For months, tales and rumors of a new threat to the human race have been circling around the agents of SHIELD. It all started when a small town in Wyoming suddenly erupted in a devastating blaze unlike any other. Instead of scarlet flames and orange flickers, the town was swallowed by a massive fire of black. At the peak of the engulfed and hopeless town, the flames emitted a harsh red smoke, causing even further destruction. Any living creature that inhaled the toxic smoke had their lungs charred within minutes. The vegetation, from lush mountains, sparkling rivers, and open meadows, perished either under the raging black fire or disintegrated from the smoke. Such a blaze has never been recorded in the history of man; naturally, the director at SHIELD immediately set out a squad to investigate. Surrounding the outskirts of the burned town was a specific line. From satellite scans, the fire had remained inside the border; it was the red smoke that was lifted to a longer radius of three miles that caused the most natural disaster. Needless to say, the citizens of the Wyoming town had vanished off of the surface of the earth. All that remained were small ash piles, lining the streets, sitting in chairs, laying in beds, both adult and child. The vehicles were crisped and melted at the tires and fabric interiors. Atop the short buildings were oozing down the support beams and foundations. The asphalt had deep cracks that cut through to the concrete underneath. However, within this desolated town, hidden in the mountains, one survivor was found. Perched on top of the church, a young adult sat, clenching onto a thickly covered book. He was unscaved, completely at peace, soaking in all that remains of the town. As the SHIELD team approached the man, he panicked. According to the reports of every SHIELD agent, the man jumped from the roof, and immediately vanished into the shadow of the holy building. Hence forward, the man from the church was given the codename The Shadow Stranger.
It was difficult for any of the technical operators to finally pick up a trail from him. The Shadow Stranger would appear in bank vault cameras in Chicago, then across the country in less than one hour in Las Vegas, gambling away the stolen money. Every time they were able to just catch a glimpse of him, he would turn a corner and disappear again. Within each glance at The Shadow Stranger, he had the thickly covered book in his hands.
Using a prototype of Project Insight, the obtainment of The Shadow Stranger was the first successful criminal to be caught with its use. There were no massive aircraft carriers to simply shoot and kill him; so Director Fury had hastily put together the best tactical team to arrest him. And, just as The Shadow Stranger emerged from a shadow in an alleyway in Boston, the team easily flanked him and confiscated the book away from him, apparently hindering him powerless. The rest was history. A simple transfer to SHIELD HeadQuarters with a small convoy quickly had The Shadow Stranger within the jurisdiction of Director Fury. The team was given specific orders to not reveal the identity of him, not even remove his trademark bandana or black baseball cap. The secret identity of The Shadow Stranger lingered the entire convoy to Washington D.C., all of the agents eager to finally see who they had been chasing for seven months.
The escort of SHIELD agents held the barrel of their respective gun at The Shadow Stranger as they led him down the maze-like passageway of HQ. With his head down, hands handcuffed behind his back, and chains wrapped around his ankles, he quickly scuttled down the empty hallway. Dim lights hung overhead, simple doorways with odd panels to to each of them, and various pipe sizes ran along the upper corners of the walls; the only sound that seemed to echo for miles was the staggered boot steps of the agents.
At the end of the hallway, the leader of the formation lifted his protective eye goggles and allowed a quick green light to scan his right eye. The corresponding door easily slid open, revealing an authoritative African American male. A black eye patch covered his left eye while a long coat hung from his strong shoulders. His hands were cupped behind his back, given a sense of military training. The Shadow Stranger briefly examined the man before tucking his chin back to his chest. Standing slightly behind the man was a curvy woman with brilliantly bright red hair. A thick utility belt wrapped around her waist fully equipped with two pistols and odd weapons unknown to the prisoner.
"Welcome to your new home," the man said, gesturing his arms outward to display the glass walls around him. "As my gracious agents have informed you, you are now under the authority of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division; otherwise known as SHIELD."
One of the rear agents poked the handcuffed prisoner forward with the barrel of his gun; The Shadow Stranger crossed the threshold and entered his cell. While he shuffled into the glass prison, the two higher ranked agents already in the cell parted to reveal a center table with two chairs. The red haired woman tightly grabbed his forearm and forced him into the chair facing away from the door. Ungracefully, The Shadow Stranger plumped down in the bolted to the ground chair. He was able to hear the door behind him slid shut and made an unnecessarily loud locking sound.
"Pardon her manners," the strong voice of the man carried around the prisoner, indicating the woman's harsh gestures, "You see, she doesn't like people who threaten her country." He sat across the table and leaned back to a relax state. The woman remained standing, crossed arm in between the two.
The Shadow Stranger held his tongue.
"My name is Nick Fury, director of SHIELD. This is Agent Romanoff," he gestured to the woman, "It would be best if you stayed on her good side, from here on out. That means, no tricks, no attempting to escape, and, for God's sake, don't look her in the eye."
He still didn't say anything, barely moving his head to show signs of consciousness.
Fury and Romanoff exchanged irritated expressions, and said nothing. "Inside this transparent prison cell, you will be monitored 24 hours a day, seven days a week. You will not be given a trial for your crimes, a jury of your peers will not decide your faith, and a lawyer will not be appointed to you. In here, what I say is law; if I want the lights to be shut down for three months, the power will immediately cut off. If I want an obnoxious crying baby soundtrack to play for a fortnight, my agents will gladly turn up the volume until it echoes in your dreams. If I want someone to slowly rip out your finger and toe nails, a line of willing agents will form outside of your door. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"
For a third time, the prisoner remained silent. Apparently, that wasn't a rhetorical question.
"Hey!" Agent Romanoff slammed her hands on the tabletop to snap some sense into The Shadow Stranger, "Answer him when he gives you a question," she warned him.
Instead of speaking a response to Director Fury, the prisoner simply nodded his head up and down, careful to not reveal too much of his face under the baseball cap. Agent Romanoff seemed to be pleased enough to lean off of the table, resuming her standby position.
"Now, getting down to business," Director Fury sighed as he flipped a skinny manilla folder onto the table, "This book of your's," he opened it and skimmed through a few photo printouts of the prisoner in various locations, "I've never seen such a thing like it. Raggedy, clearly centuries old, and, I've had the liberty of looking through it, it's completely blank. We've used any and everything to attempt to uncover it's secret value; to no avail. However, it seems that it's precious to you," Director Fury leaned onto the metal and drew closer to the prisoner, "Why is that?"
Remembering Agent Romanoff's warning, the prisoner knew better than to leave one of his questions unanswered. Again, not saying a word, he shrugged his slender shoulders.
Director Fury tilted his head, displaying increased annoyance. Interlacing his fingers together, he continued to interrogate him. "What happened in Mountain Pass, Wyoming? Why were you on the church?"
Another question replied with a weak shoulder shrug.
"I'm getting real tired of your reluctance to answer my questions," the director voiced his anger. "I'm going to ask one more question, if you refuse to vocalize your answer, I won't be accountable for Agent Romanoff's actions," she readied herself by cracking her knuckles and popping her neck; definitely intimidating The Shadow Stranger, however he forced himself to not flinch. "Now listen to me, very carefully," he narrowed his one good eye at the prisoner, "How did you start that fire in Mountain Pass?"
The director gave amble time for The Shadow Stranger to answer; although, he never did. Sighing with fake disappointment, Director Fury reclined back to his shrugged his board shoulders. "Alright, you forced my hand. Agent Romanoff," he glanced to the red haired woman.
"You don't have to tell me twice," she quickly pulled a dagger from her belt and stepped towards The Shadow Stranger. Agent Romanoff twirled the small blade in the air before gripping it firmly. With a heavy foot, she kicked the edge of his chair away and immediately drove the dagger downward. Incredible speed allowed the blade to cut through the air shortly, making a whooshing sound as the sharp weapon was stabbed into the leg of The Shadow Stranger, just above his right knee.
Using all of his might, the prisoner responded accordingly, managing to hold back the urge to scream in agony. Digging his short nails into his palms behind his back, The Shadow Stranger told level deep breaths, resisting the compulsion to cry. Agent Romanoff backed away from the hyperventilating prisoner. Because the blade was perfectly stabbed downward, none of his hot blood spilled on his wore jeans or onto the miraculous floor. He hunched over in pain, heaving his chest in a hopeless attempt to relieve the fresh torment.
"Let's try this again," Director Fury adjusted his legs under the table to a more comfortable position before finishing his sentence, "Perhaps, you can't speak with that ridiculous get-up on your face. Maybe, it's time to finally see what The Monster of Mountain Pass really looks like." He nodded to Agent Romanoff again. The dagger in his leg was crossing the line; instead of continuing to play along with Director Fury and Agent Romanoff's games, The Shadow Stranger quickly devised a plan of escape. He held himself back, waiting for the right moment. The aggressive redhead unsheathed another knife, this time, rather than stabbing it into another limb, she used it to cut the bandana from behind his head, to reveal his face. She pulled the dirty white bandana away to unveil the lower half of his pale face. Once it registered who she was looking at, she stepped back, glancing wide eyed at her director.
"Fury, d-do you see-"
"Oh my God," he gasped quietly.
Now was his chance. As the two gaped at the uncovered prisoner, he focused his hidden abilities to free himself from his handcuffs and ankle chains. Snapping his arms to his front, he quickly slammed his hands on the tabletop to focus his strength. Utilizing the shadows cast by the director and agent, he manipulated them to drag the SHIELD operatives back. Instantly gaining momentum, the shadows pulled Director Fury and Agent Romanoff to the back wall, restraining them above the ground. Their feet were pointed towards the ground, arms extended outward, and tilted heads upright to the ceiling, away from The Shadow Stranger.
While the two struggled to free themselves, their prisoner limped towards the only door, silently growling in pain for every step he took. He knew he couldn't open the door, but that wasn't going to stop him from going through it. One last glance at his pinned capturers, and a thought of revenge creeped into his mind. However, the idea was quickly extinguished as he was reminded of the last time he acted out in such a manner; the end result caused him to become a fugitive. He didn't need another lesson.
Rather than snapping their necks, or applying pressure to their hearts, he simply looked away and lifted his baseball hat off of his head. Long, wavy hair draped over his shoulders and large green eyes were revealed. He tossed the cap onto the table, as a reminder to the operatives, and used his shadow manipulation talents to ease through the door and back into the hallway.
"What is this?" Agent Romanoff growled in self-loathing. "I thought that weirdo book was the source of his abilities?"
"Apparently not," Director Fury answered matter-of-factly, "And why, in the holy hell, is The Shadow Stranger a damn woman?!"
Outside of the glass room, the revealed woman was tempted to walk into another shadow and disappear back to one of her safe houses across the country. The sudden thought of a tracking device in the dagger in her leg made her incredibly paranoid. She had no idea what SHIELD would do to find her again. Of course, it was her own will that she was caught this time; she knew they were looking for her, so she wanted to know what she was up against. Her conclusion; a bunch of crazy, skilled killers. Avoiding them at all costs was her best option. First, she would have to find somewhere to pull the dagger out and stitch up the wound. Keeping the back of her mind on holding Fury and Romanoff pinned to the wall, she began to waddle as fast as she could down the hallway.
She reached the end, only to find that there were two possible ways; left or right. She cursed at herself for not taking enough mental notes of her escort to her cell. Biting her bottom lip, The Shadow Stranger turned down the left way, and prayed that she would find an infirmary. As far as she could, she kept Fury and Romanoff against the wall while she twisted down hallways and getting completely lost. Every time she heard the pitter-patter of approaching agents, she would use one of the many shadows around her to conceal herself. With her bright green eyes, she would quietly wait until they passed or the sound would fade away.
The longer she wandered around aimlessly, the more aching pain pulsated from her lower thigh. Taking deep breaths, in between swearing at Romanoff, she soldiered on. Finding no hospital wing within the maze of passageways, The Shadow Stranger began to contemplate risking to simply returning to a safe house. Before she came to a reasonable decision, she neglected to check another corner before turning down. A squad of five or six SHIELD agents emerged, and immediately found the fugitive.
"Open fire!" One of the agents ordered.
She looked up just in time to see the squad aim their rifles at her. Faster than she should have moved, The Shadow Stranger lunged into the further wall, creating her own shadow portal. Rapidly firing bullets brushed passed her, one grazing her shoulder blade and another skimming her stomach. Ignoring the hot blood oozing from her upper back and her abdominal, she plunged into the wall and into her shadow portal. She was expecting to enter another locked room, buying her a fraction of the time she needed to successfully escape. However, the wall was much thicker than she anticipated. Her portal traveled all the way to the other side, which so happened to be an elevator shaft.
Since The Shadow Stranger essentially jumped through her portal, she became helpless as gravity kicked in. She fell through the square hole, praying that the bottom of the secret elevator shaft would come soon. Luckily, it was just over 20 feet of a straight drop. The impact didn't kill her. She resorted to leaning on the shoulder that was shot, hoping it wouldn't break from her weight.
Once she hit the ground, The Shadow Stranger felt a loud crunching sound. She couldn't hold back any longer; after inhaling adequate air, she screamed in torment. Her body was sore and bleeding. The dagger had shifted, amplifying the pain right above her knee. Laying for a few moments, she allowed salty tears to roll down her thin cheeks. Crying out in distress, she almost hoped one of the SHIELD agents would find her and put her out of her misery. Slightly rolling to one side, she carefully applied pressure to her throbbing shoulder. As tender as it was, she was able to determine that it probably wasn't broken; at least, she desperately wanted it to not be broken.
Grunting and moaning in agony, she forced herself to sit upright. Constant tears streamed down away from her eyes, but she was still able to examine her surroundings. There wasn't wires in the middle of the shaft, so that meant she didn't land on an elevator. Obviously, she was engulfed in darkness, forcing her vision to adjust so she could properly see. As her pupils were dilating, The Shadow Stranger saw a door shut next to her.
"Get up," she gave herself small motivation, "Get up and leave. You're not dying here."
After two attempts of standing, she was successful, to an extent. She relied heavily on the walls around her to keep her upright on her feet. The Shadow Stranger knew she would knew be able to pry the door open with her physical strength, so she focused on her on the shadows and used those to pry the door open. Struggling to step onto the higher platform, she resorted to leaning on her sore upper body to inch the rest of her upward. No matter how she wiggled and squirmed, her shoulder would provide a shooting pain, her stomach left a trail of red blood underneath, and her knee felt as though it was going to pop off.
"C'mon," she breathed to herself, "Dammit, use your survival skills. Don't rely on your powers," she reminded herself of the consequences of overuse of her abilities; she would lose control. Edging her legs onto the platform, she eased the shadows away from the doors, to quietly close them. Paranoia in sewed her mind once again; assuming to find a waiting squad of SHIELD agents, she glanced around to see a simple, short hallway. At the end was a circular hole with vertical bars covering the majority of the entrance. A door was cut out in the middle, allowing people to pass through. "No where else to go," she concluded.
Pushing her sore body to use the wall for support, she carefully looked through the bars, checking the room thoroughly because she had learned her lesson last time. It was empty with a computer hooked into the far wall and a slightly raised deck next to it. A large cylinder with a window was wired with thick coils that lead from the walls. On the opposite, a strange device that had a bench for someone to lay on was placed. It looked like a medieval torture machine, only with electricity. Counters with drawers lined the edge, and a small operating table was adjacent to the terrifying machine. There wasn't a SHIELD agent in the room.
"Finally alone," she exhaled loudly. The Shadow Stranger dragged her feet as she entered the room and forced herself to walk freely in order to completely avoid the torturous looking device.
The first drawer she opened was a pile of mouth guards. She shuddered at the idea of using one. Shutting it and moving onto the next one, keeping her right hand firmly on her left shoulder, providing an unsteady cast for it. Horribly sharp looking instruments were in the second one. The next one held a variety of strange tools; none of which looked like she could use to stitch up her shoulder and stomach.
"Dammit, there has to be gauze, or super glue here," she bit her lip again, slowly getting dizzy from the constant barrage of pain. In the fourth drawer were notebooks and writing utensils. "Stick glue would suffice."
An unknown forced caused her to look at the cylinder up the platform; just barely through the window, which was lined with ice, she saw a man. The Shadow Stranger thought her mind was playing tricks on her; so, on pure curiosity, she waddled her way to the cylinder. With foggy eyes and a hazy brain, she just barely made out a man's face. He looked so peaceful, sleeping in there. She wondered why he was in there, but she felt that he could help her.
Under the glass, there was an automatic lock; she followed the wire around the cylinder to the computer on the desk. "No time," she whispered. Bringing her stable hand away from her aching shoulder, she placed it directly above the lock. Shutting her green eyes and focusing the surrounding shadows to bend inside the mechanism, she applied the rest of her will to unlocking the man. Her tiny bones in her hands slightly popped out as she bend the shadows in the complicated lock. With the last of her will power, the device entrapping the man loudly unlocked. The Shadow Stranger gasped as the man was released; she collapsed to the hard ground. Staggered breaths escaped her lips, causing her body to shake from poor circulation. Her hand twitched violently, her vision became dark and blurry, and her painful wounds all over her body stung twice as bad. All she wanted to do was move, to simply go home and keep her head down for the rest of her life. Avoiding SHIELD would have become her life mission. Now, she might not ever get that chance. Her body was shutting down from shock as she felt her mind ease further into unconsciousness.
Just as she lost all hope, a chillingly ice cold hand was placed on her throbbing shoulder. She couldn't see who had touched her, but she guessed that it was the man from the cylinder. Although The Shadow Stranger couldn't clearly see, she opened her eyes as wide as she could to plead upward to him. The last words she was able to communicate clearly was, "Please, help me."