Marvel: A.T.L.A.S. - Ghost Protocol

Boston, Massachusetts - October 29, 1975

Five-year-old Caspian Arthur Valemont opened his eyes to the soft morning light filtering through heavy Victorian curtains. His consciousness emerged with the practiced ease of a trained operative, immediately processing his surroundings while maintaining the appearance of a normal child's awakening.

The bedroom was massive—easily larger than some apartments he'd surveilled during CIA operations in his previous life. Old money spoke through every detail: hand-carved mahogany furniture, an antique grandfather clock quietly marking time, and oil paintings depicting what he now recognized through his new memories as scenes from the Valemont family history.

His new body responded with the liquid grace of youth combined with Ninjak's muscle memory. Even at five, he could feel the potential coiled within his small frame. Testing his movements, he executed a perfect silent roll from his bed, landing in a crouch that would have made his former Marine instructors proud.

"Young master," a cultured British voice called from outside his door. "Are you awake?"

Caspian's mind immediately identified the voice, and he had to suppress a jolt of shock: Walter C. Dornez, the legendary warrior from Hellsing Ultimate. Another piece of evidence that ROB had merged multiple realities into this new world.

"Yes, Walter," Caspian responded, his child's voice carrying the precise diction of his adult mind. "You may enter."

The door opened to reveal a tall, elegant man in his early thirties, impeccably dressed in a butler's uniform. Walter's eyes, sharp and alert despite his deferential manner, scanned the room with practiced efficiency.

"Your morning routine, sir?" Walter inquired, though both knew it was more reminder than question.

Caspian moved to the center of his room, still processing the stream of new memories flooding his consciousness. Each revelation about his new family and position brought fresh surprises. The Valemont name carried weight he'd never encountered in any Marvel comic or film—a noble family with direct ties to the British crown, now a powerhouse in American politics and intelligence.

What truly staggered him was the identity of his mother. Carrie Anne Mathison—not just a character he'd watched in "Homeland," but now his mother and the Director of A.T.L.A.S., an organization he'd never heard of in his extensive knowledge of Marvel lore. The implications were staggering. ROB hadn't just given him a powerful family; he'd merged in one of the most brilliant intelligence operatives from fiction as his mother.

As he moved through his morning exercises, Caspian activated the Emperor Eye for the first time in this life. A familiar sensation washed over him as a glowing ring manifested between his eyes, identical to Seijūrō Akashi's from Kuroko no Basuke. The world shifted, becoming crystalline in its clarity. He could see Walter's minute muscle adjustments, predict the trajectory of dust motes in the air, read the subtle tells of the house's ancient foundation settling.

"Remarkable, young master," Walter observed, a hint of pride in his voice. "Your progress continues to exceed expectations."

Moving to his wardrobe, Caspian selected his clothing with deliberate care. His reflection showed a face that would one day match Paul Walker's handsome features, but now held the innocent beauty of childhood. Golden-blonde hair fell in perfect waves, and those striking blue eyes—almost electric in their intensity—held the wisdom of his previous life.

Walking the halls of the Valemont mansion, Caspian absorbed every detail through both his enhanced senses and his new memories. The residence was a fortress disguised as a Victorian mansion. Behind the antique wooden panels and priceless art lurked cutting-edge security systems.

The breakfast room offered a stunning view of the estate's grounds, where autumn painted the landscape in brilliant colors. His mother, Carrie Valemont, sat reading intelligence briefings while somehow maintaining perfect posture. The sight of her—the legendary CIA officer from "Homeland" now merged into this reality—still amazed him. His father stood by the window, and through his new memories, Caspian recognized him as a contemporary of Howard Stark, their genius complementing each other.

"Good morning, mother, father," Caspian greeted them formally, taking his seat.

Carrie looked up from her reports, her keen analytical eyes—the same ones that had unraveled countless conspiracies in another reality—studying her son. "Good morning, Caspian. I trust your morning exercises were productive?"

"Yes, mother. The integration continues to improve." He watched her carefully, still adjusting to the idea that this brilliant, complicated woman was now his mother.

Tobias turned from the window, a proud smile warming his features. "That's my boy. Howard's been asking about you—says Tony won't stop talking about meeting you when you both start at Phillips Academy."

The mention of Tony Stark triggered another wave of recognition. His future best friend, though neither of them knew it yet. He knew the broad strokes of what would happen to Tony, to the world, but his own role in it all remained a mystery.

As breakfast proceeded, Caspian maintained his role as the precocious but not suspicious child prodigy. He asked intelligent questions about his father's work, showed appropriate interest in his mother's carefully censored accounts of A.T.L.A.S. operations, and demonstrated the perfect manners expected of a Valemont heir.

Inside, however, his mind was racing. The Emperor Eye allowed him to read every micro-expression, every subtle shift in body language. His mother's casual mentions of A.T.L.A.S. operations were tests, gauging his reactions and understanding. His father's seemingly innocent questions about his interests were laying groundwork for future training.

This was his new reality—son of a legendary intelligence operative and a genius inventor, heir to a powerful family legacy he'd never known existed in the Marvel universe. He had knowledge of the future, yes, but his own path through it remained uncharted. For now, he would watch, learn, and grow into his new abilities.

As he sipped his morning tea (proper breakfast tea, as Walter insisted), Caspian allowed himself a small smile. Whatever came next would be his to discover.