Lucius looked at Maria Hill for a long moment with the same smug smile that had irritated better people.
Then he leaned back against the metal chair as far as the restraints allowed and spoke in the tone of a man ordering coffee rather than facing a century in prison.
"I have some questions."
Hill sat still.
"First, what is your name and post. Second, where am I? Third, what exactly is this thing on my neck?"
Hill studied him with controlled patience. Most detainees opened with panic, anger, or bargaining. Noctis opened with administration. That told her two things. Either he was genuinely calm, or he was performing calm so hard it had become his personality.
She kept her hands on the file.
"Mr Noctis, you are facing potential prison time of well over one hundred years. Are you sure those are your priorities right now?"
Lucius's smile did not move.
"Oh, I am sure of several things right now," he replied. "For instance, the way your people took me. Window breach. Gas. Armoured men in my bedroom. Am I a terrorist now? Couldn't one of your lads knock and produce a warrant like civilisation had not collapsed?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"So, again. Name and post, location and that thing on my neck."
Hill understood exactly what he was doing.
He wanted the institution named out loud. He wanted ownership stated on record. He wanted every answer turned into future leverage.
She decided to oblige.
"You are at the Triskelion in Washington, D.C. I am Agent Maria Hill, Deputy Director-level authority within SHIELD."
She let the title sit a beat before continuing.
"The device on your neck is a mutant inhibitor. It is designed to suppress active abilities. Are there any other irrelevant questions you wish to ask?"
Lucius's smile broadened.
"Just one for now. You think I'm a mutant."
Hill gave him a flat look.
"We do not think, Mr Noctis. We are confident. Blood work was taken. We also had an enhanced confirmation through a separate channel. What we do not yet know is the full scope of your ability set."
Lucius blinked once, then laughed softly.
"Oh, I see." He shifted in the chair, wrists still fastened. "So not only did you illegally kidnap me, but you also drew blood without consent. Very progressive. What is next, organ harvesting? Do I wake up tomorrow missing a kidney and being told it was for national security?"
Hill did not answer.
Lucius leaned forward as far as he could.
"You throw me in a cell, wave around those charming fairy tale charges, tell me I am looking at a hundred years, and then what. You expect me to work for you. Give you potions. Build serums. Smile for the camera while your people go through my underwear drawer."
His voice sharpened by a fraction.
"Was it because of the extra fifteen per cent? Tell me it was, please. It will make my day. Show me on your body where it hurts you. Because if this whole amateur kidnapping was over a service surcharge, I am actually offended on your behalf."
Hill let the jab pass.
"Your house and vehicle are currently under lawful search authority," she replied. "And if we recover evidence of illicit production, trafficking of unapproved biological agents, or concealed assets, your legal position worsens."
Lucius's expression did not change.
"You will find nothing," he said. "Not in the house. Not in the car. Not in the walls. Not under the bed. You can tear the floorboards up if it helps morale."
He settled back again.
"I have nothing else to say. I want a lawyer, and I refuse to speak with your organisation again."
Hill closed the file without haste.
"Refusing to cooperate is your right. It is also a poor tactical choice."
Lucius gave her a bright, empty smile.
"It won't be the first."
Hill rose from her chair, gathered the file, and watched him for one last second. He looked relaxed. Too relaxed. He knew something they did not.
That bothered her more than the sarcasm.
She stepped to the door and knocked once. The guard outside opened it. Hill left without another word.
Lucius tracked the camera in the corner with his eyes after the door shut.
Then he smiled at it again.
-
In his office, Fury stood with his arms folded while Coulson stayed a half step back. Both of them were watching the camera feed of the interrogation. Maria Hill entered the observation room after a while.
No one spoke immediately.
Fury watched the feed for another two seconds, then hit mute.
"So," he asked.
Hill set the folder on the table.
"He is calm, hostile, and fully aware this is leverage," she replied. "He also wanted the institution named out loud, which suggests he is already thinking beyond detention."
"He asked about the collar first, I assume."
"His questions were simple. First," Hill corrected. "Who I was. Where he was. What the collar was. In that order."
Coulson rested a hand against the back of a chair.
"That means he's mapping power structure before responding to pressure," he said. "He wanted command identity, location, then capability restriction."
Fury's eye narrowed slightly.
"No. It means he's arrogant."
Coulson did not take the bait.
"It means both, sir."
Hill glanced at the notes.
"He did not react to the charges the way most people do. He did not bargain. There was no visible anxiety. He went straight to legitimacy and procedure."
"Because he knows the charges are a tool," Fury said.
"He knows we want something," Coulson replied. "And he knows prison is not the actual opening offer."
Fury turned from the monitor.
"Then let's stop pretending otherwise."
Hill folded her arms.
"You want the direct version."
"I want the useful version," Fury said. "He makes potions that outperform half our pharmaceutical programmes, he reads people well enough to catch field deception, and now he is sitting in our holding cell acting as we invited him to a tax seminar. I'm out of patience."
Coulson spoke carefully.
"With respect, sir, the patience problem is ours, not his. We took him without a warrant he would recognise as legitimate, ran a black search on his home, drew blood without permission, and then presented criminal charges as leverage. He is not going to respond well to moral language after that."
Fury gave him a hard look.
"I didn't ask for moral language."
"No, sir," Coulson replied. "You asked for control."
Hill stepped in before the room tightened further.
"We have two problems," she said. "One, he knows we want a service arrangement. Two, we do not yet know what his powers are, other than healing and possible telepathy. There is something wrong with him."
Fury looked at her.
"Wrong how?"
"He is too comfortable," Hill replied. "Either he is gambling, or the collar is doing less than we think. The results of the blood work will take time. But he might be a mutant or an enhanced."
That landed.
Coulson shifted slightly.
"The two guards in holding had seizures after he regained consciousness. We still do not know why."
Fury's jaw hardened.
"You think he did it."
"I think the timing is too convenient," Hill said.
Coulson kept his tone even.
"If he can project or penetrate without visible strain, then the collar may only be suppressing one expression of his abilities, not the total set."
Fury moved back to the screen and looked at Lucius sitting alone in the interrogation room.
"He said we'd find nothing in the house."
Hill nodded once.
"Search teams are still turning it over."
Fury glanced at her.
"And."
"No production setup so far. No ingredient stock in suspicious quantities. No concealed lab space. No hidden refrigeration. No written formulas. And no cash sitting around. We estimate his earnings to be over two hundred million."
"Car."
"Nothing yet."
Fury let out a slow breath.
"Of course."
Coulson did not hide the faint edge in his voice.
"He has been operating under active surveillance for weeks. If he has lasted this long, he has already built around us."
Fury turned fully.
"What are you recommending?"
Coulson met his gaze.
"We stop selling this as a prosecution event and start treating it as a failed recruitment. If you want him to be useful, pressure alone will not get it done. He already thinks he's being extorted, and from his point of view, he's not entirely wrong."
Hill added, "He also asked for counsel immediately. That gives him procedural ground if we keep posturing as law enforcement."
Fury stared at both of them, then at the muted feed again.
Lucius sat in the chair with his wrists fixed to the table, smiling at a corner camera like a man already planning to redecorate the building.
"Fine," Fury said at last. "New approach."
Hill lifted her chin slightly.
"Define it."
Fury spoke without hesitation.
"No more legal recital. No more pretending this is about public safety. We give him the real offer. Protection, resources, federal insulation, and a controlled market for the potions."
Coulson's expression did not change, but the room eased by a degree.
"And if he refuses."
Fury answered immediately.
"Then Hill was right the first time. We make prison feel real enough that cooperation starts to sound elegant."
Hill looked at the file, then at the screen.
"He is going to ask what we actually know."
"Then do not bluff unless you can afford the bill when he catches it," Fury said.
That, at least, made Coulson almost smile.
Hill picked up the folder again.
"I'll go back in."
Fury stopped her with a look.
"No. Not yet."
She paused.
Fury's voice dropped.
"Let him sit. Let him think he won the first round. Men like him get sloppy when they believe they are the smartest person in the room."
The camera feed continued to blink.
Lucius sat alone in the room, wrists restrained, collar in place, smiling at nothing.
That smile bothered all three of them for different reasons.