Chapter 408: The Loyal Warrior

Skye stared at Solomon's hand like it was a weapon, her wariness evident. That hand was about to press against her stomach. Nearby, Fitz and Simmons eagerly hovered with their spectrum analysis devices, ready to document the process.

"Let me just say this up front: I'm ticklish," Skye grumbled, her tanned face now pale with irritation and embarrassment. "If you can get me off this bed, that's all I care about. And no scars, got it?"

"You're awfully demanding," Solomon replied with a roll of his eyes. Without another word, he pressed his hand against her forehead, holding her down on the medical bed as if taming a mischievous cat. To Skye, the gesture felt like the kind used by Baptist ministers during a baptism ceremony—except she was being pushed into the bed instead of into water. Baptists usually held a feast after such ceremonies, and don't ask how she knew that. Everyone had a time when they were desperate for a free meal.

Her stomach growled. She was starving. Since getting shot, she'd been limited to liquid meals and IV drips, the gnawing hunger in her belly a constant torment. Even magnesium tablets to neutralize her stomach acid weren't helping.

"We're concerned about potential side effects from GH-325, both short-term and long-term," Simmons explained, clutching her tablet. She glanced uneasily at Solomon's android maid, who stood silently in her armor nearby. Simmons immediately regretted mentioning GH-325 aloud—it was supposed to be a top-secret detail within the Coulson team.

"We're analyzing your magical spectrum," Fitz quickly chimed in, attempting to steer Solomon's attention away from the slip. "Then we'll monitor Skye's physical condition before and after your spell. If possible, I'd like to replicate your magical effects with technology. Your magic could save so many lives! And… I wouldn't mind learning from it. Not to discredit science, of course—I just think it's worth exploring from another angle."

"That's a great idea, Fitz!" Simmons exclaimed, jumping up in excitement. "Oh! But… do you think Coulson would allow it?"

"We'll keep it from Coulson," Fitz said confidently. "He'll never find out. We still have unused rune stones from last time. We can ask Solomon to make more for us."

"Ah!" A startled yelp brought their focus back to the room.

Fed up with their chatter, Solomon had lifted Skye's thin gray sweater, revealing her abdomen wrapped tightly in layers of gauze. With zero hesitation, he poked at the gauze, eliciting an angry glare from Skye. If her laptop wasn't on the table beside her, she'd have thrown it at his head.

Now she was puffed up like an indignant pufferfish, letting out annoyed grunts every time Solomon's fingers prodded her.

"Just hurry up!" she snapped. "Or I'll get up myself!"

"You're adorable, Skye," Simmons said, patting her hair with a satisfied smile.

Ignoring the protest, Solomon peeled back the gauze and placed his sanitized hand directly over the bullet wound on her abdomen. Moments later, after he removed his hand and wiped away the bloodstains, there was no trace of the injury left—no scar, no sign she'd ever been hurt.

"Jesus!" Fitz blurted, immediately poking at the now-healed area. "I mean, I shouldn't say that."

Skye, too shocked to be angry, craned her neck to look down. She tentatively pressed her fingers against her abdomen. "It's really gone?" she asked, her voice filled with awe. "I can get out of bed now? I can eat fried pork chops?"

"We still need to run a thorough checkup," Simmons said, beaming. "But I believe you're healed, Skye. Congratulations!"

"Okay, okay! I told you I'm ticklish!" Skye hastily pulled her shirt down, then offered Solomon a grateful nod. However, she couldn't shake the unsettling feeling she got from the way he looked at her—like a predator studying unsuspecting prey in the jungle.

"Are you alright?" she asked hesitantly.

"Couldn't be better," Solomon replied. The Kree genetic enhancement technology certainly warranted further study. Perhaps Asgard had similar techniques? And the Inhumans, a race unconnected to extradimensional forces, might also be worth recruiting.

"You're not taking this mission seriously at all!" Sif protested, her voice sharp as she confronted Solomon. "Kamar-Taj sent you here to complete this mission. Odin himself has ordered me to capture Lorelei alive. This is the All-Father's command, and even though we're on Earth, you must cooperate. I need her alive!"

"Really?" Solomon's tone subtly rose. "I'm well aware of your history with Lorelei. Can you truly restrain yourself from killing her?"

The northern wind seemed to sweep across Sif's face at that moment. "I can. I am a warrior of Asgard; my personal feelings are irrelevant," she said, taking a deep breath. She clenched her fists and held them out in front of Solomon. "Do not question my loyalty, Solomon!"

"What if…" Solomon dragged out his words, casting a glance at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who were clustered around a now-ecstatic Skye. The team's joy over her recovery was palpable, though Coulson himself seemed subdued. He was burdened by guilt, the weight of his rash decision to use GH-325 pressing heavily on him. He feared the drug's irreversible side effects on Skye, a fear that coiled around him like a venomous snake. Solomon, knowing the truth about GH-325 and the Kree, had been Coulson's best hope for reassurance.

Turning back to Sif, Solomon asked, "What if the command didn't come from the All-Father?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm asking, who told you it was the All-Father's command? Thor? Heimdall?"

"Heimdall," Sif replied instinctively, her gaze lifting as though seeking the stars—but all she saw was the steel ceiling of the aerial bus. "Are you suggesting Heimdall fabricated the All-Father's orders?" she asked, alarmed. Heimdall was her brother, and she couldn't bear the thought of him committing such a grave betrayal. "Why would he do that?"

"We can discuss this later," Solomon said abruptly, cutting off the conversation as Coulson approached.

After thanking Solomon, Coulson quickly shifted the topic to the mission, avoiding further discussion about Skye's condition. "We've screened police reports from the past 48 hours across several hundred miles," Coulson explained. "Using the profile provided by Lady Sif, we've identified a few cases that may be linked to the Asgardian fugitive."

"Here—a jewelry heist," Sif said, tapping one of the reports on Coulson's tablet. Coulson added another report of a robbery at a weapons store. The perpetrators, a local biker gang, hadn't bothered to conceal their identities.

"All men?" Sif asked.

When Coulson confirmed, Sif concluded that Lorelei had likely charmed the gang. She would need men to gather resources—gold and weapons—for her, just as she had six centuries ago.

"She's planning a rebellion," Sif muttered, her fists tightening. She turned to Solomon, her expression grave.

"You cannot participate in this mission," she said in a low voice. "Even Thor couldn't resist her magic."

"For the last time, I'm the heir to the Sorcerer Supreme. I'm a Kamar-Taj sorcerer. Do you really think her voice will affect me?" Solomon shot back.

"Remember, I need Lorelei alive!" Sif's gaze shifted to the android standing stoically behind Solomon. A thought struck her, and she leaned in closer, locking eyes with him. "Alive. Not a single finger missing. Do you understand?"

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