Chapter 51: Loki has descended, wanting to control me with the Mind Stone? In your dreams!
Loki gripped the long metal scepter and walked completely out of the shadow.
The gem at the tip of the scepter flickered with a dim blue light.
The blue light struck the frosted glass window, refracting a pale halo.
The temperature of the entire diner dropped to freezing point.
Even the yellowish incandescent tube overhead emitted a sizzling sound of struggle due to the cold.
"Loki!"
Thor stood up abruptly like an enraged lion.
His knee hit the edge of the dining table.
The cup of beer frozen into an ice lump on the table smashed onto the ground, shattering into several large pieces of yellow broken ice.
Having eaten a Senzu Bean, Thor's physical exhaustion was completely swept away.
A formidable vitality surged in his blood vessels.
He let out a loud roar, and his thick thighs exerted force.
His entire body crossed the fireproof board table like a cannonball, lunging directly at the man wearing dark green leather armor.
Without Mjolnir.
He raised his right fist, which was the size of a sandbag, carrying the sound of breaking wind, and fiercely smashed it toward Loki's pale face.
The strength of this punch was enough to kill a bull.
Loki stood in place, with no intention of dodging at all.
A look of disdain hung on his pale face.
The wind of the fist blew down a strand of black hair in front of his forehead.
At the moment when the fist was about to hit the bridge of his nose.
Loki tilted his head slightly.
The fist brushed past his towering dark golden shoulder armor, not even scraping a piece of skin.
Immediately following that.
Loki raised his right leg.
The black tactical leather boots whipped up an afterimage, kicking accurately onto Thor's chest.
Bam!
A muffled sound.
Thor's sturdy body weighing over two hundred pounds flew backward directly.
The speed was even faster than when he lunged over.
He smashed through two artificial leather chairs, his back slamming heavily against the wooden paneling of the diner's bar counter.
Crash.
The wooden board shattered.
Dozens of whiskey glass cups on the shelf above the bar smashed onto his head like rain.
Glass shards shattered all over the floor.
"Ugh…"
Thor let out a painful muffled grunt.
Clutching his chest, he slid down to sit in the shattered glass all over the floor.
Senzu Beans could only restore stamina; they couldn't give him god-like defense.
Even if Loki was a mage, he still possessed solid AsgardFrost Giant bloodline.
This powerful kick almost broke Thor's ribs.
The fat waiter behind the counter let out a distorted scream.
Crawling clumsily, he squeezed into the cabinet under the sink, hugging his head tightly with both hands.
"Rude barbarian."
Loki put down his right leg.
He extended two fingers and disdainfully flicked the non-existent dust on his leather armor.
"Without that lousy hammer, you're not even as good as Asgard's watchdog."
Dragging the Mind Stone, he took two steps forward.
The metal tail end of the scepter scraped across the floor tiles, making a harsh friction sound.
Loki turned his head.
His pale face greeted the flickering neon sign outside.
His gaze fell upon Aaron in the booth.
Aaron didn't move.
He was still pinching that wooden toothpick used for picking teeth in his hand.
The zipper of his black jacket was open, revealing a thin white short-sleeve shirt inside.
He sat quietly there, watching Loki perform.
"Is this the backing you found?"
Loki pointed at Aaron with the scepter and sneered at Thorin the direction of the bar.
"A Midgard commoner shivering in the corner? My dear brother, your taste is truly becoming more and more pathetic."
Thor gritted his teeth tightly, a bloody taste welling up in his mouth.
He grabbed the edge of the bar with both hands, wanting to stand up.
The severe pain in his chest made his knees soften, and he knelt back down.
"Stay away from him… Loki!"
Thor panted heavily.
He had witnessed Aaron's power.
But he was even clearer about the terror of the Mind Stone.
That was an evil magic that could even corrupt gods.
Loki didn't take Thor's warning seriously at all.
Treading on the ice shards all over the floor, he stopped in front of Aaron.
He looked down condescendingly at the black-haired young man.
"I just need an obedient dog to help me open the gates of this Planet."
Cruel banter emanated from Loki's eyes.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Thor.
"Make your new master kneel and lick my boots right in front of you. This should completely shatter your pathetic self-esteem, right?"
Loki gripped the scepter tightly.
His arm pushed forward.
The curved metal tip of the Mind Stone pointed straight toward Aaron's left chest.
Right at the position of the heart.
Aaron leaned against the back of the sofa.
He didn't dodge.
He didn't raise his hand.
He didn't even change the posture of holding the toothpick.
He just quietly watched the gem flickering with blue light approach.
Clang.
A crisp collision sound.
The tip of the scepter poked against the fabric of Aaron's black jacket.
Just like a silver spoon tapping on a solid steel plate.
Loki activated the magic inside the scepter.
The energy of the Mind Stone erupted instantly.
A dim blue evil light surged wildly toward Aaron's chest along the tip of the scepter.
According to Loki's past experience.
This energy would instantly penetrate the skin, crawl up the opponent's neck along the blood vessels, and dye the whites of the eyes into pure black.
The person hit would completely lose self-awareness and be reduced to his marionette.
The blue light covered Aaron's chest.
Even reflecting his face into an eerie blue.
But nothing happened.
The moment this mental energy, sufficient to corrupt gods, contacted Aaron's body.
It was like crashing head-on into an endless Wall of Sighs.
The mental immunity aura deep within Aaron's mind didn't need to be actively activated at all.
His brain domain and soul had long been an absolutely closed singularity.
The omnipresent infiltration characteristics of the mental energy lost their effect here.
The blue light hovered around Aaron's chest twice.
Unable to find any gaps for intrusion.
Finally, like a deflating balloon, with a sizzle, it directly dissipated into the cold air.
It didn't even blow a single hair of Aaron's.
The sneer on Loki's face froze.
The pale muscles still maintained the mocking arc, but his green eyeballs had frozen.
He stared blankly at the tip of the scepter.
Then he looked at Aaron's clear, somewhat bored eyes.
No black blood vessels.
No worshipful fanaticism.
This Earthling looked at him as if looking at a fool.
"Did the magic fail?"
Loki's Adam's apple rolled once.
He had never encountered such a situation.
This was the purest mental power in the Universe.
Even Odin would have to consume divine power to resist it.
How could a commoner take this blow head-on and still be fine as if nothing happened?
He refused to believe it.
He gripped the scepter tightly with his right hand.
Pulled back three inches.
Gritting his teeth, he thrust it forward forcefully again.
Clang.
The crisp collision sound rang out again.
The blue light flashed once, then shattered like water splashes.
Aaron's chest didn't even leave a mark.
Loki's breathing became disordered.
A bit of cold sweat seeped out on his forehead.
He held the long scepter with both hands, pressing all his strength onto his arms.
Aiming at Aaron's heart position, he stabbed fiercely for the third time.
Clang!
This blow used too much strength.
The shaft of the metal scepter even curved slightly into an arc.
Aaron finally sighed.
His breath blew away a bit of frost floating in front of him.
He casually threw the wooden toothpick in his hand onto the table.
The toothpick bounced twice on the iced tabletop.
He raised his right hand.
The speed was so fast that even Loki's eyes couldn't capture it.
Five slender fingers grabbed the metal handguard below the scepter in one go.
Along with Loki's right wrist holding the scepter, he pinched it tightly in his palm.
Just like being bitten by an industrial-grade vise.
Loki felt his wrist instantly lose sensation.
Aaron sat on the sofa.
The muscles on the back of his hand did not bulge, showing no signs of exerting force.
Only his fingers tightened inward slightly.
Snap.
Creak.
The sound of bones being powerfully squeezed and dislocated.
Rang out clearly in the eerily quiet diner.
Severe pain bolted into Loki's brain like an electric current.
His pale face instantly turned liver-colored.
His knees softened, almost directly kneeling on the icy floor.
He wanted to pull his hand back, but that hand seemed to have grown into the other's hand, motionless.
Aaron raised his eyelids.
Looking at the God of Mischief whose facial features were distorted by severe pain.
"Have you poked enough?"
Aaron's voice was not loud.
But to Loki, this sound was even more terrifying than Mjolnir smashing onto his head.
Chapter 52: Reverse Controlling Loki, the God of Mischief Turns Into a Tea-Serving Minion
"Crack."
The crisp sound drowned out the sound of rain hitting the glass outside the window.
Loki's originally pale face instantly turned purplish-red.
The wrist of his right hand holding the scepter bent outward at an unnatural angle, and white bone fragments pierced through the dark green leather armor, revealing a corner.
The excruciating pain was like a red-hot branding iron, directly branding his central nervous system.
A distorted roar squeezed out of Loki's throat.
He let go of the scepter, waved his left hand fiercely, and a burst of green magic energy exploded from between his fingers.
"Despicable mortal!"
Loki roared.
The air rippled violently, like a lake hit by a pebble.
One, two, ten.
In an instant, ten identical Lokis appeared in the diner, their movements uniform, and even the arc of the sneer at the corners of their mouths was completely identical.
They scattered from different angles, and the afterimage of the Mind Stone danced wildly in the air.
This was Asgard's top-tier illusion.
Even Thor's eyes, which could see through thunder, couldn't tell which one was the physical entity.
Thor stood up, clutching his chest, and wiped the ice water off his face.
"Aaron, watch out! His illusions carry—"
Before he could finish speaking, Thor shut his mouth.
Aaron was still sitting in the red booth.
He didn't even move his butt an inch, just blinked.
Deep within his pupils, that faint layer of blue light instantly lit up.
The Eye of Seeing Through Illusion.
In Aaron's field of vision.
The nine Lokis were like ghost images in an old television set, their borders edged with transparent blurring.
Only the dark figure behind and to the side, who was trying to climb out the window to escape.
The muscle lines were solid, and the flow of energy in the blood vessels was clearly visible.
Aaron sneered.
He backhandedly grabbed the cup of plain water on the table that had already frozen into ice.
Without looking back.
He swung his right hand horizontally backward.
"Bang!"
The water cup accurately smashed into the back of the head of the Loki preparing to climb out the window.
The thick glass cup was shattered to pieces.
Loki let out a muffled grunt, pulling back the leg that had just stepped over the windowsill, his entire body knocked off balance.
Aaron's figure disappeared.
That was the absolute speed brought by the Steel Body.
He crossed a distance of three meters in less than a microsecond.
The air was forcibly smashed open by his shoulders, emitting a harsh sonic boom.
Before Loki hit the ground, Aaron's hand had already clamped onto his ankle.
Like a hydraulic clamp forged from pig iron.
"Do Asgardian mages all like to crawl through windows like rats?"
Aaron's voice was very cold, like a block of ice.
Loki looked back in horror.
Before he even had time to open his mouth to beg for mercy.
Aaron's arm exerted sudden force, swinging him like a bundle of heavy burlap sacks, lifting Loki entirely into mid-air.
"Thud!"
Loki was heavily slammed onto the wooden floor in the exact center of the diner.
The floor tiles shattered instantly, and wood chips flew in all directions.
All the air in Loki's lungs was squeezed out by this impact, making an ugly inhaling sound.
Aaron didn't stop.
With an expressionless face, he swung his arm back the other way.
Loki drew a semicircle in the air.
"Thud!"
This time he was slammed against the edge of the booth on the other side.
The faux leather was smashed through, and the yellow sponge inside sprayed all over the floor like snowflakes.
"Thud! Thud! Thud!"
The dull impacts sounded rhythmically.
The entire diner shook violently.
The fat waiter behind the counter tightly covered his ears, his teeth grinding audibly.
Thor leaned against the edge of the bar, the corner of his eye twitching.
He looked at his younger brother, who was usually arrogant beyond compare and full of lies.
Now being slammed back and forth fiercely in Aaron's hands like a torn rag bag.
Loki's gorgeous leather armor had already shattered into tattered strips of cloth.
His iconic black mid-length hair was stained with dust and ketchup, as messy as a chicken coop.
Aaron let go of his hand.
Loki collapsed in the crater of the floor filled with ice slag and wood chips like a puddle of mud.
His green eyes were already out of focus, the corners of his eyes split, bleeding a wisp of dark red blood.
"I am... I am a god..."
Loki's voice was as weak as a mosquito's hum, and with every word he spoke, blood foam seeped from the corners of his mouth.
His worldview, his divinity, and all his pride as the God of Mischief.
Were completely smashed into the dirt by these few fierce slams.
Aaron patted his hands.
He looked at Loki, who was having an existential crisis in the pit, and clenched his right hand empty in the air.
A black metal ring appeared out of thin air at his fingertips.
That was the reward obtained from opening the mystery box just now.
Enslavement Collar (Deity Restricted Edition).
Aaron squatted down, his movements as casual as putting a collar on a stray dog.
"Click."
The cold metal buckle locked tightly around Loki's neck.
A circle of dark red light flashed across the surface of the collar, and finally merged into the skin, disappearing.
Loki widened his eyes abruptly, feeling an extremely domineering restriction instantly sealing off all the magiccircuits within his body.
He had become a useless person who couldn't even perform a trick.
"You... what did you do to me?"
Loki reached out his trembling hand to touch his neck, but only felt a circle of burning patterns.
"Found you a decent job."
Aaron stood up and turned to look at Thor, who was still dazed.
"Watched enough of the show? Time to go home."
Aaron raised his hand.
Space jump.
A blue light gate was violently ripped open in the devastated diner.
Aaron picked up the back of Loki's collar with his left hand and grabbed Thor's shirt with his right hand.
And directly stepped into the stream of light.
Manhattan. Penthouse duplex mansion.
The temperature here was kept constant at twenty-four degrees Celsius, exuding a faint cedar scent.
Blue light flashed.
Three figures appeared on the Persian rug.
Thor staggered, and before he could steady his footing, the warmth in the air made him want to yawn.
As for Loki, he collapsed directly onto the ground, panting heavily like a dead dog.
"Aaron, you're back?"
Gwen, wearing a black, white, and pink Ghost-Spider suit, was hanging upside down from the living room ceiling.
She had just been practicing how to catch a water cup with web-shooters, and hearing the commotion, she leaped down gracefully.
Her long blonde hair swept an arc through the air.
Mary Jane was sitting on the sofa, holding a can of cola.
She looked at Thor covered in mud, and Loki lying on the ground wearing tattered green leather armor.
"Who are these two?"
MJ took a sip of cola and raised an eyebrow.
Aaron didn't speak.
He took off the rain-soaked black jacket and tossed it casually onto the coat rack nearby.
The white short-sleeved shirt underneath was still as clean as new.
He walked into the kitchen.
A pile of uncollected tea sets was placed by the counter.
Aaron casually tore off a damp gray rag.
He turned around and walked back to the living room.
"Slap."
With a flick of his wrist, the rag accurately slapped onto Loki's blood-stained face.
The cold dampness made Loki shiver.
"Don't play dead on the floor."
Aaron looked down at the God of Mischief, his tone chillingly calm.
"Go wash these tea sets. Brew a pot of black tea for the girls on the sofa."
"Earl Grey, with one cube of sugar."
Grabbing the rag on his face, Loki froze entirely.
He raised his head, his eyes filled with humiliation.
He was the prince of Asgard.
He was the king destined to rule Midgard.
Now, this Earthling was telling him to pour tea? Using a dirty rag like this that had washed dishes?
"You dare humiliate—"
Just as Loki gritted his teeth and tried to stand up, the collar around his neck suddenly tightened.
A piercing, excruciating pain instantly spread through his entire body.
He screamed, dropping back to his knees on the ground, his hands clutching desperately at the carpet.
"Three minutes."
Aaron glanced at the quartz clock on the wall, his voice devoid of any warmth.
Loki stared fixedly at Aaron.
Finally, with trembling hands, he picked up the gray rag from the floor.
Supporting his weak legs, he limped toward the kitchen.
That figure was as humble as a bartender driven out of his home.
Deep within the distant starry sky.
Bifrost Bridge. Heimdall stood at the center of the hub.
His golden eyes, which reflected the stars of the heavens and claimed to be able to see every speck of dust in the Nine Realms.
Were trembling violently at this moment.
He tightly gripped the guardian sword Burt.
The runes on the hilt grew slightly warm from the sweat in his palms.
Within his golden vision.
He saw Asgard's most talented mage.
That second prince Loki, who always wore an arrogant expression and attempted to overthrow the throne of Asgard.
Was now cowering in a kitchen on Earth.
Holding a dirty cloth in his hands.
Scrubbing a white porcelain teacup printed with a cartoon cat pattern with a face full of humiliation.
Heimdall's breathing became heavy.
This shocked him even more than seeing the Chitauri army invade Earth.
Some unspeakable fear, following his gaze, burned all the way from Midgard to the Golden Palace of Asgard.
Chapter 53: Asgard Trembles, Odin Shakes His Head in Disbelief
At the head of the Bifrost Bridge, violent winds whistled past, carrying stardust debris.
Heimdall's golden eyes trembled violently.
Deep within his pupils, the scenery of Midgard was spinning rapidly like a revolving lantern.
Finally, it froze in a kitchen filled with a modern atmosphere.
He saw the second prince of Asgard, the God of Mischief, rolling up his tattered sleeves.
Loki was clutching a dusty rag in his hand.
With a look of utter humiliation, he was wiping a white porcelain teacup printed with a pink cartoon cat pattern.
A few drops of dish soap foam even remained on the rim of the cup.
"This is impossible..."
Heimdall squeezed a dry, low roar from his throat.
He abruptly turned around.
His heavy golden armor emitted a chaotic metallic clashing sound as he ran, exceptionally harsh against the silent bridge deck.
The guardian sword Bult bounced frantically in its sheath.
Heimdall crossed the Bifrost Bridge.
He could not care about the decorum of a guard, striding through the golden corridor.
His leather boots slammed heavily onto the smooth brick surface.
In the Heavenly Palace hall, the magnificent dome pierced straight into the clouds.
Odin sat upon that throne symbolizing the supreme power of the Nine Realms.
In his hand, he held the Eternal Spear, Gungnir.
The spear tip pointed obliquely at the ground, flickering with a cold light in the dim hall.
"Heimdall, why have you abandoned your post?"
Odin spoke slowly.
Weariness showed in his single eye, and his voice carried heavy echoes throughout the empty hall.
Heimdall suddenly dropped to one knee.
His knee struck the golden bricks, producing a muffled, loud sound.
"Your Majesty... something has happened in Midgard."
He raised his head, his breathing growing short from running wildly.
"Loki... he has become a servant of that Earthling. Thortoo..."
Odin's fingers gripping the spear shaft suddenly tightened.
His knuckles turned pale from excessive force, and the metal spear body emitted a faint groan.
He closed that single eye.
A majestic divine power emanated from the throne.
The divine power pierced through the clouds of Asgard, crossed endless starry domains, and descended directly upon the penthouse apartment in Manhattan.
Odin saw it.
He saw Loki carrying a tray, cautiously walking into the living room.
His movements were as stiff as a bartender serving a tray for the first time.
On the tray were a few cups of steaming Earl Grey black tea.
Beside them, Thor was sprawled out ungracefully in a corner of the sofa.
His mouth was stuffed with pizza bought from who knows where, with sauce stuck to his beard.
And right in the center of the living room.
That dark-haired young man was half-reclining in the leather backrest.
A hot-bodied silver-haired woman (Black Cat) was peeling a purple grape.
Pinching the crystal-clear fruit flesh between her fingertips, she fed it into the young man's mouth.
Odin wanted to follow the lines of causality to see through the young man's past.
He stirred the power of the runes.
Within the weaving net of fate, everyone's life was like a slender thread.
But what he saw was a bottomless void.
There were no threads.
No past, no future.
The position where the young man sat was a pitch-black singularity in the weaving net of fate.
Odin's divine power attempted to probe into that void.
Hum.
An overwhelmingly domineering physical repulsive force abruptly rebounded.
It was like a raven flying at full speed crashing into a solid iron mountain.
Odin's body suddenly leaned back.
The back of his head struck the hard throne backrest, producing a thud.
His breathing became disordered, and the frequency of his chest rising and falling was three times faster than usual.
This was not magic.
This was a physical density so pure to the extreme that even space felt heavy.
On that young man, he felt a terrifying brute force sufficient to tear Asgard apart and trample the Bifrost Bridge to pieces.
That was a weight that even the World Tree could not bear.
"Your Majesty?" Heimdall called out in a low voice from below.
Odin opened his eyes again.
He stared at Gungnir in his hand, its spear tip still trembling slightly.
He had originally wanted to order the assembly of Asgard's army to descend upon Midgard and rescue his two sons.
But at this moment, he S-Rank back.
If that young man truly went crazy.
Would Asgard's soldiers be any different from clay-molded toys in the other party's hands?
Although Loki was washing dishes, at least he was still alive.
Although Thor was eating pizza, he looked even sturdier than when he was in the Heavenly Palace.
Odin slowly exhaled a foul breath.
He loosened his grip on the spear shaft, his shoulders sagging dejectedly.
That head of white hair appeared exceptionally aged in the dim light.
"There is no need to interfere."
Odin waved his hand, his movements as slow as a rusted machine.
"That is their own choice. Midgard... is no longer the playground it used to be."
He closed his eyes again and turned his head away.
No longer looking into Heimdall's puzzled eyes.
...
Manhattan, penthouse duplex apartment.
The air was filled with a rich aroma of Earl Grey black tea.
Carrying the tray, Loki stopped in front of the sofa.
He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the impulse to slam this tray of hot tea onto Aaron's head.
The collar around his neck grew slightly warm, as if warning him not to harbor any crooked thoughts.
"Please... have some tea."
Loki's voice sounded like it was squeezed out from between his teeth, extremely dry.
He bent down.
Clumsily placing the teacup on the marble coffee table.
Because his fingers were trembling slightly, the porcelain cup and saucer collided, producing a crisp clinking sound.
Felicia raised an eyebrow, extended fingers painted with black nail polish, and picked up a cup of black tea.
She took a sip.
"The temperature is just right. It seems the prince of Asgard is very talented in serving people."
She looked at Loki playfully, a bad smile hanging on the corners of her mouth.
Loki did not retort.
Lowering his head, he stared intently at the patterns on the carpet.
His knuckles turned somewhat pale from excessive force.
Thor was gnawing on the last piece of pizza.
He wiped the sauce from his mouth and gave Aaron a thumbs-up.
"Aaron, this tea is indeed good. It warms the stomach even better than the fruit wine of the Heavenly Palace."
He had clearly completely adapted to the identity of the "little brother of the big boss's house".
Aaron swallowed the grapes in his mouth.
He leaned back on the sofa, feeling this absurd yet cozy life.
Just as Loki was preparing to pack up the tray and return to the kitchen.
Ding-dong.
A crisp electronic doorbell ring sounded in the quiet living room.
Everyone stopped their actions.
Gwen hung upside down from the ceiling, tilting her head to look toward the main door.
A trace of hope flashed in Loki's eyes. Could it be an undercover agent of the Chitauri?
Aaron stood up.
He kicked off the cotton slippers on his feet and walked barefoot on the carpet.
Walking to the foyer.
Through the retinal scanner, the main door slid open to both sides.
The cold wind from the porch blew in.
A tall Black man wearing a long black leather windbreaker stood at the doorway.
He was bald, his left eye covered by a black leather eyepatch.
His single sound right eye was covered in bloodshot veins, looking as if he hadn't slept in days.
Nick Fury.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Director.
Fury looked at Aaron who opened the door.
On his dark face, he forcibly pulled out an arc.
This smile squeezed into his wrinkles was even uglier than crying.
He could even hear the protest made by his facial muscles due to stiffness.
"Good evening, Mr. Parker."
Fury's voice was hoarse, carrying a heavy tobacco flavor.
He raised his right hand.
In his hand, he clutched a thick document sealed in a transparent plastic bag.
Printed on the cover in a few bright red characters:
"Avengers Initial Establishment Archives · S-Rank".
Chapter 54: The Avengers Newly Formed, Fury Madly Hints Aaron to Join
The doorbell rang rhythmically, three shorts and one long.
Aaron walked to the entryway, his fingertips resting lightly on the brass doorknob.
"Click."
The heavy solid wood door retracted backward, and the cold wind from the high altitude of Manhattan drilled inward through the gap.
Nick Fury stood at the doorway.
The long black leather windbreaker almost hung down to his ankles, making his already dark face look like a piece of coal just dug from a mine.
His single eye stared intently at Aaron behind the door, his lips pursed tightly.
The stiff muscles at the corners of his mouth forcibly squeezed out an arc.
It was a fake smile uglier than crying, his flesh twitching, but there was not a trace of amusement in his eyes.
"Mr. Parker, excuse the intrusion."
Fury's voice was hoarse, as if it had been ground on sandpaper.
His right hand pinched a thick kraft paper bag, the corners already slightly wrinkled.
Without waiting for Aaron to invite him, he turned his body sideways, like a Black Panther patrolling its territory, and stepped into the living room.
His feet landed without making a sound.
But the moment his entire body stepped into the living room, his movements suddenly froze.
His right hand gripped the document bag tightly, the kraft paper making a harsh "creak" sound.
Fury's single eye widened slightly, the bloodshot veins on the surface of his eyeballs clearly visible due to nervous tension.
The living room was full of sunlight.
On the plush rug in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, Thor was sitting cross-legged.
That God of War from Asgard was holding a huge Supreme Meat Lover's pizza in his hand.
The stringy cheese hung on his golden beard, shiny and oily.
"Hey, one-eyed man, the food in this place is even more exciting than the banquet in Heavenly Palace!"
Thor had an extremely loud voice, making the crystal cup on the coffee table hum.
Fury ignored Thor.
He turned his head and looked towards the kitchen.
Loki was wearing a white apron printed with the words "Top Butler".
He was holding a silver tray in his hand, his movements elegant and stiff.
The hand that should have been holding the Mind Stonewas now pinching a slender small silver spoon.
The tray held an exquisite set of bone china tea sets.
Loki walked up to Fury, his eyes revealing a humiliation that was almost overflowing.
He clenched his back molars, every word seeming to be forcefully squeezed out from between his teeth:
"Earl Grey tea, with a sugar cube added. Please enjoy, Officer."
With the last two words, Loki almost crushed the saucer.
Fury's Adam's apple rolled violently up and down.
He felt his temples thumping wildly, and his blood pressure rushed straight to his skull in this second.
That was Loki.
That Second Prince of Asgard listed as an "annihilation-level threat" in the S.H.I.E.L.D. archives.
Was now acting like a well-trained restaurant waiter, serving him tea and water?
Fury took a deep breath, the cold air pouring into his lungs.
He forcibly suppressed the turbulent waves in his heart, turned around, and walked to the sofa.
He sat opposite Aaron and slammed the document bag marked "S-Rank Top Secret" on the coffee table.
With great force, the papers inside the document bag made a muffled colliding sound.
"Parker, you should know what happened recently."
Fury stared at Aaron, his fingers repeatedly scratching on his knees.
"The Tesseract is out of control. That is an energy source that can directly tear this Planet apart."
His speaking speed was fast, carrying a deliberately created sense of urgency.
Aaron leaned against the back of the chair.
He reached out and took the black tea Loki had just put down, taking a sip.
The tea temperature was just right, the sugar cube completely melted, carrying a faint citrus fragrance.
"If a water pipe bursts, you can find a repairman."
Aaron put down the cup, his fingertips circling the rim of the cup.
"What are you looking for me for? I am just a high school student living on relief checks."
Fury's eye corner twitched.
He opened the document bag and flung a stack of photos out of it.
Those were the latest stock price trends of Stark Industries, and several encrypted offshore account statements.
"A high school student with five percent of dry shares of Stark Industries under his name?"
Fury sneered, his voice showing impatience.
"This World has changed. Aliens, gods, and..."
He glanced at Thor, who was biting into the pizza, and finally his gaze fell on Aaron's face.
"And a monster like you that simply cannot be defined by science."
Fury leaned his upper body forward, lowering his voice, his single eye flashing with a desperate fanaticism.
"I am forming a special team. I call it the Avengers."
He flipped out a specially made ID card from that stack of files.
Pure black matte texture, embedded with a dark golden eagle logo in the middle.
"As long as you join, S.H.I.E.L.D. can provide you with everything you cannot imagine."
Fury paused for a moment, observing Aaron's expression.
"First, the highest level of immunity. No matter how much of a commotion you make in New York, even if you demolish another three buildings, the government will not bother you."
"Second, unlimited financial support. Whatever Stark can give you, S.H.I.E.L.D. can give twice."
"Third..."
Fury clenched his teeth, making a huge gamble.
"You are the Captain of this team. Even Captain Americaand Iron Man must listen to your dispatch."
He pushed that black ID card forward.
The ID card slid across the smooth tabletop, stopping in front of Aaron's fingertips.
"We need the strongest person to suppress those disobedient guys."
Aaron lowered his head and glanced at that card.
The dark golden logo gleamed with a cold metallic light under the lights.
He smiled.
It was a very casual smile, exuding a contempt that made Fury's bone marrow turn cold.
"Immunity? I am the rules myself, I don't need anyone to grant immunity."
Aaron flicked that ID card away lightly with his index finger.
The card hit the edge of the coffee table, making a crisp "clang" sound.
"Funds? Stark hasn't given me enough of this year's dividends yet."
He shifted his body backward, his entire person sinking into the soft sofa.
His right leg lifted, resting directly on the edge of the expensive mahogany coffee table.
The cotton socks shook in front of Fury, carrying an extremely rude laziness.
Fury's fists suddenly clenched tightly.
The veins on the back of his hands bulged one by one, and his knuckles made a crisp "creak" sound.
He stared at Aaron fixedly, his tooth roots aching a little from biting.
This was the most arrogant rejection he had heard in his life.
"Parker, this is not a negotiation with you."
Fury's voice sank, carrying an oppressive feeling of a coming storm.
"The Chitauri army is right over there at the wormhole, Earth needs you."
Aaron tilted his head, looking at Fury's dark face that was so tense it was about to crack.
He listened to the other party's rapid heartbeat and that slightly trembling breath.
"Join your part-time work group? Listen to your boring speeches every day, and then crawl around in the sewers?"
Aaron sneered, with not a shred of room for maneuver in his tone.
"Not interested. It's really boring."
Aaron raised his eyelids, his gaze crossing over Fury's shoulders.
His sight passed through the spacious living room corridor and finally stopped at the tightly closed apartment door.
Outside the door.
A red-haired woman had her back to the door, leaning against the corridor railing.
She wore a neat black tactical suit, with two small pistols tied to her waist.
She was Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, sent by S.H.I.E.L.D. to guard and monitor the Director.
Aaron stared at that back, the corners of his mouth hooking into a playful arc.
He withdrew his feet and leaned his body forward slightly.
"However..."
He drew out his tone, his voice appearing somewhat abrupt in the quiet living room.
"Unless..."
He reached out his hand and pointed towards the direction outside the door.
Chapter 55: Working is out of the question; working part-time is impossible, unless Natasha comes to massage my shoulders
Aaron's fingers were held out horizontally.
His fingertips were pointing directly at the heavy solid wood door of the entryway.
Outside the door, that red-haired figure shifted slightly.
Nick Fury's single eye suddenly contracted, and the wrinkles around his eye socket squeezed together like a dried-up riverbed.
His dark, bruised-looking face was turning ashen at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The hands hanging at his sides were tightly clenched into fists, his knuckles pressing against his black leather gloves and making a creaking, popping sound.
"Agent Romanoff is S.H.I.E.L.D.'s trump card, not your private property."
Fury's voice squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying a heavy taste of rust.
Aaron withdrew his hand and casually tapped on the stack of S-Rank document bags.
The kraft paper made a crisp pattering sound.
"I didn't say she was property."
Aaron leaned back, sinking his entire body into that set of genuine leather sofas worth six hundred thousand dollars.
He let out a long yawn, squeezing a trace of physiological tears from the corners of his eyes.
"Working is out of the question; it's impossible to ever work for that so-called Avengers."
"I still prefer being an ordinary high school student, tutoring the campus belle in physics problems every day."
Aaron picked up the bone china teacup, the steam from the rim blurring his brows and eyes.
He took a light sip, and a faint citrus fragrance dispersed across the tip of his tongue.
"However, if you really want to find an 'unlisted consultant'..."
Aaron put down the cup, his fingertips tracing circles absentmindedly on the desktop.
"It's not like I can't consider it."
"Provided that I need a bodyguard who can help me handle chores at any time and incidentally massage my shoulders when I want to sleep."
Fury's eye corners twitched frantically.
Bodyguard? Shoulder massage?
Looking at the lazy-looking young man opposite him, he wished he could slap that expensive mahogany coffee table.
But reason firmly held down his hand.
In his mind emerged the fist wind on the big screen that had sheared off the top floor of the building.
And Loki, who was currently in the kitchen, washing cartoon cat teacups with a look of utter humiliation.
The high school student in front of him was a walking nuclear warhead.
No, he was even more uncontrollable than a nuclear warhead.
A nuclear warhead at least had a launch silo and keys, whereas Aaron Parker, his keys were held only in his own mood.
Fury took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling violently.
He turned his head and looked toward the door.
"Natasha, come in."
Fury's voice was as heavy as a lead weight falling into a deep well.
The door slid open silently.
Natasha Romanoff walked in stepping in black tactical boots.
She walked very steadily, her shoulders without any unnecessary sway.
There was no expression on that cold and stunning face, except for those green eyes, which flickered slightly when sweeping across Aaron.
She stopped in the center of the living room, her spine held straight.
"Director." Natasha spoke, her voice clear and cold.
Fury did not look at her, instead staring fixedly at Aaron.
"Parker, I hope you remember what you just said. 'Unlisted consultant'."
Fury abruptly stood up, the hem of his long black trench coat flinging out a sharp arc.
He didn't go to pick up the popped-out ID card, and strode toward the entryway.
When passing by Natasha, his footsteps paused for half a second.
"Agent Romanoff, from now on, you have only one task."
Fury's voice was lowered very low, carrying a hint of frustration.
"Stay here and fulfill all of his... 'reasonable' demands."
The door closed heavily behind Fury.
A heavy door-closing sound came from the entryway.
The living room returned to that silence carrying a cedar fragrance.
Natasha stood in place, looking at Aaron.
She raised her hand and tucked the red hair beside her ear.
The corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, like rolling her eyes silently.
But soon, her tense shoulders relaxed.
She glanced around this eight-hundred-square-meter top-tier luxury mansion.
The constant-temperature central air conditioner blew out twenty-four-degree warm air.
Compared to that cold ferroalloy dormitory at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion headquarters.
Compared to the undercover life of diving into mud pits and dodging bullets all over the World every day.
Staying by the side of a monster who could boss gods around as butlers, possessed invincible combat power, and had hundreds of bottles of Romanée-Conti stored at home...
This didn't seem to be such a grueling chore.
At least, there was a sufficient sense of security here.
That absolute sense of security where even if the sky fell, the high school student opposite could slap it right back.
"Mr. Parker."
Natasha strode forward, her high heels treading out a slight indentation on the Persian rug.
She walked behind the sofa, looking down at Aaron from above.
"Since it's the Director's orders, then... let's start with a shoulder massage?"
She stretched out her slender fingers, her nails trimmed clean and rounded.
Aaron didn't look back, just comfortably resting his head on the sofa backrest.
"A bit harder on the left shoulder, I slept crookedly on the pillow last night."
He closed his eyes, his tone exuding a taken-for-granted arrogance.
Natasha's fingertips were slightly cool as they rested on Aaron's shoulders.
Her palms made contact with that thin white T-shirt.
She had expected to touch muscles as tight as rock, but the tactile feel upon contact was unexpectedly soft.
Only when she pressed down hard did she feel a heart-stopping toughness hidden beneath that skin.
That was a density not belonging to humans.
Gwen sat on the single-person sofa nearby, still clutching that physics exercise book in her hand.
She looked at Natasha who was massaging shoulders, and then looked at the tightly closed door.
"Aaron, did we just make the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director storm off in anger like that?"
Gwen asked in a low voice, her tone carrying a hint of lingering fear.
Mary Jane took a sip of cola, the ice cubes clinking loudly inside the aluminum can.
"Let him storm off; that black braised egg didn't look like someone to mess with anyway."
MJ unconcernedly shook her Dr. Martens boots.
"Though this older sister here, her massage technique looks quite professional."
She gave Natasha a provocative look.
Natasha didn't take up the thread, focusing solely on the movements of her hands.
Just as the atmosphere in the living room gradually became like an afternoon tea party.
"Boom—"
A dull roar, sounding like the Earth's core cracking, exploded without warning across the entire sky of Manhattan.
The sound was so heavy that it made the mansion's newly replaced explosion-proof glass windows vibrate and hum.
In the black tea cup on the coffee table, the water surface rippled with dense circles.
Aaron suddenly opened his eyes.
Deep within his pitch-black pupils, that extremely faint blue light lit up instantly.
God-level Prediction and Super Hearing were pushed to their limits in the exact same second.
He heard the crackling sound of the air being crudely ionized.
He heard the howling of some ancient energy source being forcibly activated inside that steel cage on the top floor of Stark Tower, several kilometers away.
"Aaron, look outside quickly!"
Gwen screamed, and the exercise book in her hand dropped to the floor with a thud.
The pages fluttered and scattered all over the floor.
Aaron stood up and walked over to that huge panoramic floor-to-ceiling window.
Sunlight vanished at that very moment.
The originally azure sky looked as if it had been fiercely torn open right down the center by a pair of invisible giant hands.
A dark blue beam of light, thick enough to induce despair,
gushed out from the top of Stark Tower a few kilometers away.
The light beam, carrying violent currents and arcs of spatial distortion, was like a pillar supporting the heavens leading to hell.
Pierced straight into the firmament of Manhattan.
At the end of the light beam,
the sky collapsed.
The heavy clouds were pulverized, transforming into a massive, pitch-black vortex.
That was a spatial wormhole that defied common physical sense.
Deep within the vortex emanated an aura of dead silence, coldness, and a heavy metallic fishy stench.
"Goodness..."
Mary Jane dropped the cola can.
The dark liquid spilled onto the expensive rug and quickly spread out like an indelible stain.
She stared blankly out the window, her pupils reflecting that blue light piercing through heaven and earth.
Thor threw away the pizza in his hand.
He abruptly stood up, his golden beard still trembling.
"It's the Tesseract..."
"That bastard Loki... he still opened the gate!"
Thor couldn't care about wiping the cheese from the corner of his mouth, and turned to rush toward the kitchen.
Natasha let go of Aaron's shoulders.
She subconsciously touched the pistol at her waist, her face turning pale.
As an Agent, she knew very well what this meant.
This was not a terrorist attack.
This was a war.
A full-scale invasion spanning across Planets and species.
The blue light beam grew brighter and brighter, stinging people's eyes painfully.
Deep within the wormhole, dense black dots began to vaguely emerge.
Accompanied by the sharp whistling sound of metal friction.
Aaron stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.
The blue light illuminated his profile, stretching his shadow very long on the wall behind.
He looked down at his short-sleeved shirt, as white as new.
And then looked at the gradually descending metal storm outside the window.
"Tch."
Aaron frowned, his tone revealing a deep sense of disgust.
"There is too much dust."
"If clothes get dirtied, they are quite hard to wash."