Honestly, under JARVIS—oh, wait, no, it's FRIDAY now—under FRIDAY's surveillance, Kaecilius had nowhere to hide.
Whether Kaecilius popped up on American streets or hopped a plane abroad, FRIDAY could track it all.
After all, no matter how you disguise yourself, that face isn't changing.
Even with a bunch of tricks, against an AI like FRIDAY's analysis, he'd be spotted fast.
Sure enough, in just the time it took to eat a meal, FRIDAY had pinned down Kaecilius's trail.
Kaecilius had bought a ticket to some small Eastern European country, set to take off around 3:40 PM.
Twenty minutes from now.
But Ronan wasn't fazed at all—still digging into his lunch.
After all, Tony Stark was footing the bill—top-shelf stuff—and Ronan wasn't about to let it go to waste.
"You don't seem worried at all."
"Aren't you afraid he'll slip out of the U.S. and be harder to track?"
Tony Stark asked, curious.
"Nah, I think he's still somewhere in the States."
"Because if he wanted to hit Eastern Europe, he wouldn't need a plane ticket—just draw a circle and go."
"Buying a ticket's just to grab attention."
Ronan shook his head—this little ruse, honestly, was kinda insulting to his intelligence.
Tony raised an eyebrow.
"What if he knows you'd think that, so he goes there on purpose?"
"Catches you off guard?"
Tony wasn't just playing devil's advocate—lots of folks love these mind games.
You think I won't go, so I definitely will.
"No biggie—our 'claws' stretch across the whole planet."
With that, Ronan shot Tony a look, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number.
The call went to the head of the London Sanctum.
"Buddy, send a few sorcerers to check out XX country—yep, that little nation."
"Word is, Kaecilius bought a ticket there."
"Yeah, don't fight him—just spot his trail and report back ASAP."
With that, Ronan hung up, diving back into the steak worth thousands of bucks in front of him.
This was his third one.
Tony's mouth twitched—not because he cared about the steak.
It's just that Ronan sitting there was messing with his thinking.
Finishing the steak at a leisurely pace, Ronan tapped the bell beside him, and the waiter hustled over.
"Another one, please—and bring that lobster from earlier."
"Oh, and grab me a Pepsi."
Ronan said with a smile.
The waiter nodded hesitantly, sneaking a glance at Tony Stark.
His thought was simple.
Pepsi?
A high-end joint like this didn't carry that stuff.
But with the restaurant's boss sitting right across from Ronan and not saying a peep, the waiter wasn't about to either.
"You look all mopey—want me to toss out an idea?"
Ronan glanced at Tony's distracted vibe and offered.
Before, Ronan planned to keep mum on this stuff.
But now it was different.
You eat someone's food, you owe them a favor—especially with good grub like this, gotta flex the brain a bit, right?
Though, come to think of it, Tony inviting him here for a meal—could that be the angle?
"Huh? What'd you say?"
Tony looked lost.
Seeing him like that, Ronan raised an eyebrow, shelving that thought for now.
Tony in this state probably wasn't scheming that hard, right?
"About you and Steve."
"You don't have to tear each other apart—just need a middleman."
Ronan explained anyway.
"Lay out your idea."
Tony seemed intrigued.
"The Avengers—you're a team, but there's no one really holding everyone together."
"That's why even you guys feel the team's so loose."
"Steve's the nominal captain, but his ideas clash with a bunch of yours."
"Clashes are normal, though—what team doesn't have some?"
"So, right now, you need a middleman—a buffer between you and all those countries."
Ronan took the Pepsi from the waiter, casually wiping the guy's memory of what he'd heard.
This kind of talk was better kept under wraps.
Maybe the waiter catches it now, and half an hour later, the whole planet knows the Avengers are imploding.
"I've thought about that, sure—but no good candidates."
Tony shook his head—the idea was solid, but where's the person?
Ronan popped the Pepsi open slow, took a sip, and let out a satisfied burp.
"Fury."
"Isn't he one of the Avengers' founders?"
Ronan exhaled lightly—Pepsi hit the spot.
Way better than some multi-thousand-dollar wine—Ronan was all about this drink.
"Fury? You mean—"
"Oh, Nick Fury?"
Tony opened his mouth, about to list Fury's flaws, but after racking his brain, he didn't say a word.
Yeah, Nick Fury had a thousand, ten thousand flaws—some downright unbearable.
But when it came to dealing with governments, he outshone every Avenger.
At least from his old gig, the Big Five nations gave him some respect.
Even if he'd botched S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Wait—why does your idea feel so familiar?"
Tony seemed to catch something.
Ronan whistled, eyes drifting skyward.
"I got it!"
"Isn't this just a rehash of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s job was protecting Earth, and Nick Fury coordinated with the Big Five as director."
"Only now, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s the Avengers, and the Big Five are those hundred-plus countries."
Tony stared at Ronan, barely holding back a middle finger.
This wasn't some genius fix—it was just cloning S.H.I.E.L.D.!
"Doesn't matter if it's been done—it fits you."
"Sure, it's a hundred-plus countries signing on, but it's basically the Big Five anyway."
"Most small nations don't get a say in this stuff."
"So, Nick Fury's the best pick, right?"
Ronan shrugged—he'd been mulling this over.
Why couldn't these guys just grab a middleman, hash it out, and call it a day?
Just report in before missions—those nations controlling the Avengers? Fat chance.
These folks—who they were?
Push them too far, and they'd do anything.
"Didn't you have beef with Nick Fury?"
"Why'd you pitch him?"
Tony shifted, eyeing Ronan curiously.
In his memory, Ronan and Nick Fury weren't exactly tight.
No—they were on bad terms, more like.
"What's that got to do with me?"
"He snooped on my private stuff back then, so I clocked him."
"After that, he doesn't owe me, I don't owe him—pretty normal, right?"
"Besides, I'm brainstorming for you—take it or leave it, why ask me?"
Ronan pouted—he wasn't the one dealing with Fury.
Nick Fury was the type with too many ideas—wanting this, wanting that, only to get backstabbed.
Tsk, righteous backstab!
"Fine, forget I asked."
Tony leaned back in his chair, mulling over whether Ronan's suggestion held water.
Fury was alive, no doubt—but should he track him down? Could he?
Ding-a-ling-ling.
Right then, Ronan's phone rang.
He picked up, hummed and nodded a bit, then hung up.
"Nice—turns out that spot you mentioned was a decoy."
"Kaecilius didn't even board the plane."
Ronan smirked, hinting Tony wasn't too reliable.
"That quick?"
Tony was a little shocked.
"What's so surprising? Kamar-Taj has its tricks."
"How else do you think we've hung around while you lot grew?"
Ronan rolled his eyes.
Of course, his "tricks" were nothing fancy—just shares!
Put it this way—Kamar-Taj had stakes in pretty much every major airline globally.
Checking if someone boarded a flight? Too easy.
"Alright—FRIDAY just told me she spotted Kaecilius in New York."
"He's heading toward Baker Street… oh, your usual haunt."
Tony dropped the latest update.
Ronan's eyelid twitched, instantly recalling something.
"Gotta run—pack the food!"
With that, Ronan vanished on the spot.
Tony's mouth twitched, staring at the empty chair, then at the bewildered waiter beside him.
The guy was holding a steak, standing there all innocent.
He'd seen Ronan here just a second ago—how'd he vanish by the time he got over?
"Leave it here."
Tony pointed at the table.
Once the waiter left, Tony grabbed a knife and fork, stabbing into the steak hard.
Pack it? No way—he hadn't eaten yet!
New York streets.
Kaecilius strode fast down Baker Street, four followers trailing behind.
They'd all disguised themselves—unless you knew them well, you'd barely recognize them.
From the markings on his face, you could tell they'd linked up with Dormammu—every one of them.
Blow up one Sanctum, and Dormammu could hit Earth.
Then, Dormammu promised them not just eternal life but control of the planet!
According to Kaecilius's plan—to the others—he'd picked the Hong Kong Sanctum.
But in reality, that was just a smokescreen.
His real target was one place—the New York Sanctum!
The New York Sanctum was mid-rebuild, its defenses half-baked—prime time for a sneak attack.
As for the number of guardians, Kaecilius didn't care.
With Dormammu's power boosting him, he was stronger than anyone at Kamar-Taj.
Even the Ancient One—he was confident he could trade a few blows, and if it got dicey, he could still escape.
So, Kaecilius went straight for the closest one—the New York Sanctum.
Only, as he sped along, he suddenly stopped.
Because something felt off.
By his pace and the route, he should've hit the New York Sanctum's spot ages ago.
But where he was now? He hadn't passed it at all.
That made him halt.
"Yo, Kaecilius."
"Long time no see."
Right then, Kaecilius heard a way-too-familiar voice.
Ronan appeared not far ahead.
"It's you… Ronan!"
Seeing Ronan's smug-as-hell face, buried memories came roaring back, hammering Kaecilius.
Back then, he'd actually knelt to Ronan in front of everyone!
Worse, afterward, he realized in that moment, he'd been afraid of him!
It was pure humiliation!
"That's right—me."
"Seeing me one last time before you die—you touched, or what?"
Ronan grinned at Kaecilius, looking not the least bit mad.
But Kaecilius couldn't take it.
The more he saw Ronan's smile, the more it dragged up that day he'd knelt in public—total disgrace.
That was a shame he couldn't stomach!
"Hmph—why'd the Ancient One pick a loudmouth like you for Sorcerer Supreme?"
"Does she think a big mouth can stop Earth from getting invaded?"
Kaecilius fired back, not backing down.
Ronan just smirked, almost pulling a face.
"Still the next Sorcerer Supreme of Kamar-Taj."
"But you?"
"You're just a traitor!"
Ronan's words lit the fuse on Kaecilius's rage.
His eyes blazed with hate, like he'd swallow Ronan whole!
No—before swallowing, he'd make damn sure to torment him first.
"Wait till I cut out your tongue—see if you're still so sharp then."
"Let's see the power Lord Dormammu's granted me!"