Solomon in Marvel

Shuri waited for a long time, but the portal didn't reopen.

She sighed and was about to return to her work when the familiar orange-red sparks flared up once more.

Solomon slowly walked through the portal.

His once pristine sleepwear was filthy, reeking of melted asphalt, his white sleeping cap singed and curled at the edges, giving off the acrid stench of burnt synthetic fibers.

Shuri's gut told her something wasn't right.

She sniffed—

There was sour beer, diapers, and—

Toads?!

Especially when Solomon reached into his pocket and pulled out a very, very sad-looking frog, Shuri's curiosity hit its peak.

"Weren't you just supposed to retrieve the plasma weapon?" she asked, watching as the mystic slumped onto the floor.

"Where's the weapon? And what's with the frog?"

"It was the only survivor." Solomon looked at the frog with genuine sympathy.

"It lived under a tree root by the roadside. When I found it, it was just sitting there—in the middle of a pile of burnt rubble. Completely dried out, covered in soot, not a single patch of wet mud left. Poor thing probably won't make it through the month."

"Are you serious?!" Shuri let out a sharp exhale, her breath forcefully leaving her nose.

That plasma pistol was her design.

She knew its explosive power.

If the frog had been anywhere near the blast radius, there wouldn't even be bones left to find.

She glanced at the holographic display on her wrist.

"It's only been thirty minutes. There's no way you couldn't handle such a small issue."

"I'm the head of R&D. I have clearance for certain covert operations."

"Fine."

Solomon's melodramatic expression vanished instantly.

He dusted himself off and casually got up from the floor.

And then he started explaining what had happened thirty minutes ago.

Of course, he left out some details—like what exactly he did to disable the weapon.

But when he got to the part about stealing a steamroller from a construction site and dropping it from the sky onto the villain's head, Shuri finally called bullshit.

"You're telling me you shut down the plasma pistol's power source without ever being seen?"

Shuri leaned forward in her seat.

"How?"

"Uh… You know… the switch?" Solomon blinked innocently.

"I just conjured a spectral hand, flipped it off, and—bam! Everyone lived. Bad guy captured."

Shuri took a deep breath, pulled up a chair, and slammed it down in front of him.

"There is no off switch on that thing."

Her fingers tapped against her wrist computer.

"You're seriously hiding this from me, Solomon? I haven't even asked what's locked away in your biological research labs."

His expression changed instantly.

The warmth vanished.

The humor evaporated.

The charming, lighthearted demeanor was gone—replaced by a cold, unyielding stare.

It was the look of an executioner.

For the first time, Shuri regretted saying those words.

"Why can't you just stay in your little bubble, Shuri?" Solomon's voice was quiet.

"Your brother asked me not to show you the worst parts of this world. I honored that request. I kept you away from the things in the biological labs."

His cold smile cut deeper than any blade.

"But fine. You want the truth? Due to your negligence, the plasma pistol exploded—and people died."

"Feel better now?"

"You should be grateful that I contained the blast. That no innocents were caught in it."

Shuri couldn't speak.

For the first time, she felt small.

She had always been brilliant.

She had always been powerful.

She had never been questioned.

But now—now, she was being judged.

"You're too naïve. Too childish."

Solomon's voice didn't rise—it didn't need to.

"You were born into power, so you have no idea what it means."

Shuri stayed silent.

"I won't punish you this time, even though trained special forces died because of your carelessness."

"Because they knew the risks."

"Because combat has casualties."

"Because accidents happen."

"But I want you to remember this."

"Your mistakes have consequences."

"There will be no next time."

"Do you understand?"

Shuri nodded.

"Say it again."

Solomon glanced at the other Wakandan staff in the room.

They all lowered their heads.

Not one of them defended Shuri.

She lowered her gaze further.

"I understand," she said quietly.

"Good."

Solomon stood up.

"Get some rest."

"Tomorrow, I'll be dispelling the abnormal weather in the region."

"It won't last long, but it's better than heating the atmosphere directly."

"Make sure the pilots rest up. They'll be very busy tomorrow."

And with that—he left.

But as Solomon walked out of the base, his expression darkened.

This wasn't just an accident.

This was a test.

King T'Chaka was probing the Eternal City.

Solomon refused to believe this was just Shuri's mistake.

She was naïve, but she wasn't stupid.

The weapon was dangerous, that was true.

It could explode, that was true.

But the part about accidentally signing permits?

That was a lie.

T'Chaka had a new bargaining chip.

He wanted to see how much leverage Solomon had.

A king raised in a world of palace intrigue… Cunning.

But Solomon was no fool.

And he knew who Wakanda had been talking to.

Elsewhere…

S.H.I.E.L.D. had tracked Marcus Daniels through Audrey Nathan.

The man had severe mental illness—Victoria Hand now knew why.

The whispers of shadow entities had rotted his mind.

Through Audrey Nathan, Hand could find Marcus Daniels.

And through Daniels, she could find Coulson.

That was why she insisted on leading this mission.

She had to warn Coulson.

"Honestly? Audrey Nathan looks a lot like someone else."

That was the first thing Hand said when she stopped Coulson's vehicle.

It wasn't relevant, but she found it amusing.

She motioned for her special ops unit to open the car door.

Inside, Jemma Simmons immediately shielded Audrey.

But the moment she saw Hand, her fear turned into relief.

"We have reinforcements?" she said, hopeful—

Until she realized something was very wrong.

"We didn't call anyone else… and after the Fridge fell, you were…"

Simmons' expression froze in horror.

She pushed Audrey back inside.

"You're Hydra!"

Agent Trip went for his gun—

But the special ops team slammed him against the hood.

He was a descendant of the Howling Commandos.

He had lost friends to Hydra.

He hated Hydra.

But Hand just smirked and patted the car door.

"Did Grant Ward tell you that?"

She tilted her head.

"You even stole my car."

"Where's Coulson?"

"I need to find him."

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