Watson observed quietly as Uncle Polk, who was laughing heartily, cast a concerned glance at Aunt Liya.
"It's great to have loved ones in this world," watson thought to himself. "Now, more than ever, I must become stronger—to protect them. To be their guardian."
Aunt Liya, noticing Watson's silence, rushed to his side, her voice laced with worry. "Watson, are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"
Watson shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Really." He paused before adding, "But where were you and Uncle Polk earlier?"
Uncle Polk chuckled, his usual warm energy filling the room. "We were at the supermarket, picking up some supplies. Imagine our surprise when we saw you on the TVs there! You were amazing! A real hero, huh? Hahaha!"
Aunt Liya gave them a quick glance before heading toward the kitchen. "I bet you're starving. Give me a moment, and I'll whip up your favorite!"
As Aunt Liya busied herself, Uncle Polk motioned for Watson to sit down. "Come here, son. Let's talk."
Watson took a seat next to his uncle, feeling a hint of unease. "What's on your mind, Uncle Polk?"
Polk leaned forward, his tone growing serious. "Listen, kid. I've always known you're different—special, even. But remember this: no matter how great your powers are, never use them in a way that you'll regret. Follow your heart. It'll guide you better than any advice I can give."
Watson was taken aback. While he'd expected some words of wisdom, Polk's sincerity left him momentarily speechless.
"I will, Uncle Polk," Watson finally said, his voice resolute.
Hearing the conviction in his voice, Polk smiled, his jovial nature returning. "Good! Now, let's hit the shooting room and have some fun, huh?"
Twenty minutes later, Watson stared in disbelief at the targets 15 meters away. His own target was barely scratched, while Uncle Polk's was riddled with precise bullet holes.
Watson sighed, putting down the AR-15 in defeat. "Shooting's definitely not my thing," he muttered to himself. "Guess I'll stick to what I'm good at—close combat and flying dragons."
Meanwhile, back at S.H.I.E.L.D., Coulson strode briskly toward the interrogation room, his mind racing.
As he approached, he turned to Agent Carrie, who was monitoring the detainee. "Status update?"
Carrie glanced at her tablet. "The subject has been thoroughly searched. No devices, no weapons, nothing to track him. We've also administered a neutralizing agent. He'll wake up in about three minutes."
Coulson frowned, noticing the unease on Carrie's face. "Something wrong?"
She hesitated before answering. "Sir, he's... he's wearing a black diaper."
Coulson blinked. "A... diaper?"
Without another word, Carrie turned and walked off, leaving Coulson both confused and slightly unnerved. "Hydra's got a new brainwashing tactic, huh?" he muttered to himself before entering the interrogation room.
Inside, the detainee was waking up. Coulson wasted no time. "Your name."
"Edward Quinn," the man answered groggily.
"Your identity."
"Leader of the Kui Wolf Gang. My alias is Scott."
Coulson frowned. This felt too rehearsed. Could it be a memory implant? He pressed further. "Who do you work for?"
Scott's demeanor shifted instantly. His face twisted with fanatical energy, and his voice dripped with zeal. "Hydra! Long live Hydra! The world will return to freedom! We will evolve! The world will be liberated!"
Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration mounting. "Who do you work for? Where are the rest of your members? Be specific!"
Scott was about to respond when, suddenly, the room fell silent.
No one moved.
The air grew cold, and a black mist began to creep across the room. A sound, like glass shattering, echoed as space itself split open.
A voice, cold and commanding, filled the room. "I finally found it."
From the shadows emerged a figure draped in darkness—a skeletal being radiating an aura of pure death. It was Hela, the Goddess of Death herself.
She surveyed the room with a detached curiosity. "Something in here carries the essence of death. Such a pure, intoxicating scent. I don't recall leaving anything behind."
With a graceful motion, she extended a bony finger toward Scott. His pants tore open as the black diaper floated free, hovering before her.
Hela inspected it closely, her empty sockets narrowing in confusion. "This... this is... a rag?"
Coulson, frozen in disbelief, watched as Hela disappeared as quickly as she'd arrived, leaving only silence and the faint chill of death behind.
Coulson sighed deeply, his hairline feeling just a little higher. "I need a vacation."