"This is… Magneto?"
Hill, whose face was usually calm and cold, stared in surprise at the frail old man in strange clothes who had just fallen to the ground. She then raised her head toward Harry, who had descended from the sky. It wasn't really a question—more a moment of disbelief. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s main purpose was dealing with supernatural events, and the infamous leader of the mutant faction was someone she certainly recognized.
"As you can see." Harry shrugged.
"Magneto? You mean this weak old man?" Tony, who hadn't yet left, stepped forward after hearing the name. He looked down at the white-haired man in surprise—the villain in question didn't seem like a terrorist at all, just a tired old man.
With a wave of his hand, Harry removed the protective field surrounding Magneto.
"What are you going to do with him?" Hill asked, regaining her composure.
"Do with him? Don't be ridiculous. I've got no intention of offending that bald old man at Xavier's school because of this." Harry's tone was light and teasing.
"Then you brought him down to see me because you want to hand him over to us?" Hill guessed.
"I don't mind if you do. Handle it however you want. I just want this—this is all I came for."
Harry bent down and lifted Magneto's helmet, the one that could block telepathic abilities. Although he knew his own invisible field could resist psychic power, he wasn't sure it could withstand a telepath of Professor X's level. Magneto's helmet, then, was a perfect solution.
"Even so, I still have to contact Director Fury. Someone like Magneto has to be handled carefully, even by our department," Hill said. She appreciated Harry's cooperation but knew this was above her authority.
"I said, do whatever you want," Harry replied with an amused smile at her caution.
Hill nodded, stepped aside, and began calling Nick Fury.
Harry paid her no mind. He pursed his lips and studied the helmet in his hand.
"Ding Dong."
"Unowned item detected — 'Psychic Isolation Helmet' (30). Convert to points?"
The system's voice echoed the moment he took it. Harry immediately declined the conversation.
"Tony, are you interested in him?" Harry asked, noticing Tony's curious stare at the fallen Magneto.
"Ah… a little." Tony hesitated, still gazing at the old mutant.
"Because of his ability?" Harry raised a brow. Magneto's power over magnetic fields made him a natural counter to Iron Man. No matter how advanced Tony's suits were, they were still metal.
"Yeah, but..." Tony trailed off, then turned and took a deep breath.
"I don't want to cross that line. I'd never sleep again if I did. Okay, I'm heading out."
Without another glance, he shoved one hand into his pocket, waved the other casually, and walked off into the dark grass. His retreat looked carefree, but Harry knew better—Tony's heart wasn't nearly as calm as his stride.
"Heh. He's really a good man. A true hero," Harry murmured with a faint smile. He respected Tony's choice, even though he wasn't sure he could have done the same.
"Heroes are destined for tragedy. That will never change."
Though weak, the old Magneto had felt Tony's cold gaze long enough to know he'd been judged. He sneered as he raised his head. "But villains will always be villains—and that, too, never changes."
"Hmph. So the villain will always stay a villain. That's a fact that can't change either," Harry snapped back coldly. He might not be the same as Tony, but he wouldn't allow anyone to trample on the man's convictions.
Light—no matter how deeply buried—still exists.
At that moment, Hill returned from her call with Nick Fury.
"Fury asked me to hand Magneto over to government custody. I'm sorry, Mr. Osborn, but I can't accept your help."
Harry wasn't surprised. "As expected." He shrugged, unaffected. Fury's rejection confirmed what he already suspected—S.H.I.E.L.D. Wouldn't ally with him. But that was fine; he had other plans in motion.
Hill didn't know what he was thinking. Her rejection made her feel slightly embarrassed, but she kept her posture steady. The silence that followed felt awkward even for her, someone trained never to lose composure.
"That's that, then. I'll be off." Harry waved, turned, and left.
"What a strange man," Hill muttered, shaking her head. She couldn't begin to guess what was going through his mind.
…
The blue supercar roared down the empty road, disappearing into the distance.
"What Tony said was right—I really can't handle short drives," Harry muttered as he stepped out after parking.
Back at the Osborn estate, he drove through the front gate and slammed it shut behind him. The car would be handled by the staff later.
"Sir, you're back," said Old Al, stepping forward to take the keys. He didn't question the helmet Harry still carried.
"Yeah." Harry nodded.
"Where's Felicia?"
"Miss Hardy has already gone to bed," the butler replied.
"Oh. Go get some rest, too, Al." Harry waved him off, climbing the stairs.
"Yes, sir." Al bowed and retreated.
Harry opened the bedroom door quietly. Felicia was fast asleep, her breathing soft and steady. The sight made him smile faintly—her peaceful rest eased his mind more than anything else. As a man, Harry didn't want his woman to ever have to worry.
He set Magneto's helmet down on the floor, took off his clothes, lifted the quilt, and slipped into bed beside her. The warmth beside him brought a rare sense of peace.
And for the first time in a long while, Harry Osborn slept soundly.
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