Marvelous Mutations

In truth, Natasha Romanoff and Phil Coulson were nothing like Luke's usual customers.

Most visitors to the store, whether curious neighbors or lost tourists, would be affected by Wanda's cheery question the moment they walked in: "Would you like to buy something?"

Usually, people would pause, hesitate, then feel compelled to buy something, even if it was just a paperclip.

But not these two.

The trick, powered by the store's first-order mutated lucky cat, had zero effect on them. Not a twitch. Not a blink.

Luke wasn't surprised.

First-order mutations were far from powerful, and these two were trained. Not just physically, but mentally, disciplined, focused, with stronger willpower than even the military men who'd visited before.

That, in itself, was impressive.

But right now, despite their elite training, they looked just a bit... lost.

Facing Luke's unexpected friendliness and confident demeanor, the two agents found themselves slightly off balance.

Luke pulled out two tiny plastic stools, the kind you'd find in kindergarten classrooms, and placed them neatly in front of the counter.

Then, with an exaggerated flourish, he wheeled out a plush black-and-red gaming chair from behind the counter, flopped onto it like a satisfied cat, and propped one leg over the other.

He even let out a contented sigh.

Natasha and Coulson stared at the stools.

They were barely 30 centimeters tall.

And they had Luke, a man who knew things he shouldn't, lounging like a king in what looked like a throne of RGB lights and memory foam.

This had to be deliberate.

Did he really just invite two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to squat in front of him like schoolchildren?

Was this… arrogance? Mockery? Or just an annoyingly casual kind of confidence?

But then they thought back to the green-furred husky. A real monster who could casually swallow them whole.

No matter how ridiculous Luke seemed, they weren't in a position to be confrontational.

So, the world's most uncomfortable interrogation began.

The agents sat down on the stools, cramped, stiff, and more than a little humiliated.

Luke leaned forward ever so slightly, gaze calm and leisurely. He looked like a manager conducting annual performance reviews.

After a beat of silence, Natasha decided it was time to stop being passive.

This time, she would speak without giving him the chance to cut in.

She opened her mouth slowly, pausing, eyes locked on Luke's face, waiting for him to interrupt like he had already done before.

But he didn't.

Taking the chance, she asked clearly and cautiously, "Mr. Yale, how do you know our names?"

That was the question gnawing at both of them.

Not just a curiosity, it was a serious breach. Their real names weren't public. Not even close.

When Luke didn't immediately answer, both Natasha and Coulson tensed, unconsciously leaning forward.

Luke looked at them both, smiled lightly, and said, "You're both celebrities. I've seen you on TV, of course. That's how I recognized you."

Natasha's face instantly darkened.

What kind of answer was that?

When had she ever been on TV?

Before she could retort, Luke spoke again innocently.

"Weren't you in that financial show on Channel 12? From the New York Revenue Department, right? I could swear I saw you two arguing about tax reforms."

Natasha blinked.

Coulson blinked.

What financial show?

They were sure now, this guy was spewing nonsense with the confidence of a seasoned liar.

And yet… they couldn't even be mad.

It was almost poetic.

Luke had taken their fake identities and spun them right back around with a straight face, turning their lie into a joke.

A light breeze blew through the open shop window, ruffling the receipt papers on the desk.

It was Natasha who broke the silence first. "Are we supposed to talk about taxes now?"

Luke tilted his head. "Do you want to?"

Natasha sighed.

She glanced sideways at Coulson, his expression said I've lost control of this conversation and I don't know how to get it back.

Enough of this, she decided.

Time to stop playing games.

She looked Luke in the eye and said sincerely, "Mr. Yale, let's be honest. You clearly know we're not from the Revenue Department. And yes, we lied. That was a mistake, and we apologize for it."

Her voice was calm and direct, a small olive branch in the middle of an absurd battlefield.

To her surprise, Luke looked a bit embarrassed.

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, the TV reception isn't very good in this area. Maybe I really did mistake you for someone else…"

Natasha gave a small smile, saying nothing. She wasn't buying it, but she appreciated the gesture.

Then she decided to go a step further.

"My name is Natasha Romanoff. This is Agent Phil Coulson. We're from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We're here for a routine visit. I hope you won't mind."

Coulson's expression changed instantly.

This wasn't protocol. Their mission was reconnaissance, not disclosure.

He gave Natasha a sharp look, but she responded with a subtle glance that said: Trust me.

Coulson exhaled and let it go.

Natasha, ever the pragmatist, understood something he hadn't fully grasped yet:

Pretending was pointless.

Luke wasn't surprised by their real identities.

Not even a flicker of reaction crossed his face.

That only confirmed her suspicion, he had known all along.

No more games, then.

She continued, voice steady, "Mr. Yale, when we first entered, I heard you mention Tony Stark's name. Do you have any thoughts about his disappearance?"

The air seemed to thicken slightly.

…