After unceremoniously kicking Nick Fury out of his apartment, Solomon instructed the android and the Cheshire Cat to keep an eye on the place and clean up a bit. Meanwhile, he grabbed a stainless-steel pot and stepped through a portal. His destination? To bring food to Bayonetta and Jeanne. While the witches didn't need food to survive, Solomon was more than happy to use it as an excuse to spend time with Bayonetta.
"Good afternoon, Rodin," Solomon greeted as he casually placed the pot of stew on the bar counter. The fallen angel craftsman rolled his eyes behind his ever-present sunglasses.
"Don't be mad," Solomon said. "It's not like this bar has many customers. A pot of beef stew won't ruin the vibe. If you don't mind, how about a martini? I'm finally of legal drinking age."
"The legal drinking age is 21. Don't think I don't know how old you are, kid. Soda or milk?" Rodin leaned in, sniffing the lingering sulfur scent on Solomon. "You smell like trouble. I heard there was chaos in Hell recently. Was that your doing?"
"Are you referring to the armed tour from Kamar-Taj or my little tussle with Marduk?" Solomon took a long sip of the cold soda Rodin handed him. Carbonated, high-sugar drinks were his favorite. He set the glass down and let out a satisfied belch. "Mephisto and Marduk were scheming against each other, and I got caught in the middle. Don't worry—not all of the Demon Pillars are rebellious. At least Phoenix is adorable."
"There aren't many Demon Pillars hoping for the Seventh Throne to rise again, but you should still be careful," Rodin said, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. "There's a connection between Baal, the First Pillar, and Paimon, the Tenth. Watch yourself. I don't want to see the witches flipping Hell upside down—it'd mess up my supply chain. You know my clients aren't limited to witches, right?"
"That's actually why I'm here, Rodin. I need guns. Lots of guns. No, not those hanging behind the bar," Solomon clarified, pointing at the ornate weapons displayed on the wall. "I need firearms with high kinetic energy and stopping power—rocket-launcher-level stuff. No gimmicky Gyrojet nonsense. I'm bringing my army to Hell, so don't worry about your supply chain. I'll take care of it."
"When do you need them?" Rodin's interest was clearly piqued.
"As soon as possible. At least one prototype so I can test it."
"Boya, when did you start hanging out in bars?"
Solomon was mid-sip when the witches strolled into the establishment, looking relaxed. Hunting angels didn't seem to bother them much. Bayonetta took the seat beside Solomon and nonchalantly placed her legs on his lap. This time, her black stockings featured intricate, faintly visible patterns. She intentionally let them graze against Solomon's thighs, slowly creating an unbearable sensation.
Solomon could feel her warmth and the deliberate friction, causing his breathing to grow heavier.
"You're looking like quite the grown-up man," Bayonetta teased, clearly pleased with his reaction. "Would you like big sister to teach you something little boys shouldn't know? I'm looking forward to it~"
"Cereza!" Jeanne sighed in exasperation, though her tone was laced with familiarity. It was part of her daily routine to complain about Bayonetta. She took the seat on Solomon's other side.
"The angels have been descending more frequently," Jeanne said. "It's endless. Some big ones have even shown up. Kamar-Taj keeps passing these issues onto us. Cereza and I haven't had a moment to rest. Do you know how exhausting this has been, Solomon? And you only show up today! Do you even know how hard we've been working?"
"Well, someone has to make money to keep the household running. The Ancient One gave us a side gig, after all. I still can't dip endlessly into Kamar-Taj's earthly resources," Solomon said, forcing a smile as he snapped his fingers. The previously cold stew in the stainless-steel pot began steaming again, the rich aroma of beef wafting from under the lid.
"So, I brought some compensation. A rare treat—beef stew. You two should take a break. I've already had Diana air out your blankets. You'll sleep well tonight with the scent of sunshine."
"And you'll be joining us, won't you?" Bayonetta licked her lips, prompting another exasperated sigh from Jeanne.
"Are you serious, Coulson? Six days? You turned a fully refurbished, state-of-the-art plane into a pile of junk in just six days?"
Coulson stood ramrod straight as Nick Fury berated him. The recent incident was entirely Coulson's fault. His oversight had allowed Peruvian military operatives to board the Bus, resulting in the team being ambushed. Though the agents managed to neutralize the threat using an 084 object—a HYDRA weapon connected to the Tesseract—the cost was high. The plane's cabin now had a gaping hole, temporarily patched with an inflatable life raft. The Bus was limping along at a snail's pace.
Coulson's mind drifted to the maintenance records. The plane had undergone repairs and even had its engine replaced before this mission. But he bit his tongue, choosing instead to defend his team. Unfortunately, his words only made Fury angrier.
"Don't talk to me about authorization! Do you even know how much that plane is worth? It even had a damn bar—a nice bar!" Fury fumed, pacing back and forth. "Don't give me excuses, Coulson. I could demote you to negative clearance if I wanted to!"
"I understand, sir," Coulson said, choosing not to argue further.
"I want that plane repaired and restored to its original condition! And don't let Fitz and Simmons stick a ridiculous fish tank or something on it," Fury snapped, switching topics abruptly. "And about that new girl, Skye—she's a liability."
"I know, sir."
"You know?" Fury glared at him before grumbling and turning to leave. But just before stepping off the plane, he stopped and asked, "Where did you go before this mission, Coulson?"
"New York. Just passing through—I had lunch," Coulson replied calmly. Fury scrutinized Coulson's face for any signs of deception but found none.
"What did you eat? It's been a while since I've been to New York."
"Brazilian barbecue on Manhattan's West 53rd Street, sir. Highly recommended."
"Good. I'll check it out." Fury sniffed the air near Coulson—just gunpowder, Peruvian dust, and the faint scent of cabin air freshener. No trace of oil or smoke. Internally, Fury raised Solomon's threat level another notch. The sorcerer's mastery over mind manipulation was too dangerous. Contingency plans would need to be made.
"Tahiti. How is it?"
"It's a magical place. I'm ready for our next mission in New York, sir. It involves an old friend."
Fury nodded silently and disembarked.
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