I flopped onto the bed—hard mattress, standard-issue pillows, not a single ounce of luxury. This was an insult. A being of my radiant magnificence, forced to sleep on a glorified plank? Unacceptable.
But priorities.
I pulled out my shiny new SHIELD ID and spun it between my fingers, grinning. Limited clearance, my ass. They could slap whatever restrictions they wanted on this thing, but I was already plugged into their system the moment I stepped onboard.
I snapped my fingers, and a faint pulse of light rippled through the room. Just a tiny, imperceptible flicker—nothing that would trip their alarms. And just like that, SHIELD's network was my playground.
Now, for the important matters.
"Computer," I whispered dramatically, even though there was no AI assistant. "Show me the location of SHIELD's classified KFC stockpiles."
My vision flickered as data poured into my brain. Satellite shipments. Hidden supply routes. VIP-only food storage in the Level 7 breakroom.
I grinned.
"Found you."
Before I could act on my totally justified heist, the intercom crackled to life.
"Contractor Illuminant, report to Mission Briefing Room C in five minutes."
Ugh. Already?
I sighed, rolling out of bed. Fine. I'd play along.
But later?
Later, there would be chicken.
[S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier – Mission Briefing Room C]
I strolled into the room like I owned it, hands in my pockets, exuding raw confidence and mild disrespect for authority. Fury, Maria Hill, and a couple of high-ranking SHIELD agents were seated around the holo-table, looking all serious and spy-like.
"Ah, my adoring fans," I greeted, throwing up jazz hands. "Have no fear—Illuminant has arrived."
No one reacted.
Tough crowd.
Fury barely glanced up. "Sit down."
"Wow, straight to business? No welcome speech? No 'we're so glad you're here, Illuminant, our radiant savior'?" I dramatically clutched my chest. "Fury, you wound me."
Hill sighed audibly. I was really starting to love that sound.
I plopped into the chair and propped my feet up on the table. Fury shot me a look that could curdle milk, but he didn't tell me to stop. Progress.
A holographic map flickered to life in the center of the table.
"Intel suggests HYDRA remnants are moving a stolen experimental energy core through Madripoor," Fury said. "It's powerful, unstable, and if it falls into the wrong hands—"
"Blah, blah, world-ending disaster, got it." I waved my hand. "Skip to the part where you tell me how much I'm getting paid."
Fury pinched the bridge of his nose. "Five hundred thousand."
I grinned. "Now we're talking."
Hill folded her arms. "You do realize this is a classified, high-risk mission, right?"
I smirked. "And you do realize I could solve it in about ten seconds, right?"
Fury leaned forward. "Then prove it."
I blinked. "Wait. What?"
"You keep running your mouth," Fury said, leveling me with a glare. "Fine. Do you wanna be paid a million per mission? Show me you're worth it. Bring me that core in under ten seconds."
The room fell silent.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
...Oh, this bastard was serious.
A slow grin spread across my face.
"You're on."
[Madripoor – HYDRA Hideout]
Before Fury and Hill could even process what was happening, I was gone.
A literal flash of light later, and I materialized inside a dimly lit warehouse, surrounded by gun-toting, very confused HYDRA agents.
They didn't even have time to react.
With a flick of my wrist, the entire room froze—not in time, not in space, but in light. My power rippled out, locking them in place as glowing afterimages of themselves, trapped in their last moment of awareness.
I casually strolled past them, humming the Avengers theme, and plucked the energy core from its containment case.
"Yoink."
Another flash—
And I was back in the briefing room, casually tossing the core onto the table.
Everyone stared.
Hill's jaw actually dropped.
Fury's eye twitched.
I smirked, leaning back. "Time?"
Hill checked her watch. "…Four seconds."
I stretched my arms. "Whew. Close one."
Fury didn't say anything for a long moment. Then, finally, he exhaled.
"I hate you."
I grinned. "Love you too, boss. Now, about that million—"
"Five hundred thousand."
"One mil—"
"Five hundred thousand."
I sighed dramatically. "Fury, you wound me."
Fury ignored me. Instead, he reached for his communicator. "We have the core. Stand down."
Hill was still staring at me. "You… you just—"
"Yes, yes, I'm amazing," I said, waving her off. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a much more important mission."
Fury groaned. "Do I even want to ask?"
I stood up, stretching. "No, but I'll tell you anyway."
I turned to the door, striking a heroic pose.
"I'm getting my damn KFC."
And just like that, I vanished in a flash of light.
Fury buried his face in his hands.
Hill exhaled slowly.
"Sir," she said, after a long pause. "We're never getting rid of him, are we?"
Fury just muttered something about needing a vacation.
I, however, was already inside the Level 7 breakroom, holding a bucket of stolen SHIELD KFC like a trophy.
Victory never tasted so good.
The Level 7 breakroom was supposed to be a sanctuary for SHIELD's elite personnel. A place where the most trusted agents could unwind, enjoy some high-quality refreshments, and, most importantly, partake in the classified reserves of Kentucky Fried Chicken, imported through highly classified SHIELD supply channels.
And yet, here I was.
Sitting at their sacred table. Legs kicked up. A massive bucket of government-funded, spy-exclusive, top-tier KFC resting proudly in my lap.
I took a slow, deliberate bite of crispy, golden-brown perfection.
Absolute silence.
A half-dozen Level 7 agents, all mid-lunch, had frozen in place—forks hovering, mouths half-open, eyes locked on me like I'd just detonated a nuke in their happy place.
One particularly bold agent, some guy with too many medals and a regulation crew cut, stood up. "You… you can't be in here."
I made direct eye contact as I took another bite.
He clenched his fists. "That chicken is restricted."
I chewed. Swallowed. Smirked. "Not anymore."
The entire room tensed. The air grew thick with tension. Somewhere in the distance, I swore I heard the faint echo of a Western showdown whistle.
Then—
The door burst open.
Maria Hill stormed in, her expression caught somewhere between murderous and exhausted beyond words.
"ILLUMINANT."
I held up a drumstick. "You want one?"
She pointed at me like she was ordering an airstrike. "I knew you were going to do this."
I shrugged. "Then you should've stopped me."
Hill inhaled very slowly, probably mentally preparing her resignation letter. "Give. It. Back."
I gasped. "Maria, please. You wouldn't take food from a starving contractor, would you?"
"You're not starving."
"I could be."
"You literally just got half a million dollars wired to your account an hour ago."
"Which I haven't spent yet. That means, technically, I could be financially struggling." I wiped an imaginary tear. "This chicken is all I have."
Hill stared at me like she was seriously debating the pros and cons of throwing me into space.
I patted the empty seat beside me. "Come on, Hill. Sit down. Enjoy some black-budget-funded fried chicken. It's not that deep."
Her nostrils flared. For a second, I swore she was about to snap. Then, without a word, she turned on her heel and marched out, muttering something about "needing stronger alcohol."
Victory.
I leaned back, grinning at the frozen agents still locked in stunned silence. I raised my bucket in a toast.
"Gentlemen. This is my breakroom now."
[Five Minutes Later – Fury's Office]
"You're a menace."
"I am so sorry."
Fury leaned on his desk, rubbing his temples like he could physically massage the headache away. "I should've never let you in."
"You say that," I said, stretching, "but you also keep paying me."
Fury scowled. "Because you get the job done."
"And fast," I added. "Don't forget fast."
His glare could melt steel. "What do you want, Illuminant?"
I smirked. "You mean besides an official SHIELD KFC membership?"
"I will throw you off this helicarrier."
"Okay, okay. Chill." I leaned forward. "I just wanna talk about bonuses."
Fury exhaled sharply. "No."
"But I—"
"No."
"—literally just—"
"No."
"—saved SHIELD's ass in four seconds."
"No."
I leaned back, crossing my arms. "You're the one who offered the deal, Fury."
"One million per mission," he said, voice dangerously low. "If you keep proving your worth."
I shrugged. "And? Did I not just prove my worth?"
He sighed. Deeply. "Fine."
I grinned. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Fury muttered something about "never knowing peace again" before opening a secure line. "Wire him the money."
A second later, my very fat bank account got even fatter. And that's it, GG boys, I'm a millionaire, call that a speedrun, in record time. But then the thought came across my minds as a warm smile appeared on my face.