TITLE: DOOMSDAY
Written by: Kris Adams
Written for: Disney Marvel


ACT I — THE FRACTURED BEGINNING

INT. DARK ROOM — THE ILLUMINATI
AUDIO-ONLY echoes of Endgame time jumps.

“Pull my pin.”
"I am going to try something."
"I have no idea if this will work."
"That is America's ass."

One by one, silhouettes materialise:
DOOM (TONY) — Visionary Strategist
HYDRA CAP — Cold-Eyed Enforcer
MAESTRO HULK — Unleashed Id
EVIL STRANGE — Timeline Sorcerer
BLACK PANTHER — Tactical Wildcard

A new circle has formed.

INT. (DOOM’S EARTH) — POST-TIME HEIST FALLOUT

Green Tint. Rain pelts down on a devastated city.
We hear echoing fragments from Endgame:

STEVE (V.O.)
“We lost.”

TONY (V.O.)
“Part of the journey is the end.”

THOR (V.O.)
“I went for the head.”

A massive AVENGERS mural collapses in the wind.

MONTAGE — DOOM’S EARTH UNRAVELING:

— Foreign ships in the sky. New incursions.
— A news anchor: “No answers from Stark Industries…”
— Sorcerers under attack. The Sanctum boarded shut.
— Broken people. Fallen statues. Streets abandoned.
— Hulk rampages in a ruined street. “Leave me ALONE!”

Smash cut:

INT. BASEMENT SHELTER — NIGHT

STEVE ROGERS (Hydra Cap) stares at a cracked SHIELD emblem.
He wipes blood off his face. A beaten soldier now.
He watches a replay from 2012:
His good self knocking him out and stealing the staff.
His jaw clenches.

Beneath the static — a voice.

IRON MAN (O.S.)
“You saw them, too.”

Steve turns. IRON MAN steps from the shadows.
But this is not our Iron Man. His suit is darker. Rougher.
A cloak attached to the back of the armor. No arc reactor glow. Just dim, mechanical hums.

STEVE
That wasn’t me.
That was something else.

IRON MAN
Something worse. Something pretending to be us.

He removes the faceplate.
It’s Tony, but his eyes are different.
He’s seen too much. The genius is now haunted.
This is Doom.

DOOM (CONT’D)
They came from somewhere… outside. They broke the rules.
They changed the world.
And now we’re just background noise in their timeline.

Steve stands, tense.

STEVE
I want to know the truth. Not the version they left behind.
But they aren’t coming back.
So we find them and squeeze the answers out.

DOOM
Then let’s do it properly. Together.

Cue music build to title reveal

DOOMSDAY

INT. (SACRED EARTH) — 2012 → 1970 (2nd consecutive Time Jump)
MILITARY BASE
(Warm, hopeful saturation. Endgame tone. Mirror scene.)

TONY and STEVE arrive using their TIME TRAVEL WRIST DEVICES.

CUT TO:

INT. (FF’S EARTH) — LATVERIA — CASTLE DOOM — SAME TIME
(Silver-blue tint. Crackling air. Violent cosmic energy.)


A YOUNG WOMAN — doomed and divine — is in labor.
A flash of lightning makes her cry out in pain.

Moments from the Sacred Earth 1970 scene causes increasingly violent weather in the FF’s Earth scene. The longer Tony and Steve are in that world, the worse it gets for this woman in labour.

MILITARY BASE

Tony encounters a younger HOWARD STARK in the elevator.
They speak.
We don’t recreate every line — we mirror the scene from Endgame.
Howard talks about his wife being due any moment. He’s nervous.
Mentions a name he’s thinking of: Victor.
Tony looks confused. He jokes, “Last in roll call. How about Anthony?”

LATVERIA

The castle walls groan with pressure. Candles flicker and die.
DOCTORS, MYSTICS, SERVANTS work frantically.
A thunderstorm outside rages unnaturally — distorted like a glitch in time.
Her SCREAMS peak as she pushes.

MIDWIFE
He’s coming—!

A blinding surge of energy. She gasps — breathless — and goes limp.
Silence.

Then: a cry.

A BABY BOY is lifted into the frame.
Already scarred. Not a wound — his face is permanently marked. He was born split.

DOCTOR (whispers, shaken)
What… happened to his face?

MIDWIFE (softly)
It’s like… something touched him before he arrived.

FATHER (O.S.)
His name is Victor.

Outside, the storm stops. As if the world just blinked.

CUT BACK TO:

EXT. (SACRED EARTH) — MILITARY BASE — CONTINUOUS
Steve is heading back to meet Tony.


TONY (O.S.)
We reached backward… and pulled something forward.

STEVE returns, holding the particles.

STEVE
We good?

Tony gives a nod. But he’s lost in thought.
They activate their wrist devices.
Shrinking out of the frame.

MATCH CUT TO:

Victor Von Doom’s eyes opening for the first time.
A storm still flickering behind them.

FADE OUT.

INT. (DOOM’S EARTH) — THE ILLUMINATI FORMS
(Muted green tint. Intercutting vignettes. All roads lead to the round table.)

DOOM (O.S.)
This world didn’t break.
It was cracked open.
And all we did was fall through the gap.

INT. (DOOM’S EARTH) — KATHMANDU RUINS — DUSK

Flickering lanterns cast skeletal shadows on cracked stone. In the center of what was once a vault of mystic knowledge, STRANGE wanders alone — a surgeon stripped of vows, stripped of purpose.

He isn’t fast anymore.
His steps are uncertain echoes in corridors that should have whispered secrets. He’d come searching for answers, but the answers had vanished with the Ancient One. And with her gone, everything else had unraveled.

He is so focused on finding the light, he doesn’t notice Doom step from the shadows at first.

DOOM (V.O.)
Still searching for a fix, Doctor?

Strange stops, breath catches. He knows that voice. Shouldn’t. But he does.
He turns. Doom stands there, angled in the golden dust—both familiar and impossible.

STRANGE
Are you… Iron Man?

Doom’s cloak waves in the breeze.

DOOM
Someone who knows what loss is. Just like you do, Doctor.
And just like you, I never got to see my potential. Until now.


STRANGE stirs, alert, keen.
He hopes it’s more than many meaningless promises.

STRANGE
You shouldn’t know me.

DOOM
I know more than a mere mortal should know.
And I do know you, Stephen.
I know surgeons who lost their touch. I know men who lost their world.
But you, you lost your destiny.
You feel it.

Strange’s eye twitches. Doom steps forward, almost kind. Almost warm.

DOOM (CONT’D)
You never met your mentors. This world robbed you of it. But if you still have your hands… maybe you can still become who you are meant to be.

STRANGE
My hands?

DOOM
Your tools. Your ability to hold a new destiny.


He extends a relic. Half-familiar, half-unbelievable. Strange doesn’t trust, but he reaches.
In that moment the spark travels through him.
Strange feels a surge of power.
But it’s not the old world.
He looks into Doom’s eyes and sees the truth:
This path is more dangerous, but at least it’s real.

EXT. VIBRANIUM CANYON — NIGHT

BLACK PANTHER stands atop a fallen outpost. His armour glimmers with battle scars.
Doom approaches. Slowly.

BLACK PANTHER
You want MY metal, Metal Man?
Try take it from me.

DOOM
I need you, T’Challa.

T’Challa freezes. That name shouldn’t be known.

DOOM (CONT’D)
You see the fractures. The lies.
This world was written wrong.
Help me rewrite it.

Panther eyes him. Then nods once.

BLACK PANTHER
I’ll point where you point.

They both know the truth — Doom needs the Vibranium. Not the king.
But it’s enough, for now.

INT. HULK CONTAINMENT — DEEP CHAMBER — NIGHT

The air is thick with the scent of iron and ozone. Underground. Ancient concrete walls lined with layers of reinforced steel and arcane seals. Light flickers from hanging lamps — not fluorescent, but sickly green, as if they too are trying to keep something at bay.Then: a low growl. Deep. Subterranean.

Beyond the glass, in a pit carved out like a well of despair, MAESTRO HULK crouches.
Not just a version of the Hulk — something worse. His hair is matted, longer. A grizzled beard clings to his face like shadow. His body is broader, crueler. No trace of Banner’s softness — just sinew and savage intelligence. His eyes glow faintly, always tracking. Always thinking.

This isn’t rage.
It’s calculated malice.
A fresh streak of blood marks the wall behind him — not his.
Across from the glass, DOOM and BLACK PANTHER stand, silent.

BLACK PANTHER
He’s lost everything that made him human.

DOOM
Good. Humanity is a weakness we cannot afford.

The Hulk lunges suddenly — slamming into the glass with a roar that makes the floor tremble. It doesn’t break. Not this time.
Panther doesn’t flinch. Doom barely reacts.
Maestro slinks back into the shadows, pacing, murmuring something in a voice too low and broken to parse.
He’s talking to himself. Or to the ghosts only he can see.
DOOM watches him like a collector might observe a dangerous artefact — with both reverence and dispassion.
He lifts a small panel. Presses a button.
A compartment opens beside the chamber — mechanical arms lower a grotesque slab of meat. Something alien. Raw. Wet.
The scent hits Maestro like a signal. He snarls. Charges.
The creature devours without ceremony. Ripping, shredding, dripping blood across the floor.

BLACK PANTHER
You really think he’ll follow orders?

DOOM
We don’t need to control him.
We just need him pointed in the right direction.

They both turn and leave the chamber without looking back.
Behind them, the beast snarls again — satisfied, for now.
But in the dim, pulsing green light…Maestro Hulk watches them go.And smiles.

FADE OUT.

INT. ABANDONED S.H.I.E.L.D. FACILITY — NIGHT

The building stands hollow, stripped of purpose. Its walls, once humming with the quiet order of security and protocol, are now stained with rust and echo only the wind. What remains of S.H.I.E.L.D. lies in scattered documents, broken surveillance screens, and distant footfalls that sound like ghosts.

Somewhere deep inside, STEVE ROGERS walks alone.
Not the Steve we once knew.

His shield hangs from his back, dulled and scratched. His uniform is darkened, repurposed — the eagle faded, the star smeared. He doesn’t walk with the confidence of a leader, but the aimless tension of someone carrying a splinter in his soul. His footsteps are slow, erratic. He is wandering, not searching.

Along the corridor walls, flickering monitors replay moments he wishes he could forget:

The 2012 version of himself getting knocked unconscious by a man who looked exactly like him. The staff being stolen.
The mission failed — not by Hydra, but by himself.
He’s watched it a hundred times now. And still, every time, he clenches his fists.

This isn’t just a place of memory. It’s a tomb.
And he’s burying the last pieces of the Captain America who still believed in something.

Then — a sound. Not loud, but deliberate.
STEVE turns.

From the darkness, DOOM steps forward.
No Iron Man suit, no repulsors — just the presence of inevitability. Cloaked. Calm. His mask off. His expression unreadable.
He doesn’t startle Steve. In fact, Steve looks relieved. As if he’s been waiting for someone to show up and tell him he wasn’t crazy after all.

DOOM doesn’t need to say anything. The damage is already done.
This meeting is not persuasion — it’s confirmation.
Doom has been whispering into Steve’s life from behind the curtain for a long time now.
And Steve has been listening.

What we see in Steve now is no longer defiance.
It’s clarity — twisted, but solid.
The kind of clarity that makes dangerous men.

STEVE doesn’t call him Tony.
He doesn’t even ask if any of this is real.
He just nods once, slowly.

Like a soldier finally receiving orders he’s been rehearsing in his dreams.
Doom steps beside him.
Together, they walk deeper into the building.
Into shadow.
Into silence.
Into purpose.

And in that moment, for the first time in the film, we understand:

Steve Rogers is gone.
Hydra Cap has been born.

FADE OUT.

INT. ILLUMINATI CHAMBER — NIGHT

A deep, circular war room. Stark metal. Faint candlelight. Silent echoes.
One by one, the members enter.

STRANGE — now adorned in darker mystic robes.
BLACK PANTHER — silent, his Vibranium staff planted beside him.
MAESTRO — restrained, breathing heavily.
HYDRA CAP — arms crossed. Ready.
DOOM — steps into the circle, placing a magically glowing Vibranium orb at the centre.

Stylised floating text names them as they sit.
Comic book framing.
Finality.

DOOM
There is no vote.
There is no democracy.
There is only necessity.
Only Doom.

STRANGE
Literal doom, apparently.

They exchange glances.

BLACK PANTHER
We all saw what happened.

HYDRA CAP
Yes. They ruined our world.

DOOM
Now its our turn to act. We will build a new world. One that cannot be ruined.

The table glows. A holographic schematic rises — the seed of the machine.
One faded piece turns green as Doom gestures to the glowing orb on the table.

DOOM (CONT'D)
Soon we will have what we need. Thanks to you.
Feel proud of what we are about to achieve.
Take pleasure in aligning with Doom.


A chilling silence hangs in the air.

FADE OUT.

(DOOM’S EARTH) — STRANGE & PANTHER’S PLAN BEGINS
Muted green tint. Faint static hums. The world outside still broken.

INT. SANCTUM FRAGMENT — UNDERGROUND VAULT — NIGHT

Dust spirals in the air.
STRANGE stands in a partially collapsed sanctum cellar, lit by rune-bound candles.
BLACK PANTHER joins him.
A makeshift chalkboard is filled with sigils, timelines, and looping arrows.

STRANGE
There’s a window. 2023.
The Hulk snap.
Energy pulse big enough to leave a scar across timelines.

BLACK PANTHER
And?

STRANGE
And I think Doom is building something to reach it.

They stare at the schematics. A fusion of tech and sorcery — barely understood.

BLACK PANTHER
What if we are wrong—

STRANGE
We die. Or worse, Everything loops again and I have to hear you ask that question another ten thousand times.

Panther stands stoic. Silent agreement.

MONTAGE — THE RISE OF DOOM-TONY

The world had fallen. But Doom-Tony rose.
What began as whispers around broken campfires quickly became gospel. A cloaked figure, not quite Iron Man, not quite anything the people knew — appearing in shattered cities, saving the unsavable. His arrival was always timed, always precise. Buildings caught in mid-collapse, energy blasts intercepted by last-second shields of light and steel. He didn’t speak much. But when he did, it was with purpose.

To the public, he was a guardian. A man returned from the ashes of legends.
But behind the curtain, he was something far more complex — and far more dangerous.

In the remnants of an abandoned Stark satellite lab, Doom-Tony worked tirelessly. The old Iron Man tech still recognised him, even if he no longer recognised himself. Around him, spell runes flickered on screens and walls. Pieces of Wakandan Vibranium hummed inside glass tubes. At the heart of the lab: the machine.
It pulsed softly, a rhythmic heartbeat in metal and light. Part reactor, part shrine.

In the early days, Strange lingered near him, always with a reason to “check on progress.” But Doom noticed. Strange was studying, not supervising. He was watching the machine like it might whisper something back.
In those moments, their friendship remained intact. They still traded theories, argued over structure. But something had shifted. Doom no longer saw Strange as an equal. He had grown beyond needing consensus.

Elsewhere, Panther played a subtler role. Diplomatic, methodical, he redirected shipments of Vibranium under the guise of infrastructure repair. He knew better. Doom had no interest in rebuilding. He was building forward.

And the people believed.

Every skirmish Maestro Hulk ended with thunderous finality. Every act of violence Hydra Cap committed was cloaked in order. But it was Doom-Tony who made it all feel justified. He didn’t demand loyalty. He created necessity.

In his private moments, he dream-walked. Sat motionless in the circle of the machine, his body suspended between timelines. He saw versions of himself — older, crueler, wiser. And he saw himself winning. Every time.

When he opened his eyes, they weren’t just glowing.
They were certain.

FADE OUT.

INT. HOLLOWED LIBRARY — NIGHT

The Sanctum is long gone — just bones now. But deep beneath its ruins, a hollowed-out library still survives. A vaulted chamber of cracked stone, half-lit by candlelight and glowing sigils. Dust drifts slowly through the air, disturbed only by the shuffle of a long cloak.

STRANGE stands alone, flipping through ancient texts. These aren’t books. They’re warnings. They whisper to him now. One page smoulders slightly as he turns it. He doesn’t notice. Or doesn’t care.
He senses someone enter behind him. It’s BLACK PANTHER.

Panther says nothing. He watches Strange, assessing the man — and the burden he carries.
Strange doesn’t look up.
The silence between them is not hostile. It’s strategic. This is a meeting between minds — not friends, not yet allies. But both know something has shifted.

Doom is no longer just building something. He’s becoming something. And that… is the problem.

Without ever saying it aloud, Strange and Panther both know they’ve moved from “helpers” to “obstacles.”
Doom isn’t asking for advice anymore. He’s already written the ending.
Strange pulls out a folded map — not of places, but of moments. Each point a scar across time.
Panther sees one labelled: “2023 — The Hulk Snap.”

STRANGE marks it. Not with ink, but with a living thread of energy he pulls from a relic.
No one speaks.
They don’t need to.
They are going to find Tony Stark.
They don’t know what he can do. Or if he can help — maybe just pure wishful hope.

Strange closes the book with a snap.
Panther sheathes his blade.
They leave together — like shadows slipping through cracks in fate.

INT. SECRET CHAMBER — LATER THAT NIGHT

Below even the ruins of the library is a hidden chamber, never meant to be found. A place where spells are written with blood and time bends just slightly wrong.
This is where they begin to build the plan.

The table here is etched with ancient Wakandan geometry — vibrating gently beneath a field of holographic light. Atop it: a convergence map. Points and threads. Pulses and echoes. The chaos of multiversal collision, sketched like jazz.

Strange hovers a hand over one point. Panther adjusts a dial. They are synchronizing doom’s machine — not to fuel it, but to mimic its signal. They will borrow from it. Just long enough to pull Stark from his moment in 2023.
Not to stop him.
Just to show him.

Strange says it aloud, finally. The fear they’ve been avoiding.
If they bring him here… there’s no guarantee he’ll want to help.

Panther says nothing. Just tightens the grip on his gauntlet.

They both know — that Tony still has to die.
But survival isn’t the point anymore.
Truth is.

And stopping Doom — their Doom — might mean give truth one last chance.

FADE OUT.

MATCH CUT TO:

EXT. CITY SKYLINE — DUSK

DOOM stands on a tower, looking out at his Earth — broken but bowed.
His cloak flaps like a monarch.

DOOM (V.O.) -
All stories end.
But not all endings are final.
Doom will create a new beginning.
The universe will bow down at the feet of Doom.

ACT II — THE ASCENT OF DOOM

INT. (DOOM’S EARTH) — THE MACHINE

Green tint. Low hum. Somewhere between heartbeat and reactor pulse.
A cavernous chamber beneath the earth — mystic sigils carved into stone, pulsating with faint light. At the centre, the MACHINE.
It looks grown, not built. Magic twisted around circuitry. Stark meets Strange.

DOOM-TONY, cloaked, faceplate raised, is working alone now. Slower, methodical.

The others enter:
STRANGE, robes dimmer, exhausted from dream-walking.
BLACK PANTHER, carrying the final vibranium core.

They approach, cautious.

STRANGE
You work alone now?

DOOM(quietly)
Because not all steps can be shared.

He takes the vibranium. Doesn’t thank Panther. Just sets it into the machine.

BLACK PANTHER
What does it do?

DOOM
It remembers.

STRANGE
The snap?

DOOM
The pulse.
The moment that everything came undone. I’m anchoring my consciousness to it.

STRANGE looks wary. Panther silent.

BLACK PANTHER
And if something goes wrong?

DOOM
Then the world ends. Again.

He turns to both men. Offers no warmth — just calculation.

DOOM (CONT’D)
Your work here is done. I will remain here. But my intent… will move forward.

STRANGE
You don’t trust me enough to teach me the spell?

DOOM
It’s not about trust, Doctor.
It’s about truth. And the truth belongs to me.

STRANGE and PANTHER exchange a glance.
Doom places his hand on the core console. The machine begins to awaken.

DOOM (CONT’D)
Cap and Maestro will guard my machine.
You two — you’re free to rest now.

They don’t respond.
The spell begins — runes light up around the chamber.

DOOM’s eyes flutter. He mutters incantations under breath. The machine starts absorbing him — not physically, but piece by piece.
His voice is now layered — echoes of both Tony and something else.
A flicker — a moment of hesitation. A hint of “old Tony” looking at STRANGE.

DOOM-TONY (FALTERING)
Tell Pepper—

A surge cuts him off. The machine tightens its grip. His body goes rigid.
He is suspended.
His consciousness no longer here.

STRANGE steps back, shaken.
PANTHER lowers his head.

STRANGE
He’s gone.

BLACK PANTHER
No. He’s becoming.

FADE OUT.

INT. (FF’S EARTH) — DOOM’S TURN

Victor Von Doom, in the Fantastic Four’s universe, has risen to prominence.
At this point, he’s not a villain — not yet.
He’s brilliant, controlled, admired. A former rival to Reed Richards, but now an uneasy ally.
With incursions destabilising their world, Victor has offered his help.
It is Reed’s idea to build a ship that can traverse multiversal barriers.
He believes the key to fixing the incursion problem is not to stop universes from colliding — but to go out and get ahead of the problem.
Victor agrees.

He convinces Reed they should test the prototype alone.
“No need to risk the family,” he says.
“Let’s make the first step ourselves.
Reed agrees.
They leave the family behind.

And that is when Victor’s shift begins.
Somewhere between universes, mid-jump, Victor’s behavior starts to change. He begins speaking cryptically.
Less like the rational man Reed knows — more like a man on the grips of losing sanity.

He references events Reed has never heard of. “You once told me incursions were maps, not mistakes,” he mutters.
Reed has never said that.

What Reed doesn’t know is that Victor is no longer alone in his own mind. The suspended consciousness of Tony-Doom — still locked inside the machine on Doom’s Earth — has begun to bleed into this Victor.
The two are aligning. The loop has begun.

Victor hijacks the controls. Reed resists — but it’s too late. The ship reroutes. They are no longer headed to a neutral sector. They are heading straight for Doom’s Earth.

Victor-Doom knocks Reed unconscious.

Upon arrival, Victor exits alone.
He walks a war-torn version of Earth like he’s been here before.
Because in a way, he is.

He finds HYDRA CAP and MAESTRO HULK — stationed near the machine chamber, guarding what remains of Tony-Doom’s body.
They recognise him. They kneel, not out of loyalty, but inevitability.

Victor-Doom is now fully possessed.
The consciousness transfer has worked.
The Victor from the FF’s Earth is gone.

He barely looks at the body in the machine.
He gives one order: “We go to the Loom.”

The Fantastic Four’s ship — with Doom, Hydra Cap and Maestro aboard — tears into the sky. The Earth is left behind. So is Reed Richards.

INT. (DOOM’S EARTH) — THE LAST PLAN

Dust swirls in the aftermath of Doom’s departure.
The machine chamber now stands silent — alive only in the way dormant volcanoes live.
Reed Richards blinks back to consciousness.
Disoriented, bruised, alone.
The console behind him still hums faintly — a fading trace of the presence that just left.

STRANGE and BLACK PANTHER enter, having tracked the ship’s trajectory too late to stop it. They stare at the now-empty dock, at the shimmer of cosmic residue still hanging in the air. Panther sees Reed first — lifts him to his feet.

REED
He’s gone.
That wasn’t Victor.
That wasn’t anyone I know.

STRANGE
That was Doom.

The name hangs, suddenly heavy with new weight.
Panther glances to the machine.

BLACK PANTHER
What do we do with this thing? I don't even fully understand what it is.

STRANGE
A prison. A bridge. A mind trap. I don’t know. Only Doom knows.

Reed limps forward. Looks closely.
The design is unmistakably Stark — but laced with something ancient, something arcane.

REED
This isn’t just tech.
He combined it.
He found a way to cheat the structure of the multiverse itself.

Panther places a hand on the machine. The metal is still warm.

BLACK PANTHER
So what now?

STRANGE
We find him and bring him here.

He means Tony. The one that started it all.
Not the Doom inside the machine.
But the man who never meant to become a god.

STRANGE (CONT’D)
The sacred version. 2023.
Just before the Snap. That’s the moment this all fractals from.

REED
You’re saying we… steal Tony Stark?

STRANGE
No. We borrow him.

Strange’s magic creates timelines in the sky.
He gestures to the Sacred Timeline.
He draws a thread across timelines.
Connects their timeline to the point in the Sacred Timeline: 2023 Hulk Snap.

BLACK PANTHER
He’s not going to help us.

STRANGE
He doesn’t have to. He just has to see it.

Reed kneels beside a terminal, half listening. Starts recalibrating what Doom built — aligning it toward extraction, not insertion.

REED
If we do this… it could break the loop. Or make it permanent.

STRANGE
Time isn’t asking for permission anymore. It’s just reacting.

They all pause. No music. Just the quiet thrum of possibility.

BLACK PANTHER
Then we move now.
Before he creates something that can’t be undone.

MATCH CUT TO:
The machine activating.
The amber light intensifying.
Somewhere, a branch of fate snaps.
Somewhere else, Doctor Doom opens his eyes — in a place he’s never seen.

INT. (SACRED EARTH 2012) — AVENGERS FACILITY — DAY

The sky splits open.
Thanos’s warship fires without mercy—one devastating arc of missiles raining down upon the Avengers facility.
The building implodes in a wash of flame, concrete, and silence.
Moments later: darkness.
Under the wreckage, a dim flicker of repulsor light.

TONY STARK groans. Half-buried in debris, ribs shattered, suit fractured. Blood pools where armour used to be. He blinks hard, disoriented. Alarms blare somewhere far away.He hears nothing clearly—just the pulsing echo of pain and falling dust.

He tries to move. His HUD sparks and dies. Static crawls across his vision.
Then, everything stops.
Time folds.

The air thickens like honey. Light bends around him. The sound collapses into a low, vibrating hum.
And without warning, he’s not there anymore.

INT. (DOOM’S EARTH) — ABANDONED SANCTUM CHAMBER

Tony falls—mind first, not feet first.
Like the universe rearranged his coordinates and forgot to carry the one.
He hits the cold stone floor with a jolt. His body rolls, battered. He gasps, claws at the ground, still in combat mode.
But this is not the battlefield.
It’s silent. Still. Green-tinted shadows cast runes across the walls.

STRANGE steps forward. His robes darker, face more weathered than the one Tony knows. Not a master. A man worn down by consequence.
Tony coughs. Looks up.
For a second, confusion.
Then: recognition.
Not just of Strange—but of this Strange. Something in the way he stands. The silence. Tony has been through this conversation before, even if we haven’t seen it.
He gives a half-smirk, bleeding slightly from the mouth.

TONY
Of course it’s you.

STRANGE doesn’t answer.
Doesn’t need to.
They both know this is a borrowed moment.

Tony looks around at the ruins, the strange glow of the machine behind them, the worn symbols etched into stone.
He puts it together quickly.
He always does.

TONY (quietly)
Let me guess. Some kind of cosmic disaster, multiversal chess, and I’m the only pawn left on the board?

Strange hesitates.

STRANGE
We need you to see something.

Tony nods. No protest. No dramatic resistance.
He’s tired.
He has saved the world countless times. He’ll do it again if he has to.
But deep down, we see it in his eyes—he knows he’s not coming back untouched.

FADE OUT.

INT. (DOOM’S EARTH) — STARK’S OBSERVATION

Tony stands, finally steady.
The sanctum chamber around him is eerily quiet — too quiet for a world so shattered. It’s the kind of silence that knows it’s being watched.
Doctor Strange leads him through what remains of this timeline — fractured temples, cities clinging to survival, remnants of a war no one won. Black Panther joins them in silent steps, nodding with the same kind of weight Tony knows too well: the burden of having seen too much.

They show him the machine — what it does. What it’s connected to.
What’s inside it.
He stares at it. At himself.
Or what used to be himself.

He sees the snap as a tether, a pivot point in the multiverse. He sees that he is both the cause and the consequence. He sees Doom.
He watches old battles play out on holographic feeds. Strange shows him the moment Victor-Doom left Earth.
Shows him the ripple Doom’s departure caused.
Shows him the dying timeline.
But Tony only watches. Silently. Absorbing.

Until:

TONY
You brought me here to stop this?

STRANGE doesn’t answer.

TONY (CONT’D)
But I can’t. You know I can’t.

Strange looks at him, searching.
Tony gestures, then continues.

TONY (CONT’D)
I already told you this, didn’t I?

There’s a flicker — not of magic, but of recognition.
Tony has done this before. Not in this version, not this sequence, but… somewhere. That’s what makes him so dangerous. He’s beginning to understand the pattern.
And he’s not going to break it.

TONY (CONT’D)
Strange, you want to break a loop by pulling from inside the loop.
But it’s me who snaps. And if I’m not there, the world ends.

BLACK PANTHER
This world will end without you.

TONY
Then it’s one - one. I already saved one world. I don’t get to keep saving everyone.

Tony turns toward the portal device. Already activating. The timing is too perfect.
He glances back at Strange. There’s no anger. No fear.
Only finality.

TONY (CONT’D)
You didn’t fail. You’re just not in the winning timeline.
I am not saying I won’t try if there is another way.
But right now, I need to complete my loop before I can help yours.
Strange, you know this.

STRANGE sighs, turns away, half in anger, half in resignation. More at himself than Tony.

TONY (CONT’D)
Don’t blame yourself, Stephen.
(Looking at the body of Doom in the machine)
Apparently even the best of us fail in some of these timelines.

And with that, Tony walks into the light.
Back toward Endgame.
Back toward the battlefield.
Back toward his death.

FADE TO WHITE.

EXT. Dusty Avengers Facility (SACRED EARTH) - 2030 — NIGHT

Doom and his Illuminati enter the Sacred Earth at the Present Moment of the Multiverse. Things on the Sacred Earth have been quiet. The heroes have grown old, soft and retired.


The sky roars with cosmic static. Lightning flashes across the skyline of Sacred Earth. The world doesn’t know why.
We join Sacred Earth as it braces for Doom’s final act.
We are in the Sacred Timeline, several years after the events of Avengers: Endgame.
In a courtyard fractured from old foundations, the remaining heroes stand ready:
Professor Hulk, She-Hulk, Red Hulk, Thor, Bucky, and Sentry, defiant.

They are the last heroes of Sacred Earth—an improbable line against the rising darkness.
Maestro Hulk remains behind thick steel and rune-glassed enclosure. His breath is slow, deliberate. Stone pillars bear the impact of his weight even in restraint. He’s a wounded god—or perhaps, a god waiting to awaken.

God Loki has joined the heroes. No longer a watcher. No longer seated at the end of time. He is here, now, because he knows what Doctor Doom is coming to do.

Loki’s illusions flicker across the battlefield, cold and futile. These heroes stand proud, but beneath the bravado is only a spark of resistance.

Then something shifts.

A panel beside Maestro shatters like prophecy. Glass sprays into the dim air.
Doom arrives, cloaked in silence. Hydra Cap stands at his flank, cold-eyed. Maestro Hulk steps forward, no longer restrained.

DOOM (low, commanding)
Hulk…
(beat)
Smash.

Maestro moves. Every step shatters stone. He towers forward, pure force incarnate.
The resistance breaks.
First blow: Professor Hulk charges—confident, brimming with strength borrowed too late.
Maestro counters with a rib-shattering strike that sends him flying into rubble.
She-Hulk bellows, rushing.
Maestro swats her aside like a toy.
Red Hulk swings.
Maestro catches his arm mid-swing—SNAP.
Then comes Sentry. Light incarnate. With the darkness of the Void.
Maestro doesn’t hesitate, he is darker than the darkness of the Void.
A single galaxy-shuddering punch crushes him to the ground.
Sentry gasps. The embodiment of hope—broken.

Only Thor remains now, lightning raging. Loki stands beside him, summoning power.
The two brothers fight together—an echo of old glory.
They strike with fury, coordination, desperation.
But Maestro endures.
Then he counters with a thunderous clap.
Thor crumples.

Loki staggers— and Maestro grabs him mid-step, slamming him against stone.
A perfect mirror of the 2012 Avengers defeat.

The battlefield goes quiet.
Smoke drifts through ruins.
Bodies lie broken, but breathing.

Hydra Cap steps forward, blade drawn. But there’s no fight left.
He surveys the destruction, then glances at the beast, sitting in the glee of his destruction.

HYDRA CAP
And what of the monster?

DOOM (calmly)
He seems to have found his passion.

Below, Maestro Hulk sits amid rubble—satisfied. Like a dragon atop treasure.
Not angry. Just… content.
Doom turns away. So does Cap.
The resistance is broken.
Doom’s magic begins to surround them.

(Doom Cont’d)
The TVA is not a location.
Not in the traditional sense.
But it can be accessed from anywhere, with the right tether.
And our friend Loki coming to help his brother, gave us the tether we need.

We see fractured shards of the location adjusting and forming.
Like a Sorcerer’s Mirror Realm.
Except, Doom is overlaying the Sacred Earth with the TVA.
Pulling the TVA into this location.

And in front of them, the Time Loom manifests. The machine holding all timelines together.
It is pulsing with the power of the Multiverse.
Doom lifts his hand, calling forth spells, disengaging locks and arcane defences.
Piece by piece, he begins to unravel the Loom.

(DOOM CONT’D)
There are no more rescuers.
Only inevitability.
Only Doom.

FADE OUT.

(BACK TO DOOM’S EARTH)

The chamber is silent now — too silent.
The machine that once held Doom hums faintly. Consciously vacant. Holding nothing but the lifeless remains of this world's most tragic victim.

STRANGE stands staring into it, eyes sunken, the weight of failure pressing into his spine. BLACK PANTHER stands nearby, arms crossed, unreadable.

STRANGE (low)
Maybe we were wrong.
Maybe we… wait.
Maybe we offer surrender.
(a beat)
Doom might spare us — just long enough for a second chance.

BLACK PANTHER
There is no second chance, Strange. Not this time. Not for us.
They fall into silence again.

The kind of silence that comes before giving up.

Then:
REED RICHARDS (O.S.)
He left the body behind.

They both turn.

Reed limps forward, eyes locked on the now-empty core.

REED
His body is still the focal point of this whole time loop. I have been calculating the various ways he is tethering to points in time, and I have no real idea how he does it - quite genius in fact and will need years of careful study back on my Earth. -


STRANGE
Your point is what, exactly?
REED
He transferred his mind. But his body is still here. Still tethered.

STRANGE
You think we can snap the link? Untether the sunnavabich.

REED
No, not cut it. Follow it. I can reach it. Track the signal.
I can rebuild the universe ship, I have everything I need here.
I have been looking over this machine - that’s just a pale imitation of the one I built a few years ago — Besides the consciousness transfer - that is a very impressive design feature.

Travel is the easy part.
I can modify the existing system… we can follow him. Wherever he is.

BLACK PANTHER
To what end? That’s not your friend. That’s not our… friend. He’s some kind of a god now.

REED
He’s not my friend.
And he is not a god.
He’s still using my tech to do this whole magic show.
(beat)
I have enough safeguards in my designs to neutralise him.
Once we get to him.

STRANGE
Time is of the essence. We are nearing the Tony Snap.

PANTHER
Then what are we waiting for?

REED
I may be smart, but I am about as good as an elastic band in a fist fight against this guy unless you can neutralise his magic.

STRANGE
I am starting to figure out who I was meant to be. Leave the magic to me.

PANTHER
And leave the monster to me.

They exchange a final glance — no bravado, no speeches.
Just determination.

Hopefully music swells as Reed gets to work.
The machine groans as Reed begins realigning the matrix.
Panels flicker.
Coordinates blur.

A surge of light erupts from the device.

The last resistance, hurtling into the unknown.


FADE OUT.

INT. SACRED EARTH — TVA LOOM BATTLEGROUND

The sky — fractured like glass. Time itself bleeds down in strands of gold and static.
Sacred Earth is no longer itself. The TVA has been folded into its fabric — a surreal mirror realm of fractured geometry, flickering clocks, and suspended cause-and-effect. Reality pulses with Doom’s presence.

Amid the destruction, the battlefield lies smoldering.

DOOM stands at the base of the TIME LOOM, his cloak flowing like smoke, already weaving incantations into the machinery.

Magic meets metal. He is almost ready.
Beside him: HYDRA CAP and MAESTRO HULK, bloodied, standing tall.
Around them: the bodies of fallen heroes.

And then — the sky ripples.
A portal slashes open with white-hot energy.

STRANGE, BLACK PANTHER, and REED RICHARDS emerge.
Reed hits the ground running, scanning the Loom with his modified tech.

Panther draws blades. Strange’s hands glow — not with the elegance of a Sorcerer Supreme, but with raw, desperate power.
They’re not alone.
From behind, a crack of thunder.

THOR, with renewed strength, streaks down with lightning in both hands, rallying what’s left of the resistance — Bucky, battered but alive. Even Loki, wounded, still standing.
The final line reforms.
And the battle erupts again.

Strange and Bucky vs. Hydra Cap — spell and metal against shield, precision versus brutality.
Panther and Thor vs. Maestro Hulk — Vibranium claw and Stormbreaker versus cosmic brute force.
Reed weaves between them, dodging debris, manipulating tech, trying to disrupt the control nodes Doom has anchored into the ground.
They fight like there is no second chance — because there isn’t.

Maestro slams Panther into a wall—only for Thor to catch him with a lightning blast that throws him into a time rift crackling with stray timelines. For a moment, he vanishes.
Hydra Cap pins Strange, but Loki intervenes—creating enough of a distraction for Strange to reverse the grip, binding Cap in mystic chains that flicker like unstable decisions. Bucky slams his fist into the jaw of Hydra Cap.

The tide shifts.
The lieutenants fall back. Maestro crawls from the rift—disoriented, snarling. But slower now. Wounded. Controlled.

BLACK PANTHER (urgent, to Reed)
Can you reach him?

REED
Almost there!

Then: a shimmer in the air.
The final defenders push forward—Loki’s illusions disorienting, Thor hammering through rubble. Thor and Bucky corner Cap. Maestro stumbles, too slow to stop them.
And for a single breath — hope.

REED
(almost screaming)
We can break the circuit!
I can cut his connection to the Loom!

They turn to Doom—
But he’s already at the top of the platform, hand raised.
The Time Loom glows like a dying star.

His voice, calm. Measured.
Final.
His fist held high in the air.

DOOM
I am…

A blinding white flash.

CUT TO:

(RETURN TO SACRED EARTH — 2023 — ENDGAME BATTLE)

Darkness.
A flicker of light. Debris. Smoke. The aftershock of Thanos’s bombardment still trembles in the bones of the Avengers facility.
From under collapsed steel and concrete, STEVE ROGERS stirs. Blood at his temple. A sharp inhale.
A soft groan behind him.

TONY STARK pulls himself upright, armor cracked, left gauntlet barely sparking.
He blinks hard, adjusting to where — and when — he is.
He looks down at his hands.
The repulsors are still warm.
It worked.
He’s back.

STEVE(grimacing)
What happened?

Tony steadies himself. His eyes scan the wreckage — the memory of what he just saw on Doom’s Earth flickering behind his gaze like an echo he can’t shake.

He doesn’t answer immediately.
Just looks at Steve with a kind of tired recognition.
A man who has walked three lifetimes in the space of a blink.

TONY(quietly)
If you mess with time…
(he pauses, breath catching — a cruel smile across his face)…
it tends to mess back.
(beat)
You’ll see.

He offers a hand to Steve, helps him up.
And just like that, the loop is closed.
They are back in the Endgame timeline. But Tony Stark is not the man who fell under that rubble.
He remembers more than he should. He’s seen more than anyone was ever meant to.
He dusts himself off. Tightens the gauntlet around his wrist.
A rumble in the distance — the call to battle.


EXT. RUINED AVENGERS COMPOUND — CONTINUOUS

The heroes gather. Thor, bloodied but still storm-eyed. Cap, resolute. Tony, walking into the light like a man chasing fate.
They stand at the edge of what remains.

Across the battlefield: Thanos and his army.
The war begins.
Again.
And from this point forward, the story plays out as we know it.
Cap lifts Mjölnir.
Thor summons thunder.
Tony fights like a man who already knows the ending.
Because he does.
Each blow, each dodge, each glance to Strange — they all mean more now. They’re weighted with the knowledge of universes, of what Doom becomes, of what happens if he fails.
But he keeps going.

Until…


EXT. BATTLEFIELD — LATER

Thanos stands, gauntlet in hand, ready to erase it all.
Tony sees it.
Redirects his Nano-tech.
One shot.
He makes his move.

And for one last moment, time itself seems to hold its breath.
His armour glows.
His eyes, still human.
He lifts his head.
Looks at Thanos.
At the army.
The Infinity Stones are in the hand of Tony Stark - our Tony.

And then, softly—
A world-ending pause.
A beat that stretches.
As if the universe might hold its breath.Tony recognising everything he has and will become.

And then—

TONY
I am…

CUT TO BLACK.
DOOMSDAY.