Chapter 1- Duty Calls…And Apparently, Shows Up at Your House, Too
"Ow!" I yelp in the middle of my kitchen. My first word of the day is an expression of pain- that's certainly optimistic. I had turned on my kitchen TV to see a news report that concerned S.H.I.E.L.D. and I had burned my tongue when I sucked my coffee down too early. S.H.I.E.L.D., of course, stands for Strategic Hazard Intervention, Espionage Logistics Directorate, of which I am a proud agent.
Allow me to introduce myself. The name's Cooper, Nellie Cooper, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. I've been an agent since I was 17. Currently 22 years old, I had flown up the ranks like the famed Black Widow, but only as an agent. You see, when I was younger, I was chosen for…an experiment. You know how Captain America had the Super Soldier Serum? Well, I kind of got something like that, too.
Some new journalist was on the news in front of a smoking field, one I recognized well: it used to be the location of the Tesseract's experimentation facility. I turned up the volume, concerned.
"…the facility collapsed last night, burying several people beneath the earth. The facility was known to contain the Tesseract, a volatile substance the government was experimenting on, but officials assure us that the collapse was not caused by it. There have been reports of massive quantities of limestone in this area, but no definite cause has yet been established."
"You know as well as I do that there was never any limestone in that vicinity," a no-nonsense voice said from the doorway. I turned to find a lifelong friend leaning on the doorframe, already in her uniform: Agent Hill, or as I call her, Maria.
"Did I leave the door unlocked again?" I asked, happy that I had changed out of my pajamas before coming down.
"No, I just took the spare key. You really should find a place better to hide it than under the mat," she said, setting the bronze key on my counter and hopping onto the stool next to me.
"Coffee?" I asked, just as I was finishing mine up.
"No thanks, Nells," she replied, and I shrugged. "I'm here on business, actually."
"What, does Fury need someone to teach new recruits?" I asked as I came back and leaned on the counter, across from her. I was a combat specialist, best with my own hands. I could take down a guy twice my size with nothing but gloves. Any S.H.I.E.L.D. agent needed to. There were also a few weapons under my belt- literally. I had developed a small sound gun with adjustable range, which omitted sound waves both powerful and accurate enough to disrupt or stop a heartbeat, patent pending. I also had the standard Tasers, pistol, and daggers, all of which I wielded with pride and skill. Long story short, I was a fighting expert- even Director Fury says so.
"Not really," Marie said. She looked almost nervous. As she slid a manila folder over to me, she said tentatively, "It's about the Tesseract. We need people with…certain skills. Special skills. Skills that no one else has."
I shifted uneasily. I wasn't sure where this was going, but it didn't seem like a good direction.
She continued, "A hostile force has the Tesseract, which can possibly solve the energy crisis. We need to find it before he can use it for his own purposes, and we need a response team in case he does."
"I know what you're going to ask. I've told you, my work lies with my training, not my freak enhancements."
"Nells, people fear what they can't understand. S.H.I.E.L.D. gave you those enhancements for one purpose: to become a better agent. You were a superhero, Nellie! You did it because you wanted people to be just a little bit safer. Well, we need someone who can both program a computer and fight for her country. Sure, maybe the world didn't exactly like you, but at least you can prove them wrong."
By now, I was aimlessly pacing around my kitchen, my slippers making slithering footsteps across the tiled floor. "What can I do? Call Dr. Bruce Banner, he can help you more than I can. No one knows gamma rays like him."
"He's already on board, along with Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers."
"Call my cousin Clint. Even he can help you. Maria, I can't do this. I can't show my face to the world after they spat in it. He can help you better than I can."
Maria reluctantly stood up, sighed, and made her way to stand across from me. "That's the problem," she said, nervously looking at the floor.
I was confused, and to be honest, a little scared. Clint Barton was my only living relative left. We had run away to the circus when we were younger, where he learned to operate a bow and arrow like a pro. We were an act: he was Hawkeye, The World's Greatest Marksman. I was his assistant. He would shoot tiny apples from right off my head. We were seventeen when we were finally allowed to go into S.H.I.E.L.D. together. We were closer than two pages in a book. Clint wasn't one to willingly submit or refuse a duty. "What exactly is the problem?"
She looked at me, face full of regret. "Nells, Loki, the god of mischief, was the hostile force that took the Tesseract. He carried some kind of scepter that he used to…to possess your cousin. I'm sorry Nellie, but Clint Barton is under the control of Loki."
I looked at her, horrified. Clint had submitted to Loki? How? My mind was reeling. I had just called him up last week! This was impossible, yet it had happened.
"Oh my God," I uttered, unable to say anything else. Maria looked at me, at a loss for words. "Is…is there any way to get him back?"
"Nells, we don't even know where he is. Loki took the Tesseract and all of our top scientists working on it. Right now, there's nothing we can do."
"There's got to be something!" I snapped. I sat back down at my counter, unable to support myself. It was then that I fully noticed the manila folder lying there. It was labeled, "Project Pegasus."
"I won't do it," I said, Maria's brow furrowing in confusion. I stared at her, walking around across from her. She gazed back intensely, wondering where this was leading. As I walked pretty much in her face, I said, "Not for you, not for Fury, not even for America."
Once I was standing right in front of my best friend, challenging her, I said, "But I will do it for Clint."
She smiled. For once, she was able to overcome my stubbornness. She must be proud.
"Thank you, Agent Cooper," she said, saluting me. "Or would you rather me call you by your alias?"
By now, you've got to be wondering what exactly my powers are. My "freak enhancements", you ask? My abilities as a superhero Maria alluded to? Well, might as well tell you: when I was 20 years old, S.H.I.E.L.D. injected me with a mixture of avian DNA and recombining agent. I was an experiment that turned out successful. My bones are hollowed and more durable than ordinary people's, my senses far excel any human's, I'm stronger than your average bodybuilder, and my fast-working mind can solve any puzzle, no matter how hard.
The crème de la crème? I have wings. Beautiful, glossy black wings. I can fly. I was made for it.
I smirked at Maria and said, "From now on, I'm officially Magpie."
I had packed everything I needed: clothes; toothbrush; sneakers; the works. My utility belt lay on the bed beside my duffel bag, my weapons already in their holsters: my sound gun went on my right hip, my pistol on my left. My two Tasers rested at the front of my hips, my daggers in hidden sheaths within the belt itself. Pretty handy, huh? For simplicity's sake, I usually clip the belt over my suit.
Realizing that I had nothing else to pack, I turned to my suit, hanging in a plastic garment bag in the back of my closet. I slowly slipped the zipper down and carefully laid the suit out over my covers, as if it would fall apart at any moment. It was a relatively close-fitting jump suit, made of pliable leather and spandex: it's not like you can wear booty shorts to battle. The top part had slices in the back, to let my wings out. It was very similar to what Black Widow wore; except mine was white, along with my utility belt and knee-high boots. My mask was also white and angular, making me look angry and fierce. It had been three years since I last wore the suit or even looked at it. I was the famous Magpie, the woman with wings; I still love to fly, actually. I live in a woodsier, more secluded area; sometimes I would just fly around through the tall tree branches. Never in public: after I had stopped a bank robbery, people became frightened of me. Wouldn't you be if you suddenly saw a lab freak? I only stopped street criminals before, nothing really major: my wings would frighten them into submission. But when I made my first public appearance, people shunned me, and I stopped my hero work. So you see why I was hesitant about my decision to join the team.
I folded it, put it in my bag, and zipped it up. I quickly changed into some jeans, a white t-shirt, and leather jacket: easy combat gear if I ever needed to fight, plus the fact that my shirt had slits in it, so I'd just rip off the jacket and I'm ready to go. All my clothes were that way. As I pulled on my boots and buckled my belt, my doorbell rang, and it was Maria again. She had gone for lunch and come back, allowing me time to get ready.
"Ready to go?" she asked. "The SUV's in the driveway. We'll be going to a military airfield, where we'll board a plane to the carrier."
I stepped out onto my stoop and looked at my house: it was a cabin, really, but a very nice one. It was going to be the last time I looked at home for at least a few days. It had been my hiding place, where no one could persecute me. But no matter how much the world hated me, I wasn't abandoning Clint.
"Let's go," I said, locking my front door and turning away. My cousin was more important than anything.