Secret Invasion Chapter 1
"A large coffee. Nothing else. No sugar, no cream, no whatever the hell those 37 bottles behind you are full of." Jackson Owens demanded with his eyes screwed up in the early morning expression of a caffeine addict.
"So you want a grande coffee but you need to specify what kind of roast you want." The middle aged woman at the counter taking his order was doing remarkably well keeping her calm, considering what the man had done to the armed thief pinned against the wall.
"Whichever has the most kick. And give me the biggest size you have. To go."
"Mmmmmmh!" the man stuck to the wall behind Jackson moaned around his gag. Jackson had practically mummified him in duct tape and stuck him on the wall. A far more pleasant fate than the teenager who had pistol whipped Jackson, but still uncomfortable.
"Wait your turn. We have this thing called a line for a very good reason. It isn't my fault you stepped away." It definitely was his fault, but the obvious and easily refuted lie was a good indicator of the type of person Jackson was. "Coffee, please. Before I become disagreeable." The barista made it as quickly as possible and filled up a 96oz travel container. As soon as it was on the counter Jackson picked it up and started guzzling the nearly boiling liquid. Everyone watched as he put away nearly half of the hot coffee in a single go. When he finally stopped and put the lid back on the travel jug his eyes were wide open. A little too wide for him to look sane. "Much better." He tossed a twenty dollar bill on the counter. "Oh, and you might want to call the police on those two. The bindings won't last for more than an hour."
Jackson walked out of the Starbucks with a caffeine fueled smile. He stepped outside into an all-out assault on the city. Mechanized soldiers were dropping from dirigibles hanging in the sky and shooting everything that was out in the open. Jackson took another gulp of coffee and tossed the container aside, unfinished. This was the reason he was here, he had been called to this city with the promise of answers. And since his opponents were mere mechanical dolls there was no need for him to hold back. With a wave of his hand, the young man sent a hail of metal javelins up into the sky at Mach 1.
The onslaught tore through mechanical bodies and shredded blimps with disdain and when their momentum had been exhausted they began to fall back to the earth. Jackson made use of gravity and guided his creations toward remaining targets. They impacted at their terminal velocity, shredding metal bodies and shattering the pavement beneath the robots. Conjuring a staircase, Jackson walked to a greater height in order to better see his targets. He'd destroyed two of the five blimps in his first attack and now the other three were coming straight for him along with the ground troops they had already deployed. Perfect.
"Hey, dimwits! Over here you useless scrap heaps! I'm putting out a call for all walking dustbins!" Jackson shouted with manic cheer. That actually seemed to spur the mechanized legion toward him faster. That meant there was something with an ego controlling the many robots. Not that Jackson Owens cared one way or the other. He mentally commanded the javelins to rise into the air and point toward the force charging at him with the promise of death.
The rest of the dismantling took more than an hour and Jackson made a show of it. Far more of a show than he really had to so the TV cameras could get their fill. When it was over he reformed the javelins into metal bins in order to carry the scrap to a metal compactor or a recycling plant. If he simply let his created weapons disappear then the damage done to the robots would also be undone and they may just start up and begin killing people again. And he couldn't have that. He needed everyone to think he was a hero, at least for a while.
#
Nick Fury looked at the Skrull body on the floor, that still vaguely looked like Valentina Fontaine. He took out a cell phone and dialed. Someone picked up. "July 16th, 1941. Soldier." He hung up before the person could reply.
#
Jackson's performance was seen by millions, no that he cared much. But the audience he really wanted to impress was tuned in to the broadcast as well. The cloaked Skrull ship was monitoring all of Earth's communications, though sifting through the garbage to find the important information was tedious. The Captain of the ship watched the broadcast of Owen's heroism with interest. An unknown hero, and one with the ability to freely manipulate a specific material. The strange metal spears defied the analytic techniques of his agents on the ground. The material had vanished from Skrull hands sometime in the night. Interesting.
This was a golden opportunity. Replacing established heroes was a time-consuming business because so many details had to be accounted for. But with someone so new and unknown the details could be overlooked. All the infiltration agent needed to do was take him out in private and switch places.
Once enough heroes were replaced and the balance tipped in favor of a successful invasion the charade would no longer be necessary. Oh how the Captain wished that time was already upon him. This was the most dull, plodding method of takeover he'd ever been misfortunate enough to take part in. He wanted blood and violent death. The more the better. He thought of the despair and agony of the betrayed humans when the curtain fell. It improved his mood somewhat.
"Kaigor. Do you think you can replace this one without making a mess?" the Captain asked a particularly deadly specimen standing behind his chair.
"Of course." Came the exceedingly gruff reply. The Skrull's voice sounded like his vocal chords had been damaged at some point in the past. "He's a toothpick, even by human standards."
"Minimal collateral damage."
"Of course."
#
Four hours later a young man walked into a café and dropped into a seat facing an old man. He ordered a black tea. They didn't say anything for awhile. "You got some nerve, calling in a favor to me."
"Last I checked you promised to work for me."
"That was before your little incursion into Latveria. I didn't appreciate you trying to erase my memories."
"I don't apologize for what I did."
"No, you never do." He paused and eyed the people around them. "So what's the deal this time?"
"What do you know about the Skrulls?"
The young man licked his teeth. "Shapeshifters. Aliens. Mean, but practically red shirts. Well, except for what's-his-face that has the Fantastic Four's powers."
"They've invaded."
"Past tense?"
"You don't seem surprised."
He shrugged. "With my… experience… it takes a lot for someone to pass themselves off as someone else. An alien shapeshifter stands out for me. A human walks a certain way, talks, generally behaves in specific ways that no alien can mimic. It takes a human to be a human. Heck even human shapeshifters have a hard time switching genders. A man just can't be a woman or vice versa. Each gender has certain unique aspects, and they're not just physical. But I've noticed some oddities going on. I'm not around the Avengers and the like that often, but I don't know. I was wondering if some of them, and even some SHIELD agents had been replaced."
"So you're saying you could spot a Skrull?"
"Yes. Look, I'm not saying that I can spot them quickly, especially one in a crowd. But yeah, I can spot a Skrull, especially one on one."
"Good, because you're going to have to."
The young man straightened up. "What's the mission, Director?"
"You know I'm not in SHIELD anymore. I got some of my own plans to move on, but I need someone who can start doing things now, but quietly."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I don't know who's all been replaced or what the game is, but I want you to find out who has been, and infiltrate the Skrulls."
"That's a heck of a counter-intelligence mission."
"Yes, but if they hit us, and we can't know who to trust, that's going to be a problem." Fury got up to leave.
"One question, sir. How do you know I'm who I say I am?"
"Because you knew where I was talking about. Not many people know enough about you to know where you were at that date. And, because you're too much of an unknown to bother replacing. You've only really worked for me that anyone's aware of, and even then we weren't close. No, they'd replace random SHIELD agents before they'd replace you, Sean. Enjoy your tea." Fury was quickly lost in the crowd as the waitress brought Sean his tea.
Sean blew on it as he looked over the cup's rim at the people around him. This was going to be a tough one.
#
The interview with the reporters didn't take very long but helping to clear the destroyed robots did take a good deal of his time. It had to be done though. And when it was done, Jackson Owens rented all the rooms at a tiny little motel and waited. He was glad he'd stolen money from several organizations while he searched for his answers, turns out that money was actually useful for something. By renting all the rooms he could keep the civilian casualties to a minimum. It wasn't the sort of thing he was used to thinking about since he'd rarely had cause to play defense. The last time he had defended himself had been 5 years ago when Weapon X decided they wanted to unravel the secrets to Jackson's power. It had turned out very messy. Like Nick Fury, the Weapon X program believed that Jackson was unwilling or unable to kill human beings. That had been a very costly mistake on their part and had required Jackson to dig a very deep hole. But the fight had resulted in the accidental deaths of two innocent bystanders. Not this time. Jackson promised himself. He was likely to live a very long time and he didn't want to burden himself with the deaths of innocent people. It kind of killed the delirious euphoria he lived in most of the time.
"I wish they would hurry this up." Jackson grumbled to himself. He broke open a fortune cookie, one of several dozen he'd bought along with his Mongolian stir-fry. "May you live to see interesting times… Hey!" Jaskson protested meekly at the curse inside his fortune cookie. He sat up from his bed and flicked the small piece of paper into the air. Before it drifted down to the floor he created a small knife. The conjured metal pierced the paper and pinned it to the wall opposite the bed. It narrowly missed the neck of the cloaked Skrull agent who had been observing Jackson for the last half an hour.
The agent's conclusion after thirty minutes of observation was that this human was mentally damaged and would use his powers at the tip of a hat. He spoke to himself, sometimes speaking only half of a conversation out loud. Listening to the human attempt to sing had been painful and he had almost broken his cover just to shut the ape up. Then, mercifully, the human had turned on the motel's primitive television and begun flipping through channels.
"I'd turn on something from pay-per-view for you, but I don't think they have anything featuring green women." Jackson said. The Skrull tensed where he was. There was no way the boy could have known he was there. His cloak made him invisible and inaudible. But the knife Jackson sent speeding at his head proved that he had been found out. He ducked the knife and dropped his apparently useless cloak.
"How did you know I was there?" the Skrull asked.
"Did you know how hard it was to find a motel that had shag carpeting?" Jackson said, pointing to the alien's feet. Apparently the cloaking device wasn't able to hide the half-inch deep footprints the Skrull left in the floor. Such a simple mistake, but that one misstep had blown his cover. "Now that you're done hiding we can talk." Jackson said with what he meant to be a cheerful smile. Even the Skrull could tell that he had failed miserably. Now that the human's attention was focused on him, the infiltrator was feeling uneasy, almost sick. Was this thing really human?
"No talking. You're going into cold storage and I'll be taking your place."
"And I should come quietly or else, is that about right?"
"You will go quietly. No second option." The Skrull pulled out a weapon that would render Jackson unconscious. It had the added bonus of being excruciatingly painful. The weapon, disguised as a water pistol so he could carry it without causing a scene if he happened to be seen, fired a line of blue energy at Jackson who didn't even attempt to dodge. When it hit the human his body twitched spasmodically and he let out an eardrum-shattering scream. It was a deeply satisfying moment for the Skrull. Jackson dropped to the thick carpet like a boned fish. "Finally." He went to go retrieve the fallen superhero and transport him back to the scout ship orbiting the planet. The Skrull grabbed the limp body by the wrist but jumped in surprise when the body grabbed back.
"Gotcha." The Skrull felt his skin try to crawl away from Jackson's grip. He made eye contact with the human for the first time and instantly knew that he should have turned down this mission.
#
The bell on the bookstore's door rang as a young man entered. "Good morning," he called to the green eyed woman behind the counter. She nodded politely to him. The handful of other customers glanced at him and then back to the books they were considering.
The man wandered around the store, pausing a little longer in the history section. After awhile he brought up a book to the counter.
"Jesus , the Apostles and the Early Church by Pope Benedict. Good choice." The woman at the counter scanned the bar code.
The man smiled at her. "Are you saying that because you've read it?"
She bowed her head, smiling. "No, I can't say that I have." She swept back a stray strand of brown hair in a self conscious way.
He pulled out his credit card, and pressed it into her hand. "You should try his Introduction to Christianity. It's quite a good analysis of Christianity, religion, and humanity in general. You might find it very educational."
Her smile faltered momentarily. "Thank you. I'll look into it."
#
Norman Osborn was having a very bad day. His Thunderbolts were the ones who were supposed to stop that carefully planned attack. He'd "acquired" mechanized soldiers and sent them to attack so his team could take them down and get the glory. But some upstart meta-human had shown up and completely wrecked the small army of robots before his team could respond. How was he ever going to move up in the world if some random kid could foul everything up.
His computer beeped, alerting him that the facial recognition program he'd been running had gotten results. The face he'd run through every government database had gotten multiple hits, including one hit from the DMV. According to the US government, Jackson Owens was legally dead. The face on the drivers license matched the one form the news broadcast almost exactly. He'd even arranged for fingerprints to be taken from the coffee shop Jackson had visited before taking on a robot army. Those matched the juvenile police record attached to the name Jackson Owens. Every record he'd found told him two things: This young man was physically identical to Jackson Owens, and that Jackson Owens was declared dead a little more than 10 years prior to his TV appearance.
He glanced back at the recording of Jackson's brief and very one-sided battle. He watched the spears of metal collide with the ground at such a speed that he had to mentally reclassify them as kinetic energy weapons. He'd hacked a SHIELD satellite to scan for abnormal energy readings and had come up dry. At the very least he'd been expecting a distortion in the magnetic field, similar to the effects of Magneto's powers. Norman Osborn was simply at a loss.
"Scouting some new talent?" Bullseye asked from the doorway to Osborn's office.
"Yes." Osborn replied, immediately seizing on the idea of bringing Jackson Owens under his command. It hadn't occurred to him before because he'd been angry and the Thunderbolts were usually former criminals trying to work off a prison sentence. But once Bullseye had suggested it he saw no reason he couldn't recruit the boy. Dead man or not, everyone was vulnerable with the right kind of leverage. He could even go to the trouble of framing Jackson and having him arrested before making the offer. Tempting as it was to ruin the boy's life out of petty spite, there were easier ways to get what he wanted. "Would you ask Songbird to come to my office?"
"Ah, going right to the mind control. Better hope he never finds out. The kid has decent aim." The assassin commented.
"What makes you say that?"
"He made it rain metal and the news hasn't reported a single death or serious injury. That means his aim was good enough that he didn't hit any has one of those annoying conscience things that Songbird keeps griping about." Bullseye left to go find his teammate. But his comment about conscience gave Osborn another idea. He uploaded the interview onto a program that would read body language and micro expressions. Time to see just how honest Jackson Owens was on that interview.
#
Sean sat drinking tea in a park and reading the newspaper. A beautiful red headed woman with green eyes sat next to him. "How are you dear?" she asked in an Irish accent. She kissed him on the cheek, and leaned in close to him.
"Better now that you're here, love." He replied in even a stronger Irish accent. He put down his paper and tea on his other side. "Thank you for coming, Lyja," he whispered as he put his arm around her and bent to kiss the top of her head. No one would be able to see his lips move. There was no passion in his kiss, or hers for that matter. But someone from a distance would not be able to tell the difference, and no one was around them.
She laid her head against the rest side of his chest, such that her hair fell across her face. No one could now read her lips either. "That was pretty clever, imprinting a message onto the credit card. I was the only person who could possibly have noticed it. How did you know I would recognize it?"
"A hunch. You're a shapeshifter. You're skin is more pliable and you have to have more sense of what shape it is than a human. Words impressed into your skin would last a bit longer due to your skin being more pliable, plus due to your greater senses regarding it, you'd have a chance to know what words pressed into it said."
"Well, a message stating that, 'We stop Skrulls. North CP. 7:47," was enough to get my attention. Just who are you?"
"A recently retired SHIELD agent and an ally of Nick Fury. I only have a rough idea of what's coming. I'm guessing you know more."
"How can I trust you?"
"Valid question. Because madam, unlike you, I bleed red." He felt her tense slightly at the statement. "You'll find a knife in a scabbard on my belt. You're covering it. No one will see you remove it. Stab me with it. That'll give you your proof."
"You want me to stab you?"
"I'll be fine. But please don't make it too deep. Too much blood will be noticeable and I may not be able to stop myself from yelling out in pain. Also, be careful yourself. That knife is adamantium and sharp enough to cut through steel."
He gave a sharp intake of breath as the knife bit into him. She covered it by kissing him full on the lips. She did as he wished though, and didn't stab him very deeply. She returned the knife to his scabbard as she again rested her head on his chest. There was a smudge of red on her thumb. She wiped onto her pants.
"So you're human," she whispered, "and you trust me enough to stab you. Why is that, and what does that really prove to me?"
"The answer to both is Johnny Storm. I trust you because you love him, and while it may not be proof, we both know that you have a better chance of saving him with help."
"And someone with a healing factor and a knife that can cut through invulnerable Skrulls would make a good ally?"
"Points for being able to see the big and small picture. Yes, that's exactly what I mean."
"The problem is that I don't really know that much. I'm just supposed to blow up the Baxter building." There was a note of despair in her voice.
"So they did contact you."
"Yes, just a couple of days before you."
"One of the customers in the store was a Skrull."
"I suspected that they have been watching me. But I've been on Earth longer than any of them. I was able to give them the slip without appearing to try to."
"Good." Sean was quite a moment. "We'll have to capture one to get more information." She stiffened under his arm. "It won't be any that are near you. That might tip them off. I shouldn't even need your help in the capture, but I may need your help in the interrogation. I am not all that knowledgeable about Skrulls." He paused, thinking. "When are you supposed to blow up the Baxter building?"
"In three weeks." Again, the despair entered her voice.
"Don't worry. We'll find another way. You won't have to kill the Fantastic Four." He squeezed her shoulder in a reassuring manner. "It'll be okay, Lyja. Can you meet me at this address in a couple of days?" He slipped her a piece of paper.
"Alright."
"Be sure to come alone. And you really should read that book."
She got up off of the bench. "You sure are a strange one," she whispered as she kissed him on the lips. "I'll see you later." She smiled and walked away.
Sean smiled back at her as she walked way, playing his part. Then he picked up his paper, tucked it under one arm, took his tea, and left in the opposite direction. He had an alien abduction to plan.
#
If Osborn could have seen what Jackson did to the Skrull he wouldn't have needed to rely on a computer to divine the young man's moral disposition. Over the course of the night he'd engaged in a process of trial and error to learn about Skrull anatomy, specifically where their nerve clusters were. He talked with his prisoner all the while, both to interrogate him and to break him down on an emotional level. Jackson had once watched a video by some British guy who claimed that torture didn't work. The truth was that it worked, in conjunction with several other things. Torture without proper psychological manipulation was just petty violence. The pain and fear involved in torture were just tools to be used in order to break the will and drive of the victim so they wouldn't be able to resist manipulation.
"So, give me a hand with some feedback. Does it hurt more when I do this?" Jackson twisted an implement buried in the Skrull's kneecap eliciting a choked scream. "Or when I do this?" He stuck his thumb into a cut just under the alien's sternum and pressed on the cracked bone. This time no sound came out. The Skrull just turned a darker shade of green and shuddered. "Interesting. I'll have to record this for after we've curbstomped your invading army. I'm sure what few people you manage to kill will have loved ones who want revenge." The Skrull looked like it was about to pass out so Jackson let the barbed piece of metal in its' leg go back to nonexistence. The wound vanished along with the weapon, as was the case with his power. "Stay with me. We still have so much to talk about."
"Nothing to say." The alien muttered in Skrullese. That earned him a deft blow across the face.
"English." Jackson held up his hand and formed a spiked metal gauntlet around it. "Or I'll have to stop asking nicely." It was a tiny concession. That was the way to start an effective interrogation. Most prisoners started with an inflexible position. Erode that position little by little and eventually you'd start getting the things you wanted. That was the basic idea behind any interrogation. The torture was just a way to speed that process up.
"I won't betray my Queen." It said. Jackson smiled widely in triumph. So there was a Skrull queen leading this invasion.
"I'm not asking for you to do that. I just want to hear your side of this. Why invade the Earth? Doesn't the Empire have a dozen habitable planets already?"
"Eat kravk, human." The metal gauntlet colliding with the Skrull's skull splashed droplets of green blood all over the motel wall.
"Now that was rude. I guess I'll have to educate you so you can better integrate into human society." Jackson made a show of considering that thought then shook his head. "Nah, I'm just gonna keep hitting you stop annoying me."
#
"You wanted to see me?" Melissa Gold, AKA Songbird, asked as politely as she could. She had a healthy distaste for Norman Osborn. That might have been a little hypocritical since her past misdeeds were not any less heinous than his, but she still thought of him as a full-on villain.
"Yes. Ms. Gold, I need you to make a recruiting pitch to a prospective Thunderbolt."
"Since when do we need a recruitment pitch?"
"Since I decided we need a few new members who haven't been incarcerated. And since you're the only member of the team who can talk to people without resorting to threats of violence you seem to be the only choice for the job."
"And I should be willing to do this because…?"
"Because I said so."
"And that line worked out so well for you in the past." Songbird turned to leave.
"Alright." Osborn conceded. "I think this potential recruit is a disaster waiting to happen. It would be better if he was here where people capable of shutting him down can keep an eye on him." Melissa stopped but didn't turn back around. That was not the argument she'd expected to hear. "I watched his interview. As far as I can tell the young man is a clinical sociopath. He's acting like a hero because he thinks it will get him something, not because he genuinely cares about the people he's saving." That was a half-truth. Osborn did indeed see signs of Anti-Social Personality Disorder but the short video hadn't shown full blown sociopathy or psychopathy. "You need to bring him to us by any means necessary."
"Great, another ticking time bomb." She muttered. But, assuming Osborn wasn't lying, he did have a point. Better to have some watchful eyes on a potential disaster before it happened than have to clean up the bodies afterword.
"I do mean by any means necessary. Even if you have to mess with his head." Osborn clarified.
"I'll see what I can do. Just tell everyone I'm bringing home a guest."
#
"I told you only to call this number if you had something important." Nick Fury growled quietly.
"I think you'll want to hear this." Jackson held the phone up to the captured Skrull's mouth. "Tell him what you told me." Fury heard whimpering noises and a sharp cry of pain before a deeper voice than Jacksons' started speaking.
"My Queen has brought us to this world because it was prophesied that this planet would be our new homeworld. The Skrulls that are here are what remains of the Empire after the wave of darkness consumed our worlds. Please just kill me." Fury heard the shuffling sound of a phone being adjusted against someone's ear.
"That's what I've got so far." Jackson said.
"What was that last part he said?"
"Just a side-effect. Nothing to worry about. Don't get all Fury-ous about it." Fury groaned at the pun. "I think that's all this guy actually knows. But, just in case, where should I drop this very cooperative Skrull?" before Fury could answer there was a knock on the motel door.
"What's that?"
"Probably the motel owner again, looking for another bribe. Just give me a minute to take care of it and I'll call you back." Jackson put the phone down on the bedside table, one of the few clean spots left in the room. He opened his wallet and unlocked the door. Instead of the old, really skinny guy he'd bribed twice already there was a woman with red and white hair. He had to stop and blink for a moment. She was dressed in some kind of tight suit surrounded by a metal harness, indicating that she was a superhero of some sort.
While Jackson was examining his unexpected guest, Melissa Gold, AKA Songbird, was staring at the greenish fluid staining his hands, face, and shirt. "Are you Jackson Owens?" she asked.
"Probably." He responded. She stared at the money in his hand, several hundred dollar bills. "Are you here about the robot thing?"
"Yes. What did you think I was here about?" she nodded at the money.
"I was expecting someone else. I'm pleasantly surprised, Ms…?"
"I'm Songbird. I'm here on behalf of Norman Osborn and the Thunderbolts."
"Terrible name for a band. Especially since you lead with 'Norman Osborn'." Jackson said as an offhand comment. Then his scattered brain seized on the name Thunderbolts. "What do the world's premier ex-con superteam want with me?"
"Can I come in?" she asked. The manic smile on Jackson's face froze in place. Crazy he might be but even he knew that a tortured, broken Skrull was not something a superhero would take in stride. But on the other hand he couldn't erase his instruments and tools because that would restore the Skrull's physical health. Even bolted to the wall he might be able to escape.
"Of course. Sorry if the place is a mess." Songbird walked in and saw the tortured Skrull pinned to the back wall and the drying green liquid smeared that moment her choice was made. Seeing that broken creature let her accept that the lying bag of scum that called itself Norman Osborn might be telling the truth. This guy had answered the door with a smile on his face after torturing a sentient being. "I was just about to clean up and drop this terrorist off with SHIELD."
"Terrorist?" she asked, for the moment concerned with making it out of that room without violence.
"Well, someone who was in the midst of planning a terrorist attack. He snuck in here to kidnap or kill me and walk around with my face, just waiting for the signal to help tear down the world's infrastructure. Isn't that right, Kaigor?" Songbird watched the Skrull shudder and nod his head.
"Who was going to signal him?" she asked, both intrigued and horrified that the Skrull wasn't dead from all the injuries inflicted on it.
"Kaigor, answer the beautiful woman." Jackson said.
"My Queen will lead the faithful to conquest." He said weakly.
"There you have it." Songbird turned back to Jackson in time to see him throw a handaxe past her and into the Skrull's face. She reacted immediately and hit Jackson with a wave of sonic energy that knocked him halfway into the next room over. She turned back to check on the Skrull.
"What the heck?" Kaigor the Skrull was lying face down in the shag carpeting, alive and physically unharmed, but completely unconscious.
"Nice shot." Jackson laughed. "I like a woman who voices her opinions." He pulled himself out of the broken drywall and brushed dust from his vest and shirt. "But do you really want to play with me?" Jackson had seemed a little off when she'd first met him but now he looked almost inhuman. Sure he hadn't changed physically but the feeling she got from him tripped the primitive instinct that all humans had buried in the back of their brains. That mind-numbing and paralyzing fear of the incomprehensible. It was the same thing that made people afraid of the dark or deep water. Looking at Jackson's wide eyes and deranged smile gave Songbird the same feeling, like there was something huge and unimaginably dangerous hiding behind the appearance of a twenty-something man in a suit.
"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot." She started.
"Too late for that now." Jackson advanced a step and Songbird called up her wings so she could be ready to guard at a moment's notice.
"I'm sorry, I thought you'd killed him." She said taking a step back.
"I'm not sorry." Jackson took another step forward. Songbird got ready to blast him again, much harder this time. Jackson lifted a hand, preparing to attack. Then the tension was shattered by Jackson's ringing cell phone. "Well, that killed the mood. Just a sec." He picked up the phone and answered it. Songbird was hesitant to relax but the feeling she'd been drowning in just a moment ago had vanished entirely. "Hello?"
"Change of plans Owens. I just got a tip that Norman Osborn is looking to recruit you for the Thunderbolts." Jackson looked back at Songbird.
"Really?"
"Yes. And I want you to go along with it. Not just because of Skrull infiltration but because Osborn is a clinical psychopath working with a group of more of the same. If he offers you a spot I want you to take it."
"Can I keep the pay?" Jackson asked. He didn't really care but he wanted to do something to trip Nick Fury up for a moment.
"Sure. Just remember why you're there."
"Right. For the Stars and Stripes and apple pie." Jackson hung up. "You said you were here on behalf of Osborn and his team?" he asked.
"Yeah." She didn't deactivate her wings. If anything she pulled them further around her for protection.
"Don't worry, the moment passed." Jackson sat on the bedside table. "Why are you here?" he prompted.
"Osborn wanted me to invite you to join our team."
"I accept. Now, take me to your leader." She gave him a flat look. He sighed in feigned exasperation. "Nobody appreciates the classics anymore."
#