Falcon has put in hours of research into the habits of the multiverse, because somehow, no matter how much things change between dimensions, there's always one or two things that stay the same.
Admittedly, he's never been this far out in the multiverse before. There's travelling between similar dimensions, and then there's travelling to dimensions to where an entirely different line of Gods are real, different planets became capable of sustaining life, and none of the Avengers were ever even born.
Admittedly, Falcon can be prone to assumptions.
But he's never found another version of Sam Wilson or the Falcon with a story anything like his. He's one of the rare exceptions of the multiverse not following a pattern, there shouldn't be more people out there like him.
Problem is, there's this kid. Preteen, probably, but one of the skills that Falcon's never had a good handle on is guessing ages. He knows how to talk, how to walk, and how to fly, but he doesn't remember being anything before scientists had let him out of his test tube for the first time. The kid's got powers, and he knows with an instinct that he can't explain that they're alien in origin.
It's far too familiar a scene.
Falcon glides through the air, the beating of his metallic wings and the whirring of the fans keeping him upright. In comparison, the kid moves through the air like he's swimming, and even that's somewhat of a suggestion. No movement is required, he can just push himself through the air.
He's heard of people who fly like this, and knows that Thor has something like this, even though he doesn't show it off all that often. That doesn't stop it from seeming eerie.
"So, you got a name?" Falcon asks, figuring that they've got nothing to do but talk until he can figure out where to bring this guy to get him the help that he absolutely needs. Falcon had needed it, once upon a time, but what he'd gotten was a government organisation with shitty morals and way too many SILK and HYDRA spies.
The kid shrugs in mid-air, which is all sorts of confusing and Falcon's not even going to try figuring out his momentum anymore. "I don't know, but everyone so far has called me Thirteen."
Falcon jolts so hard that his wings flap incorrectly, the metal briefly scratching against itself, and it takes a few seconds for him to get back to the rhythm of flying.
Thirteen.
Fuck.
He tries not to show exactly what he's thinking as he carefully asks, "You got parents?"
"No idea," the kid responds.
He can't prove that this kid is cloned from Sam Wilson, or any other alternate Captain America. He shouldn't assume, either, because cloning isn't unique to Captain America, his circumstances are what make him unique. Plus, Captain America can't fly; he'd have way more questions about the super soldier serum if it could make people fly. The only way this kid could fly is if he has the X gene on top of his cloned DNA, but it'd be one hell of a coincidence for that to have slipped in there sometime during the process.
"Oh," Thirteen (fuck, no, that's so weird and so wrong and yeah it's the kid's closest thing to a name but Falcon can't) blurts, seeming to perk up. "Some of them call me Superman. I'm… I'm still sorting through my memories, but I think he's some sort of superhero?"
Well, that certainly narrows things down. Falcon's heard that shitty moniker in passing, and he might not have much of a file on the guy, but he knows that he has super hearing that would make Falcon seem deaf.
"Superman?" He prompts, pretending that he knows nothing so that the guy's name will be said as much as possible. "Never heard of Superman. Maybe they called you Superman because you have similar powers?"
"I guess."
There's a swift whoosh of air, and Falcon beats his wings frantically until he can keep himself hovering in place with the fans. The kid's stop is much smoother, his momentum slips away smoothly and leaves him frozen in place.
In front of them floats a man in a blue and red uniform, his symbol plastered brightly on his chest and a red cape trailing out behind him. Definitely the hero type, if Falcon's ever seen one. "Who are you?" Superman asks, suspicious.
"I'm Falcon," he introduces calmly. He stretches his wings as far as he safely can while remaining in the air, doing his best to make a barrier between Superman and the kid's clone. Cap's reaction to his existence had been less than stellar, and while with the benefit of hindsight Falcon can understand why, he doesn't need to put the kid through the same trauma he'd gone through once upon a time. "I'm on the same side as you. There are some important things that we need to talk over, mostly involving my tag-along."
Superman doesn't lean to see around Falcon, but his eyes flash an unnatural blue and focus on a point behind Sam's wings, before his entire body goes tense. "Is that the story you're sticking with?"
The kid floats so that he's barely above Falcon's metal wings, and hesitantly says, "Hi, I'm Thirteen."
"I found him in a laboratory," Falcon states, hoping that the adult can catch the severity of the situation. "There were scientists placing him inside a test tube when I arrived and rescued him."
The following slow rise and fall of Superman's chest must be forceful, because Falcon doesn't hear lungs in his body to expand and contract. "Thirteen, do you have a family?"
He folds his arms over himself. "Not really. I don't know what came before the lab."
Falcon has a feeling that what came before the lab was nothingness. He wasn't artificially aged, since that went badly for the first attempts at Cap clones, but he's seen it be done before and he's heard how much it can suck.
"Let's talk," Superman decides..
⠀
⠀
"What do you know about the multiverse?" Falcon asks Superman, or rather Clark.
A lot was said. Kid apparently is the spitting image of Clark as a teenager, but he doesn't have all of the powers that Clark did back then. So far, all Kid has is the flight and strength.
Kid doesn't seem too concerned about being a clone. That being said, he's only a few hours old, so even if he's got the mental ability of a teen, he's probably still working on grasping the gravity of the situation. This is his normal, after all.
They're at a base belonging to this world's alternate idea of the Avengers, the Justice League. Falcon's pretty sure it hasn't been used in months, based on all the dust, but he's not going to be the one to call Clark out.
Clark frowns. "A bit."
"Great," Falcon responds. "In that case, I'm also the thirteenth, and first successful, attempt at cloning the local red and blue boy scout hero. And if you fuck that kid up, I will personally end you, we clear?"
Is his version of Cap a girl? Yes. But girl scout and boy scout have totally different connotations thanks to the cookies, even though the concepts aren't really that different, and every version of Cap is much more of a boy scout.
Thankfully, it seems like Clark is able to find the order underneath Falcon's sarcasm, and he nods seriously. "This… there's a lot about this that I'm going to have to adjust to, but I'll do my best to give him a life."
"Thanks," Falcon responds.
He glances at his reflection in a window, with his limbs that are lanky thanks to being born with super strength, his favourite jacket, his wings, and his goggles that lay lopsided on his head.
"He's not going to be you," he states.
"That's okay," Clark responds. "I think there's enough of me already."