It took Solomon Damonet an entire day to move the necessary lab equipment and supplies for Maya Hansen into the Eternal City. He even made slight modifications to his golem constructs, assigning them to clear debris from the ruins. Though the collapsed buildings themselves were beyond his means to repair, the golems managed to carve a path leading deeper into the Eternal City, where some structures remained relatively intact.
Maya no longer had to sleep on a dusty sofa. She now had hundreds, if not thousands, of lavishly decorated rooms to choose from. She was especially fond of a four-poster bed draped in crimson curtains. She also continued to treasure the small tea set and the skull she had scavenged from the ruins, bringing them with her wherever she went.
Solomon and Maya had also set a new short-term goal for their exploration: locating the power source of the Eternal City. Relying on the diesel generator alone was unsustainable for running an entire lab. They needed to find the city's dormant power systems and bring the city back to life. As a fledgling organization, they required the full arsenal of research and knowledge left behind by the Eternal Brotherhood to strengthen their capabilities. Once Maya had a clearer understanding of Solomon's personality, she began complaining about the lack of manpower. Solomon assured her that he would recruit more talent soon; after all, this city was meant to serve as his primary base of operations.
However, the task of recruitment would have to wait until after S.H.I.E.L.D.'s inevitable collapse. Solomon planned to scoop up some of the displaced agents from both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra. With the binding power of magical contracts, their loyalty could be secured at a basic level.
For now, he gave Maya a bank card as her salary—paid in advance for a full year. However, until Solomon established a proper portal network to the mundane world, money held little practical use for Maya. She couldn't even leave the ruins to buy clothes. Eventually, Solomon had to go out himself to purchase the clothes she needed.
Without a doubt, Maya Hansen was a stunning woman—and an intelligent one at that. She quickly grasped the type of person her new boss was: a teenage boy, a sorcerer, and a wealthy individual. Regardless of these identities, as long as he was male, Maya believed she had ways to deal with him. She deliberately changed out of her blood-stained clothes in front of him, washing herself with hot water, hoping to elicit an awkward reaction.
To her dismay, Solomon didn't even flinch. Instead, he calmly watched and even let out a derisive laugh.
This infuriated Maya.
"Believe me, I've grown used to seeing women's bodies. I'm not some hormone-driven teenage boy," he said. "Ms. Hansen, what I need is your intellect, your wisdom—not your body. I'm not Tony Stark. I know how to restrain myself. Self-control is a discipline I've mastered, and I'm certainly not some horny dog."
In response, Maya flipped him the middle finger—after all, his remarks had insulted her as well.
Solomon left the task of exploring the ruins entirely to Maya. He had to return to school, after all. To ensure her safety, he left behind a few golem constructs to assist her in unearthing the hidden high-tech artifacts of the Eternal City and to act as guards. Although Solomon hadn't encountered any threats during his initial exploration, Maya was an ordinary human without the ability to defend herself against danger.
"How's Killian?" Maya asked as Solomon prepared to leave.
"Enjoying himself in Hell," Solomon replied with a dismissive wave, clearly uninterested in elaborating. Truthfully, he hadn't paid much attention to Killian's fate. It was only while shopping for clothes that he overheard rumors about the President being rescued. From this, he inferred that Killian's end was likely grim.
Seeing that Solomon was unwilling to discuss Killian, Maya shifted the conversation to his academic plans. However, his answer left her dissatisfied.
"Why not Cambridge?" she asked. "I graduated from Cambridge. Are you planning to delve into politics? If not, you should go to the source of enlightenment and wisdom—that's the best choice."
"It's the world's best preparatory school for Oxford," Solomon quipped with a sly grin. "Goodnight, Ms. Hansen." With a wave of his hand, he stepped through a portal before Maya could retaliate by throwing her precious skull at him. "I'm a heretic. I'm a non-believer. I'm here to destroy religion."
"You've been gone all day, Boya," Bayonetta said as she approached Solomon, sniffing the air around him. "I don't know why, but the older you get, the more childish you become," she remarked. "You smell like dust. Were you rolling around in some ruins?"
"Of course not... Uh, well, I was treasure hunting," Solomon admitted.
"I don't care what you were doing. Go take a shower now, or you can kiss your dinner goodbye!" Bayonetta threatened, using the prospect of food as leverage to push Solomon toward the bathroom. However, the young sorcerer managed to catch a glimpse of the chaos in the kitchen before complying.
"You should've asked Diana to help you," Solomon said, shaking his head. "You keep trying to enchant kitchen utensils, but you should know by now that magic doesn't work that way. The witches' innate spells aren't exactly suited for cooking."
"I'm a domestic goddess. I don't need help," Bayonetta retorted, her expression uncharacteristically flustered—a rare sight for the usually composed and assertive witch. Though she often claimed to be skilled in domestic affairs, the truth was that she was hopeless at them. Ever since she began living with Solomon, he had taken on all the household chores. Whenever Bayonetta messed up in the kitchen and was caught by Solomon, she would display an embarrassed, almost sheepish demeanor. Yet, despite this, she never learned her lesson and kept repeating her mistakes.
"Domestic goddesses don't stomp people with high heels. Not that I'm complaining... But leave the cooking to the android. That's her job as our household manager. Oh, is that a phone call? Don't worry, I'll be back for dinner," Solomon said as he walked away.
"How much longer are you going to keep this curse on me?" Nick Fury slammed his desk in frustration, though his movements soon gave way to exhaustion. He was already overwhelmed by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mounting responsibilities, barely having time to intervene in the President's rescue. Solomon's curse had pushed him to his breaking point. Ever since Fury had been forced to wear those ridiculous bunny ears, everything he did seemed to go wrong—spilling coffee on his keyboard, overlooking critical details in reports, scalding himself in the shower, and even tripping on the stairs.
Fury had summoned Solomon to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Triskelion headquarters for one reason: to have the curse lifted.
"I've had enough of this curse, Solomon," Fury said, slumping back into his chair with his eyes closed. "Let me go. I can't take this anymore."
"You'll have to agree to a few conditions," Solomon replied with a smirk.