The Man Out Of Time

Chapter 4: A Soul for a Stone

Steve Rogers stepped out of the portal, his boots sinking into the cold, hard rock of Vormir. His surroundings were stark and unforgiving, a barren landscape stretching infinitely under an alien sky. The swirling purple clouds above moved sluggishly, casting an eerie glow over the sharp, jagged cliffs that formed the planet's terrain. There was an unsettling quiet, the kind that made Steve's soldier instincts flare. This place felt like a tomb.

The Soul Stone pulsed faintly in his hand, the faint orange glow contrasting against the cold hues of Vormir. The weight of it was more than just physical. It was the heaviest burden yet, tied to a sacrifice that still tore at him with every breath.

Natasha.

Her name hung in the air like a ghost he couldn't shake. She had died for this stone-given her life so that they could finish the mission and save the universe. Standing here now, Steve felt like he was walking through a graveyard, only this grave didn't belong to one person. It belonged to everyone they'd lost.

As he neared the edge of the cliff, the same spot where Natasha had fallen, a chill ran down his spine. Steve had faced death a thousand times, but this place felt different. There was a finality here, a sense that nothing ever truly left Vormir. The silence seemed to close in around him, like the planet was holding its breath, waiting for something.

A whisper of movement caught Steve's attention. His muscles tensed, hand instinctively reaching for his shield-except he didn't have it. That absence felt like a missing limb. But he was Captain America, and he knew how to fight with or without his shield.

From the shadows at the edge of the cliff, a familiar figure emerged. Cloaked in darkness, his red skull gleaming beneath the tattered black hood, stood Johann Schmidt-the Red Skull.

"Rogers," the figure rasped, his voice hollow and filled with malice. "It seems the fates have brought us together again."

Steve's breath caught in his throat. Seeing Schmidt here, the man who had been his first enemy, was like being dragged back to a war he thought he'd left behind. Memories of their fight atop the Valkyrie came rushing back-the crash, the cold, the sense that he was sacrificing everything for the world. And Schmidt-Schmidt had been a fanatic, consumed by Hydra's ideology, willing to destroy everything for power.

But now Schmidt was something else. Not the man he had known, but a wraith, cursed to guard the Soul Stone for eternity.

"Schmidt," Steve replied, his voice even but laced with anger. "I thought I left you buried in the past."

The Red Skull drifted closer, his feet hovering just above the ground, cloaked in an eerie stillness. "The past has a way of catching up to us, doesn't it? You, of all people, should understand that."

Steve's jaw tightened, his hand still gripping the Soul Stone. He wasn't in the mood for Schmidt's cryptic games, but there was something about this place that made him uneasy. The Soul Stone demanded a sacrifice, and this cursed figure was its keeper. He had to return it, and then he could leave this place behind-leave Schmidt behind-once and for all.

"Step aside," Steve ordered, his voice hard. "I'm not here to play your games. I'm here to return the stone."

The Red Skull chuckled darkly. "And what good is that? Do you think returning the stone will change anything? Do you think it will undo the sacrifices that were made?"

Steve's chest tightened. Natasha's face flashed before his eyes, her last smile, her leap from the cliff. He clenched his fists. "I don't expect it to undo anything. But I'm not leaving without finishing what we started."

The Red Skull's hollow gaze bore into him. "Ah, yes. Ever the soldier. Always finishing the mission, no matter the cost."

"Spare me the speeches, Schmidt," Steve snapped, his patience wearing thin. "You're not Hydra anymore. You're just a ghost, stuck here with nothing left but your bitterness."

Schmidt's lips curled into a sneer, his voice lowering dangerously. "Perhaps I am a ghost, but the scars of Hydra run deep, don't they, Captain? They never truly left you. You and I-we are bound by more than just history. We are the remnants of a war that shaped the world."

Steve took a step forward, his hands at the ready, his body tensing for a fight he hoped wouldn't come but was prepared for. "I'm nothing like you," he growled. "And I'll make sure the world never sees another Hydra."

Schmidt's eyes gleamed with malice, and suddenly, in a blur of motion, he lashed out. A gust of dark energy knocked Steve back, his feet sliding across the rocky ground. The air seemed to crackle with an otherworldly energy, the power of the Soul Stone pulsing between them.

Steve barely had time to react before the Red Skull was on him, moving faster than a man his size should be able to. His skeletal hand shot out, grasping for the Soul Stone, but Steve was quicker. He ducked, pivoting on his heel as he landed a hard punch to Schmidt's side. The Red Skull staggered back, but his laughter echoed in the air.

"I see you haven't lost your touch, Captain," Schmidt taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "But you must know-here, on Vormir, you cannot win. This place is my domain. And you-"

Steve cut him off with a fierce uppercut, sending Schmidt stumbling back. "Shut up, Schmidt!" he snarled. "This ends now."

But even as Schmidt recovered, Steve could feel the toll this place was taking on him. The air was heavy, suffocating, and the weight of the Soul Stone in his hand felt like it was pulling him down. Every punch he threw felt slower, harder to land. Vormir wasn't just a planet-it was a test. A trial of will.

Schmidt, seemingly unhindered by the atmosphere, pressed his advantage. He darted forward again, this time grabbing Steve by the throat and lifting him off the ground with inhuman strength. Steve gasped for air, his vision blurring as Schmidt's cold, skeletal face loomed closer.

"This is your end, Captain," Schmidt hissed. "You've returned the stone, but you will not leave here."

Steve's vision began to fade, but through the darkness, memories surged forward. Memories of Natasha. Of Tony. Of Peggy. Of every single person he had fought for, bled for, lost. And in that moment, something clicked inside him-a resolve that burned hotter than any fire.

With a grunt of effort, Steve kicked Schmidt in the chest, forcing the Red Skull to release him. He dropped to the ground, landing hard but regaining his stance almost immediately. His eyes burned with determination.

"I've faced worse than you," Steve growled, his fists raised. "I didn't come this far to die on this rock."

The Red Skull smirked. "And yet here you are, alone. The weight of every life you couldn't save hanging over you."

"Not alone," Steve corrected. "Never alone. I carry them with me. Every one of them."

With a final surge of strength, Steve charged forward, landing a barrage of blows that sent Schmidt reeling. Each punch felt like a release-of guilt, of pain, of everything he had bottled up since the war. He was fighting not just for himself, but for Natasha, for Tony, for everyone who had made the ultimate sacrifice.

The final punch sent Schmidt sprawling to the ground, his dark cloak billowing around him like the shadow of death. But this time, Steve didn't wait for a response. He turned back toward the edge of the cliff, toward the spot where Natasha had fallen, and held the Soul Stone high.

A pulse of orange light enveloped the stone, and Steve watched as it floated from his hand, returning to its place, deep within Vormir.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Steve stood there, chest heaving, his hands trembling. It was done. The Soul Stone was back where it belonged. But Natasha was still gone. And nothing-not even this-could bring her back.

As he turned to leave, the Red Skull's voice drifted across the cliff once more. "We are bound, Captain. You cannot escape your past. And it will come for you, sooner than you think."

Steve didn't look back.