Marvelous Mutations

At that moment, a strange tension filled the air inside the grocery store.

Nick Fury sat stiffly, his expression twitching as he glanced at Luke and Sharon, both disturbingly calm despite what was coming. His eye twitched. "That's a missile," he muttered, half to himself. "A real missile. Heading straight for us. Not a prank, this is not a motherfucking drill…"

His voice faltered when he saw Sharon lazily scrolling through her phone, then pulling up the camera app to snap another photo of him to send to Hill.

"You... shouldn't you be paying attention to the missile that is about to fall on us?" Fury finally asked, his voice uncertain.

Luke, leaning back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, raised an eyebrow and nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. I suppose I should figure out what to do with it."

Fury blinked. "You suppose?"

Luke ignored the question. His mind worked through possible responses.

Sharon could fly now, thanks to her newfound Thor-like abilities, and intercept the missile with Mjölnir. But Luke wasn't sure if her flight speed was fast enough for something incoming at that velocity. It was probably a bit too risky letting her try.

Wanda? Her powers were strong, yes, but her fine control wasn't quite there yet. One misstep and she might accidentally vaporize a city block... or herself.

Then there was Doggo, but the pup had already put in overtime tonight, and Luke didn't want to risk having him overdo it.

But ultimately, there was always the system. If the missile could hurt him, it would probably be affected by some bizarre negative mutation that neutralized the danger. Still... no control over that. And random mutations could have catastrophic results for innocent bystanders.

Which left the most efficient and oddly eager choice.

Bumblebee.

Under Fury's incredulous gaze, Luke finally stood from his chair, stretched casually, and walked over to the garage door. He knocked twice on the sleek yellow hood of the parked Camaro.

"Bumblebee," he said coolly, "go handle that missile."

Then, as if he'd just ordered takeout, Luke turned and walked right back to his chair, reclining again with a sigh of comfort.

Fury stared. "That's it? That's your whole plan?!"

But Luke didn't respond. He simply waved a hand dismissively.

Fury clenched his jaw, then slowly sat down opposite Luke, holstering his pistol. "You know what? Fine. Sure. Why not let a car handle it," he muttered bitterly. "Let's hope the car is more qualified than most S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, or should I say Hydra now?..."

Yet, in truth, part of him understood. Luke had an unnerving way of making even the absurd feel grounded. Fury had seen Doggo chew through soldiers like cookies. Maybe the car could really do it.

The grocery store fell silent.

Outside, the screams had faded. The street was eerily still again, like nothing had happened at all.

Luke finally broke the silence. "Sharon, open the door."

"Mm," Sharon replied, and walked to the front. With a click and a clank, the reinforced Vibranium roller shutter began to lift. Bright city lights spilled in as the view of the street was revealed.

There was... nothing.

No bodies. No shoes. Not even a single scrap of clothing.

Just a scattering of weapons across the pavement; pistols, rifles, broken sniper scopes, even a few bazookas. The ground looked like it belonged to a shooter video game where you can pick weapons anywhere.

It's just that these were all warped or melted from Doggo's earlier heatwave.

Then, a familiar blur slipped through the open door.

Doggo.

He returned to his original fluffy husky form, fur gleaming as if he'd just left a grooming salon. His injuries, which once looked serious because of his acting, had completely vanished. No blood, no scarring, no sign of violence.

Fury instinctively tensed as Doggo strolled in, tail swaying. He tried not to show it, but Luke noticed the tiny flinch.

Doggo padded over, ignored the onlookers, and slumped beside Luke's chair with a satisfied grunt. In seconds, he was snoring softly, already asleep.

Fury swallowed hard. He had seen Doggo rampaging in videos, but nothing prepared him for the reality.

He still couldn't believe the creature had swallowed a missile earlier.

Suddenly, from the garage, the engine of the yellow Camaro roared to life.

Bumblebee.

His headlights flashed as he rolled forward, golden metal gleaming under the store's lights.

Tonight… it was finally his moment.

He had watched Doggo's performance from the security cameras, seething with envy. But now it was his turn to shine. Luke had given him only one instruction: "Handle it", which meant Bumblebee had full creative freedom to do it his way.

And he intended to put on a show.

Sure, he could've hacked into the jet before it even had a chance to shoot, or rerouted its targeting systems, or even disabled the missile in-flight by hacking a nearby military base's defence systems. All neat, all effective.

But that would be too easy. And too boring.

He wanted style.

In front of everyone, Bumblebee began transforming, not into his usual Autobot form, but into something entirely different.

Gears turned, metal plates shifted, and his yellow body morphed into a hulking turret, the front reconfiguring into a massive four-meter-long cannon barrel aimed at the sky.

Fury's jaw dropped.

A freaking turret?

"What the hell..." he whispered.

Then, his gaze followed the cannon's trajectory upward.

In the distance, above the dark city skyline, a glowing speck appeared, moving fast. A trail of flame streamed behind it, illuminating the night sky.

The missile was almost here.

…

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