"Nick Fury," Smith Dole looked the man dead in the eyes. "Joining the Avengers doesn't mean I'm joining S.H.I.E.L.D., and it definitely doesn't mean I'm under your command."
"I joined this team for one reason only — to make sure this powerful organization doesn't get twisted into your personal weapon."
"More importantly, I'm here to keep a close eye on S.H.I.E.L.D. — to see if you're truly working for global peace."
"And that right to oversee things? That was one of my non-negotiable terms when I agreed to this."
"Start praying, Fury. You better hope there's no dirty business going on in S.H.I.E.L.D. — or you'll find out exactly what the Assassin's League is all about."
"I'll show you what it truly means when we say: Nothing is true, everything is permitted."
As Smith Dole's voice echoed with conviction, Bulma looked at him with sparkling eyes. This man, standing tall against authority, was just... breathtaking.
Meanwhile, Tony Stark sat nearby, looking a little annoyed. Damn it, did I agree to something too quickly? He's completely outshining me. I need to get a consultant title or something.
Nick Fury can't even control Smith Dole. What makes him think he can control me?
Nick Fury's face stayed expressionless, but inside, he was practically seething — like a million raging horses thundering through his skull.
This isn't a recruit. This is a walking nightmare.
Oversight rights, my ass. I'm shelving the whole Avengers Initiative. As for the base and classified intel? Smith Dole wouldn't get access to a single byte. He's not even a Level 0 agent. He'll never even figure out which way the damn front door opens.
But keeping a cool façade, Fury said calmly, "Smith Dole, do you really think I'm negotiating with you?"
Smith gave a scornful grin.
"Try me, baldy."
"Get your friends together, bring in whoever you want — let's see if you can bury my tech."
Tony cut in just then.
"Are you saying someone's seriously trying to suppress a device that tracks life energy?"
"Sounds like Stark Industries' legal team and some congressional allies need to step in."
Hearing that, and realizing Tony had publicly reframed the combat scanner as a medical diagnostic tool, Fury shot Stark a death glare and stormed out of the backstage room.
Once outside, he unclenched the pager that called Captain Marvel — his hand had gone clammy. His back was soaked in sweat, and fury raged inside him.
This is outrageous. Absolutely outrageous. Someone like Smith Dole should be locked up and dissected! What kind of backwards mindset is this?
But what Fury didn't know… was that in Smith Dole's eyes, he wasn't even human — just a rabid dog, a threat to society, a traitor in a nice suit.
Backstage, Tony looked at Fury's retreating figure and asked, "Dude, he's the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. You're really not afraid he's going to come after you?"
Smith Dole scoffed.
"Let him try. That'll just give me more reasons to tear him down."
"You think I'm just saying I'm keeping S.H.I.E.L.D. in check?"
"I honestly can't believe someone like him got picked to run a global agency. Was the last director blind?"
"Tony, you don't really think an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D. is full of saints, do you? I promise you — the corruption in there would make your head spin."
Tony nodded thoughtfully. That last bit struck a chord with him.
He quietly made up his mind — the Avengers should be led by the Avengers, not by people like Fury.
"Oh right, all that drama made me forget what I actually came here for."
"Bulma, can you redesign that combat scanner of yours into a modular unit? I want to integrate it with my armor and have J.A.R.V.I.S. run it."
Bulma didn't answer immediately — she turned to Smith Dole.
Smith nodded. "Help him out, Bulma. See if we can simplify the design."
She thought for a moment and replied, "I'll give it a shot. But I'll need the exact module dimensions and interface specs first."
Tony gave an OK sign, chatted a bit more, then discussed some ideas about the Avengers with Smith Dole before taking off.
Once he left, Smith turned to Bulma.
"Alright, now that everyone's gone, let's continue our plan."
"Let's move."
---
Smith Dole and Bulma left from the Dolby Theatre and started their tour around Los Angeles.
First stop — the Hollywood Walk of Fame. They checked out the celebrity handprints and signatures while Smith pointed out a few he actually recognized. They took plenty of pictures.
The staff on duty, seeing who Smith was, got excited and even invited both of them to leave their own handprints as special guests.
Next, they headed to Bubba Gump Shrimp Co., the seafood place themed after Forrest Gump, then followed up with dessert at Angelini Alimentari, a classic Italian sweet shop.
Later that afternoon, they made their way to LA's Chinatown, where Smith brought Bulma to a legit Sichuan hotpot joint — spicy, authentic, and mouth-numbingly delicious.
Their day wrapped up with visits to Little Tokyo, the Disney Concert Hall, Dolby Theatre, and more…
By the time they were heading back, Bulma — exhausted from the fun — leaned on Smith's shoulder and dozed off.
Smith looked down at her sleeping peacefully and smiled, not making a sound.
---
Meanwhile…
With the press conference making waves, Fox ramped up advertising hard. News of the "Power Level Scanner" spread like wildfire.
But at a price of $3 million USD, most people could only dream.
Still, the internet never lacked crazy rich folks.
When news leaked about Tony Stark's power level reading — just 4.5 — one billionaire immediately bought a unit, posted photos online, and bragged:
> "I'm a 5.5 now. I feel unstoppable!"
The comments? Flooded with attention from women:
> "Can we meet?" "Show me how powerful you really are~" "Let me feel that 5.5…"
Men, meanwhile, were obsessed with their own stats. One sneaky entrepreneur even saw a business opportunity — buying a scanner and charging $1,000 per scan. Bonus: a selfie with the device.
Some rich folks even started using the scanner to test their bodyguards — keeping the strong, firing the weak.
Very quickly, different applications for the device spread like wildfire online. Wearing one of these became a symbol of elite status.
---