In a shadowed corner where no one was watching, a man in a black suit quietly adjusted his tactical glasses — the same model used by Coulson. Through the lens, every frame of Lucas summoning the Zodiac Meteor and its fiery descent was perfectly recorded.
Far away, in a heavily fortified stronghold buried in endless snow, a man wearing a monocle sat motionless before a massive screen. The cold blue light of the video flickered across his face as he stared, entranced.
"Marvelous… absolutely marvelous…"
A faint tremor ran through his voice — half awe, half madness.
"What overwhelming power… this is divine grace itself! That young man… he will be the key to our future. We must obtain him!"
He rewound the footage, again and again, freezing the frame at the moment when Lucas stood with arms outstretched beneath the falling meteor, like a god descending upon the world.
"No matter the cost," he whispered hoarsely, leaning close to the screen, "we will have him."
---
Meanwhile, Lucas stood before the ruins, gazing over the cratered wasteland. Only when he confirmed that nothing strange remained did he turn toward the others.
"Why are you all staring at me like that? Do I have something on my face?"
He checked his shirt and sleeves — perfectly fine.
"Lucas…" Natasha finally spoke, her tone caught between awe and disbelief. "Are you… even human?"
The question hung heavy in the air.
Their unease wasn't unfounded. If today Lucas could summon a thirty-meter-wide meteor with ease, what about tomorrow? A hundred meters? A thousand? A single gesture could level a city — who could feel safe around that?
"What kind of question is that? You're the ghost! Your whole family's ghosts!"
Lucas rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Seriously, what's wrong with you people?"
Coulson muttered under his breath, "If I didn't know you better, I'd have hauled you to the lab already… for dissection."
---
With the crisis over, the cleanup was naturally left to S.H.I.E.L.D. It wasn't their first time handling a mess of this scale. Lucas, Natasha, Barton, and Frank all returned with Blade to his safehouse.
"So," Frank asked, rare initiative showing on his usually stony face, "what's next for you, Blade?"
Blade leaned back on the couch, beer in hand, finally looking relaxed.
"New York's vampires are dealt with, but there's still activity elsewhere. I heard Atlanta's crawling with them — thinking of heading there."
Natasha smiled faintly. "Our Director still wants to recruit you, you know."
Blade shook his head. "No thanks. Your merry little boy band isn't my thing. But if you run into more bloodsuckers, I'll help."
Natasha sighed. "You guys all rehearsed this, didn't you? Every one of you refuses us the same way."
The room broke into laughter. Even Frank — the eternal iceberg — cracked a grin.
"We just don't want to be leashed," Frank said calmly. "Once you let officials or billionaires control you, you stop being heroes — you become their blades. And those blades… eventually turn on the people we're supposed to protect."
Natasha nodded slowly. "You're not wrong."
Even Barton gave a silent nod of agreement.
They all knew the truth — they'd done their share of shadow ops, taken lives without knowing who or why. Tonight, for once, they weren't agents or vigilantes. Just people — comrades who had survived hell together, drinking, laughing, and pretending the world was normal.
---
By the next morning, the safehouse was a battlefield of empty bottles and groans.
Even the legendary Black Widow and Hawkeye were suffering from hangovers.
After saying their goodbyes, everyone went their separate ways.
The female doctor was quietly recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. — no surprise there. A mind capable of crafting an anti-vampire serum under those conditions was far too valuable to let go.
As for Lucas, his agency didn't even open for business that day. Both boss and employee were still passed out. Only Moguri the little creature was awake, half-asleep and blowing snot bubbles behind the counter.
---
Just as Lucas drifted deeper into his nap, his phone buzzed incessantly. He groggily answered.
"Kid, that little stunt you pulled last night was impressive," Tony Stark's teasing voice drawled through the speaker. "When are you coming over so Uncle Tony can study that meteor of yours?"
Lucas rubbed his temple. "Study what? I'm exhausted, Tony. Either get to the point or let me sleep."
"Oooh, look at you — all grown up and staying out late, huh? Need Uncle Tony to introduce you to a few premium models?"
"Go to hell," Lucas grumbled, and hung up before Stark could finish.
Tony blinked at the dead line, then scowled.
"That brat hung up on me? Me, Tony Stark?! Jarvis, warm up the car — I'm dragging that kid out of bed myself!"
Moments later, his beloved limited-edition Audi roared out of the garage, a full chef team packed in behind him.
By the time he reached Lucas's apartment complex, it was already noon. The office door was still shut tight.
Tony sighed dramatically. "Seriously? I've been up for hours and this kid's still asleep?"
Losing patience, he marched straight in after getting Lucas's room number from the building manager.
Bang bang!
"Kid! Rise and shine!" Tony shouted, pounding on the door like a hooligan.
The commotion drew out half the building's tenants.
But when they saw Tony Stark himself standing there, they instantly lit up — snapping photos, asking for autographs.
Because really, who in America didn't know Iron Man?
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