EXT. DEEP SPACE – THE VOID BETWEEN GALAXIES
A vast, starless stretch of space. Silent. Eternal.
No planets.
No suns.
Just blackness.
Then — a flicker.
A single pulse of golden lightripples through the dark — faint but precise. Like a thread being plucked across dimensions.
It moves across systems, invisible to most.
But not to all.
EXT. UNKNOWN COSMIC REALM – EDGE OF REALITY
We enter a celestial stronghold — suspended in the folds of spacetime itself.
Everything is impossible geometry: shifting stairs, hovering monoliths, rivers of light flowing upward.
Floating at its center is a figure — shrouded in a cloak of black and blue, face obscured beneath a helm that reflects stars.
This is KANG.
Or at least… a version of him.
Around him, timelines spiral in suspended streams — some broken, some fading, some locked in endless loops.
He opens his eyes.
A HUD-like construct appears in front of him — displaying patterns of multiversal resonance.
A golden pulse surges across it.
He speaks.
KANG (low, calm):
"A ripple."
He studies the signal as it echoes through the web of possible futures.
"Not from this timeline."
He waves his hand.
A ghostly image of Franklin Richards appears — fuzzy, imprecise, like a child drawn in starlight.
The moment Franklin interacted with the drone replays, again and again.
Kang leans forward.
KANG (softly):
"So… the child awakens."
He closes his fist.
The projection collapses into light.
But he doesn't look angry.
He looks… interested.
KANG:
"One who bends power without knowing.
One not bound by this thread of time."
He rises from his throne, the entire realm shifting with his movement.
KANG (quietly):
"And he's being raised… by Stark."
He turns.
An enormous circular portal opens behind him — stars swirling at its edges.
KANG:
"Then time itself will intervene."
He vanishes.
The stars pulse once more.
EXT. THE EDGE OF THE UNIVERSE – COSMIC OBSERVATORY – TIMELESS
A place beyond stars.
Beyond thought.
Here, in the silence between multiverses, floats a great and ancient structure: The Watchtower, a colossal ring orbiting a dying star that glows with eternal light.
Standing at its heart, motionless and solitary, is THE WATCHER.
UATU.
A being of immense size, cloaked in flowing blue and white, his solemn eyes vast and ancient — reflecting the whole of time itself.
He gazes across the fabric of space, where ghostly visions of countless Earths flicker like holograms: wars, peace, deaths, miracles, collapses, rebirths.
Then — he senses it.
A golden ripple cuts through the stream.
A boy's laugh.
A glimmer of power.
A singular echo.
The image of Franklin Richards — tiny, uncertain, glowing faintly as he awakens to himself — appears within the Watcher's vision.
UATU (V.O., deep, resonant):
"There are moments… in every reality… that change everything."
The cosmic timeline glows with a new branch.
Unstable. Untouched.
Dangerous.
UATU (V.O.):
"This child… is not born of this world.
Not bound to its laws.
Not written into its design."
More flashes: Tony holding Franklin. Franklin syncing with machines. Franklin dreaming of collapsing stars. Kang watching from the shadows.
UATU (V.O.):
"He is the echo of universes lost…
…and the seed of something yet to come."
The Watcher does not blink.
Does not move.
But something inside him stirs — quietly.
UATU (V.O.):
"I must not interfere.
I cannot."
The timeline begins to fray.
Images of potential futures spiral:
Franklin as a beacon of peace.Franklin as a force of destruction.Earth in harmony.Earth in ruin.Stark standing between worlds.Kang stepping through time.
UATU (V.O.):
"But I will watch."
His eyes narrow slightly.
The universe hums.
UATU (final whisper):
"And if the time comes…
I will remember."
He turns, walking deeper into the eternal vault of stars.
Watching.
Always watching.
INT. STARK SAFEHOUSE – PRIVATE LAB – NIGHT
The lab is dimly lit.
Holographic readouts hover in the air. Charts. DNA scans. Neural readings. Radiation spectrums.
In the center of the room, Franklin lies quietly on a scanning bed surrounded by gentle rings of soft blue light. He watches the ceiling lights — blinking calmly, humming a little tune to himself.
Tony Stark stands nearby, arms crossed, studying the data.
He's not wearing a suit or gloves. No protective armor. Just a hoodie, jeans, and a face full of concern.
TONY (to JARVIS):
"Anything new?"
JARVIS (V.O.):
"Aside from emitting energy signatures not catalogued in any known element… and displaying a neural structure that resembles no Earth-based organism? No, sir. Perfectly ordinary toddler."
Tony snorts.
TONY:
"Knew it. Knew something was off the moment he fixed my drone without tools. Toddlers eat Legos. They don't reprogram them."
He walks over and sits beside the scanner.
Franklin reaches out toward him, golden sparks crackling gently from his fingertips.
They don't burn. They warm.
Tony gently takes Franklin's hand and runs a micro sensor wand over his skin. The readings spike wildly.
TONY (murmuring):
"You've got enough energy to light up Manhattan. But your heart rate says you're calmer than me."
He pulls up a holographic DNA model.
It's human.
But also… more.
A second helix — shimmering, barely holding together — spirals around the core. It flickers like it's not meant to exist here.
TONY:
"This second layer... it's like your genes are remembering another universe."
He looks over at Franklin, who now plays with floating light particles like bubbles.
Tony lowers his voice.
TONY:
"You're not just enhanced. You're rewritten."
Franklin looks up and smiles.
TONY (soft):
"And I'm supposed to protect that."
He stands and takes a long breath.
Then turns back to the terminal.
TONY (to JARVIS):
"Start drafting a neural containment matrix. Nothing restrictive. Just something that reads his surges in real-time."
JARVIS (V.O.):
"And if his surges exceed containment thresholds?"
TONY (firm):
"Then we build something better."
He glances back at Franklin.
The boy has curled up, gently glowing, already half-asleep again.
Tony walks over, kneels, and adjusts the blanket.
TONY (whispering):
"I don't care what you are. You're mine."
He brushes the hair back from Franklin's forehead.
TONY (quietly):
"We'll figure this out. Together."
He turns off the lights. The lab dims, leaving only Franklin's faint, golden glow.
The lab remains dim.
Only the soft hum of power and the quiet beeping of monitors fills the air.
Tony Stark sits at his workbench, sketching designs — a containment wristband for Franklin, modeled after an arc stabilizer, but smaller, safer.
His face is tense but focused.
In the background, Franklin sleeps under the observation scanner — a faint golden glow radiating from him.
Then—
a flicker.
The glow pulses once.
TONY (not noticing):
"Okay, pressure caps set at 0.3 kilojoules. Responsive AI tied to his biometrics. Shouldn't feel like anything more than a bracelet..."
BEEP.
A sharp alert from the console.
Tony looks up.
TONY:
"JARVIS?"
JARVIS (V.O.):
"Sir, I'm detecting a spike in subatomic flux density within the child's energy field."
TONY (getting up):
"In English, please."
JARVIS:
"He's… vibrating."
Tony walks toward Franklin.
On-screen, Franklin's body is surrounded by light tendrils, barely visible — like aurora trapped under skin.
He shifts in his sleep.
Breath shallow. Whimpering.
TONY (softly):
"Hey, hey… buddy, it's okay."
But then — the room starts to tremble.
Lights flicker.
Metal tools levitate off the workbench — slowly at first, then violently repelled outward like a shockwave.
The air thickens.
The floor cracks under Franklin's scanner bed.
TONY (alarmed):
"JARVIS, shut it down! Power everything off now!"
JARVIS:
"Attempting energy dampening—"
Suddenly, Franklin jerks awake — eyes wide, glowing bright white-gold.
And then —
BOOOOM.
A silent pulse wave of energy explodes outward.
Glass shatters.
Tables crash over.
The entire lab floods with golden light — but Tony stands firm, arms raised, shielding his face.
Then —
Silence.
When the light fades, everything is frozen mid-air.
Like time itself hesitated.
Franklin floats six inches above the scanner bed.
Eyes glowing.
Tears on his face.
FRANKLIN (whispers, scared):
"I didn't mean to…"
Tony rushes forward — not with fear, but with purpose.
He gently grabs Franklin, holding him close.
TONY (reassuring):
"Hey. I got you. You're okay. We're okay."
The floating tools drop.
The lights stabilize.
Franklin breathes slowly against his chest.
Tony holds him tighter.
TONY (soft):
"No more labs tonight. Just rest."
He walks slowly out of the room, Franklin in his arms.
As they leave, behind them, on the cracked lab monitor:
The energy reading hasn't gone back to zero.
It's growing again.
Quietly.
INT. STARK SAFEHOUSE – FRONT ENTRY – NIGHT
A heavy knock at the reinforced steel door.
TONY STARK appears, bleary-eyed, dressed in a worn T-shirt and sweatpants, Franklin asleep on his shoulder, wrapped in a small blanket.
He opens the door.
JAMES "RHODEY" RHODES stands there — not in uniform, just jeans and a jacket, but his face says it all: worried, angry, and trying not to yell.
TONY (dry):
"No pizza? Wow. Rude."
RHODEY (flat):
"We need to talk."
Tony looks over his shoulder.
Then steps aside.
INT. STARK SAFEHOUSE – LIVING ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
The house is dim. Quiet. Monitors hum softly in the background. Small lights flicker from the lab below.
Tony gently lays Franklin into a cradle in the corner of the room.
He pulls a blanket over the kid, brushes his hair aside — affectionate, but distracted.
RHODEY (from behind):
"He okay?"
TONY (softly):
"He's fine. Exhausted."
Tony turns. Rhodey's arms are crossed.
RHODEY:
"The last time I saw that much light shoot out of anything, it was a nuke test."
TONY:
"You're exaggerating. Barely registered outside the grid."
RHODEY:
"Tony — NORAD picked it up. SHIELD picked it up. I picked it up. Your 'kid' lit up half the damn sky."
Tony exhales, walks to the kitchen counter, and pours himself water.
TONY:
"He had a surge. It was a dream. He didn't mean to."
RHODEY (stepping forward):
"That's not the point."
TONY:
"Then what is?"
RHODEY (calm, but serious):
"The point is you're raising a walking cosmic event. In your house. Alone. No backup. No plan. What happens if one day he doesn't stop glowing?"
Tony doesn't answer immediately.
TONY (finally):
"I'm working on a stabilizer. A passive energy regulator. Nothing invasive—"
RHODEY:
"No, man. Don't give me the tech talk."
Rhodey steps closer, lowering his voice.
RHODEY:
"This isn't a reactor problem. This isn't a Mark II armor test. This is a kid. A scared kid who could tear open reality because he has a bad dream."
Tony looks away.
RHODEY (softer):
"You think I'm here to yell at you? I'm not. I'm here because I'm scared. For you. For him. For everyone."
Tony finally looks up.
And for once, he looks tired. Not physically — emotionally.
TONY (quiet):
"He doesn't have anyone else, Rhodey."
A long silence.
Then Tony adds:
TONY:
"Neither did I. Not really."
Rhodey lets that hang for a moment.
Then walks over to the cradle, looking at the sleeping boy.
RHODEY:
"So what now? You gonna build a bunker? Run from SHIELD? Raise a god with bedtime stories and pacifiers?"
TONY (shrugs):
"No. I'm gonna do what my old man never did. Stay."
RHODEY (after a pause):
"Alright. But if you're staying… I'm staying too."
Tony looks at him, surprised.
TONY:
"You volunteering to be Uncle Rhodey?"
RHODEY (deadpan):
"If it keeps him from vaporizing the fridge again? Absolutely."
They share a small, tired laugh.
Rhodey looks back at Franklin.
RHODEY (softly):
"Whatever he is, he's still a kid. But the rest of the world's not gonna see him that way."
TONY (nodding):
"Then I guess it's up to us to show them different."
They stand together.
Two men in over their heads.
But standing all the same.
EXT. STARK SAFEHOUSE – BACKYARD – MIDDAY
The desert sun hangs warm and soft in the sky.
A small clearing behind the safehouse has been converted into a makeshift play area. Artificial turf. A few toys. And in the middle of it all, a bright blue plastic kiddie pool filled with water.
Franklin, wearing an oversized "Stark Industries" T-shirt and sunglasses too big for his face, splashes happily in the pool.
TONY STARK lounges nearby in a beach chair, sipping iced tea, wearing flip-flops and a straw hat.
TONY (to JARVIS):
"Remind me again why I didn't install a water slide back here?"
JARVIS (V.O.):
"Because, sir, in your own words: 'I don't want to raise a spoiled golden retriever in a sunhat.'"
TONY:
"Mmm. Good call. Still. Might build one."
Franklin giggles — he sends a little ripple of golden energy into the water, making the entire pool bubble like a hot tub.
Tony raises an eyebrow.
TONY (mock stern):
"Hey. We said 'low-power playtime.' No quantum hot tubs before lunch."
Franklin laughs harder.
TONY (quietly, smiling):
"That's better."
He watches for a beat.
Not as a scientist.
Not as Iron Man.
Just… a dad.
Franklin picks up a foam toy hammer, lifts it dramatically in the air.
FRANKLIN (giggling):
"I am… THE SPLASHER!"
He throws water toward Tony.
Tony raises his arms to block, pretending to get hit.
TONY (mock gasp):
"Ack! Betrayal! The pool king has turned!"
They both burst into laughter.
Then silence.
Just the sound of water and wind.
Tony leans back, looking up at the open sky.
For the first time in weeks… there's peace.
TONY (softly, to himself):
"You deserve this. Even if it's just for today."
Franklin stops splashing and turns toward him.
FRANKLIN (quiet):
"Are you my real dad?"
Tony freezes — caught off guard.
He lowers his sunglasses and looks at Franklin carefully.
TONY (honest):
"I don't know, kid."
Franklin tilts his head.
TONY:
"But I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere. So yeah… I guess I'm your real dad now."
Franklin just nods and goes back to splashing.
Like it was the easiest answer in the world.
Tony watches him.
Soft smile. But there's emotion behind it.
JARVIS (V.O., gently):
"You're doing better than you think, sir."
Tony doesn't reply.
He just watches the boy.
As the sun continues to shine.
And for a moment — no timelines unravel. No threats approach. No decisions to make.
Just a man and a child.
INT. SHIELD HELICARRIER – STRATEGIC OPERATIONS ROOM – NIGHT
Dimly lit.
The room hums with encrypted data screens. Security feeds show the Stark Safehouse from a distance. Energy wave readings. Franklin's pulse charts. Stark's press conference, still looping silently in one corner.
NICK FURY stands at the head of the table, one hand resting on a folder stamped "CLASSIFIED – OMEGA LEVEL."
Across from him stands NATASHA ROMANOFF, calm and unreadable in a leather jacket.
FURY (gravelly, cold):
"He's not just building toys anymore."
NATASHA (casual):
"Tony never just builds toys."
Fury turns to a monitor — shows a brief clip of the energy pulse from Franklin's outburst.
The wave rips across satellite footage, warping electromagnetic readings across continents.
FURY:
"This came from a toddler. A toddler Stark's calling his son."
NATASHA (arms crossed):
"And you think Tony's hiding something?"
FURY:
"No. I think he doesn't know what he's hiding. Which is worse."
He picks up the folder and tosses it on the table in front of her.
Inside: photos of Franklin. Stark's updated tech. Satellite shots of the safehouse. A rough dossier of the child's known powers (with a lot of "unknown" and "unmeasurable" on every page).
FURY (sharp):
"I want someone inside. Someone who can blend in. Someone Stark won't see coming."
Natasha raises an eyebrow.
NATASHA:
"You want me to play nanny?"
FURY:
"No. I want you to watch him. Quietly. Deeply. And if things go wrong…"
He doesn't finish the sentence.
He doesn't have to.
She closes the folder.
NATASHA (flat):
"You think Stark will buy it?"
FURY:
"He's distracted. Emotional. Rewriting his life to fit a child from the stars. If anyone can walk past his ego and into the room — it's you."
She nods once.
NATASHA:
"Any cover?"
FURY (hands her a tablet):
"You're a freelance AI ethicist named Natalie Rushman, Stark Industries is vetting you for an R&D oversight role. You start next week."
She tucks the tablet away.
Turns to leave.
NATASHA (without turning):
"And if the kid is dangerous?"
FURY (after a long pause):
"Then let's hope Stark stays the hero he claims he is."
She walks out.
Camera lingers on the file, now glowing faintly.
On the tab:
FRANKLIN STARK – LEVEL RED PRIORITY – COSMIC SIGNATURE ACTIVE
EXT. STARK SAFEHOUSE – FRONT DRIVE – MORNING
A sleek black car stops outside the compound. The desert wind kicks up dust as the door opens and Natalie Rushman steps out — sharp suit, clean-cut style, zero hesitation.
She's holding a slim briefcase and wears dark sunglasses.
INT. STARK SAFEHOUSE – FRONT DOOR – MOMENTS LATER
The door opens.
TONY STARK, shirt half-buttoned, hair messy, smoothie in hand, looks confused.
TONY:
"You're… early. Or lost."
NATASHA (pleasant):
"Natalie Rushman. Stark Industries HR assigned me. Personal assistant."
Tony blinks.
TONY:
"They did? Without asking me?"
NATASHA:
"You missed three hiring meetings in a row. This was their solution."
TONY:
"Typical. I ignore one budget review and suddenly I've got a secretary."
She holds out her resume tablet.
Tony looks her up and down — impressed but trying not to show it.
TONY:
"You do know what this job entails, right? Dodging lasers, coffee-fetching under pressure, occasionally helping me hide stolen alien tech?"
NATASHA (cool):
"I've worked with difficult geniuses before."
Tony smirks.
TONY:
"You're gonna fit right in."
He steps aside and waves her in.
INT. STARK SAFEHOUSE – LIVING ROOM – CONTINUOUS
The entry is sleek and modern. Holograms hum faintly. Through the glass doors, you can see a few drones buzzing lazily outside.
Franklin sits on the couch in a pile of books and glowing blocks.
He looks up at Natalie. Stares.
FRANKLIN (calmly):
"You're not who you say you are."
Tony glances back at him, chuckling.
TONY:
"Ignore him. He says that to the TV too."
Natalie kneels slightly, speaking gently.
NATASHA:
"Hi, Franklin. I'm Natalie."
Franklin narrows his eyes, then — suddenly — all the blocks float a few inches upward.
Just a little warning.
She doesn't flinch.
TONY (from the kitchen):
"He does that. Don't worry — he usually glows before something explodes."
She straightens, still calm.
NATASHA:
"He's… special."
TONY (pouring coffee):
"Yeah, he's a whole other kind of special. Still figuring out how many kinds."
He returns and hands her a Stark tablet.
TONY:
"Okay, paperwork's boring. If you're going to work here, rule one: don't rearrange my desk. Rule two: don't make eye contact with the fridge drone. It gets territorial."
NATASHA (professional):
"Noted. What's my first task?"
TONY (grinning):
"Let's start with: survive the week. Then we'll move to advanced sarcasm and coffee filtration."
She smiles lightly.
As Tony walks off, Natalie takes in the house. The tech. The layout. The security.
And Franklin — who's still watching her.
Quiet. Curious. Glowing faintly.
FRANKLIN (softly, under his breath):
"You're watching me."
She says nothing.
Just gives him a soft nod.
INT. STARK SAFEHOUSE – GUEST ROOM – NIGHT
A sleek, sterile guest room with minimalist décor. The only light comes from a slim StarkPad on the desk and the soft blue glow of the hallway.
Natalie Rushman sits on the bed, hair down, casual in a tank top and lounge pants. Calm. Controlled. A spy at rest — but never off duty.
She opens a hollow bracelet on her wrist. From the inner band, a tiny holo-projector flickers to life, displaying a SHIELD communication interface.
She speaks quietly.
NATASHA (low):
"Rushman to SHIELD. Codename Widow. Secure channel active. Reporting day one of embedded surveillance."
She glances at the door, then back to the hologram.
NATASHA:
"Target Franklin Stark is physically stable. Subject exhibits spontaneous low-level energy emissions during play and sleep cycles. Observed no direct aggression. High emotional intelligence."
She pauses, watching a playback of Franklin earlier that day: lifting blocks with his mind, making water dance, sensing her presence without turning.
NATASHA:
"He knew who I was. Or at least… what I was."
She taps the hologram — it brings up a visual scan she recorded during Franklin's glance at her: mild spike in telepathic resonance and quantum emotional mapping.
NATASHA (murmuring):
"He didn't read my thoughts. He read my history."
She takes a breath.
NATASHA:
"Tony remains unaware of my cover. He's distracted. Emotional. Reckless — but protective. He's treating Franklin like a real son. No restraint. No backup plan."
A pause.
Then she leans forward slightly.
Her tone changes — more personal.
NATASHA (quietly):
"He's not just a weapon, Nick. He's a child. A weird, glowing, reality-bending child — but still a child."
The communicator flashes a message from NICK FURY:
"Assessment: Threat Level?"
She reads it.
Then looks back at the door.
Down the hall, she can hear faint laughter — Tony and Franklin playing some clumsy game with a drone and a tennis ball.
Natasha doesn't answer right away.
Finally:
NATASHA (firm):
"Unknown. But if SHIELD tries to neutralize him without cause… I won't be the one pulling the trigger."
She closes the channel.
The hologram flickers off.
She exhales.
Then stands and walks quietly to the door — opening it just slightly to see into the hall.
INT. STARK SAFEHOUSE – HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
Franklin zooms past on a tiny hoverboard. Tony chases him, holding a bowl of popcorn like a football.
Both laughing. Loud. Human.
TONY:
"You crash that thing into the coffee machine again and it's you doing the repairs!"
FRANKLIN (laughing):
"You said 'hoverboards were cool'!"
TONY:
"I didn't mean indoor hover-parkour, you little cosmic skateboarder!"
Natasha watches silently.
Expression unreadable.
But something behind her eyes shifts.
Just a flicker of doubt.
Or sympathy.
Maybe both.
BLACK SCREEN
The sound of a heartbeat.
Faint. Distant.
Then—
LIGHT.
A sudden whoosh of stars, galaxies folding inward, colors no human eyes were meant to see. Planets form and die in moments. Nebulas spiral through liquid time.
And in the middle of it all…
A pod.
INT. POD – FRANKLIN'S POV
Dark.
Heavy.
Breathing is difficult.
Then a crack —
a hairline fracture in space, reality peeling like paper.
He opens his eyes.
They're not baby eyes.
They are older than the universe outside.
FRANKLIN (V.O., calm, godlike):
"I was asleep for… I don't know how long. But when I woke up— I remembered everything."
FLASHES – NO ORDER, NO RULES
A thousand Earths collapsing like dominos.A young Reed Richards yelling his name across the void.Galactus, kneeling before him.Franklin, smiling as he builds a new universe with his hands.The words: "You are not meant to exist."Laughter. Light. Silence.
INT. VOID BETWEEN TIME – POV FLOATING
He floats in nothing.
All directions are down.
All moments are now.
He sees himself — but older, glowing, powerful, terrible and beautiful.
OLDER FRANKLIN (echoing):
"You asked to be born again. You wanted to forget. You wanted to feel small."
FRANKLIN (V.O., childlike, confused):
"But I don't want to forget anymore."
The void cracks.
The world returns.
INT. STARK SAFEHOUSE – OBSERVATION ROOM – NIGHT
He wakes up in the pod.
Franklin gasps.
Looks at his hands.
Small.
Weak.
Wrong.
FRANKLIN (V.O.):
"This isn't what I looked like before. This isn't what I felt like."
He reaches out and the walls ripple, glass turns to water, then back to glass again.
Tony's voice is distant. Kind. Unimportant.
Franklin is already somewhere else.
INT. HIS MIND – PLANET SIZED THOUGHTS
He walks through his memories like halls.
He sees:
A sun, shaped like a smile.A version of himself holding a collapsing multiverse in his arms.Kang, staring at him with fear.
KANG (echoing):
"He's back."
INT. EARTH – NIGHT
Franklin walks barefoot across the safehouse floor.
Every step leaves behind stars for a split second.
He touches a plant.
It grows, withers, explodes into birds, then resets.
Tony snores on the couch.
Franklin watches him.
Confused.
Amused.
FRANKLIN (V.O.):
"This one loves me. He doesn't understand why."
He raises his hand.
And for a heartbeat — he nearly rewrites Tony into someone else.
But stops.
He smiles.
FRANKLIN (V.O.):
"I could make a better world. Right now."
A beat.
FRANKLIN (V.O.):
"But maybe this one… needs me just like this."
He walks to the window.
Looks up.
His eyes burn with cosmic light.
He sees everything watching him.
The Watcher.
Kang.
Galactus.
The Multiverse.
Even Destiny herself.
He smiles wider.
FRANKLIN (V.O.):
"You thought I forgot."
The stars pulse.
He whispers into the night:
FRANKLIN:
"I remember."