Nick Fury stared at the now-blank screens, his one good eye filled with a dead, weary light. He didn't say a word.
"Fury, do your job and don't interfere with our arrangements," an elderly official's voice had warned just before the feed cut out.
"Then this meeting is over," Fury had snapped, ending the conference before they could.
"How rude!" someone had muttered from the other side, a final, parting shot before the screens went completely dark.
"A bunch of profit-seeking politicians," Fury growled into the empty room. After venting his frustration, he walked out and addressed his lieutenant. "Hill, put in a requisition for more funds. The conference room is... broken."
"Hey, are you the president of this guild or am I?" Ilyana demanded, her voice sharp with frustration. "You have to understand, I fought Amon for this position. Without me, you wouldn't even be the vice president. You need to recognize your place!"
She had proposed a dozen good ideas, but the man with the mustache had shot down every single one, calling her naive.
Tony Stark leaned back in his chair, took a leisurely sip of his iced wine, and replied slowly, "Your thinking is that of an immature child. Oh, that's right, you are a child. I think you should just be the mascot and leave the actual decision-making to me, the adult in the room."
Ilyana was not convinced. "This is a superhero guild. Decisions should be made by powerful people with superpowers. Do you even have any? Or do you just hide in that tin can of yours?"
Tony smiled, a look of pure disdain on his face. He took another sip of his drink. "Having a brain is also a kind of power, one that's far more useful than just throwing energy blasts around. And as it happens, I am a genius. From my observations, you don't seem to possess that particular ability."
Ilyana's brow furrowed. This man's arrogance was even worse than Amon's. No wonder they had decided to work together; they were two of a kind.
"Alright, kid, just follow my instructions for the specific arrangements," Tony said, standing up. "I have other things to do, so I won't be playing with you anymore."
He turned and left the office. Watching his arrogant back, Ilyana felt a surge of anger. Then, a wicked idea sparked in her mind. Grasping the key-shaped necklace on her chest, she activated an ability she had recently recorded from Amon.
Tony walked toward the company's exit and stopped at the top of the stairs. A bad memory surfaced, and he shook his head. "This isn't that weird place. And I'm half the owner here."
One step, two steps, three steps... Tony's heart began to pound. Four steps, five, six... He was still no closer to the bottom of the three-step staircase.
"Damn it, who's messing with me now?" he cursed under his breath.
"Well, well, isn't it our great genius?" a voice called out. "Having trouble with the stairs again? Why don't you use that clever brain of yours to think of a solution? It should be easy!"
Ilyana sauntered past him, deliberately slowing her pace so he could clearly see her effortless descent. Then, with a flicker, she vanished.
"Damn it, petty woman!" Tony muttered. He knew she was getting back at him for his earlier comments. After seventeen long, frustrating minutes, he finally made it down the strange, looping stairs. He tapped the bracelet on his wrist, and a stream of data converged into the form of Jarvis.
"Sir, you summoned me?" Jarvis asked.
Tony frowned. "Jarvis, did you receive any signals from me in the last twenty minutes?"
Jarvis shook his head. "No, sir. Aside from this summons, the last message I received was this morning when you asked me to inform Ms. Potts of your departure. I have received nothing since."
Tony nodded grimly. "So, even electromagnetic waves can't get out of that field." His mind was already working on a way to counteract the ability. With Jarvis's help, he quickly returned to his private research facility outside New York, which he had converted into his personal base. He had intended to discuss company arrangements with Optimus Prime, having persuaded the Autobots to join Marvel to better integrate them into human society.
But as he arrived at the entrance and looked at the long flight of stairs leading down into the main lab, he gave up. He was tired and needed a rest.
"Jarvis," Tony called out, "get a team in here to remove all the stairs in this facility. They're an obstruction."
"Yes, sir," Jarvis replied. Though he didn't understand the reason, he immediately began to carry out the order.
"...You are the real superhero!"
Leon shot up from his sofa, his heart pounding with excitement. He was going to be a superhero.
"Mr. Star," he said to the voice in his head, "I'm going to be a superhero! What do you think?"
The voice of Mr. Star, one of Amon's clones, replied simply, "As you wish."
The day Leon and Agent Coulson had investigated the preaching clone, Amon had seen something special in the young man. He had split off a part of his consciousness, creating the persona of "Mr. Star," and parasitically attached it to Leon, becoming a sort of guide. This shallow-level parasitism caused no harm, though it could subtly influence the host's habits. It was a state that could be ended at any time, with the host returning to normal, albeit with a small fraction of their lifespan stolen. It was an advanced application of theft—stealing a portion of someone's life and identity.
Leon was a passionate young man who had always dreamed of being a hero like Captain America. He had joined S.H.I.E.L.D., drawn by its mission to protect the world. But the reality of being an agent was a disappointment. Not everyone got to save the world. Low-level agents like him were stuck with minor investigative tasks and were constantly under the thumb of Nick Fury.
He had lost his passion for the job, but the nature of S.H.I.E.L.D. made it impossible to just quit. Then, on a mission with Coulson, he met Mr. Star. Suddenly, Leon felt like a protagonist again. He had even awakened a cool ability, which Mr. Star had named "World Harmony." This power allowed him to manipulate luck and misfortune, to gather the bad luck in an area and focus it on a target, or to redistribute good luck to create incredible effects.
Mr. Star had told him he was drawn by this ability to control luck, and that he was there to help him grow. "This is the destiny of a protagonist," Leon had thought at the time. So, the next time Nick Fury assigned him a menial task, he flatly refused. He had never liked that man anyway.
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