, and he himself trying to pretend this all made sense.
'Yeah,' he thought. 'This is my world now.'
Liam sighed and dragged a hand down his face. The mental exhaustion hit him all at once — not from the fighting, but from everything. The escape from HYDRA, the chaos, the fucking absurdity of sitting in a wrecked shawarma joint in a different world.
He opened his eyes, staring at the overturned tables and the empty kitchen door. Then, without a word, he stood up and started walking toward the back.
Tony raised his eyebrow. "We checked already. No one's there to cook for us "
Liam glanced over his shoulder and smile. "Relax, Stark. I can cook."
Tony blinked. "You… what?"
"I can cook," Liam repeated, stepping behind the counter. "Never made shawarma before, but fuck it — I can give it a shot."
Thor tilted his head, genuinely intrigued. "You are both warrior and chef? Truly, Midgard's heroes grow stranger by the minute!"
Even Hulk gave a grunt of approval, pounding his chest once. "Food good."
Tony leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and smirking. "Alright, Gordon Ramsay. Impress us. But if it sucks, you're buying dinner next time."
Liam snorted, flicking on what was left of the gas line. "Deal. Just don't make it a habit."
He started rummaging through the kitchen. Half the ingredients were scattered or half-spoiled, but he worked fast, precise, and confident. His hands moved automatically — chopping vegetables, marinating the meat, heating the pan. Within minutes, the sharp hiss of sizzling spices filled the air, cutting through the stench of smoke and ash that hung over the city.
In his previous life, cooking wasn't just a skill — it was his thing. He'd owned a small restaurant, cozy and always packed. The kind of place people lined up for even on rainy nights. His food wasn't fancy, but it was tasty as hell.
And though his new body didn't need food — the regeneration kept him running at full efficiency — cooking still did something to him. It grounded him. Calmed him. Reminded him that beneath all the power, all the insanity, he was still human.
"Damn," Tony muttered, sniffing the air. "That actually smells… good."
"Good?" Clint said, leaning in. "Dude, that smells incredible."
Thor grinned wide, inhaling deeply. "By Odin's beard, this aroma could bring joy to Valhalla itself!"
Natasha rolled her eyes after seeing their exaggerated reactions. "I'll believe it when it hits my plate."
Liam chuckled, flipping the meat expertly. "You'll eat your words, Romanoff — literally."
Tony rested his elbows on the table, eyes locked on the smoke rising from the kitchen. "Alright, mystery man," he called out. "You've got the Avengers drooling. Guess that means you owe us a story."
Liam glanced up. "A story?"
Tony nodded, smirking. "Yeah. You just showed up outta nowhere, punched a few aliens into jelly, and shrugged off plasma fire like it was rain. You're not S.H.I.E.L.D., not military, and sure as hell not normal. So what's your deal?"
The room went quiet. Even Thor stopped humming. Cap tilted his head slightly, curious.
Liam didn't answer right away. The knife in his hand hovered above the cutting board. The smell of grilled meat and spice filled the air. His face stayed calm, but his eyes gave him away.
He flipped the meat one last time, letting the flames flare up before dying down.
Then he said quietly, "Let's just say… I've had one hell of a journey getting here."
The sizzling filled the silence that followed. No one spoke.
Tony leaned back, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah," he said finally, voice low. "Something tells me that's an understatement."
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