[S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier – Director's Office]
Nick Fury sat in silence, his one good eye staring at the encrypted message glowing on his screen.
"Yo Fury, I'm in. When do I pick up my first paycheck?"
Illuminant.
This name had been hammering at Fury's mind for two damn hours.
First, the bastard rejects his offer. Then, he has the nerve to humiliate him—in front of his agents, no less. And now? Now he wants in?
Fury exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple.
This wasn't a victory. This wasn't a relief. This was just another goddamn headache.
But deep inside he knew, no matter his ego, Illuminant is a damn important asset for S.H.I.E.L.D, especially considering his powers, Fury didn't want to deal with all this. Just a few days back, Banner got back from wherever the hell he was, the world was saved from a universe-ending thread by some purple guy with glowing stones. Now this guy, HIM.
Fury leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled as he processed everything.
Illuminant was a damn enigma. His existence alone made zero sense, and that was coming from a man who had personally recruited a literal Norse god onto his team. A man- boy made of light, are you kidding me? He has a mother who could be taken hostage by us, not that we would, but the point is he is not afraid. Why?
A walking powerhouse, who did nothing during the attack on New York, and during Sokovia, and now he decides to show up, it does not make f***ing sense.
Fury scowled.
No. That wasn't entirely true.
He had everything on Illuminant.
Name. Birth records. Family history. School transcripts. Hell, even his goddamn favorite KFC order was in SHIELD's database.
But for all that intel, for all those files stacked a mile high… he couldn't do a damn thing to him.
Illuminant wasn't just off the grid—he was the grid. The moment Fury tried to put pressure on him, the moment he thought he had a lead, the bastard slipped right through his fingers like light itself.
Surveillance? Compromised.
Tracking devices? Useless.
Threats? Ignored.
They could know everything about him, but it didn't matter. Because there wasn't a damn force in this world—or any other—that could stop him. Captain Marvel couldn't care less about some random teenager with power but only Fury knew the danger Illuminant possessed.
Fury hated that.
He hated him.
And yet, he was about to let that smug, untouchable asshole walk right through SHIELD's front door.
He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose.
This was either the worst mistake he'd ever made…
Or the smartest.
[1st POV]
Ah, money. The great equalizer. The universal motivator. The one thing that could make even the mighty Director Fury set aside his pride and tolerate my existence.
I strolled down the Helicarrier's corridors, taking in the ultra-high-tech spy aesthetic with a smug grin. Agents bustled around, whispering to each other, and side-eyeing me like I was some kind of anomaly. Which, to be fair, I absolutely was. But you know what else is an anomaly... KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN! DAMN!
My boots barely made a sound as I walked. Not because I was sneaky—no, I wanted them to hear me coming—but because light didn't exactly weigh much, and I wasn't always great at pretending to obey the laws of physics.
I stepped into Fury's office like I owned the place.
"Fury, my guy! Good to see you!" I greeted, throwing my arms open like we were old war buddies.
Fury didn't even look up. His hands were clasped together, elbows resting on his desk, as he fixed me with that signature I-hate-your-existence-but-I-need-you stare.
"You're late," he said, voice dry as the Sahara.
I checked my wrist, despite not wearing a watch. "What? Nah, man, I'm right on time. Illuminant Standard Time, ever heard of it? It's when I show up exactly when I feel like it."
Fury exhaled slowly, like he was restraining himself from launching me off the Helicarrier.
"Sit."
I flopped into the chair across from him, making sure to kick my feet up onto his desk just to see how much I could push his patience. He didn't react. Damn.
"So," I said, lacing my fingers behind my head. "Where's my first mission? Saving the world? Punching interdimensional threats? Or, ooooh, am I doing some top-secret espionage? I've always wanted to say, 'You just got Illuminated' after knocking someone out."
Fury closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Opened it again.
"Your first mission," he said slowly, "is to shut the hell up and listen."
I blinked. "Damn. That was cold."
"You rejected SHIELD. Then mocked SHIELD. Now you're here. That tells me you want something."
"Wow. What an absolutely insane deduction, Sherlock. I can see why they made you director."
Fury's eye twitched.
I smirked. I lived to be an inconvenience.
"Fine," I said, dropping my feet from the desk and leaning forward. "You're right. I want in. And before you go on some long-winded speech about trust and loyalty, let's skip the formalities. You don't trust me. I don't trust you. But we both know I'm too valuable to ignore. But the significant need is..... drum roll~ money!"
Fury stared at me, expression unreadable, but I could feel the irritation radiating off him like a space heater set to "murder."
"Money," he repeated flatly.
"Yup." I leaned back in the chair, stretching my arms behind my head. "Cash. Dough. Greenbacks. The almighty dollar. You think I'm gonna risk my neck out there for patriotism? Please. I want a steady paycheck, benefits, and—" I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "—unlimited KFC access. I know you guys have secret supply chains. Hook. Me. Up on that shit!"
Fury closed his eyes, took a long, suffering breath, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "I hate my life."
"Let me get this straight," he said, voice tight with barely contained irritation. "You—an untouchable, light-based, possibly interdimensional headache—are willing to work for SHIELD."
"Correct."
"And all you want... is money."
"Correct again. Also, KFC."
He stared at me, probably wondering how long it would take to strangle a being made of light.
"...I should throw you off this Helicarrier."
"You could try."
Fury pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Do you want money? I'll pay you. But if you think for one second I'm giving you full clearance or letting you run wild—"
"Oh, Fury, Fury, Fury." I tsked, shaking my head. "You're thinking too small. I don't need full clearance. I already know everything worth knowing."
His eye snapped up to mine.
Bingo. Hook, line, and sinker.
I grinned, letting just a fraction of my power flicker in my eyes. "Come on, Director. We both know the real reason you're letting me in. It's not because I asked. It's because you're scared of what I'll do if you say no."
Fury didn't answer. He didn't need to. The tension in the room spoke for itself.
I stood up, stretching. "Cool. So, where do I sign? And do I get a badge? Wait, how much exactly are you paying?"
Then, with the patience of a saint—or a man with no better options—he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
"You'll be on contract," Fury said slowly, like he was explaining quantum physics to a toddler. "Meaning we pay you per mission. No base salary, no pension, no benefits, and definitely no unlimited KFC."
I gasped, placing a dramatic hand over my chest. "Fury, you wound me! No benefits? No fried chicken? What kind of cruel, heartless organization is this?"
"The kind that doesn't negotiate with arrogant, overpowered brats," Fury deadpanned.
I smirked. "Ah, so just the standard spy gig, then? How much per mission?"
Fury's eye narrowed. "Depends on the mission."
I raised an eyebrow. "Well, considering that any mission I go on is immediately classified as 'solved,' I'd say my going rate should be… oh, I don't know, a million per job?"
There was a long, suffocating pause. The kind of silence that, in some cultures, was immediately followed by violence.
Fury stared at me. I stared back.
Then, he let out a sharp laugh—short, humorless, and very much "I will murder you if I could."
"You think SHIELD is made of money?"
"Considering you guys fund secret space stations, helicarriers, and goddamn flying cars?" I spread my arms. "Yeah, kinda."
Fury exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Half a million."
"One million."
"Three hundred thousand."
"One million."
"Two hundred thousand."
"One mil-li-on."
"One hundred thousand."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're going the wrong way."
"You think I don't know that?" Fury snapped, his patience finally cracking. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain to the world security council why I suddenly need to allocate seven figures for a smug asshole with a light show?"
"Tell them it's for national security. That's your go-to excuse, right? I'm a man of radiant illuminance, c'mon my ni.... nightingale."
Fury glared, but I could tell he was weighing his options.
Eventually, he sighed. "Fine. Five hundred thousand per mission. Take it or leave it."
I leaned back, pretending to think it over.
On one hand, I could push for more. On the other… I just wanted to see how far I could push him before he had an aneurysm.
"Deal," I said, holding out a hand. "Oh, and throw in a SHIELD badge. I want to flash it dramatically at people. Like FBI! OPEN UP!"
Fury eyed my hand like it was a live grenade, then—very, very reluctantly—shook it.
"Welcome to SHIELD," he muttered. "God help us all."
I grinned. "Oh, I will."
Fury stared at me like he was reevaluating every life decision that had brought him to this moment. And, honestly? Fair.
I, on the other hand, was thriving.
"So," I said, clapping my hands together. "Now that we've settled my compensation package—which, by the way, is still an insult to my radiant magnificence—when do I start?"
Fury didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tapped a button on his desk. A second later, the door behind me hissed open, and in walked Maria Hill, looking as professional and vaguely unimpressed as ever.
"Agent Hill," Fury said, without looking at her. "Escort our new… contractor… to his quarters. Give him the basics, keep him out of classified areas, and if he tries anything funny, shoot him."
Hill glanced at me. "Will that even work?"
I gasped dramatically, placing a hand over my chest. "Maria! I'm wounded. You think I'd cause trouble on my first day?"
She didn't answer. Just stared at me like she was debating whether shooting me now would save everyone the headache later.
Fury waved a dismissive hand. "Just get him out of my sight before I change my mind."
I grinned, giving him a lazy salute. "Pleasure doing business with you, boss."
Fury's eye twitched. Oh, this was going to be fun.
[S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier – Hallways]
Maria Hill led me down the sleek, high-tech corridors of the Helicarrier, her pace brisk and efficient. I, of course, sauntered behind her like I had all the time in the world. Which, in my case, was technically true.
"You know," I mused, hands behind my head, "for a top-secret spy organization, SHIELD really has a thing for big, dramatic hallways. Ever think about cutting down on the ominous lighting budget?"
Hill ignored me. Professional. Cold. Efficient.
But I could see the slight twitch in her jaw. The subtle tension in her shoulders. Oh yeah. She was already regretting this.
"So, where exactly are you taking me? Please say it's some kind of high-tech bachelor pad with a minibar and an amazing view."
Hill stopped in front of a door, pressed a button on the panel, and the door slid open, revealing…
A plain, standard-issue SHIELD dorm. Bed. Desk. Locker. Zero personality.
I stared at it. Then at her. Then back at the room.
"...Are you kidding me?"
She gave me a neutral look. "This is where you'll be staying during missions. Standard SHIELD contractor accommodations."
"Standard? Standard?! Do I look like a 'standard' anything to you?" I gestured to myself. "I'm literally glowing, Hill. I should at least get some mood lighting!"
"Take it up with requisitions," she deadpanned.
I narrowed my eyes. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Immensely."
I sighed dramatically, stepping into the room. "Fine. But I'm putting in a formal complaint. I demand a minibar, a hot tub, and at least one piece of modern art to tie the room together."
Hill didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, she handed me a sleek, black SHIELD ID badge.
"Here," she said. "Limited clearance. Don't lose it."
I snatched it, twirling it between my fingers before flashing it at her like an FBI agent. "Step aside, ma'am. SHIELD business. Very classified. Extremely important. Now f*** off."
Hill sighed. "I already hate this."
"Aw, c'mon. You'll warm up to me," I said, winking. "Eventually."
She turned on her heel. "Briefing in one hour. Try not to set anything on fire before then."
I gasped, hand over my chest. "Maria! I would never!"
She gave me a flat look.
"...Okay, maybe once. But that was a misunderstanding."
She walked away without another word, leaving me alone in my depressingly basic room.
I sighed. "Alright, the first order of business—how do I hack the SHIELD requisition system for an unlimited KFC supply?"