Howard Stark had seen Alex walk into the bar with a middle-aged man earlier.
So when Alex mentioned he was here to see a friend, Howard more or less had an idea who that friend might be and where he could be found.
That's why he didn't ask many questions and agreed readily, "Of course, that's not a problem."
Agent Carter, standing nearby, simply watched with cold eyes. She didn't say anything, nor did she intervene.
However, without a word, she subtly signaled a few nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.
As soon as Alex disappeared into the back of the bar, the agents quietly slipped out to stake out the back entrance—just in case he tried to sneak away.
Not that it would've made a difference.
Alex had no idea what Agent Carter was up to. He wasn't a trained spy—he didn't have that kind of hyper-awareness or instinct for reading a room.
But even if he had noticed, he wouldn't have cared.
He wasn't planning on leaving, after all. And if he had wanted to, no amount of agents would've been able to stop him.
As Carter's men began to move, Alex stepped into a narrow corridor.
The passage was cramped and long, with a small, almost invisible door at the end.
He couldn't help but roll his eyes.
Caliban really went all out. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was some top-tier fugitive. Was all this paranoia really necessary?
The door swung open—only for something cold and hard to press immediately against his forehead.
It was the same burly guy who had gone out to call Raven earlier.
Now he was holding a weapon to Alex's head, growling lowly, "Don't move. Try anything funny, and I'll put a hole in your skull."
Alex simply smiled and said nothing.
Then, suddenly, he raised his hand and gripped the barrel of the gun.
With a slight squeeze—
The sound of metal warping echoed in the hallway. When Alex let go, the barrel was visibly dented and crushed inward, five distinct finger marks pressed into the steel.
The big guy sucked in a breath, eyes wide with disbelief as if he were staring at a ghost.
Alex didn't bother with him any further. He brushed past and walked confidently into a large room ahead.
Raven's voice rang out.
She was seated inside, but a long sword was pressed tightly against her neck.
The weapon was held by a sharp-eyed woman with flowing hair and a dangerous aura—Psylocke.
Seated beside her was Caliban, his expression grim and cold.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Alex was genuinely stunned.
He came to ask Caliban for a favor—one he was even willing to pay for. How did things escalate to this standoff?
"Caliban was about to ask you the same thing," Caliban said darkly as he stood and pulled a gun from the drawer, leveling it at Alex. "So? What's going on?"
"Caliban, you've got it all wrong! We don't know what happened out there, I swear!"
Raven was frozen in place, blade still pressed to her neck, too afraid to move as she pleaded anxiously.
"Then how do you explain the gunfight outside the moment you showed up? Don't tell me that's just a coincidence."
Caliban clearly wasn't buying it.
"Let her go, Caliban! If we really meant you harm, would you still be standing?"
Alex was starting to feel a headache coming on.
Unfortunately... it was just a coincidence.
"So why didn't you tell me your real purpose from the start? Why did you bring S.H.I.E.L.D. agents here?"
Caliban barked, his gun still aimed straight at Alex.
Okay, no point explaining anymore.
Since things had already spiraled, might as well stop pretending.
Alex's eyes flicked to Caliban's gun. A thought sparked in his mind—
Twin beams of red-hot heat vision shot out and vaporized the weapon in Caliban's hand.
Psylocke's expression changed instantly.
Though she still held Raven hostage with one hand, she conjured a second weapon in the other—a glowing violet blade—and slashed at Alex without hesitation.
But in the blink of an eye, Alex vanished from her sight, reappearing across the room.
Another two heat beams fired. This time, the sword in Psylocke's hand flew from her grip, melted and destroyed.
It was clear now—this young man was far more dangerous than she'd thought. Splitting her focus was a mistake.
Realizing this, she let go of Raven and transformed her energy blade into a glowing whip, lashing out in a deadly arc.
But Alex moved like a cat, nimble and fluid. He dodged effortlessly.
The whip struck the floor, leaving a deep gash.
With a flick of her shoulder, Psylocke spun and struck again.
Three rapid lashes, but none hit their mark.
By then, Alex had already slipped past her defense and closed the distance.
Psylocke's heart dropped.
This guy was like a greased eel—slippery and unpredictable. Her barrage of attacks couldn't even slow him down.
She raised her arm for another strike—
But a hand shot out, clamping around her throat.
She could feel the strength behind that grip—if he wanted to, he could snap her neck in an instant.
"Raven," Alex said calmly, "did you get what we came for?"
Raven gave a quick nod.
Everything had gone smoothly at first. Caliban, always one to follow the money, had agreed to help her as soon as she paid.
But just as she was preparing to leave, gunfire broke out outside the bar.
The ever-paranoid Caliban had immediately assumed the worst and detained her.
"Let's go, Alex," she said, walking to his side.
This had all been a big misunderstanding. He wasn't about to take it personally or punish them over it.
He released Psylocke's throat, then turned and walked off with Raven without looking back.
"Raven, did Caliban sense Shaw?"
Alex asked as they stepped outside.
Raven shook her head, her face full of excitement. "No. He's not within Caliban's detection range!"
Caliban wasn't far from the Xavier estate—so if Shaw wasn't within a 25-mile radius, that meant the mansion was safe.
It was confirmation that Shaw hadn't found them.
That was good news indeed.
For 20 advanced chapters, visit my :
https://.com/Twilight_scribe1