Chapter Text
The origins for this are interesting: I randomly remembered seeing a gifset on Tumblr around the time Infinity War comes out, of the scene where Captain America is confronting General Ross, and someone he tagged it saying his beard reminded them of Anthony Ainley's Master. So that inspired me to make this story. Hope you enjoy!
Earth-71911
Arctic Circle, mid-2011
A thick blanket of snowy wind left a haze in all directions, making it easy to lose one's bearings, which was the case for one Isolt Payne. Dressed in a thick parka and carrying a beacon, he waited in the harsh winds for what felt like days, until he eventually saw headlights. Payne waved them over, two other men stepping out of a truck.
"Are you the guys from Washington?" he asked.
"You get any other visitors up here?" one of them retorted.
"How long you been on-site?" The other one was much more professional.
"Since this morning," replied Payne, leading the duo onward. "A Russian oil team called it in about eighteen hours ago."
"How come nobody spotted it before?" the professional one asked.
"Not surprising. This landscape's changing all the time."
"Got any idea what this thing is exactly?" So the wisecracker had a brain after all.
"It's probably a weather balloon."
"I don't think so," chuckled Payne. "You know, we don't have the equipment for a job like this."
"How long before we can start craning it out?"
"I don't think you quite understand." The duo soon understood what Payne meant. "You guys are gonna need one hell of a crane!"
There was a plane sticking out of the ice, the marker lights lining up its general silhouette suggesting it was quite a large one.
It took some time to set up a mining laser and get into the craft, time that took the crew's focus off of Payne. The cold was doing a good job of keeping his body fresh, the parks covering up the worst of it, but it wouldn't stay that way forever. But if he knew what this plane was, there was a fresh cadaver just waiting for him inside.
A few hours later, a helicopter arrived, bearing an insignia resembling an eagle. This confirmed Payne's suspicions, and he trekked out of view of the rest of the team, collapsing to the ground. From the body, a translucent serpent emerged, lying in wait to sneak aboard and claim its prize.
Some time later
Steve Rogers opened his eyes, glancing at his surroundings. Cars were passing outside, and the radio was playing a baseball game. Stretching, he slowly leaned up, glancing at his surroundings.
As the game appeared to reach a climax, a woman stepped through the door, dressed in a beige shirt with a drab brown skirt and tie. She smiled at Steve. "Good morning, or should I say afternoon," she greeted, glancing at her watch.
Steve glanced at the radio once more. "Where am I?" he asked.
"You're in a recovery room in New York City," the nurse answered. "You took quite a fall from the HYDRA aircraft, we wanted to make sure you didn't suffer any frostbite."
Steve chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Your concern is appreciated, but unwarranted. This body, it…" He clenched and unclenched his fists, watching veins pop out on his arm in bemusement. "…it's extraordinary."
"Captain Rogers?" asked the nurse, her expression one of puzzlement.
"Oh, I don't go by that name anymore," Steve protested, getting to his feet. The nurse was apprehensive, keeping her distance as the much taller man stared her down. "In fact, I prefer to be called the Master." He continued to stare, the nurse's body slowly relaxing, a silent alarm trigger sliding from her hands and clattering harmlessly to the floor. "And you will obey me."
The nurse's shoulders dropped, staring blankly back at him. "I will obey."
Steve-or rather, the Master, gave a satisfied hum, placing his hands on his hips as he glanced around the room. A lesser mind would likely be fooled by the subterfuge, but not him.
"So, where am I really?"
"This is SHIELD headquarters in New York," the nurse answered blankly. "You were in ice for nearly seventy years, so higher ups wished to break the news to you gently."
The Master frowned. SHIELD was a lot like UNIT, meaning they'd be a pain to deal with. "Tell me, is Alexander Pierce with the World Security Council?"
"He is, sir."
He laughed, patting the nurse on her head. "Do you have a name?"
"Angela Georgina."
"Alright, Angela. I want you to tell nobody about this conversation. Let's keep it a surprise." He gave a condescending smile, pleased that SHIELD was foolish enough to give him an opening.
"Steve" was eventually released from the room he was being kept in, feigning stupefied shock at the fact it was simply a set with a backdrop. He was then brought up to a higher level of the building, full of computers and visuals that would blow the mind of an ordinary human who had just been awoken from a 70-year nap. But to the Master, it looked as advanced as a horse and cart.
Multiple different people watched him enter the room, a particular standout being a partially balding man in a suit. "Captain Rogers, I'm Agent Coulson," he introduced, looking as though he were a kid about to meet Santa Claus. "May I be first to say it is an absolute honor to meet you."
"You may," the Master smiled, giving Coulson a nod as an incredulous expression overcame his face. "It's… hard to believe I've been on ice for so long. Been away from the red, white, and blue."
"Director Fury is on his way up, but once he's here we can discuss what to do with you."
The Master blinked, trying to appear puzzled. "What do you mean, 'what to do with me'? Did you thaw me out just to put me back on ice?"
Coulson appeared genuinely sheepish about the remark. "I-Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he said, rubbing his hands together awkwardly. "It's just… you've been frozen for over seventy years, we weren't sure if you were still fit for active service or if you wanted to…"
The Master gave what he hoped was a confident grin, approaching a nearby locker. With barely any effort, he picked it up and held it above his head. "I could do this all day," he boasted.
"That won't be necessary, soldier." A figure entered the room, a balding African-American man with a well-groomed beard, dressed in a long, dark coat and wearing an eyepatch. "Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD. Please, put down the locker."
He did so, stepping over to Fury. "Okay, so… you're in charge of all this?" asked the Master, putting on what he thought was an incredulous grin. "Wow. I never expected that-"
"At ease," said Fury, slowly but firmly. "I have no doubt you're confident in your own abilities, Captain, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. You'll get a physical like all of our field agents. If you pass, you join. If not, you don't. Am I understood?"
"Of course, Director Fury," the Master agreed, enthusiastically placing a hand over his heart. "I swear, I will do whatever is expected of me, for the land of the free and the home of the brave."
Fury stared back stoically. If he were a smart man, he might assume that the Master wasn't genuine in his platitudes, but he was just as easily fooled as the rest of the humans, and so likely just thought "Steve" was annoying.
"I'd say that concludes the meeting," concluded Fury. "Coulson, escort Captain Rogers to the mess hall, it's been a hell of a long time since his last meal."
Coulson seemed quite enthusiastic about the suggestion, placing a hand on the Master's arm to guide him away, as the Master restrained the urge to toss this sycophant into the nearest wall.
Later still
Almost two weeks had passed, with "Steve Rogers" being looked over and kept under SHIELD's watchful eye. They had found nothing physically wrong with him, and so he was allowed to join the organization, paired up with Brock Rumlow of the STRIKE division for physical training before he underwent any field work.
It had been a long, productive day of training, and the two had taken a break before another sparring match. Rumlow was a good sport, smiling as he clapped the Master in the shoulder. "Gotta say, didn't think a squeaky clean guy like you could move like that," he commented.
"I've been in a lot of fights," was all the Master had to say, rubbing down his neck with a towel. "Y'know, I've got a few questions, Rumlow."
"What, like about the job?"
"No, just… I've been on ice for too long, I've missed so much that's happened." He turned to Rumlow, giving a sheepish grin. "Mind helping me out?"
He shrugged, nodding as he gave a polite expression. "Sure, why not? I guess I can play history teacher."
"Thanks. Now… in 2008, did billionaire Tony Stark get kidnapped by a terrorist group called the Ten Rings?" He had to suppress his amusement at watching Rumlow's expression fall. "And in 2010, did an Asgardian Prince fall from the sky in the middle of nowhere, around the same time Bruce Banner fought Emil Blonsky in Harlem?" His conversation partner continued to stare at him. "And is Director Fury in the process of putting together a team of superpowered beings, myself included?"
After a few seconds, Rumlow finally had a response: bolting from the bench he was sitting on and making a beeline for the door. However, the Master was faster, tackling him to the ground and pinning an arm behind his back.
"C'mon, Brock," he chided tauntingly. "It's very impolite to run away from a simple question."
"Who the hell are you?!" demanded Rumlow, trying his best to squirm free. "How do you know this stuff?!"
"Just calm down, I'll explain it all if you don't run away," said the Master, waiting until Rumlow did as instructed before letting go. "Now, I'll admit, I'm not Steve Rogers, I'm simply using his body." He held up a hand in a placating motion. "Now, don't take it the wrong way, I'm here to help."
"Help?" repeated Rumlow. "Help with what?"
"Help your group." The Master gave him a knowing look, hoping he didn't have to explain himself further, before continuing on. "I need to talk to your superiors, and hopefully we can work out a deal that's beneficial to all parties."
Rumlow was quiet for a little while longer, no doubt pondering if he should report this to his superiors (which ones, the Master was unsure of), before slowly nodding along. "Okay," he said. "I'll… see what I can do."
The Master got to his feet, helping Rumlow do the same. "I look forward to it," said the Master, about to leave before he turned back to Rumlow with a smile. "One more thing, don't try and betray me, Rumlow, I'd hate to have to put you down."
And with that final statement, he walked out of the room.
Elsewhere in the building, Nick Fury glanced at a series of pictures on one of the monitors, showcasing some of his top candidates for the Avengers Initiative: Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, and that final wildcard: Steve Rogers.
"Is something up, sir?" asked a voice, Fury looking back to see Coulson standing off to the side.
"Just thinking about our new centenarian friend," he replied. "There's something about him."
"He does seem a lot more… patriotic than I was expecting. Do you think it's disingenuous?"
"I think it's some ass shit, Coulson." He stood up, pacing around the room to his subordinate. "When we knew he was alive, I went through all the old interviews and tapes, made sure I knew exactly what he was like as a person before considering him for the Avengers. And…" He threw his hands up. "Nothing like what anyone said."
"I don't think that's entirely fair-"
"Gimme the truth, was he what you were expecting?" Coulson looked ready to argue, opening his mouth before shutting it again. "What I thought." He then glanced at a file pulled up, the file of the baseball game that had been playing when Steve woke up. "That game was from May 1941, he was probably there himself, but he didn't even say a word about it."
"So, what do we do with him, then?"
"At the moment, I just wanna observe," said Fury, turning back to the monitor. "Maybe this is just a spell. But if it's not, I want to know exactly what the good captain's deal is."
"The rest of the Avengers could probably take him," said Coulson, stepping forward. "We still have his shield in storage, without that he's only human."
"I'm considering the possibility," was all Fury had to say. "Keep an eye on him, Coulson, not like that'll be hard for you."
"You-You didn't have to put it like that…" his subordinate muttered, walking sulkily out of the room.
Fury went back to looking at the monitor. Could those four be enough to contain Captain America? Possibly. But there was no telling what exactly his agenda was. Maybe he could get in touch with Talos and see if this was a rogue Skrull that had slipped in during transit. Perhaps Red Skull had done something to him during their final confrontation-something reversible, hopefully.
If there was the slightest chance Rogers couldn't be trusted, Fury wanted to be prepared for it.
Somewhere else
"What?"
"He said he was, well… he was using the Captain's body."
"And what does that mean, exactly? Is he like one of those Skrulls from back in the nineties?"
"I don't know, he wasn't giving me his life story. Anyway, he knows things that Steve wouldn't. SHIELD's been monitoring him since he defrosted, he hasn't been catching up on anything he's missed."
"That is curious. Hmm…"
"So what do we do with him, sir? He even knows about us. That could be dangerous."
"For the moment, keep monitoring him. I'll arrange a face-to-face meeting when I have the time. If he seems like a danger, then we terminate him."
"That can be done.”
”I’ll hold you to that. Dismissed.”
Earth-2001BN
Dream Island Dump, 22XX
As machines sorted through different piles of junk, sorting it into as neat arrangements as they could, they were unaware of a mysterious blue box that had appeared by the entrance. The Duelist Doctor stepped through the junk, eventually finding that she was looking for. "PETs," she thought aloud, eyeing a pile of said handheld objects. "One of these should be suitable."
Personal Terminals, PETs, had once been used by the denizens of this world to access the internet with NetNavis. But as technology advanced and EM Waves became more widespread, the devices were deemed surplus and thrown out
She crouched down to sort through the pile, but most of the handhelds were pretty beaten up, with cracked screens, missing buttons, and numerous signs of ill upkeep. The Doctor sighed. "Maybe coming here wasn't a great idea."
"He-ello?" She almost didn't hear it, mistaking it for one of the SorterBots. "Is som-someone there?"
Only when it continued did the Doctor notice, picking up one of the PETs. This one seemed to be in decent condition, with a bit of scuffing being the only sign of exterior damage. A distorted image appeared on the screen, showing that a NetNavi was still uploaded, although their details were indistinct through layers of static and glitching.
"I didn't realize there were any intact models here," said the Doctor. "What's your name, and how come you're still in your PET?"
"Meg-egaMan-doooot-EXE," the Navi replied, his speech as corrupted as his visage. "It got d-d-damaged, can't llllllleave or-or be erased, now I-I-I'm stuck here."
"A damaged PET. Alright, that I can buy. But how come they don't just… repair it for you?"
"Spe-peeeecial software, can o-only be fixed by-by-by Yuichiro Hikari," was the answer, MegaMan's tone becoming morose. "Hhhhhhe's gone, th-though. Him, Lan, Pa-Paaaatch... Could you st-you stay with meeee for a little while? Please?"
The Doctor frowned. "I know all too well what it's like to be lost," she said, sitting down. "Discarded, thrown away. I thought the closest thing I had to a parent loved me, but she just saw me as a tool."
"I'm so-sorry, uh… I-I never go-goooot your name."
She smiled, turning the PET over in her hands. "It's the Doctor," she replied, standing up and walking back to her TARDIS. "Just the Doctor. I may not be this Hikari bloke, but I reckon I can get you out of there. I won't abandon you, MegaMan, we'll stick together."
It was so quiet she could barely make it out, but it was clear as day. "…thank you."
Elsewhere
Within the interior of a Dalek spaceship, many occupants of the craft were gearing up for battle, overseen by their commander. This particular unit's only mark of distinction was a black dome, showing its rank.
"All combat squadrons will prepare for dispersal in sixty-two rels," it reported, swinging its eyestalk around animatedly. "We shall claim this Earth and the rest of its universe without delay. All resistance shall be exterminated! Daleks conquer and destroy!"
"Daleks conquer and destroy!" the other Daleks echoed, arms raised in an almost Nazi-esque style.
The assembled Daleks began dispersing, either to man assault craft or to be launched straight from the saucer into combat. One Dalek, however, had turned away, retreating deeper into the saucer. It rounded a corner into a deserted corridor, then made another turn into a storage space.
Once in the furthest corner, deep in the blindest of blind spots, the Dalek unfurled, forming into a six-armed robot, the Decepticon Octus. A hologram formed in front of him, showing the crocodile Megatron.
"Octus reporting," the spy began, checking the coast was clear. "The Daleks are on some futuristic Earth, planetfall begins in under a minute."
"Understood, Octus. What kind of defenses does this Earth possess?"
"No superheroes, to my understanding. Just simple mechs and battleships. I'd say they stand a fair chance against the Daleks."
"I see," replied Megatron, placing a hand to his chin. "If fate is in our favor, both sides will wear each other down, and we can effectively mop up any survivors. Continue monitoring the situation, the council wants updates as frequently as you can give them."
"I obe-um, sorry, force of habit."
Megatron just hummed. "Strategist Astrotrain got in character during his mission on Earth-8888, it happens to the best of us. You're dismissed."
The hologram dissipated, and Octus transformed back into a Dalek. He slid out of the storeroom, then trundled back into line, seamlessly blending in with the others. He would bide his time just a little longer, and then the Daleks would know the strength of the Decepticons.
The name "Isolt Payne" is an anagram of "post Ainley," since I see this guy being between Ainley and Tipple's Masters. Originally the name would've been reversed (with Payne being his first name), but ghe final version looks better in my opinion. He likely infused himself with Morphant DNA at some point after Survival (within IC, at least) and he's using its bodyjacking abilities as a prelude to the TV Movie.
I will say, this Earth is mostly based on Phase One MCU, with a few characters introduced after the fact, but there will be some strong deviations later on.
This chapter is mostly setup for larger developments down the line, but I have a bit more intrigue and action to come later, so don't fret.
Two stingers to fluff up the word count a little. The first sees the Duelist Doctor's first meeting with MegaMan. In MMSF, there's a pile of discarded PETs in one of the levels, thus that's where she finds him. Also an allusion to Tecteun, making her status as a pre-Hartnell Doctor more explicit.
Octus is a character from Marvel's UK Transformers comics, drawn to look like he transforms into a Dalek. Since to my knowledge he hasn't been featured yet, I figured I could include him here, working as a spy for the Council of Megatrons.
Earth-8888 is the world of the movie Unstoppable, since I watched a video about it recently, with the implication that Astrotrain was the runaway locomotive in the film. I didn't specify what the futuristic Earth the Daleks are planning to invade is, so if another writer wants to go into that they can.
I have a little more planned for the next chapter, so I'll see you next time.