Rain hammered the sloped glass roof of the lab as Paradox adjusted the spectromagnetic clamps on the gravity cradle. He didn't look up. Didn't need to. He could hear Ivy humming somewhere in the greenhouse chamber, her voice flowing through the biosynthetic veins of the facility like a second heartbeat. The lab had grown quiet since the last experiment—too quiet. That meant something was going to explode.
Again.
Axiom trotted past his leg, blinking holographic glyphs that spelled out: "Two minutes until temporal stasis destabilizes."
"Tell the stasis core to take a deep breath and hold it," Paradox muttered, sliding the final circuit board into the cradle. The lights flared blue, then calmed to a soft pulsating white. Good. Stability was holding this time.
Or so he thought.
From the greenhouse, there was a loud crack. Not mechanical. Not magical. Organic. Like wood splitting. Ivy's voice rang out. "You might want to get in here. Your cactus just tried to commit a hate crime against my orchids."
Paradox straightened, wiped his hands, and walked toward the sound of chaos.
The greenhouse door slid open with a hiss, revealing Ivy in her element: barefoot in the middle of a jungle that should not have been able to grow in a building three stories beneath Manhattan. Her plants coiled lazily around her arms, her shoulders, her waist. Beside her, one particularly muscular vine was slapping a jagged cactus repeatedly, like it owed someone money.
"I left you alone for ten minutes," he said.
"I left you alone for ten hours, and now there's a genetically modified war succulent in my flower bed."
"I was seeing if aggression could be transferred across chloroplasts."
"And?"
He nodded toward the cactus. "Success."
Ivy narrowed her eyes. "If it spikes my lilies one more time, I'm cooking it."
Paradox held up his hands. "Truce. I'll relocate it to the outer ring."
Axiom beeped twice. The temporal field was still holding, but barely. One more spike in activity and the pocket dimension housing the experiments would rupture, spilling time-shifted particles into the sub-basement. Again.
"You need to sleep," Ivy said, watching him with that mix of concern and exasperation only someone who'd lived with him this long could perfect.
He looked around the greenhouse, eyes scanning the environmental readings floating in the air. "Sleep is for people who aren't trying to rewrite the laws of gravity and seduce magic at the same time."
She arched an eyebrow. "You think I don't count as both?"
Paradox's smile was small, but real. "You're the exception."
"You keep telling me that," she said, stepping closer, "but you also installed sentient air-conditioning that flirts with me every time I wear a tank top."
"Coolant Unit 3 has good taste."
They stood in companionable silence for a moment, interrupted only by the rustling of leaves and the gentle hum of the lab. Then Ivy touched his shoulder.
"Go outside today."
He blinked. "What?"
"Outside," she said firmly. "The surface. Humans. Sunlight. Do something human before you forget how."
"I built a clean-fusion reactor last night using leftover alien debris and a microwave oven. That's human."
"That's you," she corrected. "But I mean it. Go walk. Breathe. Have coffee. Pretend you aren't a walking anomaly for a day."
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
By the time Paradox stepped onto the streets above, disguised as "Al Grayson" in a clean charcoal jacket and smart glasses, the world felt both too slow and too fast. New York buzzed with layered noise—traffic, people, weather, subtle electromagnetic radiation bouncing off satellites. He let it wash over him.
The coffee shop he stopped at was unassuming, tucked between a dry cleaner and a bookstore that hadn't changed owners in three decades. The barista was young, pierced, and half-asleep.
"What'll it be?" she asked without looking up.
He scanned the menu and pointed. "Large dark roast. And one of those death-muffins."
"Double chocolate chip?"
"I want to regret eating it."
She smiled faintly and rang him up.
He took a seat by the window, watching the world blur past. A couple arguing over phones. A dog dragging its owner down the sidewalk. A man in a business suit trying to eat a sandwich without taking off his Bluetooth headset.
Normal.
And then the ripple came.
Small at first—barely a flicker in the air. But to Paradox, it was deafening. A pressure drop, like something had punched the air between molecules. He turned slowly.
Across the street, reality shimmered—and a crack, thin as a thread of glass, formed in the air.
No one else noticed. But he did.
He stood, calmly paid for his muffin, and stepped outside.
The crack widened. Something was pushing through.
A figure emerged. Tall. Cloaked. Not of this world.
Paradox narrowed his eyes. "You're early."
The figure stopped. "You know me?"
"I designed the doorway you just crawled out of. And you're not supposed to be here for another six months."
The creature pulled back its hood. What looked out wasn't human. Not anymore. Not really.
"You accelerated the timeline," it rasped.
Paradox sighed. "Of course I did."
And without another word, the sidewalk exploded beneath them.
He moved instinctively, dodging debris as he slammed a pressure capsule onto the figure's chest, sending it reeling into a light pole. Civilians screamed and ran. Alarms blared. A passing car flipped from the shockwave.
Paradox reached into his coat and pulled out a small cube. He twisted it once.
Time slowed.
He walked across frozen glass and floating dust, reached the creature, and pressed two fingers to its forehead.
"Let me guess," he muttered. "You're the first scout."
Its lips curled. "The Fold is coming."
"Yeah," he said. "And now I know where they'll hit next."
He flicked his wrist.
The cube pulsed.
Time snapped back.
The creature vanished in a burst of static light, and the damage repaired itself in reverse—cars uncrashed, glass unshattered, bystanders mid-scream finding themselves mysteriously whole again.
The world blinked.
Only Paradox remained, sipping cold coffee.
He exhaled slowly, adjusted his coat, and walked back toward the underground lab.
Coffee break was over.