As the Avengers stepped into the sunlit courtyard, their footsteps echoing on the marble tiles, the atmosphere held a strange mix of tension and curiosity. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance, as if unaware that some of the world's most powerful individuals were gathering here.
Michael rose from his seat, giving a polite nod but saying nothing at first.
Tony was the first to step forward. Dressed in a dark jacket over a casual shirt, he extended his hand with a faint smile.
"Tony Stark. Though I'm guessing you already knew that."
Michael shook his hand with a firm, deliberate grip.
"Michael White. And yes, I've seen your resume... quite explosive."
Next came Steve Rogers, in jeans and a navy sweater, nodding respectfully.
"Steve Rogers. Thanks for agreeing to this."
Michael's gaze lingered on him. "Captain America. The man who always tries to do the right thing... even when it goes sideways."
Natasha Romanoff stepped up beside Steve. Her simple black attire was sleek, efficient. "Natasha. You can skip the analysis."
Michael smirked faintly. "Fair enough. Your reputation speaks loudly enough."
Bruce Banner offered a quiet nod, dressed modestly in khakis and a button-up. "Bruce. I'm... just here to listen."
"Hmm. Smartest one in the room, and still knows when to stay silent. I respect that," Michael replied.
Then came Clint Barton, hands in his pockets, wearing a hoodie and jeans.
"Clint. Let's keep this friendly, yeah?"
Michael gave a short chuckle. "Depends on who draws first."
Finally, Thor stepped forward, arms open like greeting an old friend.
"You already know me. Thor of Asgard, God of Thunder, and... occasional diplomat."
Michael gave him a more genuine smile. "Thor. At least one of you knows how to knock on a door instead of kick it in."
They all slowly took their seats around the courtyard table. Mia, ever graceful, began serving tea and refreshments in silence, letting the tension settle as the meeting prepared to begin.
Tony leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled as he glanced toward Steve, then looked directly at Michael. The air was thick with unspoken questions, but Tony didn't hesitate.
"Alright, let's not dance around it. Why did you leak the video of the nuke strike authorization on New York?"
The table went quiet. Even Thor, who had been halfway through sipping tea, set his cup down slowly.
Michael didn't answer immediately. He looked down at his tea, swirling it gently before setting it aside.
Then he met Tony's eyes — sharp, steady, unapologetic.
"Ask that idiot director of yours why he tried to pin the blame for the alien attack on me," Michael said, sneering, as the others looked at him, expressions darkening.
"Wait... Director Fury tried to blame you for the alien invasion?" Clint asked, confused.
Michael nodded. "Yup. And when I pulled out the truth, suddenly I was the problem."
"Anything else?" Michael asked, his tone cutting through the silence like a blade.
"Tch. And here I thought there was something wrong with you," Thor muttered as he exhaled through his nose. "Turns out their leaders are as twisted as some I've seen on other realms." He stepped forward, setting Mjolnir on the table with a firm thud.
"Midgard wants war, you say? Strange way of asking for peace," Thor continued. "But if war is what they seek, I'll stand beside justice — not politics. Still, I'd prefer we talk first."
Michael nodded slightly, eyes flicking to the others. "Then let's talk. Sit down. Be honest. I'll listen."
The others exchanged glances, tension still in the air but softening just a bit as they followed Thor's lead and took their seats around the courtyard table, ready — or at least willing — to begin the conversation.
Natasha's eyes narrowed, but she kept her voice even. "Let's say Fury did try to pin the alien invasion on you. Why steal the Darkhold? You knew what kind of chaos that could bring."
Michael leaned back slightly, one hand tapping the table rhythmically. "Because it's a weapon — powerful, dangerous. Just like the Tesseract you lot were so casually experimenting with when it attracted the Chitauri. That mistake cost New York lives."
He turned his eyes to her, unwavering.
"The Darkhold is worse. You think aliens are bad? The entities that can be summoned through that book would wipe out minds before bodies. You die just by seeing them. And your precious S.H.I.E.L.D. was poking at it like a shiny toy."
He folded his hands. "So yeah, I took it. Because the last time you all played God, it nearly ended humanity. I wasn't going to let that happen again."
There was a long pause. Then Clint muttered, "Well… crap."
Steve leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Then why not come to us? Why go behind everyone's backs and make yourself look like the villain?"
Michael gave a quiet, humorless laugh. "Come to you? The same people who work under secret councils, who greenlight nuclear strikes in populated cities just to contain an alien threat? You think I'd trust the same system that tried to erase me just because I didn't fall in line?"
He stood slowly, walking toward the edge of the courtyard, hands behind his back.
"I'm not interested in being a hero under someone else's rules. Not when those rules are written in blood and rewritten in shadows. You all wear costumes to give people hope. I wear mine to give people truth."
He turned around, facing them again — calm, but firm. "And the truth is, the world was never ready for the power it holds. You've already proved that more than once."
Tony exhaled and looked down at his hands. "…He's not wrong."
Thor nodded solemnly. "He speaks as one who has seen war from all sides. I do not agree with his methods, but I understand them."
Natasha crossed her arms. "So what's your endgame, then? You've exposed S.H.I.E.L.D., taken the Darkhold, shaken the world. What now, Michael?"
Michael's eyes narrowed just a fraction. "Now? I wait. Because there are worse things coming — and I'll be damned if I let you people fumble the ball again."
The group exchanged looks, tension hanging heavy in the air.
*******
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