The midday sun blazed like a merciless spotlight, its heat bending the world beneath it into a wavering mirage, burning too fiercely for any human eye to endure.

  Wiping the sweat from his forehead—whether from the heat or from the crushing realization that his world was far stranger than he had ever imagined—Nick Fury finally pulled himself together and sprinted toward his car.

  Of course, he wasn't new to the weird side of the world, but today he was hit once again with another profound lesson—never underestimate any possibility.

  Aliens? What's next… angels, demons, and magicians?

  Oh, right. We already have one of those.

  "Motherfu—" he bit off the curse, growling it under his breath as he yanked the car door shut. His glare cut to his partner, voice sharp with fire.

  "Follow them!"

  Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, two pairs of eyes had witnessed everything that unfolded here—probably even more than he did.

  High above the street, concealed by powerful invisibility magic, Maverick and Isabella perched atop a floating construct, quietly watching—and occasionally commenting on—the chaos playing out below.

  Isabella had already pulled out her recorder and started filming everything. After all, she was a journalist now, and whether or not it had anything to do with their magical world, this was still a huge story.

  Besides, she wasn't doing anything illegal, like crossing the secrecy law. She wasn't interfering with Muggle affairs or exposing herself—just quietly recording from the shadows.

  Even if she did, what could anyone do to her? Is the ICW going to arrest her? Of course not. Rules are only meant to control the weak, or people without connections. And Isabella had more than one pair of thick enough thighs behind her to make anyone think twice before even trying anything.

  And really, the magical world had every right to know their discovery. News of life beyond Earth would be a first for them as well, and seeing them with abilities similar to her own kind made it all the more monumental.

  Maverick glanced at her from the corner of his eye and could only let out a helpless smile at her antics. He hadn't realized just how passionate Isabella was into this—into being a reporter.

  At first, he had thought she had chosen this profession to help him achieve his ambitions, but now it was clear that he had been mistaken. Observing her behavior, it was obvious that she was completely in her own element—a full-on, news-hungry reporter with zero pretense.

  "Are you sure, Ricky, that's a creature not from our world? Like… an actual alien, from outside?" Isabella asked. Her tone wasn't shocked in the slightest—if anything, she sounded almost giddy as Maverick explained his theory.

  Of course, it wasn't really a theory. He knew exactly what it was, but he couldn't exactly admit, Yeah, I've seen this in a movie from my past life. So he kept it vague.

  "That's definitely not a magical creature," he said calmly, nudging the magical construct they stood on to rise a little higher for a clear view of the action below—the woman who would one day be Captain Marvel chasing the Skrull, and Nick Fury, along with… not Coulson, hot on their trail.

  "I can't sense any trace of magical energy from it. The only other explanation could be a mutant, but I've never heard of multiple mutants sharing the exact same ability."

  Earlier, when Nick Fury had been momentarily frozen by Danvers suddenly displaying her powers and the Skrull, another shapeshifter had slipped in from behind him, flawlessly taking on the form of the other agent who had entered the Blockbuster store just moments before.

  Fury didn't notice, but Maverick and Isabella saw it clearly—what had first looked like an ordinary Muggle suddenly changed form, exactly like how the one Danvers was chasing.

  So if there were already two… then it could only mean there were more, ruling out the possibility that these strange creatures were mutants.

  "Are we going to tell him?" she asked, eyes never leaving the camera's viewfinder, flicking between the speeding car and the on-foot chase that had now spilled onto the top of a moving train.

  "I don't think that will be necessary," Maverick replied, the corner of his lips curling up as they paced above. Of course, he was ready to take action at any moment—obviously he couldn't exactly let Fury die.

  Inside the car at that very moment, a fistfight was erupting while the vehicle zigzagged wildly out of control. It seems Fury has finally realized that his "partner"... wasn't really his partner.

  "To the front, Ricky! I want to capture the cat fight!" Isabella nudged him sharply in the arm, her eyes alight, her voice buzzing with excitement.

  Maverick's corner of his lips twitched, but he obliged nonetheless.

  Isabella was grinning from ear to ear, capturing every tense second of the back-and-forth struggle between one man and one green alien.

  "They are not physically, in terms of strength, that much different from ordinary humans. At least not that one…" she remarked from time to time as the fight dragged on, until—

  Boom!

  Screeech…

  Eventually, Fury managed to turn the tide. With one clean shot right between the brows, he put the Skrull impostor down, then wrestled the car back under control and brought it to a stop.

  "Hm… it's green?" Isabella finally lifted her head from the viewfinder, squinting at the crumpled body to get a better look.

  "Well, more proof it's not an Earthling. We humans—whether mutants or magicals—at least all bleed red, right?" Maverick shrugged his shoulders.

  Isabella made a thoughtful expression as she nodded, then shut off the magical camera with a contented smile and stowed it in her storage ring.

  "So, what's next? Where's that woman and the other alien?"

  Maverick smiled helplessly. "No need to look for them. The alien has slipped away, and the woman's searching in the opposite direction."

  His magical sense hadn't left Danvers and the Skrull, but he had no intention of chasing them for now. If memory serves, what happens next would be Danvers digging into her past, eventually stumbling across Project Pegasus—likely in a day or two.

  The entire movie—at least the Earth-side plot—wasn't very long, he thought, hand on chin. Aside from the flashbacks, it all unfolded over just a few days, and if things really did follow the script, it was shaping up to be the perfect holiday for him.

  Following the aliens with his fiancée, having fun together and maybe picking up a few alien tech "souvenirs" along the way—what's not to like about that?

  That said, he wasn't planning to just sit on the sidelines until the very end. The real opportunities—specifically the Tesseract—would, or should, make its debut a little later, and that's when he would make his appearance. Until then, though, he preferred to let certain events play out naturally.

  Of course, that was assuming no unexpected surprises popped up—which he wasn't leaving to chance. The moment he realized things were going off the rails compared to what he remembered, he would, by all means, try to track down the cosmic cube, even if it meant rummaging through a few minds along the way.

  Besides, tonight was New Year's Eve. He had a surprise planned for Isabella—a romantic dinner somewhere special, and he wasn't about to miss it. As for Fury and Danvers, a simple tracking charm was more than enough. Their trail would still be there tomorrow.

  "Let's go," Maverick said with a smile, linking arms with Isabella. "We can find them tomorrow, but for now… I'm still craving some of those ribs. Hopefully the other places are just as good."

  ---

  They didn't linger long at the sight, and after realizing that most of the nearby restaurants had closed due to the earlier commotion, Maverick decided it was time to take Isabella to his surprise location. Thanks to the time zone difference, it was almost sunset there, with only a couple of hours left until evening.

  But first, they returned to their hotel, took quick showers, and changed into casual-formal outfits: Isabella in a stunning fiery dress, Maverick in a smart-casual ensemble with a loose long-sleeve shirt and crisp white pants. Only then, with a subtle flick of magic, they teleported halfway across the world.

  Their destination: the Maldives. Maverick had reserved a grand suite at a luxurious five-star resort, perched right over the turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean—a perfect spot to welcome the New Year together.

  They spent the first part of the evening enjoying the scenery and soaking in the extravagant New Year's decorations, impressive even by Muggle standards. Then, they moved to a private beach where a candlelit dinner awaited them.

  Needless to say, Isabella couldn't hide her delight at the gesture. The couple shared a quiet, romantic evening under the stars, the ocean stretching endlessly before them, before finally stepping back to admire the resort's fireworks display.

  But the night wasn't over yet. After dinner, they joined the resort's big festival, dancing with the crowd to DJs and music, even squeezing in some karaoke. By the end of it, both were laughing and breathless, calling it a night with hearts full and memories made.

  ---

  Two days later, Mojave Desert, California.

  A deafening boom ripped through the air as a heavily armored, heavily customized aircraft—its size somewhere between a VTOL and a private jet, with a sleek black hull glinting under the harsh desert sun—blasted out of what appeared to be a military base.

  Gunfire cracked and ricocheted off its reinforced plating, sparks trailing behind as bullets and energy blasts tried to catch up. The jet shuddered with each near hit but clawed higher into the sky, engines screaming as it pierced the thin desert air, leaving a plume of dust and smoke in its wake.

  After spending New Year's Eve in the Maldives, Maverick and Isabella once again returned to the United States, and had been quietly trailing Fury and Danvers ever since.

  Until now, Maverick hadn't made a move, content to simply observe alongside Isabella. Judging by everything that had happened—from Danvers uncovering the Pegasus secrets to Fury tracking her down—he concluded that most events were unfolding exactly as he remembered from the movie.

  Eventually, they traced the duo to a desert facility that, on paper, appeared to be a NASA lab. Ofcourse, in reality, it was the true Pegasus base, a high-security U.S. military installation.

  Casting one last incredulous glance at the dozen or so soldiers who had let the pair escape with a stolen, bloody Quinjet prototype of all things—something, for lack of a better word, that could only be explained as plot armor—Maverick chose to leave as well.

  "Hold on…" he murmured, wrapping an arm around Isabella and forming a magical barrier in front of them to shield against the wind.

  Then, with a gentle nudge of his magic, he lifted their construct high into the air and propelled it forward at an incline, soaring above the desert and slicing through the clouds toward the east.

  "Where are they going?" Isabella asked, gripping him tightly as they trailed the duo ahead. Half an hour had passed, and they were now maintaining a steady pace at virtually constant velocity, keeping roughly a kilometer behind.

  "Up ahead should be Louisiana…" he paused, then nodded, having made a decision. "Bella, I think it's about time we make an entrance, don't you?"

  Isabella raised a brow and shrugged, letting him decide. She was just following along—but, honestly, it was starting to get a little boring.

  "Are we… apparating in to spook them?" she asked mischievously.

  "Of course not. I don't want to be swallowed by a cat…"

  "A what?"

  "Hehe… never mind," he chuckled. "Anyway, how could I, a dignified archmage make an entrance that boring?"

  With that, he grinned wildly and raised his free hand, letting his vast magic ripple outward, spreading through the air like a storm about to break.

  —————————

  Whooosh—

  Booom!

  High above the Mojave Desert, the air suddenly trembled with a shattering boom. It wasn't a bird, and it didn't resemble any conventional aircraft—and of course, it wasn't a man in blue tights and red trunks causing it.

  The culprit seemed more like a fighter jet—only larger and far faster than a typical passenger liner—tearing east just shy of the sound barrier, with twin white contrails streaking across the sky in its wake.

  The roar of its engines was deafening, yet inside the cabin it was surprisingly calm, with only a steady hum filling the space. Two individuals—and a cat—occupied the cockpit, and they had been streaking through the sky at supersonic speed for nearly an hour now.

  "…six years ago, I didn't remember anything when I woke up on Hala at first."

  "Hala?"

  "That's the capital planet of the Kree star system…"

  Carol Danvers kept one hand steady on the controls as she handed a file to Fury in the co-pilot seat.

  "This is…?" the super spy asked, frowning.

  "I don't know," Danvers admitted, then continued on to explain her situation—or rather, the fragments of her resurfacing memories.

  Nick Fury frowned, suspicion flickering across his face as his eyes lingered on the photo, particularly the woman in the background.

  Piecing together the experiences she had recounted so far—about being a space soldier for some galactic empire—and the fragments of memories she was supposedly recovering, he had more or less figured out what had happened to her.

  This woman had clearly been used, exploited for her unique abilities, and it was very likely she was human. Could she be a mutant? he wondered—the most logical explanation for her powers.

  But that begged the question: how had she ended up in outer space? Was she the only one? Were aliens really so unscrupulous nowadays as to kidnap Earthlings? And how could SHIELD—the agency he worked for, the leading organization worldwide handling extraordinary affairs—have been completely oblivious to all of this?

  Thoughts raced through his mind, and an unprecedented chill ran down his spine. Fortunately, he was trained to control his emotions, so Danvers didn't notice the subtle change in his expression.

  And as a super spy, he wasn't one to be straightforward, so he continued playing ignorant, asking questions while carefully pretending to be clueless.

  "…so you're saying you could very well be an Earthling, and not only that, but this woman—who apparently piloted the plane six years ago, the one that went down with Dr. Larson—was also you?"

  "I didn't say that... you did," she shot back playfully, making Fury raise a brow at her antics.

  Does this woman really not care, or was she just putting on an act? Could the possibility that she once had a life here not bother her? No—she had to be pretending to be nonchalant. Otherwise, why would she go rogue from an apparent galactic army just to uncover her past?

  Right, she was clearly putting on an act, but… that's not my problem; it was hers.

  He was more concerned about something else, so he pressed on, ignoring what he was certain was an act.

  "I'm serious," he said, giving a deliberate nod, signaling that she should take it seriously. "If this is true, then our planet has long been compromised…"

  Danvers couldn't help but chuckle at his words. Did this man really think his world had never been visited by extraterrestrial life before? Not to mention the Kree and the Skrulls—as far as she knew, C-53 was also called Midgard, a realm directly under the rule of the supreme rank cosmic deity, Odin.

  She was about to lecture him, thinking his reasoning was stupidly shallow—but then she pushed the thought aside, sensing something, and her expression suddenly changed.

  Her eyes narrowed at the distance, seeing something amiss. Unbeknownst to her just yet, her senses were far sharper than ordinary humans', but because she couldn't recall anything from before she had her powers, she had always assumed it was something innate. And right now, a bad premonition was gnawing at her, that something... dangerous, was closing in.

  Fury noticed the change too and followed her gaze, his instincts flaring. Yes—something about this sudden change in the weather was definitely not right.

  Purrr…

  Even the cat let out a low purr and assumed an alert stance, staring ahead. The duo didn't realize it yet, but very fortunately for them, that was all it did.

  For a few beats, the only sounds were the steady hum of the engines and the occasional beep from the controls.

  "I… think we should turn around… or fly up to escape the clouds, don't you think?"

  Fury said, a perfectly logical suggestion, one that any pilot should obviously know. He thought right.

  Unfortunately, it wasn't that Danvers couldn't understand something so simple; she simply couldn't act. Her eyes darted to the control stick, pupils shrinking as she felt something powerful and invisible was holding her hands in place right now, refusing to let them move or budge.

  "Danvers!"

  Fury called out again, sharper this time, noticing that she wasn't looking quite right.

  Crackle.

  Thunder ripped across the sky in a deafening boom, making him shiver involuntarily. Of course, he wasn't scared of stormy weather—but tens of thousands of meters above the ground, inside an aircraft he wasn't even sure had proper lightning protection, anyone would feel uneasy.

  Crackle.

  Crackle.

  More lightning split the clouds, jagged and wild, swallowing everything else in darkness. The plane was bathed in fleeting flashes of electric brilliance, the swirling gray shadows of the storm twisting like a living thing around him.

  "I… I can't move," finally, Danvers managed to speak up, making Fury snap out of his stupor.

  "Fury… I can't move. Help me… push the control stick… to the left—"

  Her words stumbled, trying to get him to take control at her suggestion, but then her eyes widened in sudden alarm, swallowing the rest of what she was about to say as she saw something utterly absurd.

  "What in the..."

  Seeing her eyes widen, Fury followed her gaze instinctively toward the darkness beyond the glass as well.

  Crackle.

  Crackle.

  Followed by the relentless flashes of lightning, he saw it too—it was impossible not to—and like her, his eyes nearly bulged from his skull as well.

  "Mother... fuc—"

  Between the flashing bursts that illuminated the clouds, the horror—or its shadow—seemed right in front of them. The first thing noticeable were its wings, so vast they could very well swat the aircraft they were in like a fly.

  Gulp. Fury swallowed a dry mouthful, and Danvers was feeling no better.

  Carol Danvers might be an intergalactic space soldier, but she wasn't that overpowered chick who could go toe-to-toe with the galaxy's Director of Human Resources and his army—at least, not yet.

  Actually, if it were just a visual shock, these two experienced super-warriors wouldn't have been affected this much. It wasn't only their sense of sight making them feel so small in that moment, but their very wills were being subtly pressed, restrained by a power they couldn't yet comprehend.

  They both watched helplessly as the colossal creature, as dark as night, drew closer. Its body loomed like a monstrous crow, massive beyond reason, until its beak—and those crimson eyes, bigger than their aircraft—were directly in front of them.

  Every flash of lightning revealed it in stark, unfathomable detail: a shadow, a behemoth moving with the storm, each beat of its wings sending turbulence that rattled the plane.

  "I… never thought… C-53 had creatures like this. Fury… what aren't you… telling me?" Danvers' voice trembled.

  Amid the fear churning in his gut, the booming thunder, the plane's warning alarms, and the rain hammering against the windows, the future one-eyed SHIELD director still managed to catch her whisper—and even gave it a moment of thought.

  "Fuck it…" he thought. If he, they, were about to become food, maybe a little honesty wouldn't hurt.

  "Actually… I'm not really that worried about the Skrulls or whatever you've warned me about… invading Earth," he gasped for breath. "What our planet doesn't lack, if anything, are… super-powered beings like you, Danvers. We have… stronger, more powerful monsters than you, more numerous than you… can imagine…"

  He only managed to get that far... and then, his stomach finally dropped. He wasn't even sure if Danvers had heard him—frankly, he didn't care—because at that very moment, he saw the monster finally opening its colossal—goddamn—beak.

  "MOTHERFUCK!

  Nicholas Joseph Fury muttered one final prayer, unaware that in his panic, one hand had shot out and grabbed Danvers'—who, strangely, had done the same. Their wrists tangled, fingers locking together as they both clutched their seats with their other hands, backs pressed hard against them, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the inevitable—until… darkness swallowed them whole.

  ...

  ...

  ...

  Click.

  A sudden flash of light—and it wasn't lightning, but from a camera—came from behind them, capturing the moment their hands were outstretched from their seats, fingers tangled like an unwavering couple.

  "Was all that… really necessary?"

  Isabella lowered the camera from her face and walked toward them, sighing as she glanced up at the sky through the aircraft's front windows. It was blue, clear, with not a single cloud in sight. The aircraft was still on its course, heading due east.

  Meow… purr.

  From behind her came a soft sound—a cat's meow—followed by steady footsteps. Maverick appeared, holding the "cat" that Fury seemed to have named Goose, gently petting its head as he walked shoulder to shoulder with her.

  His eyes twitched, seeing Fury's eyeballs roll all the way back. If he hadn't been able to sense his heartbeat, it would have almost looked as if he were dead.

  Maverick raised a hand to his mouth and let out an embarrassed cough.

  "Cough… I… might have gotten a little carried away there."

  —————————

  The world returned in fragments. A low hum pressed against their ears, droning steadily, while blurred shapes drifted in and out of focus. The stale tang of recycled air filled their lungs, the vibration beneath their seats thrummed faintly through their bones. Slowly, vision sharpened—and with it came the rush of memories, the storm, the lightning, and… the monster.

  Nick Fury's eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, he lay there, dazed. Beside him, Danvers stirred as well, a soft groan escaping her as her head turned and her eyes blinked open. At first, her vision swam, but clarity soon returned—revealing not the nightmarish void still vivid at the back of her mind, but the familiar cockpit walls enclosing them.

  Her chest rose and fell sharply as she pieced it all together: the image of colossal wings blotting out the sky. Not even on the harshest planets she had ever set foot on had she encountered, or felt, something that made her seem so utterly insignificant.

  "Oh… that didn't take long."

  A teasing voice, male, suddenly drifted through the cabin, reaching their eardrums. Lazy, almost amused, it made Fury and Danvers freeze for the briefest of seconds—too caught off guard to register at first—until muscle memory kicked in and their instincts took over.

  Both were seasoned soldiers in their own right, and they didn't need time to think in a moment like this, so almost in sync, they sprang from their seats, bodies whipping around toward the source of the sound.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Click…

  Hummm…

  One hand cocked a gun, and the other… just a hand, but it glowed with raw energy, ready to strike. Their brains were still scrambled, but their reflexes were sharp—and they held back, just one step short of pulling the trigger.

  "And who the hell are you two clowns supposed to be?"

  Sharp-tongued as always, Fury squinted at the absurd scene unfolding before him.

  Is that… a motherfucking sofa? Or did I miss it when we rushed in to take off?

  Because yes, there was indeed a chair—a full-on sofa—parked right in the middle of the cockpit. Sitting on it, he saw a young man dressed like he had just wandered away from a beachside lunch: loose, wrinkled white shirt, white pants, and—he blinked—flip-flops.

  Flip-flops!

  The man—no, a kid by his standards, from the looks of it—looked completely at ease, one leg casually crossed over the other, stroking Goose like it was a lifelong companion, fingers moving with practiced affection over the cat's head.

  And then there was the girl. Behind the sofa, leaning casually like she owned the place. She didn't even flinch at the gun pointed her way. Her outfit wasn't battle armor either, or tactical gear, but a kind of careless, street-casual drip—denim jacket slung loose, black crop top, ripped jeans, sneakers too clean for how relaxed she looked. Her hands were shoved in her pockets, head tilting, eyes wandering the cockpit like a tourist taking in the sights.

  "My apologies, agent," the young man said, smiling like he had all the time in the world. "You see, my fiancé and I were casually taking a stroll through the skies atop my little pet this fine afternoon, when she—my pet," he shrugged, "suddenly started acting… weird. Although, in her defense, she only does that when another alpha creature's nearby. Right, honey?" He tilted his head lazily at Isabella, now standing beside him, that grin never leaving—like he was asking for a mundane yes-or-no.

  Isabella had to resist every twitch in her face. Eyes, mouth, hands—she froze them all. Finally, she gave a single, lazy nod, perfectly in sync with his ridiculous calm.

  "That's when we found you," he continued, turning back to them. "Well… your airplane—or jet… whatever this is. Never thought I'd run into Pierce's famous assistant, though." He shrugged again. "Anyway, turns out I was wrong, hence I apologize on behalf of Twinklefeather." He waved a hand vaguely. "That's my pet bird's name. It was only a cat she got all agitated about. Oh, and don't worry—I reverse-summoned that unruly girl back to its lair." He finished with a small smile, eyes closing briefly before opening again, like he had just finished explaining the weather.

  Fury: …

  Danvers: …

  A long, inexplicable silence hung in the cabin as Fury and Danvers tried to process what they had just heard.

  "What do you mean—" Danvers was the first to react, wanting to ask what in the world he was talking about, but Fury beside her seemed to have reached the end of his patience, raising his gun even higher.

  "MOTHERFUCKER! You have one last chance to rephrase that bullshit into English, or I'm pulling the trigger!"

  "What a rude uncle," Isabella interjected, sounding unhappy. "Honey, I thought you said you knew this strange man, so why is he—"

  "Wait a minute… that's right. How the hell do you know I'm an agent? And Pierce… how the hell do you know him? You military or—" He suddenly froze mid-sentence, because the more he kept talking and looking at Maverick, the clearer things became in his head—memories, classified details—until finally, he registered the face.

  He couldn't help but swallow hard, realizing exactly who was standing in front of him, before Danvers snapped him out of his shock. "Fury, are you okay?"

  "You are… High… Councilor… Caesar?" he stammered.

  Maverick's smile widened, and Fury took that as a yes, immediately lowering his gun. And Danvers, noticing the sudden change in Fury's expression—the spark of recognition—also relaxed her guard, realizing that these two young weirdos might actually be acquaintances. At this point, the only person she trusted was Fury—and whoever Fury vouched for, she'd trust as well.

  "Good… now that we have that cleared out—"

  "Wait!" Fury interrupted again, his hand twitching, unsure whether to raise the gun or not, as more doubts arose. More accurately, he finally remembered those ridiculous, absurd explanations he had received earlier about why these two were here in the first place.

  Mustering all his strength and managing to remain calm, he asked, "Mr… High Councilor… why, and how are you even here… what really happened to us earlier, before we—"

  "Got swallowed by your pet!" Danvers finished for him, looking at maverick.

  "Have I not explained?" Maverick said tilting his head. "It was all a misunderstanding caused by Twinklefeather,"

  "Misunderstanding? Twinkle…feather?" Fury tried his best to process it, while Danvers beside him looked thoughtful, then nodded, as if she had somehow grasped the gist of what had happened.

  "So, that was your pet? That monster?" she asked.

  "Absolutely." Maverick nodded three times, his head bobbing. "And it's not a monster. Just a slightly larger raven than most."

  "'Slightly'?" The corner of the space soldier's eyes twitched. "And you named it… Twinklefeather?"

  "Cute, right? Isabella helped me select it, right, honey?" He raised his head toward her, and Isabella almost rolled her eyes all the way to the back of her skull.

  "Her feathers are pretty…"

  "That makes absolutely no sense!" Fury argued, raising his voice again before softening and adding, "Respectfully, Mr. High Councilor."

  "Basically, my pet wanted to eat your plane thinking it was an enemy. I stopped it at the last minute… You're welcome, by the way. But when I got onboard, I found you two unconscious." He shook his head, tsking. "Not looking very good on your resume, Agent."

  Fury held back the urge to curse and took a breath. This kid was definitely messing with him, he was sure of it, but then he saw Danvers suddenly turn and check the controls, and he followed her gaze as well to see what was going on.

  "What happened?"

  "I just remembered... none of us are piloting the plane, but… it seems it's already running on autopilot."

  "Oh… I took the liberty of putting the plane on auto since, well, you both were out cold," Maverick said, making the two turn back to him. He shrugged after finishing. "You're welcome, again."

  "How did you get inside?" Fury asked, ignoring the jab and this time more calmly. Things were starting to fall into place about their current situation, at least somewhat.

  Maverick tilted his head as if he had been asked the stupidest question. "You do know that I'm a mage, right? Or hasn't Pierce given you clearance to know about us?"

  "Of course I know you're a mage… but that doesn't explain—"

  But before he could finish what he was about to say, Maverick had suddenly made a snap of his fingers, a mischievous smile on his face. Then, in Danvers' bewildered eyes, she saw Fury's body suddenly shrink and transform into a… chicken. It wasn't even gradual—almost instantaneous—leaving her no time to even react.

  "Buk buk?"

  "BUK BUK BUK?"

  "BUK BUK BUK BUK!"

  The chicken bukked, sounding confused at first, then flapped its wings as if in fright, bukking even louder. Maverick was pretty sure the last bit was the guy's signature curses at him.

  "Hay! What did you do to him?!"

  Danvers came out of her shock and pointed at Maverick, looking back and forth from the chicken to him.

  "Don't worry…" Maverick waved his hand, then snapped his fingers again, and Fury returned to his original self. "He asked a stupid question, that's all."

  "YOU MOTHER… FUC—"

  If looks could kill, Maverick would be dead multiple times over now, seeing Fury's bloodshot eyes.

  He cut him off as well, waving his hand and saying, "Again, Fury, I am a mage. So don't go asking stupid questions like how you entered here to a wizard. Understand?"

  "Son of…" huff, huff. In all his life, Nick Fury could swear this was the most pissed he had ever been.

  "Fine! Never mind then…" he said, swallowing the boiling anger and humiliation about to erupt from his gut. "Then, High Councilor—"

  "Just address me as Mr. Caesar, Fury."

  "Then Mr. Caesar. This is a highly classified SHIELD operation. Even if you are a High Councilor of the World Security Council, you cannot just interrupt our missions. I must ask you to leave..."

  Maverick raised a brow, lips curling into a smile. "Really now?" Saying that, he got up from his seat, stepped closer, and pulled a phone from his pocket, grinning at Fury. "Shall I call Director Pierce and ask permission? Hmm… you're right, protocol is protocol."

  Then, ever so slowly, he pretended to dial some numbers, fully aware that Fury would stop him.

  "Wait!"

  "What is it, Agent?" Maverick asked, looking confused but inwardly amused. He knew why—Fury wasn't exactly playing by the rules either, having raided a classified military base and escaped his own agency just an hour ago.

  "Don't," Fury said, coughing awkwardly and raising his hand to his mouth. "Of course you're welcome to stay. But we're not heading to do anything relevant. Only to speak to someone in Pennsylvania."

  "Oh… Pennsylvania?" Playing clueless, Maverick stroked his chin and glanced over at Isabella. "Honey, have you ever been to Pennsylvania?"

  Isabella also played along, took a thoughtful expression, then shook her head.

  "Great then. We've never been to that area, so we might as well follow. Actually, Agent Fury, we were just strolling over the sky, flying aimlessly, before we ran into your plane. A bit bored, to be honest, so this sounds perfect for us…" He clapped his fist against his palm. "Oh, and don't worry. Just treat us as invisible when you're there. I'll cast some magic over me and my fiancé so that only the two of you—and nobody else—can see us. And I promise on Merlin, we'll keep whatever we see buried."

  Fury had a million comebacks bouncing around his head he wanted to retort—it all sounded absurd and wrong in so many ways, breaking so many agency regulations than he cared to count—but somehow, for some inexplicable reason, he just sighed and accepted. Then, waving a hand surrenderingly, he walked up to Maverick and held out his hands.

  Tilting his head as he looked at the offered hand, Maverick thought the subtle compulsion charm he had carefully crafted on the super spy might have worked a little too well—but then, just as quickly, he realized he was dead wrong

  "Goose. I want my cat back..."

  "Oh… so this is your pet?"

  "Yes."

  "It's not… we only found him today at the military base, and he just decided—"

  Fury coughed abruptly, cutting her off. He didn't want Maverick—a World Security Council High Councilor—to know he had just raided a military base without authorization.

  "What she means is… even though we only just found him, he's taken a liking to me. I doubt a wizard of your stature would want to separate a man from his cat, right?"

  "Oh, absolutely not," Maverick said, righteously shaking his head, then handed the cat over. "There you go, Agent."

  Without another word, Fury took the cat, turned, and walked to the co-pilot seat.

  "Danvers… how long until we reach our destination?" he asked.

  At his question, she glanced over the controls briefly and said, "Half an hour more."

  Back to Maverick once again, curiosity shone in her eyes. Things had settled, they were back on track, and with half an hour to go, she wanted to know more about this mysterious magic couple. After all, it was her first time seeing Earthlings with special abilities.

  "So… you're a mage? Are you the ones Fury mentioned—the reason this planet doesn't fear outside species invading?"

  "Danvers!" Fury turned again with a sigh. He'd thought she hadn't heard him before blacking out earlier—but apparently, he was wrong.

  "What?"

  "What you're asking is this planet's classified information… which—"

  "Wait. Are you saying she's an alien, Fury?" Maverick cut in, feigning shock.

  Goddammit. Fury cursed inwardly—too many things were going wrong. If he had a choice, he didn't want Danvers knowing Earth's core secrets, and Maverick—High Councilor or not—he didn't want knowing everything about hers either. And yet, everything was slipping out of his control.

  "High Councilor," he said with a sigh, "we're not sure she's an alien. That's why we're on our way now—to confirm. But…" He paused, pondering weather to tell or not, then thinking that the topic would come up sooner or later, and remembering he had already agreed to let them tag along, he finally decided to come clean.

  "We did come across extraterrestrial life today, Mr Caeser..."

  Fury then went on, explaining their situation—everything from the start up to the present. Of course, if he had had a choice, it wouldn't have gone his way; sharing information simply wasn't in his character. But today, he was dealing with an archmage—someone with masterful control over a very specific kind of magic for situations like this.

  The compulsion charm, as the name implies, was a spell designed to subtly force a target to act in a specific way. Not as blunt as the Imperius Curse, of course, which outright compels the target to obey the caster's bidding. The compulsion charm had its limitations, and one of its prerequisites was that the target's own thoughts had to somewhat align with what the caster intended.

  In this case, because Maverick was a World Security Council High Councilor with legitimate access to SHIELD's high-level clearances, Fury wasn't entirely opposed to including him in the mission or sharing certain details.

  For his part, Maverick had nudged the magic very carefully, guiding certain outcomes his way—and it was thanks to this subtle influence that Fury hadn't questioned much. Of course, he was careful not to overdo it, so that even in the future, if Fury looked back, he would believe the decisions had been his own. Well, probably.

  Naturally, not just anyone could have pulled this off. It required at least advanced level proficiency of the spell and precise control of magical energy to weave it as flawlessly as Maverick did.

  Time passed slowly amid their discussion, with Danvers also satisfying her curiosity by asking a few questions of her own. Before long, half an hour had slipped by as the jet cruised nonstop, and they finally reached their destination: Pennsylvania, specifically the residence of Maria Rambeau, a former Air Force colleague of Danvers. Carol herself hadn't yet recalled this detail, but the reason for her coming here was precisely that.

  —————————

  Slurrrrp.

  The sound was out of place in the heavy silence of Maria Rambeau's living room. Isabella leaned against the wall near the window, sipping juice through a straw from a bottle she had scavenged from the fridge without anyone noticing.

  Maverick was close by as well, but his attention seemed fixed on something other than the memories being recalled in the room at that moment. Isabella didn't even bother to ask—her fiancé often drifted off, absentmindedly thinking of Merlin-knows-what.

  Of course, as far as Maria Rambeau was concerned, only Fury and Danvers were there with her, and no one else. Maverick and Isabella, as agreed earlier, remained invisible to everyone except Fury and Danvers, and carried on pretending they weren't there. Like background characters, the two had lingered nearby after landing—from Danvers's first reunion with Maria and her daughter, all the way to being invited inside and listening to her story presently.

  "Come look…"

  Monica Rambeau's small voice, carrying just enough excitement, made everyone turn their heads. She came rushing down the stairs, both arms wrapped around a dented metal box, and set it carefully on the table in the middle of the living room.

  Fury was the first to wander closer, curiously, then Maria and Danvers followed, their conversation already slipping into an awkward pause, and both of them looked almost relieved for the interruption.

  "Since you said you don't remember anything, Auntie Carol," Monica said, pulling out a stack of photos, "I thought it'd be a good idea to show you some… with me, Mom, and you. We even have some of you from when you were little."

  Having said that, she held one up with a grin. "This is me and you on Halloween…" Then, picking up another, softly added, "And this one… this one's you with your dad. Mom told me you didn't get along much with your family. So… we became your real family."

  One after another, Monica laid the pictures out like treasures. "This is us on Christmas… and this one's from the summer picnic…"

  Danvers stared absentmindedly at the snapshots, listening to Monica's recollections, each one a fragment of a life she couldn't remember—fragments full of laughter, warmth, and a sense of belonging that felt unmistakably real. Even though she still couldn't place the moments, the feelings in the pictures hit her hard, and a smile tugged at her lips before she even noticed it.

  Even Fury, staring at the pictures while the girl recounted the memories tied to each one, couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Danvers. To have once had a life and not remember it… that must hurt like hell. And with that, he also cleared the last bit of doubt in his mind about Danvers being an alien.

  Yes, until now, Fury hadn't completely ruled out Danvers being an Earthling, no matter how many coincidences seemed to point to it. Otherwise, he wouldn't be Nick Fury. But now, looking at Monica—that innocent, adorable girl—how could anyone possibly lie with such a straightforward, cute face?

  So the real question now, he pondered, was… how did she end up mixed in with some intergalactic, alien empire?

  Hmm?... From the corner of his eye, he then saw one of their invisible guests, Caesar, turn around with a thoughtful expression and walk to the window. Curious, he also excused himself, walked over, and whispered, "What? Did your tingly magic detect something?"

  Maverick raised an eyebrow and, without turning, responded, "What tingly magic, Agent? Is that a thing your Shield records about my kind?"

  Fury shrugged.

  "I'm just admiring the weather," Maverick remarked thoughtfully, a slight gleam in his eyes. Then, turning to Isabella and signaling her with a thought, he looked at Fury and said, "Anyway, I'll be out for a bit."

  "Out—?"

  Woosh!

  But before he could ask, Maverick had disappeared from the spot, startling the crap out of him.

  "This mother f—"

  "—Fury?"

  Danvers called at that moment, making him turn around—and fortunately, forcing him to hold back cursing aloud.

  "It's nothing…" he said with a resigned sigh. He glanced at Isabella, and seeing she wasn't bothered by Maverick no longer being there, he brushed the rude bastard from his mind and turned to the owner of the residence. All that running around back at the Pegasus base, being scared to death by some magical monster bird, and finally flying all the way here had left him famished.

  "I'm a bit hungry, Ms. Maria. I don't mean to be rude, but…"

  ---

  Half an hour later...

  Maverick had been wandering the Rambeau property, admiring the little private propeller plane parked in her garage, when his magical sense suddenly flared—alerting him to a group of uninvited guests sneaking onto the property.

  He smiled knowingly, understanding exactly who they were, and watched things play out.

  It was Talos, the Skrull leader, along with his grunts. They were disguised as random humans, of course, and what gave them away to Maverick was the conversation they were having with one another. It was the plan they were going to carry out, and to Maverick, it frankly wasn't even a plan—more like a bet.

  Soon, he saw one—Talos himself—enter the house, while the other had changed appearance again and was heading toward young Monica Rambeau, who was now outside, playing alone near the small attic at the edge of the property yard.

  His eyes narrowed, and for the first time, his magical sense thoroughly scanned a life that wasn't native to planet Earth, searching for anything unusual. The outward appearance looked flawless, perhaps even on par with someone under a Polyjuice potion, but... that was all.

  His magical sense could clearly distinguish that this wasn't Maria—or, more accurately, the feedback he was receiving told him it wasn't human at all.

  Humans—muggle or magical—have their own unique signature that magical senses can pick up, and not just humans; all creatures emit their own distinct feedback. Call it a smell or a taste—for example, a watermelon. Every watermelon tastes similar, but some are sweet and some not so much. Yet from a single bite, you can tell it's a watermelon.

  Of course, that wasn't the limit of magical-sense reconnaissance ability. When one's proficiency in the talent is as good as Maverick's right now, they could even distinguish individual humans—just like how Olympe Maxime first discovered he was Bloodraven.

  Back to the matter at hand, he figured, Good. At least this way, I can distinguish whether a Skrull is impersonating someone in the future.

  ---

  Meanwhile, inside the house

  Danvers, Fury, the invisible Isabella, and the real Maria were still at it, going through old photo albums, when a knock at the main door interrupted them.

  "Don't answer that," Fury warned immediately, out of instinct, but Maria wasn't as vigilant as he was.

  "It should… just be my neighbor," she said. "He drops by around this time quite often with his kids…"

  "The Skrull, Maria—they can change into anyone," Carol reminded her.

  Maria hesitated at that, and Carol walked forward to the door, followed by Fury with his gun ready. He gave Isabella a sideways glance and a nod, signaling her to be ready as well, then, finally, Carol opened the door.

  It turned out it was indeed their neighbor, apparently there to check out the jet because his kids had been asking. To his credit, the Quinjet prototype they had come with was indeed pretty cool—and likewise, an out-of-place sight to be parked in front of one's yard. But Carol wasn't buying it. Suspicious, she kept pressing questions one after another.

  "You're really working overtime to sell this one, aren't you, Talos?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously, even raising her fist.

  But Maria had had enough. "I'm sorry, Tom," she intervened just in time from behind her. "But this really isn't a good time. I'll come by tomorrow, okay?"

  "Uh…" The man still looked like he wanted to say something, but Maria had already closed the door in his face.

  And just as the door clicked shut, a voice came from inside the house, startling all three of them—well, except Isabella, who was still slurping from her drink, amusingly watching.

  She had seen the green-skinned alien, dressed in some weird gothic formal drip, sneak into the house from the other side, take a drink just like the one she was having, and then lean against the wall, trying to look all cool—before delivering his line.

  "You know, you really should be kinder to your neighbors. You never know when you're gonna need to borrow some sugar."

  —————————

  Author's Note:

  Work's been crazy busy, and I haven't felt great the last few days, so sorry for the late updates. I might not get five chapters out this week, but it should be fine next week.

  Thanks for understanding ??????

  You can find this story on Webnovel, Fanfiction, and ScribbleHub, all under the same author name: RyanFic. Updates drop first on Webnovel!

  Thank you so much for your support. It means the world! ????