The next morning, Veyric was woken by the unmistakable reek of canned fish.
He rolled over, cracked one eye open, confirmed that sleep was no longer an option, and slowly sat up.
On the nightstand sat the box of chocolate Natasha had given him last night. Venom had insisted on not eating it, claiming the chocolate carried special meaning and that he refused to let it go to waste. Then he'd retreated with an air of noble self-sacrifice so theatrical it could have won an award.
Veyric's fingers brushed the box. The corner of his mouth twitched. He said nothing, splashed water on his face, and headed out.
Venom stirred lazily across his back. "Smells like canned fish."
A beat of silence.
"...I think I'll sleep a bit longer."
In the cafeteria, Hank had already set out the hot meal.
"Hot" was generous. It was last night's leftover fish and corn chowder, reheated and arranged neatly on the long table.
Peter sat at the far end, spoon hovering in midair, his voice carrying the specific exhaustion of a Monday morning: "Dr. McCoy, are you sure these didn't come out of a lab somewhere?"
Beast was already eating, clearly satisfied with his own handiwork.
Colossus sat across from him, spooning away with careful deliberation, his expression focused, as though any food placed before him deserved to be treated with full seriousness.
Blade occupied a corner, eyes on neither the food nor anyone else, drinking his soup in silence. The world and its problems existed somewhere he wasn't.
Veyric walked in, pulled out a chair, glanced at the spread, and frowned.
"How about I cook everyone a meal today?"
He'd promised as much, after all. Before anyone could respond, he was already on his feet and heading for the kitchen.
The bunker's kitchen was more spacious than he'd expected, and the cold storage was reasonably well stocked. Fury had done his homework when provisioning this place. The liquid-nitrogen-preserved ingredients weren't exactly farm-fresh, but the potatoes still felt firm when he squeezed them, and the dried green beans rehydrated to a passable color.
He dug out a cast-iron skillet and a chef's knife, peeled the potatoes, diced them, set everything in order. Garlic cloves smashed flat. Onions prepped.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor before long.
Natasha appeared in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame with a perfectly straight face. "I'm here on behalf of everyone to supervise food safety. I hear you claimed you could cook, so consider this an inspection."
Veyric glanced at her and slid a potato and the chef's knife across the counter. "In that case, the inspector can start by putting her skills to use. Dice these for me."
Natasha took the knife and got to work without a word.
He turned to the garlic, stealing a sideways look.
The potato cubes on her cutting board were stacked in precise rows. Uniform thickness. Cross-sections that were nearly perfect squares.
"Those knife skills could put a five-star chef to shame."
World-class spy. Of course the handwork is impeccable.
She smiled.
The kitchen fell into a comfortable quiet after that.
Veyric had cooked for himself plenty of times before the transmigration. His skills weren't award-winning, but they were more than enough to conquer a group of superheroes who had been subsisting on bland cafeteria rations and takeout.
Besides, his body was now LV.2 across every attribute. Heat tolerance, wrist strength for handling a heavy skillet, sharpness of taste... all far beyond an ordinary person's range.
With Natasha assisting in seamless rhythm beside him, it took less than half an hour. Five dishes, all generous portions, all looking the part when they hit the table.
Smoked pulled pork sliders. Bacon-wrapped meatloaf. Loaded potato skins. Honey-glazed cornbread. And a rich beef stew to round it out. A proper home-cooked American spread.
By the time the dishes landed, the cafeteria was full.
Peter was the first to grab his fork. He speared a loaded potato skin, popped it in his mouth, chewed for two seconds, then his head snapped up with the expression of someone who'd stumbled onto buried treasure. "This is incredible!"
Beast sampled a piece of the honey-glazed cornbread, chewing slowly, eyes drifting upward. "Butter as the base note, honey for sweetness, a hint of jalapeño heat on the finish. The ratios are remarkably well-balanced. The layering of flavors..."
Nobody was listening to Hank. Everyone was too busy eating.
Colossus didn't say a single word throughout. He worked his way through every dish with quiet composure, each bite deliberate, like he was attending to something that required his full concentration.
Then, without warning, he set down his bowl and stood. He turned to Veyric and delivered a deep, solemn bow.
Veyric blinked. "Big guy, you really don't have to be that formal."
Colossus straightened, his expression earnest to the bone. "Where I come from, when you eat a good meal, you must properly thank the cook."
But what turned the cafeteria into a proper spectacle was Hawkeye.
Clint Barton picked up his slider, took one massive bite, and immediately got a streak of barbecue sauce across his cheek and down his chin. He didn't notice. He just kept going, demolishing the thing in three bites flat, sauce on his fingers, sauce on the table, sauce somehow on his elbow.
Peter held it together for as long as he could. Then he didn't. A sharp laugh burst out of him.
Natasha's lips curved into a quiet smile. Falcon grinned wide. Even Blade, stone-faced as ever, cracked the faintest trace of amusement.
Laughter and appreciative noises washed through the cafeteria, loosening things up, and conversations splintered off in every direction.
Veyric used the opening to shift his attention to Sam.
Falcon was focused on his beef stew, his expression noticeably more relaxed than the night before.
"Sam," Veyric said, keeping it casual. "About the wings. Maybe you could trust me on this one."
Sam set down his spoon.
He looked up at Veyric for a second, then dropped his gaze. A few seconds of silence passed before he spoke.
"I'll try running my own repairs today. If I need help, I'll come find you tomorrow."
Veyric nodded. Nothing more needed saying. The guard Falcon had been keeping up had come down a notch.
[Ding!]
[Culinary Bonus triggered: All heroes' Affinity +10]
[Spider-Man Affinity: 100 → 110]
[Venom Affinity: 100 → 110]
[Blade Affinity: 120 → 130]
[Black Widow Affinity: 110 → 120]
[Beast Affinity: 90 → 100. Bond Level LV.0 (Stranger) → LV.1 (Companion)]
[Colossus Affinity: 60 → 70]
[Hawkeye Affinity: 50 → 60]
[Falcon Affinity: 50 → 60]
Huh.
His eyes lit up. He hadn't expected a home-cooked meal to come with bonus rewards.
Beast's bond reward box alone meant another 2 experience points in his pocket.
After the meal, everyone pitched in to clear the kitchen and wash the dishes without being asked, giving Veyric some breathing room.
He leaned against the corridor wall, alone, and opened the system interface.
"System. Open Beast's Bond Reward."