Marvel: The Devil’s Reign

The music pulsed through the club like a living entity, wrapping itself around the bodies swaying in hypnotic unison. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and unspoken desires. Shadows flickered against the neon lights, painting silhouettes of lust and recklessness across the walls.

At the bar's entrance, a man stepped in, his posture exuding quiet dominance. His dark attire contrasted sharply against the chaos of colors within the club. JM moved with the precision of a predator, each step measured and assured, his gaze scanning the room like a king surveying his territory.

A drunken woman, too lost in the moment, swayed into him. She stumbled but managed to regain her footing, blinking up at him with glassy eyes. "Oh… I'm sorry, are you okay?" she slurred.

JM tilted his head slightly, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows across his sharp features. He said nothing at first, merely watching her with an unreadable expression before nodding. "I'm fine."

The woman's eyes roamed over him, appreciation flaring in her gaze. "You here alone?" she asked, licking her lips.

JM's gaze flicked to the glowing interface hovering just above his shoulder—his System. It pulsed with soft, unearthly light, visible only to him. He smirked. "Not exactly."

The woman chuckled, though the response confused her. "Well, if you ever need company…" She slipped a napkin with her number onto the bar counter and sauntered away.

JM ignored it.

[Mission Update: Primary Target Located]

His System's voice was cool and artificial, yet vaguely amused. JM sighed, rubbing his temple. "Where?"

[VIP Lounge, second floor. Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, is currently intoxicated.]

JM's brows lifted slightly. He hadn't expected his mission to start with an Avenger, let alone him.

Steve Rogers—America's golden boy, the symbol of righteousness, the man with a heart too big for his own good. And tonight, apparently, the man who would become JM's first conquest.

"System, what's the objective?" JM asked, making his way to the staircase.

[Gain Steve Rogers' unwavering loyalty and submission. Ultimate goal: 100% emotional and physical dependence.]

JM let out a low whistle. "You don't ask for much, do you?"

[Failure to comply will result in termination of host's current existence.]

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I got it."

Pushing open the door to the VIP section, JM was greeted by the sight of several high-profile individuals lounging around with expensive drinks in hand. But his focus zeroed in on one person slumped on the couch.

Steve Rogers.

Even in his disheveled state, he was breathtaking. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, exposing a tantalizing view of his collarbone. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, golden hair tousled, making him look almost vulnerable.

JM's lips curved into a smirk. Vulnerable was his favorite state for a target.

He stepped closer, his presence cutting through the chatter. The people around Steve quieted, their eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of intimidation. No one quite knew who JM was, but they could feel it—the weight of something dangerous coiling beneath his skin.

Steve blinked up at him, dazed and confused. His blue eyes were slightly unfocused, yet recognition flickered when they landed on JM. "Who…?"

JM crouched beside him, fingers lightly grazing Steve's jaw, tilting it up. His voice dropped to a whisper, silk and steel entwined.

"You called me something just now," JM murmured, his gaze trapping Steve's. "What was it?"

Steve's lips parted, a breath catching in his throat. His pupils dilated slightly as the warmth of JM's touch grounded him.

"…Cen…Cen…" he whispered drunkenly, mistaking JM for someone else.

The room tensed. Several people glanced at each other, anticipating a scene. Calling another person's name in front of the man who just walked in like he owned the place? Bold.

But JM didn't react the way they expected.

Instead, he chuckled. Low. Amused. Dangerous.

"Well now…" His thumb brushed over Steve's lower lip, feeling the slight hitch in the super soldier's breath. "That's not my name."

Steve shivered under his touch, his intoxicated mind struggling to grasp the situation. "I…"

JM leaned in, his lips just a breath away from Steve's ear. "But don't worry, sweetheart," he murmured, voice laced with dark promise. "By the time I'm done with you… you won't remember anyone else's name but mine."

The room remained silent, every occupant too entranced—or too afraid—to interfere.

JM straightened, glancing at the others with a smirk before turning back to Steve, extending a hand. "Come on, Captain. Let's get you home."

Steve hesitated but eventually placed his hand in JM's, warmth seeping between their palms.

JM's System chimed softly in his ear.

[Mission Progress: 5%]

He smirked.

This was going to be fun.