In Stark's lab several floors below the penthouse, Bakugo was struggling to maintain his patience as Banner ran a series of seemingly endless tests. Sensors attached to his temples and chest measured his biometrics while specialized equipment recorded energy readings as he generated small, controlled explosions on command.
"Fascinating," Banner murmured, studying the results.
"The chemical composition is indeed similar to nitroglycerin, but there are significant modifications that make it far more stable under your control. And the ignition mechanism appears to be neurologically triggered rather than purely chemical."
"I know how my own quirk works," Bakugo grumbled. Banner's scientific approach reminded him somewhat of Power Loader and the Support Department at U.A.—focused on understanding the mechanisms rather than just the applications.
"Yeah, yeah, of course," Banner acknowledged, adjusting his glasses. "But understanding the precise nature of your abilities might help us identify the dimensional frequency of your home universe. Each reality has its own quantum signature—if we can isolate the energy patterns unique to your world, theoretically, we could establish a connection."
That caught Bakugo's interest. "So you could actually find our world? Specifically?"
"Potentially," Banner cautioned. "It's all highly theoretical. The multiverse theory suggests an infinite number of alternate realities. Finding one specific universe would be like locating a particular grain of sand on a beach that stretches across the entire planet."
Bakugo huffed. "That doesn't sound encouraging."
"But," Stark interjected, looking up from the holographic display where he'd been reviewing structural damage reports, "if your world has distinctive energy signatures—like, say, 80% of the population having superpowers—that creates a much more unique fingerprint. Less needle in a haystack, more like finding the one fluorescent hay bale in a field of regular hay."
"Still challenging," Banner qualified, "but not impossible. Especially if we can identify the specific energy signature of the villain's quirk that sent you here."
Bakugo considered this, absently creating small crackling explosions between his fingers—a nervous habit he'd never tell. "We need Deku for that. He was closest to the villain when it happened. Practically obsessive about analyzing quirks, too."
"Your friend with the green lightning," Stark recalled. "The one who takes notes on everything."
Bakugo snorted. "That's him. Been analyzing quirks since we were kids. Probably has the villain's entire profile memorized."
"You've known each other a long time?" Banner asked, seemingly as interested in their personal dynamics as their powers.
"Unfortunately," Bakugo muttered, though something in his tone had shifted, lacking the genuine hostility that might have colored such a response weeks earlier. Recent events at U.A. had complicated his relationship with Deku, forcing reluctant growth he wasn't entirely comfortable acknowledging.
Stark and Banner exchanged glances, clearly noting the complexity behind the simple answer.
"Well, we'll need to bring him in on this discussion," Banner concluded diplomatically. "The more detailed information we have about the event that brought you here, the better our chances of replicating it in reverse."
"Fine," Bakugo agreed, removing the sensors from his temples with barely contained impatience. "Are we done with these tests?"
"Yep. For now," Banner confirmed, gathering the data. "I'll need to analyze these results before the next round."
Bakugo stood, rolling his shoulders to release tension. Being treated as a research subject wasn't his idea of productive activity. "I need to train. Where's your facility?"
"JARVIS will direct you," Stark replied, still focused on his holographic displays. "Try not to destroy anything irreplaceable. And for god's sake, take it easy on that shoulder. Rogers wasn't wrong about the 48-hour recovery window."
Bakugo scoffed but offered a curt nod before exiting the lab. Once in the hallway, he paused, suddenly aware of the vastness of the unfamiliar building.
"Young sir," JARVIS's voice came from hidden speakers, causing Bakugo to startle slightly, "would you like directions to the training facility?"
"...Yeah," Bakugo admitted after a moment's hesitation, uncomfortable with addressing an invisible entity but practical enough to accept assistance when needed.
"Take the elevator to sublevel three. I will guide you from there."
As Bakugo followed the AI's directions, his mind whirled with conflicting emotions. The scientific discussion had made their situation seem both more hopeful and more daunting. A way home might exist, but finding it would be monumentally difficult. They might be stuck here for weeks, months—possibly forever.
The thought sent a spike of anxiety through him that he immediately converted to anger, his default coping mechanism. Whatever happened, he refused to be helpless. If they were stuck here, he'd adapt, grow stronger, become the best hero in this world too. And if a way home existed, he'd find it—with or without these "Avengers" and their fancy technology.
The training facility, when he reached it, was impressively equipped, if somewhat battle-damaged. Reinforced punching bags, weight stations, an obstacle course, and what appeared to be combat robots in various states of repair filled the large space.
"Mr. Stark authorizes use of all basic equipment," JARVIS informed him. "The training robots are currently offline for maintenance."
Bakugo nodded, already wrapping his hands with the available athletic tape, careful of his injured shoulder. He approached one of the punching bags, testing its resistance with a light jab.
Then, with methodical precision, he began to train—each punch, each controlled explosion, a defiance against the uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm him. In the familiar rhythm of exertion, he found temporary respite from the questions that haunted him.
Where was home? Would they ever see it again? And if not, what would they become in this strange world?
********
As evening fell on their first full day in this new dimension, the three U.A. students reconvened in Midoriya's guest quarters, each bringing information gathered from their separate investigations.
"They're calling themselves 'The Avengers' now," Midoriya informed Todoroki, referring to the notes he'd taken throughout the day. "It's unofficial, but the media has latched onto the name."
"Fitting," Todoroki commented. "From what Captain Rogers explained, they were assembled specifically to avenge Earth if it was ever threatened."
"What about us?" Bakugo demanded, pacing restlessly. "Where do we fit in their little team?"
Midoriya hesitated. "They're... protective. Especially Rogers. They see us as minors who need safeguarding, even while respecting our abilities."
"Patronizing," Bakugo rolled his eyes.
"Responsible," Todoroki countered. "They don't know us. And in their world, people our age don't typically engage in combat."
"Did Banner make any progress?" Midoriya asked, redirecting the conversation before Bakugo could work himself into a proper tantrum.
Bakugo shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement of his injured shoulder. "Maybe. He's analyzing our 'quantum signatures' or whatever. Says if they can identify our home dimension's unique energy pattern, they might be able to establish a connection."
Midoriya's eyes widened. "That's promising! Did he say how long it might take?"
"No," Bakugo admitted grudgingly. "And he didn't sound particularly confident. Stark said something about infinite universes and finding needles in haystacks."
"Thor mentioned consulting Asgardian scholars," Todoroki added. "He seemed to think the Tesseract might be capable of creating a pathway home, though Stark was adamantly against using it."
Midoriya nodded thoughtfully. "After what happened with the invasion, I understand their caution. But if it's our only option..."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Todoroki said pragmatically. "For now, we gather information, train, and adapt."
A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. Midoriya opened it to find Rogers standing outside, now dressed in civilian clothes that somehow still managed to look formal on his imposing frame.
"Hope I'm not interrupting," he said politely. "I wanted to check on you all before turning in for the night."
"We're fine," Bakugo answered curtly from across the room.
"We were just comparing notes," Midoriya explained more diplomatically, gesturing for Rogers to enter. "Thank you for checking on us."
Rogers stepped inside, his gaze taking in the scattered notes and the three teenagers with concern and respect. "I know this situation is immensely difficult for you," he said directly. "Being displaced from everything and everyone you know—I understand something of what that feels like."
The sincerity in his voice caught them off guard. Midoriya realized that Rogers, with his experience of waking up seventy years in the future, might indeed comprehend their disorientation better than most.
"You adapted," Todoroki observed quietly.
"I'm still adapting," Rogers corrected with a self-deprecating smile. "Every day. But yes, it's possible. Not always easy, but possible."
"Were you alone?" Midoriya asked, then immediately regretted the potentially painful question. "I'm sorry, that's personal—"
"It's alright," Rogers assured him. "And yes, I was. Everyone I knew was either gone or... very different. But I found new connections, new purpose." He glanced around at the three of them. "You at least have each other. That matters more than you might realize right now."
The observation hung in the air, profound in its simplicity. They were stranded, yes, but not alone. The three of them—rivals, classmates, reluctant friends—had each other to rely on.
"We'll find a way to send you home," Rogers promised, his voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction. "Tony and Bruce are already working on it. Thor has resources we can't even imagine. But in the meantime, I want you to know that you have a place here with us. For as long as necessary."
"Thank you," Midoriya said sincerely, deeply moved by the man's steadfast reassurance. "That means a lot."
"Tomorrow we'll start getting you properly set up," Rogers continued. "Clothes, identification, communication devices. Director Fury has arranged cover stories that should hold up to basic scrutiny. Japanese exchange students staying with Stark Industries as part of an international education program."
"They're really going for exchange students?" Bakugo repeated, clearly unimpressed with the cover story.
"It explains your age, your accents, and your presence here," Rogers pointed out reasonably. "We considered other options, but this provides the most freedom with the least questions."
"It's sensible," Todoroki acknowledged. "Though we'll need to be careful about using our quirks in public."
Rogers nodded. "Very careful. The world is still processing the existence of beings like Thor and the Hulk. Three teenagers with similar abilities might attract unwanted attention."
"From who?" Midoriya asked, his analytical mind immediately cataloging potential threats. "You mentioned others might be interested in us. Who exactly are we avoiding?"
Rogers hesitated, clearly weighing how much to share. "There are... organizations with interests in enhanced individuals. Some governmental, some private. Not all with benevolent intentions."
"They want to study us," Bakugo surmised bluntly. "Or use us as weapons."
"In some cases, yes," Rogers admitted. "Your abilities would be... valuable to certain parties. Especially given your youth and training."
The implications settled heavily on them. In this world, their quirks didn't make them potential heroes—they made them potential assets or threats to be controlled.
"Is that why you're helping us?" Todoroki asked quietly, his heterochromatic gaze fixed steadily on Rogers. "To ensure we don't fall into the wrong hands?"
"Partially," Rogers answered with refreshing honesty. "I won't deny there are strategic considerations. But primarily, we're helping because it's the right thing to do. You're three kids a long way from home who fought alongside us when it mattered. That means something to all of us."
The simple declaration seemed to satisfy even Bakugo, who gave a short nod of acknowledgment.
"Get some rest," Rogers advised, moving toward the door. "Tomorrow will be busy. We'll begin establishing routines, training schedules, and continuing our research into finding your way home."
After Rogers departed, the three students sat in contemplative silence for several moments.
"He's like All Might," Midoriya finally observed softly. "Different quirk—I mean, abilities—but the same core principles."
"Less annoying about it though," Bakugo muttered, though the criticism lacked his usual venom.
"We're lucky to have found allies like them," Todoroki stated simply. "In an unfamiliar world, we could have encountered much worse."
Midoriya nodded, remembering Rogers's words about having each other. Despite their complicated relationships, despite Bakugo's antagonism and Todoroki's reserve, they were bound together by their shared experience as U.A. students—and now, as dimensional travelers.
"We should follow his advice," Todoroki continued, rising from his seat. "Rest. Tomorrow will bring new challenges."
Bakugo stood as well, stretching his good arm. "I'm hitting the training facility again at 0600. Either of you want to join, be there on time. I'm not waiting around."
The invitation, gruff as it was, represented a significant shift in Bakugo's usual lone-wolf approach. Midoriya smiled slightly but knew better than to comment on it.
"I'll be there," he promised instead.
"Might as well," Todoroki agreed with a small shrug. "We need to stay sharp."
As his classmates left for their own rooms, Midoriya remained seated on the edge of his bed, staring out at the unfamiliar skyline of New York. The city was still wounded from the battle, sections darkened by power outages, emergency lights flashing in the distance. But it had survived. People were rebuilding already.
He pulled out his slightly singed notebook—a comfort item he'd managed to keep through the dimensional transfer—and began writing everything he'd learned that day. About this new world, about the Avengers, about the possibilities for returning home.
The familiar action grounded him, providing a sense of continuity between his old life and whatever this new situation might bring.
Adapting, Rogers had called it. Not forgetting, not replacing, but building something new while honoring what came before.
Midoriya could do that. They all could.
*********
In a secured SHIELD facility across the city, Nick Fury reviewed the preliminary reports on the three dimensional travelers with a deepening frown.
"Power levels?" he asked the analyst beside him.
"Significant, sir," the woman replied, sliding forward several graphs. "The explosive one—Bakugo—registers energy outputs comparable to some of our most advanced weapons systems. The dual-element user—Todoroki—can manipulate thermal energy to an extent we've never documented in a human subject. And Midoriya's enhanced strength appears to operate on a similar principle to Captain Rogers's, but with additional energy manifestation we don't yet understand."
Fury nodded slowly, his single eye scanning the data. "And they claim this is common where they're from? Eighty percent of their population has abilities like these?"
"That's what they've stated, sir. Of course, we have no way to verify—"
"The readings don't lie," Fury interrupted. "Whatever world they come from, it's fundamentally different from ours." He set down the report, his expression contemplative. "Keep monitoring. Full surveillance on all communications and activities."
"Sir," the analyst acknowledged. "And if Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark succeed in finding a way to send them home?"
Fury was silent for a long moment. "That's the ideal outcome," he finally stated. "But in the meantime, we learn everything we can. About their world, their abilities, their training methods."
"And if they choose to stay?"
Fury's expression revealed nothing of his thoughts on that possibility. "Then we ensure they stay on our side. Because I don't want to imagine a world where three teenagers with those abilities decide we're their enemies." He turned away, coat swirling dramatically. "Keep me updated on Banner's progress."
As the director departed, the analyst returned to her monitoring station, where three separate screens displayed vital signs and location data for the young dimensional travelers, currently sleeping peacefully in Stark Tower.
Whatever Fury's ultimate plans, one thing was certain—the arrival of these three students from another world had irreversibly changed the equation. The only question was whether that change would prove beneficial or catastrophic in the long run.
For now, they waited, watched, and prepared for either possibility.