[S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion — Director Fury's Office]
"Director?" Maria Hill spoke up, her eyes fixed on the live satellite telemetry playing across the main holo-screen. "Looking at it from a purely tactical perspective... whether it's these Gods of Death or the demonic entities, their operational destructive radius appears to be within a controllable threshold. Are we truly not going to prepare an active intervention?"
Inside Nick Fury's office, Phil Coulson, and Commander Hill were watching the localized war unfolding over San Venganza. The supernatural abilities displayed across the isolated battlefields were undoubtedly an eye-opener. However, after surviving the catastrophic Meliodas containment breach—which had nearly flattened an entire swath of the American continent—the scope of this clash hadn't even expanded beyond a small, desolate town.
"For the current containment level, the Avengers' combat capability is indeed sufficient," Fury replied slowly, leaning back in his leather chair. "But what about the second phase? The World Security Council has already issued a standing directive: as long as the collateral damage remains contained and poses no immediate existential threat to civilian society, S.H.I.E.L.D. will not intervene. Hill, there is zero tactical logic in provoking a god-tier faction for no reason."
Fury's explanation was measured, but his private rationale went much deeper. He knew the Shinigami were holding back; not a single Captain had unleashed their rumored Bankai yet. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s post-battle analysis of Vice-Captain Rukia Kuchiki freezing an entire town had left Fury feeling like there were cold needles in his spine.
'If a mere second-in-command can freeze an entire city block,' Fury thought grimly, 'how terrifying is the full force of a Captain?'
"The war between Heaven and Hell has nothing to do with our jurisdiction," Fury declared, clearing the main holo-display with a wave of his hand. "However, there is another security breach I need you to handle immediately."
He pulled up a secure file, displaying a high-resolution, three-dimensional rendering of an ancient bronze container.
"You all remember the major containment operation in Hell's Kitchen," Fury said. "It was all to secure this—the Bone Reliquary Jar. S.H.I.E.L.D. seized it from The Hand, but three days ago, it vanished from our most heavily fortified underground vault. Surveillance showed zero temporal or physical anomalies, yet the relic popped up on the black market hours later. By the time our strike team arrived at the exchange point, the buyer had already finalized the transfer."
Fury split the screen, pulling up a mugshot alongside a miniaturized vial of glowing crimson fluid. "This is Scott Lang. A habitual thief. Clint... you should recognize the entry vector."
Hawkeye's eyes narrowed as he recognized the fluid. "Pym Particles. He shrunk down to bypass the vault's physical sensor grid."
"Bingo," Fury confirmed. "We don't know if Dr. Hank Pym lost the tech, or if he's actively sanctioning these heists. That's your assignment: investigate Pym, recover the artifact. Our recent historical deep-scans indicate this jar is tied to an ancient entity known as the Dragon Race."
Deep within the void, Caelum observed the briefing with a subtle smile. By using the system's Book of Ages, he had seamlessly woven the Dragon Race into Earth's ancient mythos—a primordial empire that had fought a catastrophic war against Odin's Aesir long before humanity dominated the planet.
[San Francisco — The Pym Residence]
Tracking Hank Pym was an impossible task for standard law enforcement, but child's play for Tony Stark's global algorithms. Inside a quiet, unassuming residence, an argument was reaching its boiling point.
"You used the Ant-Man suit to play common thief?!" Hank Pym barked, pointing a furious finger at Scott Lang. "I knew it! A leopard never changes its spots!"
"Dad, stop being so harsh!" Hope van Dyne interjected defensively. "Scott was just trying to secure research funding for us! He had no idea it was a classified S.H.I.E.L.D. facility!"
"Desperation is not an excuse for burglary!" Hank snapped.
Scott Lang sat quietly on the sofa, rubbing his neck before standing up. "Look... I'll turn myself in. This heat isn't going away, and it's the only way to clear your name."
Before Hank or Hope could respond, a voice echoed from the open doorway.
"It seems we arrived just in time for the confession," Tony Stark remarked, stepping inside with his visor retracted. "A thief with a conscience... I was expecting a firefight."
"Avengers..." Scott gasped, his eyes widening in awe.
"That arrogant brat from the Stark family," Hank muttered under his breath, his face twisting with instant disdain.
Tony ignored Hank's scowl, walking straight over to sink into the armchair next to Scott. "Alright, Mr. Robin Hood. Tell us: who hired you for the heist, and who bought the jar?"
"I just took a high-paying gig off the dark web," Scott admitted, rubbing his hands nervously. "We're... pretty destitute right now. I never met the handler in person, but from his accent and speech patterns? He was definitely Japanese."
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Give me powerstones.
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