'What did I do wrong?'
That question hammered through Congressman Brooke's mind as silence fell over the conference room.
Everyone was staring at him, not with anger, not with respect, not even with outrage. No, the looks in their eyes were worse. They looked at him as if he were a fool. A child playing with fire in a room full of gasoline.
Why? Why were they looking at him like that?
He had expected fury. He had expected the Avengers to leap across the table in righteous indignation, to snarl and shout and maybe even try to restrain him for daring to draw a gun in the middle of a meeting.
Instead… nothing. Just those strange eyes, full of pity. And disbelief.
Brooke's chest rose and fell sharply. His breathing grew ragged as his confusion began to curdle into panic.
No.
No, there was another problem. A bigger one.
The dog.
That damned husky was still standing on the conference table, tongue hanging out, staring straight at him. Its eyes were calm, almost mocking.
Not a single wound on its furry body.
But that was impossible. He was sure his aim had been true! His marksmanship wasn't legendary, but it wasn't bad either. At this range, he couldn't have missed.
So why? Why was the mutt still alive?
Brooke's hands trembled. Sweat slid down the back of his neck. Could it be… did I really miss? No. No, impossible!
His anger spiked again as if rage could drown out his doubt. He clenched the pistol tighter, veins bulging in his hand, and raised it once more.
Around him, chairs scraped against the floor.
The Avengers stepped back. One by one, silently, as if a single sound would provoke the inevitable.
Natasha's sharp eyes narrowed, but even she retreated. Banner swallowed hard and drifted behind Steve. Even Fury, whose expression remained impassive, took half a step back, distancing himself from the coming storm.
But they weren't afraid of being accidentally shot. They were afraid of something else.
Because every single one of them knew what was coming.
This wasn't just any dog, this was Luke's dog.
And some of them still remembered Sokovia. They remembered how more than a hundred Hydra agents disappeared in less than five minutes, swallowed whole by a dog whose appetite had no end.
Compared to that feast, what was a single congressman? Not even a snack probably.
Luke sat with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. To be honest, he hadn't expected it either. He'd known Brooke was arrogant, greedy, and full of himself, but bold enough to pull out a pistol in front of Fury and the Avengers? That was a new level of stupidity.
Even worse, Brooke had fired. Not just at anyone, but at Doggo.
Luke's lips quirked into the faintest of smirks. He finally understood.
It wasn't just arrogance. Brooke had the backing of the United States government. And in the Marvel world, that kind of backing made people unbearably arrogant. From generals to presidents, they all thought they were untouchable.
Fine. Let him think that. As long as he remembered who he had just aimed at.
Doggo turned his head slowly, eyes leaving Brooke and fixing on Luke.
Those intelligent eyes seemed to ask a single, simple question: "This one… can I eat it?"
Luke met his dog's gaze. He didn't need words. Just a small nod.
Permission granted.
Doggo's entire posture shifted in an instant. His lazy husky demeanor sharpened into something predatory. His tail twitched, pupils dilated. His tongue slid back into his mouth as his jaw tightened eagerly.
This was why Doggo loved following Luke whenever he went out to play. Because only this way did he sometimes get a taste of real meat.
At the helicarrier, meals were boring, just regular dog food. But out here? Out here was where the delicacies were found.
Bang!
Brooke fired again, this time carefully aiming for the husky's skull. His finger jerked, smoke spurted from the muzzle.
And his eyes went wide in disbelief at the result.
The husky caught the bullet between its teeth. Like a piece of kibble. It crunched once, and the sound of shattering metal rang in the stunned silence.
"No… no, that's not possible," Brooke whispered, voice cracking.
He fired again desperately.
Bang. Bang. Bang!
Three rapid shots in a row, so fast his hand shook from the recoil.
But Doggo's head had already warped, grotesque and monstrous. His jaws distended, gaping wider and wider until they were larger than Brooke's entire chest. Each bullet vanished into the abyss, swallowed whole as though they were nothing more than bread crumbs.
Brooke's hand went slack. The pistol slipped slightly in his grasp as his face drained of color.
"W-what are you…?" he stammered.
But he didn't get the chance to finish.
With a guttural snarl, Doggo leapt forward.
The leap was wrong. Too high, too far, too fast for something of his size. And in a blink, he was above Brooke, blotting out the ceiling lights.
Darkness swallowed Brooke's vision.
Something wet and sticky grazed his skin, and then a sharp, stabbing pain burst through his neck.
His last thought was horror before everything went black.
Doggo bit his head clean off.
The body dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, spurting blood like a broken fountain. But Doggo wasn't finished.
No, ever since merging with Phage, he'd developed a preference. The head, the brain particularly, was the best part. Rich, savory, delicate in a way flesh never could be.
He savored it for a moment and then gulped.
The Avengers stood frozen in shock as Doggo casually dropped to the ground. His body warped again, jaws stretching impossibly wide, and with a single disgusting shluuup, he swallowed the congressman's headless corpse whole.
The only sound in the room was his chewing and swallowing, followed by silence.
Total silence.
Even for seasoned Avengers, the sight was grotesque. They had all seen Doggo eat before, but never this close, and never this casually in the middle of an important meeting.
Doggo's gaping maw was no longer cute. It was an entrance to hell itself, and the wet sucking sound that followed seemed to carry the screams of the damned.
Peter gagged, his young face pale. Scott looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. Even T'Challa, proud and unshakable, was stone-still, his jaw tight and eyes wide.
They all turned their horrified gazes toward Luke, who was sitting comfortably, resting his chin in one hand, looking bored.
To the rookies, it was a nightmare. But to Luke, it was just another Tuesday.
Doggo licked his lips. His monstrous form shrank, folding back into the familiar husky shape. He waddled happily toward Luke, tail wagging, and rubbed his blood-slicked muzzle against his master's leg.
Luke grimaced and shoved the dog aside with his foot. "Ugh. You're not getting headpats until you wash that."
Doggo blinked, then shook himself, spraying a few specks of blood on the pristine conference table, before plopping down obediently at Luke's feet.
At last, Luke stood up, stretching lazily as though nothing at all had happened.
"Well," he yawned, waving a hand dismissively, "that was entertaining. You can keep having your little meeting. No need to send me off."
With that, he turned and strolled toward the exit, flip-flops smacking against the floor.
The Avengers and Nick Fury remained rooted in place, eyes wide, unsure if they had just witnessed the most horrifying execution in S.H.I.E.L.D's history, or simply another day in Luke's bizarre life.
Once outside, Bumblebee's calm voice crackled into Luke's earpiece:
"Boss, incoming. A hundred soldiers en route to the grocery store. Two minutes out. Two armed helicopters. Five armored vehicles. Ten sniper rifles, all loaded with armor-piercing rounds."
…