The chaos of the Stark Expo was fading behind him.
Ren walked down the access road, leaving the screams and the sirens in the distance. The air here was cooler, though it still smelled of ozone and burning jet fuel.
He checked his suit. It was a disaster. The Italian silk was scorched, stained with hydraulic oil, and punctured by three 20mm rounds. To the average observer, he looked like a victim of a terrorist attack. To a trained eye, he looked like something much worse: a survivor who hadn't bled.
Ren adjusted his cufflinks. They were the only part of his outfit that remained pristine.
"Inefficient," he muttered. "I need materials that can keep up with the evolution."
He wasn't tired. The [ INFINITE ENGINE ] hummed silently within his cells, a perpetual fusion reactor that negated the concept of fatigue. He didn't need to rest. He didn't need to breathe hard. He was simply... bored.
He turned a corner, heading toward the parking structure.
Ren stopped.
He didn't stop because he heard something. His [ PHANTOM STEP ] made him silent, and the ambient noise of the city masked everything else. He stopped because the air displacement in the alleyway was wrong.
Someone was there. Someone very good at not being seen.
"You can come out," Ren said. His voice was calm, cutting through the shadows. "Your heart rate is 58 beats per minute. Controlled. Deliberate."
A figure stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.
She was stunning, in a way that was calculated to be disarming. Red hair, tight black tactical suit that left nothing to the imagination but covered everything vital. Her movements were fluid, like mercury.
Natalie Rushman. Or rather, Natasha Romanoff.
The Black Widow.
She held a Glock 26 in her right hand, kept low, not aimed but ready. Her eyes were narrow, scanning him. She was looking for injuries. She was looking for weakness.
She found none.
"You're the librarian," she said. Her voice was smooth, trained to extract information. "Ren."
Ren didn't look at the gun. He looked at her.
[ TARGET SCAN ]
» Subject: Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)
» Class: Peak Human (Assassin)
» Threat Level:Negligible.
» Equipment:
Glock 26 (9mm) - Ineffective.
Widow's Bite (40,000 Volts) - Annoyance.
Garrote Wire - Useless.
"I preferred you as the secretary," Ren said, continuing to walk. "The acting was substandard, but the coffee was decent."
He walked past her.
Natasha stepped into his path. It was a brave move. She had just watched him dismantle five tanks with his bare hands.
"Stop," she ordered. "Director Fury wants to speak with you."
Ren paused. He looked down at her. He was six foot two; she was five four. The physical difference was significant, but the biological difference was an abyss.
"I have a dinner reservation," Ren said. "At Le Bernardin. It took me three months to get the table. If I miss it, I will be displeased."
Natasha's grip on the pistol tightened slightly. "The Expo is a war zone. The restaurant is closed, Ren. Everyone has evacuated."
Ren sighed. A genuine, human sigh of disappointment.
"Civilian panic," he noted. "So inconvenient."
He looked at the pistol in her hand.
"Are you planning to use that?" Ren asked. "We both know the physics involved. A 9mm parabellum round delivers approximately 500 joules of energy. I just absorbed a kinetic missile impact rated at 500 megajoules."
He leaned in slightly.
"You are a logical woman, Natasha. Do the math."
Natasha didn't flinch. She was SHIELD's best for a reason. "I don't need to kill you. I just need to stall you."
She moved.
It was a distraction strike. A classic Red Room technique—feint with the left, tase with the right. She aimed the 'Widow's Bite' on her wrist at his neck, looking to overload his nervous system with 40,000 volts.
It was fast. Blur-speed.
But to Ren, it was underwater.
[ ABSOLUTE ANALYSIS ] dissected the movement before her muscles even fully contracted.
Trapezius engagement. Shift in center of gravity. Electrical discharge imminent.
Ren didn't block. He simply... arrived.
His hand was suddenly around her wrist. He didn't squeeze hard enough to crush—he wasn't a brute—but he applied enough pressure to lock the radius and ulna bones together, freezing her arm.
Crack.
The Widow's Bite sparked harmlessly into the air, missing him by inches.
Natasha's eyes went wide. She tried to pivot, to use his momentum against him, a Judo throw that could flip a man twice her size.
She pulled.
Ren didn't budge. He felt like a statue bolted to the earth. The [ HIGH DENSITY ] of his muscular structure meant he weighed nearly 400 pounds of condensed tissue.
"Bad leverage," Ren critiqued.
He released her wrist and lightly—almost gently—pushed her shoulder.
Natasha flew back. She skidded ten feet across the concrete, recovering instantly into a crouch, gun raised.
She was breathing hard. He hadn't even taken his hand out of his pocket.
"You fight like a spider," Ren observed. "Ambush. Poison. Webs. Effective against flies."
He straightened his tie, realizing it was a lost cause, and pulled it off, dropping it on the ground.
"But I am not a fly."
Headlights swept across the alley. A black SUV screeched to a halt, blocking the exit. The door opened.
A man stepped out. Long black leather trench coat. Eyepatch. An aura of authority that usually made generals nervous.
Nick Fury.
"Stand down, Agent Romanoff," Fury said. His one eye was fixed on Ren.
Natasha hesitated, then lowered her weapon. She stood up, brushing the dust from her suit, her eyes never leaving Ren.
Fury walked forward. He didn't look scared. He looked annoyed.
"You made a hell of a mess, kid," Fury said.
Ren looked at the Director of SHIELD.
[ TARGET SCAN ]
» Subject: Nick Fury
» Threat Level:Political Only.
» Status:Paranoid.
"I cleaned up your mess," Ren corrected. "Tony was playing in the sky. The police were dying. I simply optimized the battlefield."
Fury stopped five feet away. He looked at the holes in Ren's chest. He saw the skin underneath—smooth, unscarred, pale.
"Optimized," Fury repeated. "Is that what we're calling it? You tore a Hammer Drone apart like it was made of wet tissue paper. My analysts are telling me you headed a bunker-buster missile."
"It was a deflection," Ren clarified. "Angles. Geometry. Basic physics."
"There's nothing basic about you." Fury crossed his arms. "Who are you working for? Hydra? AIM? Ten Rings?"
Ren laughed. It was a short, cold sound.
"I'm a librarian, Nicholas. I work for the New York Public Library system. I organize information."
"Librarians don't have skin harder than diamond," Fury snapped. "I want to know what you are. And I want to know why I shouldn't bury you in a hole so deep the sunlight turns into a myth."
Ren checked his watch again. The dinner reservation was definitely gone now.
"Hunger," Ren said. "That is the answer."
Fury frowned. "Excuse me?"
"Evolution is fueled by consumption," Ren explained. "To grow, one must consume. Knowledge. Energy. Experience. I am not working for anyone, Director. I am simply... eating."
Ren stepped forward. Natasha tensed, her finger tightening on the trigger.
Ren walked right up to Fury. He looked the spy master in the eye.
"You are building a team," Ren said softly. "The Avengers Initiative."
Fury froze. His heart rate spiked. How does he know that? That file is Level 10 clearance.
"I'm not interested in joining your boy band," Ren continued. "I don't take orders. I don't wear spandex. And I certainly don't report to a government that relies on committee meetings to decide who to save."
Ren walked past Fury, heading toward the street.
"But," Ren added, stopping for a moment. "I do not mind... consulting."
"Consulting," Fury grunted, turning around. "And what's your price? Money? Power?"
Ren looked back. The streetlights reflected in his eyes, making them look like cold, polished glass.
"Access," Ren said.
"Access to what?"
"Everything," Ren said. "The SHIELD archives. The artifacts you confiscate. The alien technology you hide in the basement. I want to read your books, Nicholas."
Fury narrowed his eye. "That's dangerous knowledge."
"I am a dangerous man."
Ren turned and walked away into the night.
"Call me when you find something interesting," Ren called out. "Or when an alien god lands in New Mexico. I've always wanted to study Asgardian biology."
Fury watched him go. He didn't order Natasha to shoot. He knew it wouldn't work.
"Sir," Natasha said, walking up to Fury. "He knows about Thor. He knows about the Initiative."
"I know," Fury said grimly. "He knows everything."
"What do we do?"
Fury pulled out his secure phone.
"We put him on the Index," Fury said. "Class Alpha. Surveillance only. Do not engage."
"And the offer?" Natasha asked. "He wants access to the archives."
Fury watched the darkness where Ren had vanished.
"Give it to him," Fury said.
Natasha looked shocked. "Sir?"
"He's not a soldier, Romanoff," Fury said, turning back to the SUV. "He's a predator. And you don't starve a predator. You feed it... so it doesn't eat you."
[ STATUS UPDATE ]
» NEW CONNECTION ESTABLISHED:[ SHIELD DATABASE ]
Access Level:Pending...
Potential Loot:Tesseract (Space Stone), Scepter (Mind Stone), Destroyer Armor.
» CURRENT OBJECTIVE:[ THE GRIND ]
Status:Complete.
Next Target:Genetic Optimization.
[ BIOLOGICAL REPORT ]
» ENERGY RESERVES:[ 100% ] (Infinite Engine Active)
» STRESS LEVEL:[ 0% ]
» EVOLUTION PROGRESS:[ TIER 2.1 PENDING... ]