Solomon watched anxiously as little Lorna and her companions walked off, armed with a handgun and $700 in cash. Before disappearing around the corner, Lorna turned back and stuck out her tongue at him, making a cheeky face. Most of Athena's attention was focused on Solomon, which meant she often neglected to keep a closer eye on the other children. Solomon figured Athena intended for him to set an example for Lorna, steering her away from trouble.
But Athena hadn't anticipated how helpless Solomon would be in the face of Lorna's tantrums and puppy-dog eyes. Though he knew spoiling her wasn't the best method, Solomon just couldn't bring himself to say no when she begged. He felt like a weary old father dealing with a teenage daughter coming home late—sighing endlessly but unable to change much. Still, there were other pressing matters he needed to deal with today. Checking the time on the watch Bayonetta had gifted him, he mentally calculated the time zone difference and then walked toward a car parked nearby.
"Hand it over," he said as he tapped on the car window, addressing the man inside, who was wearing a suit. "This is my bottom line. I assume Nick Fury explained this to you already. Honestly, I can't believe you people still come snooping around like this. Your boss must be an idiot."
The agent in the car tried to feign ignorance, but the mention of Fury made him visibly nervous.
"I don't know anything!" he stammered, realizing he'd stumbled into serious trouble. The young man outside the window seemed to know his superior personally.
"I'm just following orders to observe."
"Who are you reporting to?" Solomon waved a finger in front of the agent's face, and a misty veil clouded the man's eyes. Reluctantly, the agent confessed.
"Agent Victoria Hand," he said. "I'm only a Level 4 agent, but I report directly to her. Please, you've got to promise not to tell anyone about this…"
"Don't worry. I'll handle it with your supervisor," Solomon replied calmly. "You'll be fine. Now drive home and forget everything that happened here." With a quick tap of his wand to the agent's temple, Solomon extracted a memory strand, intending to alter it after verifying the intel. The spell, Thought Encoding, was one of the most effective zero-level spells for detecting lies. It had become a favorite of Solomon's when dealing with Nick Fury.
Unfortunately, the spell was entirely useless against someone like Natasha Romanoff. Even if Solomon could glean thoughts and impressions from her memories, they might still be fabricated. Romanoff's fractured psyche and mental conditioning made her nearly impossible to read accurately, as her perceptions often diverged from objective reality.
After watching the agent drive away, Solomon returned to the orphanage, holding a camera he had confiscated. Carefully inspecting the photos, he confirmed the agent wasn't a Hydra operative and posed no threat to the orphanage. Since the man wasn't a direct danger, Solomon didn't see the point in taking more drastic measures. Still, he needed to figure out exactly what Nick Fury knew so he could decide how to deal with the brazen spy master. Fury's job might be indispensable for now, but a particularly troublesome curse wouldn't impede his work too much.
When it came to cursing someone, Dormammu had been a surprisingly helpful teacher. The Dark Dimension was filled with supplicants whose minds had been consumed by power, and Dormammu didn't mind letting Solomon practice on them. After all, Solomon wasn't drawing on the Dark Dimension's power for his curses, so Dormammu had nothing to lose and even something to gain—some of the dark and intricate forces Solomon brought in gave Dormammu glimpses of the one-eyed aberration, a terrifying entity from another universe. That creature's presence was one reason Dormammu tolerated Solomon's antics. Until he fully understood Solomon's connection to that universe, Dormammu wasn't about to invite unnecessary trouble.
The doors to Nick Fury's office at the Triskelion flew open with a loud bang as Solomon kicked them in. Ignoring Maria Hill's protests, he stormed into the room. Sure, he could've used a portal to enter, but kicking the door down left a more lasting impression. The deep boot mark on the reinforced door served as a clear warning. Solomon placed the confiscated camera on Fury's desk, glaring at the director, who had just looked up from his files.
"Explain," Solomon demanded. "I want an answer."
"Routine surveillance," Fury said evenly. "A standard S.H.I.E.L.D. procedure for any dangerous individual. You're dangerous, and you know it." He gestured for Hill to close the door, ensuring no one else could overhear their conversation. "Besides, the agent in charge of this mission is Victoria Hand, someone you personally recruited to S.H.I.E.L.D. You demonstrated magic in front of her, so this doesn't violate our contract. You can trust her—her discretion is impeccable. None of the other agents involved in the operation know anything about magic, so your secrets are safe. Now, if that's all, I suggest you get to the point. I'm busy. Stark's mess is taking up all my time, and there's plenty more for S.H.I.E.L.D. to handle."
"Cancel the mission," Solomon said flatly. "I don't want anyone disrupting the lives of the kids at the orphanage."
"To be honest with you, Solomon, I'm doing this to protect those kids," Fury said, setting his files aside. He decided it was time to share part of the truth. Oddly enough, Solomon, who had no ties to any earthly power, was the one person Fury trusted the most.
He knew Solomon couldn't be bought. The mage's interactions with the mundane world were minimal, limited mostly to fulfilling his adoptive mother's wishes for him to attend school. Someone like that had no conceivable connection to the hidden forces Fury was investigating. Hoping to win Solomon's cooperation, Fury laid his cards on the table.
"There's more than one faction within S.H.I.E.L.D., and I'm worried those hidden players might use the kids to manipulate you. I know you care about them, and my surveillance is meant to keep them safe," Fury explained. "It's not just about you—I'm also concerned about the other enhanced individuals on the watchlist. I've increased security around them under the guise of routine monitoring. The agents I've assigned to this task are the ones I trust the most. I know this might feel invasive, but these are extraordinary circumstances. I hope you can understand, Solomon. As I've said before, you and I aren't so different."
"I'll handle the orphanage myself," Solomon replied, frowning. He didn't completely dismiss Fury's reasoning, but neither did he commit to agreeing with it. To be honest, Solomon had no interest in getting involved in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s feud with Hydra. Whether Hydra ruled the world or not had nothing to do with Kamar-Taj.
To Solomon, both the democracy S.H.I.E.L.D. represented and the authoritarianism Hydra sought were meaningless. Power, he had been taught, should be wielded without selfishness. Yet humanity's innate flaws made that ideal nearly impossible under any system. "Take care of your own problems," Solomon said, patting Fury's shoulder and casting a curse. "I can handle mine. Next time S.H.I.E.L.D. sends agents after me, I won't be so polite."
"I pour my heart out, and you don't even care?" Fury's eyes widened. He had expected his candidness to move Solomon, or at least inspire some respect for his efforts. Instead, Solomon remained as indifferent as ever.
This cold little punk!
"Nope," Solomon replied breezily. "You're getting paid to do your job. Stop trying to outsource it, you jerk!" He punctuated his words with a playful tongue click, his demeanor utterly unserious.
"I need help right now!"
"I'll save your life if it's absolutely necessary, as long as you don't mess up again. For example, there are no Skrulls on Earth anymore—well done with that. Those parasitic aliens shouldn't be on this planet. If anyone wants to play savior, let them do it off-world! That idiotic woman…"
Solomon couldn't resist taking a jab at Captain Marvel. The Skrulls, notorious across the galaxy, were embroiled in a war with the Kree—a fight where both sides were equally despicable. To Solomon, only someone brainwashed by Cold War-era leftist ideologies could've been naive enough to help the Skrulls. It was one of the most absurd jokes in the galaxy over the past century. No one in their right mind trusted the Skrulls.
"How do you even know that?" Fury's concern deepened. Solomon seemed to have access to information that should've been exclusive to him. For someone in his line of work, such a vulnerability was dangerous.
"Magic," Solomon replied dismissively. In truth, he had consulted Agamotto, whose omniscience was unfailing. "Now then," he continued with a grin, "enjoy your curse. Its duration depends entirely on my mood—maybe it'll last forever."
The mage cheerfully winked and gestured to a pair of bunny ears that had mysteriously appeared on Fury's desk. Solomon's progress in the art of curses had been substantial, and this time, Fury wouldn't escape easily. He'd have to wear the bunny ears—or else suffer severe penalties to both his physical and mental tasks.
Solomon's curse would make even simple jobs unbearably difficult. Walking might result in frequent stumbles—essentially forcing Fury to pass
constant saving throws just to function.
(All saving throws: -5.)
"I have to wear this thing?" Fury asked incredulously.
"Yup. That's the price."
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