Like every other night, the residents of Avengers Tower had settled into their own routines, each occupied with whatever they usually did to unwind before the next inevitable crisis. The tower itself was unusually peaceful, its quiet halls a rare luxury that never seemed to last for long.
Tony had just finished brewing himself a fresh mug of coffee, fully intending to pull another all-nighter. He had barely taken a step away from the counter when the entire building lurched beneath his feet. The violent tremor jolted his hand, sending hot coffee splashing over the rim of the mug just as every light in the tower abruptly died, plunging the room into darkness.
"An attack?" he muttered instinctively.
The thought had scarcely left his lips when an earth-shaking clap of thunder exploded through the tower. The deafening report reverberated through the walls and steel framework with such overwhelming force that it sounded as though the lightning had struck the building itself.
Elsewhere, Clint Barton was enjoying what he expected to be a quiet end to the evening. One foot was already submerged in a steaming bubble bath while he leisurely lifted the other, savoring the comforting warmth of the water before climbing in completely.
Then the tower shook.
His supporting foot slipped without warning.
The next thing he knew, he was sprawled across the bathroom floor, landing hard on his back—completely naked.
"What the fuck was that?" he groaned, grimacing as he rubbed the sore spot on his side before awkwardly pushing himself back to his feet.
Thor, meanwhile, had only recently returned to the tower and was making his way toward the kitchen in search of a drink when the blast rippled through the building. Habitual instinct took over before conscious thought as his hand shot outward, and within moments Mjölnir streaked through the air and slammed firmly into his palm.
His expression immediately grew serious.
Without hesitation, he lifted his gaze, looking straight through the floors above as though trying to pinpoint the disturbance by instinct alone.
Billy's room was the realized location that came almost immediately.
Elsewhere throughout the tower, however, the others reached a very different conclusion. Given the timing—and the two occupants most commonly associated with overwhelming displays of lightning—the obvious assumption was that Thor and Billy had somehow started sparring indoors again.
That assumption lasted only a few seconds.
As the emergency backup generators rumbled to life, restoring power throughout the tower, the building's internal communication system crackled before broadcasting something that instantly erased every trace of that theory.
A scream.
Raw.
And Agonizing.
The sound of someone crying out in unbearable pain echoed through every speaker in Avengers Tower.
Every head snapped toward the nearest intercom.
Eyes widened.
Pupils constricted.
Then Tony's voice burst through the speakers, urgent and unmistakably alarmed as he informed everyone that something was terribly wrong with the kid.
Fred had immediately attempted to contact JARVIS the moment Billy's condition deteriorated, intending to relay the emergency directly to Tony. Unfortunately, the sudden blackout had knocked the system offline before the message could be transmitted. The instant the backup generators restored power, Fred's AI rapidly recalculated the fastest way to summon help, overriding standard protocols in favor of the quickest possible response, hoping someone nearby could reach Billy before it was too late.
Alarmed by the emergency alert and Tony's urgent announcement over the tower's speakers, the Avengers abandoned whatever they had been doing and rushed toward Billy's room. The first ones to reach his room first carried their own questions and assumptions, but none of them were prepared for the scene that greeted them when they burst through the doorway.
Billy was on the floor.
He writhed violently across the room, both hands clamped over his head as though desperately trying to crush the pain away. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut while agonized screams tore from his throat, each one more painful to hear than the last.
They instinctively rushed toward him, mouths already opening to ask what had happened.
None of them got the chance.
Without warning, the screaming stopped as the frantic rolling ceased.
The twisted expression of unbearable agony vanished almost as suddenly as it had begun.
The room fell into a stunned silence as Natasha reached him first, immediately dropping to her knees beside him. With care, she gently lifted Billy's head onto her lap to keep him stable while Bruce hurried over and began a rapid preliminary examination, checking his breathing, pulse, and pupils for any immediate signs of trauma.
Questions erupted in the room.
"What happened?"
"Was it an attack?"
"Did anyone see anything?"
Their voices overlapped into a chaotic chorus of confusion and concern, each Avenger trying to make sense of what had just unfolded while anxiously checking for signs that Billy was still alive and responsive.
Amid the growing commotion, Tony remained rooted near the doorway.
He didn't move.
He simply stared.
His eyes were wide, his mind racing faster than he could organize his thoughts. Countless possibilities flashed through his head in rapid succession.
'What caused this?'
'Was it magic?'
'Some delayed effect from earlier?'
'Is the kid dying?'
'Do we get him to a hospital... or is Bruce's lab the better option?'
"To my lab. Now."
Bruce's voice cleaved neatly through the confusion, leaving no room for hesitation.
The urgency in his tone immediately snapped everyone back into action.
Without wasting another second, Steve carefully scooped Billy's unconscious body into his arms and turned toward the door at a brisk pace.
Only then did he notice something.
Tony—who had been standing in the doorway only moments earlier—was already gone.
- - -
[Steven Strange's POV]
Of all the eras in Earth's long and turbulent history, the one in which Doctor Strange happened to serve as Sorcerer Supreme just had to be the one burdened with Solomon's foretold catastrophe.
Over the past few days, he had unconsciously begun referring to it as 'Solomon's Great Peril'. If he was destined to spend an untold amount of time preparing for an event that threatened the survival of humanity itself, then it deserved more than the vague title of 'the prophecy'. Constantly referring to it by that name had already begun to grate on him, and giving it a proper designation made it feel less like an abstract warning and more like a crisis he could actively prepare for.
The outcome of his meeting with Billy had admittedly left him disappointed.
After spending considerable effort explaining the prophecy and building the boy's interest in what the crystal orb might contain, breaking Solomon's seal had yielded no immediate answers. At least, none that Billy could recall. It certainly hadn't revealed the detailed warning or clear instructions Strange had hoped for.
Even so, he refused to believe the entire ordeal had amounted to nothing more than an elaborate magical light show.
Something had happened.
He had witnessed the seal react, watched the butterfly emerge, and seen whatever Solomon had left behind pass directly into Billy. Magic of that caliber was never purposeless. Whether it had implanted knowledge, delivered a message, or simply prepared Billy for something yet to come, Strange was convinced its true purpose would reveal itself when the proper moment arrived.
Perhaps it was Solomon's way of reaching across the centuries to aid his chosen successor.
Or perhaps it was something else entirely.
Whatever the truth proved to be, Strange remained convinced the answer would eventually reveal the nature of the evil Solomon had deemed worthy of such extraordinary precautions.
Sitting idle had never suited him.
With no immediate leads remaining, he buried himself in research, allowing his thoughts to circle around a different possibility. Billy's powers were not random manifestations of magic; they were blessings bestowed by divine beings. If Strange could identify precisely which pantheon those gods belonged to, then perhaps their myths, scriptures, or forgotten legends contained references to a Champion of the Gods—one that might explain Billy's role in the prophecy or provide clues about the coming catastrophe.
There was also something Billy still didn't know.
Strange had deliberately withheld a portion of Solomon's prophecy.
The fragment recovered alongside the crystal orb spoke not merely of a champion who wielded thunder, but of one chosen by the gods, blessed with a virtuous heart, and deemed uniquely worthy to stand against the approaching darkness. According to the prophecy, only such a champion possessed any real chance of preventing humanity from falling before the terrible evil destined to plunge Earth into its greatest peril.
Until Strange understood more, he saw little reason to burden Billy with expectations that neither of them fully understood.
Strange had broadened his research considerably. Beyond searching for references to Solomon himself, he began tracing legends tied to titles such as Champion of the gods, Virtuous Warrior, Chosen Champion, and countless other variations that might exist across different mythologies. If Solomon had foreseen such an individual, then there was every possibility that echoes of the same prophecy—or at least the champion it spoke of—had survived in the folklore of other pantheons as well.
Lost in thought, Strange suddenly felt a familiar magical sensation brush against his awareness but itwasn't hostile.
Nor was it powerful enough to demand immediate alarm.
Rather, it resembled the steady pulse of a distant beacon searching for its intended recipient.
He recognized it immediately.
The signal originated from a simple knot of rope that he had previously enchanted with a homing spell. It was an intentionally uncomplicated artifact—easy to carry, difficult to detect, and nearly impossible to misplace. Its purpose was equally straightforward. Whenever its owner used it, the knot released a magical pulse that sought out Strange regardless of where he happened to be, whether on Earth, in another dimension, or deep in the astral realm.
The enchantment was bound directly to him, requiring neither technology nor conventional means of communication.
In many ways, it functioned like an emergency pager.
The recipient of that enchanted knot was Tony.
Strange had entrusted it to him as a direct line of contact should anything unusual happen involving Billy.
Without wasting another second, Strange swept his hand through the air, conjuring a shimmering golden portal. The beacon guided his destination with pinpoint precision, and he stepped through without hesitation.
He emerged inside Avengers Tower.
More specifically...
Bruce's laboratory.
The room was crowded with the others.
Nearly every Avenger had gathered around a medical bed where Billy lay unconscious but otherwise stable. The tense expressions waiting for him told Strange everything he needed to know.
Something had gone wrong.
"What happened?" Strange asked as he strode toward the group, his eyes already shifting to Billy while Tony stepped aside to give him room.
"I honestly don't know," Tony admitted, frustration evident in his voice. "But if I had to guess, I'd say it probably has something to do with whatever happened during your little field trip today."
Strange placed a hand over Billy, allowing streams of golden magic to flow across the teenager's body as he carefully examined him for injuries, lingering enchantments, or signs of magical corruption.
"There was a lightning strike," Clint explained. "Then we heard him screaming through the tower speakers. By the time we reached his room, he was rolling around on the floor clutching his head like he was in unbearable pain. A few seconds later... he just passed out."
"I noticed something while carrying him," With Steve's words, the room fell noticeably quieter.
Even Strange paused his examination long enough to look toward Steve.
To most people, sleep-talking from an unconscious teenager wouldn't have meant much.
Given everything that had transpired earlier that day...
It meant everything.
"What did he say?" Strange asked before anyone else could.
Steve frowned thoughtfully.
"Like I said, I barely caught it. I might've heard it wrong." He paused briefly before continuing. "Thankfully... it was only one word."
Another heavy silence settled over the room.
"Klyntar."
The single word lingered in the air, hanging over everyone like a puzzle none of them immediately recognized. For a brief moment, no one spoke, each person silently searching their memory in hopes that it might ring a bell.
Tony was the first to break the silence.
He glanced around the room before looking back at Steve with a puzzled frown.
"...Is that, like, a Spanish word or something?"
The question earned him nothing but blank looks, making it abundantly clear that no one else had any better idea what Klyntar was supposed to mean.
- - -
With a foggy mind and blurred vision, Billy slowly drifted back to consciousness. His thoughts were sluggish, his surroundings unfamiliar. Blinking several times, he stared at the ceiling above him, realizing almost immediately that this wasn't his room.
'Must be one of those weird dreams again,' he thought drowsily. 'Finding myself asleep in the school science lab isn't the worst one I've had. At least I'm wearing pants this time. Might as well go back to sleep. I'm not about to sit through class and get lectured in my own dream.'
With that conclusion reached, he closed his eyes, fully intending to sleep his way out of the bizarre scenario.
It lasted all of two seconds.
His eyes snapped back open with startling speed, like a broke crackhead who had suddenly remembered exactly where he'd hidden a stash.
Billy shot upright.
Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the bedsheet and ripped it back, his eyes immediately darting toward his lower body.
'Whew…'
He let out a long breath of relief.
'At least I've still got my pajamas on.'
The relief lasted only a heartbeat before reality caught up with him.
This wasn't a dream.
He was awake.
And he definitely wasn't in his room.
"Relax, Ranger."
The familiar voice drew Billy's attention to the far side of the room, where Steve Rogers stood a short distance from the medical bed with his usual calm demeanor.
"You're in Bruce's lab."
'Well... that's certainly a development,' Billy thought as his eyes swept across the room, taking in the advanced medical equipment and unmistakable surroundings.
'No idea how I ended up here... but at least I trust these guys didn't drug me so they could run experiments on me or harvest an organ…'
He paused.
'...Right?'