Albedo stood perched on the narrow ledge of an apartment building in Midtown, his black-and-white vigilante suit blending into the darkness. Even though the moon was high, the city's light pollution always gave the sky a faint glow. Below him, the usual swirl of Manhattan night life continued—taxi cabs streaking by, pedestrians still roaming in the safer neighborhoods, and the occasional distant siren. The Ultimatrix hummed quietly beneath the sleek fabric on his wrist, hidden from sight. After several weeks of teaming up sporadically with Spider-Man, he'd grown more comfortable balancing his double life. His new status as a wealthy inventor, courtesy of his successful Healing Chamber patent, had given him ample resources to refine his vigilante gear. Yet he found that no matter how advanced his technology became, he still felt a thrill of nerves and excitement each time he prepared for a nighttime patrol.
High above the street level, a faint thwip and the whisper of webbing pulling taut signaled the arrival of his now-frequent collaborator. Spider-Man swung into view, flipping gracefully to land beside Albedo on the ledge. He wore his classic red-and-blue suit, though Albedo noticed he'd patched up a few tears from their previous escapade battling some minor costumed criminals. The web-slinger offered a two-finger salute, lenses narrowing in greeting.
"Hey, shapeshifty buddy," Spider-Man joked, tapping the side of his mask. "You ready for another round of 'stop the city from imploding' tonight? Or are you just soaking in the ambiance?"
Albedo suppressed a small smile behind the portion of his mask that covered his mouth. "I was…gathering my thoughts," he said. "But yes, I'm ready. Anything on the police scanners?"
Spider-Man pulled out a phone-like device from a hidden pocket. "Few minor pings—some break-ins near SoHo, a possible arms deal in the docks. Nothing too out of the ordinary." He paused, letting the device fold away. "But that's not why I swung by first. I wanted to invite you somewhere special."
Albedo tilted his head. "Oh?"
"Well, we've done good work together. I think you're the real deal, no hidden evil agendas. I mentioned you to some of my—uh—superhero colleagues. They're curious to meet you. So… how about you come with me tomorrow evening to Avengers Mansion?"
For a moment, Albedo's heart jolted. He remembered the time he first met the Fantastic Four and how surreal that had felt. The Avengers, though, were the preeminent team in this universe. Iron Man, Captain America, Thor—icons whose names carried weight in every corner of the globe. If Spider-Man wanted to introduce him to them, that was no small gesture.
"Avengers Mansion," Albedo repeated, letting the words sink in. "That's a pretty big step. Are you sure they'll be okay with me just…showing up?"
Spider-Man shrugged, an easy grin in his voice. "They trust me, more or less. A couple of them are skeptical about new faces—especially ones who can do weird transformations—but I told them about how you helped take down the Sinister Six, and how you've consistently been on the right side of things. They want to see for themselves. It's not an interrogation, more like an informal 'meet and greet.' If it goes well, maybe they'll call on you when bigger threats show up."
Albedo took a moment to process. On one hand, forging an alliance with the Avengers could expand his circle of trust and give him access to resources and knowledge he'd never have gotten alone. On the other, it risked deeper scrutiny of his background. He'd so far avoided serious questions about who he really was and where he'd come from. But if he was honest with himself, forging connections in this dimension was part of his mission—both for redemption and for building a better future.
"All right," he said at last, trying to mask the nerves in his voice. "I'll do it. Tomorrow evening?"
"Yeah. I'll text you the details. We'll head over around seven. They're used to… interesting dinner guests." Spider-Man stood, gazing across the city. Then he turned back. "You want to do a quick patrol? Or do you need the night off to mentally prepare?"
Albedo gave a mild scoff. "I can handle one more night of petty criminals before facing the Avengers."
Spider-Man chuckled. "That's the spirit. Let's see if we can break up a break-in or two. Follow me."
He launched a webline and swung off into the night. Albedo engaged his own grappling hook from the Proto-Tool Mark II on his forearm, leaping off the building. In a matter of seconds, the two of them soared high above the bustling streets, scanning for trouble. With the city shimmering below, Albedo couldn't help feeling that tomorrow's meeting at Avengers Mansion might be even more of a rush than any rooftop flight.
The following evening, Albedo found himself in his penthouse apartment, pacing. It was barely six o'clock, but he was already dressed in his black-and-white hero attire, minus the hood and face mask. He'd reasoned that wearing the suit to the mansion was best; the Avengers would want to see him in costume. Even so, he kept glancing at the mirror by the door, double-checking every seam. The unstable molecule material felt comfortable enough. He'd even added a subtle embroidered patch with a stylized "GH" for "Grey Hero," the placeholder codename he sometimes used. Not exactly a final brand, but at least it was better than letting the media call him "Monkey Morph" or something equally odd.
At precisely 6:15, he got a text from Spider-Man: On your rooftop in five. Albedo took a steadying breath, grabbed the small bag containing a few technical prototypes he thought might impress the Avengers, then headed to the private elevator. As it whisked him up to the roof, he couldn't help but recall the surreal path that had led him here: from fleeing death in his old dimension, to building the Healing Chamber, to forging a quiet vigilante identity, and now to meeting Earth's Mightiest Heroes. It all felt improbable, but somehow correct.
When the elevator doors opened onto the rooftop, Albedo was greeted by the sight of Spider-Man perched on the ledge, red-and-blue suit sharp in the golden glow of dusk. A sleek Quinjet soared overhead—probably on some Avenger mission—but it was too far away to matter. Spider-Man hopped down, giving Albedo a friendly nod.
"You look nervous," the web-slinger teased, hands on his hips. "Don't worry, these guys are mostly normal folks. Well, except for the demigod from outer space and the super soldier from the 1940s. But still."
Albedo let out a controlled breath. "I'll do my best to act normal."
"Awesome. Since I can't exactly carry you all the way, let's do this the standard way." Spider-Man pulled out a small Avengers-issue transport device—essentially a portable teleporter keyed to Avengers Mansion's reception area. "They don't love me using it casually, but they gave permission for tonight."
He gestured for Albedo to step closer. The hero in black and white complied, feeling the mild hum of the device as Spider-Man keyed in a code. A shimmering field enveloped them, the rooftop dissolving in a swirl of light. Albedo felt the odd vertigo that came with sudden spatial displacement, and then, in a flicker, he was standing in an elegant foyer. Marble floors, high ceilings, and tasteful modern decor greeted him. The Avengers Mansion.
Spider-Man shook off the teleportation dizziness. "We can't do that all the time—it'll give me migraines—but it's handy for a short hop." He turned to a small computer console near the wall, tapping in a check-in code. "Just letting them know we've arrived."
Albedo took in the surroundings. On the walls, discreet but recognizable Avengers emblems perched above doorways. Nearby, a pair of glass display cases housed artifacts from past adventures—he glimpsed a battered piece of Ultron's plating and some charred scraps of alien machinery.
Heavy footsteps approached from down a corridor. Albedo turned to see none other than Tony Stark—Iron Man—striding toward them, though currently in a casual suit without the armor. His posture exuded confidence, dark hair neatly trimmed, a well-groomed goatee on his face.
"Spidey," Tony greeted, giving him a half-salute. His gaze then slid to Albedo. "And you must be the new shapeshifter on the block. Grey Hero, was it? Or is it Nova Simian? I've seen conflicting reports."
Albedo felt a flush of embarrassment. "Grey Hero is… what I tend to go by, yes. But we can skip the codenames if you prefer."
Tony waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, codenames keep things fun. Anyway, welcome. I heard you've been buddy-buddy with Web-Head here. Stopped the Sinister Six, apparently. That's no small feat. Come on, the rest are waiting in the lounge."
Albedo followed Tony and Spider-Man along a wide hallway, lined with more framed pictures of past Avengers lineups. He recognized Captain America in many of them, sometimes standing beside Iron Man, Thor, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and others. Each step made his heart pound more. This was the hub of heroism in the Marvel Universe, and he was about to be introduced as a potential ally.
They entered a spacious lounge area, with comfortable chairs, a modern fireplace, and large windows overlooking the Mansion's well-tended grounds. Albedo's eyes drifted across the gathering of heroes: Captain America stood near the mantel, hands folded behind his back, posture rigid yet calm. Black Widow lounged in a sleek chair, watchful. Thor towered by a window, wearing casual Earth clothes but still exuding an otherworldly aura. Hawkeye and Wanda Maximoff—also known as the Scarlet Witch—were further back, conversing in low tones.
Captain America stepped forward first, extending a gloved hand. "Spider-Man's told us quite a bit about you. I'm Steve Rogers, but call me Cap if you like. It's good to meet you, Grey Hero."
Albedo mustered a respectful nod and shook the man's hand. The grip was firm but not crushing, and he realized that behind the star-spangled uniform was a legendary figure with decades of experience. "Pleasure to meet you, Captain," Albedo said. "I'm honored to be here."
Black Widow gave him a once-over from her seat. "So you're the one who transforms into a giant dinosaur creature, among other things?" Her voice carried an amused edge.
Albedo couldn't help a small laugh. "Humungousaur, yeah, that's one of my forms. It's… effective."
Hawkeye smirked. "No kidding. I saw footage from that Sinister Six scuffle. Ripping Doc Ock's arms off the ground is definitely new."
The conversation moved quickly after that. Tony grabbed a bottled drink from a bar cart, offering Albedo one. Albedo declined politely—he was too jittery to attempt small talk with a buzz. Tony and Cap asked a few casual questions: how long he'd been active, how he ended up in New York, the scope of his powers. Albedo navigated carefully, framing his story as a newcomer with advanced technology and "unique shape-shifting abilities," gleaned from combined alien and Earth science. He omitted references to his original dimension or his old grudges. So far, no one seemed suspicious.
Wanda eyed him curiously, occasionally exchanging a glance with Black Widow. Possibly they were both reading his body language or, in Wanda's case, scanning him with her mystical senses. He tried to keep calm, projecting honesty without revealing dangerous secrets. Over the course of half an hour, as they all chatted, the mood lightened.
Thor eventually approached, having finished gazing out the window. "Spider-Man says you have shown great valor, friend. I would see your transformations one day, if you are willing. I delight in battles alongside mighty allies."
Albedo offered a faint grin. "I'd be happy to show you sometime, Thor. But maybe not indoors."
Thor chuckled heartily. "Aye, I appreciate your caution."
Soon, they migrated to an adjacent dining area, where a lavish spread had been laid out by the Mansion's support staff. The Avengers often ate together in a more casual setting, and apparently they wanted to extend that courtesy to Albedo. Tony insisted that Albedo help himself. Spider-Man, perched on a stool, joked about how the mansion's food was "worth every second of super-heroing." Captain America tried to maintain a respectful humility about it.
It felt surreal, being among them as if a close friend rather than a stranger. Albedo listened more than he talked, gleaning insights into their dynamic. Captain America exuded moral leadership, Tony Stark hammered out witty banter, Thor sprinkled in archaic Asgardian references, and Black Widow interjected the occasional wry remark that cut through the male bravado. Hawkeye and Wanda chimed in with quieter observations, though Albedo could sense Wanda watching him closely. Spider-Man alternated between comedic relief and genuine earnestness.
Eventually, Tony nudged Albedo for more details on his gear. "So that gauntlet you carry—it's not standard Wakandan or Stark tech. Where'd you learn to do that?"
"I studied various existing designs and combined them," Albedo said. "The baton, the grappling hook, the blaster—it's all modular. I call it the Proto-Tool Mark II. It's a concept from…some earlier prototypes I encountered. Then I modified it with Earth-based materials."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "I'd love to have a closer look sometime. Maybe you could stop by my lab in the Tower. I'm always curious about interesting tech. That is—if you're open to it."
Part of Albedo tensed at the idea of Tony Stark dissecting the Proto-Tool's code, possibly discovering its alien influences. But forging alliances meant trust. "Sure," he said smoothly. "I'd be happy to show you a baseline version. The source code might be a bit…unique, but I can at least demonstrate its functions."
"Deal," Tony said, clinking his glass of non-alcoholic beverage against Albedo's water.
They might have gone on trading notes about technology and heroics for hours, but then a subtle beep from the overhead intercom drew everyone's attention. A disembodied voice—likely from the Mansion's automated security—came on: "Priority news alert. This message is recommended for all Avengers. Patch through?"
Captain America frowned, stepping away from the table. "Yes, patch it through."
A screen on the nearby wall lit up, revealing a news broadcast. The camera footage was shaky and chaotic, showing the aftermath of a massive explosion in what appeared to be a suburban neighborhood—flames licking at destroyed homes, emergency vehicles swarming. The news anchor's voice trembled:
"—still unconfirmed, but it appears that an explosion in Stamford has taken the lives of dozens, possibly hundreds. Early reports indicate involvement of superpowered individuals. Witnesses claim a group of young heroes, possibly mutants, were in pursuit of criminals. Something went terribly wrong. We repeat—this may be a superhuman-related catastrophe. We await official confirmation—"
The Avengers fell silent, each exchanging grim looks. Wanda put a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Thor's brow furrowed with sorrow, while Tony's expression darkened with intense worry. Captain America inhaled sharply. "Stamford…that's not far from the city. This is serious."
Spider-Man set his plate down, voice tight. "I heard rumors about certain mutants taking a dangerous performance-enhancing drug. If that was related… this could be huge."
The broadcast continued, cutting to a scene of firefighters battling the inferno. Screams and smoke filled the background. Then the anchor reappeared, struggling to remain composed: "Breaking: We have confirmation that a teenage mutant, apparently hopped up on an illegal power-enhancing substance, triggered a blast that took out a city block. Officials are on the scene. The casualty list is rising. We—"
Tony clicked the display off, lips pressed into a thin line. "This is going to spark a frenzy. People have been on edge about superpowered accountability for ages, and something this tragic…they'll want answers."
Captain America nodded gravely. "We'll need to coordinate with local authorities. Start rescue efforts if needed, but also brace for the political fallout."
Black Widow rose, expression steeled. "I can contact S.H.I.E.L.D. See if they have any intel on the group involved."
Albedo, standing off to the side, felt a chill wash over him. He'd known about the tension around mutants and superpowered vigilantes, but he hadn't realized how one catastrophic event could ignite the powder keg. The Avengers were suddenly in crisis mode—gone was the casual camaraderie. They were professionals now, gearing up for a new wave of conflict.
Hawkeye grabbed his phone, presumably calling someone. Wanda stared numbly at the blank screen, and Thor's fists clenched at his sides. Spider-Man swallowed hard. "This is…this is the kind of tragedy that makes the public demand big changes, right? Like registration or something."
Tony nodded grimly. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of. The government's been hinting at a Superhuman Registration Act for months. Incidents like this give them all the ammo they need to push it through."
Albedo recalled hearing about the Civil War storyline from scattered references in local news. He'd pieced together that in Marvel's timeline, a major tragedy often spurred political efforts to register or regulate heroes. Now, he was watching it unfold, not as a distant rumor, but right in front of him. He felt powerless for a second. He'd only just begun forging relationships as a vigilante, and now the entire environment might shift into distrust and regulation.
Captain America turned to the group, voice steady. "All right, team, let's gather whatever intel we can. Thor, Widow, you two handle immediate communication with emergency services in Stamford. Tony, see if we can get a Quinjet in the air to assist local rescue efforts. Hawkeye, Wanda, you're with me—maybe we can set up a relief station if the city block is half gone. Spider-Man…" He hesitated. "We'll probably need you soon, but for now, stand by until we hear from local authorities. They might not want extra heroes running around the debris zone yet. It's a mess out there."
Spider-Man nodded solemnly. "Got it, Cap. You know how to reach me."
Finally, Cap turned to Albedo, expression apologetic. "I'm sorry you have to see us like this on your first real day among us. I know you're eager to help, but we might need to keep you on standby as well. We don't want to flood the area with unknown heroes—it could cause confusion, or even more panic. If you'd like to assist from behind the scenes, though, we wouldn't say no."
Albedo swallowed, then nodded. "Just tell me what you need. I'm not sure how best to help, but I can stand by."
"Thanks," Cap said. "This is going to be a long night."
With that, the Avengers scattered. Black Widow quickly left to find a secure line. Thor, face grim, strode out of the lounge, presumably heading to contact Asgardian allies or something similar. Tony was already making phone calls about the Quinjet. The energy in the mansion had shifted from relaxed hospitality to urgent crisis management.
Spider-Man rested a hand on Albedo's shoulder, expression sympathetic beneath the mask. "Hey, sorry about this. I know we wanted you to meet the Avengers in a calmer setting. But the universe rarely cooperates."
"I understand," Albedo said softly. "Is there anything specific I should do? My own advanced tech can handle some search-and-rescue. Or I can coordinate from a remote station."
Spider-Man thought for a moment. "Give it an hour or two. Let them sort out the immediate triage. If the casualty count is as high as we fear, they'll need all the help they can get, but it'll be chaotic. Maybe you can check with Tony or Cap in about an hour to see if they have tasks for you. Meanwhile, keep an eye on the news. If public sentiment starts going nuts, you might want to lay low."
Albedo's stomach knotted. Lay low… The idea that his newly minted hero persona might become a target of public anger, or government regulation, unsettled him. He recalled the catastrophic meltdown he'd caused in his old dimension, the moral condemnation he'd faced. Now, he was on the other side—trying to be a hero—yet the specter of mistrust was creeping in.
"All right," he said, "I'll wait in the mansion or nearby. Let me know."
Spider-Man nodded. "Good. I'll check in after I see if the police or the Avengers need me on site." He glanced around. "You'll be okay?"
"I'll be fine," Albedo assured him. "Focus on what you need to do."
Spider-Man gave him a quick thumbs-up, then darted away to find Captain America and coordinate. Albedo lingered in the lounge, now nearly empty, the aroma of untouched food from the dining table drifting through the air. Moments ago, they'd been joking about codenames, and now the world had changed.
Sighing, Albedo stepped up to the large windows that overlooked the manicured lawns of Avengers Mansion. A hush had fallen over the place, broken only by the distant hum of automated systems. He pulled out his phone, checking the news again. Footage from Stamford replayed in loops—a smoldering crater where a row of suburban houses once stood, frantic rescue crews picking through rubble. The death toll was rumored to be in the hundreds, many of them children from a nearby elementary school. Albedo's heart twisted. This was exactly the kind of tragedy that made the public question the ethics of heroes running around unregulated.
He remembered how, in his old dimension, his own destructive acts had nearly caused cataclysmic results. He'd been saved at the last moment, offered redemption. Now, seeing how easily one powered individual on a drug could level a block, he understood the fear that might surge among normal humans. If someone like him lost control or abused the Ultimatrix's transformations, entire cities could burn.
Quiet footsteps interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see Wanda, the Scarlet Witch, approaching. She wore a subdued expression, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes carried a tinge of guilt, as if she felt personally responsible for all superpowered disasters.
"I'm sorry about your introduction here," she said gently. "But it's good that you see how things can change in an instant. None of us are immune to public sentiment."
Albedo nodded, not entirely sure how to respond. Wanda stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I know you're new to all this, but I can sense you carry burdens from your past. If the world turns against us, that can weigh heavily. Just remember, you have allies who believe in you."
He blinked. Her powers, he recalled, included not just chaos magic but also a heightened sensitivity to mental or emotional auras, though not exactly telepathy. She might be picking up on the swirl of guilt and fear he felt.
"Thank you," he said softly. "I appreciate that. And I'll do my best to help, if I can. It's just…overwhelming."
Wanda offered a small, sad smile. "Believe me, I know about overwhelming." Then she glanced to the door. "If you need a place to sit or think, you're welcome to stay in the lounge. The Mansion staff knows you're a guest. But we might be in and out all night."
Albedo simply nodded, grateful for the gesture. Wanda patted his shoulder, then hurried off, presumably to join the others.
He found himself alone again, the overhead lights seeming too bright. Taking a seat on one of the plush armchairs, he let out a trembling breath and pulled up more coverage of the Stamford tragedy on his phone. Reporters were speculating about the identity of the mutant, describing how the young man apparently had a minor power of creating plasma bursts. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't be lethal. But with black-market "enhancer drugs" in his system, the plasma blasts had become nuclear in scale. The area was devastated. The word "terrorism" floated among some anchor commentary. Politicians were issuing statements demanding immediate reforms.
Over the next hour, Albedo remained in that chair, occasionally speaking with a staff member who offered him water or updates. He texted Rowan and a few other friends outside the hero community: Hope you're safe. Big tragedy in Stamford. Might see changes soon. The replies he got indicated shock and anger, talk of how "these freaks can't be trusted." That sentiment was rising on social media, too. Albedo shuddered at the realization that only a small portion of the population differentiated between "responsible heroes" and "reckless, untrained mutants." To many, all superpowered beings were the same.
Finally, Captain America and Spider-Man returned. The others were still coordinating rescue efforts or contacting the authorities, but Cap had come back for a quick update. His usual calm resolve looked shaken.
"How bad is it?" Albedo asked.
Cap lowered his gaze. "Worse than we hoped. Over six hundred casualties confirmed, with more missing. The city block is a crater. Footage is all over the news. People are outraged. The President, senators—everyone's calling for an emergency session. They want some kind of immediate legislative response."
Spider-Man rubbed the back of his neck. "Tony's heading out to talk with the mayor, figure out if the Avengers can do anything to quell the panic. Meanwhile, S.H.I.E.L.D. is on high alert. They might start rounding up known mutant enclaves, or at least monitoring them."
Albedo swallowed. "What can we do?"
Cap paced. "Right now, it's triage. Help with rescue if needed, but the first responders have it mostly covered. Next is damage control on a larger scale—public outreach, reminding everyone that not all heroes are ticking bombs. But I suspect the political wheels are already spinning toward something big, like a Superhuman Registration Act. If that passes, all heroes might be forced to reveal their identities and powers or face legal consequences. That never ends well."
"Are you saying it's unstoppable?" Albedo asked quietly.
Cap shook his head. "Not necessarily unstoppable, but once public fear escalates, the impetus for a law like that becomes very strong. It splits the hero community. Some will support registration, seeing it as a responsible way to keep everyone accountable. Others will oppose it, claiming it violates civil liberties and endangers loved ones. That rift can get ugly."
Spider-Man looked down at his gloved hands. "I might be caught in the middle. I have… personal reasons for wanting to keep my identity private. But if Mr. Stark, for instance, supports registration, I might be pressured to join him. This is bigger than I ever wanted."
Albedo felt for him. Spider-Man had always guarded his civilian life. This was exactly the sort of scenario that could tear that secrecy away. As for Albedo himself, he was already living behind multiple layers of lies—his vigilante persona was separate from the wealthy inventor identity, and neither told the whole truth about his origin. Registration would force him to choose: reveal everything, or become a fugitive. The thought chilled him.
Cap's phone buzzed. He checked it, then grimaced. "I have to join Tony for a briefing with some government reps. You two—be prepared. This might escalate quickly. Once news breaks that Congress is drafting legislation, lines will be drawn. Some heroes might rally to one side, others to the opposite. Just… don't make any hasty decisions."
Spider-Man nodded. "Understood."
Albedo gave a respectful nod, though anxiety churned in his stomach. "Thank you, Captain."
Cap left, footsteps echoing in the corridor. Spider-Man turned to Albedo, quiet tension in his stance. "I guess this is the point where I say, 'Welcome to the Avengers?' Not quite the scenario I pictured."
Albedo managed a wry smile. "No. I imagined more training sessions, fewer national crises."
They both lapsed into a contemplative silence. Albedo mulled over the possibility that the next few weeks could shape his entire future in this universe. If a registration act passed, would he stand with Iron Man, who might argue that accountability was necessary? Or side with Captain America, who historically championed individual freedom? The question was heavier than any he'd faced.
After another minute, Spider-Man exhaled. "I'm going to help Tony and Cap if I can. You're welcome to hang around, or you can head home. We'll call you if we need you physically at Stamford or anywhere else. Just be on standby. And… keep an eye on the news. This is about to get wild."
Albedo nodded. "I'll stay for a bit longer. See if anyone else needs help."
Spider-Man patted his shoulder. "Good man. We'll talk soon." Then he sprinted off, leaving Albedo alone again in the lounge.
The overhead lights hummed softly. Albedo sank back into the chair, gazing at the half-finished meal on the table. His appetite had vanished. He scrolled through more news updates: reporters interviewing grieving parents, speculating on whether the teenage mutant was part of some extremist group. Hashtags soared through social media, calling for #JusticeForStamford or #NoMoreHeroes. Politicians bickered on camera about "this out-of-control vigilante culture."
He closed his eyes. If he let the heartbreak in Stamford and the looming threat of legislation weigh too heavily, he might be paralyzed. But the Avengers had taught him that when a crisis hits, you step forward. He was part of this world now, for better or worse. Hiding was not an option.
At length, he rose, deciding to take a quiet walk around the Mansion's halls. Perhaps if he kept himself visible, someone would give him a small task—like coordinating supply drops or contacting medical teams. He wandered out of the lounge and down a hallway lined with framed photographs of past Avengers triumphs. In one, the team stood triumphant over an alien invasion, smiling for the camera. He wondered how many tragedies they'd also borne witness to that never made the triumphant frames.
He passed a room where Hawkeye was leaning over a large table with maps and notes, probably preparing to mobilize some Avengers-friendly paramedics to Stamford. Wanda hovered over his shoulder, pointing out possible resource routes. Albedo quietly offered to help, but they were so focused on their plan that they just nodded politely, instructing him to wait for Cap's final word. The Avengers' chain of command was clearly well established in emergencies, and as the new guy, Albedo wasn't going to barge in uninvited.
Eventually, he wound up at a balcony that opened to the Mansion's expansive gardens. Stepping out into the cool night air, he leaned on the stone railing, letting the city's distant rumble fill his ears. The reality of what had happened in Stamford weighed on him. He'd come here expecting to forge alliances, and he had—but at the cost of being thrust into a world about to ignite in civil conflict.
His phone vibrated. A quick check revealed a text from Rowan: Hey man, saw the news. People are freaking out. You good? Albedo typed a brief reply: I'm at Avengers Mansion. All safe. This is big. Rowan sent a supportive thumbs-up emoji, nothing more. But it eased Albedo's tension to know his friend was thinking of him.
He pocketed the phone. The Ultimatrix felt warm against his wrist under the suit, as though reminding him he still carried immense power. He pictured how easily a meltdown or overcharged transformation could replicate the horror of Stamford. Shaking off the dread, he reminded himself that he was no longer that reckless, revenge-driven figure. He had chosen a path of invention, of helping people. He had to cling to that decision.
Time crawled. An hour later, the Mansion's corridors echoed with the sounds of Avengers dashing in and out, conferring with each other. Albedo gleaned fragments of conversation about calls from the mayor, visits from S.H.I.E.L.D. He even heard Tony's voice carry from down the hall, heatedly debating with someone—possibly Cap—about how to respond to an immediate call from the press. The tension was thick enough to taste.
Eventually, Thor came to find Albedo on the balcony, his broad shoulders casting a shadow in the lamplight. "Friend, you may remain here tonight if you wish. We have guest quarters. Or you can depart. I suspect the night will yield little rest for us, but no immediate call for your direct action."
Albedo turned. "Thank you, Thor. I might stay a bit longer, see if they need me for anything. If not, I'll head home."
Thor nodded. "Very well. And worry not. We shall do our utmost to handle this tragedy with compassion and reason." He placed a comforting hand on Albedo's shoulder before striding off, his expression sober.
So Albedo waited. The hours inched by, and near midnight, the Mansion staff offered him a simple room if he wished to sleep there. But he felt too restless. Finally, around 1 AM, Spider-Man reappeared, looking exhausted. He slumped into the same lounge armchair Albedo had used earlier, rubbing his mask's eye lenses.
"The city's going nuts," Spider-Man said, voice muffled. "They want immediate arrests, stricter laws—some are even calling for the Avengers to be reined in. Tony's pushing for a calm approach, but, well, it might not be enough. This is the tipping point."
Albedo sank into a chair across from him. "What about Captain America?"
"He's about to give a statement urging unity, but you know how these things go. Once public fear sets in, politicians sense an opportunity. I overheard one senator basically saying they'll fast-track a Superhuman Registration Act. Could be weeks away, or less."
A cold weight settled in Albedo's gut. "And your identity…?"
Spider-Man exhaled. "Might have to reveal it if the law passes. Tony says that might help quell fear, to show that 'good guys have nothing to hide.' But for me, that means exposing my loved ones. And for you, the implications might be even worse." He gestured at Albedo's suit. "You're not exactly a known quantity. People will ask, 'Where'd you come from? What are your powers?' You comfortable telling the world that?"
"No," Albedo said quietly. "I'm not. And I'd prefer not to. Ever." He thought of the cosmic tribunal that had saved him from oblivion, the meltdown that nearly destroyed him and Vilgax. Explaining that he was a dimension-hopping clone of a different hero would sound insane—and also open him to cosmic scrutiny.
Spider-Man nodded. "Then we might have a conflict. Because if the law says all superpowered individuals must register, we'll be forced to choose sides. Some heroes will comply. Some will rebel. I'm… torn." He rubbed his forehead. "Look, maybe I'm dumping too much on you. This is your first day meeting the Avengers, and we're already talking about picking sides in a potential Civil War."
Albedo tried to keep his voice steady. "I'd rather know than be left in the dark. If everything goes downhill, I need to be prepared. I have… resources. I can try to create safe houses or come up with alternative solutions. But maybe it won't come to that."
A sad smile tugged at Spider-Man's lips behind the mask. "I admire your optimism. We'll do our best."
They lapsed into another silence. Outside, dawn was beginning to tint the sky a grayish hue. Avengers occasionally passed by the lounge, heading to and from war-room meetings. The energy in the Mansion was subdued, as if everyone knew they were standing on the brink of a historical shift.
Finally, around 5 AM, Tony Stark himself appeared, looking as if he'd spent the entire night in heated conferences. He greeted them with a weary nod. "Hey, kids. We just got word: the White House is drafting a statement about the Stamford tragedy. They'll likely propose a legislative framework within days. I wanted you both to hear it from me first: we may have an emergency Avengers assembly soon. We'll have to decide collectively how to handle the situation. But keep in mind, some of us might not see eye to eye."
Spider-Man rose. "So it's official then? Civil War is on the horizon?"
Tony's jaw tightened. "I'm not sure if 'Civil War' is the right label, but it's going to be big. The world's changed overnight. We need to handle this carefully, or we risk fracturing the hero community. Just… don't do anything rash, either of you. This is bigger than individual heroics now."
Albedo nodded slowly. "Understood."
Tony patted Albedo's shoulder. "Sorry to pull you into all this, Grey Hero. Not exactly the warm welcome I had planned."
Albedo tried for a polite grin. "I appreciate the honesty. If you need me…just call."
With that, Tony left, presumably to catch a few hours of rest or prepare for more calls. Spider-Man looked drained but determined. He gave Albedo a tired wave. "I'll see you around, GH. I need to head back and check in on my personal life. Try to get some sleep, or do whatever you need. We'll talk soon."
Albedo watched him depart. Then he slumped against the lounge wall, sliding down until he sat on the floor. The last twenty-four hours had taken him from a promising introduction to the Avengers to the precipice of a crisis that might reshape his entire reality here. He closed his eyes, letting the swirl of exhaustion and worry run through him. If he fell asleep, he might dream of home—of the meltdown that had once nearly destroyed him. But he no longer had that luxury of leaning into nightmares. He was here now, in the Marvel Universe, on the cusp of a superhuman Civil War.
Eventually, a kindly staff member found him, offering a small blanket and a suggestion of a guest room if he wanted to rest. Albedo mumbled thanks, accepting the blanket and rising unsteadily. He passed through quiet corridors to an empty guest suite, an elegantly furnished room that felt strangely sterile. Lying on the bed in full costume, he stared at the ceiling, numb.
Sometime after the sun had fully risen, he drifted into a fitful sleep, images of flaming rubble in Stamford merging with the memory of cosmic explosions. He dreamed of the White Hot Room, of Lady Death's solemn gaze, of Paradox urging him to use his second chance wisely. The line between hero and outcast felt perilously thin.
He woke around midday, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling. For a second, he forgot where he was, until the hush of advanced technology and the faint chatter from the hallway reminded him he was in Avengers Mansion. He sat up, adjusting his mask out of habit, then realized he could remove it if he wanted. No one was in the room. But he decided to keep it on—he still wasn't ready to reveal his face to any accidental visitors.
A quick check of his phone showed a flurry of missed news alerts: The White House had indeed announced that they were "fast-tracking legislation to ensure accountability among superpowered individuals." An official press conference was scheduled for that afternoon. The name "Superhuman Registration Act" was being thrown around by politicians and commentators. Polls showed a majority of the public supported some form of regulation, especially in light of the Stamford tragedy. Opponents labeled it an affront to civil liberties, a violation of personal freedom. Already, lines were being drawn.
Albedo sighed, setting the phone aside. This dimension was headed toward a crisis. Perhaps ironically, it mirrored the tension back in his old dimension between those who wanted the Omnitrix monitored and those who believed in personal freedom. That conflict had led to many battles. He feared this one might, too.
As he left the guest suite, he noted the hallway was quiet, though voices drifted from a conference room. He recognized Tony's tone, occasionally interspersed with Cap's deeper timbre. They seemed to be discussing strategy. Albedo decided not to intrude. Instead, he located a staffer who politely escorted him to the main foyer.
Before leaving, he asked if there was any final directive from the Avengers. The staffer shook her head, explaining that the team was locked in meeting mode, but that Albedo's contact info was on file. They'd reach out if needed. She also assured him that, as far as they were concerned, he was welcome at the Mansion anytime.
Touched by the courtesy, Albedo thanked her. Then he stepped outside into the crisp midday sun. The mansion's gates opened for him, and he walked out into a world that felt heavier than before. Crowds of reporters lingered at a distance, trying to catch glimpses of anyone coming or going. Albedo quickly used a back path, not wanting to be swarmed by cameras demanding to know who he was.
Safely out of sight, he engaged the Proto-Tool's camouflage function, letting it shift his suit to a mundane outfit. Then he blended into the streets, summoning a discreet ride service to take him home. It felt surreal, returning to his penthouse after a night of tense strategy sessions with Earth's Mightiest Heroes. But that was the nature of this double life.
For the next week, the world spiraled around the Stamford tragedy. Albedo watched it all unfold from multiple angles: as an ordinary citizen with a newscast on in the background; as a wealthy inventor receiving queries from philanthropic partners worried about the future of advanced technology; and as a vigilante, hearing from Spider-Man about how the hero community was dividing. Press coverage only escalated. The name "Civil War" began trending, a dramatic label that captured the sense of looming conflict. Government officials insisted they were simply trying to keep everyone safe, while certain heroes argued that mandatory registration was a slippery slope.
Albedo spoke with Spider-Man several times, usually through phone calls or masked rendezvous on rooftops. The web-slinger confided that Tony Stark was leaning toward supporting the legislation, hoping to shape it from the inside to minimize damage. Captain America, on the other hand, seemed to resent the idea of the government telling heroes how to operate. Rumors surfaced that Cap might lead an underground resistance if the Act became law. Tensions soared at Avengers Mansion.
Meanwhile, Albedo continued his nightly patrols quietly. Crime in certain neighborhoods spiked as criminals took advantage of the chaos—knowing the heroes were distracted by political issues. Albedo tried not to dwell on the possible ramifications for himself. If the law passed, he'd either have to register or become a fugitive. Registering meant revealing his identity, possibly undergoing scrutiny that could expose his dimension-hopping background. Could he trust the government with that information? He doubted it.
He also had the Fantastic Four's purifier project to manage. Reed Richards, while embroiled in the civil tensions, still arranged a demonstration of Albedo's new environment-cleaning device. The demonstration went well—several philanthropic organizations pledged funding to deploy the purifier in impoverished regions. Normally, that success would have thrilled Albedo, but overshadowing it all was the political storm. Even at the demonstration, reporters bombarded him with questions about his stance on the Registration Act. He deflected, claiming he was "just a scientist."
Spider-Man called him one afternoon with an urgent tone. "Tony wants me to meet him at Avengers Tower. He says they've made progress on a draft bill with the government. I… I'm nervous. He's been pushing me to reveal my identity publicly, saying it'll build trust."
Albedo's throat tightened. "But you've always guarded that secret. Are you sure that's wise?"
"I'm not sure of anything," Spider-Man admitted. "But Tony's done a lot for me. He's giving me new gear, financially supporting me. And if I sign onto his side, maybe I can help shape the Act into something less draconian. That's his pitch. That we can guide it from within."
"Captain America doesn't agree," Albedo said softly.
"No," Spider-Man muttered. "Cap sees forced unmasking as government overreach, a betrayal of the very freedoms heroes stand for. He's not backing down. People say he might go underground. Tony says that's reckless."
Albedo closed his eyes. "It's a terrible choice, forced on you by fear and politics. I'm sorry."
"It's bigger than me," Spider-Man said, voice trembling slightly. "I might have to pick a side soon. I just wanted you to know. You should be ready to choose, too. The day the Act goes into effect, we'll all have to decide."
Albedo had no immediate answer. They hung up soon after, tension heavy. For the rest of that day, he tinkered in his penthouse lab, trying to bury his worry in work. But the question gnawed at him: Which side would he stand with? If Tony Stark truly believed in a controlled approach, was that safer for Albedo's hidden truths? Or would standing with Captain America, championing freedom from forced registration, better align with Albedo's desire to keep his dimension secret?
Night after night, the city's atmosphere thickened. Demonstrations broke out—some in support of registration, some against. One evening, Albedo broke up a rowdy confrontation between pro- and anti-hero protestors near Times Square, dispersing them with minimal force. But tensions remained high. He saw hateful graffiti scrawled on walls: "No more mutants. No more vigilantes." The memory of Stamford had left an ugly scar on the public psyche.
Two weeks after his introduction to the Avengers, Albedo found himself once more at Avengers Mansion—this time by official request. An urgent summons from Tony Stark had come through, indicating they needed all available heroes for a major briefing. It felt like a final step before the storm. Albedo arrived via the teleporter device that Spider-Man had previously used, stepping into the foyer with a sense of grim anticipation.
The mansion bustled with costumed figures he recognized from news clips and cameo sightings: She-Hulk, War Machine, Ms. Marvel, even Daredevil. Some seemed uncomfortable being there, as though forced to pick a side or at least hear out Tony's plan. Captain America stood at the far end of the hall, arms crossed, brows furrowed. Opposite him, Tony Stark, wearing part of his Iron Man armor (minus the helmet), greeted arrivals. The tension between them was almost palpable.
When Albedo stepped in, Tony beckoned him over. "Glad you came. We're about to start. If you could join the group in the main briefing room?"
"Sure," Albedo said. He gave a nervous glance to Captain America, who offered a curt nod in return.
In the briefing room, more than two dozen heroes gathered around a large circular table. Spider-Man was there, seated near Tony, shoulders tight. On the opposite side, Hawkeye and Wanda stood near Cap, quietly talking. Thor hovered behind them, arms folded, his gaze flicking from one side to the other. Black Widow was absent—possibly on a mission. The atmosphere felt like a powder keg, waiting for a spark.
Tony cleared his throat. "All right, everyone, thanks for coming. I'll keep this short. We've just received word from the President's office. The Superhuman Registration Act is all but certain to pass next week. The formal name is the Superhuman Regulatory and Accountability Act. Under it, all individuals with powers or operating as heroes must register their abilities, identities, and undergo official training or oversight. Failure to comply will be illegal."
A murmur rippled through the room. Albedo felt his pulse quicken. He cast a glance at Spider-Man, who stared at the table.
Tony went on: "I know many of you have concerns. Hell, I do too. But the government's made it clear: we can't keep turning a blind eye to large-scale tragedies like Stamford. If we cooperate, we can shape the Act's implementation to ensure it's not abused. We'll have a seat at the table, a say in how heroes are deployed. If we resist, we risk being labeled criminals, hunted down by S.H.I.E.L.D. or worse. I believe compliance is the responsible path. That's why I plan to publicly support it, along with those who agree."
His gaze swept the room. Some, like Ms. Marvel and War Machine, nodded. Others, like Daredevil, wore deeply conflicted frowns. Tony continued, "I know not all of you agree. Captain America has expressed a different perspective. Cap, care to address the room?"
Captain America stepped forward, voice calm but resolute. "Thank you, Tony. Let me be clear: I don't deny the horror of Stamford. But I don't believe forcing every hero to register is the right solution. The Act compels us to reveal our identities to the government, risking our families and friends. It allows bureaucrats to decide when and how we respond to threats. That can be dangerous—imagine a scenario where we're ordered to ignore a crisis because it's 'not authorized.' Or a scenario where our personal data gets leaked, enabling villains to target our loved ones. I can't, in good conscience, support that. Our job is to protect people, not serve as government agents. So I plan to refuse registration. If that makes me an outlaw in their eyes, so be it."
A hush fell. Cap's words resonated with some, evidently. Others looked torn. Tony rubbed his temples. "Cap, we can't have heroes running around ignoring the law. That'll lead to more tragedies, not fewer."
Cap's jaw tightened. "I'd rather we remain free to act on principle and moral duty, not on a government leash. I'm not endorsing reckless heroism. But this Act goes too far."
The room erupted in a chaotic chorus of voices. Ms. Marvel raised a point about accountability. Daredevil brought up personal privacy rights. She-Hulk, a lawyer, mentioned possible constitutional challenges. Hawkeye paced, muttering that he saw merit on both sides. Wanda fiddled with her fingers, clearly distressed. Albedo stood by Spider-Man, feeling the tension almost suffocating.
Finally, Tony hammered his gloved fist on the table, restoring order. "Look, the Act will pass. Either we get on board and mitigate the damage, or we get steamrolled. I, for one, choose to get on board. Those who want to join me, remain in contact. We'll form a sanctioned team to continue hero work legally. Those who don't… I guess you'll have to go underground, or face arrest."
Captain America lifted his chin. "So be it. I urge any who share my convictions to stand with me. We'll find a way to operate outside this law, but we'll do so responsibly, as we always have."
With that, lines were drawn, figuratively if not literally. A few heroes—Ms. Marvel, War Machine, and a handful of others—moved closer to Tony's side. A smaller group migrated near Cap. Most, however, seemed uncertain, not ready to declare open allegiance. Spider-Man stayed put, glancing from Tony to Cap, pain in his posture. Albedo stood uncertainly near him.
Tony nodded. "Fine. We have a week to finalize positions. Once the Act goes live, I'll hold a press conference with any allied heroes. We'll reveal our identities, show the world we're complying, and hopefully quell the panic. That's the plan."
Cap pressed his lips together. "Then my allies and I will not attend that press conference, obviously. We'll begin preparing for what comes next."
Tony looked weary, as if this was the last outcome he wanted. "So it's come to this."
Cap simply nodded, then turned to walk out. Many heroes followed, some exchanging sad glances with Tony's group. Albedo watched them go, his heart heavy. This was indeed the start of a Civil War within the hero community. He could see it in the set of their shoulders, the sorrow in their eyes. Good people, forced into conflict by a law spurred by tragedy.
Once most had cleared out, Tony faced those who remained in the briefing room: Spider-Man, Albedo, Ms. Marvel, War Machine, Daredevil, a couple of others. Daredevil looked deeply conflicted. Ms. Marvel appeared resolute. War Machine set his jaw in silent agreement with Tony.
Tony sighed, focusing on Spider-Man. "I hope you'll stand with me, kid. But I won't force you. Just remember: if you come out publicly, it'll be a big statement. You can help calm fears. I'll protect you, financially and otherwise."
Spider-Man exhaled. "I appreciate that, Mr. Stark. I just… need a few days to think."
Tony nodded, then turned to Albedo. "And you, Grey Hero? We could use your support. If you show that you're willing to register, it might prove that even new, mysterious heroes can be accountable. That said, I understand if you're reluctant."
Albedo's mind whirled. He gazed at Tony's earnest expression. Then he imagined the cosmic fallout if he put his real identity—and dimension—on any official record. "I… I'm not sure. This is a huge step. Revealing my personal details might not even make sense to the government. And I worry about the watchers in my old life." He trailed off, not wanting to reveal too much.
Tony gave him a sympathetic look. "I get it. But we do need to choose soon. If you want to talk privately, let me know. For now, consider me your ally. But if you end up on Cap's side, I won't hold it against you. We're not enemies—just people with different views."
Albedo appreciated the rational stance. "Thank you. I'll let you know soon."
With that, Tony concluded the briefing, leaving Ms. Marvel and War Machine to finalize some details. Spider-Man, Daredevil, and Albedo exchanged glances. Daredevil quietly excused himself, stepping out with a haunted expression. The friction in the air was palpable.
"Want to grab some air?" Spider-Man asked Albedo softly. "I need to breathe."
Albedo nodded. They left the briefing room, passing through corridors that now felt suffocating with tension. Outside, they found a small courtyard near the Mansion gardens, where the late-afternoon sun cast long shadows. Spider-Man perched on a bench, removing his mask to rub his face. Albedo, mindful of cameras, kept his own mask on, but sat beside him. This was the first time he'd seen Peter Parker's face fully exposed—just a normal, tired young man, eyes filled with worry.
"This is insane," Peter said quietly. "Part of me sees Tony's point. Another part sees Cap's. They're both good men, wanting the best. But we're heading for a clash. I can't believe it."
Albedo stared at the neatly trimmed hedges. "It's the result of fear. People died horribly, and they want control. They can't see the nuance."
Peter nodded. "If I unmask, I might help show good faith. But…my family. My aunt." He buried his face in his hands. "And you—what about you? This registration means you'd have to share everything. Real name, address, powers. Are you prepared?"
Albedo took a shaky breath. "No. Not even close. My background is…complicated. And if the government thinks I'm a risk, they might try to detain me. Or replicate my transformations. Or worse." He thought of the Ultimatrix. "I can't let that fall into the wrong hands. We saw what just one mutant on drugs could do."
Peter clasped his hands together. "Then maybe you should stand with Cap, go underground if necessary."
Albedo gazed at the distant skyline. "That might be my only option. But I don't want to fight Tony, or you, or any of the heroes who choose registration."
Peter sighed. "Me neither. But if Tony wants me to unmask, and I do, I might be on a collision course with Cap and possibly you. I hate it."
They fell silent, the hush broken only by birds chirping in the trees. Albedo recognized that this was the heartbreak of civil war: good people forced onto opposing sides by circumstances beyond their control. He recalled how Lady Death had once told him redemption wasn't easy. Perhaps this was part of it—making an impossible choice in a moral crisis.
After a time, Peter replaced his mask, standing. "I guess we won't solve it all today. I need to get back to the city, figure out what Aunt May and my wife—uh, my family—think about all this. Talk soon?"
Albedo rose, nodding. "Yes. Good luck, Spider-Man."
They clasped hands in a quiet show of support, then parted ways. Albedo left the mansion, stepping out into a world on the brink of legalized division among heroes. The next few days would determine everything. If the Act passed, lines would be drawn. He'd have to pick a side: reveal himself to the government or become an outlaw. The choice weighed like an anchor around his neck.
He spent the next days preparing in both lives. As Albedo, the inventor, he concluded business deals that might be threatened by new legislation—some paranoid investors were already yanking funding from "vigilante-friendly" projects. He also quietly transferred some of his wealth into foreign accounts, just in case. As Grey Hero, the vigilante, he patrolled the city, hearing rumors of pro- and anti-registration heroes eyeing each other warily. The tension skyrocketed.
At night, he rarely slept more than a few hours. His dreams returned to the meltdown that had killed him once, the betrayal by Vilgax, and the White Hot Room's conditional second chance. In the dream, cosmic judges demanded that he reveal all or risk condemnation. He always awoke in a cold sweat.
Three days before the Act was scheduled to be voted into law, Tony Stark called an official press conference at Stark Tower. Spider-Man texted Albedo: I'm going to reveal my identity. Tony convinced me it's the right move. That message hammered Albedo's heart. Peter Parker was risking everything.
The next morning, the press conference took place. Albedo watched on live TV as Tony, wearing part of the Iron Man armor, stepped up to a podium. Ms. Marvel and War Machine flanked him, along with other pro-registration heroes. Then Spider-Man emerged, removing his mask in front of a sea of cameras, and introduced himself by his real name. Gasps and cheers rippled through the crowd. Albedo felt a jolt of sorrow, imagining the vulnerability this placed on the web-slinger. Tony then made a statement praising Spider-Man's courage, urging other heroes to follow suit. The lines were drawn deeper.
An hour later, Captain America appeared at a secret location on a rival broadcast. He denounced the act of forced unmasking, vowing to fight for heroes' freedoms, urging them not to give in. He criticized Tony for capitulating to fear. More heroes publicly sided with Cap, and some declared neutrality. The news labeled them "rebels." The wedge was hammered in place.
Albedo found himself paralyzed. He respected Tony's logic but shared Cap's distrust of forced registration. If he registered, he might expose cosmic secrets that could imperil him—and possibly imperil the entire dimension if the Ultimatrix were studied. If he refused, he became an outlaw. The meltdown in Stamford was an unspeakable tragedy, but forcing compliance might only breed further chaos.
On the eve of the Act's passing, Albedo sat in his penthouse workshop, the city lights twinkling through the panoramic windows. He'd removed his mask, letting the cool air brush his face. The Proto-Tool lay disassembled on a table, as if reflecting his fractured state of mind. Quietly, he moved the Ultimatrix dial, checking transformations. So much power at his fingertips, yet the politics of this new world threatened to overshadow everything.
As midnight approached, his phone buzzed with a message from Spider-Man: Wish me luck. This is it. Tony says we have a big mission soon: rounding up unregistered heroes. I feel sick.
Albedo closed his eyes. The fractures were turning into battle lines. Soon, Tony's team—now the official government-sanctioned Avengers—might be tasked with arresting Captain America's rebels. And if Albedo refused to register, they might come for him, too.
He typed a reply: Stay safe. I haven't decided yet, but I might go under the radar for a while. Let's not be enemies.
Spider-Man's response came quickly: Never enemies. I'm just…trapped. Sorry.
Albedo inhaled sharply, setting the phone aside. Outside, sirens wailed in the distance. Tomorrow, or the next day, Congress would finalize the act. The Civil War would begin in earnest. He remembered the White Hot Room again, cosmic powers telling him to find redemption, to use his second chance wisely. Redemption could mean many things, but did it include defying a law that threatened freedoms? Or obeying it to maintain peace?
He stared into the city's endless sprawl, heart heavy. Whichever choice he made, the repercussions would be enormous. Yet he couldn't remain neutral forever. Sooner or later, each hero would have to stand up, reveal themselves, or fight. The question was: which side would Albedo choose when the ultimatum arrived?
He placed a hand on the Ultimatrix, whispering, "One step at a time." The device's faint hum seemed to echo in the quiet workshop. Tomorrow, the world would change. And Albedo would have to decide how he fit into this new order, even if it meant risking everything he'd built in this dimension.
He closed his eyes, letting exhaustion take him for a moment. The city gleamed behind him, poised on the brink of a Civil War that none of them could stop. And somewhere among the glimmering lights, a single watch-wielding vigilante braced himself for the hardest choice of his new life.
.