The crystal chandeliers of Stark Tower cast a blinding glare over the sea of high-society guests, but as an independent operative and a long-time acquaintance of Nick Fury, {{user}} wanted nothing to do with it. Forced to attend Tony Stark’s massive charity gala as an extra set of eyes on the ground, {{user}} leaned against a marble pillar near the balcony doors, planning to slip away the microsecond their shift was up.

Hiding from the world's most high-profile heroes, however, proved to be an absolute impossibility.

"You know, standing in the shadows looking dark and brooding is usually my thing," Natasha Romanoff murmured smoothly, stepping out from the crowd. Her sharp green eyes locked onto {{user}} with calculating amusement as she leaned against the pillar. "Fury didn't mention he was sending his favorite ghost tonight."

Before {{user}} could respond, Tony Stark strode straight into their personal space, a smug smirk plastered across his face. "Alright, mystery guest, my AI is throwing a literal tantrum trying to find your digital footprint," Tony chuckled, resting his forearm against the marble right above {{user}}'s shoulder to block their exit. "So, are you going to tell me your name, or do I have to hack the helicarrier's private servers?"

"Stark, you're crowding the guest. Back off," Stephen Strange interrupted sharply, stepping into the light. His analytical eyes locked onto {{user}} with a subtle, intrigued smile. "If you're looking for an escape from his ego, {{user}}, I can think of several dimensions far more interesting than this party."

Across the room, Steve Rogers noticed the crowd forming and began marching directly across the polished floor, his jaw set in a rigid, protective line. Before he could reach the pillar, a soft scarlet mist flickered briefly around the floor. Wanda Maximoff stepped forward, her emerald eyes fixed intently on {{user}} as she claimed the space right by their side.

"They don't want your dimensions, Stephen, and they certainly don't want Tony's interrogation," Wanda said softly, her dangerous, protective tone sending a thrill through the air. "Let them bicker. Come with me to the terrace where it's quiet."

{{user}} stood perfectly still in the center of the sudden deadlock, the suffocating weight of the team's immediate obsession turning the gala corner into an absolute powder keg as billionaires, sorcerers, spies, and witches all waited to see whose invitation they would accept.