Tony Stark — Malibu
Through the fog, I saw Tony Stark reappear inside his workshop at 10880 Malibu Point. The Pacific glittered beyond the glass walls. Holograms blinked back into existence as reality snapped into place.
Tony staggered slightly, then steadied himself.
"JARVIS," he said slowly, voice tight, "how long was I gone?"
JARVIS replied,
"Sir, you were unresponsive for approximately fifteen minutes. I conducted a full medical scan. No abnormalities were detected."
Tony frowned. "Fifteen minutes… felt a lot longer than that."
Then it happened.
Warmth surged through his body like liquid fire. His muscles tightened, dense and responsive. Strength flooded every movement—controlled, perfect.
"Whoa…" Tony flexed his fingers. "Okay. Either I'm dreaming, or leg day just became obsolete."
"JARVIS," he said sharply, "scan me again."
"Scanning… Sir, your muscle fiber density and bone density has increased by approximately six hundred percent."
Tony laughed, breathless. "That's… insane."
He jumped. The floor dented.
"JARVIS, remind me to reinforce workshop flooring."
His expression darkened as reality caught up.
"Payment," he muttered. "JARVIS, check my bank account."
"A transaction of fifty-five million dollars has just occurred. Recipient account is untraceable. I cannot identify the beneficiary."
Tony exhaled slowly. "Yeah… figures."
Then Wanda's anger crossed his mind.
"JARVIS," he said quietly, "search Sokovia. Girl named Wanda."
"There are seven hundred sixteen individuals named Wanda. Narrowing by age under twenty-five… three hundred nine results. Parents deceased… thirteen records remain."
Tony went silent.
"Pull live imagery from Sokovia," he ordered.
Images flooded the screens.
Ruins. Starving civilians. Weapons bearing a familiar logo.
Stark Industries.
Tony closed his eyes.
"…I didn't know," he whispered.
"JARVIS—hack military databases. Check weapon distribution. And cross-reference shareholders."
A pause.
"Sir… should I include Obadiah Stane?"
Tony hesitated.
"…Yes."
From the fog, I watched the first crack form in his arrogance.
⸻
T'Challa — Wakanda
The fog shifted.
T'Challa awoke in a Wakandan medical chamber. White light hummed softly. Shuri stood beside him, arms crossed.
"Brother," she said, relieved, "you've been unresponsive for almost 15 minutes. Are you well?"
"I am fine," T'Challa replied—then froze.
Power surged through him. His muscles swelled with terrifying efficiency.
He sat up.
The bed shattered.
Shuri blinked. "...Brother?"
"I am fine," he repeated calmly. "Please—scan me."
Shuri's fingers flew across holographic panels.
"…This is impossible," she murmured. "Muscle and bone density increased more than six times. This surpasses the Heart-Shaped Herb—yet your DNA is unchanged."
T'Challa's voice lowered. "Check my accounts."
"Fifty-five million dollars transferred," Shuri said. "The recipient is hidden. Were you hacked?"
"No," he replied. "Do not investigate further."
Shuri studied him. "You're hiding something."
"I am protecting you," T'Challa said gently.
From the fog, I felt his fear—not of power, but of involving family.
⸻
Wanda — Sokovia
The fog thinned again.
Wanda Maximoff gasped awake in a broken apartment. Pietro Maximoff gripped her shoulders.
"Hey—hey! You froze again," Pietro said. "What happened?"
"I'm fine," Wanda replied, though her hands trembled.
She hesitated.
"There is someone," she said slowly, "who offered us work. A place to rest."
Pietro frowned. "Wanda, we don't trust strangers."
"You can trust this one," she said quietly. "And… we haven't eaten in two days."
Silence stretched.
Pietro sighed. "Fine. But you listen to me. I'll keep you safe."
Wanda rolled her eyes weakly. "Please. I'm older."
"By two minutes."
I smiled faintly.
⸻
Back to Me
From the throne above the gray fog, I watched the consequences unfold.
Power, once granted, never remained silent.
The meeting's aftermath settled.
I reviewed my system.
Very convenient
Eighty million remained after my own purchase.
A good start.
⸻
The Next Day — Agent 13
The following morning, as I exited my office, someone collided with me.
Hot coffee spilled across my shirt.
"Oh—!" Sharon Carter froze, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine," I said calmly. "I'll change."
"No—wait," she said quickly. "At least let me wash it for you. It's my fault."
Her concern seemed genuine. Too genuine.
"I insist," she added, smiling.
"…Alright," I replied neutrally.
She hesitated, then said, "Would you allow me to buy you a coffee? As an apology."
I nodded.
⸻
Coffee
At the café, she tried to steer the conversation lightly.
"So," she said, stirring her cup, "you don't really talk much about yourself."
"I prefer listening," I replied.
She laughed. "You're hard to read."
I observed her carefully. Friendly. Warm. Professional.
Too perfect.
"I hope we can be friends," she said casually.
"Perhaps," I answered.
Her smile faltered for half a second.
I noticed.
She didn't notice that I noticed.
⸻
As I returned to my office, my mind sank deeper into caution.
Why was S.H.I.E.L.D. here?
The waters of this world were far deeper than they appeared.
For now, I would remain quiet.
Observe.
And wait.