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Dragonborn's Might makes Right by Infonticus

Game X-overs & Avengers Xover Rated: M, English, Adventure, Words: 356k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Aug 25, 2021 Updated: Jun 12, 2022

514Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Klee's First Day of School!

[The Red Room, Siberian Airspace]

"Sexy, perfectly obedient, spy-assassins in skin-tight leather catsuits. What's not to love about the Black Widows?" My deep voice hummed in appreciation.

The Red Room aka the Black Widow Program was a relic from the era of the Soviet Union that endured today. Very young girls with excellent genetics, both orphaned or bought, were whisked away here to be indoctrinated, brainwashed and trained to be the most lethal infiltration experts in the world. And to borrow a quote from their former master: 'One command, the oil and stock markets crumble. One command, and a quarter of the planet will starve. Widows can start and end wars. They can break and make kings.'

And all of them were now mine to command.

It had been contemptuously easy to take over. A single [Bend Will] shout on the Black Widows' master, Dreykov, was enough for him to transfer the Black Widows' leashes to me. Then I chucked him in cryo suspension just in case I needed his brains again.

"A fine addition to my collection." I mused out loud, my dragonbone-clad Dovahkhin form pacing in front of the newest addition to my forces. A platoon of very attractive and very deadly Black Widows lined up in a neat rectangular formation. Sultry blondes, demure brunettes, raven-haired beauties and lusty redheads. Tanned tomboys, pale and slender dolls, dusky-skinned temptresses and dark-skinned honeys. Of course, these were just the Black Widows currently on the base. There were hundreds more in the field at the moment, and all of them were just as hot as the ones standing before me.

"My, my. Don't they look obedient…" Lorelei wondered out loud as she stepped up beside me. The busty redheaded Asgardian was looking ravishing in her green gown that had a sinfully-thin fabric. "But how loyal are they exactly, Hev?"

My blood red eyes glanced at Lorelei for a moment before swivelling back towards the assembled Black Widows.

"Strip down, all of you." I barked out the command and immediately, almost as one, they complied. Slipping out of those skin-tight black catsuits, their perfectly conditioned bodies were put on display- a parade of creamy skin, toned muscle, bare breasts and uncovered womanhoods.

"You." I pointed out to a generously busty blonde standing naked in the front of the line. "Take your gun and shoot the Widow to your left on the head."

And without even a second of hesitation, the blonde Black Widow picked up her gun off the floor, pointed to the other's temple and fired. The loud bang of her gun echoed throughout the Red Room's command centre, and the blonde's eyebrows raised in confusion as to why the other Black Widow was completely unharmed.

"That will be all. Back into formation, Black Widow." my deep voice rumbled out as I flicked the crumpled bullet off my dragonbone-plated palm. And as ordered, the blonde fell back in line to await further orders with an enticing jiggle of her hefty breasts.

"Oh, they will make excellent handmaidens!" the Asgardian exclaimed- clapping with a satisfied smile.

"Their current brainwashing is flawed however." I pointed out, "Too susceptible to being undone. Something that I'll have to rework in parallel to Project Fortnite… Nonetheless, if you perform well on these tasks, Lorelei, I'll give you an army of them later on."

"Then I'm eager to receive my first task." the busty redhead saluted with a sultry smirk, and I nodded- gesturing to her to follow me through a nearby door. My personal Enchanting room came into view.

"You'll be an instructor of the Black Widows' refresher course." I dictated as I began enchanting some Hevnokrenite keys on the Enchanting Table, "An Instructor responsible for teaching them 'seduction-assassination' or as more commonly known as 'Cockteasing with a not-so-happy-ending.'"

"An instructor?" Lorelei giggled. "Is there another?"

"Yoruichi, our local shinigami-kunoichi catgirl." I immediately answered- pouring myself a drink, "Whenever she's done with training sessions here on Sakaar, she will be working alongside you as the close-combat instructor for the Black Widows."

"Wait… here on Sakaar?" She mentioned- looking around and only just now realising that we were no longer on Earth, but in my private Enchanting workshop on Sakaar.

"That door we walked through was actually a portal." I revealed to her as I walked over to the doorway we had just walked through. "With Johanna filling in the last pieces, I was able to make advancements in utilising the Space Stone. Portal Magitechnology is now our newest addition to our growing arsenal. Allow me to demonstrate."

My dragonbone-plated hand slipped the Hevnokrenite key into the door's lock.

"Sakaar, Favonius Knights HQ, Jean's Office." My deep voice gruffly commanded before I swung the door open to reveal the familiar sight of Jean's office. European renaissance interior design was married with sci-fi as a hundred holographic displays hovered in the air. And in the centre of all the softly glowing displays was a familiar shapely pony-tailed blonde who was noting their contents.

"Hev? Lorelei?" A confused Jean greeted us, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Nothing, just checking up on you. Have a good day, Jean." I answered before shutting the door. I gave another twist of the Hevnokrenite key in the door's lock before once again commanding, "Planet C-199, Command Centre of the Sakaarian Forward Operating Base."

Swinging the door open again, Lorelei and I were greeted with the sight of almost pure chaos. Distant explosions and gunfire echoed through the air. Armoured Sakaarians ran around the cramped metal room hauling crates of guns and explosives, shouting orders through command consoles and there was even a small candlelit shrine dedicated to Johanna, Klee and I in the corner.

"This is the latest raid that's ongoing as you can plainly see." I informed Lorelei as she tried to comprehend how the door had gone from opening to Jean's office to a location on a whole different planet.

"Who goes the- My God Hevnokren!" a muscled insectoid Sakaarian commander immediately fell to its knees as his insect-like compound eyes caught sight of me. "Everyone, kneel! Our prayers have been answered!"

And immediately, every Sakaarian in the command centre stopped what they were doing to kneel before me. It was a good sight. So, I decided to reward them.

"MID VUR SHAAN!"

(Loyal, Valor, Inspire)

"AHAAHAHA! OUR GOD HAS BLESSED US IN MIGHT AND IN RIGHT!" the Sakaarian commander victoriously proclaimed to his subordinates who were also shaking with incredible power, "RAPE, KILL, PILLAGE!"

"Keep up the good work." I said simply as every Sakaarian Raider on the planet was shivered from the cosmic

power that now pushed their bodies to a step beyond what ordinary mortals should be capable of. Lightning quick reflexes and reaction times along with the strength and speed to put it to good use. It was going to be a slaughter. Smiling, I shut the door and let them continue on with our usual business. The door clicked shut, the sounds of battle immediately cut off and I gave the key one last twist.

"Earth, The Red Room Command Centre." I dictated to the door before opening it. And the door swung open to reveal the lovely view of the assembled Black Widows still standing at attention while completely naked. Placing a hand on her shapely ass, I guided the now dumbstruck Lorelei through the door so that we're truly back on Earth.

"You can have ten of these [Escape Keys]." I informed her- pushing a key ring into her hands, "Yoruichi will have another ten. These keys will be limited to select locations on earth so distribute them to Black widows who you think will make best use of them. But try not to reveal their existence to everyone regardless."

"May I have one that is not limited?" Lorelei immediately asked- pushing her braless DD-cup breasts against my arm as she pleadingly batted her eyelashes at me.

"Your ring already acts as one." I pointed out, and the redhead glanced at the ring around her finger. "Coordinate with Yoruichi for any objectives that I assign to you and the Black Widows. Just holler if you need anything else. We have practically unlimited raw materials, but I can have the warfactories in Sakaar rush-build things if it is truly urgent"

"Very well." Lorelei nodded dumbly- still in a daze at the sudden amount of power she had over global affairs. "Are there any objectives that you wish for us to complete?"

"I need IDs, documents and paper trails for positions of wealth and power." I enumerated- already knowing what I needed, "Preferably ones that don't require me to be publicly seen. Land and property development would be best, because I plan to open some casino resort locations in a few places on Earth, particularly in the US. Speaking of which, have a Black Widow Kill Team ready around Manhattan. Klee's first day of school is today, and I swear if anyone makes her cry, this entire world will pay."

Lorelei looked at me with an intrigued expression- still pressing her thinly-clothed front to my side.

"You piqued my curiosity…" Lorelei admitted- idly tracing little patterns on my chestpiece with her fingertip, "You have an entire galaxy and yet you're focused on Midgard."

There was a really good reason why I was focused on Earth, and it wasn't just because it was my cache of husbandos and waifus. Even with all six Infinity Stones, I was lacking something important, which was where Project Dragon Tower came in. But sadly for her, I wasn't about to share the details of Project Dragon Tower. It was top secret after all, which meant only I knew what Earth was really for.

"Yes, there is a reason." I said simply, and when it was apparent that I wasn't sharing anymore, Lorelei just laughed in that musical voice of hers.

"Oh very well~" Lorelei tittered- continuing to smile at me lustily, "Men are more attractive when they're being mysterious after all. Also, I'm surprised you aren't going to order them to serve you sexually."

She gave a glance to the platoon of fit Black Widows still assembled before us. Each and every single one of them stripped naked and still standing at attention. Ready to do whatever I asked of them.

"Priorities." My deep voice rumbled, "I have a long list of women here in the MCU that I intend to claim. Furthermore, I already have plans to pound my Samus Aran-look alike R&D chief into her long overdue orgasm-induced coma in just a few minutes."

Yes… Johanna has gone far too long without the hours-long bedroom marathon that I usually put my waifu through. Because fucking a girl until she was a quivering, whimpering mess with a belly full of semen was a good start at make her loyal.

"Lucky girl." Lorelei giggled with a genuine smile as I pulled away to portal back to Sakaar.

"But before that, I need to order the factories to assemble some daily Wishes."

A certain Black Widow should thank me for this.

[The Mojave Desert - Nevada, USA] (A few hours later)

Her name was Natalia Alianovna "Natasha" Romanoff, and this was going to be her toughest infiltration mission yet.

"You can do this, Natalia." She coached to herself- taking a deep breath, "Being pregnant isn't going to stop you."

She knew the target location like the back of her hand by now: a large military compound complete with airfields, mid-rise buildings, and garages full of armoured vehicles in the middle of the desert. All with an absurd amount of traffic for something so remote. A constant flow of trucks carried weapons, munitions and other military hardware from the compound. That should have meant that it was a production plant of some sort. But the fact that they weren't any shipments of steel or circuitry or any other components going into the compound made it suspicious. How were they making guns and vehicles out of thin air? That was definitely something worth looking into.

And that was where she came in.

In her signature black catsuit, Natasha rode her black sedan up to the security checkpoint, lowered her window and calmly showed her ID to the gate guard in full tactical gear. The guard gave it a single glance before nodding and raising the barrier for her to pass. The ID was only enough to get her through the perimeter, it wasn't going to work when she was inside any of the buildings.

Parking her car right outside the largest concrete structure, she calmly walked inside the complex. And it was a hive of activity inside. The military personnel in fatigues, the scientists in labcoats, the security guards in black… they all didn't give her a second glance as she simply acted like she was supposed to be here. Good for her. Now all she had to do the was get to

"Hey, you're not supposed to be here!" a man's voice barked out from behind her, and Natasha freezed up. She'd been caught, and there was no escaping now that she had been spotted. She was in deep trouble now. And yet, she couldn't help but smile as she turned around to face the man.

"Agent Romanoff," Clint Barton did his best to sound unimpressed while trying and failing to hold back his own smile, "If I recall correctly, the director explicitly ordered you to be away on maternity leave. Infiltrating SHIELD's latest top secret facility to sneak a few more hours of work definitely counts as going against those orders."

Turning around, she couldn't help but smile as she faced her old partner again. Same old spiky blond hair, same old black jumpsuit, same old relaxed pose, same old Clint. After all these crazy changes in her life brought about by her pregnancy, it was a relief to see something not change.

"It's good to see you too, 'Agent Hawkeye.'" Natasha greeted back and meant it. She was grateful that it was her old partner that ran into her instead of anyone else, "I didn't expect to see you here, and- wait… have you grown taller?"

Clint just shot a mysterious smile at her.

"Well, seeing as I'm the one who ran into SHIELD's favourite new top secret project. The director figured that I should come along." he nonchalantly recounted to her, "Also, my growing taller has something to do with that too. Still, it's good to see you again, Nat."

They shared a brief hug. And she couldn't help but notice that he was noticeably more careful with her belly than before. A slight pout grew on her lips.

"Clint, I'm fine." Natasha chastised as she looked him in the eye, "I'm not even a month into my pregnancy, and I'd rather be here while I still can- SHIELD bases are practically my home."

"You consider this place to be your home?" Clint clarified with an incredulous but amused smirk as he folded his arms over his chest, "Was that secure, fully-furnished apartment in Las Vegas that SHIELD provided to you not your style? I'd have killed for a place like that when I was freezing my nose off on top of that cell tower in Texas. And I got to say, the Nevada desert is a welcome change to that super-blizzard."

"It wasn't secure." she countered. And to prove her point, she dug into her small backpack to pull out a shiny metal ingot in a plastic ziplock bag, "I woke up this morning to find another ingot of Vibranium delivered to my door. Nothing on the surveillance footage either, likely hacked or this ingot just appeared out of thin air on my doorstep."

Clint glanced at her with a concerned look before accepting the ingot and looking it over.

"You could have just called and SHIELD would happily take that $80 million dollar ingot out of your hands." Clint whistled in appreciation as he held the Vibranium ingot in his hand.

"It's not like SHIELD needs the money…" Natasha scoffed- fixing a serious stare at Clint, "I happened to notice that this base has been shipping out a lot of hardware, but not importing any raw materials. Care to fill me in on how SHIELD has been making things appear from thin air?"

But instead of answering, Clint only shot her a sly grin which only grew wider. The ass.

"That's highly classified information you're asking for, agent." He teased in a faux-serious voice and Natasha rolled her eye at how much he was enjoying this, "I don't think someone on maternity leave is authorised to-"

"I'm not afraid to use this." She brought up one of her taser discs- already crackling slightly.

"Oh, fine." He guffawed with a laugh before walking past her, "Come on, I think it'll be easier if you saw it yourself though. Director Fury is personally… overseeing operations."

They walked down the corridors to reach a massive hangar that could comfortably house the largest commercial airline planes on earth. The arching ceiling about 10-stories-tall, and a space of a football field. And in stark contrast with the SHIELD personnel in their black tactical outfits, the floor was neatly painted with a glossy grey, the walls and ceiling were painted cream. But the hangar itself wasn't anything special, no.

What was special was the contents of the hangar that the personnel were moving around with forklifts.

All around the expansive hangar were stacks of wooden crates, several above-ground hot tubs, gun racks full stocked with brand new rifles, expensive sports cars, some posh couches, armoured humvees, two M1 Abrams main battle tank, and an F-35 stealth combat jet. And Natasha thought that the mix of ordinary items with military hardware made the hangar look like some military dictator was having a garage sale.

"Is this a SHIELD storage facility?" Natasha muttered- her green eyes taking stock of the wide array of civilian and military items that filled the hanger, "I didn't see any cargo planes drop these items off."

"That's because they weren't brought here, Nat." Clint answered as he led her towards the centre of the hangar. And there, sitting in an above-ground hot tub was the current Director of SHIELD: Nick Fury himself.

Shirtless but with his black leather eyepatch on as he soaked in the warm, bubbling waters of the hot tub… and looked like he was enjoying himself. To the director's right sat a big, muscled blond man who was equally shirtless and sported a cowboy hat as he sipped from his beer bottle. And to the director's left was what looked to be a snowy-haired five-year-old child who wore a Japanese school swimsuit, her mouth was in a constant sigh of "Ah~" as she soaked in the warm water of the hot tub.

Natasha must have had a gobsmacked look to her face, because Clint only chuckled to himself.

"Give me another pull!" Natasha heard Directory Fury's excited shout echo across the hangar, "Come on, baby. Daddy Nick is making a [Wish] upon a star for another F-35!"

"Bwuh… Paimon is so comfy~" The snowy-haired girl sitting next to Fury murmured before languidly raised her thin arms up to point her palms to the ceiling. And as if in response to the girl's hand gesture… a massive tear opened up in the air above them all and revealed what Natasha could only describe to be the heavens themselves: An endless blue sky speckled with twinkling stars and shining constellations, the fluffy white clouds parted from the heavens and a great shooting star shot straight down onto the hangar ground- engulfing the entire hangar with warm golden light.

Both Natasha and Clint shielded their eyes for a moment as the light died down, and at the centre of the hangar was…

"Three stars! F-35 stealth multirole combat aircraft! HELL YEAH!" the director shouted out in celebration, "That's what I'm talking about!"

"Fortune favours you, Fury!" the cowboy cheered, raising his beer in congratulations.

"Yay! Nicky is lucky today!" the little girl cheered as well.

"Thank you, thank you." Fury bowed grateful like the conductor of an orchestra finishing his performance. Because, right there where the star landed was an F-35 that certainly wasn't there before. Fully furnished with bombs and even painted with jaws and angry eyes. And Natasha's mind boggled at that. Did that girl just grant Director Fury's wish? Natasha stared curiously at the three fist-sized motes of light hovered over the plane before disappearing.

"As you can see, the director is really getting into the spirit of that Las Vegas gambling." Clint muttered as an aside to her before stepping up beside the hot tub, "Director Fury, Agent Romanoff is here. Even has another Vibranium ingot."

"Ah, Clint Barton!" the cowboy waved at Clint with a bright smile, "Join us. The water in this bath is splendid!"

"Barty's here?!" the little white-haired girl shouted in surprise- her purple onyx eyes locking onto Clint before waving at him excitedly, "Yeah, Barty, join us with Nicky!"

And Natasha almost broke out in an unprofessional laugh as Director Fury, their commanding officer in just his swim trunks, aimed a look at Clint that all but said 'Don't even think of getting in this hot tub with me, Agent.' A look that Clint thankfully understood.

"Uh… maybe later." Clint waved back apologetically, and Fury nodded approvingly before he glanced at her with his good eye- making her freeze her. Natasha immediately knew that he was annoyed at her for disobeying his orders. But instead of berating her then and there, he turned to look at the cowboy and the little girl.

"Thor, Paimon. I'll be back in fifteen minutes when your [Wish] cools down." He told his fellow hot tub mates, "And I'm pruning up already."

"Can Paimon get another steak?" the little girl sighed relaxed- sinking in the bubbling water up to her neck, "Granting wishes makes me hungry."

"Sure, sure." Fury grunted out as he climbed out of the hot tub, "Someone get this hungry girl another 8 ounce t-bone steak, medium rare. Pronto!"

And immediately, some nearby SHIELD agents hurried to do as ordered like waiters.

"Natasha, why am I not surprised to see you here?" Fury greeted her as he towelled himself and she held back a wince. The Director made sure to greet her by her nickname rather than 'Agent Romanoff.' It was a subtle chastisement to her that she should have been on maternity leave as he had ordered. And she immediately felt the need to defend her case.

"Sir, I'm only a month into my pregnancy, I can still-"

"I have a mission for you, Agent." Fury interrupted in a serious tone as he walked into a standalone dressing room made from stacked wood crates, and closed the curtain.

"I do?" / "She does?" Both she and Clint replied in surprise.

"Definitely." Their director's voice confirmed from inside his dressing room, "SHIELD is stretched thin at this point. We can barely keep up with all our projects that we're pulling people from their comfy desk jobs so that we can have extra pairs of hands. Also, I figured that you wouldn't be able to help yourself. Didn't think you'd take this long though, cuz I have a mission briefing packet with your name on it just collecting dust."

The curtain opened and they saw how Director Fury was once again in his usual all-black outfit complete with his fluttering coat. He glanced at both of them with his lone eye.

"But before that though…" He began, "I'm sure you have some questions about our two new VIPs. So, let me brief you on them. Follow me."

Fury walked past them and both Natasha and Clint followed him to a nearby conference room that overlooked the entire hangar. A projector and a pair of dossiers in folders were already waiting for them on the long table.

"Thor and Paimon." Fury introduced the two- portrait photos of the cowboy and the little girl projected onto the screen, "Agent Barton here had the pleasure of making first contact with them. Even had them come to SHIELD nice and peaceful too. Nice work again on that, Agent, I like it when wrinkles in our ops smooth out easily."

"Thank you, sir." Clint acknowledged, and Fury skipped to the next slide to show the cowboy's details like height, weight, and general description. As well as the two massive revolvers that the cowboy apparently wielded.

"Thor Odinson." Fury introduced, "If you recall your Norse Mythology, he's supposed to be one of the more famous gods in it, and he claims to know most of them. Even going so far as to claim that they visited earth a few centuries ago. With his arrival, we're inclined to give the 'Gods are actually ancient aliens' theory a bit more. Normally, I'd be suspicious as fuck about those kinds of claims. But a random Texan cowboy who the Frost Giant x-rays knew by name, who also knew about this Casket of old-ass winters, who has alien biology that gives him super strength, and who also carries revolvers that shoot lightning bullets? Pretty convincing argument."

Fury flipped to the next slide. The snowy haired little girl, fully dressed in a long-sleeved white jumper, a night-blue cape flecked with stars, and white stockings with white boots. A bright, cheerful smile was on the little girl's face as she waved at the camera, and Natasha's mind couldn't help but briefly imagine how her own child would look like.

"Then there's Paimon, Thor's recent friend." the director's voice uttered- taking on a strange, tense tone, "According to her own account, she used to roll with some magician called Aether before a dragon blew up their home. She's been wandering Earth for a while before she ran into Thor in Texas. And as much as that sounds like Tolkienesque bullshit, I'd like to remind you what you just saw out there. Everything laid out in that hanger was from a [Wish]. Oh, if only she could grant something like world peace, our job would be helluva lot easier."

"Judging from the sheer number of items out in the hangar, Piamon can grant a significant number of these Wishes?" Natasha half-guessed, and the director nodded.

"Yes, Paimon can grant 20 Wishes for material items every 24 hours." he confirmed- sounding like he was really enjoying those 20 Wishes, "She can't control what comes out, because according to her, that's partially up to the wisher. We've been trying to wish for something specific, but some randomness is involved as you can probably guess from the surplus of hot tubs."

"According to Paimon, there are five levels of wishes that can come out." Director Fury before he began enumerating. "1-Star items are your usual shit: Couches, hot tubs, guns, a life-time supply of almonds, a crate full of beer, and perfectly-sized coats. 2-Star items are more expensive crap: sports cars, a crateful of guns, aircraft missiles and bombs, a stack of gold ingots. 3-Star items are even more expensive stuff: We're talking about those F-35s, that M1 Abrams tank, cruise missiles and a diamond the size of my fist. And so far, we've only been able to pull a 4-Star item once."

"What was it, sir?" Natasha asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. And the director smiled as if waiting for that question.

"This eyepatch." He revealed as he tapped the black leather eyepatch with his finger, "Never going to get tired, never going to need sleep ever again. Hell, I'm never going to be even winded from running anymore… all thanks to this magical bad boy. Of course, this is nothing compared to how Thor managed to pull a 5-Star item on his very first try, the lucky bastard. Those revolvers of his could pierce through a metre of reinforced concrete."

And Natasha now knew what a threat the two of them could pose if they ever turned against SHIELD, or even worked against them. So, she had to know…

"Are we sure they're on our side, sir?" Natasha put the question forward.

"They're more than happy to work for us." Fury shrugged, "And thanks to Paimon's Wishes, we have already saved taxpayers over one billion dollars in the past two-three days. But don't take my word for it. The Council has considered it very motherfuckingly important that SHIELD keeps on those two's good sides, especially Paimon's. Fortunately for us, everyone has read the fable about the Goose that lays the Golden Egg, so no one has been astronomically stupid enough to motion for her to be treated anything less than a VIP. So, consider the protection and satisfaction of those two to be a high priority standing order. Understood?"

"Understood, sir." Natasha readily nodded. Orders from the top were orders from the top.

"Good, now we can move on to your mission." Directory Fury concluded before walking off to the side to retrieve a folder from a nearby filing cabinet. "Now, I was going to give you a bogus mission just to get your pregnant ass safe and off our backs for a few months, but…"

And Natasha allowed herself a smug smirk, and finished his thoughts.

"...But the situation has recently changed and you need a good infiltration specialist with a good cover." She reasoned- still wearing that smirk, "A cover where a pregnant woman is actually a perfect fit, and maintaining that cover is far easier when the agent is actually pregnant… I'll take it."

The SHIELD director looked Natasha in the eye before sliding the folder across the table to her so that she could flip through the pages. Clint had that look in his blue eyes that said that he was about to speak up against assigning her a mission; but apparently, Director Fury anticipated that too.

"Settle down, Agent Barton." Fury sighed as he gestured to Clint to sit back down, "It's a light duty, deep cover monitoring assignment. Agent Romanoff's only objective is to observe her targets at a safe distance and send back semi-regular reports. The probability of combat is almost zero, but the mission is still very much important all the same. And somehow, even while pregnant, Agent Romanoff is still somehow the best agent we got for the job."

"Yes, sir…" Clint acknowledged, but not before giving Natasha that concerned look that said he was still unsure of the decision.

"Remember your former 'employer' Tony Stark?" Fury aimed the question at her.

"Yeah." Natasha nodded with a slight fond smile, "Bit of a narcissistic, bit of a drunk, bit of a good guy."

"Sounds like him." Fury agreed with a small snort of amusement at her accurate description. "His Jarvis program managed to sniff out all the bugs you've placed in his computers, but thankfully, not from the computers in the Stark Industries. And that's where we found something interesting. Just the other day, Stark Industries accepted these three 'Argentinian' immigrants into its payroll and applied for their American citizenship: Johanna Schmidt, her adopted daughter Klee, and their bodyguard that goes by the name of Bayonetta. That normally wouldn't raise eyebrows except for two things."

Three portraits that looked like they were taken from passports flicked onto the screen, and like a well-trained Black Widow that she was, Natasha seared their faces into her memory.

"Thing one…" Fury announced as he flipped to a photo of Tony Stark handing a giant check to an immensely grateful school principal, "Mr. Stark has generously donated $5 million dollars to the school where Klee is attending and where Ms. Schmidt and Ms. Bayonetta are going to be teaching at."

"Thing two…" the director listed off as the screen switched to a photo of Ms. Schmidt shaking hands with someone who was on SHIELD's 'Person of Interest' list, "surveillance footage from a nearby CCTV showed Ms. Schmidt acting like old buddies with one Dr. Lucifina Zee. Now, I don't know what Zee has to do with all this, but the Council still very much wants to speak with her, and I'd like to remind you two that we have been ordered to follow every lead that we find."

"Can't we just ask Schmidt about Zee?" Clint suggested instead.

"You were still in Texas when we tried that tactic, Clint." Natasha recounted to him, "The moment we approached Stark and Angela to ask about Zee, she disappeared. It's like she knows just when SHIELD is closing in on her."

"Now, the definition of insanity is repeating the same mistakes over and over again and expecting different results." Fury quoted, "And that's why we're trying a new tactic: We need someone who can watch and listen from a distance without being spotted."

"Me." Natasha answered with a steady nod.

"That's your orders, Agent Romanoff." Fury confirmed, "Settle into your cover identity. Watch Schmidt, but from afar. If Dr. Zee shows up, don't do anything apart from noting down everything you see and hear. Report what you can, when you can. Agent Sitwell will be your handler for this assignment, and he's authorised to give you whatever you need: support, backup or exfil."

"On it, sir." Natasha stood up with the folder in hand, gave a crisp salute to Directory Fury, before turning on her heels and began walking off.

But the Director apparently had one last thing to say to her.

"And Agent Romanoff?" he called out to her just as she was almost out the door, "Enjoy your vacation."

"Thank you, Director Fury." She replied with a smile, and nodded to her old partner as well, "And I'll see you around, Clint."

"Later, Nat." He waved back too.

Maybe this assignment was exactly what she needed during her pregnancy.

[Back inside the conference room]

Clint Barton watched the door shut behind Natasha, leaving him with the Director.

"Sir, you didn't tell her about the Dragon Balls?" Clint questioned.

"That information is on a need-to-know basis only, Agent." Fury reminded him, and Clint noted the weighty, solemn tone in the director's voice like the whole world was riding on Fury's back, "You wouldn't even be on that list if you weren't the one who was chosen by that damn thing. Besides, Agent Romanoff's cover doesn't allow her to be in any position to search for them anyway. She'll be safest there- in the dark."

"Are we really going for the other six, sir?" Clint glanced over his shoulder to look at the metal bow slung on his back. "Paimon said that the Heavenly-dragon-emperor thing will grant a wish, but can we even trust it to keep its end of the bargain if we collect all seven of these 'keys'?"

"It might, or it might not. Doesn't matter either way." the director shrugged with a heavy sigh, "As of right now, only a select few people know about the Star Dragon and the Wish that it's offering. But if or when people find that out… well, let's just say that people have tried to burn the world down before over less compelling reasons. If we go too loud or too careless on this? The whole world's going to erupt into a global free-for-all just for that one world-changing wish. And that's something that SHIELD is hoping to avoid."

Clint could definitely see that happening, but a more concerning question popped up in his mind.

"But even if it does hold its end of the bargain… " he wondered out loud, "Who gets to make the wish? Who decides who can make it anyway? Can we even give that kind of power over the entire human race to one person?"

'Can we trust SHIELD's bosses- the World Security Council- to make that decision for us?' was the unsaid question. Clint knew that this was coming dangerously close to questioning the decisions of the top of command, but he felt that it was a valid concern given that they were talking about the whole of humanity here.

"All valid questions and all above our paygrades, Agent." Fury warned as he stepped closer to him- looking Clint right in the eye, "But no matter how the chips fall, I'm not about to let everything that SHIELD is supposed to protect crumble away. You can count on that. But right now, we have to find the other six bearers before they find us. And for that, we'll need experts to analyse that Dragon Ball."

"We, sir?" Clint clarified as he watched the director move over to the table and pull out some cardboard boxes- his voice echoing out from under the table.

"Agent Coulson is busy establishing the security detail for Thor and Paimon, and the logistics infrastructure to support the constant stream of Wish items." the director elaborated as he hefted the cardboard boxes onto the table, "And no one else on American soil is on the need-to-know list apart from you and me."

"I see…" Clint replied, "Didn't we pick up Dr. Selvig back in New Mexico?"

"He's already assigned to a different project over in the other hangar." Fury clarified, "But he's not enough, we need everyone we can get aboard on this project. We need more physicists… as many eggheads as we can gather in this one basket. The Dragon Balls are so classified that we're supposed to do this in deep shadow conditions, so we can't use any of SHIELD's infrastructure or networks. We'll be heading out incognito to the local Starbucks and doing our research there."

And from the box, Director Fury pulled out a couple of dusty laptops, some untraceable pistols, stacks of cash, fake IDs, fake personal documents and car keys to what Clint suspected to be the only junker car in the SHIELD compound. Couldn't they have taken one of the sports cars from Paimon's Wishes?

"Meet me at parking space #216 at 0350 hours." the director uttered his orders to Clint without even looking at him- too busy with pulling out another box that held the director's own loadout, "Undercover attire, hipster casual. And remember to put your hair into a man-bun this time, agent."

Clint pursed his lips in a brief bout of uncertainty. Spying and research work wasn't his forte, but if this was what it took to keep the world from falling into infighting, he'll do his best. But damn did he dislike the hipster casual attire.

"Roger that, sir." Clint saluted however reluctantly, "Can't imagine that there would be that many world-class physicists that fit the bill, I don't even have any name that comes to mind."

Probably a European sound name like…

[Midtown School of Science and Technology, New York]

"-Ms. Johanna Schmidt!"

Peter Parker watched along with everyone else as their teacher, Roger Harrington, wildly gestured for everyone in the laboratory room to applaud with his frantically faked smile. Honestly, the smile was creeping Peter out, but for his teacher's sake, Peter just clapped along with everyone else.

"Why are we even clapping?" Ned Leeds, his chubby superhero-obsessed friend, whispered to him, "She's German, right? Must be some strict disciplinarian old la-"

Then Ms. Schmidt walked through the doorway, and the clapping slowed down as they actually saw their newest homeroom teacher. Soft blonde hair in a long ponytail, clear blue eyes, a beautiful heart-shaped face, a perfectly tailored black suit that clung to a curvaceous body: Ms. Johanna looked like she belonged modelling on the front cover of Vogue instead of teaching at a high school. It made her Masters in Physics that she earned in Germany harder to believe.

"Good afternoon, class." Her accented but feminine voice greeted them. Her blue eyes sweeping their gaze across the room and even meeting Peter's eyes momentarily. "My name is Johanna Schmidt, and as of today, I will function as your substitute physics teacher."

Then Mr. Harrington, who was standing out of her field of vision, wildly gestured for all of them to respond.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Schmidt!" The whole class chorused with fake smiles just as Mr. Harrington had them rehearse a few minutes before she arrived. "We're glad to have you as our new teacher."

Peter might have been the only one who meant it though. Could have been his spidey-sense, or it could have been just a gut feeling; but there was something in those blue eyes of Ms. Schmidt that told him that she wasn't someone you took lightly. Of course, everyone else saw something different..

"Dude, Ms. Schmidt is smoking hot." Ned once again whispered to him, "You think she got this job because she's Iron Man's side girl like they say? Whole school is still tweeting about that: Tony Stark donates $5 million bucks to our school, and the next day we get a new substitute physics teacher and a head librarian? It's sus, man. I mean just look at how nervous Mr. Harrington is."

Peter looked to the side where Mr. Harrington was being as unobtrusive as possible.

"Okay, everyone," the evidently nervous man called out- wiping his blue handkerchief on his forehead and it came back soaked, "Ms. Schmidt is going to entertain questions now. Keep it civil."

"Yeah, he's nervous and sweating like a pig." Peter whispered back in agreement. "But in his defence, anyone would be like this in his position."

Because when Tony Stark himself donates $5 million bucks to your school on the condition that you take on two new hires, it's pretty obvious that he wants you to treat them well. The school's board of directors must have made it clear that they had to treat the two like royalty if the faculty wanted to see even a single cent of that five million in their paychecks.

"Are you still single?" Some guy in class piped up the blunt question.

"Flash Thompson, for goodness sakes!" Mr. Harrington immediately groaned out loud before facing their newest hire and apologising. "I am so sorry for the behaviour of my students, Ms. Schmidt."

"It was to be expected, Harrington." Ms. Schmidt coolly allayed his concerns… just before an intense stare at the offending student.

"Flash Thompson, that behaviour is flagrantly inappropriate." she coldly uttered to him, "This will be your only warning and the next student to disregard that warning will be made into an example to the rest."

"Yes, ma'am." Flash meekly replied, and there was a tense silence that hovered over the class before Ms. Schmidt gave a slight smile.

"But yes, I am already… involved with someone." Peter heard her divulge to the class- her voice growing softer. And at that answer, Ned- staring directly at Peter- just gestured with his big hands to Ms. Schmidt as if that display proved his point. And Peter only aimed a disbelieving stare back at his friend.

"That doesn't mean that she is involved with Mr. Stark himself." Peter offered an alternate explanation, "She could just be Mr. Stark's cousin or something who is seeing someone else."

But Ned rolled his eyes, he wasn't accepting a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"That would be so normal and boring though." Ned groaned, "Maybe she's an undercover super genius that wants to hide in plain sight? Now that would be way cooler."

"Not everything has to be a comic book plot with Mr. Stark, Ned." Peter whispered back.

"Dude, Tony Stark is Iron Man." Ned argued in a whisper, "Everything he does is a comic book plot- hiring Ms. Schmidt included. I bet she's ex-military or something."

Peter was just about to call his friend out that the real world didn't run on comic book logic, when Mr. Harrington spoke up again.

"Does anyone else have a question for Ms. Schmidt?" He called out. "Preferably appropriate this time."

"I'll prove it, Peter." Ned grinned. "Just watch."

"Wait, Ned. Stop!" Peter hissed back as his friend raised his hand.

"Yes, Leeds?" Mr. Harrington called him up, and everyone's eyes turned to look at him.

"Miss Schmidt, Uh… what was your work like before you went to teach here?" He gulped.

She thought about it for a moment before turning her blue eyes towards him.

"Firstly, avoid saying 'Uh' and "Um." She admonished him in a surprisingly even tone, "It is unprofessional as it reveals that you did not have your thoughts in order before your mouth began moving. But to answer your question… I functioned as the head of Research and Development for a human resources company in a town that the locals called Sakaar. We would frequently recruit manpower from more populated areas and put them to work developing the town. Naturally, this meant that we work with heavy vehicles to transport such large volumes. So, my duties included designing safety equipment for the Sakaarian recruiters and their vehicles."

And all around the classroom, there were mutterings about how their teacher was a former trucker.

"Wait… how familiar are you with heavy vehicles?" Ned spoke up again, his interest clearly piqued. "Did you use to drive them?"

"Oh, boy." Peter muttered under his breath. If there was anything Ned Leeds was obsessed over aside from superheroes and Star Wars, it would be trucks and trucking. Some guys liked fast cars, some liked big SUVs, others liked the big semi-trailers and everything. Ned belonged in the last group. Peter was fully expecting Ms. Schmidt to say 'No' and break Ned's heart.

"Yes." Johanna Schmidt surprisingly nodded, "My previous… work experience before that included steering vehicles around the 25 tonnes range through the breadth of Poland, Luxembourg and France."

Peter didn't figure Ms. Johanna to be a trucker, much less enjoy being one. There was a fondness in her voice as she looked like she was reliving treasured memories. But he guessed that if it was somewhere as scenic as Europe, even trucking could be enjoyable.

"That must have been something!" Ned couldn't help but shout out- already hyperventilating before he leaned towards Peter to whisper excitedly, "She's awesome, Peter. It's like she walked out of Euro Truck Simulator!"

"Now's not the time to geek out about one of your favourite videogames!" Peter berated him- lightly kicking him underneath the table. But that didn't stop Ned from almost vibrating with excitement over his new favourite teacher.

"Yes, it was certainly something." Johanna responded with an unexpectedly melodic laugh.

"Got any stories from those days? What was your proudest moment driving around in France?" Ned peppered her with questions- starved for any accounts from a real life trucker, and Peter had to face palm. But Ms. Schmidt- for whatever reason- decided to indulge Ned's curiosity over truckers and their trucking ways.

"Drunk off the riches gained from our aggressive strategy in Poland, our 'glorious leader' decided we were to make a route that went from Berlin to Paris as fast as possible and exploit the French while they were still unprepared." She recounted, "Almost everything we had sitting in garages all over Germany was gathered for this grand offensive."

"The convoys must have been huuuge." Ned breathed in awe- likely imagining all those semi-trailer trucks gathering in some huge parking lot in Germany.

"Yes, they were." She confirmed with a gentle smile, "Lining the roads like in a parade, engines roaring, flags waving. Everyone moved off the roads just from the sound of our approach. Unfortunately, the idiot-leader was not receptive to feedback to those who were actually operating and driving the machinery, and wanted to push our beautiful pieces of German Engineering past their capabilities."

"He was an unreasonable boss, huh?" Harrington empathised, and Peter watched as their blonde new teacher nodded knowingly.

"Very unreasonable." She commiserated, "More charismatic than intelligent. And for that reason, he was popular with the weak-minded, but as you know, idiots gathered in great enough numbers are always trouble. His pigheadedness also made him a headache to those who wanted to steer him away from unwise strategic decisions."

"I know that feeling." Peter watched Mr. Harrington nod knowingly. "But it couldn't have been all bad… did you know him personally?"

"Personally?" Ms. Schmidt shook her head in exasperation, her blonde ponytail swaying from the motion, "He was infuriatingly insistent with eating vegetarian food, being friendly with the local wildlife, and his damned doughnuts."

"He sounds like a massive hippie." Someone from class couldn't help but scoff. "Honestly, vegetarians, am I right?"

"Hey, don't hate on us vegetarians." another classmate- sounding like Betty Brant- defended herself. "Ms. Schmidt's former boss was just trying to have an animal-friendly lifestyle."

"Can we all just agree that donuts are delicious?" Peter hesitantly tried to mediate the brewing argument. But thankfully, Mr. Harrington handled that for him.

"Alright, settle down, class." He calmed them down, "Let Ms. Schmidt continue with her cross-country trip story."

"Thank you." She nodded to him, "Our ultimate target was Paris of course. However, the French border would have taken too long, so my particular convoy was assigned to burn a trail through Luxembourg and the Ardennes forest."

In her reverie, a fond smile tugged on her soft pink lips.

"I was in command of my own beautiful piece of German engineering, the fourth model in its design iteration- clad in Krupp steel and powered by a Maybach engine. The crew had taken to affectionately calling her 'Adelina'. She drank fuel like it was bier, and purred like a big cat when her engine was idle."

Then Ms. Schmidt's fond smile curled into a smug smirk that sent shivers down the spine of every straight male in class… and a few not-so-straight girls.

"But the look on the French's face as they realised that our convoy was three times their number and bearing down their roads was one that I will treasure forever." She whispered in vicious relish.

Peter himself was also focused on that mental image: A Ms. Schmidt at the helm of one of those semi-trailer trucks as she drove across the French countryside. The shocked face of her rival French truckers as her convoy of trucks outnumbered them, three-to-one.

"But that route was not without its disadvantages, the infrastructure there was not built to sustain such heavy loads. We lost many of our units along the way, mostly from the rough terrain that took its toll on our machines. Despite those setbacks and the French doing everything they could, we were quickly advancing west. So quickly in fact that our direct superiors could barely follow our progress. It had become problematic enough that one of them, let's call him Heinz, personally rode along with us. And if that was not troublesome enough, the French were doing their best to undermine our efforts with their meagre airpower."

"Those air freight companies make me so angry." Ned fumed- heatedly whispering to him so as not to interrupt Ms. Schmidt's story, "Taking the jobs of honest truckers!"

"Settle down, Ned." Peter sighed.

"That did little to actually stop our convoys. One of our convoys managed to cross the Meuse River far ahead of schedule and arrived in Paris before the French could properly react. And seeing that we had reached Paris with more convoys to come, they- in true French fashion…"

"They surrendered?!" Ned half-shouted and half-laughed. And there were some scattered chuckles.

"Yes, as Frenchmen are wont to do." their blonde new teacher gave that smirk again, "France fell under our control then, and we absorbed all of their assets. However…"

Ms. Schmidt's voice adopted a bittersweet tone.

"...that was also the last time I drove Adelina."

"What?" Ned blurted out loud.

"I had distinguished myself during the operation and was rightfully promoted. Many of us were." She explained, "It was ironic then that I was recruited into the R&D division due to my masters in Physics and that spelled the end of my career on the frontlines."

"Well, at least we know she isn't ex-military, she's way cooler than that: She's a trucker!" Ned whispered to Peter who could only nod in agreement. "Man, am I glad that I was wrong about her. That was the most exciting account of European trucking I've ever heard."

"If she can teach as good as she can tell stories, physics is going to be an easy subject." Peter added his two-cents.

"And that's all we have time for." Mr. Harrington announced, "Let's give Ms. Schmidt a round of applause for joining our 'family' here in Midtown School of Science and Technology!"

The round of applause was a lot more sincere now.

"My daughter will be joining you for your next class in chemistry, please treat her kindly." Ms. Schmidt mentioned to them. "She will be able to perform academically at the same league as you, regardless of how she looks or acts… With that said, I will see you all in your physics class."

And just like that, their newest teacher marched out of the classroom.

"If her daughter is even half as hot as her…" Peter heard Flash whisper out loud the moment Ms. Schmidt was out of the room.

"Ugh… leave the new girl alone, Flash." Betty Brant groaned in response, and a few other girls in class echoed the sentiment.

"You think she's a superhero fan too? Maybe a Star Wars fan?" Ned speculated excitedly, "They have Star Wars in Germany too, right?"

"I bet she's tall and blonde like Ms. Schmidt." Peter heard Betty Brant gossip to her friends.

But despite everyone having their own mental image of how the Ms. Schmidt's daughter would look like, no one would have ever expected a little girl who looked like she couldn't be any older than five to skip into class.

"Klee is here!" She announced- raising her arms above her head as if to go 'Tada!' She beamed a million-watt smile at them and everyone in class simultaneously clutched their hearts from the sheer cuteness.

"Aaaaawwwwwww!" "She's soooo cute!" "Eeee!"

"Everyone, this is Klee. She's Midtown's first ever child genius. Go on and introduce yourself, honey." Mr. Harrington in a sugary voice- clearly driven crazy from Klee's adorableness, and no one in class could blame him one bit. From her red coat, to her red pageboy cap with a feather sticking out, to her tiny brown gloves and booties.

"My name is Klee and I'm suuuper glad to be here!" She burbled with a bright smile, "All of my friends in Sakaar were grownups so I wanted to go to school and make lotsa friends like Lila said. Can we be friends?"

And the whole class erupted in cheers and cooing, but over the din, one voice stood out with a question.

"Why do you call your mom as Johanna?" Flash immediately called out.

"Johanna is my mom until Mama and Papa come back from their trip around the world!" Klee enthused with a bright, happy smile.

And everyone seemed to know what was up then. This was New York after all. 'Your daddy is going around the world' was the sort of line a single mother would tell her kid when her dad goes out to buy some milk and never comes back. But having both parents go out to buy some milk? That was some rough stuff. And everyone knew to keep quiet about it.

…Except for Flash who was the class rich kid, of course. And even Mr. Harrington realised the train wreck that was about to happen, the older teacher was making frantic gesture for Flash to stop his line of questioning, but unfortunately, that didn't stop him.

"Cool, how long have they been going and when are they coming back?" Flash- in true Flash Thompson fashion- asked before his mind could realise what he just said. And the class went really silent.

"They're-!" She began with a big smile, but stopped short. And everyone knew that Klee herself didn't know the answer. Her smile faltered before her bright red eyes flickered with doubt.

"Kl- I don't know when they're coming back." Klee muttered as if she had only thought about it now, "They've… been gone for so long."

Her small voice cracked with grief near the end- nothing but a pained rasp.

"Flash, you impulsive diot." Peter grunted under his breath- tempted to web up Flash's mouth here and now. And worse still, was that Klee looked like she was about to cry, and Peter clutched his head in pain. His spidey-sense was tingling like the entire world was going on the verge of exploding. Like there was something massive watching earth right that very moment, and Peter just knew in his gut that if Klee shed that first tear, everything was going to end violently. Every part of him was screaming for him to cheer her up. NOW.

"Do you like Johanna?!" Peter shouted at the top of his lungs- making everyone in class jump in their seats, but more importantly, distracted the almost crying girl.

"Eh? Johanna?" Klee blurted out- caught off-guard as well. But to everyone's relief, she began grinning again, "Johanna is the best! She helps me with everything and her fish schnitzel is delicious!"

"Alright, Klee." Mr. Harrington smiled, "Why don't you take a seat beside Ms. Tombes while Mr. Thompson and I talk outside."

And with that, he dragged a guilty-looking Flash Thompson out for a good earful of it.

"Nice save, Parker." Betty Brant whispered to him, and the whole class seemed to share the sentiment as they looked at him with nodding heads and approving eyes. And Peter couldn't help but smile, he didn't do it for the recognition but it was still a nice feeling.

"Dude, you okay?" Ned whispered to him- a reassuring hand on Peter's back, "You looked like your head really hurt just now."

"It was nothing, man. Just felt dizzy for a sec there." He reassured Ned, but he couldn't help but wonder that himself.

Why did his spidey-sense go crazy like that?

Maybe he just really wanted to keep a cheerful little girl like Klee from crying? He was still learning new things about his powers from time to time ever since he got it a few months back. But both Ms. Schmidt and Klee tripped his spidey-sense… that couldn't be just a coincidence, could it?

Maybe he should talk with Ms. Schmidt, just to be sure…

(New York, USA)

"Even New York has left me behind." Steve Rogers sighed as he sat on a bench in Manhattan's Central Park.

This was his neighbourhood once- the same street where he grew up with his mother- and yet, all around him were buildings that he did not recognise. And it sent bittersweet pinpricks at his heart. The Hydra Parasit had done its job and held together long enough to fly him back to the USA. He had managed to not so gently land it at the outskirts of the city without damaging anything apart from some trees. But he wasn't ready for the America that he had found.

It didn't take him long at all to realise that something was wrong. People dressed strangely, there wasn't a model of car on the streets that he recognised and everyone was walking around using those handheld radios with tv screens on them. He must have been gawking because people weren't too friendly, though some complimented him on his 'Captain America cosplay.' It had left all too confused until a kindly homeless veteran recognised him- one of the many soldiers he had saved during the war- and filled him in on the details. And even now, he was still reeling from the revelation that it has been more than 65 years since he was gone- sleeping frozen in the ice. And all the while, the world had continued to turn without him.

He had hoped that his and his mother's old apartment was supposed to be. But the red brick apartment building was apparently demolished and a big glass store for a phone was constructed in its place, and that was the last straw for him: he had been wandering Manhattan in a daze for hours now and the sun was going down- painting the sky in water colours of orange and peach.

"At least the Manhattan sunset hasn't changed." He muttered to himself with a deep sigh.

A big part of him was at least relieved that America had won the war, but not the part that was Steve Rogers. No, that unlucky son of a gun lost his war: The America he fought for was more than half a century away now… along with everyone and everything he ever knew. No friends, no home, and no money. Only he was left.

"I should have brought MREs along with me." He muttered to himself, feeling hungry.

If he had known that he'd be in this situation, he would have brought a few dollars with him when he raided that Hydra HQ. The only upside his current situation had over being in Germany was no one was shooting at him. But at this point, he'd take a few Hydra troopers shooting at him if it meant the Howling Commandos were somewhere nearby.

Steve had tried to report back at a police station, but they only laughed him away. It was surprisingly hard to prove his identity when everything could just be passed off with a condescending 'Just because you're strong or fast doesn't mean your Captain America, son. But, nice costume anyway.' He didn't feel tired, but he still needed to find someplace to stay sooner or later. Maybe a homeless shelter somewhere. At least, that was what he was planning to do…

…until a tiny hand extended a hotdog in a bun up to him.

"Want a chilidog, Mister? You look sad and hungry." A little five-year-old girl in a red coat and pageboy cap offered it to him. Big bright red eyes looked up at him expectantly.

"It's alright, kid." He smiled back- refusing the proffered hotdog in a bun. "Eat it yourself. You don't know when's the next time you'll be able to have a hotdog after all. Like me."

"But Klee does!" The little girl protested as she pushed the hotdog closer to his face as if she wasn't sure he saw it, "The hotdog man said that it's going to take ten more minutes before he can cook all twenty hotdogs."

"Your name is Klee, huh?" He smiled at the excitable kid as she took a big bite out of the hotdog in her other hand. "I'm Steve Rogers, people used to call me Captain America."

"You're a knight captain like Kaeya and Albedo too?!" She exclaimed in surprise.

"I'm a different kind of captain." Steve gently corrected her. He didn't know who Kaeya or Albedo was, but he was sure it was from some broadway show or something. "I lead soldiers, not knights."

"Wow~!" Klee didn't even hide her honest expression of awe. Steve always liked how easily impressed kids were. When he was still performing those broadway shows to raise war bonds, it was the children who got the most invested in his performances. It never failed to make his heart feel warm seeing those expressions. Seeing Klee make that same expression told him that maybe the America he fought for was still here.

His hand found the top of her head before he even realised- gently patting her.

"Hey, Klee. Why is the hotdog man cooking so many hotdogs for you?" He asked her, "Are you having a little shindig with your friends?"

"I'm with Johanna!" She chirped back with a wide grin.

"Is she your friend?" He asked, and she actually looked unsure for a moment- thinking it over.

"Um… Johanna is Klee's mom until Mama and Papa come back from travelling around the world!" She smiled. And Steve had to hold back a wince. 'Travelling the world.' It looks like they were still telling kids who lost their parents that. But at least, she apparently found a new household willing to take her in. He hadn't been as lucky when he lost both his parents, and it only made him respect those who willingly adopt children.

"So… Johanna was taking you out for hotdogs." He smiled, having gained a newfound sympathy for the cheery kid.

"Mhm!" Klee grinned brightly, "I tried one at school, but they only gave me one so I asked Johanna if we could have some more and she said yes! If you're not sure if you can have a hotdog then we can ask Johanna. She told me that If I'm not sure of something, I can ask her. She's over by the hotdog man, c'mon!"

Klee's tiny hand tugged on his much larger one as she hopped in place. But just as Steve was about to point out the flaw in her logic, he noticed that it was about to be dark out soon, and leaving Klee to find her way back to her mother on her own didn't sit well with him.

"Alright, let's go see your mom." He acquiesced with a smile as he stood up from the park bench.

"Yipee!" Klee shouted in joy, renewing her tugging on his hand, and this time, he allowed her to lead him down Central Park's winding walkways. The lamp posts turned on as the evening loomed over the city- illuminating the concrete path as Steve kept up with Klee who was giggling excitedly. Eventually, they reached a parked food truck with some tables still set out where some hungry New Yorkers were having their early hotdog dinners.

Sitting among them was a pretty blonde dame in a crisp black suit with her back towards them. Couldn't have been any older than her early twenties, and Steve would not have thought her to be Klee's mother if the adorable kid's face hadn't lit up at the sight of her. And he walked on over to her with Klee in hand.

"Will you finally divulge the true reason why you have Klee and I stay here?..." Steve overhead her say into that 'cellphone' invention, "...Certainly not, New York is far from my first choice of cities to live in considering I had been mere minutes away from-"

"Johanna!" Klee cheered as she tugged the blonde's arm, "Can Steve have a hotdog, please?"

"Yes, meine liebling." Her mother absentmindedly replied while stroking Klee's cheek, "Just remember to-"

Whatever the blonde was about to say died in her throat as her clear blue eyes spotted him- widening in shock the moment she spotted him.

"Captain America!" She gave an admittedly cute yelp as she jumped slightly in her chair.

"In the flesh, ma'am." He gave his most reassuring smile, "Sorry to startle you, it was getting dark and it didn't feel right to let your daughter walk around without some supervision. And call me Steve. Steve Rogers."

He extended a hand to her for a shake… and she stared at it like his hand was coated in poison. It was slightly worrying to be honest, but thankfully, this Johanna calmed down and shook hands with him.

"Johanna Schmidt." the blonde introduced herself- her clear blue eyes looking straight into his. "How…? It has been almost 70 years and yet you still look as youthful as you did in 1945."

Was she a fan of his? Must have watched old films about him from her parents or something. Johanna Schmidt looked like she couldn't be older than her early twenties.

"I was frozen in arctic ice…" He explained, "I only thawed a couple of days ago and found my way back now."

"So, Steve can have a hotdog, right?" Klee butted in- already having started on that hotdog stack like she was at an eating contest. "He's pretty hungry, and he said that he hasn't eaten a hotdog in a long time!"

"Why would you… " Klee's mother muttered softly as she looked at him with a curious expression. He was about to explain his situation too, but her soft 'Oh' of realisation told him that she had figured it out.

"You have only just arrived back in America…" Johanna concluded correctly. "And I can imagine that your identity has been a challenge to prove to authorities. So now you have found yourself without property or money."

"Are you a detective, Miss?" He quipped- making the corners of her pink lips tug in a slight smile.

"A physics teacher." She answered before taking a momentary glance at Klee before looking back to him, "You require a place to stay for a while, Captain? We have some vacant guest rooms at the loft."

"Ma'am, It's kind of you to offer, but I don't want to impose." He passed the offer despite knowing that he might need it.

"It is no trouble at all." She reassured him. "The loft is already too large for the three of us, and we have routine cleanings from cleaning services."

"That's awfully generous of you…" Steve stated. She didn't seem like she was a starstruck sort of person, but she was still offering him a place to stay.

"I am an admirer of your accomplishments if nothing else." She began- her voice taking on a laser focused edge, "Furthermore, I am intrigued as to how you are receiving the America- the world- that you find yourself in now, Captain. After almost seventy years, you find yourself thrust into a situation that you could have imagined would come to pass… and though the thought of the Captain America being homeless can be amusing to some, I am more interested in what you believe now in the face of an America that has left your ideals behind."

And Steve was really unsure about this. The way she spoke made him slightly uncomfortable. It was a particular German accent that reminded him of the Red Skull- right down to the focused choice of words. But Steve Rogers knew that would be unfair to her. World War II was almost 65 years ago now, and the Red Skull was gone- vapourized by the same superweapon that the mad scientist had tried so hard to harness for world domination. But for him, that was just a few days ago.

"Whait! Shteve ish shtaying with ush?!" Klee gasped with her mouth full of hotdogs- ketchup and mustard all over her face.

"Klee, don't talk with your mouth full." Johanna gently admonished while taking a napkin and wiping her daughter's cheeks, and that's when Steve noticed something on Johanna's hand.

"Would your husband mind?" He asked- gesturing to that ring of gleaming metal around her ring finger.

"Oh, he isn't my husband!" Johanna muttered a bit too quickly- blushing up a storm as she fiddled with her ring. And Steve couldn't help but give a smirk as he was able to read between the lines. 'He isn't my husband yet.' was what she gave off. Most likely her fiancé then.

"But he would not be bothered." She huffed- quickly regaining her composure. "If anything, he would be incredibly amused by this situation, and insist that you stay a few nights."

"Hev finds a lot of things funny!" Klee chimed in with a smile, and Steve nodded at that new tidbit of information

Ah, so that was the name of Johanna's fiance: 'Hev.' It didn't sound Eastern European… maybe Norwegian? Steve didn't know much except French, German and a bit of Dutch thanks to the battlefields he'd marched across.

"Yes, he certainly does find things 'funny.'" Johanna agreed with an exasperated sigh. "Usually at my expense."

"Boys tease girls they like." Steve reassured her. "Your fiance's a lucky man."

"Hev is- Ugh." Johanna started to protest, but gave up part way- the light dusting of a blush on her cheeks. "Yes, he is certainly a lucky man."

And Steve couldn't but chuckle softly, her husband-to-be sounded like an easy-going fellow. A counterbalance to Ms. Johanna's serious and intense disposition, but out of everything, Steve found it charming how she's still acting shy about her engagement. It was a stark contrast to her normal way of talking, and it made him feel unreasonable for being uncomfortable with the way she spoke. Not everyone who had that accent was secretly the Red Skull.

"If it will lighten your conscience, consider it as a trade." Johanna proposed, "I only ask for a small interview over coffee everyday in exchange for hot food, a warm bed, and some spending money."

"And hotdogs!" Klee added- raising her remaining hotdogs to both of them.

"Yes, and hotdogs too if you prefer." Johanna agreed with a small laugh- raising her hotdog to Steve as if proposing a toast, "Do we have an accord, Capt- I mean- Steve?"

"Well, a warm bed sounds nice after spending decades sleeping in ice." He admitted- finally accepting Klee's proffered hotdog and 'toasting' it against Klee's and Johanna's. "It's a deal."

"Yipee!" Klee cheered before immediately taking a large chomp out of her hotdog.

Steve watched as Johanna took a bite out of hers with an amused smile as well. And as he took a bite out of his own hotdog, he was glad that the recipe hasn't changed much from his era. The tang of the mustard, the sweetness of the ketchup and the soft juicy hotdog reminded him- more than anything else that…

Yes, he really was back home in the good ole US of A. And it was exactly the kind of reminder he needed.

After so many years spent on the frontlines in Europe, this weary soldier's heart in him has finally come back home, and it was a bittersweet affair. It will take time for him to sort his feelings over his current situation. There was a lot to unpack and sort through, however he was a soldier- carrying on was what they did best. Because if there was a silver lining, it would be that they finally won.

"I still have some work to do back in the loft." Johanna mentioned as she gracefully stood up- rolling up her sleeve and glancing at her wristwatch.

"Klee has this thing called homework too!" The excitable little girl in red cheered as she fell in step with her mother- her leather backpack with its fluffy stuffed toy bobbing and swaying, possibly the only kid in America who was utterly excited by homework.

"I must confess…" Johanna said as an aside- giving him a hospitable smile. "I am not as fond of New York as others are, however I can say with confidence that you will like the view of Manhattan Island from the loft."

His mission was finally complete: Both Hydra and the Red Skull were gone- buried under the decades that he had slept through. And with their defeat…

"Thanks, Johanna." Steve almost forgot to tell the woman.

…It had allowed America to flourish, and allowed good people like Johanna to live their lives free.

"Think nothing of it, Steve." the blonde smiled graciously.

And he felt like everything was going to be alright.

[Sakaar]

The message on my Company Smartphone was highly unexpected.

++ C ++

Dear Mr. Hevnokren,

We at the Company hope that you are in good health and are satisfied with the perks and services granted to you as a Company Contractor.

However, if we may cut straight to heart of the matter, the Company has noticed that two of the hostile Contractors in your PvP have been tricked into going into debt and the purchased waifu immediately claimed by you and yours. The Company is now owed a total of 500 Company Credits which it can no longer collect.

While this is within Company policy, we are humbly asking for your financial support in this matter. Would you be amenable to repaying your former opponents' debts?

Sincerely,

Middle Management

++ C ++

This… was definitely an offer for an under-the-table deal.

I had something they wanted, and that gave me some degree of power over them.

"I want the PvP matches to have less of an impact on my time here." I growled into the Company Smartphone. "These weekly invasions are starting to feel like a 9-to-5 job, and that is wholly unacceptable. Be it by giving an extension to the time I have between PvP matches, or by outright cancelling them. In exchange, I'll foot the bill of my former opponents… with interest if need be."

It has been just a little less than three weeks since I arrived in the MCU, and I have achieved much. I had a universe to conquer, and the MCU still had so many delicious waifus to claim. The constant influx of weaklings with waifus to claim had been a necessary obligation at the start.

And though I knew that I could continue like this if I had to. The same could not be said for everyone else. Most of my waifus have been working nonstop and though they need no sleep- the stress will eventually get to them. The Sakaarian fleet was bound to grow restless if I didn't give them time to actually enjoy the fruits of the constant conquest, and if they mutiny, I'd be forced to murder a good chunk of them which would set me back. Even I was growing annoyed of having all my focus monopolised by the clowns bursting through my door every week.

Any more of this and I was going to be more… violent for the next hostile contractor.

++ C ++

Middle Management has accepted your proposal and are ready to negotiate the terms.

++ C ++

I grinned under my dragonplate helmet at the sight of the message.

Let the negotiations begin.

- Chapter 18: Klee's First Day of School! End -

Chapter 19: The Morningstar Manoeuvre already written and to be posted this Friday…

…