Darkness. Deafening, impenetrable, as if the entire universe had frozen. Then a crash—metallic, tearing, as the ship he was in smashed into the hard, earthly soil. He didn't remember who he was before. He didn't remember anything, only chaos and fire. When he opened his eyes, he lay in a crater, surrounded by smoke and the wreckage of alien technology. He had the body of a child, maybe five years old, though flickers of images and feelings he couldn't name lingered in his mind.
Tori and Kyle Breyer weren't young. Their farm in Kansas, surrounded by cornfields, had been quiet for years—too quiet. They had no children, though they'd always dreamed of them. That night, when the sky lit up with a blaze and the ground trembled, Kyle leapt out of bed, thinking it was a storm. But Tori, standing by the window, saw something else—a streak of light that plummeted into the woods near their home.
"Kyle, that's no storm," she whispered, gripping his arm.
"It's… something else." They didn't hesitate long. In their old pickup, they drove toward the woods. They found a crater, and in it—a child. Naked, confused, with eyes that seemed to see more than they should. Tori, heedless of the smoke and heat, climbed down and took the boy into her arms.
"He's alive, Kyle," she said, her voice trembling.
"He's… he's ours." Kyle looked at his wife, then at the child. He didn't ask where it came from. He didn't want to know. Maybe it was a gift, maybe a miracle. Or maybe something else entirely.
"We'll call him Brandon," he said softly.
Seven years later, Brandon Breyer sat on the couch in the living room, staring at the screen of an old television. Tori was busy in the kitchen, and Kyle, as usual, was going over bills at the table. On the screen, a news report played about a battle in New York—Iron Man, and Captain America facing some cosmic threat. Brandon frowned. Something about the story felt… familiar. Too familiar.
"Mom, Dad, come here!" he called, not taking his eyes off the screen.Tori wiped her hands on her apron and walked over, while Kyle, with a sigh, set his papers aside.
"What's wrong, Brandon?" Tori asked, sitting beside him.
"This… this is real, isn't it?" Brandon pointed at the screen.
"The Avengers… they exist?"
Kyle chuckled softly.
"Well, son, the world's full of strange things. Ever since that Stark guy started flying around in his suit, nothing surprises me."
Brandon didn't answer. His mind was racing. The images on TV—heroes, villains, cosmic battles—stirred an odd feeling in him. Like he already knew them. Like he knew this wasn't his world. Or… that it was, but it shouldn't be.
"Brandon, you okay?"
Tori placed a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was warm but laced with concern.
"Yeah, just…" He hesitated.
"Do you think people can have powers? Like them?" Kyle raised an eyebrow.
"What? You want to be a superhero?" Brandon gave a faint smile, but something flickered in his eyes that his parents didn't catch.
Over time, Brandon began to notice he wasn't like others. It started with small things. When he was eight, he accidentally lifted Kyle's tractor while trying to get a ball from under its wheel. He thought it was normal until he saw his father's face—half terrified, half astonished.
"Brandon, how'd you do that?" Kyle asked, standing in the barn doorway.The boy shrugged, still holding the tractor over his head.
"I don't know, Dad. I just… lifted it." Tori, who'd come running at Kyle's shouts, pressed a hand to her mouth.
"Kyle, he's… he's different," she whispered. That evening, they sat together at the table. Brandon looked at his parents, unsure what to say. Finally, Tori broke the silence.
"Brandon, sweetheart, you have to tell us if something's going on. Anything. We're your family." The boy swallowed hard.
"Sometimes… I feel like there's something in me. Something big. When I run, I'm faster than everyone at school. And I see things others don't. I hear things too. Like… I can hear the neighbor mowing his lawn, even though he's five miles away.
Kyle glanced at Tori, then back at Brandon.
"Son, do you remember how we found you?" Brandon nodded. He'd heard the story many times—about the night he crashed in the woods, about how Tori and Kyle took him home.
"We found you in something that looked like a ship," Kyle continued.
"Not from this world. We don't know where you came from, but… you're ours. You always will be.
"Brandon felt warmth in his chest. He loved them. They were his home. But deep down, he also felt fear. What if he wasn't who they thought he was?
Over the next few years, Brandon discovered more. At ten, he realized he could make objects float in the air. Once, playing in the barn, he lifted an entire bale of hay without touching it. Another time, when he was angry at a kid at school, the boy suddenly got scared for no reason. Most terrifying was when he accidentally looked at an old shed, and red beams shot from his eyes, setting the wood ablaze.
"Mom, Dad, I need to tell you something," he said one evening when he was eleven. They were sitting on the porch, watching the stars.Tori set down her glass of lemonade.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Brandon clenched his hands on his knees.
"I… I'm not normal. I can do things. Weird things. I can fly. I can set things on fire with my eyes. And… sometimes I feel like something in me wants… wants to be bigger. Stronger." Kyle leaned forward, frowning.
"Brandon, whatever it is, we'll figure it out. Together."
"But what if I'm bad?" Brandon blurted out.
"You're not bad," Tori said firmly, grabbing his hand.
"You're our Brandon. And whatever's in you, we'll learn to control it. I promise." Brandon looked at her, then at Kyle. In their eyes, he saw love, but also a hint of worry. He knew they loved him. But would they still love him when they learned who he really was?
By the time Brandon was twelve, his life was split. On one hand, he was a normal kid—going to school, helping on the farm, laughing at Kyle's jokes. On the other, he felt he was something more. Something he didn't understand. His powers grew. He could now fly high above the fields, see through walls, and once, when he crashed his bike, his skin didn't even scratch.That night, sitting on the barn roof, he looked at the stars. His mind was a storm of thoughts. Who was he? Where did he come from? And why did he feel that something inside him—something dark—sometimes whispered to let everything go?
"Brandon?" Tori's voice came from below. She stood in the yard, holding a flashlight. "What are you doing up there, sweetheart?" The boy smiled faintly.
"Thinking, Mom." Tori climbed the ladder and sat beside him.
"About what?" Brandon hesitated.
"About who I am. And what happens next." Tori put her arm around him.
"Whoever you are, Brandon, you'll always be our son. And we'll always be here for you." The boy rested his head on her shoulder. He wanted to believe it. But deep down, he felt his story was only beginning—and it wouldn't be simple.