The speaker strode his way through the standing ovation into a different room. Deep Blue picked up on what he said through his mic.
"Come in, cabal. The room is ready, we filter out the eagerness later."
"Strucker will want a report on the next batch. Too many mouths, and he doesn't want to feed them."
I intercepted their comms and spoke.
"Then give him tools that break, not men."
"I don't recognize your voice."
"You are not one of us."
"Provisionary entry, Halloway. I was flagged earlier, wasn't I?"
"The name's on the Stucker file… background incomplete."
"Why step forward now?"
"Strucker doesn't like small talk. In his words, talk is cheap and for conmen."
"And what makes you think you are fit to stand here?" A woman's voice, sultry.
"I'm already here aren't I? The comms line we've been speaking in the whole time is only limited to those Strucker thinks is worthy."
"He has a point." A man chuckled begrudgingly through the earpiece.
"You walk a dangerous line, newcomer."
"Why would I fall then?"
A voice came through.
"The Ørsted-INV cell in Queens isn't performing. Their prototype shipment was delayed three cycles. Stucker's not pleased. I've been shitting bricks the whole time here. Thank Hive he was absent."
"If you consolidate the supply lines, you minimize risk of attrition. Redundant transport routes, staggered schedules… I've mapped efficiencies that could recover lost cycles."
Efficiencies I'll crack down on later.
"The Zola interface fragment is active in the Brooklyn lab. We need confirmation before deployment. Any misstep could compromise Ørsted entirely."
Bing-... Pot! I tried to do bingo then I switched but the thought came through.
"I've got access to the grid near the lab. Signals indicate no active countermeasures. I can provide a clean trace and verify interface integrity." I responded.
"You move fast for someone not officially cleared. You don't even deserve to be here but now you're giving orders?"
"Now, now, Lou. Let the newbie have his fun. I remember once you were like that too. Overeager, wanting to prove himself. Look where that got you."
"Don't push my buttons, Syl. Your husband's a manwhore and your kid's a crackhead. I'd say I was dealt a better hand than you of all people."
"Fuck you, Lou."
"Back to the topic, cabal." Said the speaker from earlier.
"Speaking of overeager, aren't you trigger-happy today, Orsted? You get one Affirm then you set up something like this out of the blue?" said Syl.
"All for HYDRA." the old man grunted.
"Let's face it, old man, you're being pushed out of the company you started and now you're just trying to bring us down with you. Good for me, I'm not willing to take orders from an old dog that can't learn new tricks." said Lou.
I didn't expect banter like this from high-ranking cultists and spymasters.
"Either way, guys, we'll have to deal with the splinter cells in Queens." I intervened, trying to reel in more info.
"Those aren't splinter cells, kid. They're mercs and they failed is all. Even a provisionary like you should know that… unless you're not a provisionary."
"This isn't the time to pick fights with the newcomers. This is a dire time for the New York collective. Only Hive knows what Washington and SHIELD's cooking up this time."
"Speaking of Washington, exactly when do I get a sitrep on things outside of New York?" I inquired.
"When you become a permanent, duh."
"Any exceptions?"
"None. Anyone ever tell you you ask too many questions?"
This isn't going well. Lou's onto me.
"How am I supposed to pull my weight if I don't even know half of what you're saying here?"
"I got my eyes on you, Halloway."
"Anyways… I'll follow up on Zola's Brooklyn fragment, have the greenhorn get confirmation and help me out, dump the Queens issue on someone else. Fine by you, old man?" said Syl.
"Approved. Get Halloway his full documentation. It sets a bad precedent for future ops if we send him in our bigger extractions without a full background."
I'm counting on you Deep Blue. Don't let them get the full picture of who I am.
Will do, sir.
My body jolted in surprise. I did not think Deep Blue's first words would be 'will do, sir'.
The meeting ended and the doors closed behind me. I got three days before Zola and I need to make those days matter.
—
Two days later. Midtown High.
The lockers across the hallway weren't anything apt for high schoolers. It seemed like equipment reserved for those stuck in jail. They get jammed every other time they close, so that must be why the best way to bully anerd nowadays is to get them stuck in a locker.
"Friggin' nerd.", the fat blond spat as he jacked up the lock with a stereotypical nerd inside.
"Come on, guys! Let him go!", another blond kid wailed with hands buckled on her waist.
"The lackeys laughed. "Relax, Barbie. We're just giving him some… social development."
I leaned against the lockers with arms crossed, letting the scene cook for a second.
My voice dipped near theatrical, "Hey guys, leave him alone."
"Needle dick!"
"Faggot yank!"
"No bitches!"
Damn, did I spit out insults like this when I was a kid?
I stepped in without another word and pushed the biggest one by the shoulder hard enough for him to stumble. Despite the efforts of the seventh graders in pulling my hand away from the shivering locker, I just yanked open the lock and let the nerd out.
"You okay?" I asked him, ignoring the glares around me. He nodded quickly and embarrassedly, and I guided him past the circle of bullies like it was nothing.
===============
"Uh, I'm Peter." I, stuttering and knees weakening, said to the maniac-looking tall kid that seemed to be enshrouded in the dark as his figure stood in contrast to the lightbulb behind his neck. Gwen turned her attention toward me, worried about something on her face. "You okay, Pete?"
I tugged at my shirt and my wool vest, knit by Aunt May. I could never seem to stand up right when these things happen.
I nodded quickly. "Yeah. Fine. Happens all the time."
Which was exactly the problem.
"Peter Parker," I said as I was glancing up at him. If someone saves you, you're supposed to at least give them your name, right? "That was… uh, you didn't have to do that."
This guy's too old to win points with Gwen. Too young to be a TA. He's gotta want money or something.
"But I did," he said simply.
=====
I'm Peter Parker. Punching bag extraordinaire. And I hate lunch.
I'm always stuck with the table stained with macaroni and bubble gum featuring stank from liters of puke.
What hurt more was the sitting alone part. Gwen was always surrounded by people, and I wasn't about to fight for a spot near her. The other tables either ignored me or beat on me if I got too pushy.
At that moment, when my nose stung for the tenth time from the intoxicating and lustrous smell of vomit, I noticed the new kid. The guy who got me out the lockers.
He's the only guy with no one else sitting on his table because he looked like a serial killer from a movie. It was the kind of face that you couldn't trust. Not ugly, not killer handsome, just the right kind of shady.
Tall as he was, he took advantage of the table space for his notes. All scattered in disarray, but when lunch ended he'd get them in his bag. He didn't talk much, didn't smile much, but he did eat too much.
"Mind if I sit here?", I said with a stutter.
"Yeah, yeah, just pile up the notes to my side if you need the space."
I took a glance at his notes, and saw schematics of a droid's inner skeleton. Primed for basic 2d movement through modular suspension systems.
"What's the droid for?"
"Basic first-aid. In the event of a catastrophe or a disaster or maybe in a war, this droid should be able to traverse any and all kinds of terrain whilst still being able to perform preliminary aid. I don't expect you to get it."
"This stuff looks too perfect for you to make."
"Are you trying to imply that I'm too stupid to be able to make this type of stuff?"
"I didn't mean it as an insult! I just thought this was too high-level for someone your age."
"Your point stands for yourself." I flipped through the other pages, depicting a spherical inflatable sitting on top of spiderlegs. It was titled Baymax.
"Don't you think this hydraulic system on the tenth and twelfth leg looks too flimsy to hold?"
"That's one of the earlier versions, I didn't think hydraulics would hold up for long-time civilian use."
"Good point. Though you did say a war, so I thought this was for the military."
"Not necessarily, it just has to hold up. What with 9/11 a few years ago."
"Is that why you're working on this? Did you lose someone that day?"
"No, I was in juvie that time. But stuff like that will happen in the future, I'm sure. I'm just hoping I'll be able to make a difference then."
"You were in juvie?"
"Petty larceny for a year."
"How was it?"
"Way too boring."
The conversation went on and on and on until the bell rang for the next period. I think I made myself a new friend.
—--
Did I even get his name?
Someone like him would be sure to be famous in the future. Maybe some obscure character from the comics?
Either way, I think I just made myself a new intern.
I've prepared for this day with too much effort. That night with Strucker-Orsted, I got a makeover. I wore glasses, wore a suit, made myself way more tan, trimmed my brows, and got a new haircut. Put both of my identities next to each other, it would make us look like brothers. Close, but not quite.
The dossier they left me told me to look for a young woman, late 20s, Latverian, "aryan" so to say.
The spatter of the raindrops surrounding me and the petrichor flowing through my sensory organs were interrupted by the voice of a seductress.
"Care to join me today, Halloway?"
"Only if you make it worth my while…" I responded.
Years of smacking down with prostitutes lead to deeper understanding of how to tempt and to reel in the female psyche. That understanding doesn't quite constitute conversing with self-respecting women, so I hope I make a good first impression.
"You really are new at this, aren't you?", said Sylvia, clad in a maroon greatcoat.
"I'd ask what gave it away, but it's too obvious, isn't it?"
"Indeed. It begs the question why Strucker thinks you worthy."
"This again?" My breath light as we strode to our car. I made a mistake getting into HYDRA with Strucker's name. Who knew the random guy I picked to be my hypothetical superior turns out to be the worst one for the job?
The sedan door slammed behind us, and the driver eased into the rain-slicked avenue.
"You don't get to this level without scars… and you don't seem like you have any." Sylvia said, lighting a tobacco pipe.
"Smoking isn't only bad for you, it's bad for me too. Who even smokes inside a car in this day and age?"
"Stop dodging the question. Know that this isn't coming from a place of enmity, I just want to cover all the bases, as you will."
"I cover them better than most." I adjusted my cuffs, like I'd rehearsed. "Scar tissue just slows the blade."
Her eyes flicked to me as if weighing flesh against words and her lips curled into a smirk of amusement. It was like the face a babysitter would make when the kid confesses he's in love with her.
"What's so bad about preparing?"
She exhaled smoke out the window. "It's not that it's bad, it just makes you easy pickings for people like me."
"But if I rehearsed, I'll survive long enough to need it."
"Survival's not everything here, Halloway. We want results. We hunger for more. And you—" she slipped ash into the tray, "—have none."
"Not yet," I conceded. "But if I were just another drifter eager for a warm meal and a paycheck, you wouldn't be escorting me to Brooklyn, would you?"
The driver's eyes flicked at us through the rearview, and she noticed. A subtle glance, a warning. She leaned closer and lowered her voice.
"Careful. Bravado gets men shot in alleys."
"Then I'll count myself lucky." I allowed myself a thin smile.
"Hey, help me out here. Are you bold or retarded? I just can't decide…"
"The difference is in whether I come back from Brooklyn, is it not?" We fell into silence for a few blocks, rain blurring the lights outside. Then she asked, "What did Strucker see in you?"
"That's the question everyone keeps asking me."
Syl snorted, tugging her greatcoat tighter against the drizzle. "Because the answer matters. People don't get in HYDRA without someone else from inside. And so far, you've got nothing to show for it."
"Isn't today supposed to be my time to shine?"
"I got called in. Maybe not by Strucker. But someone higher saw something."
"Has anyone ever told you that you act like a retarded puppy? No one's higher than Strucker, moron."
Syl's eyes narrowed. SHIT.
"C'mon, won't you give me the benefit of the doubt?" I said, as I prepared to activate my Holtzmann barriers.
"Convenient," she said. "Strucker's overseas, the rest of the Council too busy to argue… and suddenly you arrive with a story no one can disprove."
I smiled faintly. "Then you'll just have to test me yourself."
That stopped her for a moment. Not because she believed me, but because the bluff was too bold for a greenhorn.
She shook her head, muttering, "Madness," and unlocked the car.
"We're here, Halloway."
—-
Seriously guys, just give a comment or two.