Chapter 124
Avengers
Arc 8 - Ch 16: Assemble
Wednesday, May 02, 2012.
Location: Kolkata, India
As night descended upon a slum in India, a small figure darted through the crowds. The little girl, no more than eight years old, made her way into a home that had been transformed into an impromptu hospital. The pungent smell of illness and sweat assaulted her senses, but she pressed on. Inside the house, Dr. Bruce Banner worked tirelessly, his forehead glistening with sweat as he moved from patient to patient. He had come to this place seeking solitude, a refuge from the monster within and those hunting him without, but had found himself using his meager medical knowledge to earn a living.
The child pushed through the doorway. An attending woman, her face etched with lines of exhaustion, moved to intercept her.
"What are you doing here?!" the woman exclaimed in Hindi. "Get out! You shouldn't be here."
The girl, undeterred, looked directly at Dr. Banner. "I have to see the doctor," she pleaded. "It's my father."
Bruce, hearing the commotion, turned toward the scene unfolding before him. He approached her. "Calm down. What's wrong?"
The child's gaze swept around the room, taking in the sick people lying on makeshift beds.
"My father..." she began, unable to finish the sentence as she stared at the afflicted.
Banner knelt down, bringing himself to her level. "Is he like them?" he asked softly, already suspecting the answer.
In response, the little girl thrust out her hand, clutching a crumpled wad of bills. She switched to English, pleading, "Please."
That single word, laden with desperation and hope, struck a chord within him. Bruce nodded, grabbing his medical bag and following her out into the night.
They raced through the labyrinthine alleys of the slum. As they ran, he caught sight of a nice car parked among the ramshackle dwellings. Unease flickered through him, but Banner pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task. The girl led him to a small, dilapidated structure that served as her home. He barely had time to enter before she darted through a window, disappearing into the shadows beyond. Banner stood there, momentarily stunned by her sudden vanishing act.
"Should have gotten paid up front, Banner," he muttered to himself, ruefully acknowledging his own naivety.
"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle."
He turned slowly to come face to face with a familiar figure. A beautiful redhead stood in the doorway.
"Avoiding stress isn't the secret," Bruce replied.
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Then, what is it? Yoga?"
Banner studied the woman before him, trying to place where he had seen her before. Suddenly, recognition dawned on him, and memories of New York flooded back.
"You're the SHIELD agent," he said. "The one who was with Mirage when he helped me escape the military."
Natasha nodded. "I was. Mirage is a... good friend."
The mention of Mirage stirred something within Bruce. The young man had extended him an olive branch, and he'd passed it up, not wanting to put him at risk. Banner had chosen this remote location precisely to avoid confrontations, yet here he was.
He glanced around the small room, assessing his surroundings. "You brought me to the edge of the city, smart," he observed. "I uh... assume the whole place is surrounded?"
"Just you and me."
Bruce couldn't help but feel skeptical. His experiences had taught him to be cautious, especially when it came to those associated with government agencies. "And your actress buddy, is she a spy too?" he asked. "Do they start that young?"
"I did," she replied simply.
Her words hung between them. Banner found himself reassessing the woman, realizing there was more to her story than he had initially assumed. "Who are you?"
"Natasha Romanoff."
"Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff?" he asked quietly. "Because that's not gonna work out for everyone."
Natasha shook her head emphatically. "No. No. Of course not."
"How did SHIELD find me?"
"We never lost you, doctor," she explained. "We've kept our distance, even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent. Like certain generals that really wanted to find you."
Banner frowned, confusion and suspicion warring within him. "Why?"
"We need you to come in," Natasha said, side-stepping his question.
He felt familiar tension building within him, the ever-present struggle to maintain control. "What if I said no?"
Her lips curved into a small smile. "I'll persuade you."
Banner couldn't help but let out a humorless chuckle. "And what if the... other guy says no?"
"You've been more than a year without an incident. I don't think you wanna break that streak."
The reminder of his hard-won control, the constant battle he fought every day, threatened to overwhelm him. "I don't always get what I want."
Her expression softened. "I understand you just want to be left alone," she said. "I was there that day at Culver University. I got there too late to help you escape the military." Bruce stared at her in surprise at this revelation. Natasha continued. "Believe me, I'd be more than happy to leave you here to play doctor." She pulled out her phone. "But we're facing a potential global catastrophe."
Banner couldn't help but let out a sardonic chuckle. "Well, those I actively try to avoid."
She held out her phone, displaying an image that caught his attention. "This is the Tesseract," she explained gravely. "It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet."
He leaned in, his scientific curiosity piqued despite his reservations.
"What do you want me to do? Swallow it?"
Amusement flickered across her features at his dark humor. "Well, we want you to find it," she explained. "It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. No one knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that's where I'd be."
Suspicion crossed Banner's face. "So SHIELD isn't after the monster?"
"Not that I've been told."
He let out a humorless chuckle. "And you're told everything?"
"SHIELD needs you on this."
His suspicion morphed into anger. "Needs me in a cage?"
"No one's gonna put you in a..."
"STOP LYING TO ME!" Banner slammed his fists onto the rickety table between them.
He'd expected Natasha to flinch, to draw her sidearm, maybe even for a team of agents to storm in. But she hadn't moved a muscle. Romanoff stared at him impassively, betraying no fear or alarm.
Bruce realized how the scene must have looked. A harmless book nerd throwing a tantrum. Only Natasha did know about the danger lurking beneath his mild-mannered exterior, and yet she remained unfazed. The irony wasn't lost on him. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "I'm sorry, that was mean. I just wanted to see what you'd do."
Natasha remained silent, studying his face. Banner could see her reassessing him, recalculating her approach.
"I'm with you," he continued with resignation. "Just you and me?"
At this, her stoic facade finally cracked. A snort of amusement escaped her lips, and she shook her head slightly. "Mirage will be there, hopefully," she said, fondness creeping into her voice. "And so will others."
Banner found himself intrigued by Natasha's mention of these mysterious "others." Despite his reservations, he couldn't deny the pull of curiosity about the Tesseract.
— Rogue Redemption —
Deputy Director Maria Hill stepped into the executive lounge at House of M, immediately drawing the attention of the assembled group. The room was filled with familiar faces she'd come to know during her time at the facility. Felicia Hardy, Jessica Drew, Logan, and Maki Matsumoto were present, along with a few others Hill didn't know as well.
Jessica was the first to break the silence. "Have you heard anything about Tyson?"
"Tyson was returned to Earth. He was found by Agent Romanoff, in her apartment in Russia."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the room. Everyone, that is, except Logan, who simply lifted his glass in a nonchalant gesture.
"See, you were all worried over nothin'," Logan drawled. "Kid's harder to kill than a cockroach."
Felicia's tone still reflected concern and relief. "When will he be back?"
Hill grew serious once more. "That's the problem," she began. "I assume Tyson told you about his other adventures. The Asgardian, Loki, has returned to Earth."
The group exchanged knowing looks, silent understanding passing between them. They were all too familiar with the dangers that name implied.
Hill continued. "Tyson immediately left with Amora to retrieve Thor, the Prince of Asgard. When he returns, they'll likely go straight after Loki, so it might be some time before he's back in New York."
The room fell silent as the implications sank in. Nearly every person present from the House of M understood the gravity of the situation, the threat that loomed on the horizon.
After a moment, Hill spoke again. "I just wanted to let you know in person. I've got to go."
Felicia frowned. "Where are you going?"
"We need more help. I'm going to get Steve Rogers."
At the mention of Steve's name, Logan set down his glass with a soft thud. He reached for his hat, placing it on his head with a practiced motion. "I'm coming with you," he declared. "This lot doesn't need me, and I can talk with Steve."
Hill considered Logan's offer for a moment, weighing the potential benefits against any possible complications. Logan had indeed spent more time with Steve than anyone else present, and his strength could prove valuable. After a brief pause, she nodded.
As Hill and Logan prepared to depart, the rest of the group remained in the lounge, their minds racing with the implications. Jessica paced near the window, her fingers drumming against her thigh as she processed the information. Felicia leaned back in her chair, lost in thought as she contemplated the potential challenges ahead.
Maki, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke up. "Should we prepare for potential threats here?" she asked. "Loki is back, just like Tyson said."
"Yes. We need to start making moves," Felicia nodded.
The car pulled away from the curb outside House of M and made its way south through the quiet streets of New York. The city that never sleeps seemed subdued tonight, as if holding its breath in anticipation of the challenges to come. Inside the vehicle, Maria Hill and Logan sat in companionable silence.
The SUV drove the short distance to the Brooklyn Bridge and crossed the East River, leaving behind the glittering skyline of Manhattan and entering the familiar streets of Brooklyn. After a short drive, they pulled up to an unassuming building with a weathered brick facade.
As they approached the entrance, Logan led the way up the worn concrete steps. The sign above the door read "Goldie's Boxing Gym," its paint faded and peeling. As they stepped inside, the musty scent of old sweat and leather from countless hours of training enveloped them. The gym was eerily quiet at this late hour, save for the rhythmic thud of fists against leather. The overhead lights illuminated a solitary figure in the center of the room. Captain America, Steve Rogers, stood alone, his powerful form silhouetted as he pummeled a heavy bag.
The gym itself seemed a relic from a bygone era. Vintage posters of long-forgotten boxers adorned the walls, their edges curling with age. The wooden floorboards creaked underfoot. A stack of folding chairs gathered dust in one corner while a radio sat silently on a nearby shelf, its dial permanently set to a station that no longer existed.
As Logan and Hill watched from the doorway, Steve's fists continued their relentless assault on the bag. He seemed distant, unfocused, as if seeing something beyond the present moment.
He sprinted through a dense forest, his shield raised to deflect the chaos erupting around him. Mortar shells exploded in deafening bursts, showering the ground with debris. The air crackled with gunfire and the eerie blue glow of energy blasts.
The Red Skull grasped the glowing blue cube. In a flash of brilliant light, he vanished, leaving behind only emptiness.
Steve's voice, tinged with desperation, echoed.
"There's not enough time! I gotta put her in the water!"
His punches grew more forceful. Each impact reverberated through the empty gym. It was as if he was trying to beat back the memories that haunted him, his knuckles white beneath the wrappings.
In the cockpit of a massive plane, Steve steered the aircraft toward the ice below. With trembling hands, he placed a compass on the dashboard, its face revealing a photograph of a beautiful woman. Peggy Carter. Her voice was filled with emotion as she whispered.
"You won't be alone."
Steve's assault on the punching bag had become almost frenzied, his powerful muscles rippling with each devastating blow. The chain holding the bag groaned under the onslaught, threatening to give way at any moment.
Inside a laboratory, on a metal table, lay a figure encased in ice. Steve Rogers, frozen in time. Two SHIELD scientists hovered over him, their faces a mixture of awe and disbelief as they ran various instruments over his still form. One of the scientists exclaimed in shock and excitement. "Oh my god! This guy is still alive!"
He delivered a final, devastating punch to the bag. The chain snapped with a metallic shriek, and the bag flew across the room and slammed into the far wall, splitting open and spilling sand across the floor. Captain America stood there, chest heaving, slowly refocusing on the present. Without a word, he walked over to a row of identical bags and hefted a new one onto the hook. As he resumed a more measured routine, the sound of footsteps behind him caused him to pause.
As Logan and Hill stepped into Steve's line of sight, the Captain recognized them immediately. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, but the haunted look remained.
"Troubled thoughts, Steve?" Hill asked gently.
Rogers stopped punching and walked over to the bench, unraveling the wrap from his hands. As he sat down, his voice carried weight and melancholy. "I went under, the world was at war, I woke up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost." He paused, amusement creeping in.
"But, maybe I'm too quick to judge. I'm still trying to work my way through the list of movies Tyson gave me." Logan chuckled softly, well aware of the kid's knack for pop culture. Steve's tone shifted more formal. "Jimmy, Deputy Director. Good to see you. You here with a mission, ma'am?"
"We need your help, Captain Rogers."
"Trying to get me back in the world?" Steve asked.
Logan interrupted, "More than that, bub. Time to save it."
Hill reached into her jacket and pulled out a file, handing it to him. As Rogers opened it, he recognized the familiar blue glowing cube immediately.
"Hydra's secret weapon," he murmured.
"Howard Stark discovered it when he was looking for you. He thought that the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world needs." She paused. "There are other projects, of course. Tony Stark, Howard's son, and Tyson, Mirage, both have potential projects, but I don't need to tell you that the Tesseract is dangerous. And it's been stolen."
Steve frowned. "Who took it from you?"
Logan's response was blunt. "He's called Loki. He's an alien. The kid fought him last year and lost."
Rogers let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Lost? Are we still talking about the same kid who fought off that whole group in Times Square the day I woke up? And he was beaten by an alien?" He shook his head. "I doubt anything would surprise me."
Logan remained serious. "You're wrong, bub."
Steve stood up and walked over to the row of punching bags. He hefted one onto his shoulder, tucking the folder under his arm.
As he began to walk out of the gym, Hill's voice called out after him. "Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?"
Without breaking stride, Steve's response was immediate and bitter. "You should have left it in the ocean."
Logan watched as those broad shoulders disappeared through the doorway. He turned to Hill. "I'll help catch him up," he said, already moving to follow the Captain.
— Rogue Redemption —
Tony Stark's arc reactor illuminated the murky waters of the Hudson River as he cut through a pipeline. As he finished, he reached for a device. Placing it into position, he watched with satisfaction as it lit up, bathing the water in a soft, pulsating light before he engaged his thrusters and rocketed to the surface. The Iron Man suit cut through the air with a familiar whine, leaving a trail of mist in its wake as Tony soared towards Stark Tower.
"You're good on this end," Tony announced. "The rest is up to you."
Miles away, in the upper levels of Stark Tower, Pepper Potts stood surrounded by displays. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she darted between multiple screens as she monitored the tower's systems.
"You disconnected the transition lines?" Pepper asked. "Are we off the grid?"
Tony couldn't help but smile at the worry in her voice. Despite years of working together and their evolving relationship, she still marveled at the audacity of his projects.
"Stark Tower is about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy," he replied with certainty.
Pepper's face appeared on Tony's HUD monitor inside the suit. "So you assume our reactor takes over, and it actually works?"
Tony grinned with mischief and confidence. "I assume," he said. As he approached the tower, he added, "Light her up."
Pepper took a deep breath and initiated the sequence. Outside, the massive Stark Tower began to come alive. Floor by floor, lights flickered on, creating a cascade of illumination that climbed the building's impressive height. The crowning moment came when the Stark logo burst into brilliant, sustained light, visible for miles around.
Inside the suit, Tony's face lit up with satisfaction. This was more than just a technological achievement; it was a dream realized, a step towards a cleaner, more sustainable future.
"How does it look?" Pepper asked.
Tony hovered in the air, taking in the sight.
"Like Christmas," he replied, "but with more... me."
As he admired his handiwork, Stark couldn't help but feel accomplished. This wasn't just about clean energy or sustainable technology; it was about leaving a legacy, about changing the world for the better.
The citizens of New York, going about their evening routines, couldn't help but notice the sudden brilliance emanating from Stark Tower. Some stopped in their tracks, shielding themselves as they looked up at the spectacle. Others pulled out their phones, eager to capture the moment.
As Tony Stark approached the landing platform of his skyscraper penthouse, the sophisticated array of machinery sprang to life. The platform's edge lit up with a soft blue glow, lining up his descent. As his feet touched down, robotic arms emerged from hidden compartments, their movements precise and fluid. Piece by piece, the Iron Man suit was disassembled from his body. The helmet retracted first, revealing Tony's face. The chest plate followed, then the gauntlets and leg pieces, each component smoothly detaching and being whisked away by the automated system.
Inside the penthouse, Pepper Potts stood before a bank of holographic screens, monitoring the reactor's performance.
As the last piece of the Iron Man suit was removed, Tony stepped off the platform and into the penthouse proper. He rolled his shoulders, relishing the feeling of being free from the suit's confines. Before he could speak, the smooth, cultured voice of JARVIS, his AI assistant, filled the room. "Sir, Agent Coulson of SHIELD is on the line."
His smile faltered slightly. He had been looking forward to celebrating this moment with Pepper, and the last thing he wanted was an interruption from SHIELD. "If he's not calling about Tyson catching a shuttle back to Earth, I don't want to hear it," Tony replied.
There was a brief pause before JARVIS responded, an apology in his artificial voice. "Sir, I'm afraid Agent Coulson is insisting on speaking with you."
Tony's expression hardened. He had faced down terrorists, rival industrialists, and even other superheroes, but sometimes the persistence of SHIELD agents tested even his patience. "I'm off-duty for the night. Grow a spine, Jarvis. I got a date."
Pepper, who had been listening to the exchange while still monitoring the reactor data, raised an eyebrow at Tony's last comment. "Levels are holding steady... I think."
Tony, now free of his suit, strode confidently into the room. "Of course they are, I was directly involved," he replied with his trademark swagger. Then, softening slightly, he added, "Which brings me to my next question: how does it feel to be a genius?"
"Well, ha, I really wouldn't know now, would I?"
Stark seemed confused. "What do you mean? All this came from you."
Pepper shook her head, gesturing towards the glowing circle in his chest. "No. All this came from that."
"Give yourself some credit, please. Stark Tower is your baby. Give yourself... twelve percent of the credit."
Pepper stared at him in disbelief. "Twelve percent?"
Tony, realizing he might have misspoken, quickly added, "An argument can be made for fifteen."
"Twelve percent?" she repeated, her voice rising slightly. "For my baby?"
Tony, now on the defensive, tried to explain. "Well, I did do all the heavy lifting. Literally, I lifted the heavy things. And sorry, but the security snafu? That was on you."
"Oooooh," Pepper exhaled.
"My private elevator..." Tony began, but Pepper quickly interjected.
"You mean our elevator?"
He continued, undeterred, "Was steaming with sweaty workmen."
As the words left his mouth, Tony realized he might have dug himself into a hole. "I'm going to pay for that comment about percentages in some subtle way later, aren't I?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
As Pepper poured champagne into two flutes, the room's atmosphere eased slightly. The golden liquid bubbled and fizzed. "Not gonna be that subtle," she remarked, amusement twinkling as she handed Tony his glass.
Tony, sensing the need to smooth things over, offered a grand gesture. "I'll tell you what. Next building's gonna say 'Potts' on the tower."
Pepper countered, "On the lease."
Stark raised his eyebrows in surprise and leaned in closer, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Call your mom, can you bunk over?"
Before Pepper could respond, JARVIS's voice cut through the moment. "Sir, the telephone. I'm afraid my protocols are being overwritten."
Suddenly, Agent Coulson's voice filled the room, urgent and insistent. "Stark, we need to talk."
Tony, his mood instantly souring, picked up his phone and looked at it, seeing Coulson's face on the screen. With heavy sarcasm, he quipped, "You have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark, please leave a message."
Coulson, undeterred, pressed on. "This is urgent."
"Then leave it urgently."
As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open, revealing Agent Coulson in person. Stark stared in disbelief. "Security breach," he announced, then turned to Pepper, adding, "And it's the elevator. That's on you."
Coulson stepped into the penthouse, serious despite the celebratory atmosphere he was interrupting. "Mr. Stark," he began, but Pepper cut him off.
"Phil! Come in," she greeted warmly, much to Tony's chagrin.
"Phil? Uh, his first name is Agent."
Pepper, ever the gracious host, ignored Tony's comment. "Come on in, we're celebrating."
"I can't stay."
Tony, seizing the opportunity, chimed in, "Which is why he can't stay."
Undeterred, Coulson held out a file towards him. "We need you to look this over. As soon as possible."
"I don't like being handed things."
Pepper, used to Tony's quirks, smoothly intervened. "That's alright, 'cause I love to be handed things. So, let's trade." With practiced ease, she passed her glass of champagne to Coulson, took the file from him, then took Tony's glass while replacing it with the file. "Thank you."
Tony, still resistant, tried to brush off the interruption. "Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday."
"This isn't a consultation."
Pepper, curiosity getting the better of her, ventured, "Is this about The Avengers? Which I... I know nothing about."
"The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, I thought. And I didn't even qualify."
Pepper, surprised by this revelation, added, "I didn't know that either."
"Yeah, apparently I'm volatile, self-obsessed, don't play well with others."
Pepper, unable to resist, quipped, "That I did know."
Coulson, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand, stated firmly, "This isn't about personality profiles anymore."
"What about the kid?" he asked, concern and irritation mixing.
"Agent Smith was discovered in Agent Romanoff's apartment in Russia."
"Oh, thank God."
Tony, on the other hand, merely mumbled, "Figures," under his breath. His response earned him a sharp slap on the arm from Pepper, who shot him a disapproving look.
"Whatever. Miss Potts, got a minute?" he asked, gesturing for her to join him.
As Pepper walked over, he began transferring the files from the physical folder into his own databases.
"You know, I thought we were having a moment," Tony said, disappointment creeping in.
She retorted, "I was having twelve percent of a moment." She glanced towards Coulson, who stood stoically nearby. "This seems serious. Phil's pretty shaken."
Stark seemed confused. "How did you notice? Why is he Phil?" he asked, unable to hide jealousy.
She, ignoring his questions, focused on the task at hand. "What is all of this?" she asked, gesturing to the data Tony was uploading.
"This is, uh..." he began, expanding his arms. Suddenly, different profiles appeared in holographic form, floating in the air in front of them.
The room was filled with vivid images. There was Captain America in action, his shield protecting him, then bouncing off walls to strike enemy soldiers. The Hulk roared as he attacked the army at Culver University. Thor, the God of Thunder, battled the Destroyer in New Mexico, lightning crackling around him.
Another image showed Tyson, catching a car the Abomination was about to use to crush soldiers in Harlem, the streets crumbling beneath their titanic struggle. Yet another depicted his fierce battle in Times Square, with Magneto and the Brotherhood.
Amidst these scenes, one image stood out.
Loki standing next to the glowing blue cube of the Tesseract.
"I'm going to take the jet to DC tonight," Pepper said resolutely.
Tony, still lost in the implications of what he was seeing, absently replied, "Tomorrow."
"You've got homework," she said firmly. Then, glancing at the floating holograms, she added, "You've got a lot of homework."
— Rogue Redemption —
Inside the Quinjet, Steve Rogers sat with a tablet, watching footage of the Hulk's rampage at Culver University. Logan occupied the seat beside him, equally focused on the screen. The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, "We're about forty minutes out from base, sir."
Agent Coulson rose from his seat and approached Steve, his professional demeanor doing little to mask his excitement.
"So, this Doctor Banner was trying to replicate the serum that was used on me?" Steve asked.
"A lot of people were. You were the world's first superhero. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."
On the tablet, the Hulk roared in fury, effortlessly tearing a jeep apart. Steve paused the footage, studying the display of raw power. "Didn't really go his way, did it?"
"Not so much," Coulson admitted. "When he's not that thing, though, the guy's like a Stephen Hawking." Steve's confused look prompted Coulson to quickly add, "He's like a smart person." After a brief pause, the agent continued, "I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you, officially." Steve offered a polite smile, but Coulson pressed on, words rushing out. "I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping."
Logan burst out laughing. "Smooth pickup line there, bub. Real smooth."
Steve stood, closing his laptop and moving to the side of the Quinjet. Coulson followed. "I mean, I was... I was present while you were unconscious from the ice. You know, it's really just a huge honor to have you on board."
Logan shook his head, still grinning. "You're diggin' yourself deeper, pal. Might want to quit while you're behind."
Steve, ever the gentleman, tried to ease the awkwardness. "Well, I hope I can live up to the legend, Agent Coulson."
"Legend? More like a walkin', talkin' recruitment poster. No offense, Cap."
"None taken, I suppose. Though I'm not sure how to take being called a poster boy by someone who looks like he stepped out of a lumberjack catalog."
Logan's eyebrows shot up. "Looks like your sense of humor is finally starting to thaw. What are the odds they pull your old costume out of storage?"
"Actually, the original costume is in the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian. We took the original design, made some modifications, and created a new one." Coulson paused, pride creeping into his tone. "I had a little design input."
"Aren't the stars and stripes a little... old-fashioned?"
"With everything that's happening, the things that are about to come to light, people might just need a little old-fashioned."
Logan chimed in, "This group's about as old-fashioned as it gets. A guy from the '40s, another who's pushing 200, and an agent who looks like he stepped out of a '60s spy flick. We're practically a walking museum."
Coulson opened his mouth to respond, but his phone rang. He quickly answered, his professional demeanor snapping back. "Coulson here."
Maria Hill's tense voice came through. "Phil, we've got a situation. Fury's already on the helicarrier."
"But you said—"
"That he was compromised," Hill cut him off. "I know. He's acting normal, but he was radio silent after the incident at the facility, and Dr. Sofen was adamant about what she saw. Something's not right."
"And the Doctor?"
"Lying low. If what she saw was true, I didn't want him to realize she was still active. Natasha arrived with Banner. Mirage has yet to return."
Steve and Logan watched him intently, sensing the shift in his demeanor. "Understood. We're about thirty minutes out. Keep watch, but don't tip our hand. We'll assess when we arrive."
As he hung up, Steve asked, "What's the situation, Agent Coulson?"
Coulson weighed how much he should reveal. Neither Logan nor Steve Rogers were trained agents, and neiter were exactly subtle. "There's been an unexpected complication, but nothing you need to worry about. The mission hasn't changed."
The Quinjet descended smoothly onto the massive deck of the SHIELD Helicarrier. The vast expanse of Atlantic stretched in every direction, broken only by occasional whitecaps.
Steve stepped out first, his jacket catching the sea breeze. The familiar scent of fuel stirred memories of military operations from what felt like a lifetime ago.
Natasha Romanoff waited on deck, red hair whipping in the wind. Behind her, dozens of SHIELD personnel scurried across the carrier's surface, securing aircraft and running pre-flight checks.
"Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers, Logan," Coulson introduced.
"Ma'am?" Steve acknowledged Natasha with old-fashioned courtesy.
Her lips curved slightly as she glanced at Coulson. "Hi. They need you on the bridge. They're starting the face-trace."
"Have you been apprised of the situation?" At her nod, Coulson strode away, confident she would handle things. "See you there."
"It was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice," Natasha said to Steve. "I thought Coulson was gonna swoon. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?"
"Trading cards?"
"They're vintage, he's very proud." She turned her attention to Logan. "I'm surprised you came."
Logan's guard went up. "You know me? I wasn't in your little briefing."
"We never met, but share a mutual acquaintance," she explained. "I was the one who recruited Tyson to SHIELD."
"You're the hot teacher?" Logan caught her raised eyebrow and quickly raised his hands. "Jubilee's words, not mine."
A shadow passed over her features. "I'm sorry for your loss. I met Jubilee once. She was a lovely girl."
"Yeah," Logan replied gruffly. He sniffed the air. "I can smell the kid on you."
Natasha was unperturbed by the observation. "Yes, the Enchantress brought him to my apartment while I was undercover. Hopefully, we'll be seeing him soon."
Across the deck, Bruce Banner navigated through the bustle of personnel, obviously uncomfortable and trying to maintain a low profile. Steve spotted him and greeted, "Dr. Banner."
They approached each other, hands extending in greeting.
"Oh, yeah. Hi," Bruce said with resignation in his voice. "They told me you'd be coming."
"Word is you can find the cube."
Bruce studied him carefully. "Is that the only word on me?"
"Only word I care about," Steve responded sincerely.
Banner's tension eased slightly. "Must be strange for you. All of this."
Steve watched a group of men running drills nearby. "Well, this is actually kind of familiar."
The deck beneath their feet began to vibrate as Natasha said, "Gentlemen, you might want to step inside in a minute. It's gonna get a little hard to breathe."
The vibration intensified as crew members scrambled to secure equipment. Metal groaned and hydraulics hissed across the massive vessel.
Steve moved to the railing, peering over the edge. "Is this a submarine?"
"Really?" Bruce's voice carried bitter humor. "They wanted me in a submerged, pressurized metal container?"
The wind whipped stronger around them as the massive carrier's systems engaged, the ocean's surface beginning to churn beneath.
Steve and Bruce watched as massive turbines emerged from the carrier's sides, water streaming off their slowly spinning blades. Four enormous lift fans mounted along the vessel's flanks began to rise into position.
Steve watched in amazement at the technological marvel, "You were right, Logan," he said, shaking his head. "I can still be surprised."
Bruce shook his head. "Oh, no. This is much worse."
Maria Hill's voice echoed over the deck speakers, "All hands, secure for lift. Bridge crew report to stations. We are going wheels up in five minutes."
The group made its way inside as the Helicarrier continued its ascent. Crew members rushed through corridors to assigned stations.
The bridge doors parted with a soft hiss, revealing dozens of agents sitting before viewscreens, monitoring systems, and communications channels.
"Welcome to SHIELD's mobile command center," Agent Hill announced. "The Helicarrier."
Through reinforced windows, they watched the vast expanse of ocean fall away beneath them. Sunlight pierced through clouds that parted around the rising vessel.
Nick Fury stood at the center. His leather coat and eye patch cut an imposing figure against the backdrop of screens and activity. His presence commanded attention without him having to say a word.
"We're at lock, sir," Hill reported.
"Good. Let's move."
Steve marvelled at the technology surrounding him. It made his old war maps and radio communications seem like children's toys.
"Gentlemen," Fury extended his hand to Banner, who stood slightly apart, visibly tense in the confines of the ship. "Doctor, thank you for coming. I apologize for interrupting your work. It wasn't my orders that dragged you away, but since you're here, we can use your assistance." He shot Natasha a pointed look.
She responded with a casual shrug, completely unfazed. Her posture remained relaxed, but as Fury turned away, she scanned him, taking in every detail.
Banner reluctantly shook Fury's hand. "Thanks for asking nicely. So, uh... how long am I staying?"
"I've got a special ride reserved for you back to the surface," Fury assured him. "If you can help us locate the Tesseract, I'm happy to send you down."
Banner's shoulders relaxed slightly at this promise. His curiosity began to override initial wariness. "Where are you with that?"
Fury turned to Coulson, gesturing for him to explain. Meanwhile, Natasha drifted to a nearby computer screen. She remained neutral outwardly, but focused intently on an image of Clint Barton displayed there, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. Logan caught the subtle shift in her scent when she spotted Barton's image; a spike of concern, but he kept this observation to himself.
Around them, agents called out readings and coordinates. Through massive windows, clouds drifted past at eye level, occasional breaks revealing glimpses of the ocean far below. Steve stood at parade rest, his military bearing contrasting with Banner's nervous energy and Logan's relaxed yet alert demeanor.
Coulson appeared with a tablet in hand. His screen displayed a cascade of live video feeds from around the world, each frame searching for signs of Loki or their missing agents. "We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet. Cellphones, laptops. If it's connected to a satellite, it's our eyes and ears."
"Call every lab you know, tell them to put spectrometers on the roof, and calibrate them for gamma rays," Bruce suggested. "I'll rough out a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places. Do you have somewhere for me to work?"
Fury nodded to Natasha. "Agent Romanoff, would you show Dr. Banner to his laboratory, please."
"You're gonna love it, Doc. We got all the toys," she said, leading Banner toward the corridor.
Coulson continued overseeing agents monitoring the global surveillance feed. Hill stood at her station, occasionally calling out course corrections and system status updates, but also glancing at Fury and Coulson. Through it all, the underlying current of urgency remained palpable. Every person on the bridge understood the stakes and the threat posed by a stolen artifact of immense power. Hours passed on the Helicarrier bridge with little progress. The constant hum of the engines and murmured conversations created a steady background drone as agents monitored screens for any sign of Loki.
Phil Coulson stood next to Steve Rogers; his normally composed demeanor cracked slightly, revealing the excited fan beneath the professional exterior. Logan lounged against a nearby console, pretending not to listen.
"I mean, if it's not too much trouble," Coulson said.
"No, no. It's fine."
"It's a vintage set. It took me a couple of years to collect them all. Near mint, slight foxing around the edges, but..."
The conversation halted as Agent Jasper Sitwell announced, "We got a hit." His fingers flew across his keyboard. "Sixty-seven percent match. Crossmatch, seventy-nine percent."
Coulson immediately shifted back to professional mode, moving toward Sitwell's station. "Location?"
The screen displayed a street view of an elegant European building. "Stuttgart, Germany. 28, Konigstrasse. He's not exactly hiding."
"Captain, Logan, you're up. Natasha's on transport." Nick Fury ordered.
Steve gave a sharp nod. Logan pushed away from the console, falling into step beside him as they headed for the exit.
Coulson watched Steve's departure with barely concealed disappointment at their interrupted conversation about trading cards. But his primary concern was Director Fury. The Director made no uncharacteristic calls or inappropriate orders. He was beginning to doubt that the man was compromised. Yet he would remain vigilant, knowing Hill and Natasha would do the same.
Fury stood at his command station, his single eye tracking multiple screens simultaneously. The tactical display showed the projected flight path to Stuttgart, while other monitors continued scanning for additional threats.
An agent led Steve and Logan through Helicarrier corridors to a locker room. A steel cabinet stood against the far wall, doors already open. Inside hung the updated Captain America uniform. It was a perfect blend of modern tactical gear and nostalgic design elements, and the iconic shield rested below.
Steve approached slowly. His fingers traced the reinforced fabric, feeling the difference from his old World War II gear. The familiar red, white, and blue remained, but the materials spoke of modern innovation.
Logan leaned against a nearby locker, arms crossed. "Gonna try it on, bub?"
Steve's hand dropped from the uniform. "What about you, Jimmy? They got a black leather uniform or anything in your locker?"
Logan snorted. "Don't need a costume." He straightened, rolling his shoulders. "What you see is what you get. Been wearing the same thing as long as I can remember."
Steve studied Logan's worn leather jacket and faded jeans. The casual attire seemed at odds with the high-tech environment, yet somehow suited the gruff mutant perfectly.
"Besides," Logan added, pulling a cigar from his pocket and turning it between his fingers without lighting it, "uniforms just get torn up when the claws come out." He demonstrated, letting the adamantium claws slide out with their characteristic snikt before retracting them.
"At least your helmet doesn't have wings on the side anymore," Logan commented. "Those things looked ridiculous in the old newsreels."
"They served a purpose," Steve defended. "Radio antenna."
"Sure they were, bub. Sure, they were."
Overhead speakers crackled with Natasha's voice. "Quinjet's prepped and ready when you are, boys."
Once Steve was dressed, the SHIELD agent led them through the vessel. Through occasional windows, the sun continued westward, growing closer to the horizon. They likely wouldn't reach Germany before sundown. As the aircraft came into sight, they heard Natasha running through pre-flight checks. Deck crews scrambled to prepare for immediate departure.
When she saw them, she said, "Nice uniform." But to Logan, she asked, "Are you planning to fight dressed like a cowboy?"
Logan shot back, "Great. You don't just smell like the kid. You've got his sense of humor, too."
Back on the bridge, Sitwell continued monitoring Loki's location, updating the tactical display with new information. Everyone seemed on edge, awaiting the team's departure and Mirage's return. Sitwell included... but for different reasons than the others.
— Rogue Redemption —
In an underground facility, Dr. Erik Selvig's hands moved over complex machinery surrounding the Tesseract. Loki reclined on nearby stairs, tracking his progress. Clint Barton approached with a tablet in hand, his usually sharp gaze clouded with an unnatural blue tinge, matching the other enthralled servants.
"Put it over there!" Selvig called out to a passing soldier before turning to Clint. "Where did you find all these people?"
"SHIELD has no shortage of enemies, Doctor." Clint held up the tablet, displaying detailed information about a metallic element. "Is this the stuff you need?"
"Yeah, Iridium. It's found in meteorites, and it forms anti-protons. It's very hard to get hold of."
"Especially if SHIELD knows you need it," Clint remarked dryly.
"Well, I didn't know!" Selvig's face brightened as Loki approached, greeting him with devoted enthusiasm. "Hey! The Tesseract is showing me so much. It's more than just knowledge. It's... truth."
Loki's voice carried a silken quality. "I know." His attention shifted to Barton. "What did it show you, Agent Barton?"
"My next target."
"Tell me what you need."
"I'll need a distraction. And an eyeball."
From her position against a nearby wall, Angela's voice cut through the conversation, heavy with boredom. "Why the eyeball?"
"The vault requires specific biometric data. An authorized retinal scan would grant us access to the secure storage area." Clint moved across the screen, highlighting various security checkpoints.
Angela pushed away from the wall where she'd been lounging. Her lips curled into a dismissive sneer. "No vault on Midgard can hold me back."
Clint shifted to Loki, seeking direction, ready to follow whatever command would come.
Loki considered both options, fingers trailing along the scepter as he weighed merits. "Very well, you go," he conceded to Angela. "I'll provide the distraction."
Angela's warrior spirit bristled at the unnecessary subterfuge. "Always with the games, Loki. Why not simply take what we want by force?"
"You haven't spent enough time among these mortals. They can be... surprisingly resourceful. There are those who could pose a genuine threat to our plans. I'd prefer not to draw the attention of my fath... Odin. Even some of their enhanced humans show potential."
Angela bristled at what seemed like praise for lesser beings, but held her tongue as Loki continued.
"There is one among them who... Better they remain distracted while we secure what we need. We must move with cunning rather than brute force. Let them chase phantoms while we gather the pieces we need."
Clint nodded. Even under the scepter's influence, he could explain their strategy. "SHIELD's response protocols are predictable. They'll mobilize their powered assets, trying to match force with force. Director Fury will send the lesser enhanced first so that they might be picked off before facing the bigger challenges."
Angela's pride still struggled with the concept of subterfuge. "You suggest we hide from them? Like common thieves?"
"I suggest we win," Loki countered smoothly. "Raw power isn't everything. Sometimes, the deadliest blade is the one you never see coming."
"Besides," he added, mischief entering his tone, "isn't it more satisfying to watch them scramble? To see their faces when they realize how thoroughly they've been outmaneuvered?" He chose words to appeal to Angela's pride.
She had never needed subterfuge before. Her sword and skill had always proven sufficient. "Your silver tongue serves you well," she said. "But do not mistake my agreement for approval. I fight with honor, not in the shadows."
The cold underground facility felt confining to one used to Heven's open spaces. The scent of metal and concrete offended her senses, so different from the pure air of higher realms. Still, she had aligned with the Titan and Loki in this venture, and Angels honored their commitments. She swept her gaze over the mind-controlled humans, noting their vacant expressions with distaste. Such methods seemed beneath a true warrior, yet she understood the necessity of pawns in this game.
"Very well. I will retrieve what we need. But know this. If any prove worthy of combat, I will not deny them a warrior's death." Angela's code would bend only so far, even in service of their shared goals.
Loki remained carefully neutral, but he noted that his plans might need adjustment. The tension between Angela's straightforward warrior nature and his own preference for manipulation was a delicate balance to maintain.
"Just remember," she added, "when the time comes for real battle, I expect to be at the forefront. I am no shadow-dancer to strike from darkness and flee." Even under Loki's control, several nearby soldiers subtly created more distance between themselves and the warrior.
"These mortals you speak of," Angela said, genuine curiosity beneath her martial edge, "the ones you claim could pose a threat. I look forward to testing their mettle personally. Perhaps there are some among them worthy of song, after all."
Dr. Samuel Sterns moved around the scepter that lay on the examination table. He had been working in relative isolation since his arrival, preferring the company of his thoughts to that of the vacant-eyed soldiers. His fingers hovered just above the scepter's surface, measuring the energy field without touching it. He had rigged several makeshift sensors around the artifact, each feeding data to a cobbled-together computer system.
"Fascinating," he murmured to himself. "It's as if it's capable of creating a direct conduit to the subject's frontal lobe and amygdala simultaneously."
Soft footsteps approached from behind, but Sterns was too engrossed to notice.
"What are you doing?" Loki's voice cut through his concentration like ice water.
Sterns startled slightly but recovered quickly, turning to face the Asgardian with a smile that revealed too many teeth. "Ah, our benefactor arrives. I was just conducting some preliminary analyses of your fascinating device."
Loki studied both scientist and scepter. "I don't recall authorizing such examination."
"Science waits for no authorization," Sterns replied. "Besides, I believe I can recreate the effect of this scepter in a limited fashion."
This caught Loki's attention. His expression shifted from suspicion to intrigue. "How so?"
Sterns gestured to data scrolling across his makeshift monitor. "The scepter operates on principles that bridge quantum mechanics and neurological manipulation. It's elegant, really. The energy signature suggests it's not merely affecting the brain but creating a quantum entanglement between the subject's consciousness and an external source, presumably your will."
He tapped a few keys, bringing up a rudimentary schematic. "It reminds me of a device I considered briefly during my captivity, after a discussion with one of my captors, who had found a way to use magnetism to enhance his psionic abilities in a minor way, and protect his mind from intrusion using a similar process. I believe I can make a psionic enhancer that could control a single individual. Not as sophisticated as your scepter, of course, but effective nonetheless."
"And what would you do with such a device?"
"I'll begin working on designs immediately. I could use this to control the Hulk."
"The Hulk?" he inquired, though his tone suggested familiarity with the entity.
"Banner's alter ego," Sterns explained. "I've studied him extensively. With my intellect guiding his raw power, we'd be unstoppable."
Loki considered this. "And you believe you can control this creature? When Banner himself cannot?"
"Banner fears the Hulk. I understand the Hulk's potential. With the right neural interface, based on your scepter's principles, I could establish a direct link to the Hulk's consciousness while bypassing and suppressing Banner."
Sterns turned back to his computer and began working on preliminary designs. "The psionic enhancer would need to operate at a specific frequency to penetrate the Hulk's unique brainwave patterns. Nothing we couldn't manage with the right resources."
Loki observed the scientist with a calculating stare. Sterns' ambition was evident, his intellect impressive even by Asgardian standards. Yet there was something unstable in his enthusiasm, a dangerous edge that could either prove useful or problematic.
"And what would you do, Dr. Sterns, once you had the Hulk under your control?"
"Think of it as insurance," Sterns replied, not looking up from his work. "SHIELD has resources we haven't accounted for. If they assemble a response team, as we expect they will, having the Hulk under our control would provide a significant advantage. Nothing they could field would match his raw power, especially with my intellect directing it."