"Have you ever flown in a private jet, Rogue?" Nick asked as he permitted, out of a gentleman's sense of politeness, Rogue to go up the steep steps first. He wasn't a gentleman, really, but wanted to treat Rogue right just in case Jarhead heard about it. Sure, the woman had valuable skills, but it was her man he wanted to haul in. If I could get my hands on him, global terrorism will see an instant thirty percent decrease. Nick knew that he would have to be very subtle about his attempts to recruit him. Frank was no fool nor suffered them, either.
"Can't say as Ah have. Ah'm sure it'll be a blast." Rogue responded. She took a front row seat and kept an eye on Fury. "What will Ah be learning at Parris Island?" She informed him of what she did know: orienteering, gun maintenance, survival, close quarter combat and her favorite: sniping. "One shot, one kill is what Ah learned."
"After I appraise what you can do in marksmanship, I'll decide what gun courses you'll take. If you're as good as Castle says, you might not need any. You'll learn paratrooping, then go on to the advanced course: HALO. That's dangerous, though, so we won't do much of that. I'd advise you to pay attention. You'll also have a few classes in providing first aid, improvised combat and stealth techniques. I'll add that you will be dealing with some sensitive equipment, so a class in how to repair the tech while in the field will be mandatory."
"So what branch of the CIA will Ah actually be in?"
"S.W.O.R.D. Sentient world observation and response department. The sister branch of S.H.I.E.L.D." Nick thought of what else he could tell her. Rogue was a sensitive and shrewd young lady, a delightful smart ass too, and he thought she deserved to have a hint of what was going on. "Things have been going on that I'm not too keen about. I've heard stories of villages being plundered. Not simply for valuables, but for women and girls almost old enough to be considered women. There's rumblings of an increase in human trafficking, specifically the sex part of it."
"Oh God, that's gross." Rogue grimaced. "You don't have to train me. Just send me out there and Ah'll pump them full of bullet holes."
"I admire your enthusiasm, but you will be trained. You'll be assigned with two other soldiers to form a fireteam." Nick poured himself a double shot of Scotch and gestured for Rogue to help herself to the bar. She chose, wisely, a mineral water. He approved. She passed a test.
"Will it be like true basic training?" Rogue asked.
"No. The others will have had an extensive military background, so there will be some privileges not normally accorded. Keep your head down and do as the others do. Make friends, because these people could have your life in their hands." Nick advised the young woman.
Rogue watched as the world flew by and the terrain changed. "What about living accommodations?"
"Everyone will have a small—and I mean small—bed and bath chamber. Breakfast will be served at five, over at five thirty and classes begin promptly at six."
When they landed, Nick wasted no time in whisking them off to the Marine base. After leaving her belongings in her room—Nick wasn't joking, Rogue said to herself—she was rushed off to the mandatory health check.
She ran on a treadmill, electrodes stuck on her skin for a half hour. She had her vitals taken, blood pressure and pulse. Eyes and ears were examined. Rogue put up being checked over with her customary good humor. No sense in getting worked up. Ah needed a good medical exam anyway. The doctor then left the room to make notes and confer with Nick, she supposed.
As the medical assistant finished drawing her blood, as the doctor came back in with most of the results. "You are in fine health, everything is in tip top shape. I'll send the results to Fury." The older gentleman, gray in his hair and with silver eyes, gave her a friendly clap to the shoulder. Okaaaay, she thought with some irritation. Some people's children, Ah swear, have no sense of boundaries.
With that business concluded, she was released back out into the lobby. From there, she was shown where the more important locations were, like the mess hall and the administration building. It was seven o'clock before she was led off to the firing range to test her marksmanship, which she passed with flying colors.
"If I hadn't known better, I'd say you were trained in the Corps as a Marine Scout sniper." Frank Castle hadn't lied or exaggerated. The young woman was good and Nick relaxed a little. He wistfully thought he'd love to have Castle on board, for the millionth time.
"Well, my instructor was and he became certified to teach others, but you know that. So Ah am one in all but name." Rogue chatted to him as she briefly cleaned out the rifle and stashed it back in the locked armory. "That reminds me. What should Ah tell people if they ask about my background."
Nick gestured for her to follow him to the mess hall, where dinner was yet being served though, by now, it would be slim pickings. "Let them know you worked for an independent security firm and that you cannot disclose the name. That'll keep them quiet."
Rogue eyeballed the food. It didn't seem that bad. Better than the MRE's that Frank was probably going to nosh on until she came back with real grub. She stood in line and received a tray of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and jello. Nick said that he would grab something later. She envisioned him eating a nice, juicy steak chased by a shot of Jack Daniels. She quickly downed her meal and bused her own tray.
"We have a few things to do at the admin building, such as get your photo ID and dog tags. You will be required to wear them on base at all times. Those are my direct orders." Rogue shuffled after Nick and sat at his borrowed desk while they filled out paperwork. Including life insurance. "Just give it to Frank. Give everything to Frank in the event that something happens to me." He then slid the shiny dog tags and the laminated ID toward her. She put them both on per Nick's instructions.
"Put one of the tags in your boot when you get back to your room." Nick suggested.
Rogue thought she could guess the reason why, but didn't want to ask. Ah'll do it. Ah do hope this means Ah won't get blown up. The clock chimed ten times as she glanced at it. Exhaustion washed through her, but she stayed awake. Barely.
When they wrapped up the rest of the legal paperwork, Nick told her gruffly to head off to her room. He escorted her part of the way, the base was large and he didn't want her to get lost, but close enough so that she easily could stumble into her new quarters. "Remember. Get up at five, eat, then come back here to be assigned your fireteam."
Rogue managed to peel off her clothes before tumbling head first into bed. She pulled the covers over herself and slept the sleep of the blessed.
# # #
"This is Eleanor and Kevin." David said as he introduced two of his children to Frank. Once he talked to Kevin, the young man had insisted on meeting him. Dad, Kevin insisted, he's a hero to the SEALS. I HAVE to make his acquaintance, even if it is just once. David disclosed everything to his grown offspring. They were curious and slightly envious. He knows Nick Fury? Kevin had asked and David nodded. Another hero, apparently.
A few days ago, David asked Frank if he even wanted to be introduced. There was a heavy pause before Frank said "Yes.", as if he desired to say no, but unable to resist this chance.
Trent was enrolled in a good Catholic school, near the brownstone David so recently inherited and that gave the four of them to gather privately.
Frank studied the two of them, one blonde and the other dark haired. Both young people seemed so glad and eager to meet him, though the woman possessed a seriousness beyond her tender years. Kevin extended his hand and Frank shook it. Kevin, easy going and friendly, showed no sign of trouble to Frank. Eleanor, though, made a ping on his radar. He thought she would adapt perhaps too well to the military life. Something undefinable disturbed—or was that too strong of a word? —him about his granddaughter.
Kevin went on to say it was an honor to meet him and that Frank was well regarded in the SEALs. He pointed to the badge on his uniform: GOD WILL JUDGE OUR ENEMIES. WE'LL ARRANGE THE MEETING. A skull—HIS skull—was in the center.
This bothered him. He was no role model, no one to emulate. "What's wrong with Captain America? He was my hero, when I was young."
"He's army." Kevin said. "He's a good guy and all, but his methods don't work. At least not for long. Yours do."
"There's a website devoted to you on the internet. Hell, several websites." Eleanor chimed in. "With alleged testimonials and all. The real fanatics call themselves Punisherologists, and they go back and forth all day about you." She left out the part about the autopsy photos since that would upset him. She'd talk to her dad later on and see what he could do to yank them off.
Frank just grunted, entirely ill at ease that he had people putting him on a pedestal that he neither deserved or sought to be on. He thought it was bad enough Rogue was on a similar path and worried enough about her. Captain America's goodness represented the values of his time, of when I was old enough to hear stories from Father. Does that mean what I believe and what I represent are becoming America's new ideals? Frank understood full well that he was not a philosopher, but he considered this to be a troubling development and decided to file it away when he had time to properly think about it.
Eleanor and Kevin shot a quizzical look at each other. Their 'grandfather', who by sheer physical appearance, really could be mistaken for Kevin's brother, seemed lost in thoughts unpleasant. They didn't understand why.
He ached to tell them that he wanted them to run for the hills, and to get the hell out of the military. He barely knew them, but he wanted a better life for his grandchildren. Sure, Frank could have given them his views on how the government used up and spit out the hapless men and women that became caught up in the cogs of the miliary. He should have mentioned the fifty thousand vets homeless on the streets, without families and homes and hope. Some of them were crazy and neglected by the government. He even could have pounded it into them about justice was denied him because of corruption. But, he didn't. They probably wouldn't be able to grasp the complexities of his various experiences. Not because they were dumb, they had smarts despite both of them willingly embracing the military, but due to their youth.
"Just keep your heads down and always wear your helmets, kids. Don't sass your drill sergeant, either. Unless you want to end up doing push-ups for the rest of your life." Was what Frank managed to say. Gruffly. He wasn't about to discuss 'Nam with them or Maria or Lisa, but he did listen as they talked about themselves and their lives.
When the two young people left to go pick up Trent from school, he turned to David and said. "Watch out for Eleanor. She's lacking something inside. I don't believe it's due to anything you did. She just is what she is."
David's blue eyes turned stormy. "I know and I can't stop it. She'll be off to boot camp tomorrow. Kevin's off tomorrow as well. He passed all the tests and there is no nerve damage."
# # #
A knock at the door of Fisk's apartment broke the serenity of the moment. Wilson Fisk had been enjoying some Mozart and a glass of Cognac while watching the fire crackle in the fireplace. This ritual was like a meditation to him. It restored what meager strand of a soul he possessed and tried so hard to keep. This interruption, however, was anticipated and even welcomed.
He gave a short nod to his butler, a new man by the name of Jason, and watched as his employee opened the heavy oak doors. Three blue ladies walked in. All of them strongly resembled Mystique, though he discerned through sharp eyes, they had some differences between them. On purpose, he suspected, and that was fair enough. One had long red hair and curves that would not quit, one had short pure white tresses, and the other one's hair bore a shade of light blue. There were other alterations as well, their body types ranged from skinny to a Marilyn Monroe like voluptuousness.
There was a fourth one created, too, but per the agreement he made with the Hand, they kept her. Wilson also gave them five million dollars as a token of his gratitude.
The red headed one smiled, so like HIS Mystique, "Yes, I prefer to be called Mystique. The one with the white hair we call Nightshade and the last one is Fatale."
The process had taken some time and considerable effort, which Wilson appreciated, and viewing the results, it had been more than worth the expense. They were conditioned to fight, he had been assured, and retained all the original Mystique's abilities. However, stage one of his plan was not quite in place yet. He needed to somehow set New York City's fiercest vigilantes against one another and the bald man came up with the perfect plan.
But first, the Kingpin had a series of meetings with a foreign dignitary, who he had dealings with in the past. The dignitary wanted another way to ship weapons into the city for his men, who, he informed Kingpin, had been stateside for quite some time. In fact, they had been working on that when the rather large shipment of illegal guns was intercepted by the FBI. But, this particular person was being more forceful, more insistent. He required them to finally meet as he had an offer to make. Wilson, intrigued, opted to put his other plans on hold until he heard what this potential partner could possibly give him.
# # #
Rogue made the acquaintance of her teammates, Antonio del Toro and Robert Lowe, after breakfast. They were friendly and she permitted herself to form a comradery with them. Both were drafted from the Marines. Del Toro came from infantry, the 2nd Battalion 2nd Marines—nicknamed the Timberwolf—and Lowe hailed from the 1st reconnaissance battalion.
She learned about them while Nick went over the other fireteams and gave them their learning assignments. Antonio del Toro wasn't married but he had a family of five brothers and three sisters. Parents who loved him very much, she learned. Lowe showed them a picture of his wife and newborn twin boys.
"So what about you, Lori? Are you seeing anyone? Got any family? Any kids?" Del Toro asked her. He wasn't particularly curious as he was gay, but he wanted to get to know her better.
"Ah am. And before you ask, he's an ex-Marine." She blushed. "For kin, Ah have a half-brother, no children. Ah'm not sure Ah want any at this stage in my life."
"No such thing as a former Marine ma'am. Once a Marine, it's in your blood for life." Robert informed her with a grin at her blush.
Maybe it was true. He still had many of the habits Ah suspect he picked up in the service. "Ah reckon you're probably right. Ah'll just call him a retired Marine and let it go at that."
Nick sauntered up to them with his usual cocksure stride and told them what to do, with a measured tone of a seasoned commander of personnel. "For your first week: Marksmanship until 9, then first aid. After that, close quarters combat and stealth technique training until quitting time. You will be doing KP duty from 5:30 to 6:00. After that, the time is yours to use as you see fit. Del Toro and Lowe will show you where the rec hall is."
The day went on as described by the crusty soldier. The instructor for Marksmanship was suitably impressed with her accuracy and marked her down as the sniper for the fireteam. Nick had thought that would be her role, but was pleased at the confirmation from the specialist. Del Toro would take on the assault role and Lowe assumed communications and was surprisingly adept at field medicine. Rogue, as mentioned, would be the sniper scout.
Rogue spent some time at the rec hall to wind down before taking a shower and hitting the hay. She watched as the others laughed and played a video game called Call of Duty. Lowe roped her into playing a round.
"God bless it." She swore as she died for the umpteenth time. When someone tried to take the controller away, she shot him a glance. "Just one last time." The other agents of S.W.O.R.D laughed knowingly. She proceeded to do better against the other participants and she got hooked on it.
The clock chimed ten times when she dragged herself off to her personal quarters. She spied a pay phone. She dialed up the number of Frank's message service, not daring to dial his personal disposable phone. That, he stressed, was for emergencies only. "Ah'm doing ok here. The day went well and Ah'm getting along with people. It'll be hard work, but Ah ain't ever been afraid of a little sweat. Ah miss and Ah love you." She hung up then prepared herself for bed and the next go-round of training.