NSFW Creative Writing[NSFW] Trial Run (WC/MCU SI) Thread starterCyrusFallen Start dateDec 26, 2025 Tagsdxd marvel mcu self insert waifu catalog waifu catalogueCreatedDec 26, 2025StatusIncompleteWatchers3,134Recent readers2,540Threadmarks31A new Company hire is voluntold that he will be testing out a new devil peerage-based binding method. In the body of Millicas Gremory and set loose during the Battle of New York, he goes about completing missions and trying to create a peerage that can survive the rigors of life as a Contractor.Threadmarks Index ExtrasStatistics (29 threadmarks, 141k words)ThreadmarksReader mode RSS Chapter 1 – The City That Never SleepsWords 3.4kDec 26, 2025Chapter 2 – Interview with a DevilWords 5.3kDec 26, 2025NewChapter 21 – DaybreakWords 5.5kFeb 10, 2026NewChapter 22 – Halcyon DaysWords 5.8kFriday at 2:14 PMNewChapter 23 – AetherbornWords 5.3k49 minutes agoJump to newIgnoreWatchThread ToolsThreadmarksIndexExtrasView contentThreadmarks Chapter 1 – The City That Never Sleeps View contentCyrusFallenNot too sore, are you?Dec 26, 2025Add bookmark#1Chapter 1 – The City That Never Sleeps
I always wanted to visit New York City, to go to the city that never sleeps and take in the sights, the sounds, the people and the landmarks. It was such a legendary location from movies and games, and despite knowing it was just a normal city I still wanted to go there someday. I technically got my wish, though being in another universe's version of New York wasn't part of the plan. And the alien invasion certainly doesn't help.
The skyline that should have been iconic is choked with smoke and burning metal, and the rhythmic pulse of distant explosions replaces the noise of traffic I used to imagine. I absentmindedly shoot another Power of Destruction bullet at a passing Chitauri, the tiny sphere containing the concept of the end of all things punching through alien alloy effortlessly to kill the pilot before disappearing as I stop supplying demonic power to it. The creature's skimmer spirals end over end, slamming into a building with a glassy howl before vanishing in a bloom of fire.
Probably a little overkill, considering that regular soldiers could take them down with normal bullets, but even before Soul Talent made my demonic power all but jump to obey me Millicas was already both a prodigy among prodigies and the son of the strongest pureblood devil ever born. I can recover that level of power faster than I'm spending it. The energy rolls through me in warm, instinctive waves, eager to be shaped, eager to be used.
Of course, with the hole in the sky spitting out more of them by the second, I'll have to take it up a notch soon if I want to hold back the tide. The portal crackles like a wounded god, flooding the air with a metallic ozone scent every time another squadron pours out of it, and the constant shriek of their engines is beginning to grate.
I could just fly up to Stark Tower and take the Tesseract – I might be able to brute force my way through the force field, but even if I can't it shouldn't be too hard to just take the scepter from Loki and use that – but I came here specifically because this moment is the perfect opportunity to meet my target.
I can feel my set of Evil Pieces pulsing in the back of my mind, eager to be used. The sensation is faint but persistent, like a steady heartbeat made of magic instead of flesh, each throb reminding me that the power is there, waiting for me to give it purpose.
When I took the offer to join the Company, I learned there were a few restrictions to my contract. Long story short, I was voluntold that I'd be testing a new type of binding the boys in R&D had cooked up based on the Evil Pieces of Highschool DXD. The briefing had been equal parts excitement and thinly veiled threats, the kind that came wrapped in polite smiles and piles of paperwork.
I had to become a DXD Devil of at least T6, and I would be given a set to go out and test. I can't complain too much. DXD Devils can become very powerful and their imagination-based magic can be extremely versatile. So while it wouldn't have been my first pick it is still a good pick, and being an eternally young superhuman magical being is pretty damn cool. The raw potential alone makes the inconvenience worth it; magic that bends to creativity is the kind of thing people would kill for.
Of course, while my binding does have its perks – on top of the usual perks of becoming a Devil, I can just push a piece into the chest of whoever I want and I can even get the recently deceased – it does come with one key limitation. I only get the one set, with no way to get more pieces. So my retinue will always be limited, and I have to be very picky with who I recruit. The thought lingers in the back of my mind like a quiet weight, reminding me that every piece spent is a permanent choice.
Thus why I'm here. There are a few waifus I can recruit here, and during the Chitauri invasion of the first Avengers movie I am early enough that my offer will be appealing to them and they are weak enough that I can actually reincarnate them. The timing is perfect: chaos everywhere, mortality rates spiking, and people in the exact emotional state where a supernatural job offer starts sounding very sensible.
And as I spot a jet flying towards the city in the distance, I know my first target has arrived. The shape cuts through the smoke like a silver knife, its engines whining over the noise of battle, and I can practically feel the narrative lining up for me.
Now lets see if I can talk my way into Black Widow's catsuit.
The first Avenger I run into is Iron Man, flying around a building and almost into me as I continue blasting the Chitauri. The streak of red and gold whips past close enough that I feel the air pressure tug at my wings. Two of them are chasing him, their ugly skimmers buzzing like angry insects as they fire wildly in his direction, and as soon as he is past me I shape my Power of Destruction into a barrier. It blossoms out from my palm like a sheet of red-black glass, and the moment they touch it they don't so much crash against it as get erased by it, their forms dissolving into nothing as their own momentum carries them to their doom.
"Ok, Batboy. Didn't expect that." I hear his voice, with a slight mechanical edge, coming from the red and gold suit flying next to me. His visor turns toward me in a quick double-take. "What is your deal?"
"I'm on your side." I say. "I've been holding the line, but they keep coming."
Another Chitauri comes my way, lunging off its glider with a screech, and I decide to punch him. My fist connects, and the alien bursts like an overripe fruit from the force of my strike, spraying hot… something across the air. Huh, I knew I was superhuman but I didn't know I was that strong. I guess it makes sense. While Millicas is primarily a caster, he is still a Devil, and they grow physically stronger the more demonic power they have.
Also, alien guts. Gross. Better stick with magic for now.
"Right." Tony's tone is as dry as the desert, the kind of flat sarcasm that somehow carries even through metal filters.
Then I see a Leviathan coming through the portal. The massive armored serpent-whale thing pushes through the glowing tear in the sky, casting a shadow over half the avenue as it roars down toward the buildings.
"I got it." I say, flying towards the creature. "Handle the small fry!"
"Of course you do." I hear Tony mutter with my enhanced hearing, the exasperation threading cleanly through the static. "We've got a friendly in the air. Redhead, bat wings, dressed like some fantasy nobleman. No, I'm not kidding. I—"
I can't hear the rest as I rocket upward, wings cutting through the air as I surge toward the Leviathan. Power of Destruction forms into a basketball-sized sphere in my hand, the surface shifting like molten ink. Once I'm close enough I let it fly, the sphere growing as it speeds forward, expanding to the size of a small car before colliding with the Leviathan and eating through its body in a widening tunnel of annihilation.
Then I get shot in the back, the energy projectile being enough to outright kill a human but not enough to even injure me, being more uncomfortable than anything else. It's like being hit square between the shoulder blades with a blistering-hot baseball—more jolt than pain—but it does burn a hole in my suit, though. I smell scorched cloth and a faint whiff of ozone as the fabric chars and peels, a tiny tongue of heat licking my spine.
"You dick!" I shout, spinning with a snap of my wings, blasting the Chitauri to nothingness in retaliation. The bolt of destruction turns the attacker into a smear of dissolving particles that the wind of the battle carries away. "I don't have any spares!"
For a heartbeat I hover there, irritated more at the damage to the outfit than the attempted murder. A quick repairing spell later—purple runes stitching themselves across the fabric, reforming scorched fibers with a faint warmth—I go back into the fray. The suit settles against my skin again like nothing happened.
I know SHIELD is watching, and I'm hoping I can impress my power upon them. It will make them hesitant to try to control me, which will help with future endeavors.
With my suit whole again and the battlefield roaring beneath me, I dive back into the fight.
I let the battle go on for about an hour. Long enough for the chaos to settle into a rhythm, long enough for the shriek of Chitauri engines and the thunder of collapsing buildings to become a constant background roar. Smoke clings to the sky like a storm cloud that refuses to move, and beneath it Manhattan burns in patches—flashes of orange in every direction.
I spot most of the Avengers as I continue flying around Manhattan, destroying Chitauri and occasionally rescuing a few civilians. I weave between skyscrapers, firing off blades and spheres of destruction that carve the invaders apart mid-flight. Hawkeye falling from a building before firing off a grappling hook arrow to pull himself to safety, his body swinging in a clean arc before landing on a ledge and immediately firing again. Captain America taking down ground troops with his shield while defending a bunch of teenagers, his movements sharp and controlled even as alien fire splashes against concrete around him. Iron Man in another dogfight in between buildings, repulsors screaming as he loops low enough that shattered glass whips in his wake. Thor – feeling as powerful as I am to my mystical senses, though between his millennia of experience and my Power of Destruction, I don't know who would win – taking down a Leviathan with a strike of lightning that rattles every window for blocks. Even the Hulk jumping between buildings and smacking Chitauri mid-air, his bellows echoing like thunder.
But it is only when the Avengers go for their famous group shot that I see her. Natasha Romanoff looks beautiful and deadly, even amidst the chaos. Her red hair, a darker shade than mine, is messy. Her green eyes are alert despite her exhaustion. Her figure is the perfect mix of aesthetics and practicality to my enhanced sight. Sweat glints faintly along her jawline, dust streaks the black of her suit, and still she stands poised, centered in all the noise as if the battlefield bends around her.
She is the first to notice me as I decide to fly down to join them. I considered joining the Avengers but ultimately dismissed it. I have work to do, which will likely eventually put me at odds with them, and I don't need the drama. Besides, I don't know how the Ancient One will react to me being here – my defenses should prevent her mystical senses from picking me up and I picked up Trace Defense specifically to slip under the Time Stone's detection, since I don't know how often, if at all, she looks into the future.
I'd rather fly solo, or with just my peerage at worst, until I'm sure I'm not about to get jumped by sorcerers and trapped in the mirror dimension. I should be able to just teleport out, but I'd rather not risk it until I have someone to pull me out, just in case. Paranoia isn't stylish, but it's practical.
"You must be the one helping us." Captain America steps forward first. His shield is half-scorched, and a thin cut bleeds along his forehead, but he still stands like the situation is entirely under control.
I nod.
"I am." I say.
"What are you, Batboy?" Tony asks. "Alien? Super Soldier experiment? I'm getting some very strange readings from you." His faceplate retracts for just a moment, letting me catch the narrowing of his eyes before it seals again with a hiss.
I already decided to use Millicas's backstory as my own, so the answer comes easily.
"I'm a Devil." I say.
"What, like the bibble? Like Lucifer?" Hawkeye asks.
"That would be my father." I say. "Millicas Gremory, at your service." I give him a little bow, wings flexing behind me for dramatic flair. It feels appropriate.
"Son of Satan, sure." Tony says. "Either way, do you have a way to stop this? We can't keep going forever." He gestures to the smoking sky, to the continuous stream of Chitauri spilling through the spiral of blue light above us.
"I do." I say, having planned for this. "I can shut down the portal, but I need some space."
Steve nods.
"We'll keep them off you." He says.
"Good." I say, then glance at Natasha like I just noticed something about her.
I pull out a summoning flier, my magical circle engraved into the paper with my magic, and hand it to her. The sigils glow faintly, pulsing with enough power that even Clint leans in to squint.
"What is this?" She asks amusedly, despite the chaos.
"Press your palm against it and I will come." I say. "I have an offer to make you."
"An offer?" She asks.
I gesture towards her stomach. Towards where her womb would have been if the Red Room hadn't taken it.
"I can give you back that which was taken from you."
That wipes any amusement off her face, and she gives me a serious look. A very serious look. For a moment, even the noise of battle feels distant.
I turn around and take off, heading towards the tower. After that, there is no way she won't at least hear me out.
But first, stopping this invasion.
I quickly reach the top of Stark Tower. Wind whips past me as I rise above the smoke-filled skyline, the hum of Chitauri engines fading beneath the rush of my own movement. Tony's penthouse floor is a mess of broken glass and shattered ceramic. Hulk wasn't careful in his little "Puny god" moment. Shards crunch under my boots as I land, the floor glittering like someone dumped a truckload of diamonds across polished metal.
I spot Loki lying by the edge, clearly in a lot of pain. And I notice that this Loki isn't the same as the movies. She's curled on her side, breath shallow, fingers twitching weakly against the floor. The woman has long black hair, eyes that are a stunning shade of green, and her armor accentuates her generous figure nicely. She looks regal even in defeat, a fallen queen rather than a beaten invader.
Should I recruit her? I would prefer Natasha as my queen, but Loki could fill the role, and even if I do end up reincarnating Natasha, Loki would make for a good bishop with her magical skills.
On the other hand, Loki is infamously a manipulator, and I don't know if the binding's loyalty would prevent her from manipulating me "for my own good". And I'm not so arrogant as to think I can outsmart the God(ess) of Lies. Not without centuries of experience and a few miracles on the side. She doesn't just lie—she breathes misdirection.
If she's anything like canon Loki she will want power and recognition, both of which I can provide. But she also will love making plans, and I'm not sure I want someone who will try to manipulate someone more powerful than me, fail, and then try to manipulate me into bailing her out. A constant headache wrapped in a beautiful package.
I should at least keep her around and make her the offer. Worst case scenario I can always just hand her over to Thor later to buy myself some goodwill. As insurance strategies go, it's clean enough.
I focus my magic into the cameras, changing them to show what I want them to have seen, a spell the devils developed to prevent cameras being everywhere to break the masquerade. The air ripples faintly as the illusion settles, a subtle twist of demonic pressure brushing against my senses. As far as the cameras, and hopefully Jarvis, will have seen Loki managed to get up and vanish in a flash of green magic.
Then I cast a simple teleportation spell, sending the agonizing Loki to the middle of a forest in Canada. In her state she isn't going anywhere, and I won't be long here. The magic snaps like a cold wind, and she disappears in a shimmer of distortion.
I make sure to grab the scepter with a telekinesis spell and store it in the personal storage spell all devils use. It feels heavy with presence even at a distance, the Mind Stone pulsing like a heartbeat against reality.
Then I fly to where the Tesseract is still keeping the portal open. Doctor Erik Selvig is still unconscious next to it, so I don't need to worry about witnesses. The air here vibrates with raw cosmic power, a low thrum that buzzes under my skin.
I create a ball of Power of Destruction, slowly feeding it demonic power as I push against the force field. The energy sphere crackles in my hand, swallowing the light around it like a miniature black sun. I am initially shocked as the power that has erased everything so far not only meets resistance but outright fails to penetrate. The backlash forces ripples across my palm, like pushing against the surface tension of a planet.
But I guess if the infinity stones were easy to overcome there wouldn't be so many people wanting them.
When I met the Avengers I had about sixty percent of my total reserves, having kept that much in reserve just in case I suddenly needed to go all out, but even dumping almost twenty percent of my energy into the ball, the limit to what I can currently control, I still don't make any progress. Sweat beads at my temple as the barrier hums defiantly, a reminder that the universe plays by a different set of rules around an Infinity Stone.
Finally, I just pull out the scepter and break through the barrier that way. I only have so much time and I don't want to run low on energy until I buy the pocket apartment. While my defenses prevent the various powerful figures watching – looking at you, Uatu – from seeing me I could still be attacked by more conventional forces. And I'm strong, but I'm not untouchable. Not yet.
The release of energy as the beam cuts out almost knocks me over. The Tesseract's glow dims, the portal collapsing inward with a low roar as the sky above flickers back to a more natural shade.
And I decide to not hang around for the inevitable interrogation that will come. So I grab the Tesseract, store both it and the scepter, and teleport away. The world snaps around me—and the battlefield is gone.
Now to wait for Natasha.
Starting World: Marvel [MCU Earth-199999 (Post-2010)]
Starting budget 270
Intensity [4]
Manual Connection 1
100%/0% -5
Only One 1
Standard Demiplane 0
Expiry 2
Is There Anybody Out There? -1
Close Enough 0
Power Swap Banned 1
Twilight Zone 1
Interest Enforced 1
Limited Exploration 1
Standard Bindings 0
One Each 1
You as Millicas Gremory (Possess) of T6 -50 [220]
Bindings
Empty Hand free [220]
Talents
Soul -10 [210]
Defenses
Information x2 -50 [160]
Trace x2 -100 [60]
Misc Perks
Universal Calibration -10 [50]
Generic Waifu Perks
Checkmate[You as Millicas Gremory] -50 [0] Like ReplyReport Reactions:Kssj, Daimon Agafo, Burtill and 673 othersCyrusFallenDec 26, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 2 – Interview with a Devil View contentCyrusFallenNot too sore, are you?Dec 26, 2025Add bookmark#3Chapter 2 – Interview with a Devil
It barely took a few hours before I felt it—the familiar, insistent tug of the summoning flyer calling me back. Not that it came as a surprise. I had walked away from Stark Tower with both the Tesseract and the Scepter. Fury and his people were many things, but slow to react wasn't one of them.
I had already put some distance between myself and New York by then.
After leaving Stark Tower, I'd teleported to the clearing in the Canadian wilderness where I had sent Loki. The place wasn't anything special. Isolated, cold, surrounded by trees that did little to block the wind. A good place to lie low. A bad place to bleed out.
And she was bleeding when I found her.
I hadn't been particularly worried. Not really. Loki was a god—a goddess, now—and Asgardians were absurdly resilient. Still, I didn't want to take chances. Not only because it would have been a waste—Loki was one of my favorite characters even before the gender flip, and I'd be lying if I said the sorceress angle didn't make her even more appealing—but because of the bigger picture.
Heimdall couldn't see me.
But he could absolutely see her.
Letting Loki die alone in a forest would raise questions I wasn't ready to answer.
So I did some basic first aid. Nothing fancy, nothing invasive. Just enough to stabilize her and speed along what her body was already doing on its own. It was almost redundant—her wounds were already knitting back together by the time I finished—but it gave me something to do, something familiar, while I let my own reserves recover.
Once she was no longer in any danger, I took the opportunity to rest. To breathe. To let my demonic power recharge and settle after the exertion of the day. Stark Tower, the Avengers, two Infinity Stones, an Asgardian god—it had been a busy introduction to the MCU.
I sat there in the clearing, the cold air sharp in my lungs, and thought.
My reasons for coming to this universe were twofold.
First, I had accepted a mission: collect all the Infinity Stones and deliver them to the Company. With a limited retinue at my disposal, I couldn't rely on brute-force captures to rack up credits. I needed to take missions. And that was where my meta knowledge and the power of a high-class devil came in.
This world was practically laid out for me like a roadmap.
With the right timing and a little subtlety, most of the Stones were attainable without triggering apocalyptic consequences. I'd already proven that much to myself. Two Stones, acquired on my very first day. Not bad by any metric.
Second—and arguably more important in the long run—if I was going to build a peerage, I would need a Queen.
I didn't strictly need to recruit her before everyone else. There was no hard rule demanding it. But from experience—and common sense—it was far better to establish your second-in-command early. Expecting future recruits to unquestioningly take orders from someone who joined later was a recipe for friction. At best, resentment. At worst, outright rebellion.
A Queen wasn't just a lieutenant. She was an anchor. A stabilizing force. Someone whose authority was unquestioned because it had always been there.
In the heat of the moment I had considered Loki as a backup option, but in hindsight that was a bad idea. At the time it had seemed almost obvious. Powerful. Beautiful. Clever enough to survive gods and monsters alike. But once the adrenaline faded and I actually thought it through, the cracks were impossible to ignore.
Not only is she not the most capable when it came to maintaining group harmony – she could play people like a master, but I didn't want mind games and politicking among my peerage – but recruiting her would likely mean picking a fight with Odin. And that was a level of attention I had no interest in drawing to myself this early. Even her magic, impressive as it was, didn't truly justify the risk. With my devil magic and enough time and training, there was nothing she could do that I couldn't eventually replicate or surpass.
The truth was simpler, and a little more embarrassing. I saw a hot woman, and immediately thought that I wanted her. That impulse had come fast and unfiltered, bypassing reason entirely. I could only assume that was my new nature as a creature of desire at play – I enjoyed beautiful women as much as the next guy but I was no Issei – and it was something I would need to keep an eye on. Power changed instincts, and instincts could derail plans if left unchecked.
Natasha was still my main pick, because power was something that would come with time and she had all the soft skills I would need to balance out my bad habits and keep my peerage running smoothly. She understood people. Read rooms. Managed egos. She knew when to push, when to pull back, and when to quietly redirect a situation before it became a problem. Those were things I didn't naturally excel at, and a Queen who could compensate for that wasn't just useful – she was essential.
I wasn't too worried about her refusing. Worst case scenario she was just T4, so I could easily afford a clone of her soon enough, even if I would prefer to not waste credits on waifus when I already have so many more important things to purchase. It was an option, not a plan, but knowing it existed took the edge off any uncertainty.
Still, I would need to be careful.
I would also need to keep in mind that I couldn't get every waifu I liked from every world I visited. With a limited number of evil pieces and no way to get more I would need to be very picky about who I recruited. Every choice was permanent. Every slot mattered.
Especially because, with an eternal lifespan and the entire catalog available to me, I could get the best of the best. There was no reason to rush. And no excuse to be careless.
Other than Natasha, the one other person I wanted from this world was Wanda.
Even setting aside the comics version of her, who was an outright reality warper, the MCU Wanda still grew into something terrifyingly powerful. Her abilities scaled hard with time, emotion, and experience, and by the later stages of her story she was operating on a level very few could challenge directly. Raw power like that was rare, and more importantly, it was the kind that kept growing.
Her mental instability was an issue, but that was mostly caused by the various tragedies that happened throughout her life. Loss layered on loss. Experiments, war, manipulation, grief. Strip those away—or at least blunt their impact—and a lot of the instability went with them. With an immortal group of close confidants, people who wouldn't age out of her life or be taken from her one by one, I was fairly sure it would be manageable. Stability wasn't about suppressing emotion, it was about not being alone with it.
Besides, that was another thing that Natasha would be very useful for.
I wasn't sure what I was going to do with her brother. I didn't mind having guys in my peerage – I wasn't into dudes and I did want a harem, but I also kinda wanted guy friends to hang out with – but I didn't know enough about him to know if we would get along. Pietro was loyal, impulsive, and intensely protective of Wanda. Traits that could be assets, or liabilities, depending on how they were handled.
Though I might not have much of a choice, as I doubted Wanda would just join and leave her brother behind. That kind of bond didn't break cleanly, and trying to force it would only create problems down the line. If Wanda came with conditions, I would have to decide whether they were worth accepting.
I felt the flyer call me again, the pull sharper this time, more insistent.
After casting a quick spell to keep Loki unconscious—nothing elaborate, just enough to make sure she stayed down—I let the teleportation circle take me away, the clearing vanishing beneath my feet as the magic closed in.
I wasn't surprised to appear in an interrogation room – metallic walls, a mirror that I was sure was two-way, and a simple steel table with two metal chairs – and if I had to guess I was now in the infamous SHIELD helicarrier. The air had that sterile, recycled feel common to military installations, faintly tinged with ozone and machinery. The hum of the carrier was subtle but constant, a reminder that we weren't on solid ground. Overhead lights cast everything in an even, unforgiving brightness, leaving nowhere for shadows to hide.
If Natasha was surprised at my appearing in a flash of light, she didn't show.
Even hours after the battle, she looked impeccable. Hair perfectly in place, posture relaxed but alert, not a wrinkle on her suit or a hint of exhaustion on her face. If there was fatigue there, it was buried deep, behind layers of discipline and habit.
"I'm glad you summoned me." I said, smiling at her. "We have much to discuss." The words echoed slightly in the sparse room, casual on the surface, deliberate underneath.
"We do." She agreed, gesturing for me to sit and only taking her chair when I did.
A small thing, but telling. Control, even in the smallest details.
"Like how you helped Loki escape." The accusation was delivered calmly, conversationally, as if she were commenting on the weather. I smiled awkwardly.
Not so much at being found out – I had already decided to hand Loki over as soon as she woke up – but at being found out so easily. I had expected more misdirection, more deniability, before we reached this point.
"Jarvis saw through my spell?" I asked.
If that was the case, it would be something to keep firmly in mind going forward.
"No, but having her vanish and leave her Scepter behind for you to take was suspicious." She said. "I didn't know for sure, so thank you for confirming it."
There it was. A trap laid cleanly, patiently, and sprung the moment I spoke.
I laughed.
"I knew you were smart, but damn!"
She kept smiling at me, just a touch smug, and while I knew it was a role she was playing I was still impressed. The expression never reached her eyes, but it didn't need to. The message was clear enough.
"You can have her back." I said. "I was also going to make her an offer, but I changed my mind."
I leaned back slightly, hands open, posture deliberately non-threatening.
"The same offer you said you'd make me?" She asked.
Her tone didn't change, but her attention sharpened. I nodded.
I wondered if Fury was somehow feeding her what questions to ask – not through an earpiece, devil hearing was more than good enough for me to hear it – or if this was all her.
Probably the latter.
"I want to recruit you for my peerage."
The words settled into the space between us, heavy with implication.
"I already have a job." She pointed out.
Her gaze never left mine, weighing, measuring, already trying to figure out what I really wanted – and what it would cost her to hear me out.
"I can offer you things no one else in this world can." I said. I kept my tone level, almost conversational, resisting the urge to oversell it. Someone like Natasha had spent her entire life being promised things that never came without a price. Anything that sounded too grand would only put her on edge.
"And in exchange you get my soul? Is that what your peerage is?" Her voice was calm, neutral, but her eyes sharpened just a fraction. She was testing me, probing for the lie she was sure had to be there somewhere.
I shook my head.
"Devils haven't dealt in souls for thousands of years now." I said.
The words were true enough, and I let them stand on their own. Then I made a small gesture with my hand, a simple bit of misdirection, more habit than necessity—but the showmanship felt appropriate in a room like this.
When my hand came back into view, I was holding my Queen Piece.
"Devil birthrate is normally very low." I spoke. "To remedy this, the Underworld's greatest scientist created what are called the Evil Pieces."
The piece caught the light, faintly warm, heavy with power. I pushed it forward across the table, expecting her to grab it, or at least react.
She didn't. She only continued to look at me like we were having a casual conversation over coffee, her expression unreadable.
"These artifacts can convert the people of most species into devils." I said. "Pureblood devils get them, and they can recruit others into their peerage."
"Slaves." She said, her tone lacking emotion.
The word hung between us, blunt and ugly.
"Servants." I countered. "Friends, family even."
I didn't push the piece any farther. Instead, I took it back, letting it disappear into my set with a flicker of magic, the table between us suddenly empty again.
"Each devil treats their peerage differently." I said. "Me? I want people I can trust. And that means only willing recruits."
I watched her carefully as I spoke, not for tells—she was too good for that—but for the way she processed the information. She didn't interrupt, didn't scoff, didn't accuse me of lying.
"And why would I want to become a devil?" She asked.
There it was. The real question.
"Immortality, for one." I said. "Some of the original devils, created over ten thousand years ago, are still alive to this day. I don't think there has ever been a devil who has died from old age."
I didn't elaborate beyond that. I didn't mention caveats or technicalities or the finer distinctions between agelessness and true eternity. Those details didn't matter yet, and dumping them on her now would only muddy the point.
She only raised an eyebrow.
Not disbelief. Not dismissal.
Interest.
"Power." I continued.
I let the word sit there for a moment, heavy and deliberate, before elaborating.
"Even a recently reincarnated devil would be stronger and faster than your Captain America."
I grinned, unable to help myself this time. The comparison was too convenient.
"The physically strongest of us make the Hulk look weak in comparison." I said. "With enough training, you could lift a mountain, stand in the epicenter of a nuclear blast without a scratch, and move fast enough to easily shatter the sound barrier."
I kept my tone casual, almost offhand, as if I were listing technical specs instead of redefining the limits of what a person could be.
"Physically?" She asked.
Just one word, but it told me exactly where her thoughts were going.
"Most devils, myself included, prefer to use our demonic power for magic." I said. "The strongest normal devils are said to be able to destroy entire countries singlehandedly."
I leaned back slightly, my gaze drifting for a moment as if picturing it.
"I wouldn't be surprised if Sirzechs Lucifer – my father – could blast a hole into the core of the planet if he tried hard enough. Not that he would."
That did it.
I saw her eyes widen just a fraction at that, disbelief and just a touch of fear slipping through the cracks of her composure before she smoothed it over. The name alone carried weight, even if she didn't yet fully grasp what it meant.
I gestured towards her, bringing the focus back.
"But I think you are more interested in something else." I said. "The healing effect of the evil pieces."
Her attention snapped fully back to me.
"They can heal?" She asked, and this time the interest in her voice wasn't faked. It was sharp, immediate, and personal.
"The evil pieces can heal any physical injury and mundane disease." I said. "They even work on the recently deceased, though that is a gamble at the best of times."
I didn't need to say more than that.
For someone who had spent her life surrounded by violence, loss, and scars that never truly faded, the implication spoke for itself.
"And what would you have me do?" She asked hesitantly, and I wondered if Fury was watching from the other side of the mirror, trying to decide if he was about to lose his best spy.
Her posture hadn't changed, still relaxed, still composed, but there was a tension beneath it now. Not fear, exactly. Calculation. The kind that came from realizing this wasn't just another interrogation or negotiation she could walk away from unchanged.
"I want you to be my Queen, effectively my second in command." I said. "You'd be expected to manage the other members, keeping them happy and bringing any concerns to me. You'd also advise me in everything from politics to finance."
I kept my voice steady, laying it out plainly, letting the scope of it speak for itself. This wasn't an offer of muscle or blind loyalty. It was responsibility. Authority.
She looked me in the eyes.
"And I would have to sleep with you?" She asked.
There it was. Direct, unflinching. Testing the shape of the cage, if there was one.
I shrugged.
"You wouldn't have to." I said. "Devils handle relationships much differently to humans. Yes, I plan to have a harem, and as my Queen you would be expected to manage any members even if you yourself weren't one."
I paused, giving the words room to breathe, to be weighed.
"I won't say I'm not interested, but I wouldn't force you – or anyone else – into anything you aren't comfortable with."
Of course, the binding would make sure she would become interested even if she wasn't, but she didn't need to know that. She probably thought I was hiding something, but without more information, she couldn't know what. And that uncertainty showed, just faintly, in the way her gaze sharpened.
"And why me?" She asked with a vulnerability that moved me, even as I knew she was faking it. "With everything you are offering, you could have anyone. And I don't buy that its just because of my looks."
I gestured towards her.
"You have the perfect set of skills for the job." I said. "You are good at managing big egos, you are insightful and ruthless enough to be a great spymistress, and you are also charismatic enough to be a fantastic politician."
Her résumé, stripped of sentiment and laid bare.
I leaned back in my chair.
"I can fight, and I'm not stupid." I said. "But people skills and scheming aren't my thing. I need someone who can handle that side of things, and who I can trust to not abuse the amount of trust I will be placing on them."
The room felt smaller then, the hum of the helicarrier louder in the silence that followed.
"And you want me to be that someone?" She asked.
"I do."
"And if I say no?" She asked.
The question was calm, almost casual, but it carried weight. An exit offered, clearly marked, waiting to see how I'd react to it.
I shrugged.
"Then I go looking for someone else." I said. "You are my top candidate, but you aren't my only candidate. Besides, like I said, I want people I can trust. Not someone who will stab me in the back when I need them the most because I was forceful with their recruitment."
I let the implication hang there. No threats. No pressure. Just a boundary, clearly drawn.
"Is that why you took the Tesseract and the Scepter?" She asked. "So you can 'convince' others to join you?"
Her eyes never left my face, watching for the tell, the slip, the hint that this was all just a prettier version of coercion.
I laughed.
"I don't need the Scepter to manipulate minds." I said. "And I'm not planning to mind control anyone into joining me either."
The words came easily, because they were true. Mostly.
Of course, if I somehow got a capture by love confession I would probably recruit her, but I doubted that would be happening anytime soon.
"So why did you?" She asked.
There was genuine curiosity there now, layered over the suspicion. The shift was subtle, but unmistakable.
"Do you even know what they are?"
She leaned forward, forearms resting lightly on the table, interest no longer concealed.
"Why don't you tell me?"
"That is a long story." I said.
"I got time." She fired back without hesitation.
I studied her for a moment, weighing the risks. Telling her everything was out of the question, but some context wouldn't hurt. If anything, it would make it easier for her to understand just how much bigger this all was than SHIELD, than Earth, than anything she'd dealt with before.
I shrugged.
I figured telling her some of the lore couldn't hurt, even if I wasn't going to tell her my plans until she joined.
"Alright, story time."
I lifted a hand and cast a simple illusion over the table between us. Nothing elaborate—no sweeping lights or dramatic sound, just clean, precise imagery. Loki's illusions were works of art; mine were diagrams given motion. That suited the purpose just fine. I wasn't trying to dazzle her. I was trying to explain.
"The Tesseract and the Scepter are merely conduits." I said as shapes formed in the air. "They're tools, designed to let someone wield the power of their Infinity Stones."
A faint cube of light hovered above the table, angular and cold, its surface etched with patterns that shifted slowly as if the geometry itself were alive. Beside it, a slender staff coalesced, its head pulsing faintly.
With another gesture, the illusion changed. The artifacts dissolved into motes of light that flowed together, reforming into the vague silhouette of a humanoid figure—featureless, immense, its outline constantly blurring as if it couldn't quite fit into reality.
"They predate this universe," I continued, my voice steady, "and the multiverse itself. The Infinity Stones were once a single, ancient entity of limitless power. It was the sole being of all creation."
The silhouette expanded, stretching outward until it filled the illusionary space, stars and galaxies flickering into existence within its body like sparks trapped in amber.
"It wasn't just part of creation," I said. "It was all of creation."
She stared at the image, her face carefully neutral. No interruption, no immediate skepticism, just that intense, analytical focus she used when deciding whether a story was a lie—or a truth too big to be comfortable.
I wondered, briefly, if she believed me. At the very least, I'd shown her enough to make it clear I wasn't improvising some half-baked myth.
"You wouldn't be wrong to call this being God." I said. "And when God decided it no longer wished to exist, it committed a kind of cosmic suicide."
The silhouette shattered.
Light exploded outward, fragments tearing away from one another in slow, silent violence. From the wreckage, stars ignited. Space unfolded. Time itself seemed to ripple.
"That act," I continued, "is what gave birth to everything."
The illusion shifted again, resolving into six distinct points of light drifting through the void—each a different color, each radiating a presence that felt heavy even knowing it wasn't real.
"But that kind of power never truly vanishes." I said. "In each universe, the Infinity Stones came to be. The last remnants of God's being, broken apart so reality could survive them."
Finally, I recreated the Tesseract hovering above the table. Slowly, deliberately, its outer shell unraveled like threads being pulled loose, the cube peeling away to reveal a single, brilliant blue gem at its heart—cold, beautiful, and impossibly dense with power.
"And that," I said quietly, "is what you've been guarding."
I paused, letting the silence stretch, giving her time to absorb what I'd just told her. The illusion hovered patiently between us, its soft glow reflecting off the steel table and the mirrored wall behind her.
Then I continued.
"The Space Stone holds absolute mastery over space." I said, and with a subtle motion of my fingers the illusory blue gem began to rotate slowly, light bending around it in ways that made the air feel wrong. "It allows its wielder to teleport anything anywhere, regardless of distance or any measures taken to prevent it. It can fold space, erase distance entirely, violate the laws of physics… and even allow objects—or people—to exist in multiple places at the same time."
The gem split into two identical images, separated by meters of illusory distance, before snapping back together as one.
"And we were using it as a battery…" she muttered, almost to herself.
There was no humor in her voice. Just quiet disbelief.
I let the image dissolve and reform into a new gem, this one glowing a deep, unsettling green.
"The Time Stone." I said. "It allows for infinite manipulation of time itself. To travel through it. To stop it, rewind it, or accelerate it. To observe every possible future branching from a single moment."
The gem pulsed, and the illusion fractured into overlapping scenes—an object shattering, reforming, shattering again; a clock spinning forward and backward simultaneously.
"It even allows its wielder to exist in multiple points in time at once."
She stared at the tiny green stone with a look of horrified fascination, the kind of expression that came from realizing just how fragile cause and effect really were.
The illusion shifted again, the green light deepening into a violent purple.
"The Power Stone." I said. "It amplifies anything it touches to infinite levels. Strength. Durability. Energy output."
The gem flared, and the illusion showed a planet cracking apart like an eggshell beneath an invisible force.
"It renders its wielder effectively indestructible," I continued calmly, "and grants absolute physical power. No upper limit. No diminishing returns."
I let that image fade and brought back the Scepter, its familiar shape hovering in the air. Slowly, deliberately, the gem set near its tip detached, floating free as it began to glow a brilliant, unsettling yellow.
"The Mind Stone." I said, watching her shoulders tense almost imperceptibly. "It provides limitless psychic ability. Telepathy, telekinesis, thought manipulation—taken to their absolute extreme."
The yellow light rippled outward, ghostly silhouettes forming and freezing in place, eyes glowing as invisible strings wrapped around their heads.
"Omnipotence over the mind," I finished. "No matter how strong or disciplined that mind might be."
The illusion shifted again, the yellow fading into a soft, eerie orange.
"The Soul Stone." I said more quietly. "It grants absolute control over souls. Living or dead. Bound or free."
For a moment, the gem reflected countless faint, flickering lights around it—echoes of lives, presences felt rather than seen.
"And finally…"
The orange bled into a deep, liquid red.
"The Reality Stone." I said. "It allows its wielder to alter existence itself on a universal scale. Matter, energy, probability, causality—nothing is fixed."
The illusion warped, the table stretching, folding, becoming something else entirely before snapping back into place.
"Standard logic and universal law don't constrain it." I said. "They answer to it."
I let my hand fall.
The illusion vanished in an instant, leaving the cold, sterile interrogation room exactly as it had been before. No glowing gems. No cosmic diagrams. Just metal walls, a steel table, and silence.
Natasha sat across from me, stone-faced, eyes locked where the illusion had been, as if part of her was still seeing it.
"So you understand why I had to take them." I said quietly. "If anyone could gather all of them…"
"They would become infinite." She finished, the word leaving her mouth with a weight that hadn't been there before.
I nodded once.
"It's bad enough that there is one Infinity Stone on Earth," I said. "Never mind three."
Her head snapped toward me, composure cracking for the first time since I'd arrived. Her eyes widened, sharp and alert in a way that spoke of immediate recalculation.
"Three!?"
I inclined my head again, confirming it without drama.
"The Time Stone has been on Earth for centuries," I said. "Guarded by the Sorcerer Supreme. As for the Tesseract… I can only assume Odin didn't know what it truly was when he left it here after the Aesir–Jotun war."
She leaned back in her chair slowly, metal creaking faintly beneath her weight as she folded her arms, gaze unfocused as she stared past me and into the implications. Three god-fragments sitting on one planet. One being waved around in a lab like a glorified car battery.
"If they're that dangerous," she said at last, voice carefully neutral, "wouldn't it be better if you handed them over?"
Her eyes returned to me, steady now. Professional. Controlled.
"SHIELD could keep them safe," she continued. "Especially now that we know what they really are."
I shook my head, slow and deliberate.
"The kinds of beings who come looking for Infinity Stones are not threats SHIELD is equipped to deal with," I said. "Or even the Avengers, as impressive as they are."
I met her gaze without flinching.
"I have the means to keep the Stones out of reach. Completely. Somewhere no one else can access them, no matter how advanced or persistent they are."
She studied me for a long moment, blue eyes sharp, searching for cracks in my confidence. When she spoke again, there was steel beneath the words.
"I don't know if my bosses will accept that."
"Unless they have mages capable of breaching my personal pocket dimension on retainer," I replied evenly, "I don't believe they have a choice in the matter."
Silence fell between us again, heavier than before.
I pushed my chair back and stood, the scrape of metal against the floor loud in the enclosed room.
"If you decide to accept my offer," I said, straightening my coat, "use the flyer again and I will come."
I glanced once toward the mirrored wall, fully aware of the eyes likely watching from the other side.
"Until then," I added, "I have work to do."
The door to the interrogation room burst open with a sharp metallic bang, an agent in full tactical gear rushing in, weapon already raised. I caught the brief glimpse of panic in his eyes as he tried to line up a shot—some kind of specialized device, judging by the bulk of it.
Then the teleportation circle flared beneath my feet.
Light swallowed the room, space folded in on itself, and I was gone before the trigger could be pulled.Last edited: Dec 26, 2025 Lik