Nick Fury had a pounding headache, but the source of his frustration wasn't Solomon. In fact, after delivering his unsettling remarks, the sorcerer had turned into a model of compliance. The troublemakers were everyone else. Despite wearing ornate silver armor with a sheathed longsword slung casually at his side, Solomon was by far the most composed of the assembled group.
While the others argued incessantly, Solomon quietly read a book, showing no interest in the discussion. Apart from occasionally asking Dr. Bruce Banner for help with his homework, he barely moved.
Unlike Stark, Solomon seemed completely indifferent to Project Phase Two. He showed no signs of Captain Rogers' distaste upon seeing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s weapons derived from the Tesseract. This relieved Fury. He could guess Solomon's perspective: as long as humanity was preparing to defend itself, the sorcerer was supportive. It didn't matter if the weapons' designs originated with Hydra; what mattered was their intended use against extraterrestrial threats. That, Fury thought, was the mindset of a true protector of humanity. He found Solomon Damonet's pragmatic outlook reassuring—finally, someone who shared his priorities.
Why, Fury wondered, was a teenager more mature than most adults in the room?
It probably had to do with Solomon's unique upbringing. Fury knew about the incidents in Colin Town, the two Salem events, and the mysterious Solar Island incident that even S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't fully unravel. No other teenager had faced such brutal experiences while growing up. Fury never asked how many people Solomon had killed, but the sorcerer's current attitude was exactly what Fury wanted: pragmatic, unbound by societal norms yet steadfast in his dedication to humanity. Fury trusted Solomon Damonet because he understood him—and because Solomon understood him in turn.
They were both unwavering protectors of humanity.
Stark had no intention of involving Solomon in the ongoing discussions. He left J.A.R.V.I.S. to tutor the young sorcerer, ensuring Solomon remained in the conference room. Regardless of Solomon's capabilities, he was still a minor. Protecting the Earth was a job for adults—wealthy geniuses, legendary soldiers, brilliant inventors, and yes, even a certain green powerhouse. It wasn't a burden for someone who should be doing homework. They were here to shield people like Solomon, not drag them into the fight.
Captain Rogers didn't ask for Solomon's opinion either. Although he had once witnessed Fury and Solomon tussle like schoolyard bullies, he had dismissed it as a joke—like that ridiculous tickle curse. But after Solomon's chilling remarks, Rogers wasn't sure what to make of him. The sorcerer had revealed unsettling truths, but Rogers still didn't fully trust him. He knew Fury and Solomon were hiding things from him, but now wasn't the time to dig deeper.
Agent Romanoff had her own thoughts. She, more than anyone, understood Solomon's cold pragmatism. His warmth was reserved for those close to him; no one else could expect even a sliver of it. In fact, Romanoff was certain that if someone dear to Solomon broke the rules, he would execute them without hesitation. To him, rules were everything—a tool born to uphold order.
Across from Solomon sat Agent Coulson, awkward and silent. His task was to keep Solomon from wandering off, a job Fury had explicitly assigned. Both Stark and Solomon were key figures of interest to Fury, potential threats to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets. Coulson's role was simple: keep them under control and ensure they didn't learn anything they shouldn't.
"Why are you still doing homework?" Coulson asked, trying to start a conversation. "We've captured Loki. You should be providing intelligence to help with the interrogation. Aside from Thor, no one here knows Asgard better than you."
"Loki is cunning, like a devil—but worse, he's capricious and utterly untrustworthy," Solomon replied, glancing up from his notebook. "Loki is smarter than most people on this helicarrier because he's a spellcaster. For spellcasters, knowledge is power. The stronger the spellcaster, the smarter they are. Honestly, I'm curious how you even managed to capture him. If he didn't want to be caught, no one could."
Coulson's face turned pale. He hurried out of the room to report to Fury. The director had been right—Solomon was like a tightly sealed tube of toothpaste, requiring pressure to extract even the smallest amount of information. Still, Coulson couldn't deny the value of Solomon's insights, whether derived from divination or sheer deduction. Despite extensive research and an entire database dedicated to him, S.H.I.E.L.D. remained unable to uncover anything Solomon didn't willingly share.
Solomon, for his part, didn't care about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s plans. He was focused on ensuring events unfolded as intended while minimizing civilian casualties. To that end, he needed to prepare. However, his plans required the Ancient One's approval, which had yet to be granted. Though he could summon the legions of the 72 Demons he controlled, doing so would violate the Ancient One's interdiction against summoning entities in their true forms.
The distinction between summoning and calling was crucial. Summoning only brought forth an avatar, limited in power and time. Calling brought the entity's true form, which could remain indefinitely and bring allies, creating a potentially endless chain of reinforcements. Witches, constrained to summoning avatars, were allowed to live under the Ancient One's rules. Solomon, however, could call Phoenix in its true form—a dangerous act that could tip the scales but risk breaking the rules entirely.
For now, Solomon resigned himself to jotting down answers in his workbook. Shutting off J.A.R.V.I.S.' incessant chatter, he sighed. Why couldn't these aliens and interdimensional creatures attack on weekends? The Ancient One had already excused him from school multiple times. Even royalty didn't have such a busy schedule. He had classes tomorrow and still needed to adjust his sleep schedule to avoid dozing off in class.
Another reason to hate Thanos, he thought, adding it to his mental list.
Why was the helicarrier shaking so much? What was happening? Why was a bullet whizzing past him? And how had a grenade ended up at his feet?
Solomon yawned lazily, continuing his homework as if oblivious to the chaos around him.
"You little brat!" Fury shouted, yanking both Solomon and his chair out of harm's way. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"Relax. Those weapons can't hurt me," Solomon replied impatiently, waving Fury off. He still had plenty of homework left. Actions had consequences, and skipping school wasn't free—he was paying the price now.
"You knew this attack was coming, didn't you?" Fury demanded, crouching under the table.
"Mm-hmm," Solomon hummed, raising an eyebrow.
"And you knew Loki's plans?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"You didn't ask. Besides… some of what Loki's doing aligns with my objectives."
"Motherf—! We're going to crash!" Fury yelled.
"Don't worry. I can fly."
"Motherf—!"
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