Tony Stark’s ultra-modern living room sat perched atop the cliffs of the Malibu coast.
The temperature within that sleek, polished space began to rise sharply.
The cause was singular: Níðhöggr, leaning back against the sofa while exuding a decadent, suffocating aura.
Níðhöggr stared intently at Pepper Potts through his disheveled black hair.
His crimson eyes were no mere organs of sight. They were a fountain of magical power, dragging the most latent, primal instincts of his target to the surface.
Rationally, Pepper knew she should report this intruder and activate the security system, but her body refused to move.
No, she simply didn't want to.
"Now, sweetheart. I’ll ask again. Where did your master disappear to?"
Níðhöggr's voice tickled Pepper’s ear. It was as if his words were coated in a sweet, intoxicating poison.
Pepper’s breathing grew labored. Goosebumps prickled across her pale neck, and her cheeks flushed as red as a ripe apple.
Struck directly by Níðhöggr’s 'Charm,' only one thought remained in her brain: She wanted to please this man. She wanted to give him whatever he desired.
"Tony... in Afghanistan... we lost contact..."
Pepper’s voice trembled, hazy and distant. Her hands shook as they reached for the collar of her shirt.
Níðhöggr watched the scene, a crooked smirk playing on his lips. To him, a self-proclaimed 'villain,' this situation was nothing short of a reward.
Pepper’s slender fingers popped the top button of her shirt. Then the second, and the third, undoing them without resistance.
Between the fabric of the pulled-tight shirt, her snow-white skin and a lace-trimmed bra slowly began to reveal themselves.
A strange tension and an erotic fragrance hung heavy in the air. Níðhöggr’s gaze lingered on her deepening cleavage.
"Oho, bolder than I thought. Are Midgard’s maidens all this fire-blooded?"
Just as Níðhöggr reached out to stroke her cheek—
"HEY!!! You horny lizard bastard! Give it a rest, seriously!"
CRASH! The roar of metal bending echoed from the kitchen. Ratatoskr strode into the living room, crushing a beer can in his hand.
The pink illusion surrounding Pepper shattered instantly, as if doused in freezing water by his savage aura and shouting.
"Ah... Aaah?!"
Snapping back to her senses, Pepper let out a scream and clutched her open shirt shut. Her face was now burning with explosive shame and bewilderment. She scrambled backward, hiding behind the sofa.
"Ah... what a waste. We were almost there."
Níðhöggr clicked his tongue in genuine disappointment. He glared at Ratatoskr and grumbled, "Hey, rat. Do you not understand the concept of timing? Interrupting a villain’s romance is a sin."
"Romance my ass! Your face didn't look like romance; it looked like a crime scene, you perverted reptile! And why is this damn house so noisy? Some machine bastard has been picking a fight with me for a while now!"
Ratatoskr pointed toward the ceiling speakers and glowing holographic panels. It was JARVIS, the Stark mansion's AI.
[Notice to intruders. Your bio-energy levels exceed the normal human range by 6,500%. Drop your weapons and surrender immediately, or I will activate the armed defense syst—]
"Hey, you hunk of scrap! What’d you just say? Drop my weapons? My body is the weapon, you tin can prick! You keep talking back and I’ll find that server room in the corner and piss all over your motherboard!"
JARVIS seemed to suffer a calculation error from Ratatoskr’s creative profanity, falling silent for a moment.
[...An unhygienic and illogical threat. Your linguistic proficiency is at gutter level. If Sir were here, he would have deposited you into the recycling bin immediately.]
"What? Recycling? Why you little... Come here! Come out! Don't hide behind the holograms, let's go! I'm gonna turn your CPU into mush today!"
As Ratatoskr began shadow-boxing the air and screaming, the living room descended into the chaos of a wet market. Níðhöggr picked at his ear and approached Pepper.
Pepper was still wary, but whether due to Níðhöggr’s overwhelming beauty or some primal attraction, she didn't even think to call the police.
"Sorry, my friend is... uneducated. So, let’s continue. Do you have a photo of this Tony Stark guy?"
With trembling hands, Pepper operated a tablet on the table to pull up a photo of Tony. It showed Tony Stark smiling confidently behind sunglasses.
Níðhöggr stared at the image. His pupils flickered with a gold light as he scoured the dimensions. A dragon’s senses were specialized in pinpointing a target’s location through the lines of causality.
"Found him. He’s shoved in some corner full of sand and dust. I smell iron and blood mixed together. He doesn't look like he’s in great shape."
Níðhöggr stood up. He adjusted his leather jacket and called out to Ratatoskr.
"Hey, rat! Stop fighting."
"It's not over! This machine just said my IQ was that of a squirrel—"
"Rata, you stay here and guard this lady. I noticed some guys in black suits loitering around the house earlier. They didn't smell like Skrulls, but the stench was foul regardless."
Ratatoskr stopped bickering with JARVIS and turned to Níðhöggr. "What? Why do I have to guard a human female? Am I a bodyguard now?"
"It's because you fighting the house system is more of a nuisance. And if anyone so much as lays a finger on her... you know what to do, right?"
"Hmph, I'll disassemble their joints and use them as fertilizer for Yggdrasil's roots."
Ratatoskr grumbled as he flopped onto the sofa. As Níðhöggr prepared to open a portal, Ratatoskr indifferently raised his middle finger.
"Go dig up that money source already, you sucker lizard. If you're late, I'm raiding every fridge in this house."
'That ill-tempered chipmunk... one of these days I'm going to snip his tail off.'
Dismissing him internally, Níðhöggr generated a portal. Crimson mana swirled, tearing open a dimensional gate. From the other side, the scent of gunpowder and swelering heat rushed in.
"Sweetheart, wait for me with your buttons undone next time."
Níðhöggr gave Pepper a wink before throwing himself into the portal.
Outside a cave near Gulmira, Afghanistan.
In the middle of a desert baking under the hot sun, the air rippled as a handsome, black-haired man descended. Níðhöggr squinted, surveying his surroundings.
He saw crude tents and men armed with rifles.
"For villains, they have terrible taste. Locking him up in a dreary place like this."
He began walking slowly toward the cave entrance. Behind him, the shadow of a massive dragon shimmered like a heat haze.
His first 'villain play' on Earth... no, 'Operation: Rescue the Wallet' was about to begin.
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