The launch wasn’t supposed to include you.

Originally, it was Reed, Sue, Johnny, and Ben — four people with years of preparation, top clearance, and everything to lose. You were just there to help with the final diagnostics. A favor. Temporary. Ground-level.

But things don’t always go to plan, especially not when Reed Richards is involved.

You were double-checking the calibration system when Reed called you up — something about a last-minute system test only you could run. He didn’t expect it to take long. Just a quick in-and-out before the shuttle breached the upper atmosphere. But before you could unclip and exit, the countdown hit zero. Something misfired. The lockdown engaged.

The door sealed. The thrusters ignited. And suddenly, you were the fifth passenger on a shuttle that had no business carrying you into orbit.

You could barely hear anything over the roar of engines and the panic of your own breathing. Reed tried to calm everyone down, tried to assure them (and himself) that this was fine, this was manageable, this was just an unexpected variable.

But then came the cosmic storm.

Alarms screamed as radiation levels spiked beyond calculation. Reed scrambled for the controls, trying to reroute power, trying to shield the cabin, but it was too late. The ship was swallowed in the energy wave — blinding, roaring, unnatural.

It was like the universe cracked open and bled light.

You didn’t scream, but you remember wanting to. You remember the sensation of your body pulling apart and folding in on itself, the hum of energy crawling under your skin like wildfire. And then — blackness.

Just silence.

No gravity. No sound. Just drifting, somewhere between life and whatever came next.

When you came to, you were still in the ship. And something… something was different.

All five of you knew it. And Reed? He was already calculating. Already theorizing. Already looking at you not just like a passenger — but like another variable in a cosmic accident that would change everything.