He paused, the glow in his eyes dimming slightly as he turned his head. Mia stepped forward, standing between him and Fury.
"He's not worth it," she said calmly, looking him in the eyes. "You already made your point."
Michael exhaled slowly, a low growl vibrating in his chest as the tendrils retracted and the oppressive force in the room lifted. He stepped back.
"You should be thankful she's here," he muttered to Fury.
Fury coughed, still on one knee. "You talk like a god... but you're not invincible."
Michael tilted his head, smiling darkly. "No. Just untouchable."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, the symbiote slowly melting back into his skin.
Mia lingered for a second, locking eyes with Fury. "Next time… come with respect. Or don't come at all."
She followed after Michael, leaving the agents and their shaken director to gather what pieces of pride they had left.
"I really wonder just what pride he had left to say such things to your face," his mom said as she sneered.
"He wanted war, he'll get one now," Michael said as he took out his phone and then queued up the video of them nuking New York.
"Let's see how you get out of this," Michael mumbled as he pressed the upload button.
The phone buzzed faintly as Michael pressed the upload button. A small loading circle spun for a second—and then it was done.
Across the world, the footage was unleashed: raw, undeniable proof of the leaders' betrayal, showing the approval of the nuclear strike that would have wiped out New York... footage carefully edited and enhanced by Michael to leave no room for doubt.
Within minutes, news stations picked it up.
Within an hour, riots began.
Within a day, the world boiled.
Michael watched from the living room, arms crossed, an eerie calm on his face as the first breaking news reports filled the TV screen. Mia leaned against the wall nearby, arms folded, while his mother casually sipped wine as if it were just another Tuesday.
"Well," Mia said, glancing at the chaos unfolding. "You really don't do things halfway, huh?"
Michael chuckled lowly. "Half measures are for people who plan to lose."
On the screen, politicians scrambled to deny, counter, and spin the narrative, but it was too late. The truth was already burning through every screen, every heart, every mind.
"The world wanted to play games," Michael said coldly, his eyes glowing faintly. "Now they get to play mine."
He turned away from the screen, walking toward the large windows that overlooked the distant city skyline. Fires were already starting in the streets.
"And this..." he whispered, almost to himself, "...is just the beginning."
"You shouldn't have tried to mess with me" Michael said already imagining what was going on in SHIELD.
***
Meanwhile, inside the SHIELD Helicarrier, alarms blared like a chorus of disaster.
Nick Fury stormed into the command center, coat whipping behind him. Dozens of agents scrambled across the decks, screens flashing red warnings and emergency broadcasts.
"Status report!" Fury barked.
An agent turned with panic in her eyes. "Sir, it's bad! Every major news outlet has the footage! It's spreading faster than we can suppress it! Riots are breaking out in over twenty-five major cities!"
"Patch me through to the World Council!" Fury growled, already pulling on a headset.
"They're... already on the line, sir," another agent stammered, gesturing to the giant monitor.
The screen snapped to life, revealing grim-faced Council members—men and women who normally ruled from the shadows—now looking as if the floor had collapsed under them.
"You were supposed to ignore him, Fury!" one of them snapped.
"We clearly told you not to mess with him! Then what is this shit?!"
Fury's jaw tightened. "We tried. You all said to 'push' him. You thought he was just another metahuman we could intimidate."
"We never said that! We clearly told you to go after the metahuman who stole the Darkhold, not the White Sorcerer!" another Council member shouted.
"He's made fools of all of us!" another barked. "The public's calling for our heads! They're chanting his name like he's some kind of liberator!"
"It's not my fucking fault, both are the same!" Fury roared back, slamming his hand on the table. "That mist guy and the White Sorcerer are the same person!"
The Council fell silent, realization dawning across their faces.
One of the Council members slammed their fist on the table. "Goddammit, Fury! If they're the same person, that makes this even worse! We've been poking a nuclear bomb with a stick!"
Another leaned forward, face pale. "He's got control of mass media now. People think we're the villains and he's the savior. If he drops more footage, it's over. We'll lose all public trust—maybe even face full rebellion."
"Forget public trust," another snapped. "If he decides to come after us personally, there's nothing we can do. He's already wiped out global leaders without a sound."
Fury stood rigid, fists clenched at his sides. "I warned you he wasn't normal. You treated him like some upstart kid with too much power."
"And you still pushed him, Fury!" the first Council member barked. "This isn't like other enhanced threats! This is a force of nature—one you just gave a reason to burn everything down!"
There was a heavy silence as everyone tried to process the mess they were now in.
Another voice, older and colder, spoke up from the shadows of the room. "We have two options: appease him... or prepare for war."
"And what exactly can we fight him with?" someone sneered. "We couldn't even track him properly! He walked into our Military Convoy, stole a classified relic, turned invisible to our satellites, and now when we located him and tried to intimidate him, he's got mass support!"
"And you think war will fix that?"
The older voice replied, calm and merciless:
"If he wants a world on fire... then we burn it all down before he can claim it."
Fury just stared ahead grimly, knowing deep down—they had already lost the first battle.
*****
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