Solomon sat in his chair, visibly irritated, gripping a pen in his hand. A small wooden folding desk rested on his lap, and thick textbooks were stacked beside him. Bright light from above illuminated the practice workbook in front of him. Earbuds nestled in his ears, completing the image of an ordinary high school student diligently studying. Everything appeared completely normal—except for the seatbelt strapped across his chair.
Suddenly, the desk shook violently, and the black pen streaked across the paper, leaving a long, messy ink stain that trailed off the page, resembling an ugly scar. For a brief moment, Solomon imagined it seeping black, viscous blood. His face twitched with irritation as he leaned down to retrieve the pen cap from the metal floor. "I'm out of patience," he muttered. Closing the pen with deliberate care, he neatly stacked his books and workbook, then coiled the earbuds' wires into a tidy bundle.
"When are we getting there, Natasha? Nick Fury only gave me a rendezvous point. How long until I know where the base is?"
"He's busy, thanks to the mess you caused. And maybe if you listened to better music, time would pass faster, little boy." Natasha Romanoff didn't look back as she turned off the Quinjet's communication system. The location they were heading to was top-secret, known to very few within SHIELD. The Quinjet's cloaking system made it the perfect transport for such missions.
Natasha had practically stormed into Solomon's school to pick him up, creating a scene straight out of countless teenage fantasies—a stunning red-haired spy in a tight leather suit, driving a luxury car, bursting into the tranquil schoolyard. She strode through the sunlit classroom with a commanding presence, breaking the oppressive silence and whisking the daydreaming student away from the prison of monotony. Solomon had to admit he had once daydreamed about something similar. But when it actually happened, all he wanted to do was cover his face and pretend he didn't know Natasha. It was mortifying. He was convinced his social life had crumbled in an instant.
"Little boy." He vividly remembered Natasha leaning against the doorway, pressing her sunglasses to her lips as she rasped in her sultry voice, "Come with me."
And he had bowed his head, packed his bag, and followed her out like a scolded child. Thinking back, he couldn't imagine a more embarrassing moment.
"Don't insult it! That's a school idol anime!" Solomon's reaction was almost comically defensive.
"I know. I was assigned to investigate you. I'm aware you visit Akihabara weekly, that you forged a passport to buy restricted doujinshi, and that the T-shirt under your dress shirt features an anime girl. I know everything…"
"Stop, stop, stop!" Solomon slammed the desk with his fists, his heart breaking. This was his biggest secret!
"Shouldn't boys your age be obsessed with sports, burning off all their excess energy? Why don't you have acne? Are you using some kind of magic skincare?" Natasha teased, raising an eyebrow. "And don't worry about school; I've already arranged your leave of absence. SHIELD excels at that sort of thing. Your cover story is participation in a high-tech device development program. There are plenty of kids like you in SHIELD's academy—no one will suspect a thing."
"My fencing scores are top-notch. I play soccer too, and my physical education grades are perfect, so…"
"You're normal, I get it. Everyone with your hobbies claims the same thing." Romanoff smirked, mercilessly hitting where it hurt. "But maybe you should try acting more like your peers. I had no idea British public schools were so dull."
Solomon glanced at his tailcoat and crisp white shirt—his school uniform. "I don't see the appeal of sweaty high school boys attending class in basketball jerseys. If girls find that attractive, I have no comment. You can find plenty of those types in American public schools. Someone like me is rare. Now, enough chit-chat. What do you know about the TAHITI project?"
"Not much. But apart from me, no one else knows Fury arranged for Agent Coulson's revival."
"Good. You're in for a surprise."
"They say the key medication has to be produced immediately," Natasha remarked, stepping away from the cockpit as she activated the jet's autopilot. They only needed to wait to reach their destination. In the meantime, she didn't mind learning more about Solomon. Sitting next to him, she asked, "Do you know something? You always act like you know everything."
"In fact, Nick Fury had prior contact with aliens before the New York incident. The Kree and Skrulls entered Earth's orbit during that time. Afterward, both races left—searching for new homes in the Skrulls' case. But it seems some Skrulls didn't leave, and Fury has been working with them."
"You seem well-informed about aliens."
"I know a bit, but my expertise is magical creatures, not aliens. I'm familiar with a few major galactic races, but the obscure ones are beyond me. Still, I've heard of the Skrulls' infamy. One theory suggests their origins are tied to ancient Earth. What really happened, I can't say. Back then, gods walked the earth, and anything was possible."
"You mean like Thor and the Asgardians?"
"Asgardians have divine ancestry. Their claim to godhood isn't without merit. But from a theological perspective, the rulers of the Nine Realms don't qualify as true gods. Gods represent universal concepts—time, space, death, entropy. They are the origin of fundamental forces. The Asgardians merely wield a particular power; they don't embody a concept."
"That's enlightening."
After this time-filling discussion, the Quinjet finally reached its destination. Natasha led Solomon out of the cabin. They arrived at a cliffside overlooking the ocean, where a base was built into the rock. The entrance was a reinforced concrete tunnel with a heavy steel door sealing it shut.
"Did you have a smooth drive from Istanbul?" Natasha pressed a button marked with a biohazard symbol. The intercom buzzed with a coded response—part of the prearranged protocol Fury had given her. She guided Solomon through a dark, sloping tunnel. The lights along the walls were spaced far apart, barely illuminating the path. In the dimness, their footsteps echoed sharply, the only sounds apart from the faint hum of the lighting.
Neither spoke. The oppressive atmosphere of the tunnel stifled conversation, even for a spy and a mystic. They descended in an elevator, passed through a bulletproof glass door, and entered a research lab.
The room buzzed with activity as researchers moved about. An older doctor with light brown skin and graying stubble approached Natasha. "Agent Romanoff," he greeted her, then turned to Solomon. "I'm starting to regret taking this assignment. Does Fury have any idea what he's doing? This isn't a science fair, and kids shouldn't be exposed to this."
"I'm just here to keep Agent Coulson fresh," Solomon quipped with a shrug. "In simple terms, I'm overseeing this project now. Don't worry—I won't mess with what I don't understand. My only goal is to ensure this operation succeeds. I have some experience with resurrection."
"You?" The doctor gave Natasha a questioning look. She nodded, confirming Solomon's claim.
"Fine. Kids these days are something else."
"Tell me, is Coulson defrosted yet? I hope you didn't microwave him." The mystic gestured for Natasha to lead the way, following behind her.
"Of course not. He's thawing naturally," the doctor replied, walking alongside him. "We're on our seventh surgery. The first six failed; his vitals couldn't stabilize. We've been repeating the procedure ever since. If you need, you can access all our data, including everything on the GH series drugs. Previously, the TAHITI project was only used for severely injured agents. This is our first resurrection attempt. Have you worked with GH drugs or the project before?"
"No, but I've handled GH's raw material. If you think it's not fresh enough, I can fetch more. As many as you need."
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