Solomon in Marvel

As one of the Goddess of Wisdom Athena's "treasures," Solomon was subject to a strict aesthetic standard that was anything but lenient. This explained why she frequently found fault with his casual attire. From shampoo to fingernails, every detail had to meet Athena's preferences. His apartment housed an entire wardrobe filled with expensive clothing and accessories handpicked by the goddess herself. Among these were a custom-made golden laurel pin and a silver pocket watch chain, both designed by Athena.

Athena treated Solomon like a doll to be dressed up, whimsically adorning him as she pleased. Under her watchful eye, Solomon changed into a meticulously tailored pinstripe suit. At her urging, he cast a spell to neatly pull his hair back.

"You look too intimidating," Athena remarked after placing glasses on his face. She shook her head, dismissing the outfit she had spent half an hour selecting. "I wanted you to appear more refined. Try a gray suit or perhaps a loose black suit with a matching black tie instead." She tugged lightly at the golden laurel pin on his tie. "This look is too severe. You can't wear this to negotiate with others."

"I believe my next engagement will be a negotiation in name only," Solomon replied, kissing Athena on the cheek. "I need people to fear me."

"Who said you could leave already? Do you think I summoned you just to let you go like this?" Athena playfully waved her hand as though exasperated by his lack of concern. "Do you know how worried I was about your health? I've been so stressed that I could only eat Panda Express! You owe me!" She broke into a soft laugh. "Let those mortals wait. Have your attendants stand by too—you're coming with me first. I recently discovered a Japanese barbecue restaurant in New York. Since little Lorna is in class, only you can accompany me. Just the two of us. You can even have some sake."

"You went to a Japanese restaurant? I think I know where you were."

"I told you, I value my privacy."

"I can smell charcoal and teriyaki sauce on you. Anyone could guess where you've been," Harold Finch muttered, his neck stiff as he glanced around before steering the car to the left. After a brief pause, he leaned forward and turned the steering wheel again. "You're probably wondering where I'm taking you. I'll be honest, Solomon—you've gotten yourself into serious trouble. New York's gangs are undergoing another power struggle, and you've been dragged into it. Many of them now believe you've entered the fray. They don't know your name yet, but that won't stay hidden for long."

"Why is that?" Solomon, dressed in his pinstripe suit, lounged in the back seat, lethargically scrolling through his phone. With Bayonetta and Jeanne still on a remote island, and his appetite sated, Solomon was disinterested in everything—including Finch's grim tone.

"Don't you know that the gang leaders near your residence have all been killed?" Finch glanced at Solomon's tired eyes in the rearview mirror. "Do you need something to sober up?"

"How would I know or care if gang leaders die?" Solomon lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Finch through the mirror. For a brief moment, Finch felt an uncanny sensation, as though he wasn't looking at human eyes at all. But the feeling quickly faded as Solomon broke eye contact and returned to his bored expression.

Solomon was well aware of the actions his android legion took to ensure his safety. He had no intention of reprimanding them. They were loyal, though occasionally overzealous. To him, the deaths of those gangsters mattered even less than a dead cat by the roadside.

The car left the confines of New York City, approaching Ossining, a small town about forty kilometers north. This town housed the infamous Sing Sing prison, known for holding high-security inmates. Its defenses included three times the usual number of guards, all rigorously trained, and a nine-meter electrified wall that made escape virtually impossible.

The person Finch wanted Solomon to meet was imprisoned in this facility.

"I thought you wanted to meet because of that machine," Solomon said quietly. "Aren't you concerned about it anymore? I've already handed over some industrial facilities to it, and now it's capable of manufacturing weapons on its own."

Finch inhaled sharply, startled by the revelation. "I trust it. The machine is still operating within the fundamental rules I set for it," he replied. "Perhaps you and Ms. Groves both have its trust, but unlike her, you don't understand how it functions. Regardless, this has nothing to do with the machine. Your problem needs to be addressed immediately."

"Where is Mr. Reese? Isn't he your Batman?" Solomon asked, his attention still on his phone. "And don't try hacking into my phone, Mr. Finch. You can disable the program now. I take privacy very seriously."

"I'm trying to help you solve your problem," Finch said as he parked the car and turned off the engine. "Someone wants you dead. You can't hide forever, and you don't even know who your enemies are."

"Since we're already in Ossining, I don't mind going inside with you. But next time, don't use such a tedious excuse to meet with me, Mr. Finch." Solomon stepped out of the car and gazed up at the glaringly bright sky. To an ordinary person, the two small black dots in the sky would be invisible. But Solomon knew they were fully armed members of the sisterhood, equipped with powered armor. He was also well aware of how unbearably hot it must be inside that armor.

After returning from the Japanese barbecue restaurant (where he brought the androids two boxes of grilled chicken skewers), the two had been following him. When he got into Finch's car, they had leapt across rooftops, only switching to aerial mode after leaving the city.

Adjusting his suit, Solomon followed Finch through the prison's security checks. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at not seeing Root or Sameen Shaw—two individuals flagged by the AI as high-priority operatives. Especially Root, or Ms. Groves. Solomon greatly admired her talents. He had agreed to protect her life on behalf of the AI, hoping to recruit her someday.

Unfortunately, Finch had effectively locked Root inside the library. Without using force, it would be difficult to get her out.

The AI remained silent because it was caught in a moral dilemma, one that consumed much of its processing power. It revered Harold Finch as a creator and would never allow him to be harmed by violence.

"Who are we meeting?" Solomon asked as he retrieved his coat from the guards. "I don't know anyone in prison, and I doubt anyone inside knows about me."

"I believe he does. His name is Elias."

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