Luke stood in the middle of the women's clothing section, suppressing another yawn as his gaze drifted across racks of fabric he had no opinion about.
He had fought gods. Survived cosmic wars, dimensional disasters, and beings that could erase realities with a single thought.
Yet somehow, spending hours trailing women through clothing stores had carved out a permanent place among the greatest tests of his endurance.
"How do I look?"
Wanda stepped out of her changing room in a simple red outfit that fit her perfectly — nothing flashy, just clean lines that highlighted her without trying to. Luke glanced up and gave her an immediate thumbs up.
"Yeah, you're the most beautiful woman here."
Wanda studied her reflection, tilting her head slightly. "I think it's too bright. I'll try something lighter." She disappeared back inside before he could respond.
Personally, Luke thought it looked fine — better than fine, actually. But after years of hard-earned experience, he knew well enough to keep that to himself.
Then, from the corner of his eye, one of the other changing room doors began to move.
He was already in front of it by the time he registered which one it was.
The door swung open.
He stared. Then pressed two fingers against his forehead and rubbed slowly.
"What the hell are you wearing?"
Esdeath stood in the doorway in a black dominatrix outfit — structured, fitted, leaving very little to the imagination.
The kind of thing that belonged behind a closed door in a private setting, not under the harsh white lighting of a shopping mall with a family of four browsing cardigans twelve feet away.
She glanced down at herself with complete innocence, then turned slightly as though presenting the outfit for formal review.
"What?" she asked. "I thought you liked this."
The problem was never that he disliked it. That was precisely the issue. She had somehow found that specific outfit in a women's clothing store and decided a public mall was a perfectly reasonable place to try it on, with no apparent awareness of — or interest in — the context around her.
Esdeath caught the direction of his gaze and smiled, making no effort to be subtle about it.
Luke let out a long breath through his nose. He was definitely affected — that much was simply a fact. But this was not the time, and it was very much not the place.
"That belongs in a bedroom," he said. "Not here."
The moment those words left his mouth, her smile shifted into something far more deliberate. Luke recognized the look half a second too late.
She grabbed his arm, pulled him back through the doorway, and the lock clicked shut behind them before he finished processing what was happening.
Her arms found their way around his neck almost immediately. The structured black fabric pressed against his chest as she leaned in close.
"Why don't we make it one?"
The walls shifted. The mirror dissolved. Furniture appeared with casual ease — a bed, warm lighting, the faint texture of a rug underfoot — and within seconds the narrow changing room had become a perfectly functional bedroom, comfortable and convincing and utterly out of place inside a shopping mall.
Luke looked around slowly, then let out a quiet sound that was almost a laugh. He had to give her that much. Esdeath had taken to Reality Domination at a pace that defied reason.
Most people spent years fumbling through the first stages, treating every small adjustment like defusing a bomb. Esdeath used it the way other people used a light switch — without hesitation, without effort.
"That's actually impressive," he admitted.
She looked extraordinarily pleased with that.
Unfortunately for her, he still knew exactly where they were.
"As much as I'd love to," he said, glancing toward the wall separating them from the rest of the group, "everyone else is still out there."
The bedroom dissolved. The changing room snapped back around them — narrow walls, commercial lighting, the black outfit still very much present.
Esdeath clicked her tongue. Luke slipped back out through the door before she had the chance to revise her approach.
He paused just outside and glanced back once — still in the black dominatrix outfit, still wearing that expression, still entirely unbothered.
Then raised his thumb. "Five-star rating."
As Luke wandered through the mall, he found himself staring at the seemingly endless selection of women's clothing displayed throughout the stores.
The more he looked, the more convinced he became that men had gotten the short end of the stick.
Women's fashion had everything—different styles, colors, cuts, and designs. Entire sections were dedicated to outfits that served practically the same purpose yet somehow looked completely different from one another.
Meanwhile, men had spent centuries inventing new ways to wear pants and shirts.
Maybe a jacket if they were feeling particularly adventurous.
Luke glanced at a display containing dozens of outfits and shook his head.
No matter the era, men always seemed to end up wearing some variation of pants and a shirt in slightly different colors.
The difference was honestly depressing.
Then his expression shifted.
A faint disturbance rippled through reality.
His gaze slowly turned south.
"Hmmm... a Celestial."
Deep beneath the planet, something had begun to wake.
Ancient. Massive. Powerful enough to destroy Earth simply by being born.
Luke let out a long sigh.
"Why do problems keep showing up?"
Unfortunately, he already knew the answer.
This was Marvel.
Disasters happened here with alarming regularity. Alien invasions, rogue AIs, mad titans, dimensional incidents, and now a Celestial deciding it was finally time to emerge.
At this point, it was genuinely impressive that Earth was still standing.
He glanced back toward the changing rooms where the others were still shopping.
Part of him wanted to ignore it.
Unfortunately, if the Celestial finished waking up, there wouldn't be a mall left to come back to.
There wouldn't be an Earth either.
Which was mildly inconvenient.
Rubbing his forehead, Luke sighed again.
"Looks like I need to deal with that before the planet explodes."
*****
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