[A/N]: The Third goal for this week is 600 PowerStones. Comment, vote, and share if you're enjoying the chapter.
SHIELD Safehouse - Command Center
Director Fury stood at the command console with multiple screens flickering in front of him, his single eye tracking each feed simultaneously and cataloging information with the precision of a master strategist. And despite his stoic face and the no-nonsense attitude he maintained like armor, a rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
But something was wrong.
The mission was going well, too well, and in Fury's experience when an operation ran this clean it meant someone else was controlling the board.
On one screen Clint and Natasha's team had Pierce pinned in his office where the former SHIELD director, architect of HYDRA's infiltration, was being beaten efficiently while maintaining just enough control to keep him conscious for interrogation. Sitwell was already in cuffs, babbling about the algorithm and Project Insight.
Natasha handled Rumlow and his STRIKE team with skills that made combat look like art as she moved between them like water, redirecting force and using their momentum against them. Rumlow's face was bloody and his tactical vest torn. The cocky mercenary wasn't so cocky anymore.
And finally their team had rounded up the rest of the HYDRA members with the help of loyal SHIELD operatives.
Clean, efficient and textbook, too textbook.
Another screen showed the White House in chaos where one by one major politicians were being dragged from their offices in handcuffs, and for once both parties were united, scrambling to maintain their political dignity. But Coulson's paperwork was too solid to ignore, backed by evidence that would hold up in any court. May handled anyone who tried to show physical force with her expression never changing as she put down resistance with clinical efficiency.
Siberia had been different with a hitch, as their sensors caught Wolverine teleporting in, which should have been impossible given the base's shielding, but nothing that animal couldn't handle.
What was surprising was the five other Winter Soldiers waiting in their cryo pods, awakened by emergency protocols, and they'd tried to neutralize Wolverine with super soldier enhancements and brutal training, but even with all that, they weren't a match for Wolverine's adamantium claws that cut through their flesh like a butcher through meat.
What caught Wolverine off guard was Bucky Barnes, the original Winter Soldier, with his titanium alloy arm that blocked Wolverine's adamantium claws, where the metal arm barely deflected them, creating sparks that lit up the facility.
Director Fury watched Logan fight carefully while pulling his punches as the man remembered the kid he'd called friend alongside Steve Rogers in World War II, and seeing that bright-eyed soldier reduced to a mindless tool, watching Bucky's empty eyes as he executed killing strikes with mechanical precision, it clearly hurt. Even through the feed, you could see it hurt.
The fight lasted over an hour, brutal and exhausting, with Logan taking multiple lethal strikes that his healing factor barely handled while Bucky moved with programmed efficiency, not a wasted motion, every attack designed to kill.
Finally, Logan tore off Bucky's metal arm at the clamp junction with a visceral wrench of metal and hydraulics rupturing, then he used that same arm as a club, hitting Bucky's head hard enough to knock the Winter Soldier unconscious without causing permanent damage.
Logan stood over his friend's body, breathing hard and bleeding from a dozen wounds, and his voice came through the comm, rough and exhausted. "Got him, Fury. Now I just gotta get Chuck to fix his head, bring back the sunny bastard I remember."
As for Cap and Hill, the Helicarrier had been a near disaster.
The moment Steve mentioned traitors, HYDRA showed its fangs as a hailstorm of bullets fired across the command bridge, and Steve took them down with his shield, ricocheting rounds back at their shooters, but the damage to the air bridge's systems was extensive. Sparks flew from consoles. Screens went dark, and warning klaxons blared.
The Helicarrier began to plummet.
Steve's voice came through, tense but controlled. "Fury, we need backup. Now!"
Before Director Fury could respond, Davis Cameron - Slipstream- appeared on the bridge with Domino beside him, and the young Australian looked strained from all the teleporting he'd been doing with sweat beading on his forehead, but Domino looked fresh, ready, and actually enjoying herself.
Director Fury had thought this was too much for her and almost called for Jay directly, but before he could say a word, Domino moved.
Crimson strings manifested from her fingers, not the luck Fury had expected from probability manipulation but something else entirely, and the strings extended toward the damaged console, wrapping around burnt circuits and shattered systems.
In an instant, everything was fixed.
Not repaired or patched together but fixed as if the damage had never happened, like time itself rewound, and systems came back online while screens flickered to life and the Helicarrier's descent halted with engines roaring back to full power.
Everyone on the bridge stared as Hill's mouth was open, and Steve looked between Domino and the console with his mind trying to process what he'd just witnessed. Even Director Fury felt his eye widen slightly.
That's when he remembered Jay's words about the upgrades she'd had, and a mercenary who worked for the highest bidder now had the ability to rewrite reality.
A pang of regret flashed through him as he thought, if only Natasha could have made Jay fall for her, an agent of his with powers like that would bring benefits beyond anything SHIELD had access to.
Domino's eyes impossibly caught Fury's expression through the camera feed, and she grinned, amused. "What? You thought Lady Luck only worked with dice? Surprise, one-eye."
Steve cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "Thank you. That would have been catastrophic."
"No worries, Cap. You boys have fun cleaning house. I'll keep this bucket in the air."
And she did as for the next two hours while the operation continued, Domino restored any damage to the Helicarrier where a support strut buckled from explosive decompression got fixed, the navigation system fried by a HYDRA agent's last act of sabotage got restored, and she moved through the ship like a guardian angel with crimson strings trailing behind her, undoing destruction with casual ease like she was erasing mistakes on a chalkboard.
But Director Fury noticed something, as each time she used the power, her movements slowed just fractionally while her grin became more forced, and she was burning through something, energy or will or maybe life force, because the power had limits as everything did, but she pushed through with mercenary toughness, overriding exhaustion.
The Cameron siblings were just as impressive as Davis teleported backup to hot zones, evacuated injured agents, and moved supplies where they were needed, and his face showed the strain but the kid kept going, proving himself.
Heather, Lifeguard, operated from the air with her golden wings, carrying her at supersonic speeds between locations, and she disabled the Helicarrier's heavy weapons systems with brute force, ripping gun turrets from their mounts so HYDRA couldn't use them to make the citizens as hostage, saved agents from falling debris, and pulled wounded operatives from collapsed sections.
They were damn good with raw talent being forged in fire.
Similar strikes were happening worldwide with specific teams handling operations with brutal efficiency, careful not to cause major international incidents or trigger wars, not to expose SHIELD's hand too openly.
As the situation approached its conclusion, Director Fury allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as they'd done it, cut the head off HYDRA and exposed them, arrested their leadership, and it would take weeks, maybe months, to root out every last operative across the globe, but the organisatio would never recover from this blow.
But that feeling wouldn't leave, that sense of being watched, of pieces moving on a board he couldn't see.
Something was wrong, and he just didn't know what?
Then Trinary screamed.
The sound came through the comm from Xavier's School, high and agonized, as the young technopath who'd been safely situated at the mansion monitoring systems and keeping Zola's digital ghost from interfering suddenly convulsed, her voice cutting off with a wet choking sound of bloodied coughs.
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