Nolan frowned as malicious gazes locked onto them. The Human God pattern on his core glowed faintly, picking up every whispered word.
"Get ready. These rich pigs look loaded," one voice hissed.
"Reed, too many people here to act," another cautioned.
"Idiot, lure them somewhere quiet. I've had my eye on that redhead," came the reply.
"I'll take the small one," another sneered.
A cold glint flashed in Nolan's eyes, his stare icy enough to freeze blood.
"Godfather?" Damian's voice trembled, sensing Nolan's killing intent.
The aura vanished. Nolan gently ruffled Damian's hair. "Sorry, I scared you."
"Who made you angry?" Damian asked, looking up.
"Not angry, just thought of something unpleasant." Nolan's smile was warm, soothing. Who stays mad at the dead?
Several figures approached, including a striking woman. She neared Nolan, stumbled dramatically—and before she could speak, an FBI agent's knee slammed into her neck. She crumpled, unconscious or worse.
The surrounding store staff barely had time to react.
"FBI. Apprehending a criminal gang," the agent barked, glancing at Nolan and breaking into a cold sweat. He knew Nolan's blurry image from that night—enough to know this man could doom a nation.
The other thugs tried to bolt but were swiftly pinned by plainclothes agents and dragged away. The whole takedown took under thirty seconds.
"Mr. Nolan, long time no see," Coulson said, approaching with a warm smile, holding a bag of drinks.
He offered one. "Eastern drink. Tastes great."
Nolan took it, noting the green packaging with two English letters. His mouth twitched—Marvel Universe, really? He opened a bottle for Damian.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. monitoring me?" Nolan asked, eyes sharp.
Coulson's smile didn't waver. "Just watching malls."
Truthfully, after confirming Nolan's power, S.H.I.E.L.D. avoided direct surveillance. But cameras in traffic and malls flagged Nolan's group, alerting them.
"Fine." Nolan's expression softened. Free bodyguards weren't bad.
"I don't want to see them again," he said.
"Death row by this afternoon," Coulson replied. His kind face hid a Level 8 agent's ruthlessness—Hawkeye was only Level 7.
"Where've you been, Mr. Nolan?" Coulson asked casually, eyes probing.
"Nick Fury's question?" Nolan countered, watching Venom's fashion show.
Coulson shrugged. "Fury hasn't slept well since you vanished."
"Pay for my shopping, and I'll tell you," Nolan said lightly.
"Deal," Coulson agreed instantly.
"Fought other Hell Lords, stole treasures. Simple," Nolan said.
"Other Hells? More than one?" Coulson's eyes widened.
"Ten, including mine," Nolan dropped the bombshell.
"Ten!" Coulson gasped.
Nolan laughed at his shock. "You think I'm lying? Ten Demon Kings would've wrecked Earth if not for the Mystics blocking them."
"Mystics?" Coulson asked.
"Ancient order, millions of years old. They guard Earth from demon gods, unlike S.H.I.E.L.D.," Nolan said, admiration in his voice.
Coulson stared, speechless. How'd you get in?
"I have connections," Nolan smirked. The Sorcerer Supreme's silence implied approval.
Coulson started to ask more, but Nolan stood. "Question answered. Handle the purchases. Say hi to Fury—hope he sleeps now."
Coulson gave a wry smile as Nolan left with the group. Sleep? Not after that bombshell.
"Officer, the clothes?" an agent asked, pointing to a pile.
"Pay and deliver to the manor," Coulson sighed.
"We're short on funds," the agent admitted.
"I'll cover it," Coulson groaned. Luxury clothes cost thousands—S.H.I.E.L.D. would reimburse him.
Nolan's group hit more stores, enjoying fashion shows and buying freely. Spending S.H.I.E.L.D.'s money felt better than his own.
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