"Dude, just beer?" Rumlow held a can, eyeing Steve.
The table overflowed with barbecue—ribs, legs, no organs, per local tastes.
"Not bad," Matt said, chomping a smoked rib. American barbecue leaned on sauces, not fire mastery. This street joint wasn't fancy—Steve's wallet couldn't handle upscale.
"Can we bring our own booze?" Jessica poked her meat, unimpressed by local beer. She preferred hard liquor.
"Realized what I missed on the mountain," Luke mumbled, mouth stuffed, body swaying with Black flair, far from his usual calm.
"Why's the mountain all black bread? Not everyone loves that texture," Rumlow said, gulping beer.
"Who knows? Every time I hit Bul-Kathos's forge, it's black bread. That milk, though—haven't seen it elsewhere," Jessica said, pulling a five-liter jug of Orak's liquor from her pack. Even she couldn't down it in one go.
"Which ancestor's stash?" Rumlow sniffed the aroma, shoving meat in his mouth and grabbing the jug.
Jessica snatched it back, poured everyone a pint, and shook the jug to check its stock. "Banar's. To Orak's heir." She stashed it, raising her glass. "To Harrogath! To Bul-Kathos! Cheers!"
"To Harrogath! To Bul-Kathos! Cheers!" ×4. Steve joined in.
The liquor's fiery burn hit Steve hard. He'd had strong drinks, but this felt like his whole body was aflame.
"Rougher than Maddock's stash," Luke exhaled.
"Maddock's 'stash'? He drank it all before dying. Most of his 'collection' was swiped from other ancestors," Rumlow said, savoring the taste.
"Luke drank Bul-Kathos's early brew. Later, he improved it and gifted the old stock to the ancestors," Matt said, setting down his glass, courtesy of Leiko's gossip.
Steve smiled, unable to join mountain talk. Despite looking their age, his fifty-year slumber made him ancient, though his mindset stayed young.
"You're different. I saw Orak's past," Jessica said, gulping her drink with a drunkard's flair. As Orak's chosen heir, she didn't need to piece together her guide's history.
"Orak was wild—slashing demons with reckless abandon. Damn cool," she added.
Luke pouted. "Everyone else saw Bul-Kathos's battles, right? Except you."
Matt stuffed more meat in his mouth. "What does Bul-Kathos's heir see? Same battle highlights?"
"Who knows? Probably different," Luke slurred, tongue numb from a big swig.
"No use to us," Jessica said, eyeing Steve's awkwardness. "Speaking of, Captain America's alive. Wild."
"Surprised me too," Nick Fury said, pushing open the door and sitting beside Steve.
Rumlow's glare dripped disdain.
"Who's this?" Jessica sipped, the room thick with liquor's scent.
"Nick Fury, SHIELD's director. Ruthless. Would kill a hero like me for 'stability,'" Rumlow said, downing his drink.
"You're the one Bul-Kathos punished? Impressive," Matt said, chewing.
Fury was once a big deal to them, not anymore.
"SHIELD's not as bad as Rumlow says. His goals are solid," Steve said, shooting Fury a sour look.
"Good intentions justify dirty deeds? Purple Man's body's still in SHIELD's lab," Rumlow sneered. Without Purple Man's powers, Bucky would've blown Fury's head off.
Bang! Jessica slammed her glass down. Purple Man wasn't her nightmare anymore, but he still sparked rage. "You didn't destroy him? You're studying him?"
Her axe appeared. No one knew her past, though Fury might've known fragments, having ordered Purple Man's investigation.
"Jessica?" Luke stood, glaring at Fury. He didn't know why she snapped, but barbarians didn't rage without cause. His fondness for her fueled his stance.
"Sounds like Purple Man's bad news. Trouble," Matt said, draining his drink. His mace and axe materialized. Rumlow's hammers appeared at his feet.
"Dangerous research, Fury," Rumlow said, staying seated, his tone laced with contempt.
Steve sipped quietly. He disliked Fury's methods but couldn't openly oppose him. Fury's stand-ins were disposable anyway.
"Research to cut agent casualties. Useful for peace," Fury said, grabbing a rib, unfazed.
"Who's to say you won't use it for sick shit? Who guarantees that?" Jessica's hair stirred, rage brimming.
"No one. Not me, not Steve," Fury said, meeting her eyes before eating. "Like no one guarantees Bul-Kathos won't go on a rampage. Power's like that. SHIELD gathers strength, sacrifices for peace."
"Enough, Director! Stop the sob story. We—Steve, me—pay the price while you 'keep peace,'" Rumlow said, toying with a rib. "This meat—who says it's safe? That I won't eat it?"
"I make sure the 'meat' gets time, so Earth-eaters pay," Fury said, splashing Steve's beer on the rib. "Now it's less appetizing."
"I like it like this," Rumlow said, eating the soaked meat. "I haven't lit the fire yet, and I can't buy time to spark it."
Fury eyed Rumlow, ignoring Jessica. "So, you want us to buy that time, even if it means sacrifice?" Matt asked, hearing Fury's steady heartbeat—sincere, at least.
"Screw sacrifice! Destroy Purple Man's body!" Jessica leaned in, glaring at Fury's one eye.
Luke blocked the door, a move from his schoolyard brawls.
"Help me buy time, and I'll destroy his body," Fury said. He knew Steve's Avengers plan and wanted in, hijacking it in a few words.
"No way we're your pawns," Rumlow said, hand on his hammer, ready to smash Fury's decoy.
"That's my goal too. I won't take Fury's orders, but we need logistics," Steve said.
"Cap?" Matt blinked, surprised.
"Rumlow, ex-Hydra, SHIELD fighter, now superhuman. Know how to atone?" Fury ignored the hammer's threat. "Luke Cage, street hero. Decent, but reckless. Know how to minimize civilian impact? Matt Murdock—Daredevil. Know Fisk's empire's full scope? You're just a fly buzzing blindly."
Fury faced Jessica. "Jessica Jones, I'm sorry. We fight super-crime but missed you, a victim under our nose. To stop others suffering like you, join SHIELD."
His shaky, injured stance softened their hostility.
"I don't need it," Jessica spat, sitting back, chugging Orak's liquor.
"That's your rebirth wine. Save it. I've got cash—let's hit a bar," Luke said, taking the jug. His tone showed he was swayed.
"What can you offer? SHIELD's help?" Matt asked calmly, hands on the table.
"He can. I don't like him, but he can," Steve said, eyeing Rumlow.
"I won't follow SHIELD," Rumlow said firmly.
"Then I'll lead. You can trust me," Steve stood. "I planned to form a team to tackle threats. No hesitation now. We'll filter SHIELD's intel, not act blindly. I promise."
"Steve, is the history's Captain America the real you?" Matt asked coldly, his legal mind skeptical.
"Time will prove it," Steve said.
The lively dinner turned tense.
"We need time. Can't decide now," Rumlow said, grabbing his hammers and leaving. "Hope my apartment's clean of bugs," he called, threatening Fury.
"Jessica, let's drink. Two drown sorrows faster," Luke said.
"Let's go, Luke. This ain't the dinner we planned," Jessica said, stashing her jug.
"Not counted, but I'd love seven dinners a week with you," Luke teased, earning a punch.
Fury faced Matt. "I doubt an organization ignoring those creeps is as noble as you claim. I'll verify," Matt said, grabbing his coat and leaving.
Steve and Fury remained. "Nick, I'm a soldier, not a fool," Steve said, angry. Fury was eyeing his unformed team.
"They'd think it eventually. Better address it now," Fury said, eating. "Your team, SHIELD's logistics."
"He matters to you?" Ancient One asked, sitting on a bench by a cliff, Vishanti gone.
Bul-Kathos sat cross-legged nearby, watching Rorschach train. "Yes, but I don't recall why. I just need a strong, resolute heir," he said, swigging liquor.
"You're never affected by alcohol? You're always drinking," Ancient One said, sipping sparkling water.
"Alcohol? Doesn't touch us. We crave stronger stuff," Bul-Kathos said, eyes flickering at Rorschach.
"When's Odin's meeting?" she asked. Odin, awed by Bul-Kathos, let him set the time.
"Tomorrow. Just a meeting, won't take long," he said calmly.
"Little girl, when can I meet Vishanti? Or bring them to me?" Volusk appeared, addressing Ancient One. At nearly two millennia old, he could call her that.
"You again, Volusk? Remember you're dead?" Bul-Kathos said, annoyed by the greedy Immortal King.
"I exist, unlike…" Volusk trailed off.
"I'll ask Oshtur. She might want to see Earth," Ancient One smiled.
"Good. What about your apprentice, the little mage?" Volusk meant Cassius, who'd faced Kanuk's trial once.
"Cassius? Maybe he'll ditch magic for justice. My students lack talent—my teaching's not great," she said. Few succeeded; Strange or Tony, stuck in an Afghan cave, might inherit her mantle.
"Mages need talent and knowledge," Bul-Kathos said, recalling Li Min. Unpromising at Xian Sai, her talent made her the strongest mage in thirty years.
"Mages need talent, like barbarians don't?" Volusk said, eyeing Rorschach.
"Let him follow me awhile?" Volusk pressed.
"After his time, he chooses his path. I trained under many ancestors," Bul-Kathos said, touching the snow.
"Everyone remembers you as Andakurgas's heir," Volusk teased.
"Now they call me Bul-Kathos," he replied, ignoring Volusk, staring at Harrogath's snow.
"Barton! How'd I think you had talent?" Olongus yelled. Hawkeye's ranged skill didn't translate to axes. Sword habits made close combat clunky.
"Didn't expect this," Hawkeye muttered. Axes felt alien compared to swords.
"Didn't expect your fighting to suck?" Olongus snapped. He thought Maddock had it worst, but Hawkeye's ingrained habits were tougher.
"Can't win melee in a month. Axe swings feel off," Hawkeye said, unfazed, earning a black bread to the head.
"Not about beating the girl! Pass my first trial!" Olongus said. Hawkeye would face fallen demons and rats with a small axe. Olongus could slaughter demons easily, but Hawkeye needed to win.
Olongus didn't care for heirs, but all strong barbarians chased talents like his No Escape.
Cassius arrived with Natasha. "Your progress sucks," he grinned.
Cassius relied on fists, weapons a weak point—a seal on his power.
"Stay fifty meters away!" Olongus snapped, like a spooked cat.
"Scared I'll punch you? Relax," Cassius said. "Just checking your work for tips."
Natasha, like Hawkeye, struggled with old habits. Her tactical style clashed with Cassius's brawling.
"Why not bug Korik? He's training too," Olongus said.
"He's with Maddock. Bad idea," Cassius said, recalling beating Korik, fearing Maddock's chokehold and Korik's revenge.
"Bring Kotur. He'll choke Maddock, then you face Korik," Olongus said, waving Hawkeye to rest. Non-Nephalem couldn't train endlessly.
"I'd lose," Cassius grinned.
"So you think you can beat me?" Olongus roared, recalling Cassius's quick knockout.
"We're two meters apart. Think before you talk," Cassius said, cracking his knuckles.
"XXXX!" Olongus cursed, grabbing Hawkeye to train elsewhere.
"Rest, Natasha," Cassius said.
"Dinner?" Natasha asked, brushing her hair—not to charm, just habit.
"Warehouse by the dorms. Full of food," Cassius said.
Natasha and Hawkeye headed off. Hawkeye nibbled a rock-hard black bread, wincing. "Got food? You carry chocolate," he asked.
"Really that bad?" Natasha handed him a chocolate from her pouch.
Hawkeye smashed the bread against a wall, thudding. "Gotta find a way, or my stash won't last," Natasha said, grabbing a bread to soak in snowmelt.
"Why'd my teacher hide the Dark Dimension's power she controls? Selfish!" Cassius complained by a fire, roasting black bread. It didn't soften, just warmed.
"Why share?" Kanuk snapped. Strength came from self-improvement, not handouts. Cassius's whining—wanting his teacher's power shared—irritated him. Should others share their families too?
"Uh…" Cassius froze.
Kanuk shoved bread in his mouth, uppercutting him. Cassius bit through, losing two teeth.
"Whining without grit? I'll make you a tactical fighter, or I'll woo Leiko!" Kanuk cursed.
Vida's head popped up. "Tattling?" Kanuk glared.
"Nah, you'd love the excuse. I'm no messenger," Vida said, roasting Cassius's dropped bread. Ancestors, corporeal once a year, baked bread to stone-like hardness.
"Five of Bul-Kathos's brews, and I'll risk a beating to tell Leiko," Vida teased.
"Nah," Kanuk said, polishing his warding pauldron. He loved Leiko, taking her tribe's leadership after her death.
"Leiko's Ardor…" he whispered, naming her legendary chestplate, her unyielding belief.
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