Summary: A long time ago the world found out about mutants. Fury put together a team of mutants for SHIELD. Then Budapest happened. Then the Avengers happened. Then the rest of their lives happened. This is Alpha Strike's story. AU!
The meeting room of the Helicarrier had a huge screen in the centre and twelve shadowy figures on the screen. In the middle of the room was a huge table, bearing the SHIELD logo. Sat around that table were five different people. They were Nick Fury, director of SHIELD and his top four agents, Phil Coulson, Maria Hill, Jasper Sitwell and Jessica Drew.
"The mutant problem…" began one shadowy figure.
Fury interrupted. "The mutant problem can be solved. If we have a team that are mutants we can combat the problem."
"Who do you suggest?" asked another shadowy figure.
"We have five possible recruits."
"Then get recruiting."
The screen switched off and the five rose to their feet.
"You all know who you're recruiting. Go." said Fury.
They all left the meeting room.
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Logan lifted his head as he listened to the roar of men around the cage. Seventeen and cage-fighting for a living. What a fuckin' fantastic life. He shook himself as his next competitor entered the cage. Two minutes later and the man was unconscious or dead. Logan didn't care either way. After he jumped out of the cage he walked into the bar to get his money. He reassured himself with a quick glance and a sniff that neither Victor nor any cops were hanging round. Though it was hard to track him, so far in the last… seven years. Had it really been seven years since he'd killed his father? He collected his wages and headed out to his truck. It wasn't much and he hadn't actually passed his driving test. Why waste money?
"Nice fighting… Logan."
Logan whipped round, his claws itching to come out. The speaker stepped into view. He was tall, with a bald head and an eye-patch. Logan almost laughed but the man seemed… intimidating somehow.
"Thanks. Ya shoulda bet on me."
The man laughed. "I did. Heavily. And if this works it'll be incredible."
Logan raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound like mere money.
"I know what you can do Logan. Or should I say James Howlett?"
Logan's insides turned to ice. "I don't know what ya talkin' bout."
The man smiled. "Are you saying you didn't stab your father with the six bone claws in your hands? I understand why you did it Logan. Your mother, the only person that ever showed you kindness, was dead, more than likely killed by your brother or father. They carried on using you as a punching bag. You got angry. Then you disappeared. You caused quite a stir when you were ten. You've learnt to control your powers now. I'd hate to see what a seventeen-year-old you could do."
Logan leaned against his truck and lit a cigar. His hand shook and he quickly hid it. This guy was no ordinary cop. There was a huge chance he'd get shot again. It hurt but he'd heal. He always did.
"I want you to join a team I'm putting together. It's called the Alpha Strike Team. A team of mutants with similar histories to you fighting the bad guys."
"Why should I join ya? I don't even know ya name or who ya workin' fer."
"I'm Fury. Director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division."
"That's a mouthful."
Fury smiled again. "We call ourselves SHIELD. So, are you in?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Of course you do."
Logan and Fury looked at each other, both silently acknowledging that they knew Fury's last words had been bullshit.
"When do I start?"
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Clint lifted his head as he heard the roar of the crowd. His act had just finished. For most people running away to the circus sounded incredibly romantic and glamorous. For a fifteen-year-old Clint it was hell. He got to his feet and began to leave the big top.
"Hey! Where are you goin'?" asked Barney aggressively.
"I was gonna go and get cleaned up. My act's over." said Clint.
Keeping calm was about the only thing Clint knew how to do, other than shoot arrows and swear.
"Tough." snarled Barney as he stepped closer to Clint. "You gotta stay here 'til the circus is over."
With that he pushed Clint to the floor. Clint stayed lying on the floor until his brother had left and one of the clowns gave him a hand up.
"You OK?" asked the clown worriedly.
"Been worse."
After the show was over Clint headed to Swordsman's train car. He pushed it open in time to see Barney and Swordsman splitting a huge amount of money.
"Where did you get that?"
"None of your business." sneered Barney.
Just then Clint remembered the ringmaster getting robbed.
"You robbed the circus!"
Swordsman snatched up a blade and Clint ran for his life. Weaving his way through the debris of circus life he ended up in the big top. Barney and Swordsman appeared from both entrances.
"You killed Buck, didn't you? He found out what you were doin' and you killed him!"
"Oui." said Swordsman calmly.
Clint tried to run but Swordsman had already crossed the gap and stabbed him in the leg. Barney followed up by drawing out a blade. Then there was a shout and both men turned their heads. Clint didn't glance round. He limped away as fast as his leg would allow.
"Get him!" shouted Swordsman.
Barney came barrelling after him. Clint grabbed a Coke can that somebody had left and threw it in Barney's face. That only made the older boy madder. He grabbed Clint by his arm and broke it. Clint could hear the arm crack. He kicked out and Barney slashed the leg with his knife. Then the blade sliced across his throat. There was a loud bang but it hardly registered with Clint. Barney laughed.
"You're dead now baby brother. Dead. How does that feel?"
There was another loud bang and Barney stumbled away. Clint looked up blearily.
"Hi. My name's Phil."
Phil came into view as a man, average height, average build. Hell, he even wore average clothes. Everything about the guy was designed to be forgettable. Clint grunted slightly as his vision began to blur.
"I came to ask you to join a team. A team of highly trained people with powers like you have."
Clint's leg felt like it was on fire, his side was white-hot and his throat… his throat burned worse than the others. He could barely speak and only with immense effort did he work out what Phil was saying.
"I…how… did…"
"I know?" finished Phil helpfully. "We've been watching you for a year. Will you join?"
Clint replied thickly, "Don't… have…much… choice."
With that Phil got out a cell phone and pressed a button.
"I need a medical team. Multiple stab wounds, one to the leg, one to the side and one to the throat."
Then Clint heard no more.
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Natasha didn't bother looking behind as the fire went up. People screamed but she kept walking away.
"That's suspicious." said a woman.
Natasha whipped round to look at the tall black-haired woman smirking at her.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Natasha replied.
"Sure you don't… Black Widow."
Natasha starts to draw her gun but the woman sends out a web string, wraps it round Natasha's gun and jerks it back. The woman smiles slightly.
"I'm impressed. But next time, look at what you've caused. That way it diverts suspicion. Which reminds me, I'm Agent Drew of SHIELD. I've been sent to recruit you for Alpha Strike Team. They're a team of mutants, just like you."
Natasha looked at Agent Drew and realised that she could sense no lie. The woman was telling the truth. And suddenly, Natasha wanted to go with her and have a different life. At least in this one she'd have a team.
"Alright. Let's go."
Drew smiled.
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Piotr lifted his head as he heard screams coming from the commune. His first thought was that Ivan Onatopp was back and ready to kill. Piotr rushed out to see the sight he was having nightmares about. Russian soldiers were racing all over the commune, burning and shooting. His brother, Mikhail, was an enemy of the State and the State was determined to kill him. Piotr ran forwards, his skin turning to metal as he ran. He passed several dead friends in time to see Mikhail fall to the ground with a bullet wound in his forehead.
"Piotr… I… am… sorry…"
With that he was gone. Piotr didn't stop to hug him or cry. He turned and snapped the soldier's neck. Then he grabbed the machine gun and emptied the clip at several more soldiers. Charging through the burning commune he saw his father lying dead on the ground. His expression was one of acute pain. So Piotr ran on, tossing soldiers aside, snapping their necks and backs. His mother was dead, curled around Illyana to protect her.
"Little Snowflake." said Piotr softly as he knelt down.
Illyana looked up at him and lifted her hand. It was covered in blood.
"I cut myself. It hurts."
Her eyes closed. Piotr got to his feet, grabbed a gun and started shooting again. By now he'd stopped caring about if more soldiers came, how hated he would become; he just wanted to slaughter the people that had killed his family.
"Very impressive." said an American man in Russian.
Piotr turned, gun raised. "Who are you?"
The man replied, "Agent Sitwell. Let me explain. I'm here to ask you if you want to join Alpha Strike Team. It's a team of people with abilities like you. Are you joining?"
"Da."
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Kurt fled for his life as he heard the angry villagers behind him, shouting about demons. He flew over the bridge. An arm grabbed him and yanked him under the bridge. Looking round he saw a woman with a gun out, her eyes serious.
"Danke."
"My name's Agent Hill." said the woman, completely ignoring his thanks. "I'm here to recruit into a specialist team called Alpha Strike. It's a group of people with unique abilities like you. What do you say Kurt?"
Kurt blinked. That sounded good. Hopefully there would be no crazy people insisting he was a psychotic demon that killed them in their sleep and drank blood.
"Ja."
"Then get us out of here."
Kurt grabbed her hand and they vanished with a loud bang and puff of blue smoke.
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Fury glanced over at his oldest recruit. Logan looked in a foul mood. He'd been given more time to grab all his stuff and leave, not that there was much. He was wearing a black Stetson, a white shirt that had a small tear in it, blue jeans that were also torn thanks to many cage fights, a battered leather jacket and heavy boots. A shotgun was strapped on his back and a wide belt that bore several signs of use. Fury knew that Logan used to wrap it round his hand to help restrict his claws.
"When do the others get here?" asked Logan harshly.
"Soon."
Fury actually found it sad that most of a seventeen-year-old boy's clothes were torn and ripped. He also found it sad that Logan bound his hands to stop his claws bursting out.
"I hear 'em." said Logan suddenly.
The door swung open and Logan got his first look at a mutant that wasn't related to him and didn't want to beat the shit out of him. The boy was younger and smaller than Logan. His sandy blond hair was spiked and his blue eyes were dark and intense. His shirt was purple and had a rip around the neckline. His sleeveless jacket looked a little too big for him, like it was bought for someone else and then given to him. His jeans were faded and ripped in various places, not by design Logan suspected. His blue and purple sneakers had spots of blood on them. In one hand he had a bow and on his back he had a quiver full of arrows. His left arm was in a sling. He had a bandage across his throat. Logan could smell a familiar kind of pain.
"Hi." said the boy before sitting stiffly in a seat. His voice was scratchy and raw.
"I'm Agent Phil Coulson James, I'm going to be your handler." said the agent that had accompanied him in.
"Logan. I hate the name James."
The boy gave him a dazzling smile. "I'm Clint. Clint Barton. So… Jamie."
Logan looked at Clint and replied, "James Howlett but like I said, I hate the name James. Everybody calls me Logan."
Clint countered, "I didn't call you James. I called you Jamie."
Coulson and Fury exchanged glances. Then the door swung open again and a girl walked in. Her clothes were jet black from her jacket to her shirt to the holster on her hip to the slacks to the sneakers. The only things that weren't black were her hair and skin. Her eyes were bright green and her hair was bright red. Unbidden, an image of Rose drifted into his mind. Logan shoved the image away, reminding himself that Rose had never worn a gun and didn't have a permanent scowl.
"Hi." said Clint in his scratchy voice. "I'm Clint Barton and that's Jamie."
Logan scowled. "My name's James Howlett but everybody calls me Logan. So ignore that dick."
The girl nodded and allowed a flash of smile to cross her face. "I'm Natasha Romanoff."
Clint put his hand to his throat and said, "I'm Batman."
It made his voice deeper. Logan and Natasha exchanged looks before bursting out laughing. Clint grinned, delighted that he'd made someone laugh. The door swung open again and in walked a boy and an agent. The boy made even Logan whistle.
"Damn."
The boy sat down on a chair and it creaked. Clint felt like a ten-year-old next to the two far taller boys.
"I am Piotr Rasputin."
Piotr was wearing clothes that seemed too big for even him. His grey T-shirt was stretched and his jeans baggy. His heavy black boots were the only things that weren't too big. Logan introduced himself and Clint, sparing Clint from talking. The pain meds were wearing off and talking was hurting more and more. His side was beginning to ache and his leg was starting to burn. He glanced up at Coulson, hoping to make him realise without having to use his vocal chords. Coulson got the message and handed the pills over with water.
"What are they for?" asked Piotr.
Clint pointed to his throat and arm. Piotr nodded and then the door opened yet again. This time a blue boy bounded in. Clint was unfazed by it; he'd worked in the circus and seen stranger stuff. He had a heavy brown trench coat over his red shirt and faded jeans.
"You can take your coat off." said Hill.
The boy shrugged it off, revealing a tail. The team were introduced to each other again and Fury got to his feet.
"Well, welcome to the Alpha Strike Team."