Standing atop the cliffs overlooking the Bay of Naples, Solomon gazed out at the serene azure sea, dotted with white sails. Although it wasn't quite summer yet, the warm, gentle breeze carried the faint scent of salt and seaweed, wrapping the bustling crowd below in a cozy, sunlit warmth.
From the balcony of a quaint hotel perched halfway up the cliffside in Positano, Solomon took in the breathtaking view. The Mediterranean-style buildings with their whitewashed walls and terracotta rooftops seemed to cascade down the lush green cliffs toward the small crescent-shaped bay. Below, the vibrant and chaotic Sant'Lucia fishing port bustled with life, its energy rising like the shimmering heat waves from the sea, filling the air with a peculiar sense of comfort.
The atmosphere was steeped in a lazy charm, accompanied by the occasional sound of distant string music. Seabirds—gulls, terns, and dark cormorants—gathered along the shore, waddling leisurely between the colorful boats anchored along the coast. To the left, the imposing Mount Vesuvius loomed in the distance, its slumbering peak draped in a thin veil of clouds that lazily circled, as if unwilling to drift away.
This volcano, born from the collision of the Eurasian, Indian, and African tectonic plates, stood as one of Europe's most dangerous. Yet, its fertile volcanic soil and temperate climate had given rise to lush vegetation and some of Naples' finest wines.
Solomon held a glass of one such wine—a ruby-red Taurasi from Campania. Its complex notes of red cherries, black spices, menthol, and mineral undertones danced across his palate, though he struggled to identify the elusive "mineral flavor" wine enthusiasts often described. No matter; it was exquisite enough to warrant a second glass. Bayonetta, lounging nearby, gave her approval of his taste. She had poured herself a glass and now joined him on the balcony to bask in the drowsy warmth of the afternoon breeze.
Since regaining her memories, Bayonetta had swiftly reacquired her refined palate. Having grown up on Italian cuisine, she was well-versed in wines—though, truth be told, nearly all witches seemed to possess an affinity for the finer things in life.
Except for Jeanne, of course. Jeanne had never paid much attention to food or drink. In her youth, she had been singularly focused on honing her combat skills and mastering the secret arts of the witches. After reaching adulthood, she had been thrust into the turmoil of the Lumen Sages' attacks. As a result, she found Solomon and Bayonetta's discussions about the nuances of wine completely incomprehensible.
"Why are we even here?" Jeanne finally asked, cutting through Solomon and Bayonetta's increasingly cozy conversation.
"Vacation, Jeanne," Solomon replied, turning around to lean against the railing. The network connection here was spotty at best, making it a perfect place for Harold Finch to finish updating the firewalls for the Kamar-Taj network. In the meantime, Solomon had received several calls from unknown numbers. Though tempted, he had refrained from answering, fearing the Machine might already be hunting down his alchemical designs for humanoid constructs. Until Stark and Finch completed their work, he had no intention of reconnecting his apartment's electrical appliances—he wasn't about to risk an ambush by a robot while walking down the street.
Finch had admitted that the Machine had, during its early stages, attempted to interact with the physical world. While that issue had been resolved, no one could guarantee it wouldn't try again.
Coming to Italy wasn't just a whim. Bayonetta and Jeanne had been clearing out angels as they worked their way across Central Europe toward Italy. Solomon had decided to join them for a few days to investigate whether any activity at the Laguna Order's former base on Isle del Sol might be behind the surge in angelic appearances.
However, Bayonetta had declined Solomon's assistance, insisting this was a minor skirmish she could handle herself. She reminded him that she had been doing this long before he entered her life, and she encouraged him to enjoy the rare vacation. She assured him she could manage the situation on her own.
Staying in Positano didn't mean Solomon had completely escaped the Machine's watchful gaze. Before this brief respite, he had been monitored daily by school cameras, and those persistent calls from unknown numbers had begun to wear on his nerves. Moreover, vacationing didn't mean he could abandon all his other responsibilities. In the Eternal City, the druids of the Solla Redlin Order were still in desperate need of training. Their knowledge of druidic spells was woefully incomplete, and Solomon had to use materials from Balthazar's archives to educate them.
Even more troublesome was Maya Hansen's laboratory. Without consulting Solomon, Hansen had taken it upon herself to deal with certain individuals by… well, shooting them. This led to complications that she initially refused to disclose to Solomon—until someone shot at them during lunch in Rome. Only then did she reveal the full extent of her troubles.
Although the cash Solomon had taken and laundered through S.H.I.E.L.D. was theoretically clean, some of the bills still carried traceable markings. It turned out that many parties, not just Nick Fury and Solomon, had been eyeing that money. Fury had tried to keep the whole affair under wraps, but his superiors were less cooperative. From scattered clues, Alexander Pierce had pieced together that Solomon was the one who had taken the cash. Without needing to deploy HYDRA agents, he simply hired a few ex-Marines for the job. With $500,000 as the bounty, these "Mad Dogs" were more than willing to risk everything—even civilian casualties—to complete their mission.
"So… that's why you brought her here?" Jeanne asked, gesturing toward Maya Hansen, who was calmly sipping her wine and shrugged nonchalantly in response.
"And her?" Jeanne pointed accusingly at Sameen Shaw, who stood by the door in a black tactical vest, her pistol casually in hand. Shaw had taken Solomon's request to protect Hansen seriously. Because she was on duty, she hadn't joined the wine discussion. She merely glanced at Jeanne before resuming her vigilant watch over the hallway.
"We're supposed to be on vacation! Why did you bring two more women with you?" Jeanne fumed, snatching a wine bottle and chugging directly from it. After a few noisy gulps, she slammed the half-empty bottle back on the table. Bayonetta, thoroughly entertained, leaned back and watched with an amused smirk, eager to see how Solomon would handle this.
"It's… incidental, Jeanne," Solomon said cautiously.
Shaw and Hansen both shot him incredulous looks.
"Hansen happened to be in Rome because I'd set up a teleportation circle there. Shaw was already there after I finished my coursework, so I figured I'd ask her to double as Hansen's bodyguard while I'm away," Solomon explained matter-of-factly, oblivious to the growing danger in Bayonetta and Jeanne's eyes.
"Boss, you didn't hire me to protect you, right?" Shaw asked, gauging the increasingly tense atmosphere. When Solomon confirmed her suspicion, she visibly relaxed, patting her chest. "Thank God. I'm not signing up to die with you."
"What are you talking about—" Solomon began, only to be cut off by Jeanne's glare.
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