Chapter 45: Are You Dumb?

Seeing Nick Fury's move, Luke nearly burst out laughing. The legendary director of S.H.I.E.L.D., commander of the most powerful intelligence agency on Earth... couldn't escape the lure of his lucky cat's influence. The black eye patch Fury held wasn't even special. Luke had whipped it up casually when restocking the shop. And yet, Nick Fury had actually been drawn to it. Sure, it looked like the one he already wore, plain, functional, no design flourishes, but apparently, to Fury, this one was somehow superior. 'Is this what Coulson was raving about?' he wondered. Fury, without hesitation, pulled out his wallet. A thick wad of bills peeked out, enough to make Wanda look up instantly from her money-counting session like a shark catching the scent of blood. Her eyes locked onto that wallet like heat-seeking missiles. She squinted. Then, confidently raised five fingers. "Five hundred dollars!" she announced before Luke could even speak. "That eyepatch is premium material, handcrafted! A one-of-a-kind treasure of our store. Anywhere else, it would go for at least eight hundred." Luke blinked. He almost wanted to applaud. He was no match for Wanda when it came to robbing people blind with a straight face. Fury reached for his wallet. But before the bills came out, Luke raised a hand to stop him. Even Wanda looked stunned. "What are you doing?" her expression screamed. You don't want the money?! She wondered if she'd miscalculated. 'Maybe he wants more? A thousand, maybe? There's at least two grand in there...' But Luke had other plans. He smiled, shrugged casually. "Actually, that eyepatch isn't for sale. It's the only one in existence. But... since it's you, I might consider a trade." Fury raised an eyebrow. A trade? Even Wanda and Sharon leaned in, curious. Luke didn't rush his answer. Instead, he slowly pulled out a pair of glasses from his pocket, plain, old-fashioned, well-worn. He began cleaning them with the corner of his shirt, methodically, deliberately. As he turned slightly to the side, the lenses angled perfectly toward Sharon. Then he blew a warm breath across them. A subtle move, but very deliberate. No one said a word. All three were silently waiting for what he'd say next. Luke took his time. Polished the lenses until they were gleaming. Then, just as slowly, slipped them back into his pocket. Too dangerous to wear them now. Not with Wanda and Fury both in the room. No need to invite nightmares. But in that brief moment, as he'd blown air on the glass, he saw everything he needed, just a quick check to confirm the quality of the goods. Finally, as tension thickened in the room, he spoke: "As a newly appointed Avengers consultant," Luke began, "shouldn't I be assigned an assistant?" Before Fury could reply, Luke added casually, "I think Sharon's very suitable. Capable, professional, perfect assistant material." "No!" The response was thunderous. All three: Fury, Sharon, and Wanda, shouted in perfect unison. Even Luke jumped a little. "Okay, what the hell?" he muttered. "Why are all of you against this?" He turned to Wanda, pulling her aside. "I'm just asking for an assistant. What's your problem?" Hands on hips, Wanda glared up at him defiantly. "Don't act dumb. You just want that woman because she's pretty. So I'm saying no. Not allowed!" Luke's temples throbbed. 'For the love of Stan!' 'I'm just a man, okay? Why can't I be around other women just because my little sister throws a tantrum?!' 'And I wasn't even thinking that!' 'I honestly just want an assistant!' But there was no point arguing logic with Wanda when she was like this. Luke leaned closer, whispering into her ear: "Are you dumb? I'm trying to get you a free salesperson." Wanda blinked. Luke kept whispering, "You saw how busy we were today. We can't handle this alone. But hiring someone? That's a couple grand a month at least. Are you going to pay for that?" Wanda paused. The math hit her like lightning. Free help... versus spending her hard-earned cash? No contest. If she had to pay out of pocket, she'd rather collapse from overwork. She gave a slow, thoughtful nod. Luke grinned, 'gotcha!' He returned to the counter, where Sharon was already voicing her protest. "I'm a high-level agent," she was telling Fury, voice firm. "I've handled national crises. You want me to be an assistant... in a grocery store?!" Luke gave a light cough. "Avengers consultant's assistant," he corrected with a smile. Sharon didn't even dignify that with a reply. She looked at Fury, expecting him to say something rational. Being assigned as a mere assistant would be a humiliation, a complete waste of her talents. Fury just pinched the bridge of his nose. ...