S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters – The Lair of Wana be Batman
At the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Director Nick Fury sat behind his polished desk, the dim lights of his office casting shadow across the room. The walls were lined with classified files and glowing monitors displaying real-time intelligence from around the world. It was business as usual—until the door burst open without so much as a knock.
"Director Fury!" An agent stumbled inside, barely catching his breath.
Fury's eye narrowed, his single piercing gaze locking onto the flustered operative. "This better be good."
The agent straightened, attempting to recover some dignity. "Sir, it's Tony Stark. He's back."
Fury's brow furrowed. "Back? As in, back-back?"
"Yes, sir. Tony Stark was seen leaving a bar in downtown New York at approximately 10 P.M."
The director's expression darkened. It wasn't that Fury disliked Stark; he just disliked surprises.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was the most powerful intelligence organization on Earth. Fury prided himself on knowing about things before anyone else did.
Hydra remnants? He knew. [His home is already taken over.]
Secret alien refugees? Already on it. [anyway, he thinks he is.]
Tony Stark's bowel movements? Well... almost. [he might really know]
But somehow, Stark had returned to U.S. soil without Fury even hearing a whisper of it. That unsettled him.
"Are you absolutely sure about this?"
"Yes, sir. Witnesses at the bar confirmed it was Stark."
"And when exactly were we planning to find out about his miraculous return?" Fury's voice was low and measured, though it carried the weight of someone accustomed to always being in the know.
The agent swallowed nervously. "Sir, we're still gathering information. Agents were dispatched immediately. We should have a full report by tomorrow morning."
Fury leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. The name Stark held considerable weight. Howard Stark had been one of the founding pillars of S.H.I.E.L.D., and his son, though far more unpredictable, was undeniably a genius. And geniuses were never just lucky — something didn't add up.
"You're telling me Stark waltzes out of a terrorist cave in the middle of nowhere, no formal extraction, no military escort, and no debrief?
The agent cleared his throat. "It seems so, sir. We're still awaiting confirmation on how he managed to escape."
Fury stood, his imposing frame casting a long shadow across the desk. "Something's off. Stark doesn't just come back without setting off every alarm in the intelligence community. We should've had eyes on him the second he crossed the border. I want a detailed report on my desk the moment it's ready."
"Understood, sir."
The agent gave a sharp nod and quickly retreated, leaving Fury alone once more.
Fury turned toward the massive glass window overlooking the bustling headquarters. He tapped his earpiece. "Hill, I need a personal briefing on Stark's movements.
"On it, Director," Maria Hill's voice responded calmly.
Fury's jaw tightened. Tony Stark wasn't just a billionaire genius. He was the son of a legacy that had shaped the very foundation of S.H.I.E.L.D. And now that legacy had just re-emerged under suspicious circumstances.
his father was one of the founders of S.H.I.E.L.D., and he had inherited his father's genius. So Fury always kept an eye on him. But for now, Tony Stark wasn't the top priority. Still, after his kidnapping, Fury had sent agents to investigate in Afghanistan. His operatives should have been the first to report any developments regarding Stark's rescue. Yet, somehow, the man had returned without a whisper reaching his ears.
That uneasy feeling in Fury's gut only grew stronger.
"Welcome back, Stark," Fury muttered to himself, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Let's see what kind of trouble you've brought with you this time."
He had a feeling the real fun was only just beginning.
Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.
—
Eric's home
"It is very rude of you to mention a lady's age, you little brat."
BOP!
Eric barely had time to react before Rebecca's fist came crashing down on his head. He clutched his skull in pain, groaning dramatically. "Ow! What was that for?! I was just making an observation!"
"Observing how to get yourself killed, apparently," Rebecca huffed, crossing her arms.
The Ancient One chuckled, her serene demeanor unshaken as always. "Now, now, let's not fight."
Eric, still rubbing his head, sighed in defeat. "Alright, alright, let's eat. I'm way too tired to argue."
The trio sat down at the table, their dinner for the evening: instant noodles. Despite their mystical guest's presence, there was something oddly humbling about sharing a simple meal together.
That being said, Rebecca wasted no time bombarding the Ancient One with an endless stream of questions.
"So, do you ever get bored watching over the world?"
"What's your skincare routine? Your skin is amazing."
"How many calories does opening a portal burn? Asking for a friend."
To Eric's surprise, the Ancient One answered each question with the patience of a saint and the warmth of a mother, her gentle smile never wavering.
Eric quietly observed her, and his respect for her grew even more. He had always liked her character in the movies—protecting the world in silence, suffering alone for centuries, shouldering a burden no one else could bear. But seeing her now, smiling kindly, treating them like they were her own children… his impression of her skyrocketed to a whole new level.
At the same time, the Ancient One was also watching him carefully. His interactions with Rebecca weren't forced, nor were they mere habits left over from his previous life. They were genuine, emotional connections—something rare for beings who had ascended to higher levels of existence.
"There are still things in this world beyond my understanding," she thought with a pleased smile.
Once their humble dinner was finished, the Ancient One stood up and gracefully opened a golden portal. "You already know where my sanctum is. You're always welcome to visit."
Rebecca looked like she wanted to protest, but before she could say anything, the Ancient One continued, "And my apologies for dropping by uninvited."
She gave them one final smile before stepping through the portal and disappearing.
As soon as she was gone, Rebecca's expression changed instantly. Gone was the polite, inquisitive girl—and in her place was a lazy tyrant.
"Eric, clean up. I'm going to bed." She yawned, stretching like a cat before flopping onto the couch.
Eric raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? Who died and made you queen?"
Rebecca shot him a look. "Because of you, my beautiful face almost got destroyed. Do you see these dark circles?! Do you?! I need my beauty sleep. So keep it down tonight, unless you want to be ****."
Eric opened his mouth to argue, but one glance at her murderous expression made him reconsider. With a deep sigh, he muttered, "Fine. Sleep tight, oh mighty tyrant."
Rebecca was already half-asleep, waving him off dismissively. "I shall."
But even as he grumbled, a small smile tugged at his lips. Because no matter how ridiculous things there was something oddly comforting about it all.
After all, he grownup in this familiar chaos.