Marvelous Mutations

Luke had no intention of handing over the assassin to anyone, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not the police, not anyone.

In his mind, he already had a solution.

"Sharon, let him go," he said calmly.

Sharon blinked, confused.

Let him go?

What kind of joke was that?

This man had just tried to kill Luke, was he really suggesting they let him walk out?

She stared at him, full of silent questions. But Luke only offered a small, serene smile and nodded.

After a brief pause, Sharon reluctantly released her grip on the assassin's arm.

She didn't understand, but she was Luke's assistant now. If this was his decision, she had no choice but to trust him.

The male assassin stood up in surprise. He hadn't expected to be released so easily. His right arm hung awkwardly, dislocated from Sharon's earlier takedown, but it didn't affect his ability to walk.

He glanced at Luke, then at the two women standing guard.

No one stopped him.

So he turned, warily making his way toward the exit. He didn't even spare a look at his injured teammate, still groaning on the floor.

He only cared about saving himself.

Wanda and Sharon exchanged glances, both unsure what Luke was playing at. Wanda's hands glowed faintly red, just in case. Sharon's posture was tense, ready to pounce if things went sideways.

But Luke remained still, composed, like he was watching a movie he'd already seen before.

Then.

The Lucky Cat's eyes lit up behind the counter with a faint red glint.

The assassin suddenly paused mid-step.

He turned slowly, his eyes locking on a shelf not far from the entrance.

And there, among cleaning sponges, plastic wrap, and potato chips, was a single fruit knife.

A very ordinary, plastic-handled fruit knife.

But to the assassin's eyes, it practically shimmered.

His breath caught in his throat. That blade, its curve, its balance, its aura...

This was it. The dagger of daggers.

He was convinced that his failure today wasn't because of bad luck or poor planning, it was his equipment.

If he had this knife, he wouldn't fail next time.

Why should he leave empty-handed, when such a divine weapon was right there, waiting for him?

Slowly, reverently, he stepped forward, picked it up with both hands as if lifting Excalibur.

"I want to buy this extraordinary dagger," he said, eyes gleaming. "How much? Money isn't a problem!"

…

Wanda's jaw dropped. Sharon blinked in disbelief.

What… was happening?

The man had been this close to escaping, and now he was mooning over a fruit knife?

Had he lost his mind?

Sharon glanced at Luke, a cold shiver ran down her spine.

This wasn't hypnosis. This was something else, something much weirder.

Luke stepped forward, unbothered by the "superb dagger" the assassin now clutched, not afraid at all that he would suddenly try to kill him.

He smiled lightly. "That's not an easy weapon to purchase," he said, raising one finger. "Ten thousand dollars... plus the name of your employer."

Sharon instinctively took a step back.

A five-dollar knife. For ten thousand dollars. Plus information on the one who wanted him dead?

This wasn't just an overpriced store. This was highway robbery in grocery store form.

It was a scam so bold, it bordered on insanity.

Wanda, meanwhile, looked less surprised. She'd just unlocked world-bending powers and had seen weird stuff happening in the store repeatedly. Compared to all that, a cursed fruit knife that charmed assassins was almost normal.

The assassin stood frozen, expression twisted in internal agony.

Ten thousand dollars? Easy.

He'd paid more for forged passports.

He'd pay even a million for such a marvelous weapon.

But… revealing his employer's name?

That was a line even he dared not cross.

The organization's punishment would be swift and merciless, not just for him, but for everyone he'd ever met.

Still… the knife.

His hand trembled as he looked at it.

He was at war with himself. But the devil on his shoulder had backup: Luke Yale.

"I'll give you three seconds," Luke said gently. "Or the dagger goes off sale."

He held up three fingers. The countdown began.

"Three."

The assassin gritted his teeth. His body twitched with tension.

"Two."

He grabbed fistfuls of his own hair, tugging as if to physically pull out the temptation.

"One…"

…