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**Scene 1: The Storm Beneath**
*Antarctica, July 2007*
Nick Fury's breath fogged the air inside his thermal mask. The blizzard outside screamed like a living thing, clawing at the reinforced walls of SHIELD's mobile research station. On the monitor in front of him, a seismic scan flickered—a structure of unknown alloy, buried two miles down, humming with energy that made the Geiger counters weep static.
*"Stark was right,"* muttered Agent Sitwell, squinting at Howard Stark's 1948 journal entry projected on the wall. *"Said he found a metal here that 'defied periodic table logic.' Called it *Promethium.***
Fury grunted. Howard's notes were half-mad ramblings, but the old man's hunches had a way of biting you in the ass. *"Prep the drill. We're going in."*
Six hours later, the team breached the chamber.
It wasn't a cave. It was a *cathedral*. Walls of shimmering crystal arced into a dome, refracting light into hues no human eye had names for. At its center, suspended in a column of liquid gold, floated a boy. No older than five, his dark curls haloed by drifting sparks, his skin glowing faintly as if moonlight swam beneath it.
*"Christ,"* breathed Agent Ramirez, lowering his rifle. *"Is he… breathing?"*
Fury stepped closer. The boy's eyelids fluttered—dreaming. *"Get Foster on the line. And Carter. Now.*"
Ramirez reached out, gloved fingers brushing the golden column.
The boy's eyes snapped open.
Two beams of crimson light lanced out, vaporizing Ramirez's rifle into molten slag. The agent stumbled back, screaming, as Fury tackled him behind a crystal outcrop.
*"Hold your fire!"* Fury barked, though no one had dared shoot. The boy thrashed in his golden prison, tiny fists sparking like flint against steel.
Over the radio, Peggy Carter's voice crackled. *"Nicholas? What's happened?"*
Fury watched the child's panicked tears sizzle against the chamber floor. *"We've got a live one."*
---
**Scene 2: The House of Glass**
*SHIELD Facility "Lighthouse," December 2008*
Adam—they'd named him after the journal's margin scribble (*"Adamant = Unbreakable?"*)—hated the windows.
The room was a lie. A perfect suburban bedroom: blue race-car sheets, a shelf of untouched stuffed animals, sunlight streaming through lace curtains. But the sunlight was LEDs, the breeze a hidden vent, the "windows" 10-inch reinforced glass. Dr. Jane Foster called it *"a transitional environment."* Adam called it *cold*.
He pressed his palm to the glass, watching frost bloom under his touch. *Too hard.* The pane cracked, spiderwebbing silently.
*"Whoops,"* he whispered, yanking his hand back. His voice, unused for months, still startled him.
The door hissed open. Fury strode in, a dossier under his arm, followed by Dr. Foster and a silver-haired woman in a woolen trench coat. Adam tensed. The woman smelled like gunpowder and jasmine.
*"Good afternoon, Adam,"* said Dr. Foster, forcing a smile. *"This is Director Carter. She'd like to ask you a few—"*
*"Why?"* Adam interrupted, staring at Peggy.
Fury raised an eyebrow. *"Kid's been mute for a year, and *that's* his first word?"*
Peggy knelt, ignoring the creak in her knees. *"Why what, darling?"*
Adam pointed at the cracked window. *"Why do you keep me in a box?"*
Peggy's gaze softened. *"Because the world isn't ready for what you are."*
*"And what's that?"*
Fury tossed the dossier on the bed. Photos spilled out: the Antarctic chamber, Ramirez's ruined rifle, a fetal scan showing DNA strands coiled like nebulas. *"A miracle. And a time bomb."*
Adam's fingers brushed the photos. The paper browned and crumbled at his touch.
*"Control,"* Fury said, looming over him. *"That's your first lesson. Second is trust. You don't take orders, people die. Understood?"*
Peggy shot Fury a withering look. *"He's a child, Nicholas. Not a soldier."*
*"He's both,"* Fury said, and left.
---
**Scene 3: Lessons in the Dark**
*Lighthouse Training Wing, March 2009*
The storm raged inside the chamber, artificial lightning fracturing the air. Adam hovered 30 feet up, giggling as the currents danced around him.
*"Higher!"* he shouted, zooming toward the ceiling.
*"Get down!"* Fury barked from the observation deck.
A bolt struck Adam's chest. For a heartbeat, his entire skeleton glowed electric blue. Then he plummeted, screaming, and cratered the concrete floor.
Dr. Foster lunged for the intercom. *"Medical team, now—!"*
*"Wait,"* Fury said.
The dust cleared. Adam sat in the rubble, unharmed, clutching his knees. His tears left tiny craters in the floor.
*"I want to go home,"* he whispered.
*"You *are* home,"* Fury said. *"Again."*
---
Later, Peggy found him in the library, a demolished copy of *The Odyssey* in his lap.
*"Fury's a prickly old bastard,"* she said, handing Adam a licorice stick. *"But he's right. You need to learn control."*
*"Why?"* Adam snapped. *"I didn't ask for this!"*
Peggy tapped the book's cover. *"Odysseus didn't ask for monsters either. But he learned to outthink them."* She leaned closer. *"Your power isn't your strength, Adam. It's your choices."*
He unwrapped the licorice, sniffed it, and recoiled. *"This tastes like burnt tires."*
Peggy laughed—a warm, rasping sound. *"First *real* thing you've said all day."*
---
**Scene 4: The Breaking Point**
*Lighthouse Facility, November 2010*
The alarms wailed at 2:17 a.m.
Adam jolted awake, his enhanced hearing catching the whispers before the guards did.
*"—override the eastern grid—"*
*"—specimen in Sector 7—"*
HYDRA.
He phased through the floor, emerging in the hallway. Agents in black tactical gear froze, their rifles aimed at a cowering janitor.
*"Don't,"* Adam said, his voice shaking.
The lead agent smirked. *"Lookie here, boys. The puppy's off his leash."*
Adam's vision sharpened—microscopic, then subatomic. He saw the carbon in their vests, the oxygen in their lungs. *Focus. Control.*
A HYDRA agent fired.
The bullet disintegrated an inch from Adam's forehead.
*"I said *DON'T!** he screamed.
The shockwave blew out every light in the complex.
---
Chaos.
Concrete rained from the ceiling as Adam darted through collapsing halls, heat vision slicing door seals. Somewhere, Dr. Foster was trapped. *His fault. His fault.*
He found her pinned under a beam, blood matting her hair.
*"Adam, don't—!"* she gasped.
He grabbed the beam. It crumbled to sand in his hands.
*Too much. Always too much.*
Fury appeared in the doorway, clutching his bleeding left eye. *"You just had to play hero, huh?"*
Adam reached for him. *"I can fix it! Let me—"*
*"NO."* Fury grabbed his wrist, hard. *"You wanna help? *Listen* next time."*
---
In the infirmary, Adam pressed his palm to the cracked window. Beyond it, the first snow of December fell.
*"I'm sorry,"* he whispered.
The glass healed itself under his touch.
---
**Epilogue**
Far below the Lighthouse, in a vault even Fury didn't know existed, the shard of Kryptonian crystal hummed. Waiting.
*Soon*, it seemed to say.
*Soon.*