"Baldy! Don't forget what I said!"
Lucas's voice faded as he was dragged away, and only then did Nick Fury's bellows slowly settle from forge-bellows back to human lungs.
Once Lucas left the office, he finally behaved.
The three of them entered the elevator, and Lucas immediately turned to Coulson.
"Where's my jet? I can't wait another second."
Coulson pointed downward—
the hangar level, where rows of Quinjets were parked.
One of them—a gray-white frame without any paint—stood out.
The Triskelion's elevator was fully transparent, offering a clear view outside.
"That one. Since it's a prototype, it hasn't been painted yet.
You can choose whatever color scheme you like.
Like I said before—aside from normal flight capabilities, it has no weapons installed."
Lucas stared at his Quinjet, excitement swelling.
He was finally going to fly his own aircraft.
They reached the hangar, and under Natasha and Coulson's instructions, Lucas barely learned how to open and close the doors.
Coulson couldn't stop complaining—Lucas looked smart, so why did he turn into a complete idiot when it came to aircraft?
Actually, it wasn't just planes.
Lucas was terrible with all vehicles.
He still couldn't figure out Skye's van.
Passing a driving test at all was a miracle.
A high-tech plane was basically wizardry to him.
Finally, Natasha couldn't stand it anymore.
She slapped Lucas out of the pilot seat, sat down herself, and took off.
Lucas sat off to the side, enduring her relentless ridicule.
The Quinjet landed smoothly on the apartment rooftop.
Skye, Gwen, and Wanda were already waiting—they wanted to see the machine Lucas had talked about nonstop.
"So this is the aircraft you wanted? Looks pretty good."
Gwen circled it several times.
Aside from being smaller than standard jets, everything else looked great—
and Quinjets had a uniquely sharp silhouette.
After examining it, the three girls immediately rushed onboard and began learning the controls from Natasha.
Lucas' hopeless vehicle-idiot attribute doomed him to be a passenger, never a pilot.
"Okay, you can get off now. We're gonna fly and learn."
Gwen waved him away like he was in the way.
Lucas stepped off the jet with a face full of betrayal, tearfully devastated.
So love does fade, huh?
Yesterday he was darling sweetheart—
today he was the annoying husband.
---
The Lonely Days
For the next few days, Lucas sat alone in the office while the three maniacs flew the Quinjet around the world daily.
Thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s diplomatic flight clearance, any UN member state was open airspace for them.
They had global access.
Meanwhile, the pitiful Lucas stayed home, bitter and jealous.
He wanted to roam too—
it was his jet!
Why couldn't he enjoy it?!
He buried his face into Moguri's fluffy belly.
Moguri struggled desperately, but Lucas' grip was like an iron vise.
Eventually, the poor creature gave up resisting and lay there in despair.
Lucas was about to close the shop early when Matt and Frank walked in.
Matt wore casual clothes and dark glasses.
Frank was also dressed casually—though his bulging waistband clearly held a gun.
"What are you two doing here? Is your law office that idle?"
Lucas asked curiously.
Frank had been working for Matt recently, taking investigative jobs for the firm—
lawyers in Hell's Kitchen often needed less-than-legal help.
Frank finally had steady work instead of robbing gangs to survive.
Life was stabilizing…
and he'd even started flirting with Karen Page.
"We've got something.
Remember the vampire incident?
We've spotted new vampire activity."
Frank went straight to the point and handed Lucas several photos.
The photos showed the corpses of several women,
each with two puncture marks on their necks—
and every neck had been broken, some so violently the bone was exposed.
"A mercy kill to stop them from turning?"
Lucas raised a brow.
That wasn't normal vampire behavior.
Vampires didn't drain a victim and thoughtfully finish them off.
That wasn't their nature at all.
"We thought the same.
This doesn't match vampire behavior.
And after last time, New York's vampires were wiped out.
S.H.I.E.L.D. cleaned up the stragglers too.
I suspect these are outsiders trying to reclaim New York."
Frank analyzed.
He, Lucas, and Blade had completely annihilated the New York vampire council.
Anything showing up now was new.
"These blood-sucking roaches… never-ending."
Lucas tossed the photos aside.
Vampires were pests—
kill one batch, another would rise.
As long as humans existed, so would vampires.
"Did you contact Blade? What did he say?"
Lucas asked.
If anyone understood vampires, it was Blade—half vampire himself.
"He says he can't come.
He's dealing with a tough nest in Atlanta.
But he recommended another vampire hunter—said the guy is strong.
Problem is… we haven't met him yet."
Frank looked annoyed.
Blade promised help, delivered nothing.
"So? Any other leads?"
Lucas asked.
He hadn't heard anything about vampires recently—he'd been in New Mexico playing with hammers.
Frank shook his head.
"No leads at all.
This vampire leaves zero traces.
His feeding pattern is irregular.
No way to predict him."
Frank, a former spec-ops soldier and Fury's old comrade, was extremely competent.
If even he found nothing, then there was nothing to find.
"Maybe ask Baldy Fury?"
Lucas suggested.
As the top spy on Earth, Fury might know something.
Worth a shot.
Frank agreed—S.H.I.E.L.D. had resources.
Matt hadn't said a word the entire time—
he simply sipped tea, lost in thought.
Then suddenly—
Time froze.
Matt and Frank stopped moving entirely.
Matt remained stuck mid-sip, cup at his lips.
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