"So, I'm Superman. But the 'Lite' version."
Lucas stretched, his joints popping with the sound of small firecrackers.
He was still grounded. He couldn't fly to the stratosphere yet. But he was bulletproof (mostly), strong enough to bench press a truck, and his senses were sharp enough to hear a pin drop in the next apartment.
"It's enough," Lucas decided. "For now."
He grabbed his sunglasses and a folding chair. "Time to photosynthesize."
He spent the next few days on the roof, soaking up UV rays like a lizard on a rock. It was the most passive training regimen in history, but it worked. Every hour under the yellow sun made his skin tougher, his muscles denser.
In between sunbathing sessions, he continued his "civilian" life. He tutored Gwen (who was acting weirdly shy lately). He checked the news for Tony Stark's disappearance (still nothing). And at night... well, a man with superpowers gets bored.
He started doing some light vigilante work. Nothing major. Just stopping muggers, bending a few knives, maybe tossing a car thief into a dumpster. He kept his face covered and moved fast. No costumes. No speeches. Just a blur in the night.
"I'm not Homelander," Lucas reminded himself as he crushed a handgun with his bare fingers. "I'm not here to be a god. I'm just here to survive until Thanos shows up."
He knew the risks. In a world with Dr. Strange and Odin, being a "Super" was dangerous. Magic could bypass his physical durability. And if the TVA or the Ancient One decided he was a variant... game over.
So he kept it low-key.
Stark Mansion. The Lab.
"Seriously?" Tony Stark threw a wrench across the room.
He glared at the open diary on his workbench.
June 14
Weather: Sunny. Still waiting for Tony Stark to be kidnapped. Day 5.
Come on, Tony. Get in the Humvee. The terrorists are waiting. My bank account is waiting.
I need that dip!
"Does he think about anything else?" Tony complained. "Is his entire life just waiting for me to suffer so he can make a quick buck?"
"Statistically, Sir, his primary motivation appears to be financial gain," Jarvis noted.
"He's broke, isn't he?"
"Compared to you, Sir? Everyone is broke. But yes, Mr. Chen's financial status is... modest."
"Can't we just wire him money?" Tony rubbed his temples. "Send him ten million. Tell him it's a 'Grant for Creative Writing.' Maybe then he'll write something useful instead of just complaining about the weather."
"I advise against direct financial intervention, Sir. It might alter his behavior unpredictably. If he becomes wealthy, he may stop writing altogether."
"Right. The Starving Artist trope," Tony sighed. "Fine. We let him starve. But if he doesn't give me a name soon—a name of the traitor, a name of the Ten Rings leader—I'm going to start writing him nasty letters."
Tony looked back at his holographic drafting table. The Mark 1 was evolving. It was no longer the clunky, cave-built scrap heap Lucas had described. This was sleek. It was aerodynamic. It was Stark Tech at its finest.
"Keep monitoring him, Jarvis. If he sneezes, I want to know."
The Triskelion. SHIELD Headquarters. Washington D.C.
"Code Red! I repeat, Code Red in the Director's Office!"
Alarms blared. Agents in tactical gear swarmed the hallway, weapons raised.
Inside the office, Nick Fury sat behind his desk, his single eye fixed on the object that had just materialized out of thin air.
It wasn't a bomb. It wasn't an alien device.
It was a black notebook.
"Clear the room," Fury ordered, his voice calm but authoritative. "Except for Hill. Everyone else, get out."
The tactical team hesitated, then withdrew. Maria Hill, his second-in-command, stepped forward, her gun still drawn.
"Sir? The scanners show no energy signature. No teleportation residue. It just... appeared."
"I know what I saw, Hill," Fury said, staring at the book.
He reached out with a gloved hand and picked it up.
The Diary of Lucas Chen (Nick Fury Copy).
"Lucas Chen?" Fury frowned. "Run the name. I want everything. Birth certificate, dental records, library fines. Everything."
"On it," Hill said, typing into her tablet.
Fury opened the book.
June 6
Waiting for Tony Stark to be kidnapped. Day 1.
Fury's eye narrowed.
"Stark?"
He flipped the page.
June 11
Once Tony Stark announces 'I am Iron Man,' the Age of Heroes begins. SHIELD won't be able to handle it. Hydra is already infested inside SHIELD anyway. They're just waiting for Project Insight to launch so they can kill everyone.
Hail Hydra, I guess? Or maybe 'Hail Stupid'? How does Fury not know his entire organization is a Nazi sleeper cell?
Fury froze.
The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Hill," Fury said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. "Stop the search."
"Sir?"
"Lock the doors. disable the listening devices. Turn off the cameras. Now."
Hill saw the look on his face. She didn't ask questions. She tapped a sequence on her tablet, and the room went into total electronic lockdown.
"What is it, Nick?"
Fury slid the notebook across the desk.
"Read the third paragraph."
Hill read it. Her face went pale.
"Hydra? Infested inside SHIELD? Project Insight?"
"He knows about Insight," Fury whispered. "That project is Top Secret. Only the World Security Council and Pierce know the details."
"And he says... we're infested."
Fury leaned back, his mind racing through decades of memories. Every failed mission. Every leaked intel. Every suspicious death.
"If this is true..." Fury said, his hand drifting to the pager he kept in his pocket—the one for the woman in the sky. "Then we don't just have a leak. We have a cancer."
"Who is Lucas Chen?" Hill asked.
"I don't know," Fury said, his eye gleaming with the cold, hard resolve of the world's greatest spy. "But he just became the most important person on the planet."