Newsstands had already plastered the faces of the returned scientist across front pages, though the headlines varied wildly.

"SPACE SURVIVORS OR SCIENCE ACCIDENT?"

"COSMIC RAYS CREATE SUPERHUMANS"

"NEW YORK'S NEW HEROES—OR THREATS?"

Natalia tucked her chin into her collar as flashes from nearby photographers went off, not at her, of course, but at the newspapers. At the chaos.

She wasn't even through the Tribune's front doors when Jules called her from behind. "You better brace yourself," she said, jogging to catch up. "David's been in a mood all morning."

"What's the reason?" She asked curiously. "If he thinks that is because he would've gotten the story, he is wrong, appearently the news reached the whole wide world, everyone is going to talk about it."

"Sure," Jules said, holding the elevator open. "But David's mad because we had it first and you didn't get the exclusive. He wanted blood. Or at least a quote."

"First that is a bit of a stretch, I remember that we were almost torn apart between reporters and TV crews." Catalina stepped into the elevator. "Also, you think Richards was going to pull me aside and tell me how's his best friend came back made out of stone? Outside of every other person there?"

Jules shrugged, lips twitching. "Hey, stranger things have happened."

They both fell quiet as the elevator rose, Catalina's arms crossing tightly around her. She could still feel the heat of the moment, the eerie post-landing images, the crew being rushed off under strict security, no questions answered.

The elevator dinged.

The doors slid open onto the bullpen, which looked more like a war room than a newsroom. Phones ringing nonstop. Half the staff crowded around a screen playing muted footage of the launch and return on repeat. And at the center of it all, pacing like a general out for blood, was David.

He spotted her in seconds. "Serrano!" He walked towards his office, his stride long, hurried to get into his place of work.

Jules gave her a sympathetic pat on the arm. "Good luck not getting vaporized."

Catalina squared her shoulders and walked in. David didn't even look up as he waved her in, pacing behind his desk like he'd already gone through three cups of coffee and two interns. "Close the door."

She did, crossing her arms as he finally turned.

"You're going to the Baxter Building," he said, cutting straight to it.

Catalina blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"They're holding a controlled media briefing. Only a handful of outlets are being allowed in. We got the call twenty minutes ago." He pointed at her with a pen. "You're going."

Catalina raised an eyebrow. "After the tantrum you threw about me not getting the exclusive?"

David didn't smile. "You're still the one who's been following this story from day one. Don't make me regret it."

Catalina stood up nodding at him. "Any clues on what the briefing might be about?" David shook his head at her. "Fine, Jules is coming with me."

David waved her off as he picked up his office phone and began shouting about some other cover story. Catalina felt her body relax all of a sudden, she was head of the story, a big story. Grabbing her bags again she called out for her friend, she was quick on her feet and followed behind Catalina. Catalina didn't slow down. "Tribune's sending their not-starlet-journalist to the most talked-about building in Manhattan. Let's not be late."

Outside, the city felt louder, more chaotic than usual, as if it hadn't slept since the rocket touched back down. The buzz of traffic blended with conversations on street corners, people speculating in animated tones about what the astronauts-turned-heroes had become.

By the time they managed to get down a cab, Catalina had already pulled out her notebook. "Okay. Game plan. We stay sharp. We listen. We don't interrupt. But if there's room for questions..."

"I elbow the Post guy in the ribs and you slide in with the good stuff," Jules grinned.

Catalina smirked. "Exactly."

They reached the Baxter Building twenty minutes later, its front now blocked off with both barricades and security—nothing like two days ago. Crowds still gathered beyond the tape, some chanting, some just watching. The building itself looked like something out of a sci-fi film now: reflective panels, state-of-the-art tech visible through the glass, and a sleek new plaque by the doors that simply read: THE BAXTER FOUNDATION

"Is that a new name,? Jules muttered, eyes scanning the crowd.

Inside, it was cooler—sleek, polished, and weirdly quiet for how much the world was screaming outside. A young assistant in a dark blue suit approached with a tablet. "You're with the Tribune, right? Ms. Serrano and guest?"

"That's us," Catalina said confidently. Surprised at how fast David had put the guest onto the list, or maybe he knew that Catalina wouldn't go anywhere without Jules.

"You're on the list. Briefing starts in fifteen minutes."

The main floor had been transformed into a press-friendly space, rows of chairs already filling up with other journalists, cameras being positioned at perfect angles, boom mics hovering in the air like oversized dragonflies. At the front of the room was a long table, empty for now, with a Baxter Foundation banner draped across it and microphones set up evenly along its length.

"No coffee cart?" Jules murmured as they moved to grab seats in the third row. "Some science gods they are."

Catalina chuckles at her words. "We're not here for caffeine," she said, her voice steady. Even though she really needed one. "We're here for the moment they finally admit something weird happened up there."

"You think they will?"

"I think," Catalina said, tapping the end of her pen against her lip, "if they're calling this many people here, they're not going to play ignorant for long."

Jules sat back in her chair, skeptical. "Or they'll double down and give us some 'nothing to see here' speech."

Catalina tilted her head. "That's still a story."

Before Jules could reply, the lights above the stage dimmed slightly, signaling the start of the briefing. A hush rippled through the crowd as camera crews scrambled into position, the low hum of lenses zooming in filling the room.

A set of double doors near the podium opened. Four figures stepped out.

Catalina's pen froze mid-sentence.

Reed Richards looked the same, well, most of him. Sharp-suited, controlled. But his gait had changed. More fluid. Too fluid. He moved like someone who'd studied walking in a mirror and decided to exaggerate it just slightly.

Then came Johnny. God, he looked like he'd just stepped off a magazine cover, not out of orbit. Blond hair tousled just enough, that signature cocky grin in place. He wore a leather jacket like it was armor and waved at someone in the back row.

Behind him was his sister, Susan. Looking beautiful, glowing even, she didn't show a sign of nervousness or something like that, she even inspired confidence.

Then the room when silent for a moment as Ben Grimm —or who everyone imagened it was, walked in, he was the only one to have a big difference, his body was made of stones, he didn't look like himself.

The silence only stuck for a minute, the rapid camera flashes and questions being thrown around in various screams filled the room. Catalina even had to cover one of her ears as it rang from the sudden noise, she had seen a lot of things in her career, but nothing that rewrote biology in front of her eyes.

Jules leaned toward her. "Holy hell," she whispered, somewhere between awe and panic. "Is this an actual press conference?"

Catalina didn't answer. She couldn't. Not yet. Her pulse had picked up, but not from fear, it was from adrenaline. From the story that was being created before her eyes.

A man in a crisp black suit approached the podium and tapped the microphone. "Good morning. Thank you all for coming on such short notice. The team will be giving a statement, followed by a brief Q&A. We ask that you hold your questions until the end."

Catalina's fingers curled tighter around her pen.

Reed Richards stepped up first. "We understand there's been speculation. That's why we're here. To confirm what happened." He paused, eyes sweeping across the sea of journalists. "Two days ago, the four of us were exposed to a burst of cosmic radiation during an atmospheric anomaly. The effects were... unexpected."

Understatement of the year, Catalina thought.

Susan Storm took over confidently . "We've undergone changes. Physically, yes" She took a deep breath in. "but also in terms of responsibility. We know what we are now. And we know what we need to be moving forward."

Johnny cleared his throat dramatically. "Basically, we're still figuring it out, but we didn't turn into monsters—well, not all of us." He shot a sideways grin at Ben, who didn't even blink. The room erupted into an awkward laughter.

Catalina felt Jules kick her foot lightly under the chair. "You getting all of this?" Catalina didn't answer. She was already writing. Her hand flying over the page.

A split-second after Susan stepped back from the mic, the room rushed into chaos.

"Mr. Richards! Does this mean you have powers?"

"Ms. Storm, are you radioactive?"

"Are you planning to register with the government?"

"Is Ben dangerous?!"

Dozens of voices piled on top of each other, microphones lifted into the air like weapons. Catalina didn't flinch. She didn't need to shout to get her answer. She knew better than that.

Reed raised a hand, instantly calming the room. "We understand the concern. We are still learning the full extent of our... transformations. But rest assured, we are not a threat."

"Are you calling yourselves superheroes?" someone barked from the left side of the room.

Johnny leaned forward into the mic, practically buzzing. "I mean, if the leather jacket fits..."

Catalina looked up, catching the moment perfectly. Cocky grin, glint in his eye, the kind of image that would be on every homepage by sunset.

But she wasn't here for charm. She was here for answers. She stood up.

"Catalina Serrano, The Times Tribune" she said, her voice even but clear, cutting through the noise. Eyes flicked to her, including Reed's—and Johnny's.

"Were you expecting something to go wrong on the mission? If not, why weren't there better safety protocols in place for radiation exposure?"

A beat of silence followed her question. Maybe a gasp that came from Jules.

Reed cleared his throat. "We accounted for every known risk. What we encountered wasn't something any of our models predicted."

Catalina didn't blink. "So you're saying this was an accident."

Another pause. Then, quietly but firmly: "Yes."

"Does this accident mean there's something out there—something powerful?" Her voice was steady, but the room shifted. The question landed.

There was a flicker in Reed's eyes. Barely there—but Catalina caught it. A small shift in posture. Not fear. Caution.

"We're still analyzing the full scope of what we encountered," he said. "But yes, space is... unpredictable. And it's clear we were exposed to something we didn't understand."

"Yet you came back changed," another reporter shouted from the other side of the room. "How do we know it's safe?"

"We don't," Johnny said suddenly, stepping up to the mic like he'd been waiting for a chance. "That's the fun part, right?"

There were a few forced chuckles, but mostly silence. Catalina's pen scratched faster. He was enjoying this. The attention, the drama. He practically glowed under the lights. Literally.

Jules whispered beside her, "Did you see that? His hand. It just—"

"I saw it," Catalina said, her voice low. Johnny's fingers had sparked. Just for a moment. A shimmer of heat rippling through his skin before he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets like nothing happened.

Susan leaned in, said something to her brother that didn't carry to the crowd, and Johnny. Well, he surprisingly shut up. Catalina wrote down what they had just witnessed, quick enough to return her gaze to the group in front of them.

From the front, Reed Richards cleared his throat, drawing attention back to the briefing. "We're still undergoing analysis," he was saying, measured and calm. "We're not ready to label ourselves as heroes. What happened... it wasn't meant to happen."

Catalina glanced down at her notes, then back up at the group. Her gaze found Johnny one more time. His hands were on his pockets this time. But steam curled faintly off the collar of his jacket. Or was Catalina just imagining things?

As the briefing slowed down people bagn to leave, journalist and reporters trying to get a few more questions out as the group left to their own business, Jules did the same, but was stopped abruptly before she could even get her bag.

"We are staying." Catalina looked at her, doing the same as her, standing from her chair but looking around. "We will wait outside, but around the building, just in case one of them come out alone, maybe we can get something more from them."

Jules leaned close to her. "I love that, but don't you think that you're not the only one with that idea?" Catalina shrugged on her spot. "What makes you think they will talk?"

Catalina's face showed a smiles. "I know of someone who might, little sparks there, he loves the attention." Jules smiled too. "And who couldn't resist our charm and good looks."

"Oh, you are so sneaky."

"Perhaps, but hey, they wanted a headline. Let's give the heroes a headline."