The man in the suit didn't rush me.
That alone told me he was dangerous.
"Mind if I ask you a few questions?" he said, hands loose at his sides, posture relaxed in a way that felt practiced.
I glanced past him.
The crowd had thinned. Not all at once. Not dramatically. People simply found reasons to leave. A woman checked her watch and frowned. A man answered a phone call that hadn't rung. A couple drifted down the sidewalk like they'd forgotten why they stopped.
A few stayed.
They stood farther back now.
Too far.
"That depends," I said. "On the questions."
He smiled faintly. "That's usually how it works."
He didn't show a badge. Didn't state authority. He didn't need to.
"You don't look injured," he said.
"I wasn't planning on being," I replied.
"Most people don't plan for impacts," he said calmly.
I shrugged. "Guess I'm an optimist."
His eyes flicked to the cracked concrete behind me. Then to the scorch marks. Then back to my face.
"Do you remember how you got here?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
The thought didn't vanish. It slid.
Like trying to grab something that had already been moved.
"I remember being somewhere else," I said carefully. "I just can't tell you where."
He nodded once, as if that confirmed something.
"Do you usually have trouble remembering where you've been?"
"No," I said. "I usually have trouble remembering where I'm going."
That earned a quiet exhale from him. Not a laugh. More like acknowledgment.
"Do you have any identification?" he asked.
I checked my pockets.
Empty.
That felt wrong in a way I couldn't explain.
"I did," I said. "I think."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"That's interesting," he said. "We've been trying to find you."
"Have you?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "And no."
He turned just enough for me to notice what I'd missed.
Two men near the end of the block pretending to argue about directions. A woman leaning against a lamppost, eyes tracking the street instead of her phone. Another man standing too still beside a parked car.
None of them looked at me directly.
All of them were watching.
"When someone shows up where they shouldn't," the man continued, "there's usually a trail. Cameras. Paperwork. Someone asking questions."
"And I don't have one," I said.
"You have pieces," he replied. "They just don't connect."
A voice rose from behind the loose perimeter.
"Hey," someone called. "Is everything alright over there?"
One of the men by the car shifted, blocking the line of sight without touching the speaker.
"It's fine," he said easily. "Utility issue."
The answer satisfied the questioner more than it should have.
They walked away.
I felt a pressure in my ears.
Not sound.
Absence.
[Conceptual stabilization in progress.]
My head throbbed.
The man noticed immediately. "You alright?"
"I don't like crowds," I said.
"That's convenient," he replied.
The street felt narrower now. Not physically. Logistically. Like choices were being removed one by one.
"What happens next?" I asked.
"That depends," he said. "On whether you feel like cooperating."
"And if I don't?"
He studied me for a moment.
"Then I file you as a problem," he said. "And problems tend to get solved."
I swallowed.
Before I could respond, the world tilted.
Not my vision.
My sense of placement.
The air thinned. Noise softened. Colors dulled at the edges.
[Relocation request detected.][Status: denied.][Cooldown active.]
Pain lanced behind my eyes.
I staggered, catching myself on the lamppost.
He moved instantly, steadying me without gripping.
"Easy," he said. "Deep breath."
"I'm fine," I said too quickly.
I wasn't.
For half a second, I'd felt something vast and procedural push back against me.
Not anger.
Constraint.
[Marvel narrative ownership confirmed.][Exclusive existence enforced.]
My heart hammered.
"Here's what I'm going to do," he said quietly. "I'm going to ask you to come with us. Somewhere private. Somewhere safe."
"And if I say no?" I asked.
"Then we'll keep talking right here," he said. "And the street will keep getting emptier."
I looked around.
He wasn't wrong.
The city was still there.
It just didn't want to look at me anymore.
"I don't know who you are," I said.
He paused.
Then smiled, small and polite.
"My name's Phil," he said. "Phil Coulson."
I opened my mouth.
The answer hovered on the tip of my tongue.
Then slipped.
[Identity anchor unstable.]
I closed my mouth again.
"I'll walk," I said. "But I'm not getting in a van."
Coulson nodded. "That's reasonable."
He gestured down the street.
"After you."
We didn't go far.
The café was half a block down, tucked between a bookstore and a closed tailor shop. Warm light glowed through the windows. A chalkboard menu leaned crooked by the door.
Coulson held it open for me.
The bell rang as we stepped inside.
The sound felt louder than it should've.
The place smelled like coffee and sugar and something burnt that had been forgotten on a hot plate. A barista glanced up, smiled automatically, then hesitated like she'd lost the thread of the moment.
We took a table near the window.
Public enough to be safe.
"That your idea," I asked, nodding around us, "or theirs?"
"I like to talk where people can hear us," Coulson said.
"They're not really hearing," I replied.
He studied the room. "No. They aren't."
A couple at the counter finished their drinks faster than necessary and left.
Two tables over, a man shut his laptop, frowned at the screen, and stood.
I felt it again.
That subtle pressure.
Like the room was being edited.
[Local narrative compression detected.]
I pressed my fingers into the tabletop.
"You see that too," I said.
"I see patterns," Coulson replied. "This one's new."
The barista brought two coffees without asking. Set them down. Blinked. Walked away without collecting payment.
"That's not normal," I said.
"No," Coulson agreed. "But neither are you."
I took a sip.
The coffee tasted fine.
Too fine.
Like it had always been there.
"Do you think I'm doing this?" I asked.
Coulson tilted his head. "Are you?"
"I don't know how I would."
"That's an honest answer," he said. "Which makes it useful."
Another table emptied.
The room felt larger now.
Quieter.
Several miles away, Nick Fury stood with his hands on a table, watching a feed he didn't fully trust.
The café camera glitched every few seconds.
"He didn't vanish," Maria Hill said. "He walked in."
"And the footage before?" Fury asked.
"Normal," she replied. "Which is the problem."
A file stalled. Reopened. Missing minutes.
"There's a gap," Hill said. "Not time. Continuity."
"How dangerous?" Fury asked.
"Unclear," she said. "No aggression. No spike."
"And yet."
"And yet."
Fury straightened. "Don't grab him. Don't corner him. And don't let him think we're afraid."
"And if he isn't safe?"
"Then we find out why the universe keeps making room for him."
Back in the café, the bell rang again.
No one entered.
Another person left instead.
Only three customers remained now.
Then two.
Then one.
"I'm going to ask you something," Coulson said. "Answer honestly."
"I've been trying."
"When you walked in here," he said, "did it feel like the room was waiting for you?"
My chest tightened.
"Yes."
"That tracks."
"What happens," I asked, "if I get up and leave?"
"I don't know," Coulson said. "But fewer people would notice than should."
The last customer stood. Looked around. Paused. Then left without touching their drink.
The café was empty.
The barista was gone too.
I hadn't seen her leave.
My hands shook.
[Presence exclusivity increasing.]
"I'm not trying to erase anything," I said.
"I know," Coulson replied. "That's what worries me."
The coffee across from me went cold Instantly.
I reached for it.
My hand passed through where the cup should have been.
The table was clean.
No stain. No heat. No sign it had ever existed.
Coulson followed my gaze.
"Was there something there?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
"There wasn't."
[Minor conceptual correction applied.]
I pulled my hand back and sat very still.
The café looked the same.
Felt the same.
But I knew, with sudden certainty, that something had just been removed without anyone asking.
And that next time, it might not be something so small.
....
Thanks for reading chapter 2.
Feel free to drop any power stones or anything, though I don't mind because the games gone and I'm doing this for enjoyment because I cant find anything good to read.
.....