Luke was slightly startled when he heard Bumblebee's report.
So fast?
He hadn't expected the military to mobilize this quickly.
And this time, it wasn't like General Ross's stubborn, single-minded hunts. No, this was another level entirely.
Helicopters, armored vehicles, soldiers armed to the teeth dispatched immediately, without hesitation.
Luke couldn't help but laugh under his breath. "Do they really think my grocery store is some kind of heavily fortified military base?"
But even after hearing the news, he wasn't the least bit anxious.
He knew the defenses of his grocery store better than anyone. It wasn't just a corner shop, it was a fortress disguised in neon lights and glass doors.
Bullets, bombs, missiles, grenades, it didn't matter. The walls could shrug them off like raindrops.
The front door itself was reinforced with Vibranium, a gate that not even a tank shell could scratch.
Besides, even though Wanda and Sharon had moved out, the store wasn't unguarded. There was still Red Braid in there.
That fiery-headed ex-gangster had been living inside ever since he'd been hired, rarely stepping out. And now, after merging with the symbiote Riot, ordinary human weapons might as well be toys in front of him.
Sure, Riot had been badly mauled in that savage battle with Doggo, but conventional weapons? They barely tickled him.
Still, Luke wasn't one to take chances. Better to see it with his own eyes. Better to see which army had the courage, or the stupidity, to attack his store.
Luke's lips curved into a small, amused smile. He climbed into Bumblebee's cabin with Doggo at his heels, the husky already wagging his tail as though excited for the chaos to come.
The car's engine roared, and with a smooth lift, Bumblebee ascended into the night sky, speeding toward Manhattan.
Meanwhile, in the S.H.I.E.L.D. conference room.
After Luke walked out, silence devoured the room.
Not a single Avenger spoke.
They had seen wars, alien invasions, Hydra massacres, but nothing like this.
A congressman, bitten in half like a cookie. Swallowed whole by Luke's dog as though he were nothing more than dessert.
The brutality of it hadn't just shocked them. It had unsettled them to their core.
Natasha leaned back in her chair, arms crossed tightly, her face pale beneath her composure.
Banner pressed a hand against his temple, muttering something under his breath. Even T'Challa's jaw was tense, his usually unshakable poise disrupted by what he'd just witnessed.
Nick Fury sat in silence, one hand on the table, the other rubbing at the scarred skin above his eye. Out of everyone here, he'd had the most dealings with Luke. And still, the image haunted him, the ease with which Doggo had devoured Brooke, as though it was no different than snacking on a piece of bread.
A chill crawled down Fury's spine. He had always prided himself on being clever, on surviving in a world filled with superhumans by using his head.
And once again, he realized just how smart he had been not to push Luke too far.
He thought back to the phone call he didn't make, the reckless orders he didn't give. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
If he had ever crossed that line… it wouldn't be just Brooke inside that dog's stomach. It would be him as well.
"Director."
The voice broke through his thoughts. Steve Rogers had risen from his chair, fists clenched at his sides. His blue eyes flicked down to the empty chair where Congressman Brooke had been sitting minutes ago.
"How are we going to explain this?" Steve's tone was firm, but quiet. "The congressman… he's gone. What do we tell the people above us?"
The question made Fury freeze.
Yes. Brooke hadn't just been eaten. He had been eaten in front of witnesses.
How was he supposed to report that?
Should he tell the truth, that a husky swallowed a politician alive? That Luke had allowed it to happen?
The thought alone made Fury's chest tighten. That would be suicide.
No, impossible. Even if Luke didn't care, even if Luke might never find out, Fury wasn't about to gamble his life on that chance.
He slammed his palm against the table, making several Avengers flinch.
"Everyone listen up," Fury barked. "I need ideas. Lies. Excuses. A cover story big enough to bury this entire mess. I don't care how ridiculous it sounds, we're not writing 'Death by Husky' into the official report."
A heavy silence followed.
Then, slowly, the Avengers exchanged glances.
Steve frowned, thoughtful. Natasha pursed her lips, calculating. Even T'Challa leaned forward, fingertips steepled.
For all their differences, none of them were about to let Fury handle this alone. If Luke was as dangerous as he seemed, then keeping him appeased was in everyone's interest.
And so the brainstorming began.
The conference room went quiet once more, but this time with the heavy weight of plotting, every hero's mind was spinning desperately for a plausible lie.
…
58th Avenue, Manhattan.
Luke's grocery store was alive with its usual late-night crowd. Despite its strange reputation, or perhaps because of it, the place never lacked customers. People who shopped here once almost never went anywhere else again.
The mutated Lucky Cat, now at level four, made sure of that. Its strange aura was enough to make ordinary shoppers loyal, even fanatical. Against common thugs, it was overkill. Against customers, it was pure business magic.
The register overflowed daily.
But no matter how much money flowed in, Luke barely saw a dime. Wanda and Sharon dropped by every other day, scooping up the earnings until the till was nearly empty.
But Luke didn't mind, he didn't need money. To him, wealth was just numbers in a bank. If he ever wanted more, Bumblebee could crack into any system in seconds.
Wanda didn't need it either, but she loved having it. Growing up in poverty had carved that habit into her, the habit of stacking bills and never letting them go.
And so, the grocery store thrived.
At nine o'clock sharp, the last customer shuffled out, arms loaded with bags, smiling like a child with candy.
Red Braid exhaled heavily as he watched the door close. A long, weary sigh.
It had been a busy day. His arms ached from carrying boxes, his head throbbed from listening to chatter. And yet, his body, thanks to Riot, was still strong. He could go for days without sleep if he wanted to.
The real exhaustion was mental.
'I just want to lie down. Sleep. Forget everything for one night.'
But Riot's hunger was gnawing again.
Since the symbiote's integration, his appetite had multiplied fivefold. If he didn't feed Riot, the creature would start feeding on him.
Luke had warned him. Had even left money aside to make sure he always had food. And because Riot had long since submitted to Luke, there were rules, no killing civilians, no eating people at random.
The partnership wasn't bad. Riot provided power; Red Braid provided self-control. But tonight, the symbiote's voice was sharper, needier.
'Hungry. Feed me.'
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Red Braid muttered, stretching his arms. "We'll cook something. With a lot of chocolate. Happy?"
He shuffled toward the door to close up the shop when Riot's growl echoed in his skull. "Someone is coming."
Red Braid yawned. "If it's a customer, too bad. We're closed. They can wait till tomorrow. I need sleep."
"No. Not a customer, you fool." Riot's tone was urgent now. "Uninvited guests. Many of them."
Red Braid blinked. "Uninvited…?" He stepped to the door, peering out into the dim street. But the dark revealed nothing unusual.
No gangsters. No drunkards. No lingering shoppers.
Still, his gut tightened. Since Luke had taken over, no one dared stir up trouble here. The gangs nearby had been crushed by the Lucky Cat, their leaders turned into regulars who now paid happily for groceries instead of asking for protection money.
So who would dare?
"One… two… three…" Riot began counting, his voice like a drumbeat in Red Braid's skull. "One hundred. One hundred and one. One hundred and twenty men, all in uniform. Weapons drawn. Five armored vehicles parked down the street. Two helicopters circling above."
Red Braid's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding me."
But Riot's voice wasn't panicked. It was… excited.
Over the months, he had learned Earth's ways. He had learned to tell the difference between civilian and soldier, weapon and toy. And the sight of all those armed men stirred something deep inside him.
"They are enemies," Riot hissed. "Armed invaders. Which means…"
His tongue slithered out between jagged teeth, silver mass rippling across Red Braid's body as the symbiote took control.
"…we can eat them."
The lights inside the store flickered once, then went out as Riot deliberately shut them off.
In the sudden dark, silver tendrils covered Red Braid from head to toe. Muscles swelled, claws stretched, the transformation complete.
Riot licked his lips with a long, grotesque tongue, saliva dripping onto the floor.
Compared to Phage who had the luxury of living with Doggo and tasting chaos regularly, Riot's life had been unbearably dull.
But tonight?
Tonight promised a feast, a chance to unleash himself and devour to his heart's content.
At last… something fun.
…