Fury entered the sitting room and stopped dead.
Sixteen Tons rolled through the suite from a Nokia speaker that sounded far too cheerful for the sight in front of him. Lucius had Natasha suspended a few inches above the carpet and was using telekinesis to move her through a slow dance as if she were both partner and decoration. One of her arms was lifted, the other angled in against an invisible lead. Her feet turned when he wanted them to. Her butt swayed when he clicked his fingers.
Lucius sang along to part of the chorus under his breath, badly on purpose, then hummed the rest with entirely too much enjoyment.
Natasha's face was worse than his own.
Coulson stepped in behind Fury, took in the room in one look, and then noticed that his hand had started tapping lightly against his trouser seam in time with the music. He stopped the second Fury's eye moved towards him.
Lucius gave Natasha another turn. She spun in the air with helpless, humiliating grace, came back round, and he let her drift there for a beat before releasing her into another slow turn.
Then he looked up and saw Fury properly.
His grin widened.
He sent Natasha into one last spin and left her turning gently while he opened both arms as if receiving an old friend into his home.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "slithering out of the shadows and dragging enough secrets to sink a battleship, give your reluctant applause for Director Nicholas Joseph 'Don't You Dare Call Me Nick' Fury." He drew the title out with pleasure. "The one-eyed overseer. The corporate slave driver of the terrorist organisation S.H.I.E.L.D."
He applauded enthusiastically for his own introduction.
Fury stared at him with the expression of a man who had already planned three murders before noon and found a fourth one arriving on schedule. All for the same target.
Barton's report had been sitting in his skull the whole way over. Romanoff's birth name. Noctis had used it too cleanly and too early for it to be luck. That meant he had reached into one of their heads, or both. That meant either one could already be compromised. Fury had kept that detail to himself on purpose. Coulson and Hill did not need it, and Romanoff certainly did not need to know that one more line had already been crossed. He preferred to keep at least one card in his own hand.
So while that damned song kept rolling through the room, Fury rolled it through his own mind as well. Mud, muscle and blood, sixteen tons and St Peter. Again and again and again. It was a good song. If Noctis went fishing in his head, he was going to find lyrics, irritation, and not much else. At least he hoped so.
"Sit down, Noctis."
Lucius laughed.
"Nick, Nick, Nick." He clucked his tongue and gestured towards the armchairs. "Why so cold? After how intimate we became when you tried to collar me like livestock, I thought we were past formalities. Come, have a seat. May I call you Nick?"
"No."
"That sounded emotional."
Coulson cleared his throat and pointed mildly towards the still rotating Natasha.
"Mr Noctis, would you mind stopping Agent Romanoff before she becomes permanently dizzy?"
The man stayed polite even while walking into madness. Lucius respected that a little.
He flicked two fingers. Natasha slowed, turned once more in place, then came to a stop with her back turned to him at a nice angle. He bent her a bit more forward, letting her... asset shine more and still hanging in the air. Lucius gave her a brief, appraising glance and then drifted back to the armchair where he had been sitting earlier.
"Happy?"
Natasha said nothing.
Lucius sat, crossed one leg over the other, and waited.
Fury moved to the opposite chair and lowered himself into it. He looked like a man who would have preferred to break the furniture over somebody's head. The song kept circling in the back of his mind, forcing the words into a rough loop. He believed repetition was better than leaving the door open. Coulson stayed standing for a second, then chose a position a little off to the side, close enough to intervene verbally and far enough not to look like a bodyguard.
The song kept playing low in the background.
Fury did not waste time.
"SHIELD extends its apologies for your treatment, Noctis." The words came out clipped and hard, every syllable dragged through resistance. "What you went through should not have happened."
Lucius listened with his head tilted slightly.
"Now, now, Nick." He waved one hand. "That is a good start, but where is the sincerity? You sound like a mother bear with a toothache."
Fury's jaw flexed.
Lucius leaned back deeper into the chair, perfectly comfortable.
"What did you think of the song, by the way?" He nodded lightly towards the Nokia. "I found it appropriate. Those old mining companies had a lovely talent for owning a man along with his labour. They reminded me of a certain one-eyed bitch who thought shackles, leashes and procedure were close cousins."
Fury ignored the jab. Sixteen tons. Another day older. Deeper in debt. He kept the line moving and gave Lucius nothing but his face.
Lucius sighed as if personally let down by the lack of appreciation.
"Fine. Since you are here and pretending to be civilised, let us list my humble requests again." He lifted a finger. "You wisely destroyed my home, made my beloved car vanish, and threatened me with prison. You lashed out at my business. You stalked me, prodded me, and generally behaved like armed vermin with credentials."
His voice hardened without becoming louder.
"And you stole my blood."
The last part came out almost as a growl. Even Natasha tried to look at him differently for a moment.
Lucius inhaled once, slow and controlled, then carried on.
"I have a feeling the unlucky accidents your organisation keeps suffering may stop if you simply apologise." Fury's mouth opened, but Lucius cut him at once. "Officially, properly. And while you are thinking that, you will also arrange a mansion somewhere outside the city, a few sports cars, a modest collection is fine, I am not a covetous man, along with a neat little guarantee that you and your terrorists will stop bothering me."
He smiled again.
"So. What do you say, Nick?"
Fury looked at him for a long second while the chorus kept grinding through his head. He was not about to let the bastard in his head.
The room stayed quiet apart from the low song still playing.
Fury finally spoke.
"Consider the house and cars agreed."
That surprised Coulson a little. Lucius noticed and enjoyed it.
Fury carried on before he was interrupted again.
"The apology can be formal. Public if it has to be." He leaned forward, eye fixed on Lucius. "What I want in return is simple. Whatever unfortunate accidents keep happening to SHIELD will stop immediately. No more sabotage, leaks, assaults and the potion business continues.
His tone shifted on the final demand, becoming less conciliatory and more like the man who usually gave orders for a living.
"You will start selling to us again."
Lucius stared at him for a beat.
Then he smiled.
It was not a pleasant smile.
"I think there is a misunderstanding, Nick." He laced his fingers loosely over his knee. "This is not a negotiation. You started this pissing contest. I am simply enjoying how unlucky your organisation has become. Those leaks must be a nightmare to deal with."
Fury was ready to explode. "You will stop your attacks!" He shouted.
Lucius's voice stayed conversational.
"SHIELD keeps having these little catastrophes, and somehow I am expected to take responsibility for your fragile systems? I'll add it to the charges." He nodded as if taking one more note.
"Additionally, I will not sell to terrorists, and you remain the largest terrorist organisation I know personally. There may be others. Some of them might even be charming. But they did not kidnap me, collar me, and steal my blood, now did they?"
Coulson stepped in before Fury could answer the insult with the wrong instinct.
"Mr Noctis, nobody is disputing that SHIELD crossed the line." He kept his tone level, practical, and maddeningly reasonable. "The Director came here because he understands that."
Lucius looked at him.
"He came here because he is losing assets, patience, money, and sleep."
"That as well." Coulson accepted the point without flinching. "But we are here now, and I would prefer not to waste the fact."
Lucius regarded him for a second, then nodded slightly.
"There. That is why I almost like you."
Fury turned his head a fraction towards Coulson, clearly not loving how quickly he had been identified as the least offensive item SHIELD brought into rooms.
Coulson went on.
"You want official recognition of wrongdoing, compensation, and a guarantee of non-interference. Fine. Those are concrete demands. But if you intend to escalate further by supplying criminal buyers with enhanced performance and combat potions while our infrastructure and personnel keep suffering these remarkably well-aimed accidents, then you are not asking for space. You are building a wider war."
Lucius gave a dismissive shrug.
"Perhaps the criminal buyers will prove more grateful." He paused just long enough to be insulting. "And perhaps your infrastructure is simply delicate. It is hard to say. I am not an engineer."
"They won't." Fury's answer came flat and immediate. "They'll use what you give them, take what else they can, and come back later with ten more demands and worse manners. And you are an engineer."
Lucius barked a short laugh.
"Nick, you have just described yourself."
Even Natasha's mouth almost moved at that.
Fury let the line hit the air and die. He was past arguing philosophy with this man.
"What happened to Romanoff?"
Lucius glanced over at her floating form.
"She tried to murder me during a meeting. I found that rude."
Natasha spoke for the first time since Fury had entered.
"I found organised superpowered crime a little more pressing."
Lucius turned his head towards her.
"And I found attempted murder during office hours very bad for efficiency."
Her stare did not soften.
"You admitted enough."
"I admitted taste." Lucius looked back at Fury. "She shot me three times. That was meant to be a diplomatic meeting. She ruined my suit. I had an emotional bond with that one. Now she gets to decorate the room until I lose interest."
Fury's expression did not change, but something heavier entered it.
"You will release her now."
"No."
The refusal landed cleanly.
Coulson tried again, quieter.
"Mr Noctis."
Lucius lifted a hand.
"Do not 'Mr Noctis' me into generosity, Coulson. She came here smiling, and then put three rounds into me because the answer displeased her. I am actually being very restrained."
Natasha's body shifted slightly in the air when his telekinesis tightened for emphasis.
Fury saw it. His face went colder.
"What do you want for Romanoff?"
Lucius looked genuinely pleased by the question.
"Now that is an interesting question."
He stood and took a few slow steps across the room, hands behind his back like a man inspecting property. Natasha turned in the air as he passed, not because she wanted to, but because he wanted the angle changed.
"What do I want?" He considered it theatrically, though not without thought. "An apology. Compensation. Cars. A house. Guarantees. Those were for me. Romanoff is separate. Romanoff is now a reminder."
Fury's eye narrowed.
"Of what?"
Lucius stopped beside Natasha and looked at him over her shoulder.
"That actions have consequences. That assassins should finish their work if they insist on trying it. That you do not get to trespass into my life, damage my property, collar me, bleed me, then send one of your sharper knives to smile over the table and act wounded when I dislike the service."
He laid two fingers against Natasha's jaw and turned her face slightly towards Fury.
"Also, if I am honest, she improves the room."
Natasha's eyes could have cut stone.
Fury rose halfway from the chair.
Coulson moved at once.
"Sir."
Just that one word.
It was enough.
Fury sat back down again by force.
Lucius watched the motion with visible delight.
"Oh, excellent. We are keeping our temper. I was worried you'd left it in the lobby."
Fury ignored him and looked at Coulson instead.
"Do you have anything useful?"
Coulson did not look away from Lucius.
"Yes." Then, still addressing Lucius, he continued. "If the Director agrees to your public conditions, the residence, the vehicles, and a formal non-interference arrangement, do you think the unfortunate accidents will stop?"
Lucius thought about that.
He did not rush, which annoyed Fury further.
"Against SHIELD generally? I'm sure they will."
Fury's hands tightened on the chair arms.
Lucius smiled faintly.
"But against specific assets tied to my kidnapping, my blood theft, and the amusing little pressure campaign you all ran around me? Perhaps, I could be persuaded to narrow my enthusiasm."
"That isn't good enough," Fury said.
"For you? No. For me? It is delightful."
Coulson took another step into the gap.
"What if we define the terms properly?"
Lucius arched a brow.
"Go on."
"You receive the public apology and the compensation. SHIELD agrees in writing not to interfere with you, your residence, or your business without due process and direct federal oversight. In return, the accidents on SHIELD systems, facilities, and personnel stop." He paused. "Past grievances remain unresolved, but no new ones are created."
Lucius considered him. Fury considered whether strangling one's own agent in a hotel suite counted as bad optics.
"And Romanoff?" Lucius asked.
Coulson answered carefully.
"She leaves here alive and intact."
Lucius looked back at Natasha, then at Fury.
She ruined my suit, he started and was cut by Coulson.
We will arrange three; you can choose the colours.
Lucius blinked once, then let a slow smile spread across his face.
"Now that is movement. Shoot a man in the head, insult his hospitality, and suddenly SHIELD discovers the healing power of tailoring." He looked at Natasha's back with open satisfaction. "You hear that, love? You are worth three suits. Try not to look too touched."
He shifted his gaze back to Coulson.
"I do appreciate the gesture. It is crude, transactional, and faintly insulting."
"See, Nick? That is how diplomacy works. Not by pretending you still hold the larger stick. You should learn from him." He pointed to Coulson.
Fury's voice came out like gravel.
"Anything else, Noctis?" He was fuming.
Lucius returned to his chair and sat again, easy as ever, as though the room contained nothing stranger than visiting colleagues and one floating assassin.
"All right." He tapped a finger once against the armrest. "Let's see. I want the apology to be public, not buried. I want the house deed clean. I want the cars registered in my name without games. I want written guarantees. I want no tailing, spying, or raiding, no amateur theatre from your subsidiaries, no more Black Widows with pistols, and no attempt to buy my cooperation afterwards by pretending it is patriotic."
He leaned forward slightly.
"And I do not sell to SHIELD. That part is dead. Bury it. You can try to buy from the Army or the old politicians."
Fury held his stare.
"That last part is the problem."
Lucius's smile returned in full.
"No, Nick. That last part is the answer."
For a second, the room sat in silence.
Then Lucius reached for the Nokia again, clearly prepared to choose another track if the conversation continued disappointing him.