Standoff

Clark stood at the edge of the desert, the fading light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the barren expanse. Behind him, Fury and his team lingered like vultures, waiting, watching. The weight of their presence pressed on him, but Clark found himself strangely amused.

He had endured enough demands, ultimatums, and negotiations to last several lifetimes. Yet here was Fury—brash, self-assured, and entirely predictable—stepping forward like he held all the cards.

"Clark," Fury barked, his tone sharp and unyielding.

Clark didn't turn around. He didn't need to. Fury's voice carried that familiar edge, the one that demanded answers and left no room for deflection.

"You've been quiet long enough," Fury said, the tension palpable. "Let's skip the theatrics. You're not just some lost alien, so stop pretending. What are you really? Where are you from?"

Clark's shoulders shook—not with fear, not with anger—but with laughter. He turned slowly, his lips curving into a wry smirk. The setting sun cast his face in shadow, but the glint in his eyes was unmistakable: amusement.

"You really think you're in a position to demand answers from me?" Clark said, his voice carrying a sharp edge of mockery.

Fury's eyes narrowed. "I don't think; I know. You're standing on my Earth now, Kent. That means you play by my rules."

Clark chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. He shook his head, almost in disbelief. "Your Earth? That's cute. Do you have any idea what you're dealing with, Fury? Any idea at all?"

Fury took a step closer, his posture rigid, his expression unflinching. "I know you're dangerous. And I know unchecked power is a threat. You want a place here? Fine. But you'll earn it. You'll work with SHIELD—no secrets, no running, no excuses."

At that, Clark burst into full laughter, a deep, resonant sound that echoed across the empty desert. Fury's team exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to react. Even Fury's jaw tightened, though he refused to let the mockery shake him.

"You really think you can leash me?" Clark asked, his tone dripping with incredulity. "Monitor me? Control me? You're out of your depth, Director."

"Maybe," Fury shot back, his voice steady as steel. "But I've dealt with gods, aliens, and monsters before. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. So laugh all you want, but I've got contingencies. You won't walk this Earth unchecked."

Clark's laughter faded, replaced by a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Fury didn't flinch, though his team shifted nervously, their fingers twitching near their weapons.

"Contingencies?" Clark repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "You think I'm afraid of your little toys, Fury? Of whatever plans you've got scribbled in that paranoid little mind of yours?"

Fury held his ground. "You should be."

Clark's smirk widened. "No. You should be." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "I've seen worlds crumble. I've watched entire civilizations burn because of men who thought they could control the uncontrollable. You're no different."

For a long moment, the two men stared each other down, the air between them crackling with tension. Fury didn't blink, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—wariness, maybe even doubt.

"You want to keep tabs on me?" Clark continued, his tone turning cold. "Go ahead. Play your little spy games. But understand this: I don't owe you anything. Not answers, not cooperation, not loyalty. I'm here because I choose to be, not because of you."

Fury's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Clark turned away, his voice carrying over his shoulder as he walked into the desert. "Keep your contingencies, Fury. Keep watching me. It won't make a difference. When the time comes, you'll see just how little control you really have."

The wind howled through the barren landscape as Fury stood motionless, his team silent behind him. Coulson finally broke the tension, stepping up beside him.

"What now?" Coulson asked, his voice low.

Fury stared after Clark, his eyes hard, his mind racing. "We watch. We prepare. And if he steps out of line..." He paused, his tone dropping to something almost icy. "We make sure he never gets the chance to laugh again.