Marvel: Father of Superheroes

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******

Remy LeBeau might be a gambler and occasionally dabble in thievery, but he was a man who valued his promises. Otherwise, with nothing else to redeem him, Mike wouldn't be sitting here, sharing drinks with him.

"A group, huh?"

Mike immediately thought of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Remy LeBeau raised an eyebrow in surprise and asked, "Have they been bothering you too?"

"Not at all," Mike replied with a smirk of pride. "I've been content living my life as a humble farmer. Why would they bother paying attention to me?"

Remy gave Mike a look full of envy.

Switching the subject, Mike asked, "By the way, what about Logan? Weren't you two together in Las Vegas?"

"He stayed there for half a year and then left," Remy said, taking a sip of his drink. "You know how wolves are—they never stay in one place for too long."

Unless, of course, they've found a place they truly call home.

"In any case, the last time I contacted him was before I got stuck with this cursed thing," Remy said, glaring at the bracelet on his wrist with disdain. "I thought he might have reached out to you."

Mike shook his head.

Suddenly, a phone started ringing in Remy's pocket.

Frowning at the caller ID, Remy picked up the call with visible annoyance.

"Yes, I did it! Got it! I won't overstep! Damn it! What, am I supposed to just stand by and watch them slaughter those poor bastards?"

"What? You're coming to find me?"

"Another damn mission, huh?"

Cursing, Remy hung up and looked at Mike with a helpless expression. "Can't even enjoy a drink in peace."

"I'll head out. Let's stay in touch," Mike said, not wanting to risk running into anyone from S.H.I.E.L.D. They'd already exchanged contact information anyway.

As Mike got up, Remy called out loudly, "Don't forget to pay the bill!"

Smiling, Mike gestured at Remy with a pointed finger, walked to the bar, settled the tab, and even ordered another bottle of liquor for his companion. Then he turned and left the bar.

Outside, as he stepped into the evening air, Mike glanced at the setting sun and murmured, "Better get home quickly."

Just then, a shadow stretched across the ground, momentarily darkening his view.

Looking up, Mike saw a tall, dark-skinned man in a black suit with a buzz cut walking toward the bar. The two brushed past each other, and the man entered the bar.

Once the man disappeared inside, Mike couldn't help but chuckle.

It was Nick Fury—*with both eyes still intact!*

When Mike had met Coulson earlier, he'd wondered when he might run into the future director of S.H.I.E.L.D. But he hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

And here he was, Nick Fury with a full head of hair—looking rather unimpressive.

Still, there was a slyness about him.

The phone call earlier? Fury had already been nearby, possibly right outside the bar.

If Mike had lingered just a bit longer, Fury would've caught him sitting with Remy.

That would've undoubtedly led to an investigation.

Of course, Mike could always erase Fury's memory of the encounter if necessary.

"Crafty bastard," Mike muttered under his breath, climbing into his new car and speeding away.

---

Inside the bar, Remy LeBeau had just watched Mike leave when the man responsible for overseeing him—and assigning him missions—walked in.

"Remy, you seem to be in a good mood today."

"Who says that? Did I tell you that? And please, call me Mr. LeBeau."

Unfazed, Nick Fury replied, "People in a good mood always meet up with friends for drinks."

As he spoke, Fury sat across from Remy, picked up the glass Mike had just used, turned it over onto the table, and asked the bartender for a new one. After pouring himself a drink, Fury glanced around and said, "So, where's your friend?"

"What friend? There's no friend," Remy replied flatly. "Just get to the point. Why are you here?"

Fury took a sip of his drink and commented, "Not bad."

Seeing the subtle twitch in Remy's eye, Fury smirked and said, "Relax. No new missions. I just need some information."

"Oh?"

"About Hellfire."

"Then you've come to the wrong guy. I'm not familiar with them."

Swirling his glass, the ice clinking softly against the sides, Remy smirked, his expression full of mockery.

"But you can still share some useful intel, can't you?" Fury pressed.

Nick Fury pressed, "We have intel suggesting they're plotting something. Do you have any information about it?"

"I don't know," Remy LeBeau said, shaking his wrist as if to emphasize. "You guys are tracking me, aren't you? If I knew something, wouldn't you already know?"

"If you come across any useful information, let us know," Nick Fury replied, lowering his head slightly. His dark face seemed to merge with the surrounding shadows, making his expression unreadable. "If they succeed in whatever they're planning, a lot of people will die."

Remy paused, his swirling glass of liquor coming to a stop. He squinted, trying to discern Fury's expression, but all he could see was darkness.

After a moment of silence, he said, "I've heard there's discord within Hellfire. The White King and Black King can't see eye to eye."

Fury's eyes lit up. "That's important information. Thank you."

Remy frowned. "You said people might die. What exactly are they planning?"

"How would I know?" Fury replied with a grin, lifting his head.

Seeing the smug look on Fury's face, Remy immediately realized the man had been bluffing earlier. Snorting, he said, "If you're done here, get lost."

Fury chuckled, raising the glass on the table and taking a sip. "We've known each other for so long, and you're still this unfriendly."

Looking at the bottle of liquor, Fury poured himself another drink. "Well, I've got nothing better to do, and you've got no one to drink with."

With a wink, he added, "A perfect match!"

Remy shot him a deep look and said, "You're even more shameless than I am."

"Thank you!" Fury said without missing a beat, his grin widening. "See? We've found some common ground. Now we can have a proper chat."

"…"

---

A month later, the kids' summer vacation came to an end.

"Ding ding ding!"

The loud ringing of an alarm echoed in the room as Erik reached out and crushed it with his hand.

Groggily, he blinked at the now-shattered alarm clock, then let out a loud cry.

"Ahhh!"

Staring at the pile of broken pieces, Erik's face twisted in anguish.

That alarm clock had been brand new, and he'd paid for it out of his allowance.

Now, with it destroyed, his allowance was going to take another hit.

Hearing his scream, Charles angrily sat up in bed, ready to challenge Erik despite being no match for him. But when he saw the broken clock, he burst into laughter instead.

Erik shot him a murderous glare, causing Charles to promptly shut his mouth.

"Heh heh!"

With a sheepish grin, Charles quickly got dressed and said, "It's the first day of the new term. We can't be late for school."

"I know!" Erik growled, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't need you to remind me."

The two of them hurriedly dressed, raced to wash up, and ate breakfast under Mike's watchful eye. Then, along with Clark, they rode their bicycles toward town.

At the crossroads, where Clark headed off toward his middle school, Erik and Charles yelled out a playful goodbye. They then raced each other on their bikes, shouting and laughing as they sped toward their school.

(End of Chapter)