"You sure your boss didn't tell you to pump me for information… or maybe sneak a blood sample from Onion while you're at it?"
Lucas asked flatly, not even bothering to look up. He knew S.H.I.E.L.D. and Nick Fury far too well—their paranoia was legendary. The moment they saw something new, their first instinct was to dissect it, analyze it, and lock it away under the label of 'classified.'
Classic persecution complex. They always thought the whole world was out to get them.
Then again, considering all the crap the United States had pulled over the years, who wouldn't want to mess with them? The only reason no one had nuked them yet was because no one wanted to start World War III.
Coulson's cheeks flushed slightly—an extremely rare sight.
Because Lucas was exactly right. Fury's orders had been very specific: get the kid talking and find a way to extract some of that bird's blood for analysis. Onion's existence defied every known biological model, and its flight speed was faster than any modern jet. S.H.I.E.L.D. had to know how.
Since they were already at the base, Lucas decided to send Onion away. The bird's presence drew too much attention—every soldier in camp was staring at it like they'd just seen an alien spaceship. It was only a matter of time before Onion got annoyed enough to start a fight.
"So," Lucas asked, sipping on an icy melon juice inside a shaded tent, "got any leads on Stark?"
Coulson, also clutching a dripping cold drink like it was liquid gold, sighed. "None. Those terrorists vanished into thin air. Every tracker we've deployed came up empty. We've practically wiped out every major cell in the region, and still no sign of Tony Stark."
Lucas leaned back. "I need something that belongs to Stark—something he's used recently. You got anything like that?"
Coulson shook his head. "Not here. But I can have someone send it over immediately."
"No need," Lucas said, waving him off. "Have them deliver it to my office. I'll get it myself."
If he waited for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s bureaucracy, Stark would probably rescue himself before the item even arrived. Lucas didn't have that kind of patience—this was a race against time.
"Got it. I'll contact Natasha."
Coulson didn't ask questions. He simply grabbed the satellite phone and relayed the order back to New York.
Less than an hour later, Natasha called back—she had the item in hand and was already at the Devil May Cry office.
"Wait here," Lucas said, standing up. "I'll be right back."
Before Coulson could ask what he meant, Lucas pulled out the Chocobo Whistle, blew twice—
—and vanished.
Coulson froze mid-blink.
---
In the office, a swirl of light appeared out of nowhere, and Lucas stepped out of thin air.
"Wow," Natasha said with a grin. "The boss has teleportation magic now? Impressive."
Her companion, a red-haired woman in a gray suit, nearly dropped her teacup in shock.
"Allow me to introduce you," Natasha said. "This is Pepper Potts—executive assistant to the CEO of Stark Industries."
She nodded toward Lucas. "And this is the one who's going to find Tony Stark."
Pepper immediately stood, eyes wide and desperate. "Mr. Norman, please—do you have any news about him? Whatever the cost, Stark Industries will pay it!"
Her tone was resolute—she meant it. In Tony's absence, Pepper held near-total control of the company. Stark had always left business matters to her and Obadiah, while he spent his days drinking, partying, and tinkering in his lab.
Lucas smiled. "Don't worry, Ms. Potts. I'll bring Tony Stark back in one piece. Now—did you bring what I asked for?"
"I did," she said quickly. "I wasn't sure what you'd need, so I brought several of Mr. Stark's personal items."
She opened a travel case beside her—inside were a dozen objects: watches, glasses, pens, even an arc reactor prototype fragment.
Lucas picked up a wristwatch. "This'll do."
He turned to leave. "Every minute counts. The longer we wait, the greater the danger."
He gave Skye a brief wave before vanishing again through the Chocobo Space portal.
---
Back in the desert base, Coulson was in the middle of briefing his team when Lucas suddenly materialized right beside him.
Everyone froze. Guns immediately snapped up, aimed straight at his head.
"Easy! Easy, guys!" Coulson raised both hands. "He's friendly!"
Once the soldiers lowered their weapons, Lucas said curtly, "I'm heading out. Get your team ready. Once I find Tony Stark, I'll contact you—just trace my signal when the time comes."
Without waiting for a response, he summoned Onion. The massive bird materialized in a swirl of sand and wind.
Lucas held the wristwatch out to it. Onion sniffed lightly, let out a confident "Wark," and nodded.
"Good boy."
Moments later, they were airborne again.
Within minutes, they'd reached a hidden compound tucked between rocky cliffs—a secret base large enough to be invisible to radar. Lucas guessed the tech shielding it had come straight from Stark Industries. And considering who was pulling the strings behind the scenes—Obadiah Stane—it made perfect sense.
"Find us a spot to land," Lucas murmured.
Onion descended to a narrow plateau overlooking the base. The vantage point gave Lucas a clear view without exposing him.
He dismissed Onion, sending the bird back into the Chocobo Space, and began sneaking toward the facility on foot.
Carefully avoiding the patrols, Lucas eventually reached the mouth of a cave guarded by two armed men. The cave was sealed, but the faint echo of metal clanging came from within. Stark was inside.
Lucas crouched low, picked up a pebble, and flicked it.
Plink!
It hit one guard on the helmet. The man looked around, saw nothing, and grunted.
Plink!
Another pebble—slightly larger this time. The guard frowned, rubbing the sore spot.
Still nothing.
Then—
THUD!
A rock the size of a bowling ball crashed down, splattering the man's skull open like a watermelon.
"F**k!"
The other guard stumbled back, eyes darting upward.
Too late. Lucas had already rolled a boulder down from his perch above.
But before he could move on to phase two, a drone suddenly swooped into view. Its lens swiveled, locking right onto his face.
"Ah, hell—!"
So much for stealth.
Abandoning subtlety, Lucas leapt off the ridge, landing in front of the cave. The Judgment Blade materialized in his hands in a flash of golden light.
With a single swing, he cleaved the second guard in half.
An alarm blared through the base—sirens wailing, red lights flashing. Dozens of gunmen poured out from every direction, rifles raised.
Lucas swung his blade once. A wave of wind slashes burst outward, deflecting the incoming bullets like a steel wall before slicing through the attackers.
Bodies fell in two neat lines.
The rescue had begun.
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