The smell of garlic and rosemary hit us the second we stepped through the front door. The townhouse felt even more like a fortress of comfort than it had this morning. My mom was in the kitchen, humming along to a radio playing some soft jazz, looking every bit the successful architect who actually found time to enjoy life.
"You two are late," she said, though the smile on her face took the sting out of it. "And let me guess—you stopped for burgers, didn't you?"
"Guilty," Dad said, raising his hands in surrender. "But in my defense, the kid earned it. He survived an hour in a room with a caffeinated Tony Stark."
Mom paused, her wooden spoon mid-air. "An hour? And you're still in one piece, Julian?"
"I think I actually gave him a headache for once," I joked, hopping onto a barstool.
Dinner was a far cry from the lukewarm instant noodles I used to eat in my university dorm. We sat around a heavy oak table, the candlelight flickering against the silver. It was the kind of scene I'd only watched in movies back in 2026. For an orphan, this wasn't just dinner; it was a core memory being built in real-time.
"So," I said, leaning forward after clearing my plate. "I've been thinking. About the computer stuff."
My parents exchanged a look—half-amused, half-intrigued. "Go on, Jules," Mom encouraged.
"I want to build a game," I said, my voice gaining confidence. "Not just a little 'snake' clone. I want to build a full 3D engine. The kind of tech Tony and I were messing with today? It's the future. If I can get it right, I can start a company. I want to call it Nexus."
Dad chuckled, but it wasn't dismissive. "A company? You're twelve, son. Most kids your age are worried about making the junior high basketball team."
"I'm not most kids, Dad," I said with a cheeky grin. "Think about it. The hardware is finally catching up to the math. If I start now, by the time I'm eighteen, I won't just be looking for a job—I'll be the one hiring."
Mom reached over and squeezed my hand. "We believe in you, Julian. If you need the equipment, or if you need us to look over the legal side of things... we're here. Just don't forget to do your math homework, okay?"
"Deal," I laughed.
Later that night, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the New York streetlights filtering through the curtains.
My mind was a whirlwind. My 18-year-old brain was firing on all cylinders, cataloging every piece of 2026 knowledge I had. Architecture, urban planning, the history of the next thirty years... and the "Script."
I knew what was coming. I knew about the 10-ring organization, the frozen super-soldier in the ice, and the silent threat of HYDRA growing inside the government.
I can't just be an architect, I realized. A building is only as strong as the world it stands in.
I didn't have a "system" or superpowers—at least, none that I knew of. But I had something better. I had a head start. I had the trust of the future Iron Man. And I had a family that actually loved me.
I closed my eyes, visualizing the first set of blueprints. Not for a house, but for a piece of software that would change the world.
"Nexus," I whispered into the quiet room.
The future was messy, dangerous, and filled with gods and monsters. But as I drifted off to sleep, I wasn't afraid. I was an architect from 2026, and I was going to make sure the foundation of this timeline was reinforced with something stronger than steel.