With a soft "whoosh," Phoenix vanished in a burst of golden flames. Solomon pulled out his phone and dialed a number. After a few rings, a flustered young voice answered, soon replaced by Agent Phil Coulson's calm and steady tone.
Coulson sounded pleased to receive a call from Solomon. As a staunch S.H.I.E.L.D. loyalist, Coulson, molded by Nick Fury's influence, firmly believed in resolving matters through official channels—specifically, those controlled by S.H.I.E.L.D. While Fury refused to acknowledge Kamar-Taj's authority, Coulson was more pragmatic. He thought humanity needed greater exposure to mystical matters, including from Kamar-Taj, to ensure its growth and self-reliance.
Of course, while this philosophy sounded reasonable, Solomon hadn't cared enough to take it seriously.
"I honestly thought you were dead, Mr. Damonet," Coulson joked. "I found your obituary online. Of course, we knew it was fake since your official records hadn't been updated to reflect your 'death.' Skye tried contacting you on my orders, but when you didn't respond, she started speculating about ghostly callers. You gave her quite a scare!"
"I'll deal with that prank later," Solomon sighed. He still didn't know who had published the obituary but resolved to confront the culprit with a well-placed punch when he found them. For now, he had more pressing matters.
Handing the phone to Thor, Solomon gestured for him to speak.
"Hello, Son of Coul," Thor boomed, his deep voice vibrating through the phone. He leaned in close, nearly shouting as if worried the small device wouldn't carry his voice. "This time, we need S.H.I.E.L.D.'s help, my friend."
"I know you've arrived on Earth, Thor," Coulson replied. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is happy to assist. You might not have turned on a TV yet, but reporters are already swarming Jane Foster's apartment. Your photos are trending on social media." Coulson's voice turned cautious. "I see you brought Asgardian soldiers with you. Thor, this isn't another invasion by Loki, is it?"
"I'm hurt, dear Agent Coulson," Loki interjected, snatching the phone. Leaning in alongside Thor, he adopted a sinister tone. "You know I'm a sorcerer, yes? Familiar with mind-control spells, like the ones I used before? Ha-ha! Agent Coulson," Loki scanned the room dramatically, ignoring his current predicament, "shouldn't you express some… concern?"
Coulson raised an unimpressed eyebrow, though Loki couldn't see it. "You're not alone there," Coulson said flatly, his disdain evident. "And that scepter you used to wield? It's now in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody. Let's move on to the real issue. Thor, Solomon, I've already contacted agents in London to maintain order. Now, tell me what we're dealing with."
"Of course, Son of Coul," Thor said, his tone somber. "The explanation is lengthy, but Erik can help clarify the details."
Solomon stepped away from the conversation. Over the past few days, he couldn't shake thoughts of a certain witch. Though he dismissed it as hormones, it didn't stop him from yearning to return to his apartment, kiss Bayonetta, and briefly report to Kamar-Taj. As the one who had facilitated Asgard's support, he needed to provide an update. Besides, the Eye of Agamotto resting on his chest was a constant, uncomfortable reminder of responsibility—it was Kamar-Taj's most vital artifact, not something to casually parade around.
Meanwhile, in Athena's sanctuary, Phoenix found itself in an unexpected predicament.
"Why are you here, darling?" asked Little Lorna, her hands gently stroking Phoenix's golden-red feathers. Warm and plush, they brought a soft hum of approval from the mystical bird.
Phoenix hadn't intended to indulge in this treatment, especially in front of the sanctuary's clumsy, hopping owls. But given Solomon's connection with Lorna, the bird deigned to tolerate it, lifting its head regally.
This is for my master, it thought.
"What did Solomon send you for?" Lorna asked sweetly. "Does he need something from Minerva? Oh, wait—she's busy cooking… she said she'd make Mediterranean tonight." Lorna grinned smugly, shooting a triumphant look at the owls perched nearby.
"It's neither, Miss Lorna," Phoenix replied gently. "My master sent me to fetch his shield. I've already wasted enough time and must hurry along."
Back at Solomon's apartment, chaos awaited.
"Good grief!" Solomon's entrance was met with calamity as he stepped on a wine bottle, sending him sprawling to the floor. His undignified fall drew laughter from an unexpected onlooker.
"Hah! Even mages can slip!"
"What are you doing here?" Solomon glared at the woman in a black swimsuit standing over him. "Salome Shaw! Why are you in my apartment? Why are you wearing a swimsuit? And why are you holding my collection?"
"Swim party, kid," Salome Shaw replied nonchalantly, downing a glass of whiskey—Solomon's prized bottle, meant for display, not consumption.
"What is going on?"
"Your girlfriend invited me." Salome tugged at her swimsuit strap. "She decided it was too early for the beach, so she's throwing a party here. I've never seen legs as long as hers—what the hell does she eat? Anyway, this drink is fantastic… you guys even have an artificial sun! Magic is amazing…"
Solomon's eyes widened. "Artificial sun? What?"
"Take a look yourself," Salome said, waving him off with a hiccup. "Oh, and don't let your eyeballs pop out."
Indeed, the living room featured a glowing sun—a fragment of Jubileus' halo suspended midair.
Beach chairs lined the room, where Bayonetta and Jeanne lounged in black and white bikinis, sipping cocktails. Their glistening, sun-kissed skin exuded a tantalizing mix of sunscreen and alcohol. The minimal fabric of their swimsuits left little to the imagination, showcasing their sculpted figures and impossibly long legs.
Solomon knew the witches favored daring fashion, but this was another level. Their bikinis clung high on their hips, leaving their flat stomachs completely bare. The scant material over their chests barely covered them, hinting at hidden treasures with every subtle movement.
Even the alchemical automaton was dressed in swimwear, standing awkwardly to the side.
"This isn't swimwear!" Solomon exclaimed internally.
"Boya," Bayonetta drawled, tilting her head lazily as she untied her bikini top. Her languid movements and teasing sighs sent shivers down Solomon's spine. "You're just in time. Help me reapply sunscreen. Consider it preparation for your long-overdue coming-of-age celebration~."
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