Falling in Marvel

Good luck

---

The sky darkened as alien ships loomed above. Explosions echoed through the city streets, and smoke billowed up from buildings in the distance. He ran—feet pounding against the pavement—every instinct screaming at him to keep moving.

The fleet of Chitauri ships descended faster now, their screeches filling the air like nails on glass. Panic spread through the streets as civilians scrambled in every direction, a wave of chaos rolling outward.

But he couldn't stop.

"The Sanctum," he muttered between ragged breaths, eyes darting toward street signs as he navigated the maze of New York. He was close. *Three streets away.*

Then he saw her.

A little girl, no older than six, stood frozen in the middle of the street , clutching a stuffed bear to her chest. Her wide eyes were locked on the sky as people pushed past her in desperation.

"Where are her parents?" he mumbled, slowing for a split second.

Then his heart sank. A Chitauri soldier landed on a rooftop nearby, its glowing spear aimed downward as it scanned for stragglers. Its cold, mechanical gaze locked onto the girl.

"No. No, no…"

The girl took a step back, only to stumble and fall to the ground, crying out as her ankle twisted.

*I should run.* The thought flashed through his mind. *I can't save her. I'm not a hero.*

But another voice whispered—his younger sister's face flickered in his mind, tear-streaked and scared.

"Dammit!"

Without another thought, he sprinted toward the girl. "Hey!" he shouted, sliding to a stop beside her. "It's okay, I've got you."

The girl looked up at him with wide, tearful eyes, unable to speak. He scooped her up into his arms just as the Chitauri soldier leapt from the rooftop, its growl echoing in the air.

"Not good. Not good!"

He ran. His legs burned, lungs heaving, but the sound of the Chitauri's pursuit drove him forward. The soldier was faster—its spear clanged against the alley walls as it closed the distance.

He darted into a narrow alley, hoping to lose it, but his arms felt heavier with every step. "Almost there," he whispered to the girl, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to l

The streets were chaos. Smoke choked the air, flames licked the edges of ruined buildings, and the distant roars of Chitauri echoed through the canyon of skyscrapers. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to *run*—to find cover, to hide. But the girl in his arms shifted weakly, and he couldn't ignore her whimper of pain.

*Keep going.*

His legs burned as he sprinted, weaving through the debris-strewn streets, heart hammering with every step. He didn't dare look back. He knew the Chitauri soldier was close—its snarls had turned into furious screeches.

"Just a little farther…" he gasped.

Turning a corner sharply, he stumbled into a quieter street—deserted, somehow untouched by the destruction. Ahead of him loomed an ancient, unassuming building at odds with the rest of Manhattan. It was squat and brownstone, its facade marked only by an ornate circular window gleaming faintly in the smoky light.

Relief and disbelief surged through him. He had made it.

But something was wrong. The door wasn't there.

"What? No—no, no, no." He blinked, searching the building frantically. He knew this was the place. He had seen it in the movies. 'The Sanctum Sanctorum is here!'

Behind him, a sharp, metallic screech split the air. He twisted to see the Chitauri soldier rounding the corner, its glowing weapon raised.

"Damn it!" He turned back to the wall of the Sanctum, desperation overtaking him. "Please let this work."

With the girl held protectively in one arm, he pounded his fist against the stone wall where the door should be. "Hey! Anybody in there? Open up! I need help!"

Nothing.

"Come on!" he yelled. His voice cracked, filled with panic. "There's a kid here! She's hurt!"

The Chitauri soldier screeched closer, its footsteps heavy and fast.

He gritted his teeth, trying to shield the girl as much as he could. He turned to face the soldier, chest heaving. 'If I'm going down, I'm going down swinging.'

The Chitauri raised its weapon—

—and then vanished.

He blinked. The creature didn't fall, didn't scream. It simply… *disappeared*, as though erased from existence.

The street fell silent.

"What the hell…?"

A voice spoke from behind him—calm, measured, and unmistakably powerful.

"You're a very determined young man."

He spun around.

Standing there, seemingly out of nowhere, was a bald woman dressed in flowing yellow robes. Her hands were clasped calmly behind her back, her presence somehow larger than life. Behind her, the *door* to the Sanctum Sanctorum now existed, perfectly in place—as though it had always been there.

"The door—" He stared at her, breathless, words failing him. "It wasn't… *How did you…?*"

She tilted her head, regarding him with a mix of curiosity and quiet authority. Her gaze flicked to the girl in his arms. "The child is unharmed?"

"I—uh, yeah. She's just… she fell. Hurt her foot, I think." He hesitated, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. "Who are you? You're… you're the Ancient One, aren't you?"

The Ancient One raised an eyebrow at the familiarity in his voice. "You know of me?"

He swallowed hard. "Sort of. It's… complicated."

Her piercing gaze lingered on him, and for a moment, the street around them felt heavier, as though the world itself were waiting for something to happen. Finally, she nodded toward the door.

"Come inside. You have much to explain."

-Inside the Sanctum-

The moment he crossed the threshold, the chaos of the outside world faded into silence. The Sanctum's interior was vast and imposing, filled with an ancient, mystical air that made his skin prickle. The stone walls hummed with unseen energy, and the light from ornate lamps cast strange shadows that danced in the corners of his vision.

"Whoa…" he muttered.

He gently set the girl down on a bench nearby. She still didn't say much, only staring quietly as though processing the ordeal.

"You've brought a great disturbance into this place," the Ancient One said, her voice echoing faintly. She stepped forward, studying him carefully. "And you're no ordinary wanderer."

He rubbed his hands nervously, trying to find words. "Listen, I know this sounds insane, but I'm not from here. Not… *really.* I don't belong here."

Her expression didn't change. "That much is obvious."

"Then you know what's happening, right? You're the Sorcerer Supreme—you're supposed to understand this kind of stuff." He gestured toward the girl. "I saved her, and I'm just looking for somewhere safe for me and her to wait this out. And maybe… maybe you can help me."

"Help you?"

"I want to learn," he said quickly, the words spilling out. "Magic. The mystic arts. If I can learn from you, maybe I can… I don't know, survive this. Fix this."

For the first time, the Ancient One's expression shifted, a faint hint of amusement playing at the corner of her lips. "Magic isn't something one simply 'learns' in desperation. It requires discipline, clarity, and purpose."

He squared his shoulders, meeting her gaze. "I have purpose. I have to learn. Please."

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, she nodded, ever so slightly. "We shall see."

As he let out a breath of relief, she turned and gestured to Mordo, who had just entered the room.

"Show them the quarters. And keep an eye on him."