{Chapter 218 - Lorelei's Charm}
"I—I can help too," Jemma said quickly, stepping forward with her hand raised, voice trembling with both courage and hesitation.
She wasn't exactly combat-trained like May, nor a super-soldier, but she wasn't useless either. Her telekinetic ability—though not polished—was still a weapon. A tool. And she wanted to prove herself. Maybe even impress him.
After all, this Lorelei wasn't just some HYDRA footsoldier. She was Asgardian. Nearly divine in physical ability, and worse—she could bend men's minds with a whisper. That wasn't just dangerous. That was apocalyptic if left unchecked.
Phil Coulson glanced at her, lips tugging into a frown. "Jemma… I appreciate the offer. I really do. But your powers aren't developed enough for this kind of encounter. If she gets close to you, it might already be too late."
Jemma's lips trembled as her enthusiasm flickered. "I just… I want to help. I don't want to sit back again."
Before the silence stretched too far, Aiden stepped in, his voice soft but sure, with that same teasing curl at the edge of his smile. "Don't worry, Jemma. If it comes to that, I've got backup. People like me."
She blinked at him, cheeks warming a little. That easy confidence of his—it was intoxicating.
"Well… if you're involved…" she murmured, a little too quietly.
Aiden shot her a look that made her heart skip. "Oh, I'm always involved, Jemma. Especially when you ask so nicely."
Flustered, she turned away and nodded.
May, as ever, spared them both a glance—deadpan as usual—and strode to the pilot's seat. "We're going to Death Valley," she announced.
---
Death Valley.
The name alone conjured heat, isolation, and harsh survival. Bone-dry winds brushed across jagged rocks and cracked roads, where nothing lived unless it was tough enough to endure.
It was there, tucked beside a lonely stretch of highway, that an old biker bar had become Lorelei's makeshift throne.
Dozens of motorcycles lined the parking lot. The raucous sound of clinking bottles and coarse laughter echoed from inside. A haze of smoke and oil hung in the air—until everything seemed to pause as a sleek roadster slid to a halt near the front steps.
From the car emerged a woman so striking, so absurdly perfect, that silence fell like thunder. Men craned their necks. Conversations died mid-sentence. Some gawked. Others whistled.
Tall and poised, her green dress hugged her body like it had been sewn with magic. Her golden-blonde hair cascaded in perfect waves. Her face—angelic and cold—held the power to make gods kneel. Her lips curled just slightly, like she already knew what would happen next.
One of the biker gang's rougher-looking men swaggered forward. He was heavily tattooed, wearing a leather vest with a red rooster emblazoned across the back.
"Well now," he said, eyeing her with a smirk. "Who the hell let a goddess like you wander around alone?"
Lorelei tilted her head and gave a smile so radiant, so dangerous, it could have stopped time.
"I may have… stolen him from his bride," she said softly. "But I didn't enjoy him. So I had to drive all the way here, alone."
The man's eyes widened. "Trouble, huh? Well, I'm your solution, sweetheart. Name's Rooster. My guys and I, we'll take care of you."
"Oh? That sounds perfect." Lorelei stepped closer, glancing past him toward the rest of the gang. "Are you… their leader?"
"Damn right I am," he said proudly.
Lorelei laughed lightly, then leaned in, her fingers delicately curling around his neck. She looked into his eyes, deep and slow.
"Then from this moment on… you and your men are my dogs now."
Her voice flowed like honey and poison, each syllable wrapping around Rooster's mind like velvet chains.
A man by the car snapped out of his trance and rushed forward, alarmed. "Hey! Are you okay?!"
Rooster blinked at him slowly, dazed. "She's my queen."
"What!?" the man gasped. "No— I'm the one she said could follow her!"
Lorelei turned her gaze to the objecting man and smiled, not kindly. "Yes… I said you could follow. And this will be your last step."
Without warning, she moved. Her punch cracked like thunder, launching the man across the lot. His body slammed against the side of the car, denting it, before sliding limp to the dirt.
The bikers all stood frozen in shock.
Lorelei brushed back a strand of hair and smiled again, her voice soft and commanding.
"Kneel."
One by one, they did. Rooster first. Then the others. A gang of rough men—tough, brutal, and free—reduced to whimpering servants by a single look and a whisper.
She stepped forward, slowly, savoring the feel of power at her fingertips.
This wasn't conquest.
This was worship.
---
"Just stop here, I'll bring May with me," Aiden said calmly, his eyes narrowing as the desert winds began to sweep across the barren horizon of Death Valley.
The SHIELD plane—also known as the Bus—banked in low over the rugged terrain and gently touched down on a clear patch of sand and cracked stone. The ramp hissed open with hydraulic precision, letting in a gust of hot, dry wind.
May stepped out of the cabin without a word, her face blank and unreadable as always. She was already suited up—tight tactical gear, pistol holstered, knife strapped to her thigh, and the cold, calculating readiness of someone who had spent decades walking into dangerous situations with unwavering resolve.
"This is quite far from the target's last known location," May said, scanning the desolate environment. "Are we going to drive the rest of the way or are you planning something... flashier?"
Aiden grinned and gave her a look full of mischief. "No need for wheels. We're taking a shortcut."
Without another word, he reached out and touched her shoulder. She raised an eyebrow slightly—just enough to show she wasn't entirely comfortable with not being in control of the method of transport—but she didn't resist.
Aiden turned his head back toward the others who had gathered near the ramp, watching curiously.
"Back soon," he said with a wink.
And in the blink of an eye—they vanished.
"Woah!!" Fitz nearly dropped his tablet, stumbling backward. "What the bloody hell was that?!"
Phil Coulson blinked a few times, then turned to Daisy, arms crossed in a mixture of surprise and barely concealed curiosity.
Daisy gave a sheepish shrug. "Don't look at me. I just found out, like, last night. Still wrapping my head around it. It's insane, right?"
"A bit of a heads-up would've been nice…" Jemma muttered as she steadied herself against the wall, clearly shaken by the sudden spatial displacement. "One second they were here—and now…"
"…they're not," Fitz finished for her, still wide-eyed.
---
Meanwhile, far from the landed Bus, the world shimmered and stabilized around Aiden and May as they reappeared near an old, beat-up bar nestled in a stretch of sand-blasted wasteland.
"Next time, maybe let me brace myself before you do that," May said sharply, though her voice was more dry than irritated. She smoothed a strand of hair back into place, her stance already adjusted and ready.
Aiden laughed softly, his voice teasing. "But where's the fun in that?"
May rolled her eyes—if only slightly—but didn't reply. That was her way.
A few dozen yards away stood the pub—weathered wood siding, dusty windows, and a row of motorcycles parked haphazardly out front. But what caught Aiden's attention wasn't the scenery—it was the energy radiating from within. He could feel it.
Aiden narrowed as the imagery volume dial in his head turned up. Every vibration, every whisper of sound inside reached his ears with crystal clarity. He closed his eyes for a second, listening carefully. Laughter, boots stomping on wooden floors, glasses clinking... and above all, a soft, seductive voice threading through the air like silk.
"There are twenty... no, twenty-two people inside. And one voice that doesn't belong here." He turned to May. "She's in there. Lorelei."
May nodded once, expression hard as steel. "I'll go in. Handle it clean."
She stepped forward, drawing her pistol and checking the mag with the efficiency of someone who had done this thousands of times.
But Aiden held out a hand, stopping her. "Wait."
May paused, her eyes narrowing.
"I'm not sure how effective her influence will be on me," Aiden admitted, eyes scanning the building again. "And I know you're trained. You're disciplined. But Lorelei doesn't fight fair. And if her power takes hold, you won't kill the ones under her control—but they will try to kill you."
May's expression darkened. "I can handle it."
"I know," Aiden said, smiling gently. "But you don't have to. Not this time."
With a sudden gust of energy, he raised his arms and swirled his hands outward. The air bent around them, sand kicking up in a spiraling vortex as May instinctively stepped back behind him.
The wind intensified, screaming across the parking lot like a tornado had been summoned from nothing. Motorcycles were flung into the air like toys, crashing into one another and exploding in bursts of flame and fuel.
Inside the bar, the impact was immediate. The foundation rumbled, wooden beams groaned and split, and the roof cracked open like an eggshell. The walls bent inward from the pressure, and with one final pulse of force—BOOM—the entire pub lifted off the ground, tearing itself free from its foundation.
Debris scattered. Screams echoed from within. It was chaos.
May stared at the spectacle, blinking slowly.
"Well," she said, "that's one way to make an entrance."
Aiden grinned. "Figured we should say hello properly."