Fury didn't say a word leaving Stark's house. He slid into the passenger seat, chin jerking toward Natasha—drive.
They made it back to HQ in silence. In the garage, Natasha parked, then nodded at Bob. "Protocol. Medical first." The man moved off toward screening without complaint.
Back in the car, Fury still hadn't budged. He sat in the dim, a storm behind one eye. Natasha popped the trunk, retrieved a diagnostic unit, and handed it over.
Fury rubbed the ache at his brow before running the scan. "You heard everything," he said. "Thoughts?"
Natasha weighed her words. "Director, I don't know what you saw when that… elf walked in. We were in Stark's house. Do you believe in wizards, or do you believe Stark built a robot? Don't forget—Austin hypnotizes. He could've planted visuals in your head."
Fury shook his head, cutting her off. "I'm not debating whether wizards exist. I'm asking—" He let the silence drag, then narrowed his eye. "If a powerful group had you flagged as a threat, what would you do?"
"Disappear," Natasha said instantly. "New face, low profile, ghost life."
Fury nodded. "And if they finally caught you after you'd trained up—if you knew they wouldn't risk killing you—then they tried to fish for intel. What would you do?"
"Seize the tempo," she said. "Make them follow my rhythm. Or, if I couldn't—derail. Dangle bait, half-true, half-false, until they can't tell which way is up."
She frowned. "So—if Austin's really a wizard, the hiding made sense when he was weak. Sitting across from you now? That means he thinks he can handle us. And calling you 'Egg'? That wasn't just disrespect. It was to rattle you, throw off your read. Posturing."
Hearing "Egg" again, Fury grimaced, rubbing his scalp. "That was my take too. Especially the line about Kreacher snapping if he dies. That's a deterrent. A dead man's switch. Says he's prepared for the worst precisely because he's not invincible."
Natasha shrugged. "He doesn't know us. We don't kill civilians."
Fury's jaw tightened. He remembered Austin dragging Hydra out into the open. "Wrong. He knows us too well. Better than I'd like. Maybe better than I do. That's why he warned me off—because he knows what's inside us."
He let that sit, then allowed himself a thin smile. "Still got something out of it."
Natasha checked the scanner—no signs of hypnosis. "What did you get?"
"Odds are he is what he says. Wizard. And he really can erase a nation."
Natasha rolled her eyes. Wizard? No. "Erase a nation" sounded more like command-and-control tech—hypnosis scaled up.
She was about to argue when Fury added, quiet: "Remember the team combing the desert after Stark's return? I told them to keep looking. They found evidence Austin's been living out there alone for years. Combine that with his claim…"
Natasha blinked. "If he's solo, then whatever capability he has is WMD-level. But if he's that strong, why muddy the water with chatter?"
Fury's mouth ticked. "Because plenty of enhanced can level a building. Doesn't mean they walk away from an artillery shell. My bet? The great wizard Austin still turns to paste if a shell lands on him." He exhaled. "He's afraid of dying. That's the good news."
And he wasn't wrong. Li Ming feared death. All the banter had been to keep Hydra from learning too much. If they realized his strength grew with study, they'd chain him to a lab until the day he broke. The RV could shield him, but not forever. Invisibility fooled eyes, not thermal scopes. Eight hundred yards, one sniper, and his life ended in a flash.
Fury broke the silence. "What'd you find near Stark's place?"
Natasha's shrug carried weight. "Brace yourself. It's not good."
Fury lifted a hand. "Hit me."
"Tire tracks. Out of nowhere, right in front of Stark's garage. From the imprint, the vehicle landed. I sent scans to Tech. Want to guess whose treads they matched?"
Fury's look said he wasn't in the mood for games.
"Austin's RV. Portland prints matched. Highway cams show nothing. Which means either he portaled straight from Stark Industries… or he flew it."
Fury narrowed his eye. "He can cloak. Air Traffic see anything—helicopter profile?"
"Already checked. Nothing clean. Team canvassed Stark Industries too. Employees say Stark came down from the top floor. Roof had fresh tire marks—same RV signature. ATC logged an unidentified launch from the tower to the Malibu coast. Satellites saw nothing. No rotor wash, no sound. They wrote it off as a glitch."
Her phone chimed. She took the call, listened, hung up. "Confirmed. Same signature on the roof. That RV flew."
Fury thumbed through his phone, passed it over. "Stark's recent orders."
Natasha scanned the list, eyes narrowing. "Not just stealth-airframe materials." She thought it through. "Austin wants Stark to retrofit the RV. Make it undetectable—radar, thermal, everything."
A wizard with a flying, invisible RV carving through his airspace. Fury's skull added three pounds.
He pressed fingers to his brow, drew a long breath, then opened the door. "Purge Austin's digital files. All of them. Paper only. I'll keep it myself."
That night in Malibu, after Fury's exit and Bob's quiet departure, the house settled and dinner called.
When Bob left, Li Ming caught the faint curl of a smirk at the man's mouth—as if to say the servitude contract didn't bind him. Truth was, Bob had never passed along a scrap of intel in years. Li Ming had long suspected the demon found ways to skirt the letter of the vow. Tonight only confirmed it.
That was fine. Bob had always been an experiment. If it worked, great. If not, revise and try again. The only question was how far Bob could push the loopholes.
Judging by Fury's face, Bob hadn't told S.H.I.E.L.D. anything about him. At least the contract wasn't useless.
Fury hadn't been gone long when Pepper breezed in from the kitchen, a smear of sauce at the corner of her mouth, glowing. "Dinner is magic—literally. I couldn't stand just smelling it. Kreacher's incredible. I want to hire a house-elf at a very high salary just to pamper my stomach."
At "salary," Li Ming winced, suddenly picturing Kreacher unleashing a string of blistering insults. "Kreacher, check the herb garden," he called quickly.
Pepper blinked, glanced at the table set for four. "He can't eat our food? I bought enough for him too."
Stark knew why Li Ming had sent the elf away—avoid another scene. He shrugged. "They eat what we eat. But house-elves serve wizards without pay. Calling it compensation is… an insult. And—" he tapped his temple, lowering his voice, "Kreacher's been through nonhuman levels of torture. Don't provoke him. His mouth could make you question your life choices."
Pepper paused, then gave Li Ming an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I didn't know. I'll apologize to him."
Li Ming shook his head as they moved to the table. "No need. Praise and meaningful work are the highest honors for their kind."
Pepper eyed the spread, doubtful. "Washing dishes counts as 'meaningful work'?"
"Yes." Li Ming speared a slice of steak. "The more you let a house-elf work, the happier he is. It's how he proves his worth."
Stark pulled out Pepper's chair, all charm. "Unpaid happiness. Exactly why I envy Austin. Loyal, free personal chef."
Pepper couldn't quite swallow that. It sounded like servitude dressed up as tradition. But Kreacher was Li Ming's creature, not hers. She let it go, set her steak on the plate.
Catching her flicker of discomfort, Stark pivoted. "So. What's the plan? Back to the desert for your phoneless, Paleolithic lifestyle?"
Li Ming's knife paused. Going phoneless was deliberate; he knew his self-control wasn't great. Another life, he'd been glued to a screen. In this world, power meant survival. A smartphone meant wasted training time. Friends? Few. Portals beat phone calls.
As for the desert—the timeline was bending around Iron Man now, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had eyes on him. No point in eating sand again. New York was fine, but he needed space to train. Real space. He couldn't sling spells in the city without becoming a headline—or a headache for the Sanctum. He could handle most mystics, but behind them loomed the Ancient One. Swat the apprentice, invite the master. A door he wasn't ready to open.
So what then? Can't fight, but must train. Need room.
He scratched his head. "Is there a no-man's-land near New York? The bigger the better. Some spells get… loud."
Stark raised a glass, amused. "Asking me? Funniest thing I've heard all day." He looked to Pepper. "If I needed uninhabited land for dangerous testing, what would I do?"
Pepper rolled her eyes. "Historically? You'd go to a desert—or buy property and clear it of everything alive."
"See?" Stark sipped. "Problem solving."
Money really did change the rules, Li Ming thought. He spread his hands. "Do I look like I can buy a reserve? Unless I auction half my magical kit, I can't even pay land tax. And you think Mr. Egg would approve?" He sighed. "I'd take something near the suburbs. Not too far. Gets lonely."
Stark wagged a finger. "I mean I'll buy the land. You live there."
Li Ming considered. He needed an empty buffer, or ironclad security—one stray hiker during a blast test and it'd be on him. Sure, he could park the RV on a mountain peak and play bandit-king, but accidents happened. And Stark was rich, not reckless.
"What's the catch?" Li Ming asked. "Lay it out."
Stark flicked a glance at Pepper, used the shrug to gesture at the reactor in his chest. "You didn't give me enough of that potion to study. I want more. Call the land… a lease paid in elixirs."
Pepper's brows lifted—potions? A trace of worry crept in. Something doctors couldn't fix? "What potions? What do they do?"
Before Li Ming could say "palladium," Stark jumped in: "Nothing dramatic. Therapeutic stuff. I've shut down weapons manufacturing; I'm exploring biotech. Miracle medicine sells. Gotta keep the Stark valuation up."
Terrible cover, Li Ming thought, but he nodded to Pepper anyway, backing the lie with a smile. He reached into his shoulder bag and offered her two vials of different colors. "This one boosts complexion for a short time—like a high-end spray before a gala. You're already stunning; this just turns heads faster."
He lifted the second. "And this is a restorative. Topical or oral. Disinfects and closes wounds fast. Bones too, if set first. With that done, the patient will be on their feet in minutes."
Magical potions with miraculous claims—and Pepper couldn't quite refuse. She thanked him, tucking them into her purse.
Good. One less thing for her to overthink, Stark thought, relaxing as he raised his glass. "To our partnership."
Li Ming clinked. "Almost forgot—J.A.R.V.I.S., I need a favor."
"No problem," Stark said, glancing up at a camera. "J.A.R.V.I.S., Austin's asking."
"Good evening, Mr. Austin," the AI answered warmly. "Whom shall I find?"
"Ben Parker."
In an instant, a projection bloomed—hundreds of Ben Parkers, each with a headshot and stub bio. Too many. Some were women. Li Ming rubbed his temples. Parents really named their daughters "Ben"?
"Filter," he said. "Male. New York. Queens. Wife named May. Nephew named Peter Parker."
A moment later, Uncle Ben's profile hovered before him.
Stark skimmed the file, curious. "Family?"
Li Ming shook his head, smiling at the photo. "Not by blood. But he's one of the good ones. A rare kind."