The control room was quiet, the overnight shift a low murmur of routine monitoring. Then a console beeped.

A technician frowned, adjusting his headset. Static crackled through the speakers. Then the video feed flickered to life.

A face appeared on the main screen. Y/n Stark.

The room went silent.

Y/n sat at a makeshift workstation, surrounded by equipment, notes, samples, and half-disassembled machinery. They looked completely fine. A little tired, maybe. Mostly annoyed.

Y/n Stark was alive.

And they were not alone in the universe.