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DoorMan (MCU SI) - #116 : Petty use of Phenomenal powers....
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 12:00:35 +0000 UTCDisclaimer - I don’t own Marvel or any of its characters. The Mighty Mouse does and I hope it is not standing behind me with a shotgun cocked and ready to blow my brains out the second I have the audacity to press PUBLI——
DoorMan #116
Stark Residence, Malibu [May 2008]
–Phil Coulson–
To be honest, when he got that call and heard the information coming out the other end, he should have immediately informed Director Fury but he wanted to hold off on confirming the presence of the biggest thorn on the agency’s side, until he could confirm it.
As for the matter of Stane, he was already being investigated by them for shady transactions and missing weapons shipments that somehow found their way into the hands of either foreign governments who were not on the sanctioned list of countries that were allowed to buy Stark Industries’ advanced weaponry or in the hands of terrorists, plain and simple.
The Ten Rings were one such terrorist group that had found their hands on not just Stark Weaponry but the man himself. The rescue by the one who calls himself Mysterio had already raised alarm bells in SHIELD and Director Fury himself was going to speak with Stark soon enough but he never thought their intention of giving the clearly traumatised man some time to cool off would result in…this.
The cars skid to a halt, as he calmly got out, only to stop in his steps as he saw the yellow glow, even from this far away. That damned yellow glow. Sighing, he took out his phone and pressed send on the pre written message. He was sure that a thorough scolding was what awaited him once the Director came to know that he waited till the last moment to inform him about the presence of Mysterio in the house of Tony Stark.
“Stand down, non lethal weapons only! Create a perimeter!” He ordered as he walked forward, raising an eyebrow at the remnants of a glass that had been shattered, probably something worth a couple of months of his salary as he stepped through the front door and…froze.
Only for a moment but he froze, seeing the giant throne, on top of which the man sat with the signature orange onesie. The man who was by all means an above-average person in all size metrics, looked positively tiny compared to the throne that floated in the air.
Such petty use of such phenomenal powers. The analysts were right, this is either a person who never grew up mentally or someone who actually never grew up, i.e., someone less than 20 years old.
“Mysterio? You called,” Holstering the gun and signalling everyone else to do the same, he walked forward, raising an eyebrow at the downed forms of one Tony Stark, one Obadiah Stane and another person clad completely in black.
“Yes, I did. I’m glad you arrived on time. Any late and poor Stane here might have suffered a heart attack,” Mysterio gestured at the groaning man, as he walked forward and knelt by all the unconscious people present in the room one by one. He sighed in relief as he confirmed that all three of them were breathing with Stane and the person in black suffering the most injuries.
“Don’t worry, I did not kill any of them. They’re not worth the trouble it would bring with you guys,” Mysterio said, clearly amused by the situation, as he radioed in for medical assistance, as well as transport for high priority civilian, i.e., Stark.
“Ah, no need for that, actually,” Mysterio said and he tensed immediately as a Door appeared right above them, almost covering the entire ceiling, glowing the same colour as the one he saw in that shaky footage, recording the fact that Mysterio here can heal people en masse.
“Wai-” before he could voice his protest in or jump out of the range of that massive door, the Door glowed and a single tendril of golden yellow latched itself onto Stark. He stilled immediately, consciously angling himself so that the camera on his person could get the best angle for this because there being a single tendril meant that he was theoretically not under any risk of being subjected to unauthorised, untested healing.
They were still waiting for reports to come trickling in about the status of all the people in the town of Gulmirah who had been healed by Mysterio. For what reason? They did not know because there were certainly areas all around the world full of people even more miserable and yet, they recorded no such activities in those areas by Mysterio.
As sad as it was, it was the truth. So far, for the last two appearances, the common denominator was Stark but that did not prove anything because before that, Mysterio conducted half a dozen raids on secured SHIELD ships to raid data on a project that is now shelved indefinitely, as far as the official reports are concerned.
He knew Fury better to take anything the man said at face value.
The tendril disappeared a minute later, taking the Door with it, as Mysterio proclaimed, “There! As good as new,”
It was proven true when Mr.Stark woke up with a gasp, patting down his chest and his head, blinking to get out of the shock of being knocked out. He was about to question Mysterio about what had happened only for the man to volunteer the information.
“Stane came here, with the intention of killing Tony or atleast leaving him to die anyway,” he handed over Mr.Stark to a medic nearby, one of the few cleared to remain in the room to hear the stuff being spoken as he gave his full attention to Mysterio.
“With this,” He raised his hand to gingerly take in the device presented to him by one of Mysterio’s arms. Day by day, the threat rating for this person goes up in SHIELD’s database. Seeing it in person only cemented the threat because if he could just make up hands, thrones, claws, and more, what couldn’t he make? Weapons? Tools? Swords so sharp they could cut through steel?
It seemed as if it was only limited by his imagination and if there was something that humanity did not lack in any way, shape or form, it was imagination.
“That is apparently one of Stark Industries’ experimental prototypes. They never got the approval for it, as far as I can tell but Stane here, clearly found a use for it. He also had this,” He hastily put the small device into his pocket to take the much bigger one. “It was probably meant to take out the Arc Reactor in Tony’s chest, and seeing as the man needed that to live, I think you can put attempted murder on the litany of charges for him.”
“Thank you for that,” He gingerly put that down into the evidence suitcase one of his team members had opened up.
“Wha-” he turned around to see Mr.Stark awake and standing up, looking at the situation around him with wide, stressed eyes. “What the hell just happened? Obi-he–he tried to–”
“Calm down, Mr.Stark,” He raised his hands, trying to appear as non threatening as possible but before he could do anything, Mr.Stark looked around, then froze as if he remembered something specific before he ran down the stairs, presumably into the basement, his lab.
Clearing his throat, he ignored the rapid buzzing from his phone, likely a message from Director Fury, “So, can I ask you some questions from down here or do I need to call in a ladder?” He gestured at the over the top throne floating above ground, making him crane his neck to look up at Mysterio, which he assumed to be the plan from the beginning.
There was a tense moment of silence before the throne disappeared, Mysterio, orange and hideously visible, dropped down from the sky, completely silently he noted to himself, “Huh, that’s funny, Coulson. Now, shoot,”
Slightly taken aback by that, he instead began mentally preparing a list of the most important questions that had a chance of being answered but before he could open his mouth and ask any question, the floor split apart right behind Mysterio as Iron Man burst through it and flew away.
“Huh,” Mysterio remarked to himself, before awkwardly waving at Coulson, “Guess I better check that out, huh? Later,”
And just like that, Mysterio was gone and with it, his chance of asking the man some of the burning questions that Director Fury would no doubt want the answers to.
He did not groan in annoyance, no matter how much he wanted to. After all, he had an image to maintain.
