The Helicarrier's hum became a steady rhythm in Carl's mind as he sat alone in the observation room, still gazing out at the endless sky. It was a vast contrast to the storm inside him—the lingering questions, the Set's ever-present pulse, and the knowledge that the convergence might just be the beginning. The calm was fragile, but it was there for now, like the eye of a hurricane.
Carl leaned back, closing his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. But instead of peace, memories flooded him—flashes of the battle, the sheer overwhelming force of the Set's power coursing through him. He remembered the way it had almost seemed to have a will of its own, guiding him, pushing him to make decisions. And now, it lingered, always there, always watching.
A faint chime echoed in the room as the door slid open. This time, it wasn't Natasha. Steve Rogers entered, his calm presence somehow always reassuring. He took a seat opposite Carl, not saying anything for a moment, just letting the silence settle between them.
"You're thinking too hard, Carl," Steve finally said, offering a small smile. "I can practically see the gears turning."
Carl sighed, shifting his gaze back to the window. "It's hard not to. This thing around my neck... it's not just a tool, Steve. It's like it's alive."
Steve nodded thoughtfully, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "I know. And I don't think any of us fully understand what we're dealing with yet. But I do know this: you're not alone in figuring it out. You don't have to carry this burden by yourself."
Carl appreciated Steve's calm demeanor, but the pressure he felt was deeply personal. The Set had chosen him, and it didn't feel like something anyone else could truly share. Yet, Steve's words carried weight, and Carl respected him too much to brush it off.
"It feels like everything is leading up to something bigger," Carl admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "Like there's more at play here than we realize."
Steve's expression grew serious. "There usually is. We've learned that the hard way. But that doesn't mean you need to let it control you. One step at a time, Carl."
Carl nodded but stayed quiet. Steve's words were comforting, but there was something still gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Something unresolved, lingering just out of reach.
As if sensing his hesitation, Steve stood, giving Carl a firm pat on the shoulder. "You'll figure it out. And when you do, we'll be ready."
With that, Steve left the room, leaving Carl to his thoughts once more. The silence returned, though it wasn't as heavy as before. Carl's mind wandered back to the Set, the moments in the battle when it had guided him. Why had it responded the way it did? Why had it chosen him? There were no answers—only more questions.
Just as he was about to lose himself in thought again, the Set began to pulse, faintly but noticeably. Carl's breath hitched. He could feel it, not just against his chest, but deep in his mind, like a tugging sensation, as if it wanted to show him something.
"What are you?" Carl whispered, placing his hand over the Set.
No answer, of course. But the pulse didn't stop. Instead, it intensified, and Carl's vision blurred for a moment. The world around him began to shift, and before he could react, he was no longer in the observation room.
He stood in a void—a vast, endless expanse of darkness. Yet it wasn't empty. He could feel presences all around him, unseen but powerful, ancient and eternal. Carl's heart raced as he turned, trying to find something—anything—in the void.
Then, a figure materialized before him. Tall, cloaked in shadows, with eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness. The being was unlike anything Carl had ever seen, its form shifting and flickering as if it existed in multiple realities at once.
"Who... are you?" Carl asked, his voice barely steady.
The figure's voice was deep, echoing through the void like the rumble of a distant storm. "I am a part of what you now hold. The Set of Ancient Powers is not simply an artifact, mortal. It is a conduit, a gateway to forces beyond your understanding."
Carl's mouth went dry. "Why did it choose me?"
The figure's eyes seemed to burn brighter. "You are not chosen. You are a vessel. The Set seeks to align with those who can unlock its full potential. You were merely the one who reached for it when the opportunity arose."
Carl took a step back, his heart pounding. "So, what now? Am I just supposed to be your puppet?"
The figure remained still, but its voice grew colder. "No. You are the one who decides how this power is used. But know this, young one—every action you take with the Set will ripple through the multiverse. The choices you make will determine the balance of power across countless realms."
Carl's head spun. "I didn't ask for this. I don't want this responsibility."
The figure's form shifted, becoming less distinct, almost like a fading shadow. "Desire is irrelevant. The Set has bonded to you. And whether you like it or not, your choices will shape the future of more than just your world."
Carl wanted to argue, to shout, to refuse this destiny. But deep down, he knew it was true. The Set had chosen him—or, at least, had bound itself to him. And now, there was no turning back.
The void began to dissolve, the figure fading into the darkness. As it disappeared, the final words echoed in Carl's mind: "Beware the shadows. They watch, and they wait."
Suddenly, Carl snapped back to reality, gasping as he found himself once again in the observation room. His heart raced, his hand clutching the Set around his neck. The pulse had stopped, but the weight of the encounter lingered.
Beware the shadows. They watch, and they wait.
Carl knew, now more than ever, that he wasn't just fighting for control over the Set. There were forces watching him—forces that might be waiting for him to slip, to lose control.
He rose from his seat, pacing the room as he tried to make sense of it all. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but one thing stood out above the rest: he needed answers, and he couldn't wait for them to come to him.
Carl took a deep breath, resolving himself. He would seek out the truth, no matter where it led him. The Set may have chosen him, but he would not be a pawn in someone else's game.
Not if he could help it.
---
Hours later, Carl found himself standing in front of Tony Stark's lab on the Helicarrier. The door slid open, revealing Tony, hunched over a holographic interface, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"You look like you're working on something important," Carl said, his voice cutting through the soft hum of machinery.
Tony glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "Always am, kid. What's up?"
Carl stepped into the lab, his gaze shifting to the various holographic displays around him. "I need your help. There's more to the Set than we thought. I need to understand it—how it works, where it comes from, and what it wants."
Tony leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he studied Carl. "You're not gonna like what you find, are you?"
Carl shrugged. "Maybe not. But I need to know. And if I don't figure it out soon, we might not get another chance."
Tony stared at him for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's dig into this thing."
As Tony activated the displays, Carl felt a strange mix of determination and dread. Whatever the Set was, whatever it wanted, Carl was done waiting. He would uncover its secrets—and he would face whatever came next, head-on.
Because the shadows were watching.
And Carl was ready.