Solomon in Marvel

Tony Stark frowned as he looked at Colonel Rhodes lying on the hospital bed. The attack on Langley Air Force Base was not exactly a well-kept secret to him. Despite public perception, his relationship with the military wasn't as strained as many believed.

After the Extremis virus crisis, Stark had upgraded Rhodey's War Machine armor, enhancing its heat resistance and impact absorption. Thanks to those improvements, Rhodey had been the least injured survivor of the Langley attack.

As for the fate of the others, Stark didn't want to dwell on it. He had seen the photographs from the scene—grotesque images of dismembered bodies and scattered entrails soaking in pools of darkened blood. Even someone as hardened as Tony, who had witnessed the horrors of war in the Middle East, had nearly vomited at the sight.

Yet, despite the efforts of multiple intelligence agencies, no one had identified the attackers. The evidence gathered thus far indicated that the assailants had used weapons far beyond the reach of ordinary individuals. Their combat style suggested a preference for close-quarters engagements; many soldiers had been slain by swords after the enemy got within striking range.

Investigators also discovered large claw marks and traces of sulfur at the attack site, prompting some to propose a wild theory—perhaps a dragon had been involved. No one could completely refute this idea, given the strange realities that now plagued the world. Even Rhodes, the only living witness, couldn't clarify the situation. He had suffered a concussion and seemed to have lost all memory of the attack.

The doctors had no idea if his memory would ever return.

According to experts, it likely wouldn't. The memory loss wasn't due to a simple magical trick. The type of enchantment that could alter memories required an extremely expensive spell scroll, with effects that matched its cost. Compounding matters, the base's surveillance footage had been completely wiped. Intelligence agencies speculated that the attackers had targeted the Air Force base to gather information on patrol routes around the White House, possibly with the intent of detonating a nuclear warhead there.

This represented a catastrophic security breach.

The FBI seized the opportunity to criticize the Air Combat Command and demanded increased funding for countermeasures.

The CIA, on the other hand, claimed the attack was an act of espionage disguised as terrorism, orchestrated by foreign operatives. They, too, requested a budget increase.

The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) accused both the FBI and CIA of wasting resources and demanded that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s funding be cut, redirecting those funds to DHS. They argued that S.H.I.E.L.D. had repeatedly proven itself incompetent in preventing international terror threats.

Meanwhile, the Terrorism and Financial Intelligence Office petitioned the Treasury Department for salary raises and sought to absorb the FBI's responsibilities. Even the Department of Defense joined the fray, calling for higher military spending. The investigation quickly devolved into a political debate over federal budget allocations.

The White House saw through these tactics and opted to unite several domestic security agencies in a joint investigation. This arrangement ensured that no single agency had full control over the inquiry, allowing the White House to maintain oversight of both the investigators and the case details.

At the same time, the White House also turned to S.H.I.E.L.D., requesting their assistance in the investigation. Since there were indications that supernatural forces might have been involved, S.H.I.E.L.D. was expected to provide intelligence, equipment, and personnel.

Agent Victoria Hand led a team of technical specialists, representing S.H.I.E.L.D. in the operation. Her mission was twofold: to prevent the White House from using this crisis as an excuse to slash S.H.I.E.L.D.'s funding and to uncover the truth behind the attack. Though this was a politically motivated directive from Director Nick Fury, Hand personally took the case seriously. She found it curious that S.H.I.E.L.D. had initially shown little interest in the incident.

Unbeknownst to her, Fury had already identified a prime suspect but had kept that information to himself.

The theft of a nuclear warhead was severe enough to justify declaring a national emergency—at least, that was what Agent Hand had recommended. However, her request was denied. The reason was simple: the White House refused to publicly acknowledge the incident.

Even involving civilians like Tony Stark was out of the question. The U.S. government had already been humiliated in the eyes of the world during the alien invasion. If they displayed panic over a terrorist stealing a nuclear warhead, the president risked being labeled a coward. Even the politically correct Democrats understood that the administration needed to project strength to secure re-election.

The public didn't need to know about the missing warhead. As long as the politicians and corporate elite were aware, that was sufficient. For those in the "White House zoo," politics was the only thing that mattered.

"Here, take this." Solomon handed a woman across from him a cup of freshly purchased tea. The cardboard sleeve insulated her fingers from the heat. "Just sugar, no milk," he added, sipping from his own cup. "Forgive me, I wasn't sure what you liked."

"I forgive you," the hooded woman replied in a raspy voice.

They stood near the Bodleian Library, next to an ancient brick structure. The shadows cast by a newly repaired glass skybridge enveloped the woman, though her vibrant orange hair peeked out mischievously from beneath her hood. The amber glow of streetlamps illuminated the damp stone architecture around them, exuding an air of peaceful decay. As she spoke, a familiar warmth filled the air—much like the tea in her hands.

"I already knew your taste," she said cheerfully. "I like my tea without milk, too."

"I'm glad you enjoy it. Your investigative skills are impressive, finding me here in the Bodleian."

Solomon looked directly at Natasha Romanoff. She raised her head and smiled confidently, meeting his gaze without hesitation.

"Why are you here?" Solomon asked casually, as if he were an ordinary law-abiding citizen. "Surely not because I've been killing vampires around Oxfordshire? I doubt human law protects vampires—or women who date them, for that matter. Honestly, I'm shocked by the popularity of these absurd romance novels. Maybe I should toss a real vampire into those authors' homes and let them face the truth about human-shaped ticks."

"Vampires in Oxfordshire?" Natasha feigned surprise. "I wasn't aware of that."

"Really?" Solomon raised an eyebrow. "It's nothing unusual for me. Extermination is part of my job—clearing Earth of pests."

"I'm not here because of that, cute boy," she teased. "I came to say goodbye. I have a mission to complete."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Solomon asked, blinking. "Is this mission so dangerous that you might die?"

"Every mission carries that risk," Natasha replied with a shrug. "I'm used to it—I'm a spy. But you're awfully cold, Solomon. Aren't you curious about what I have to say next?"

Solomon offered an apologetic smile.

"I'm here to tell you that an Air Force base on U.S. soil was attacked, and a nuclear warhead was stolen," Natasha said, watching his face closely for any reaction. "All intelligence agencies are on high alert. Every secret is being dragged into the light. Fury may not be able to keep your identity hidden much longer."

"Is that so?" Solomon narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure this meeting doesn't violate protocol? I thought agents like you were bound by confidentiality."

"It's true. Besides, you're a special case."

Even Solomon's mind-reading abilities couldn't penetrate Natasha's defenses. Aware of his capabilities, she had preemptively conditioned herself, burying her thoughts deep beneath layers of false memories and misdirection.

"You can use your magic to verify if I'm lying," she said casually. "But I won't lie to you, Solomon. You've never fully trusted me."

"I apologize again," Solomon sighed. "You could've told me this over the phone. Is there anything else?"

"There is… a personal matter." Natasha hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. "I want to ask you about a promise from the past." She inhaled deeply. "Can you… make me pregnant?"

"Spit-take!"

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