"...Demons?"
Coulson blinked, caught completely off guard by the word. His eyes narrowed with disbelief. "Wait. Are you telling me that the recent cannibalistic murders across Manhattan were caused by demons?"
Lucian nodded without missing a beat. "Yep."
Seeing Coulson's blood pressure rising, Lucian raised a hand. "Don't worry—these aren't demons from religious texts or Hollywood exorcism films. I'm not talking about some horned devils screaming Latin."
Coulson exhaled, visibly calming, though his guard was still up.
"These creatures are called demons, sure," Lucian explained, "but they're more like an evolved predator species. Think of them as a separate kind of humanoid—externally identical to humans, but biologically different. They feed on humans. They're unnaturally strong, unnaturally fast, and practically immortal."
Coulson frowned. "You make them sound like vampires."
Lucian took a slow drag from his cigarette. "That's not a bad comparison. In fact, they were once human—turned into demons by the blood of a progenitor. Since then, they've retained human intelligence and appearance, but they've lost all restraint. Their hunger is… insatiable."
"Okay…" Coulson muttered. "If they're immortal, how do you kill one?"
"Two weaknesses," Lucian said, tapping two fingers on the counter. "Sunlight. And a weapon known as the Nichirin Blade."
"Nichirin Blade?" Coulson echoed. "That's... what, some kind of arcane weapon? Silver-plated? Blessed?"
Lucian smirked and reached beneath the counter.
With a slow flourish, he revealed a katana—sleek and deadly. Its steel shimmered faintly under the flickering ceiling light, as though it absorbed light itself. A faint flame-like pattern etched along the blade pulsed with heat.
"This," Lucian said, placing it gently on the counter. "Forged from a rare ore that has absorbed sunlight for over a century. Designed specifically to decapitate demons. That's the only way to kill them. Burn them in sunlight—or cut off their head with this."
He smiled thinly. "Three million. One-time offer."
Coulson's expression went blank.
It wasn't just the price—it was the fact that the entire interaction suddenly felt like a con.
First, Lucian tells him about these demons. Then, he just happens to have the one weapon in the world that can kill them? It felt like an infomercial. Next he'd be asking for shipping and handling.
"You're kidding," Coulson said flatly.
"Nope."
"This feels like a grift."
"It's not." Lucian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "Do you want it or not? I can throw in the leather sheath for free."
Coulson sighed. "I'll need to get authorization."
Lucian cracked a sunflower seed, clearly unconcerned. "Take your time. Sounds like you don't rank very high in S.H.I.E.L.D."
Coulson shot him a dry look. "We can't all be morally flexible freelancers."
Lucian winked. "It's not flexibility, Agent. It's efficiency."
Coulson stepped back and dialed.
The line picked up with a low grunt. "Fury here."
"It's about the weapon," Coulson said. "It's a specialized blade—claimed to be one of the only things that can kill these demons. Three million."
A beat of silence.
Then: "Put him on."
Coulson passed the phone through the window. "Director Fury would like a word."
Lucian took the phone with a raised eyebrow. "Well, if it isn't the Cyclops himself. What can I do for you, Director?"
"You got a license to sell weapons, Mr. Black?"
Lucian's expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened. "Are you threatening me?"
"Just stating facts." Fury's voice was low, deadly calm. "Selling illegal weapons in this country is a federal crime. I'm giving you a chance to be smart."
Lucian's tone shifted—still polite, but with ice beneath it. "So what's your offer?"
"Two hundred thousand."
Lucian laughed once, cold and sharp. "Two million."
Fury almost dropped the phone. "...What the hell did you just say?"
"You heard me."
Fury scowled. His usual strategy was to strong-arm gray market dealers into cutting prices. Most people backed down when S.H.I.E.L.D. flexed. But this guy? He didn't flinch.
He doubled the price.
"Kid," Fury said, "I can shut your operation down with a single call."
"And I can shut you down with mine," Lucian replied casually.
The silence on the line went deep.
Coulson nearly choked on air.
Did he just threaten to shut down S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Fury took a breath. "If you've lost your damn mind, I know some great neurologists. But if you haven't—I can make sure you do."
Lucian didn't rise to the bait. He just tapped the blade's hilt, then calmly said, "Three million."
Fury was about to fire back when Lucian added, "Don't bother playing the angry act, Director. I know you skim a cut from every World Security Council allocation. Three million's pocket change to you."
Fury stiffened. His voice didn't change. "You're implying something serious."
"Implying?" Lucian gave a humorless grin. "I'm stating facts. You think I'm just a guy with a sword? I deal in information, not just weapons. And if my business gets shut down, well… I might get emotional. Say some things to the press. Drop a few files."
Coulson stood frozen, unsure whether to admire the man or call for backup.
Lucian set the phone back down. "Have a good evening, Director."
He looked at Coulson. "And that, my friend, is how you negotiate with men who wear eye patches indoors."