Two weeks.
The words echoed in Sam's mind as he stood before the floor-to-ceiling window of his new office. Two weeks until a demigod opened a portal over New York and rained down an alien army. Two weeks until the Avengers assembled for the first time. Two weeks until the world learned that it was not alone, and that the universe was a very, very dangerous place.
From this height, New York looked peaceful. Toy cars navigated gridlocked streets, and tiny people scurried about their lives, blissfully unaware of the Chitauri horde waiting in the void. The calm before the storm was a cliché for a reason. It was palpable.
The office behind him was no longer the dusty shell he'd acquired. It was the nerve center of Atlas Biotech. AetherLink had seamlessly integrated with the building's systems, creating a network so secure that not even S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best could have pinged it. Holographic displays, visible only to him, floated in the air, showing real-time data from the R&D lab one floor below.
The HyperCell project had exploded. In a mere two months, his team—guided by the "failed research" he'd provided—had not only stabilized the prototype but were already drafting plans for a pilot production line. The numbers were staggering. They were sitting on an energy revolution, and the scientific community was starting to buzz with rumors of a "disruptive startup."
A soft chime echoed in the room. Not from the door, but from the air itself.
"Dr. Connors is requesting entry," AetherLink's calm, digital voice stated.
"Let him in," Sam said, not turning from the window.
The door hissed open. Curt Connors walked in, his step lighter than it had been in years. The perpetual grimace of frustration was gone, replaced by a focused energy. In his hand was a tablet glowing with complex genetic sequences.
"Sam," Connors said, his voice brimming with excitement he barely contained. "The stabilization metrics on the revised formula are… it's perfect. Beyond perfect. We've run it through every simulation, every predictive model. There's zero degeneration. Zero reptilian feedback." He shook his head in awe. "It's everything I ever dreamed of."
Sam finally turned, offering a small smile. "That's excellent news, Curt. Your work is changing the world."
"Our work," Connors corrected him, though his eyes held a debt he knew he could never repay. "The board at Oscorp is getting suspicious. They've noticed my lack of 'progress' on their doomed projects. They're asking questions about where my attention is going."
"Let them ask," Sam said, his voice mild. "Your contract with Atlas is ironclad. And our patents are already being filed. They have no legal footing." He walked over to his desk, where a simple ceramic cup held his tea. "Besides, soon they'll have much bigger things to worry about."
Connors caught the odd inflection in his voice. "What do you mean?"
Sam paused, considering how much to reveal. "The world is about to get a lot stranger, Curt. Keep your head down. Focus on the work. Our time is coming very soon."
Before Connors could press, another chime sounded.
"Incoming secure communication from Ms. Kyle," AetherLink announced. "Priority flag: curious."
Sam's smile became more genuine. "Put her through."
Kyle's face materialized in a holographic screen to his right. She was in the Brazil office, her hair tied back, looking every bit the efficient executive. Behind her, Sam could see the old man moving boxes in the background, refusing to be retired.
"Just got the production forecast from Clara," Kyle said, skipping any greeting. "She's talking about needing a new warehouse already. Are these numbers real? This can't be right."
"They're real," Sam confirmed. "Tell her to secure the space. Money is no object."
Kyle whistled softly. "You know, for a guy who used to worry about the price of eggs, you've gotten pretty casual about buying industrial real estate." Her eyes narrowed playfully. "You're not printing money with that power of yours, are you?"
"Only legally," Sam deadpanned. "How's the old man?"
"Driving me insane," Kyle said, but her fondness was clear. "He's 'testing' the new batch of strengthened tea leaves. I think he's just figured out it makes him feel twenty years younger. He's rearranging the entire storage room by himself."
"Let him," Sam chuckled. "It's good for him." His tone softened. "How are you?"
The question hung in the air. It wasn't about business. It was about the moon, the cosmic truths, the weight of the anchor.
Kyle's flippant expression softened. She understood. "I'm… adjusting. It's a lot to get used to. But I'm good. We're good." She glanced off-screen. "I should go before he tries to lift a pallet of rice with his bare hands again. Don't do anything stupid, Sam."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said.
The call ended. The hologram winked out, leaving Sam alone with Connors once more.
"She seems… formidable," Connors observed.
"She's the reason this company hasn't collapsed under the weight of my ideas," Sam said simply. He looked back out the window, the two-week deadline pressing on his mind.
He had a company. He had a revolutionary battery. He had a perfected super-soldier serum waiting in the wings. He had allies