Solomon in Marvel

Stacks of white candles flickered and climbed the towering stained-glass windows, illuminating the high platform and the figure clad in a deep red ceremonial robe. For the first time, Tita stood there, draped in ornate garments, her heart pounding. She inhaled deeply, letting the warmth of incense-scented air fill her lungs. The candlelight behind her cast trembling shadows at her feet. Closing her eyes, she recalled the lines she had repeatedly rehearsed in her quarters.

"There is no place left for you in this world, save for here, where you shall be reborn."

It was a powerful opening statement, one she had agonized over for a long time before writing it down. Now, as she declared it aloud, all her nerves faded. Tita transformed into "Lady Tita," the figure her audience would soon revere. Words became both her armor and weapon.

Before her stood hundreds of girls, newly bathed and dressed in plain white linen. Their ages ranged from under ten to well over eighteen. They came from different backgrounds, faiths, and had suffered varying degrees of abuse.

The crimson-robed human constructs moved silently among them. The girls' faces were filled with fear and sorrow. Most trembled at the uncertainty of their futures, still haunted by the trauma they had endured. They had witnessed their captors—the monsters who had exploited and tormented them—cut down by bullets or crushed under the steel boots of armored warriors. Their hellish prisons had been obliterated in a rain of artillery fire, reduced to smoldering ruins.

To these girls, the human constructs were divine avengers, descending from the heavens on wings of steel in answer to their desperate prayers.

"Raise your heads! Do not pray to false gods of the void!" Tita's commanding voice echoed throughout the vaulted hall, reverberating like thunder. "We saved you! I am Tita, commander of the battle squad of the Sisterhood," she declared. "I serve the one who delivered you from your suffering. By the command of our Master, I have come to grant you salvation!"

Tita surveyed the crowd from her vantage point. Some girls bore fresh wounds, the bandages around them already stained with blood. Their ordeal had left deep scars both physically and mentally. Yet, they were the fortunate ones. The Sisterhood could not save everyone, nor could they annihilate every Albanian crime syndicate in a single operation. Still, the mission would continue. More girls would be rescued in the coming weeks and months.

The medical units of the Sisterhood administered treatment to the survivors, distributing medicine and hygiene supplies. Even those with permanent injuries were brought to the Eternal City to receive care and education. The wounded would undergo extended recovery, but for now, the Sisterhood was eager to instill their beliefs in these girls.

"Your suffering ends today!" Tita's amplified voice surged through the hall, reverberating off the cathedral-like architecture. "Here, you will find no more pain! No more torment! This place is your home now! We are your sisters!"

"Join us! Become one of us!" she proclaimed. "No matter your health or condition, so long as you uphold our faith, you shall be our sister! You live by our Master's will and shall die by our Master's will!"

"Kneel! Pray to our Master!" Tita took a brass statue from a wooden box handed to her by a fellow sister and raised it high above her head. All around her, the members of the Sisterhood echoed her command in unison. After a moment of hesitation, the rescued girls obeyed, falling to their knees. Even without the threat of whips or punishment, they understood they could not defy those who now controlled their fate.

"Kneel! Pray to our Master!" Katherine addressed one of the younger girls, a trembling blonde child. The girl's terror was palpable. Katherine frowned, gently placing a hand on the girl's head to comfort her. "Pray to your savior," she whispered softly. "Do not fear. Your life will now bring joy to our Master."

"You are not anyone's slaves! You shall become emissaries of our Master!" Tita's voice roared through the hall once more. "One day, you will wield weapons in our Master's name. Pray now, and pray for that glorious day to come!"

Meanwhile, Solomon had no knowledge of the dramatic events unfolding within the Sisterhood. He had just endured an insufferably dull cocktail party.

Due to Stephanie's habit of clinging to his arm, many had mistaken Solomon for the Malik family's "kept man." He paid it no mind; he had little interest in American politics. This, however, was a point of frustration for Stephanie, who constantly tried to fix his hair, finding his casual attitude exasperating.

"'Crass' and 'opportunistic' are the only words that come to mind," Solomon remarked, raising an eyebrow. "Not to mention the unbearable stench of cheap cologne."

"This country is ruled by fools, but under your leadership, those fools will cease to exist," Stephanie said gently as she helped him remove his tie. Solomon rolled his neck and let out a long sigh of relief. Even the formal luncheons at Merton College felt less stifling than the political scheming he had just witnessed.

"I remember a book I read once," Stephanie mused. "It described elected politicians as puppets—pigs herded by unseen masters, with the president being the dumbest pig of them all. My father is one of those puppet masters. Have you heard of Epstein? He used similar tactics to control an entire network of politicians and evade justice."

"I remember that the federal government struck a deal with him," Solomon replied.

"Indeed. Corruption and bribery permeate this nation. It's a place where stupidity begets more stupidity. Nothing that happens here surprises me anymore," Stephanie said with a smile. She carefully draped Solomon's suit jacket over her arm, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt. Her heartbeat quickened, though she did her best to hide it.

"This world is on the brink of change," Stephanie continued. "My father says Alexander Pierce's faction is preparing to make their move soon."

Solomon smiled warmly at her. He was pleased—Stephanie was proving herself both observant and loyal.

"The Insight Program will fail," he assured her. "But we need it to serve as a distraction for S.H.I.E.L.D." Solomon poured himself a glass of wine. His cellar was fully stocked now, and red wine had become his drink of choice. "There's no rush. If Pierce and his Nazi cronies think they can control the world with three helicarriers, reality will teach them a harsh lesson."

"Are you implying the Avengers will stop them?" Stephanie perched herself on the armrest of his chair. Leaning closer, she twirled a strand of his hair around her finger. "How do you compare to Thor? He's every American girl's dream."

"You mean that golden retriever of a man?" Solomon chuckled. "I am recognized by the Allfather himself as the heir to Kamar-Taj. Asgard and Midgard are bound by treaty, making Thor and I equals. He's a crown prince, and so am I."

"Do you have any other plans?"

"Tell me about Hydra's youth training camps," Solomon said with a smirk. "I have a feeling there's something there that might interest me."

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