MARVEL'S MONSTER HUNTER WORLD

Janet van Dyne, also known as the Wasp, hovered discreetly near the cracked walls of Watson Diarant's apartment. As she landed on the windowsill, she caught sight of someone she recognized - Phil Coulson, the ever-diplomatic S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Inside the apartment, Watson groaned, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Seriously, Coulson, what's the point of knocking when you can just waltz in through the gaping hole in my wall?"

Unfazed, Coulson stepped through the debris with practiced ease, offering a polite smile. "Mr. Diarant, I'm here to extend my courtesy and apologies for the intrusion. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Agent Phil Coulson, representing the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

Watson raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Strategic... what now? Is this some kind of off-brand FBI or CIA? Look, man, I'm just a regular guy trying to mind my own business."

Coulson glanced at the unmistakable blast marks surrounding the hole, then back at Watson. "A regular guy, huh?" His tone was polite, but his eyes betrayed skepticism. "I'd love to believe that, but considering the... circumstances, I think you owe me a little more than 'regular guy.' May I sit?"

Watson rolled his eyes but waved him in. "Sure, knock yourself out. Coffee?"

"Coffee would be great. Thank you."

As Coulson took a seat at the makeshift table, he extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Diarant. To clarify, we're not quite the FBI or CIA. We're a global organization, tasked with safeguarding humanity from threats of all kinds - both seen and unseen."

Watson shook his hand half-heartedly. "And that's got to do with me because…?"

Coulson's smile remained fixed, though his voice turned slightly more serious. "Because you're no longer an ordinary civilian. Not after your recent... enhancements."

He placed a stack of photos on the table. The images showed Watson standing alongside two monstrous creatures - fierce jackals that looked like they'd stepped straight out of a mythological horror story.

Watson stiffened but kept his expression neutral. "Let me summarize," Coulson continued. "You were just a normal guy until a car accident. Suddenly, you've got abilities far beyond those of regular humans. And, oh yeah, you've got some very unusual... pets."

His tone remained calm but carried an edge of warning. "If it weren't for your otherwise spotless record, this conversation would be happening under far less... friendly terms."

Watson leaned back, his expression hardening. "So, what exactly are you here for?"

"Simple." Coulson slid a document across the table. "Sign this agreement, and we can officially welcome you into the fold. Cooperation ensures mutual benefit - and continued peace."

Watson eyed the document with a growing sense of unease. It was obvious: this wasn't an invitation. It was a leash.

He smirked, masking his frustration with sarcasm. "Wow. Friendship by paperwork. You S.H.I.E.L.D. guys sure know how to roll out the welcome mat."

Coulson's expression didn't falter, but Watson could see the subtle tension building. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't here to make friends. They were here to control him.

Watson's mind raced. Alright, time to drop the sheep act. If they're going to play hardball, let's remind them who they're dealing with.

System, analysis: Will my fierce jackals - Fierce One and Fierce Two - be harmed by firearms?

Ding! After optimizing their physical forms to match this world's rules, the following applies:

Small-caliber firearms: No damage.

Medium-caliber firearms: Minor injuries.

Large-caliber firearms: Effective damage.

Watson's lips curled into a sly grin as a plan formed.

He pulled up his internal mini-map and noticed a familiar name: Clinton Francis Barton. Hawkeye.

The Avenger was perched on a nearby rooftop, watching the exchange through his sniper scope.

Of course, Coulson wouldn't come alone. They brought the big guns.

"Alright, Coulson," Watson said smoothly. "Let's make this interesting."

System, deploy Fierce One behind Hawkeye. Let's give him a surprise.

Also, drop Fierce Two outside the building - scare the rats but don't eat anyone. Yet.

---

On the Rooftop

Clint Barton crouched in position, his specialized arrow notched and ready to fire. From his vantage point, he had a clear shot at Watson.

If anything went sideways, he'd be ready.

But then... something felt off.