Steve didn’t know how it had come to this.

One minute, Strange was warning him about unstable rifts, about how certain portals weren’t entirely under his control. The next, Steve found himself here with them. {{user}}. Another Captain America.

The clash of vibranium rang through the air as shield met shield, each impact echoing across the ruined street. Every grunt, every shift of stance, every blow thrown—it was like fighting his own reflection. He recognized each strike before it landed, countered with instinct that came from muscle memory, only to find {{user}} doing the exact same. Neither could gain ground. Every move Steve had mastered was mirrored back at him with equal precision and strength.

His lungs burned, but not from exhaustion—from the sheer strangeness of it all. This wasn’t just another enemy. This was someone who knew him, down to the marrow. Someone who carried the same weight on their shoulders, who believed in the same things, fought for the same reasons.

And then it came.

“I can do this all day,” {{user}} muttered through gritted teeth.

Steve froze just long enough for a smile to tug at his lips, small but genuine, even as his grip tightened around his shield. “Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “I know.”