"Then let's talk about that square," Black Widow said.
"Square?"
"The one you bombed. As far as I know, it's still under quarantine and lockdown."
"Well..."
Of course, Luke knew exactly what she was referring to. The aftermath of his last display of heavenly justice hadn't settled yet.
Plastic isolation barriers now surrounded the square, which had been blasted into a massive crater. Soldiers in white hazmat suits came and went daily. The news covered it constantly.
A regular explosion wouldn't have caused such a fuss, but Luke hadn't used just any grenade. He'd deployed a second-generation grenade laced with magic stone powder.
After the blast, the military detected residual magical energy at the site. The traces were rare and barely usable for study, but the military being the military, they weren't about to let it go. At worst, it'd be a colossal waste of their time.
"And France," Black Widow continued. "After the highway incident, you and Stark just walked away, leaving the French government to clean up the mess. The French president has lodged several formal protests with SHIELD over the past few days."
Luke raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. He hadn't realized his glorious deeds had stacked up so high.
But he stood his ground. "I don't kill good people. At most, I take out some gangsters. I never hurt innocents. I think you should be after the Hulk, not me."
Black Widow smirked and pointed out, "And how do you explain tearing apart that plane in France?"
Luke didn't flinch. "I already told the French media—I acted in self-defense. The pilot's not dead, is he?"
"He's not dead," she admitted.
"See?" Luke spread his hands, as if that settled everything.
"But you did drop him a little low. His parachute deployed late. Poor guy broke his leg."
"..."
Luke wasn't about to take the blame for that. "I warned him. I've got the dashcam footage to prove it!"
"Dashcam?" Every time Black Widow heard Luke mention that word, she felt a bit thrown off. They were both speaking English—so why did it sound so odd coming from him?
That day, Luke's mech dashcam had captured the entire battle. He'd had Ross edit out any sensitive details before sending the rest to a French TV station.
Naturally, the French media went wild over it, airing those first-person shots nonstop. They even licensed them to major outlets like BBC, CNN, and CCTV.
Luke's words during the fight—"Learn from me. Give people a heads-up first. That's called humanitarianism."—had gone viral. It was now a global catchphrase.
"You have to admit," Black Widow pressed, "your actions are a direct challenge to the world order. Beyond exposing the existence of supernatural powers, which SHIELD has always tried to keep under wraps—"
"Exposing?" Luke cut her off. "What about Tony?"
"He's been warned," she replied.
Luke shrugged. Extraordinary powers were par for the course in the Marvel universe. The average person might not encounter them—yet—but it was only a matter of time.
He wasn't about to tell her that within a year or two, the whole world would be painfully aware of alien threats. Humanity wasn't alone in the universe.
By then, people wouldn't just accept superpowered beings—they'd demand more protectors on Earth.
Why else do you think the Avengers lasted as long as they did? The world needed its freaks.
But Luke wasn't interested in arguing philosophy. He was already thinking about how to handle Black Widow.
Luke stepped out for a bit.
When he returned, he was carrying several large sheets of tempered glass.
There was nothing secretive about it. Under Black Widow's surprised gaze, he pulled the massive glass panels—several meters long and wide—straight from his storage space.
"What are you doing?" she asked, still tied to the chair, curious.
She had tried to escape earlier. It hadn't worked.
Luke didn't bother answering. He directed a few mechanical arms to quickly construct a glass cell in the middle of the warehouse.
Once the tempered glass room was finished, he moved Black Widow inside.
He searched her thoroughly, uncovering an arsenal of gadgets that made even him raise an eyebrow.
Forget the basic stuff like pepper spray and stun guns.
Lipstick guns. Earring drills. Tear gas pellets. Miniature grenades—each deadlier than the last.
Grappling hooks, ropes, folding knives, lock picks... She had weapons hidden everywhere, even in her underwear.
And then there were bondage belts and ball gags...
Wait, what were those for?
Black Widow watched him with an amused smile. "Planning to imprison me?"
"Just restricting your freedom for a few days," Luke replied coolly.
After confirming she was clean, Luke untied her but immediately took a few steps back.
He wasn't stupid. He knew how dangerous Black Widow was. The only reason he'd managed to capture her in the first place was because of his surprise attack—and his magical skill.
Yes, he considered his brick attack a magical skill. One well-aimed brick had knocked out Black Widow—someone enhanced by the Red Room with resistance to attacks—without a sound. If that wasn't magic, what was?
It worked like a charm.
"I need to use the bathroom," Black Widow said with a smile, rubbing her wrists.
Luke tossed something to her.
She caught it, then stared at it, dumbfounded. "What's this?"
"A stainless steel basin."
"..."
"Handle it yourself." Luke walked out of the glass cell and locked the door behind him.
Black Widow clenched her teeth in frustration, muttering, "Damn little bastard!"
During the search, Luke had been professional, but there was no avoiding some accidental touching. He'd kept his face neutral the whole time, but she could tell his heart was racing. She hadn't thought much of it.
But this—making her relieve herself in a basin—was unforgivable.
---
For several days, SHIELD completely lost contact with Black Widow.
She was supposed to check in with headquarters every other day. Missing two contact windows meant one thing: she'd been captured. Or worse.
Pepper was confused too. Her new secretary had skipped out on work so soon?
Director Fury, overseeing SHIELD from HQ, knew something was wrong. Black Widow's disappearance was definitely tied to her latest mission.
According to intel, Tony Stark had been locked in his lab, barely speaking to anyone—not even Pepper. So if Stark wasn't the problem, there had to be someone else.
Fury thought for a moment, his face darkening. Then he picked up the phone.
Clint Barton—Hawkeye—was at home, enjoying some much-needed family time with his wife and kids when the call came in.
Fury wanted him back at HQ. Immediately.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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