Across the entire Marvel Universe, with all its organizations—be they good, evil, or chaotic—Lake had only one thought.
None of his damn business.
But there was one exception: an organization with no real ability, yet constantly picking fights with the heavens above, the earth below, and even the air in between. Officially called S.H.I.E.L.D.—the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division—but in practice, it was more like the Busybody Bureau, always meddling where it didn't belong.
Lake had little fondness for S.H.I.E.L.D. To put it bluntly, about eighty percent of the Earth-ending crises in the future could trace their origins back to this group.
And...
Lake's peripheral vision landed on the bracelet on Natasha Romanoff's hand, his thoughts flickering. If his opinion of S.H.I.E.L.D. had been lukewarm before, now it wasn't just lukewarm—he wanted nothing to do with them, ever.
Until he could confirm who from Valoran had followed him here, Lake had already decided to keep a low profile as much as possible.
"Sir!"
Coulson's gaze shifted from the scooter back to Lake, "Can I see your ID?"
Lake smiled, "Do you have a warrant?"
Coulson: "...Sorry, what?"
Lake shrugged, "The FBI wants my cooperation? Sure, but do you have a search warrant?"
Coulson chuckled, "Sir, the FBI has the right to ask any citizen to assist in an investigation without a court order."
Lake nodded, pursing his lips, "Of course, but my lawyer told me never to deal with law enforcement alone. Every word I say could be twisted into evidence of guilt."
Coulson smiled, "Sir, you're too tense. I just want your name. Or is your identity sensitive? If so, that makes me even more interested in having you assist us."
Lake remained unfazed, "Sure, but getting me in is easy—getting me out, not so much. If you take me in now, I'll call my lawyer immediately, and I'll sue you and the FBI. So, Agent Coulson, do you still want to take me in?"
Bluffing, huh?
Who couldn't do that?
If Coulson were a real FBI agent, Lake might not have dared to push it this far. But times had changed, and Lake didn't believe Coulson would actually drag him to the New York FBI office.
In short.
The U.S. had a ton of law enforcement agencies, but only the FBI stood tall among them!
Coulson gave a dry laugh, "Sir, you're very cautious."
Lake said calmly, "Thanks. I just value my privacy a bit more, that's all."
Coulson pressed his lips together and glanced at Natasha, who gave him a subtle shake of her head. Coulson nodded slightly, then turned to Michaela, "Ms. Vicks, thank you for your cooperation. And you, Mr. Nameless, thank you. Goodbye."
Lake's expression didn't shift, "Goodbye."
Coulson put his sunglasses back on, gave Lake one last look, and then turned to walk out of the repair shop.
Soon after.
Two thuds of car doors shutting, the engine roared, and the black SUV sped off, disappearing down the road in moments.
Lake let out a quiet breath, one hand on his hip, the other wiping his face.
Shit!
Since when did Valoran team up with S.H.I.E.L.D.?
"Agatha!"
"Here, sir."
"After breaking Heimerdinger's rules, cancel the identity forgery plan."
"Understood!"
Lake stared at the ceiling. If Valoran really had hooked up with S.H.I.E.L.D., then without a doubt, if Agatha hacked into this world's database to forge an identity, Valoran's tech would spot it instantly.
The odds were slim, but better safe than sorry. How else had he managed to avoid crashing and burning for nearly a century in Valoran?
Too bad, though—when you walk by the river, your shoes are bound to get wet eventually.
And.
Time was running out. It'd take Agatha at least three months to crack Heimerdinger's rules, but Lake was certain Coulson would run a search on him the moment he got back.
But...
One option was instant death.
The other was a slow demise.
What choice did Lake have? Even a salted fish knew to flip over and keep salting—let alone a male god like him.
Back in the day, even when he'd crashed and burned, so what? He'd won back his girlfriends' hearts one by one. How? His charm?
Get real. It wasn't just charm—it required a divine body tough enough to withstand a beating.
Now?
His divine body was a hollow shell. And without knowing which girlfriend had followed him here, revealing himself rashly would be like a lamb walking into a tiger's jaws.
I need to put up a fight.
Lake thought, then looked up at Michaela with a smile, "I need to find someone who can forge me an ID."
Agatha wouldn't have time to whip up a fake ID now, so he'd have to pin his hopes on a local New Yorker.
And this was Marvel's New York—if he moved fast enough, he could probably get one before Coulson ran his check.
Michaela blinked.
Just then.
Buzz!
Thud!
Michaela's eyes widened as a ring of sparks popped up in front of her, startling her, "What the hell?"
Lake, meanwhile, looked on curiously.
The Ancient One, cloaked in a white robe, stepped out of the spark portal with her hands behind her back. She glanced at the startled Michaela, then turned to Lake, extending her right hand from behind her.
Whoosh!
Lake caught a card, glanced down at it, and chuckled, "Supreme Sorcerer, when did you sneak a photo of me?"
The Ancient One gave a faint smile but didn't answer.
The next second.
Michaela stared as the spark portal closed, dazed for a moment before snapping back and turning to Lake, "Who was that just now?"
Lake looked at the British ID with his photo and smiled faintly, "Her? The guardian of your world. Not a god, but a mortal with combat power rivaling an upper-tier deity."
Michaela: "..."
S.H.I.E.L.D. New York Operations Command Center.
"Sir, we've got something."
"Pull it up."
"Yes, sir!"
Coulson and Natasha walked into the command room, staring at the information displayed on the big screen.
Name: Lake Reese
Age: 28
Date of Birth: October 30, 1977
Address: 40 St. James Avenue, Holis City, London, Great Britain
National Insurance Number: YA169138C
Alongside Lake's photo on the screen was a detailed record of his life in Britain, from childhood to adulthood, down to the smallest details.
"Ha!"
"No wonder!"
"A Brit."