Location: Siberian Borderlands – Dawn
The portal behind the Ancient One closed in a flicker of sparks, sealing the frozen moment like stitching over a wound. Hann stood still in the biting wind, his cloak rippling, the staff pressed into the snow. Azari was silent beside him, eyes narrowed, trying to process what they'd just heard.
"You're saying this rift—what we saw in the projection—it's not just some future event?" Hann asked slowly.
The Ancient One nodded. "It is already forming. Quietly. Slowly. Like frost creeping beneath a sealed door. But it does not announce itself. Not yet. He"—her voice darkened—"is not ready to show his face."
"Kang," Hann whispered.
She tilted her head. "You speak his name like it's a whisper. It should be a curse."
Azari crossed her arms. "You said we need to gather others. But who exactly? The Avengers? They're… not exactly united these days."
"I'm not talking about the old guard," the Ancient One said. "They will play their parts soon enough. But this world doesn't just need warriors. It needs architects of the future."
She stepped forward and held out a ring—a sling ring.
"Your time is short. Your bloodline draws attention. There are others who carry the seeds of change—scientists, mystics, broken weapons, forgotten heirs. You must find them… before he does."
She paused.
"There is one you must speak to first. In New York."
A shimmering portal opened again, revealing the shadowed skyline of the Sanctum Sanctorum.
---
Location: New York City – Sanctum Sanctorum
The world outside buzzed with its usual rhythm—cars honking, lights flashing, a city pretending it understood itself. Inside the ancient, angular halls of the Sanctum, silence ruled. Hann stepped through the portal and immediately felt the difference. The walls here breathed.
Dr. Stephen Strange stood at the center, hands behind his back, cloak coiled like a serpent around his shoulders. He turned before Hann could speak.
"You're the one with the rings," he said dryly. "And the staff that shouldn't exist."
Hann raised an eyebrow. "And you're the one with the ego that walks into a room five seconds before you do."
Strange smirked despite himself. "I like you already."
Azari stayed near the door, arms crossed.
The Sorcerer Supreme waved his hand and summoned a three-dimensional projection—a slowly turning sphere of Earth, threaded with glowing ley lines.
"This," he said, "is what the Ancient One left me. A warning."
Hann approached. The projection zoomed in on intersecting points: one over Wakanda, one over the Arctic, one in the South China Sea, and a new one blinking just west of India.
"These places are… awakening," Strange said. "Old magic. Dormant tech. Colliding bloodlines."
He turned to Hann. "You're one of the epicenters."
"And you're just now figuring that out?"
"I figured it out when the Cloak of Levitation tried to sneak into your pocket the second you arrived."
The Cloak hovered nearby, flapping once in protest.
Strange moved to a small shelf and pulled out a sealed scroll.
"This belonged to one of our lost mystics—he disappeared before the Sokovia Accords ever came into play. Claimed he foresaw a being with a soul older than time wielding a staff older than gods."
He handed it to Hann.
Inside, written in Sanskrit and old Mandarin, was an illustration of the very staff he now carried.
"I didn't find that in Kamar-Taj," Hann murmured. "I found it in Russia. It… called me."
"And now it's calling others," Strange said. "There's someone else in America—young, gifted, and dangerously unsupervised. The Ancient One said you'd recognize her when the time came."
Hann narrowed his eyes. "Riri?"
Strange nodded.
"She's being monitored. Not just by us. By people who want her designs for weapons, not salvation. You should go. Now."
Before Hann could respond, the Time Stone flickered in its housing behind Strange.
Both men turned.
"…What was that?" Azari said.
Strange's voice dropped. "A ripple. Something just changed."
He glanced toward the window. Far off in the night sky, a comet streaked across the clouds. But it wasn't ice or rock.
It was metal. And it wasn't from Earth.
"I've seen this before," Strange murmured. "But not yet."
He turned back to Hann. "You need to move faster."
---
Location: Cambridge, Massachusetts – MIT Underground
Riri Williams stood over a prototype exo-suit, her eyes bloodshot from hours of sleepless testing. Her fingers tapped at a half-functional arc reactor core—her own version, smaller than Stark's, and more adaptive.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number. Blocked ID. She ignored it.
Then the wall behind her hummed.
A golden ring of sparks opened—and Hann stepped through.
"Hey," he said.
She whirled around, grabbing the nearest wrench. "What the hell?! Who are you?!"
"I'm the guy who's about to help you avoid getting kidnapped, disavowed, or assassinated in the next 48 hours," Hann said, stepping fully into the room. "I'm not from the government. I'm not from SHIELD. I'm from the future. Sort of."
Azari stepped through behind him.
"I'm out," Riri said, throwing the wrench at him. He caught it, again.
"Look—I know your suit design. Version 3.4 had a faulty inertia balancer. And the material you're using for your pulse coils? Switch it to nano-flex graphene with a liquid vibranium primer."
Riri stared at him.
"…Who are you?"
"A survivor," Hann said, stepping closer. "Someone who's seen what happens when the right people don't meet in time. You can build. I can fight. Together, we can shape something better."
"And if I say no?"
He shrugged. "You're going to say yes. Because I know you're not building that suit to impress your professors. You're building it for when they come."
She hesitated.
"…Who's 'they'?"
A shadow moved across the lab's overhead skylight. For a second, the moonlight darkened.
"People who collect brilliance," Hann said. "And erase it."
---
Location: Upper Atmosphere – Seconds Later
Above them, a sleek black ship hovered—unseen by radar. Inside, shadowed figures watched Hann and Riri's heat signatures through a scope.
"He's recruiting," one figure said.
"Not for the Avengers," another replied. "Something new."
A third voice crackled over the comms: "Echo Squad—prepare to engage."
---
To Be Continued in Chapter 12: "Ambush at Altitude"