[A/N]: This one's a big chapter, folks. We're heading back into the Power Broker side of business, except this time, Jay's got a new hunger for powers, and the seeds of the next arc are starting to take root.
The evening sun cast long shadows across the cracked asphalt of Inglewood as Jay pulled into the parking lot of Randy's Donuts, the New York Branch. That iconic concrete donut perched on the roof looked exactly like it did in the movies. Absurd and somehow perfect for the conversation he was about to have. In another timeline, Tony Stark would nurse his hangover here after that disastrous birthday party. But that was then. This was now.
"Nick really does have a taste for the dramatic," Jay muttered, checking his reflection in the rearview mirror. The face staring back at him looked older somehow. The weight of Doom's revelation still sat heavy on his shoulders.
The bell above the door chimed as he entered. Fresh-fried dough and cheap coffee hit him like a wave.
First, he saw the back booth. But it wasn't just Fury and Coulson waiting for him.
Steve Rogers sat across from them, his broad shoulders hunched over a steaming cup of black coffee. Captain America himself. The man who'd been frozen for seventy years, thrust into a world he barely recognized, and somehow still managed to embody everything decent about the American dream.
"Well, this is unexpected," Jay said, sliding into the booth with practiced ease. He kept his voice light, but his newly enhanced senses were already cataloging everything. Fury's elevated heart rate. The way Coulson's fingers drummed against the table. Steve's rigid posture that screamed readiness to move and intercept. "Captain America at a donut shop. Very wholesome."
Fury's single eye fixed on him. The man's jaw was clenched so tight Jay wondered if his teeth might crack, and those telltale veins at his temples were already starting to throb. Classic Fury. About to explode but holding it back through sheer force of will.
Before anyone could launch into what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation, Jay held up a hand and caught the attention of the teenage waitress behind the counter. She had that bored expression unique to minimum-wage workers everywhere, pink hair, and cute cat nail art.
"Excuse me, miss, can we have everything on the menu?" he told her with a smile.
She blinked, her gum-chewing momentarily pausing. "Everything? Like... everything everything?"
"Every single item. Glazed, chocolate, bear claws, apple fritters. The works. Oh, and coffee. Lots of coffee." Jay glanced at his tablemates, none of whom seemed inclined to order.
The girl shrugged and wandered off, probably thinking she'd just encountered another eccentric with more money than sense. In New York, that was practically a daily occurrence.
Fury's patience finally snapped. "Are you done..."
"I can't negotiate on an empty stomach," Jay cut him off smoothly, getting comfortable in the booth. "And judging by those throbbing head veins of yours, this conversation's gonna need serious carbs to survive."
The table fell into tense quiet. Outside, traffic hummed, completely unaware that decisions affecting countless lives were about to be made over donuts and coffee. The normalcy of it was almost surreal.
Steve cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice carried that earnest quality that made you want to believe in truth, justice, and the American way all over again. "I haven't properly thanked you yet. For bringing me back. For giving them the information about my location and for... for defrosting me." He paused, looking down at his coffee cup. "So, thank you."
Jay studied the man across from him. After all the drama at the Baxter Building, he'd almost missed the guy. The living legend who'd sacrificed everything to save the world, only to wake up in a future he didn't recognize. There was genuine gratitude in those blue eyes, but also bone-deep loneliness that came from being a man out of time.
"It was a business deal," Jay said around a bite of glazed donut, his tone deliberately casual. "I already got my payment."
That did it.
"Yeah!" Fury exploded, his composure finally cracking like a dam under pressure. "And you used it to juice yourself up!"
"So what?" Jay's response was immediate and unapologetic.
The question seemed to catch Fury off guard. For a moment, the Director of SHIELD looked speechless. Then his expression shifted, becoming very still, very calm. Which was infinitely more terrifying than his yelling.
"You were perfect, you know that?" Fury's voice dropped to barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of disappointment and barely contained rage. "Perfect focal point for the world's attention, both as the Doctor and as Power Broker. Let us prop up the Avengers Initiative based on the positive image you created for mutants and enhanced. One interview, and suddenly people were talking about coexistence instead of containment and elimination."
Jay raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious despite the obvious trap being laid. "Past tense?"
"Now that Doom's revealed your secret identity, we'll have to delay the Initiative indefinitely." Fury's words hit like physical blows. "Can't exactly use a glutton kid with control issues as our poster child for responsible superhuman activity."
The accusation stung more than Jay wanted to admit, but he forced himself to remain calm. Set down his coffee with deliberate care. "Wait." His voice carried genuine surprise. "You knew about my Power Broker identity?"
Coulson tried to hide his laugh behind his napkin, but Jay caught it anyway. Even Steve looked like he was fighting a smile, which somehow made the whole situation even more surreal.
Fury's smirk was pure predator. "Kid, I've been in this game since before you were born. After our little confrontation in the Morlock tunnels, we launched a comprehensive investigation. However smart you think you are, there's exactly one type of DNA sample that can't be analyzed."
The pieces clicked together in Jay's mind with sickening clarity. "When did you..."
"Hair from the hellfire club. Skin cells from every surface you touched. Dandruff from the Morlock tunnels." Fury leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conversational whisper that somehow felt more threatening than shouting. "Every single sample came back with the same result: 'Unable to process.' No matter the tech, no matter the lab. Same result we get from exactly one other person in our files."
Jay stared across the table, caught completely off guard. It felt like realizing you'd been playing checkers while your opponent was three moves ahead in chess.
"How long have you known?" The question came out more vulnerable than he'd intended.
"Three weeks, two days, approximately sixteen hours," Coulson said with that pleasant, almost parental tone that somehow made everything worse. "Give or take."
"If you knew, why didn't you confront me sooner?"
Coulson's expression shifted, becoming genuinely paternal. "We believed in giving you space to make your own choices. Sometimes people need room to grow, to find their own path to doing the right thing." He paused, stirring his coffee with methodical precision. "We only intervene when someone makes a mistake that could hurt innocent people. Like now."
Jay started laughing. The sheer audacity of being outplayed hit him all at once. "Oh, that's beautiful, Coulson. Only you could make preparing for blackmail and extortion sound like a counseling session."
"Alright," Fury said, breaking the moment. "Let's stop dancing around this and get down to business. Here's the deal: Full SHIELD protection for you, your people, and every single Morlock down in those tunnels. We're talking complete resource allocation here. Safe houses, new identities if anyone needs them, the whole package."
Jay's stomach tightened, even though he'd been expecting this moment. "In exchange for?"
"You join SHIELD as a full-time operative. Public surrender, complete with media appearances and a carefully orchestrated comeback story. We spin your image from some villain who attacked that elite club with a sewer monster into a reformed asset working for the good guys." Fury leaned forward, his voice dropping to that tone that made seasoned agents sweat. "But here's the real issue. Your intel. How do you know what you know? Where's it coming from? Because right now, you're either the luckiest guesser on the planet or you've got access to information that should be impossible to get."
He tapped the table with one finger. "That's what I need to understand. Not your powers, not your sob story. I need to know who's talking to you and how deep this goes."
The questions were serious, but Jay found himself laughing. This time, it was genuine amusement. He laughed until his sides ached. Because how could he possibly explain that they were all comic book characters? That Fury was supposed to be white until Samuel L. Jackson made the role iconic? That Coulson first appeared in Tony Stark's movie and wasn't even supposed to be a major character?
When he finally calmed down, wiping a tear from his eyes, he found three very concerned faces staring back at him.
"Hell no." His voice was certain now. "I've spent my entire life under someone else's thumb. Now I'm finally free. I'm not about to hit reverse and undo all the progress I've made."
Fury's voice went deadly quiet, carrying the kind of menace that had made him legendary in intelligence circles. "Then the deal's off. And whatever happens to your inner circle and Morlocks, that's on you."
Jay studied Fury's face, reading the micro-expressions that most people would miss. The slight tightening around his eye that suggested uncertainty. The way his shoulders tensed. A man bluffing, at least partially.
"Is that a real threat?" Jay asked, his voice staying level even as his eyes began to emit that soft blue glow.
Fury tensed. His poker face cracked for just a second as he processed the implications of Jay's words and the still-unknown extent of his capabilities. After a heartbeat, he backed down slightly.
"I'm just saying, without getting anything substantial in return, SHIELD can't justify allocating resources to protect your people."
Jay's smile was sharp now. "Fair enough. But what if I could give you something you'd kill to get your hands on? Information that would reshape everything you think you know about your own agency?"
Coulson's face went pale. Something like recognition flickered in his eyes.
"What?" All three asked in unison, leaning forward with sudden, intense focus.
Jay pushed back from the table, his expression serious for the first time since entering the shop. "Not here. Too many ears, too many people." He gestured toward the window. "My car."
Ten minutes later, they were crammed into Jay's sedan. A replacement vehicle he'd borrowed from Bobby after his beloved Datsun 240Z had been totaled during the Abomination incident. The car still smelled like Bobby's cologne and the lingering traces of whatever lady he'd been trying to impress that week.
Jay used his enhanced danger sense to sweep the interior for surveillance devices, electromagnetic signatures, anything that might compromise what he was about to reveal. Finding nothing beyond the usual electronic noise of a modern vehicle, he exhaled slowly.
"What I'm about to tell you stays between the four people in this car," he began, his voice carrying a weight that made even Fury sit up straighter. "If it absolutely must be shared, then only Natasha, Clint, and Maria Hill get to hear it. No one else. Not the World Security Council, not even the President himself."
Fury crossed his arms, his patience wearing thin. "It better be worth all this cloak-and-dagger nonsense."
"First, my conditions." Jay held up one finger. "Passive protection for my inner circle and the Morlocks. Not full resource allocation. I'm not asking you to babysit them. Just... keep an eye out. Make sure they don't disappear in the middle of the night."
Jay held up a second finger. "Second condition: Legal and political protection for the community I'm establishing. A place where mutants and humans can coexist openly, without fear or prejudice."
"What community?" Fury's tone was skeptical, but there was interest there, too.
Jay's expression softened. "District X. An above-ground sanctuary for the Morlocks and any other mutants who want a chance at normal life. Just... living and not hiding in sewers."
Fury's temples started pulsing again, those veins standing out like road maps of frustration. "Where's the funding gonna come from? The political influence needed to make something like that happen? We can provide protection, but SHIELD isn't authorized to interfere in domestic policy..."
"Don't worry about the money. Emma's fund will handle the financial side." Jay's confidence was unshakeable. "As for political influence, leave that to me."
He held up a third finger. "Third condition: I need you to actively promote the narrative that I've severed all connections with the Morlocks. That they were led astray by my influence, that Doom's propaganda about mutant superiority was lies and manipulation."
Fury nodded slowly. Propaganda and narrative control were SHIELD's bread and butter. They'd been shaping public opinion since the Cold War.
"And lastly," Jay held up his fourth finger, "I need access to the Fridge. Specifically, to a certain prisoner being held there."
Coulson immediately shook his head, his expression turning protective. "Given the nature of your abilities... your capacity to absorb and replicate powers... we absolutely cannot allow you unsupervised contact with high-security detainees."
Fury studied Jay with the intensity of a hawk sizing up its prey. "You're asking for an awful lot here, kid. What could possibly be important enough that we'd agree to all of this?"
Jay's smile made Coulson's blood run cold. It was the same expression from their first meeting.
"Tell me, gentlemen," Jay said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "What do you really know about Hydra?"
The reaction was instant. Fury's eye widened like he'd been slapped. Steve's entire body went rigid, every muscle tensing like he was preparing for battle. Coulson made a small, strangled sound.
"And while you're processing that," Jay continued, turning to focus on Coulson specifically, "perhaps you could explain to us the historical significance of one James Buchanan Barnes? You know... Bucky? Steve's best friend, who supposedly died falling from a train in the Alps?"
The color drained from Coulson's face as the pieces fell into place. The déjà vu was crystal clear now, and he knew exactly what discovery it had led to as he saw Steve's stunned expression.
The car fell silent. Outside, New York continued its relentless pace, oblivious to the bombshell that had just been dropped.
Jay leaned back in his seat and waited for the rest to process the importance of what he was about to reveal.
[A/N]: I write across multiple fandoms. Support my writing and get early access to 30+ chapters, exclusive content, and bonus material at my P@treon - Max_Striker.