MASTER OF MARVEL WORLD

"What Coleson said is simple enough," Nate Locke mused as he reviewed the latest intelligence. In recent investigations, it had become increasingly clear that the weapons used by the various gangs terrorizing the city might have flowed directly from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own arsenal. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s state-of-the-art armory was not solely developed in-house—some items were purchased via military channels. This latter stream of procurement had long been overseen by none other than the agency's formidable operations head, Agent Maria Hill.

"Are you implying that Agent Hill might be compromised by Hydra?" Nate asked, a note of incredulity lacing his voice as he confronted Coleson in a quiet briefing room within the Stark Industries compound.

Coleson shook his head firmly. "No, we're not suspecting Agent Hill herself. We believe that some of her subordinates might have been infiltrated—and there's even a possibility that military channels are involved. We can't act rashly, though. It's too big an issue."

Nate frowned slightly, his mind racing through the implications. "I'm not exactly cut out for deep investigations…" he admitted, his usual cool detachment wavering ever so slightly as he considered the enormity of the situation. Memories of countless covert operations swirled in his mind—operations that had never required him to doubt the loyalty of his mentors. Yet now, doubts were creeping in.

Coleson's gaze was steady and uncompromising. "We're sending in another trusted agent to assist with this operation," he explained. "Your task is straightforward: sneak into the facility we've identified, verify whether there are arms stored there, and if so, destroy as much as you can. The plan is simple: blink in, check it out, and blink out if the situation deteriorates."

Nate allowed himself a moment to relax at the simplicity of the mission. After all, with his vast array of abilities, most conventional weapons posed little threat to him. "I need some time to think it over," he said. "I'll get back to you tomorrow once I've processed all of this."

Coleson studied Nate's determined eyes, knowing well that when someone like him looked that way, hesitation was not part of the equation. "What exactly are you worried about?" Coleson asked quietly as he prepared to leave.

Almost immediately after Coleson's departure, a familiar voice echoed in Nate's mind—Quinn Maxwell's telepathic tone, laden with both curiosity and concern. "I sense that you're excited by the prospect of a handsome reward, but what's causing your hesitation?" Quinn's thoughts were clear and steady, a stark contrast to the swirling uncertainty that gripped Nate's heart.

Nate looked up, his expression serious. "Of course I worry about you, Quinn," he admitted. "This world is dangerous and cruel. You might be used to a more forgiving environment, but here… here, the rules are brutal. I just asked a simple question—'Can you kill people?'—and I realize that things are far more complicated than they appear." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he recalled painful memories from his past training. "When I was a kid, my father taught me to fight and run if I couldn't win. But here, even someone like Tony Stark has killed with his own hands. Sure, he might label those people as murderers or terrorists, but to me, it's just another battle. In this world, if you have to win, you must be prepared to do whatever it takes."

At that moment, Nate reached down and gently patted the head of Violet—the young servant he had summoned—ensuring she was still resting comfortably despite the turbulent events. "Among all my charges," he continued softly, "I worry the least about Violet. But you, Quinn… unfortunately, you're the one I depend on the most right now. You are my shield in this chaotic battlefield."

These ten days of living on the edge—this "salted fish" existence—had transformed Nate from a mere office worker into a master who wielded power in a world gone mad. Yet, despite his newfound strength and authority, Quinn Maxwell was still haunted by a disquieting realization. "If you kill someone…" Quinn finally said, his voice trembling slightly as he admitted, "I just can't do it."

Nate looked at Quinn, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "When you're so accustomed to wiping out your enemies with a mere flick of your fingers, the act of killing becomes… almost trivial. But that's what makes it so terrifying. It strips away your humanity. That's why I need you to stay in a defensive position as much as possible, Quinn. I depend on you more than you know."

Quinn's silence was heavy with emotion. In his own world, he had been invincible—untouchable. But now, facing the raw brutality of this new reality, even someone like him felt the weight of every life taken. "Master," he finally whispered, his tone subdued and reluctant.

Nate chuckled warmly, the sound tinged with both relief and genuine affection. "Thank you, Quinn. It means more to me than you know that you won't abandon me." He realized in that moment that his followers were not mere fantasy constructs or NPCs executing orders. They were living beings with their own wills and emotions—a truth that filled him with gratitude and responsibility.

And so, after much contemplation, Nate finally decided to accept the S.H.I.E.L.D. Bureau's employment offer. In order to survive and thrive in this dangerous, ever-changing world, he knew he needed to grow up quickly, to adapt and respond to the expectations of those who depended on him.

Elsewhere, Tony Stark was enjoying a rare moment of pride as he had finally solved the near-fatal issue of palladium poisoning. His experiments on upgrading his own armor—thanks to insights gleaned from studying Nate's Mirage mecha—had borne fruit. With his birthday approaching, Tony felt as though every good thing in his life was aligning. "I'm celebrating my rebirth as Tony Stark!" he announced in a flamboyant tone, a burger and a glass of wine in hand, as he strode confidently toward Nate's room.

Tony's voice carried the assurance of a man who knew his place in the world. "I especially invite you, Nate, as an important guest at my birthday party!" he declared with a broad grin. "Since you're here, it seems that Lady Luck has taken a shine to me. And I've made some upgrades to your mecha, so we can even have a friendly duel in front of the beauties. Of course, you'll never beat me—just admit it."

Nate raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing with a hint of challenge. "A duel, huh? How about we take off our armor and have a barehanded fight instead?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Tony laughed, a deep, hearty sound that filled the room. "Reckless, my friend. That wouldn't reflect my wisdom—and you know I've got a reputation to maintain." Tony recalled the last time he had seen Nate testing his physical strength; the numbers on the fitness monitor were almost seven or eight times that of a typical brawler. "Your birthday is in five days," Nate eventually said with a shrug. "I've got some commitments that night. Don't worry—I'll be back soon enough."

Tony's smirk faded into a more contemplative expression. "You're always so mysterious, Nate. But remember, beautiful people are the ones I value most." He picked up his wine glass and clinked it lightly against Nate's. "To the rebirth of Tony Stark—cheers!"

"Cheers," Nate replied, though his mind wandered elsewhere. He couldn't shake the feeling that Tony's birthday coincided with the mission date agreed upon with S.H.I.E.L.D. But there was little time for musings—after all, their work was far from over.

In the following days, Nate continued using his copy system to teach Violet how to speak and even how to make simple snacks. Most of his time was spent in the villa's medical room, tending carefully to the two rare ritual followers. Despite the medical standards here being far superior to those in his own world, it was evident that Violet might remain in her current state for a long time—or perhaps even for life. Tony had spared no expense and had the best nurses in the world assigned to her care.

Meanwhile, Nate also took Violet with him on dungeon runs, using the rewards (the "dog food" he'd amassed) to feed and strengthen her. It seemed that her latent combat talent was even more terrifying than the scenes depicted in the original animation—a ruthless, precise, and mechanized style of slaughter that made even human foes quiver in fear.

Nate believed that, no matter what form the enemy took, whether it was a monstrous creature or a living, breathing human, the result would be the same. The battle would be ruthless, and the price of failure would be measured in blood. And so, as the chaos of the battlefield loomed ever larger, Nate steeled himself for the inevitable trials ahead.

In a hushed moment during a late-night briefing, Nate confided to Quinn, "I've been offered a task by S.H.I.E.L.D. They want me to infiltrate a facility, check for arms, and destroy them if possible. I'm hesitant—this world is dangerous and unforgiving. Sometimes, I wonder, 'Can you kill people?'" His voice trailed off, laden with both sorrow and resolve.

Quinn's response was quiet and sincere. "Master, I understand your hesitation. In our world, killing sometimes becomes as easy as snapping your fingers. But it's that ease, that ease which makes it so terrifying. The very act of taking a life, even if deemed necessary, can strip a person of their humanity. That's why I beg you to keep me in a defensive role as much as possible. I'm not sure I could bear the weight of having to kill indiscriminately."

Nate's face softened as he patted Quinn on the shoulder. "I'm grateful, truly, that you haven't abandoned me. Your support means more than you know," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. In that moment, Nate realized that his followers were not mere puppets—each was a person with flesh and blood, with emotions and memories of their own. And that responsibility was something he took to heart.

After hours of thoughtful discussion and careful planning, Nate finally decided to agree to the S.H.I.E.L.D. Bureau's employment offer. He understood that to survive in this perilous world, he needed to mature quickly—to be able to respond to the expectations of his followers and to the demands of a chaotic reality. The promise of significant remuneration from S.H.I.E.L.D., combined with the chance to build a stable base of operations, was too good to pass up.

As the meeting wound down and Tony Stark reentered the room with a renewed sense of purpose, he clinked his wine glass in a toast. "To our new future," Tony declared, his voice booming with confidence. "To the rebirth of Stark Industries, and to our unyielding resolve in this chaotic world."

Nate sipped his drink quietly, his mind teeming with plans for the future. He knew that the path ahead was fraught with danger and moral ambiguity. The question of whether one could kill, or whether one must refrain from such acts at all costs, haunted him. But for now, he resolved that every life under his care—every summoned follower, every asset he managed—would be treated with the utmost respect. In his world, strength and compassion had to go hand in hand.

Later that night, as the villa fell into a gentle quiet and the soft hum of surveillance systems filled the corridors, Nate sat alone in his study. He stared out at the darkened city, contemplating the weight of his decisions. The battlefield of life was messy and brutal, and the question "Can you kill people?" was not one that could be answered easily. It was a question that carried with it the price of every choice, every life taken, and every future rewritten.

In that reflective silence, Nate realized that his journey was not just about wielding power—it was about finding the courage to protect, nurture, and transform lives, even if that meant walking the fine line between necessity and morality. As dawn crept slowly over the horizon, Nate vowed to honor that responsibility. He would lead his followers with wisdom and empathy, ensuring that the chaos of the world would never reduce them to mere weapons in a bloody game.

And so, as the first light of day illuminated the villa, Nate Locke prepared himself for the battles ahead—both on the physical front and in the hearts of those he cared for. With Quinn Maxwell by his side and a steadfast resolve in his soul, he would face every challenge head-on, never forgetting that even in a world where the question "Can you kill people?" loomed ominously, true strength was measured not by the number of lives taken, but by the lives protected and transformed.