"You harmed our agents, then proceeded to order me around. Is this Kryptonian etiquette?"
Faced with Heisenberg's demand, Maria Hill responded with measured skepticism.
"No. Kryptonian etiquette is claiming your planet before you even open your mouth."
Heisenberg smirked coldly before pausing briefly, then pursed his lips in boredom.
"Let's try this another way. I just got shot 322 times. Consider this a small concession to a dangerous man—go get me a drink."
"That's quite the simple concession. But I'd rather say no, because you've shown neither Earth nor me any respect!"
"Even if it costs you your life?"
"Not everyone fears death, especially not Earthlings, sir!"
As soon as Hill finished speaking, the lounge door burst open.
Nick Fury, slightly flushed and sweating, strode in purposefully, positioning himself between Heisenberg and Hill.
He first gave Heisenberg a deep, scrutinizing look. When met with Heisenberg's indifferent gaze, he took a sharp breath.
By the time he exhaled, he had already prepared himself to yield.
"It's truly wonderful to see you again, Mr. Heisenberg. When you left my office last night, I feared Earth might not be enough to hold your interest."
As he spoke, Fury casually took a seat on the couch to Heisenberg's left, muttering under his breath.
"We're grateful that after touring Earth's wonders, you still chose to return to our country. Though there was a minor... misunderstanding, I'm confident the rest of your stay will be nothing short of extraordinary!"
With a snap of his fingers, Fury turned to Hill.
"Hill, would you mind fetching some drinks for Mr. Heisenberg and me? I still owe him that glass of whiskey."
The moment he finished—
"Tsk. Same old tricks." —That was Heisenberg, thoroughly unimpressed.
"Hmm." —That was Hill.
Fury blinked in confusion.
"What's wrong?"
Hill shook her head smoothly.
"Nothing. I'll get the drinks."
"Indeed, nothing's wrong. Your hospitality suits me just fine."
Heisenberg grinned.
"Director Fury, you're too kind. And Agent Hill—hurry with that drink, won't you? Heh."
By the time he finished speaking, Hill was already on her way.
Watching her walk off as if nothing had happened, Heisenberg smiled inwardly.
Ah, the joys of power!
When you were strong enough, you could do things you'd never dare attempt otherwise. And those who once intimidated you? They'd bow their heads like obedient little eggs.
As a Chinese soul in his past life, could Heisenberg have ever dreamed of waltzing into a S.H.I.E.L.D. base—America's answer to the FBI?
Yet here he was, not just barging in but being welcomed with open arms and free drinks.
Believe him—there was a unique thrill in this, a satisfaction ordinary life could never provide.
And right now?
Heisenberg was loving it.
So he levitated, floating right next to Fury and settling down barely thirty centimeters away.
With a grin, he leaned in.
"Nick, since it's just us two, let's talk business."
"Go ahead." Fury nodded.
"Last night... I circled the Earth about seven thousand times. Roughly."
"And?" Fury wiped sweat from his brow.
"After seeing how most of the world lives, I gotta say—I love the way you Americans drown in liquor and luxury!"
Heisenberg rubbed his thumb against his index and middle fingers.
"Money. Women. Supercars. Rolexes. All the things I never had—never even chased before."
He shrugged.
"They feel perfect for me now. After being locked up for millennia, I deserve to drown out the bitterness and embrace whatever joy this new life offers."
THUD!
He clapped Fury on the shoulder, grinning as the man winced.
"I'm a lazy old man—tens of thousands of years old, in fact. I don't want to work for my pleasures like some ambitious youth."
He smirked.
"But I'm also not about to live like some ascetic monk."
Another pat on Fury's shoulder.
"So, who do you think I should... trouble for the lifestyle my power and status deserve?"
"I'd be honored to assist!"
Fury seized Heisenberg's hand with theatrical enthusiasm.
"As a U.N.-backed organization, S.H.I.E.L.D. handles trillions annually. No other group on Earth can match our resources!"
He leaned in conspiratorially.
"Name your desires. Within reason, of course."
Heisenberg laughed. "Then I'll take you up on that. First—somewhere to stay."
"Of course. What kind of environment do you prefer?"
Fury launched into a sales pitch worthy of a five-star resort.
"If you enjoy ocean breezes, we can build you a castle in the Strait of Malacca."
"If you prefer snow-capped serenity, an Arctic retreat awaits."
"Springtime renewal? The Norwegian forests bloom like nowhere else."
"Autumn's golden harvest? Canada's maples will paint your world in crimson."
"I—"
For a moment, Heisenberg was genuinely speechless.
Was this really the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Or had Fury missed his calling as a tour guide?
There was no way this spiel wasn't pre-rehearsed.
No way!
Briefly, the landscapes Fury described bloomed vividly in Heisenberg's mind.
He wanted to see them—places his past self could only dream of visiting.
But then—
Wait.
Something felt off.
What was it?
After a pause, Heisenberg narrowed his eyes.
"Are you... trying to ship me off to the middle of nowhere?"
"What? Of course not!"
Fury feigned shock, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow.
"I'm merely showcasing Earth's finest seasons. If those don't appeal, just tell me what does."
"Fine. How about a bar? I like the atmosphere."
"Done. Any city in mind? New York?"
"New York. Somewhere near the border of Queens and Hell's Kitchen."
"Uh... Mr. Heisenberg, those two don't actually share a border—"
"Should I fold space to make them touch, then?!"
"No, no! Consider it handled. You'll have your bar by tonight."
Fury hesitated, then cautiously added:
"Though... there is a small request."
He took a breath.
"We'd like to run some basic physical tests—strength, speed, any special abilities you might have."
He quickly clarified:
"Purely for research. Your cooperation would be... greatly appreciated."
Silence.
Fury tensed, acutely aware of Heisenberg's grip on his shoulder.
One wrong move, and those hands—which had crushed blast-proof glass like paper—could reduce him to paste.
But after a moment, Heisenberg simply nodded.
"Just a few harmless tests, right?"
He smirked.
"Consider it our first transaction. You get me my bar. I'll give you a peek at my capabilities—so you can brainstorm ways to control me."
"No! Just expanding our knowledge!"
Fury laughed nervously.
"You're our friend. On Earth, friends share drinks—not threats."
"Heh." Heisenberg rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say. But my bar better happen fast. I want it on a skyscraper's rooftop—with a terrace. Got it?"
"Absolutely! Terrace included!"
As Fury nodded, Hill returned with drinks.
Both men turned to her—one with a gaze that made her lips tighten in irritation.
"Didn't know your preferences, so I brought bourbon."
She set the tray down with a barely concealed eye-roll.
Heisenberg took the bottle, poured himself a glass, then handed the rest to Fury.
Clinking his single serving against Fury's near-full bottle, he grinned.
"Cheers, friend."
He downed his drink in one go, then watched expectantly as Fury—face darkening like a spoiled egg—forced himself to chug the entire bottle.
Gasping, Fury set the empty bottle down, his expression strained.
But he shook it off and turned to Heisenberg.
"Shall we begin the tests?"
"Whenever."
"Then follow me."
Fury's words were clipped—his mood clearly in the gutter.
He led the way, Hill trailing behind, pointedly ignoring Heisenberg.
They took the elevator down, exited the Triskelion, and boarded a shuttle.
Crossing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sprawling campus, they arrived at the Academy building.
Under the curious stares of students, they descended into the basement.
After navigating a maze of corridors, they reached a massive training facility.
Despite being underground, the space was vast—three football fields in area, with a nine-meter ceiling.
But at the moment, only one person occupied it.
A muscular man in a plain white T-shirt and jeans was demolishing a heavy bag.
BAM!
BAM-BAM-BAM!
Jabs, hooks, a spinning kick, a knee strike, then a brutal suplex.
The reinforced bag might as well have been a ragdoll.
Even as the trio approached, the man didn't pause.
Only after repeating his combo did he finally turn, nodding at Fury.
"Sandbags these days are durable. Back in my time, one round would've shredded them."
His eyes locked onto Heisenberg.
"Nick. Hill. Been a while. And you are...?"
"Heisenberg." He extended a hand.
The man shook it firmly.
"Steve Rogers. Pleasure to meet you."