CHAPTER 2: THE PRICE OF A SOUL
The silent, impossible defense of the House continued as the auction proceeded, the muffled chaos of the Chitauri invasion a distant, irrelevant hum beyond the impenetrable walls. Inside, the air remained still, perfectly temperate, and utterly devoid of the dust and screams that were undoubtedly tearing Manhattan apart. Adam, still maintaining his stoic facade, felt a bizarre blend of relief and deep, existential dread. Relief, because, you know, not being incinerated by a space whale is always a plus. Dread, because this whole 'Auction Master' gig felt less like a job and more like a cosmic social experiment where I'm the unwilling lab rat. And seriously, no one gave me a safety manual. Is there a break room? Do I get dental?
The final items moved with a surprising swiftness, the invisible bidding wars playing out on the Oculus display. The Hana Hana no Mi, with its uncanny ability to sprout limbs from anywhere, eventually went to a rather unassuming, perpetually nervous-looking scientist. He looked utterly bewildered when the fruit materialized, cradling it like a fragile, priceless artifact. Tony, despite his initial scoff, seemed genuinely miffed he didn't get it. "A fruit that grows hands? Imagine the multitasking! I could debug my code, assemble a new Arc Reactor, and make a sandwich all at once!" he grumbled under his breath, though the House's aura seemed to subtly dampen the volume of his complaints.
The Miniaturized Energy Shield, as predicted, found its way into Tony Stark's possession. He practically vibrated with excitement, even under the solemn gaze of the Auction Master. He spent the remainder of the auction, even as the House quivered with suppressed alien impacts, turning the small device over in his hands, his mind visibly whirring with reverse-engineering schematics. Steve Rogers watched him with a mixture of exasperation and grudging admiration. "He'll probably try to make a whole suit out of that thing," the Captain muttered, shaking his head.
Bruce Banner, clutching his newly acquired Senzu Bean, looked less like a world-renowned scientist and more like a kid who'd just been given the last piece of candy. His relief was palpable, a tiny flicker of hope in his usually tormented eyes. Good. Maybe he won't Hulka-smash my fancy new living room. One less problem for Stiles.
As the last item was claimed, the Oculus Display shimmered, then dissolved into golden motes of light. The profound silence of the hall deepened, if that were even possible.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: FIRST AUCTION COMPLETED. MILESTONE REWARD GRANTED: ONE BONUS RANDOM ITEM.]
Adam felt a subtle surge of energy, a warm hum that settled deep within his core. A bonus random item? Is it like a cosmic gumball machine? Please, let it not be a cursed teacup or a pair of self-tying shoelaces. Though, self-tying shoelaces would be pretty neat, honestly. Saves time.
He kept his external expression neutral, his posture impeccable. The Avengers, still seated, were a collective picture of guarded curiosity. They looked at each other, then at him, the silent, imposing figure on the dais. They were clearly formulating a million questions, but the sheer, overwhelming presence of the House, combined with Adam's unreadable demeanor, kept them from bursting out with "Who are you?! What is this place?! And can I get a receipt for my magic fruit?!"
Okay, act cool. The 'Host's Choice' thing earlier was a power move, right? So let's lean into that. Project 'ancient, all-knowing being who just picked up a random cosmic skill because Tuesday.'
He lowered his hand, the subtle gesture, interpreted as immense significance by the System's presence aura, causing a collective ripple of anticipation. He allowed his gaze to drift across the faces of the Earth's mightiest heroes, finally settling on the shrouded figures of Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. They were still huddled together, small and vulnerable, but their eyes, peeking out from beneath their hoods, held a new glint – less raw fear, more a dawning, incredulous awe. They had witnessed the invincibility of the House, the incredible power of the items, and the unshakeable calm of its Master. For two desperately hungry, terrified orphans, this place must have seemed like a mirage.
Here goes nothing. Or, here goes everything, depending on how this goes. This is their turning point. Their 'Adam-saves-them-from-Hydra-and-death' arc, but way earlier and way less explosive. Hopefully.
Adam took a slow, deliberate step down from the dais, his movements smooth and flowing, utterly unlike his former clumsy self. He walked towards the segregated section where the Maximoffs sat, his every step echoing softly in the cavernous hall, drawing every single eye. The Avengers watched, their tension palpable. What was the Master doing? Was he going to make an example of someone?
Wanda and Pietro flinched as he approached, their bodies tensing, ready to flee, even though logic told them escape was impossible here. Wanda's eyes, a deep, frightened hazel, met his for a fleeting moment before dropping. Pietro, ever the defiant one, glared, though there was a tremor in his hand.
Adam stopped before them, his tall, imposing form casting a shadow over their hunched figures. He knelt, slowly, regally, until he was at eye level with them. The gesture was utterly unexpected, disarming in its unexpected humility.
"You are… hungry," Adam's voice was a low, gentle rumble, a stark contrast to the booming pronouncements of the auction. He could feel the System subtly softening his tone, adding a layer of paternal concern that he, internally, was absolutely not feeling. Seriously, System, I'm trying to be mysterious, not a cosmic guidance counselor. Though, if I'm adopting them, I guess that makes me a cosmic guidance counselor who also hosts auctions.
He extended a gloved hand, not to touch, but simply to offer. In his palm, two small, steaming pastries, freshly baked and impossibly fragrant, appeared. They smelled like cinnamon and comfort.
Pietro recoiled, a gasp escaping him. "What… what is this trick?" he stammered, his eyes wide with suspicion, but also, unmistakably, hunger.
Wanda, however, slowly looked up, her gaze fixed on the pastries, then on Adam's face. She saw not malice, but… something unreadable, yet undeniably gentle in his perfectly still features. The sheer unexpectedness of the kindness, after so much fear and desperation, broke through her defenses.
"These are for you," Adam continued, his voice a quiet murmur. "The House provides. A sanctuary, if you will, from the storm outside. From the hunger. From the fear." He paused, allowing his eyes to connect with Wanda's again. "This world… it is a difficult one. But the House can offer you a place. A purpose. A haven."
Come on, Wanda. Take the pastries. Take the deal. I'm literally offering you a warm bed and not being targeted by alien invaders. It's a sweet deal, trust me. I just need you guys for… well, for not being lonely, mostly. And saving the universe. Small details.
Wanda's hand trembled, reaching out slowly, almost fearfully, to take one of the pastries. Her fingers brushed his glove, and a faint, almost imperceptible surge of something—magic? fear? gratitude?—flowered within her, rippling out. She quickly withdrew her hand, clutching the pastry. Pietro, seeing her take one, snatched the other, tearing into it with ravenous hunger.
"The Auction House requires staff," Adam stated, his voice shifting back to a more formal tone, though still soft. "A Head of Artifact Care. And a Head of Security. Positions that require diligence, loyalty, and unique aptitudes. Should you accept, the House will provide for all your needs. Training. Protection. A home."
He rose slowly, his posture once again regal. "Think on this. The chaos outside will eventually pass. But the chaos within this world… it remains. The House offers stability. Choose wisely."
He turned, walking back towards the dais, leaving the two hungry, bewildered twins clutching their miraculous pastries. He could feel their eyes on him, a mixture of profound suspicion and nascent hope.
Tony Stark, meanwhile, couldn't hold back. "So, you're just… offering them jobs? After a cosmic auction? Are you running an interdimensional temp agency now?"
Adam didn't respond directly, merely settled back into his position on the dais, his silent gaze sweeping over the assembled heroes. "The auction is concluded. The House will open its gates in one hour. Until then, you are welcome to… reflect."
Reflect on how confused you are, how powerful I seem, and how utterly outmatched you are against a guy who can conjure pastries and vaporize space invaders without blinking. Yeah, reflect on that.
The Avengers began to stir, whispering amongst themselves. Tony was already pulling out a tablet, which had inexplicably reappeared, frantically typing, probably trying to cross-reference "Hana Hana no Mi" with every known myth and legend. Bruce was staring at his Senzu Bean, a furrow in his brow. Steve was watching the Maximoffs, a thoughtful, empathetic expression on his face.
Wanda, after devouring her pastry, looked up. Her eyes met Adam's across the vast hall. A flicker of something, a nascent understanding, passed between them. She saw not just the powerful Master, but perhaps, a hint of something else. Something lonely. Something… human. She nudged Pietro, who was still chewing, then slowly, almost imperceptibly, nodded her head towards Adam.
She nodded! Yes! Operation: Acquire Emotional Support Staff is a go! Now, to figure out how to explain employee benefits in a cosmic auction house without sounding like a complete buffoon.
Adam felt a ridiculous surge of relief. These two, so crucial to the future, were now under his wing. It was a terrifying responsibility, but also, a strange, unexpected comfort. He was no longer utterly alone in this impossible, alien reality. The price of a soul, he mused, was sometimes just a warm pastry and the promise of safety. And for the Maximoffs, it was a bargain.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: AUCTION HOUSE EXIT PROTOCOL INITIATED. COMMENCE DISPERSAL IN 30 MINUTES.]
Adam stood, perfectly still, as the System's message pulsed through his mind. He was surviving. He was even, dare he say it, managing. The chaos outside was winding down. The real challenge, he knew, was just beginning. The long game. The manipulation. The subtle nudges that would steer this world away from its most painful fates. And for that, he needed more than just incredible items; he needed people. Loyal, powerful, complicated people. And he had just taken the first, terrifying step in acquiring them.