"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era..." Wanda chanted in a exaggerated whisper, dancing around him. "Oh, Great Master of the Fog, shall we bring the incense?"
Even Sharon joined in, leaning toward Pietro. "Does he always get this dramatic after a meeting?"
"Usually he just buys a company," Pietro joked, though he looked at Aryan with a wary eye. "Alright, alright. I'll say the words. If it means I don't have to worry about a bullet catching up to me, I'll call you the 'King of Sparkles' for all I care."
"It's 'King of Yellow and Black,'" Aryan corrected with a mock-glare. "And it's serious. If you mess up the rhythm, the anchor won't take. So, stop the teasing for thirty seconds."
He reached out, taking Wanda's hand first—since she was already familiar, she was the "stabilizer." Then he gestured for Pietro and Sharon to place their hands on his shoulders.
The mood shifted. The laughter lingered in the air like a ghost, but as Aryan began the recitation, the temperature in the lab dropped twenty degrees.
"Repeat after me," Aryan commanded. "The Fool that doesn't belong to this era..."
Pietro looked at Sharon, mouthed the word 'Cult', and then sighed. "The Fool that doesn't belong to this era..."
"The Mysterious Ruler above the gray fog..." Aryan continued.
Sharon's voice was steady, but her eyes were wide. She could feel the static electricity rising in her hair. "The Mysterious Ruler above the gray fog."
By the time they reached the line, "The King of Yellow and Black who handles good luck," the lab's glass partitions were vibrating.
"The King of Yellow and Black... who handles good luck," Pietro muttered, his speedster senses screaming that something massive was happening.
Wanda added her voice, her scarlet energy weaving between their joined hands, her teasing tone replaced by a resonant power. "The True Creator who embodies luck, deception, and fate."
As the final plea—"We pray for the mercy of your gaze"—left their lips, the room seemed to implode with a white light.
Pietro gasped, stumbling back as his metabolism, already accelerated, hit a new level of efficiency. He felt the Beta-Level regeneration snap into place, his cells locking into a state of youthful perfection. Sharon leaned against the table, her breath coming in short bursts. The minor aches of a life in espionage—the old bullet wound in her shoulder, the stress in her neck—simply ceased to exist.
"Oh," Sharon whispered, looking at her skin. "I feel... solid. Like I'm made of granite."
"That's the 500-year clock, Sharon," Aryan said, stepping forward and catching her as she swayed. He pulled her into a reassuring hug, then did the same for Wanda, who was basking in the afterglow of the ritual.
Pietro shook his head, vibrating his hands to test his new stability. "Okay. I'm fast, I'm immortal, and I have a cult leader for a brother-in-law. This is officially the weirdest day of my life."
"Get used to it, Pietro," Aryan laughed, pulling Wanda back into his side. "Because we have a lot of work to do. T'Challa and Namor are landing in ten minutes. We have a Winter Soldier to fix, and a world to take over."
Wanda kissed Aryan's cheek, her eyes glowing. "But first, can we get those robes? I think I'd look great in scarlet velvet."
Sharon didn't let the moment pass. Stepping forward with a confident smile, she leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to his other cheek, her hand resting briefly on his chest. "If we're going to be immortal, we might as well do it in style," she added, her voice dropping into a playful hum. "But for the record, I'm holding out for something in navy blue. It matches the 'cult' aesthetic better."
Aryan stood there, flanked by two of the most powerful and beautiful women in the world, feeling the weight of the five centuries he had just secured for them.
Pietro, however, had reached his limit. He made a loud gagging noise and turned away, throwing his hands up in the air. "Oh, please! Not in front of me! I'm immortal now, which means I have five hundred years of this to look forward to? I'm going to go vibrate my eardrums until they bleed. Call me when the Kings get here and we actually start doing something that doesn't involve flirting!"
"If Pietro is going to be this dramatic for the next five centuries, we might need to buy a second Hive just for his ego," Aryan laughed, pulling both Wanda and Sharon closer into a comfortable embrace.
Wanda rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Only five centuries? I was planning on teasing you for at least a millennium, Aryan. You make it far too easy when you stand there giving 'The Future of Humanity' speeches."
"It's the chin," Sharon added, reaching up to adjust Aryan's collar with a playful smirk. "He tilts it just enough to look like he's posing for a statue. It's very 'Sovereign of the World.' Though, I have to admit, the cult leader look is growing on me. It's a very commanding aesthetic."
Aryan looked between them, his heart full. "I'm surrounded by comedians. I literally just rewrote the laws of life and death for you two, and all I get is fashion critiques and statue jokes?"
"Oh, poor Aryan," Wanda cooed, her eyes shimmering with scarlet light as she leaned in to whisper against his ear. "Don't worry. We love the statue. We just like to see if we can make the statue blush."
"She's right," Sharon whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth before stepping back with a wink. "It's a very important stress test for your new high-speed regeneration. We need to see if your heart rate can actually keep up with us for five hundred years."
Aryan chuckled, his hands lingering on their waists. "I think I'll manage. But if you two keep team-teasing me like this, I might have to add a 'No Mocking the King' clause to the Tarot Club bylaws."
"You wouldn't dare," Wanda giggled, nipping at his earlobe. "You'd be too bored without us."
"She's got you there, Aryan," Sharon laughed, leaning back against the lab table. "You bought us five centuries because you couldn't imagine a single day without this 'noise.' Admit it."
Aryan sighed, his expression softening into one of pure affection. "I admit nothing. But... I suppose a little noise is a small price to pay for forever."
The moment was interrupted by the heavy thrum of a high-altitude jet descending toward the Hive's landing pad. The playful atmosphere sharpened instantly into one of professional readiness.
"That's the signal," Aryan said, his eyes turning toward the hangar bay doors. "The Kings have arrived. Tony, T'Challa, and Namor are on that bird."
Wanda straightened her posture, her scarlet energy beginning to simmer around her fingertips. "Well then. Let's go show them that the Hive doesn't just have better tech—it has better company."