It was, however, a difficult time for Agent Coulson. When Leon's "World Harmony" ability awakened, it threw the ambient fortune and misfortune in the area into chaos. The unlucky Coulson was inadvertently caught in the crossfire, and for days afterward, he was plagued by a string of incredibly bad luck.
Leon pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number he had come to despise. The moment the call connected, before the person on the other end could speak, Leon announced, "Hey, Fury, I'm going to be a superhero. You can find someone else to be your agent. I quit!"
Without waiting for a response, Leon hung up.
On the other end of the line, Nick Fury was bewildered. "Is Leon having another episode? Is he mentally unstable?" Ever since the young agent had brazenly insulted him, Fury had remembered him. He never expected the kid to just up and quit.
He called for his adjutant. "Hill, have someone check on an agent named Leon Jones. I suspect there's something wrong with him."
Maria Hill pulled up Leon's file. Leon Jones, Level 4 Agent, one year of service with S.H.I.E.L.D. Initially an enthusiastic recruit, he had become progressively more passive. Following a mission with Agent Coulson two weeks ago, he had been on extended leave. The file also noted a history of insubordination toward the Director.
Hill suppressed a smile, careful not to let Fury notice. She had heard about the incident. The nickname Leon had given Fury—"black-boiled egg"—was surprisingly apt. She glanced at Fury, whose expression was a mask of stern confusion.
At that moment, the headquarters of Marvel was a hive of activity. Reporters swarmed the entrance, eager for a scoop. Curious onlookers gathered, drawn by the spectacle. A crowd of mutants with physical deformities waited patiently, hoping to have their abilities removed. Only a small fraction of the crowd was there for the real purpose: to become superheroes.
Leon stepped out of a taxi and was about to pay when the driver turned around with a massive grin. "Kid, it's your lucky day! I just won the lottery! I'm in such a great mood, this ride's on me. Have fun!"
Leon smiled back. "Sounds like you're the lucky one, sir!"
This is how it should be for a protagonist, he thought. On the way over, Leon had felt the driver was a good person, so he had shifted some of the ambient luck, splitting it between the driver and himself. He hadn't expected it to result in a lottery win.
He looked up at the towering, impressive building. "This is where I'm meant to shine," he declared to himself. He walked toward the entrance, and as if by magic, a path cleared for him. He entered the admissions department of Marvel without any trouble. As he walked through the halls, he felt a profound sense of belonging, as if he had finally come home. Every staff member he passed greeted him with a warm, welcoming smile.
"I've finally found the right place," he said to himself, his heart soaring.
When he reached the interview area, there was no need to submit a resume. He just had to find a spot in line and wait his turn. He had barely sat down when the person ahead of him was called in and then quickly came out. Just like that, it was his turn. He straightened his clothes and walked into the interview room with an air of unshakeable confidence.
The room was constructed of translucent glass, allowing a vague view of the inside, but the soundproofing was perfect. The moment Leon stepped inside, the noisy chatter of the waiting area vanished. Four interviewers sat at a long table. Two were company employees in formal suits, both wearing monocles, seated at either end. In the middle were the red-haired Jean Grey and the metallic giant, Colossus.
"Hey, you guys look awesome!" Leon greeted them with an easy familiarity.
"Full of spirit," the interviewer on the far left noted.
"My name is Leon Jones," Leon began. "I used to be a secret agent, but that job wasn't for me. I happened to see your company on TV, so I came to apply."
Jean Grey asked, "You certainly have energy. Is there anything different about you, something that makes you stand out?"
Leon stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You mean superpowers? Well, I'm very lucky. I can control luck and misfortune."
Colossus leaned forward, intrigued. "That's a very special ability. Can you demonstrate it for us?"
"Do you have any props? Something like dice?" Leon asked, miming the shape with his fingers.
Just as Piotr was about to say no, the interviewer to his left produced a set of dice as if from nowhere. "I have some." He handed them to Colossus, gesturing for him to test the candidate.
Piotr juggled the six dice in his massive hand. "What do you want to do?"
Leon glanced at them. "Throw them all. I say they will all land on six."
"Very confident," Piotr rumbled. He tossed the dice onto the table. They bounced and tumbled, one by one settling with the number six facing up. When the last die came to a stop, all six showed a six.
"That's quite impressive," Piotr admitted. He threw them again. And again. Each time, the result was the same. "Alright," he said, "change the number."
"Five," Leon said confidently, holding up an open palm. "All fives."
Piotr threw the dice again. As predicted, all six landed on five.
"Incredible," Jean and Piotr said in unison.
"Okay, you've passed," Jean said. "Go to the room in the back and register your information. You can report for superhero training in one week. We will contact you with the details."
"That was easy," Leon muttered to himself as he walked toward the back room.
At that exact moment, a man was walking down the street outside. He heard a clatter and looked down to see his keys had fallen. "Phew, lucky they didn't fall into the sewer," he thought, relieved to see them resting on the grate of a manhole cover. He bent down to pick them up, but the movement dislodged his cell phone from his pocket. It slipped out, fell through a gap in the grate, and disappeared into the darkness below with a faint splash. To make matters worse, the impact vibrated the grate just enough to knock the keys loose, and they too fell into the sewer.
"No!" the man cried, dropping to his knees and peering into the gloom, trying to figure out how to retrieve his belongings. Just then, a street-sweeping truck rumbled past, dousing the unfortunate man with a spray of filthy water.
"Damn it! Am I cursed? Why am I so unlucky today?!" he yelled at the sky.
The total amount of luck and misfortune in the world is conserved. When some are lucky, others must, by necessity, be unlucky. This was the law of "World Harmony."
In Tony's suburban base, Tony Stark lay shirtless on an operating table, the pale blue light of the Arc Reactor glowing in his chest. Ratchet, the Autobot medic, stood over him, a familiar red glove covering his massive hand.
"Tony, this Fire Glove is truly fascinating," Ratchet said. "It can even steal abstract concepts like ideas. But you know, I believe I could remove the shrapnel from your chest without this device. I am a professional."
"This is safer," Tony replied from the table. "Your hands are a little too big for this kind of delicate work."
Ratchet nodded. "Very well. I am quite proficient with this tool now. Are you ready?"
"Anytime you are, doc. Let's get this over with."