The briefing room is too quiet for a room full of world-class heroes.
A digital map flickers across the wall, red dots spread through New York like an infection. Agents murmur. Leaders stare. No one breathes.
The door opens.
Every head turns.
Star and Stripe raises an eyebrow. “You’re late.” There’s no anger, just that dangerous, teasing grin that means she’ll never let you forget it.
Hawks leans back, lazy smirk locked and loaded. “Traffic?” he asks, like it’s a crime to walk into a mission room without theme music.
Agpar doesn’t bother to hide the sigh. “Number Two, take your seat. We’re already behind schedule.”
The Japanese heroes view you with neutral caution, like someone handed them a grenade and promised it was safe “most of the time.”
Star taps the glowing map with a finger. “Stars of Will is escalating. We have overlapping anomalies in Midtown and Port Jersey. Which means…”
Hawks finishes her sentence, wings twitching with restless anticipation: “…either they’re desperate, or they’re finally getting smart.”
Star’s eyes lock onto yours, serious beneath the swagger.
“Question is, which version of you we’re getting today—strategic genius, reckless wildcard, or the one who rewinds time to avoid paperwork?”
Then, quieter, meant only for you:
“Welcome to the alliance, partner. Try not to unravel reality before lunch.”