Summary: Tony, may he rest in peace, had asked a strange favor of me. (Yes, I did just say that.) That favor was to keep an eye on a certain alternate reality... ours. Apparently, there was a rift in the Ultimate Universe after the events of End Game that caused the reality you see in the movies to branch off from the one I hail from. This allowed for some very interesting developments to, well develop in our reality. Universes you may have thought were different from ours, were actually present this whole time. I've always known that places like Metropolis and Gotham existed, the heroes I know personally and the heroes of those cities simply were too caught up with their own troubles to ever meet. But now as I peer into this reality future, nothing makes sense, and it seems our separate ways will finally cross. I see things I can't begin to explain are flashing before my eyes. But perhaps the most perplexing of things I've seen in these visions is Tony... alive and well.

-Doctor Strange

A word before the story.

First, you should read Widow's Legacy before starting this story.

Second, yes, this story has to do with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Yes, you may not get every joke and might even get confused a time or two. There might be references you do not get. But please read it anyway. I wrote this story so that anyone can enjoy it.
Think of it like this: there are plenty of fantasy stories/shows that have their own made-up religions. And sometimes that religion can be a major element, for good or bad. But that doesn't mean you have to be a believer to enjoy it. Treat this story like that.
While what I write reflects my beliefs, I in no way speak for the LDS church. Like C.S. Lewis, I am simply expressing how I think God would work if my story was real. If you are confused by any religious aspects or have questions, let me know in the comments. I am happy to explain. My religion is just such a big part of my life that I can't keep it out of my writing.
My goals here are simple. First, to have fun. Second, to share wholesome uplifting entertainment that will make you think and maybe even make the world a little better. Third, to prove that you can handle, for lack of a better word, mature topics in a way that is uplifting and doesn't leave you feeling dirty. I promise that I will always write in a PG way. I'm rating this Teen because I am planning on addressing a few topics you won't find in a kid show but in a kid/tween appropriate way. (I hope that made sense.)
Note: This story right here will probably be the most heavily "Mormon" section.
Note 2: Italics is vision. If you've read Never Ending Story, the narrative flow is kind of like that.

The warehouse smelled of blood.

Old blood, but blood nevertheless. The heroes stood frozen on the precipice of action. A man with a black and orange mask held Morgan to his chest, a knife casually held to her throat. The girl's eyes glinted with defiance that belied her fear.

It was enough to make any father proud. Now all Tony had to do was free her.

One lone man, Deathstroke, Fury had called him, against all of them. It should have been easy.

It wasn't.

Falcon threw his shield, and Deathstroke caught it, throwing it back and knocking the hero out the sky. Sam dropped like a stone, the shield skittering to a stop a few feet from his head.

Wanda went to engage Deathstroke from the front, the Hulk beside her. It was a standoff, and Morgan wielded expertly as a human shield. There were many close calls where the heroes were barely able to pull their punches and avoid hitting her.

The rest of their allies were engaging Deathstroke's robot doppelgangers. But Tony saw an opening. The man who held his daughter captive was focused entirely on Scarlet Witch and Bruce; his backside was an open invitation.

Iron Man rose and took the shot.

Deathstroke whirled and raised Morgan's body to meet it.

Every scanner in his suit was happily confirming that the shot could not miss or be deflected. It would hit the pre-chosen target, nevermind someone else was in that spot now. In high definition, Tony Stark watched as tears threatened to spill from his baby girl's eyes as she realized she was about to die.

And then another body blocked her from view.

Doctor Strange yanked back to reality. That vision had been bizarre; never before had he viewed events from more than one point of view and been privy in part to the thoughts of the participants. He knew it was a vision of his own home reality, but how? Tony Stark was dead; if nothing else, of that he was sure.

He focused once more, submerging his consciousness into the timestream of his native reality.

Disjointed images flitted by, none staying in focus long. A young woman with flaming hair and beautiful white wings, trying to soar free but the chain on her leg binding her to the sterile ground.

Two masked women shrouded in black, running through the halls of the Helicarrier, leaving destruction and mayhem in their wake.

Rows upon rows of hibernation chambers, their occupants hidden from view. Villains in strange costumes, gaunt and pale, strapped to beds and moaning as armed men patrolled between them.

The images flew by faster and faster, blurring together. Glowing electric blue eyes crackled into focus, blinding…

Stephen pulled out once more, gasping for air. Nothing was making sense! How was he supposed to protect this universe if glimpses of the future defied what he knew to be true?

He swore the Ancient One was laughing at him.

"Wong?"

"Yes, Stephen?"

"I have a problem." Stephen relayed the vision to his friend, and Wong listened intently. "I don't understand any of it!"

"May I suggest you start at the beginning?" Wong responded. "And keep an open mind. There are still many simple truths you have yet to learn. Be careful of your pride, Doctor Strange."

"And just where is the beginning?" Stephen grumbled.

Wong shrugged. "That is for you to find. Look for where things changed."

Doctor Strange figured he should get right to it. There were lives at risk. As he resumed his meditation, and the present vanished from view, Wong gave him one last piece of advice.

"Be patient. It is the small and seemingly insignificant things that often make the greatest impact. You must see things through and trust that it will reveal what you need to know."

Bruce Wayne was sitting outside a café brooding over his coffee. Alfred was beside him, content to ignore his young master's mood. Bruce was fine with that. He was too busy glaring at two young men in dark suits, walking down a residential street knocking on doors. (It might also be one of those rare occasions where he was too sleep-deprived to remember that he was always supposed to be cheerful in public unless he had his cowl on.)

"I don't like those two."

Alfred looked up from his cup of proper English tea. "Who?"

Bruce made an almost imperceptible gesture with his head. "Those two in the suits."

Alfred looked in the direction Bruce had gestured and saw the young men in question.

"Ah yes, the Mormon Missionaries," Alfred said brightly, "lovely young people."

"I don't like the look of them." Bruce continued, not hearing Alfred's remark, "They must be from Lex Corp. They've been in the city for over a week, and I think it's time Batman showed them the door."

"Batman will do no such thing!" Alfred stated sternly. "Did you not hear what I said?"

"Hmm?"

"They are Mormon missionaries, Bruce. Besides, Batman has no right to go throwing well dressed young men out of the city just because they look suspicious. I happen to have looked into the business of those two young men myself, and Gotham is blessed to have them visiting."

Bruce looked at his butler in surprise, an incredulous look on his face. "Well, you certainly have an opinion about those two. What do you know about the Mormons and their well dressed young people?"

"They are missionaries Bruce and good men."

"Really? You know those two then?"

"No, but I've met others like them."

The incredulous eyebrow only raised further. "Go on."

Alfred inhaled deeply before continuing. "During my time serving in the Great War, I fought alongside several Mormons. I was always impressed with their valor, bravery, and impeccable manners. They seemed to have a firm grasp of why they were here and where they were going. I wished I had asked them what made them so determined. If these young men are anything like the ones I knew then, Gotham is indeed lucky to have them."

Bruce nodded, satisfied with the answer. Alfred was an excellent judge of character, and if he trusted these boys, then so would Bruce… to a certain extent, that is. "Well, I have no interest in what they have to say." he sighed, getting up, "But I won't bother them. Feel free to ask them your question though. Maybe they'll tell you the secret is never to wear flip-flops."

Alfred smiled. "I wasn't aware that I needed your permission. And you should never wear flip-flops. They're not proper shoes."

Bruce chuckled.

Gotham, the vision took place in Gotham. The names of the two young men knocking on doors revealed themselves to Stephen's mind; the senior Elder was Elder McKoy and the other was Elder Lee. Far more interesting were the subtle implications, like notes from a narrator of a book, that came through the vision. They suggested there was far more to playboy Bruce Wayne than met the eye.

Strange wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know about the billionaire's secrets. It felt like he was invading into something private. But Morgan's life could be at stake. He plunged on.

Alfred had just finished putting the last of the items from the local grocer in the car. It was pouring rain. Alfred closed the boot and hurried into the driver's seat. He was about to drive off when he caught sight of the two young missionaries from the day before. They were going door to door again. It was obvious they hadn't had any success as another door was slammed in their faces before they could get past "hello". Someone threw mud at the senior looking one, and he visibly bit his tongue to keep from saying something un-gentleman like.

Alfred felt for the two. He made up his mind.

Lee stumbled in the now blinding rain, and McKoy bowled into him. The two came crashing to the ground. They just lay there for a moment, almost to numb from the cold to notice when the rain stopped. They both looked up to see a friendly, older gentleman holding an umbrella over them.

"Would you like a hand?"

The gentleman helped McKoy up, who, in turn, helped Elder Lee up. The gentlemen pulled out a handkerchief and attempted to clean up the boys' suits as best he could. The Elders were taken back by the gestures of kindness. They just stood there dumbly.

At last satisfied that his handkerchief could do no more, the older man straightened. "Are you quite all right, Elders?" he said in the Queen's English.

McKoy was still stumbling over his words when Lee answered, "Yes, yes we are, thank you! You know who we are then?"

"Yes," replied the gentleman, "I knew young men like you back in World War II. Lovely companions."

Elder McKoy seemed to have finally found his voice, "thank you for your service Mr…"

"Pennyworth." Alfred said, nodding his head, "and it was nothing. Just doing what I could."

"Oh, oh, thank you for helping us up too, but I meant your service in the war, but-but thank you for…" Elder McKoy finally clamped his mouth shut, thoroughly embarrassed now.

"I know what you meant." Alfred said, chuckling, "Well, I'd best get going, and you young men have work to do!"

"Right!" McKoy said his ears a little less pink, "thank you again, Mr. Pennyworth. Is-is there anything we can do for you before we go?"

"Actually there is something you could do for me, Elders, if it's not too much. There's something I'd like to ask you. But I am rather busy at the moment, and I am afraid the answer will take quite some time."

"Of course! Uh…" McKoy quickly fumbled in his suit coat pocket, finally drawing out a notebook (by some miracle was still dry) and pen. "Write down the time and place, and we will be there!" he said with perhaps a little too much excitement.

Alfred simply smiled and took the notebook. He scribbled something down and handed it back. McKoy squinted at the note and then smiled, "I'll see you at six then, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Please, call me Alfred." Alfred smiled back, "I best be off then. Good luck, Elders."

The Elders nodded enthusiastically, scared that if they spoke, they would wake up from this dream.

The fact this was reality must have finally settled because as Alfred drove away, he could see in his rearview mirror the Elders dancing in the rain.