The glow from the pod had long faded, but the buzz it left in their heads still lingered. Max, Alex, and Sierra stood in the middle of the junkyard like they'd just stepped out of a dream—and maybe they had.
"Okay," Max said, breaking the silence, "this... this changes everything. We can't just pretend none of this happened. We need a plan."
"First plan: not pass out from exhaustion," Alex muttered, rubbing his temples.
"Agreed," Sierra said. "Let's regroup tomorrow. Same place."
"What time?" Max asked immediately. "Let's meet early. Like 8 a.m. sharp. We have so much to go over."
Alex threw him a look. "8 a.m.? On a school day?"
"Bunk one day," Max said with a shrug. "It's not like anything's going to explode if you miss algebra."
"It's not just algebra. It's, like, the whole day of school. You know, life."
Sierra nodded slowly. "I can't skip. Tomorrow's my first official day. New school, new people. My dad would flip if I bailed."
Max groaned dramatically, throwing his arms in the air. "You two are so... normal."
"That's kind of the goal, Max," Alex said dryly.
After a few more minutes of half-serious arguing, they compromised.
"Okay, fine. Three o'clock," Max conceded. "But don't be late. I'll be standing here with a pocket lab and zero patience."
They exchanged numbers, jotted down contact info, and took a moment to look at each other—still unsure what exactly they were now. Friends? Allies? Something in between?
And then they split.
Max's House
Max reached his front door just as the porch light blinked on. The moment he stepped inside—
"MAXWELL ELIJAH PARKER!"
His mom's voice cracked like a whip from the kitchen.
She stood in her worn apron, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Behind her, dinner sat untouched on the table.
"Do you have any idea what time it is? Where were you?!"
Max, still dazed, held up his hands. "I—junkyard. Kind of. Also, dimension travel. Maybe."
"Try again. In English."
Max opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. He was too tired to make something up, too stunned to explain the truth. So he did something rare.
He said nothing.
His mom's anger flickered. She looked at him again—his dirt-smeared hoodie, the slump of his shoulders, the faint tremble in his hands.
Something in her softened.
"Go clean up," she said gently. "We'll talk tomorrow."
He nodded and walked past her silently.
She watched him go, frowning. It was unlike Max to not argue. That worried her more than anything.
Upstairs, Max dumped his bag, collapsed face-first onto the bed, and groaned into his pillow.
Unseen, a swarm of micro-nanobots had clung to the edge of his backpack during the chaos. Now, they shimmered faintly in the dim light as they crawled onto his skin, slipping through fabric and pores.
They bonded—quickly, silently.
The Extremis nanite network rewrote Max's cellular responses, boosting his cognitive pathways, sharpening his senses, even reinforcing muscle fibers at the subdermal level.
Max's heart rate slowed as his body relaxed.
He didn't notice the flicker of golden-red light beneath his skin.
Alex's House
The front door creaked open.
Inside, the TV flickered on mute. The scent of reheated spaghetti filled the air. His mom lay curled on the couch, one hand resting on a plate of covered food.
She stirred when she heard him.
"Alex?"
He paused in the doorway. She blinked, smiled through her exhaustion, and sat up.
"You're late. But I waited. Come sit. Eat."
He swallowed a lump in his throat and walked over. The table had two plates, carefully divided portions of spaghetti, and garlic bread.
She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Rough day?"
Alex hesitated. "Yeah. Sort of broke up with Jenna."
His mother blinked. "Oh, sweetheart. I know you liked her."
He sat down, picking at the food. "I did. But I think she just liked someone else's wallet more."
She gave him a tired but fierce look. "Then she wasn't worth your time."
He nodded. "I guess."
They ate quietly. Then he added, more softly, "But I met some people today. Kind of weird. But maybe... they could be friends."
His mom's smile returned. "Then it wasn't such a bad day after all."
After dishes were done and the lights were turned down, Alex lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
In the corner of the room, a thin tendril of shimmering white began to snake from his shoe.
The symbiote, barely conscious, clung to his DNA, threading itself between muscle and bone. Enhancing. Altering. Merging.
By morning, his strength would no longer be ordinary.
Sierra's House
The front door opened with a loud click.
"Sierra!" her father barked from the hallway. "Where have you been?"
She winced.
Her mom joined in, frowning. "You can't disappear like that! Not in a new city. Not when we don't know anyone."
"I know, I know. I just... lost track of time."
There was a pause.
Her father sighed. Her mother softened. "We overreacted. It's just… we were worried. It's a new city. You're still settling in."
Sierra's shoulders dropped. "I get it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you freak out."
They exchanged weary smiles, and her dad gestured toward the dining table.
"Let's eat. Before your mom tries to guilt-trip you into moving back."
They laughed.
Dinner was warm. Light. The tension evaporated. They joked about their old neighborhood, her dad's awful driving, and the time Sierra fell into a fountain during a school trip.
Later, tucked in bed, Sierra stared at her ceiling.
Something inside her tingled.
The crystal that had brushed her earlier had unknowingly bonded to her DNA. It moved through her, subtle but profound—awakening dormant potential.
Cells aligned in new patterns. Nerve signals sharpened. Something ancient stirred in her blood.
Sierra didn't know what tomorrow held as the sleep took over her exhaustion and tiredness of the day.
And so, under three different rooftops, three teenagers slept.
All of them touched by something extraordinary.
And all of them completely unaware… that the real journey had just begun.