Solomon in Marvel

The deafening emergency evacuation alarm blared throughout the entire Triskelion complex, making every window tremble.

Brock Rumlow cursed whoever designed the alarm—it sounded just like sharp claws raking across glass, a piercing, grating noise that drilled straight into the skull. It was relentless, cutting through everything like a knife, sending shivers down his spine. He was making his way to regroup with his strike team.

"All personnel, proceed to designated safe zones," the automated voice broadcasted through the loudspeakers, adding to the chaos. "All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, assemble at the D-Zone rally point."

"Commander," a voice crackled through his earpiece. "The council has been breached."

"Repeat, command center?" Rumlow pressed his earpiece, disbelief creeping into his voice. Alexander Pierce had already initiated the biological security protocols—how the hell had the council chamber been compromised? But when his men reported that Black Widow was up there, it suddenly made sense.

He knew what Natasha Romanoff was capable of. For a Level 10 agent, breaking into the council was hardly surprising.

Meanwhile, Maria Hill, overseeing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s command center, watched through security cameras as Rumlow made his way upstairs, weapon in hand. There were only three elevators with direct access to the council chamber. One had its cables severed by Captain America's shield and was now jammed in the elevator shaft by an emergency brake. Another was under S.H.I.E.L.D. control. The last one, located beyond the combat zone, was Rumlow's only option.

Hill thought for a few seconds before deciding to send Robert Gonzales, who had just helped S.H.I.E.L.D. agents reclaim several key areas, to intercept Brock Rumlow. She could only hope they'd make it in time.

Unfortunately, Gonzales came back with bad news—The Winter Soldier had appeared on the Quinjet landing pad. Their pilots and ground crew had taken casualties while trying to seize the Quinjets. They didn't have enough manpower.

The situation was spiraling out of control.

Hill clenched her jaw, a wave of heat creeping up her spine. The sudden reappearance of the Winter Soldier, actively attempting to seize a Quinjet, made his intentions painfully clear—he was here to stop Solomon from replacing the Blade Server chip.

She immediately dialed Steve Rogers.

"Captain Rogers, we need you. The Winter Soldier is here," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos. She quickly relayed Bucky Barnes' position and status.

"Copy that!" Captain America bolted toward the edge of the Helicarrier.

"Sam, I need a ride!"

Just before the Hydra strike team could fire a recoilless rifle at him, Rogers leaped off the Helicarrier, leaving the explosion far behind. Falcon dove at full speed, wind howling in his ears. This was why he loved flying—the sheer adrenaline of freefall, the exhilarating push of his jetpack wings—it was a rush like no other.

But the Helicarrier was still too low. The altitude was barely within the range for HALO jumps.

Falcon pushed his engines to their limit, finally catching Rogers just a hundred feet above the ground.

Maria Hill let out a breath of relief. Now, she needed to know what was happening inside the council chamber.

Inside the Secretary-General's Office…

"Wait."

Just as Black Widow was about to press the release button, a hand gripped her wrist.

Only now did the council members realize there was someone else in the room—someone they had never seen before.

"You can publish those files," the man said, his tone casual. "But are you sure my information isn't in there? I'd really hate to be harassed. You do know how bad my temper can get."

"Why are you here, Solomon?"

Nick Fury's eye widened in shock—hell, even his bad eye nearly bulged out. "Aren't you supposed to be on the Helicarrier installing the chip?"

Then, as a horrible realization dawned on him, he demanded, "Tell me—who are you?"

"I am Solomon Damonet. The one replacing the chip on the Helicarrier is just an alchemic puppet I made from Scandinavian snow."

Solomon released Natasha Romanoff's wrist and flashed an apologetic smile. "Relax, I just needed to confirm something."

"Solomon Damonet!"

Despite having two guns pointed at his head, Alexander Pierce stepped toward the sorcerer.

Tall, clad in a tailored black suit, his hair neatly combed, his polished leather shoes gleaming under the lights—Solomon exuded an aura of elite sophistication. As a former Ivy League graduate himself, Pierce immediately recognized that air of wealth and prestige.

"You're the first sorcerer we've ever met," he continued. "And you were one of the most remarkable individuals during the Battle of New York."

With all his contingencies falling apart, Pierce seemed to regard Solomon as his last hope. His high-level clearance had granted him access to Solomon's battlefield record. Outside of Thor, no one had been able to stop him.

"It seems we had some… misunderstandings in the past," Pierce said smoothly. "But I believe you can see reason. After all, you refused to join the Avengers."

"I won't lie—I do hate the idea of lone-wolf heroics," Solomon admitted. "I've read Arnim Zola's algorithm. And in some ways, your plan does make some sense for the U.S.—eliminating capitalists and politicians, breaking the federalist system, establishing an authoritarian regime to maximize efficiency, eradicating poverty and uneducated populations—especially with this younger generation, who've been spoon-fed nothing but feel-good education. Some of them don't even know who won World War II. They're just dead weight to society."

Fury instinctively tucked his hand into his coat. Even the Chinese council member hesitated, debating whether to aim his gun at Solomon instead.

"But once you've established your global order, brought peace to Earth," Solomon asked, "what then? Would you turn your gaze to the stars?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Pierce replied with a grin. "The alien invasions of New York and London proved that humanity isn't alone. Right now, Earth is powerless against extraterrestrial threats. We can't rely on the Avengers—you must see that."

"Solomon, listen to me—"

Fury tried to interject, but the sorcerer simply wagged a finger at him.

"Kamar-Taj doesn't concern itself with mortal politics," Solomon stated. "As long as humanity's existence isn't threatened by angels, demons, or interdimensional entities, who governs human society is irrelevant. I only got involved in this because of our friendship, Nick Fury.

"Even though you let those Skrull bastards onto Earth, you've still stood on the side of humanity. That's the only reason I haven't killed you."

Solomon's hand rested on the hilt of his blade, the weight of the black leather belt hanging at his waist. In that moment, the balance of power inside the Secretary-General's office shifted.

Fury was forced to admit—he hadn't anticipated this.

He shot Black Widow a quick look. Romanoff lowered her head and resumed her task, deleting Solomon's records from the system.

If that was the price of keeping him out of this mess, then so be it. The files were only low-level classified information. The real critical data—Fury had never stored that in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s servers. He'd made sure of that long before he hired pirates to attack the Lemurian Star.

The former S.H.I.E.L.D. Director needed to shut this down before the conversation took an unpredictable turn.

"Solomon, you're on Hydra's kill list," Fury said, trying to buy time. "You're young. You don't understand Hydra's crimes. They don't care about humanity—they only care about power."

Solomon's lips curled into a smirk, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

"Oh, I know," he said.

"I understand Hydra."

"Because I am Hydra."

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