NICK FURY'S AVENGERS-PART 1-LEADERS PROMOTE LEADERSHIP
Nick Fury doesn't really have an office (or a home for that matter). The one he is co-opting right now is in a sub-basement of The Pentagon. The previous tenant left behind a desk and a chair, and there are plenty of AC outlets for him to plug in his various electronics, including a large coffee urn. He would camp here for the afternoon, then head to the New Mexico desert at dinnertime.
He had a lot going on-in the U.S. and around the world. The progress he had made in two years had been astounding to the small handful of individuals who had seen him start from nothing…
Two years prior, Fury was reinstated as the Director of SHIELD to resuscitate the organization. Since his departure years before, several Directors had attempted to build it in their own images. The cumulative result was a watered-down, overstaffed bloat of tax dollars that served no real purpose except to back up the FBI and CIA in missions involving "gifted" super-criminals. The current Presidential Administration had reviewed the history of the organization, and had come to the conclusion that Fury had been the only leader to ever distinguish SHIELD from the other dozens of Black Ops entities employed over the years. Apologies were issued, by way of a blank check and almost complete autonomy in building SHIELD into a viable force once again. The risk/reward ratio was high, though…if he failed, SHIELD would be folded, and Fury would be dealt with appropriately…whatever that meant. There was zero margin for failure.
There are "normal" SHIELD employees, although not many. But the core of Fury's rebuilding effort was to reform the Avengers.
Fury's vision of the Avengers was specific –they were to be the centerpiece of the "new" SHIELD, exclusively a division of the organization-but without any additional Government restraint. No "special clearances" subject to months of review, no interference in recruitment and membership. Fury accepted full responsibility for their actions. Failure meant not only did his current run as the head of SHIELD was over, but the long and illustrious history of the Avengers likely also came to a final close. For that reason, he was very selective in his choices for membership. No Thunder Gods, no androids, no aliens from a distant galaxy. If things went south for anyone on this team, a quick and surgical solution needed to be feasible.
The landscape of super-powered beings had changed, become fragmented. There were no Avengers, no Fantastic Four. The X-Men appeared to be undergoing some sort of internal political rift that divided them into several splinter groups. Many familiar heroes became fed up with the high-risk-no reward nature of the work. Some walked away due to personal loss. Those that had hoped to keep fighting the good fight were trying to do it on their own, with mixed results. Locating and monitoring them was one of Fury's current ongoing projects. Without the galvanization of a group purpose, the bad guys were winning the global battle. Norman Osborne was accumulating assets and technology in the States. Von Doom was making noise in Europe. On Genosha, the partnership of Xavier, Lenshurr and Namor was growing its ranks-although it was impossible to tell if they were a threat or an ally. The Hulk was, as usual running loose, leaving a wake of personal and property damage.
In addition to a core field team of Avengers, Fury planned to place several other super-powered agents throughout the globe in strategic hot spots. Some of these agents would be deployed to simply observe and report activities. Some would act as liaisons or diplomats. Some would have more actionable agendas.
The final component of Fury's reorganizational plan was a Research and Development Team. All four of the current members of R and D had long resumes as superheroes-and were also amongst the most brilliant scientific minds in the world. Their role was to "Think Tank" technical solutions to SHIELD tasks, and in the cases of extreme emergency, go into the field as members of the Avengers. Fury has targeted a fifth member for R and D, and this person's recruitment and indoctrination is the highest immediate priority for both the field Avengers and the R and D team.
Staffing R and D was Fury's first action. He needed technological support to help him build his other teams, find opportunities for them, arm them properly and monitor global Hot Spots. He found the leader of R and D in Turkey- drunk, in disguise, and going by the name "Howard Obadiah".
As far as the rest of the world knew, Tony Stark had vanished shortly after the Senate hearings regarding his business dealings with countries who were not necessarily friends of the United States. He liquidated his own assets and emptied all of his bank accounts, which placed the Savings and Loan industry into a brief tailspin. Stark Industries was absorbed by Osborne Chemicals in a hostile takeover that many believed had put Norman Osborne at the brink of bankruptcy. Osborne had a major lawsuit pending against Stark regarding certain intellectual properties that he felt now belonged to him. Those properties went into hiding with Stark.
Fury caught up with Stark in a "private" men's club in Istanbul. The hair was shoulder-length and bleached white, the trademark goatee was gone-but the roulette wheel and the single-malt scotch were befriending him in ways that the US Government, Norman Osborne and his former teammates never could.
Stark was enroute to a Croupier to cash in a large ornate bucket of chips when Fury stopped him. Club security initially closed in, but Fury flashed his high level Government Security ID, and they all silently vanished. He knew he would undoubtedly be monitored electronically for the duration of his stay at the club. He took Stark by the arm and ushered him to a corner table.
Stark's sarcasm reflected that this wasn't a happy reunion from his perspective, "So…have you come to haul my sorry ass back to the States to pay for my past indiscretions?"
"I came to offer you a job."
Stark looked Fury squarely in his one good eye and sifted his hand through the bucket of gaming chips. "There's about $300, 00.00 American in here. I made it in about 45 minutes. I'm not sure what your proposed pay scale is, but…"
"I've been reinstated as the Director of SHIELD. I need you to head up an organizational Think Tank. You'll actually be paid zero…zip…zilch. But you will have every need taken care of, and a chance to work with the most brilliant minds in the world. And all those nasty ol' outstanding warrants will all go away."
Stark openly laughed, "C'mon Nick…I don't exactly have a great history of working and playing well with others. I'm a hedonist. Everything I do is self-serving. And I like it that way. I like how I live right now."
"The way you live right now won't last fer long. Brilliant as you are, you absolutely suck at goin' underground. Hell, the CIA even knows who 'Howard Obadiah' is. I had ta negotiate like a sonofabitch to get first crack at ya. If ya turn my offer down, I got no control over what The Spooks might do…"
"Look Fury-you don't scare me, OK? The CIA. Please."
"Fine. At least I can say I gave it a shot. Go back to yer game, Stark…and wonder what ya coulda come up with leadin' the best group o' big brains every assembled. They'll do just fine without ya…an' I'll make sure that the whole world knows they did it without any help from ya."
Stark slumped slightly in his chair, gaze still fixed on Fury. "Who have you got, Nick?"
"Pym. I'll get Richards if I can find him. McCoy is in San Francisco with the subversive splinter of the X-Men, but he'll come for the facility I've had built. Big improvement over what he and his Mutie buddy Worthington can spring for. An' I'll get Banner as soon as th' rest of 'em figure out how to keep him from trashin' an entire city every time he breaks the lead in his mechanical pencil."
"So basically, your R and D Team right now is a violent schizophrenic who can make himself 25 feet tall. We get the Internet here in Paradise, Nick. Richards has been MIA since his ex-wife got capped. McCoy is on everyone's Most Wanted List, along with every other Mutant in the free world. The last time anyone saw Banner, he was bushing his teeth with a redwood tree. "
"I know where Richards is. I need you to get him out and make sure he doesn't go back."
"Get him 'out' of where, Fury?"
"The Negative Zone, we think. There is evidence that suggests that he was tryin' ta kill himself. He may have been successful. We won't know until someone goes in to look".
A low whistle emitted from Stark. Then he sighed. "Why do you need me to reel him in? I would think that his FF buddies would be a lot more experienced with what someone might find in there".
"Listen there are only two people in the World that know how to operate Richards' Negative Zone Portal. One of 'ems already in there and the other one's busy tryin' to take over Europe. I need someone who (A) is smart enough ta figure out how that portal works and (B) is a big enough bullshitter to talk him out. ..if he's alive, that is. You were th' first guy I thought of".
Stark grinned, "Given your criteria, I had better have been the only guy you thought of".
Fury returned the grin, "As for his 'FF Buddies', there's one left. Grimm. He's at the Baxter Building now with Jennifer Walters. They're waiting to go find Richards…or his body, at least. They need someone ta open th' door for them. Storm is too busy dominatin' International Auto Racing to be bothered."
Stark folded his arms across his chest and gazed at a slowly turning ceiling fan for several moments. He knew that John Storm had retired permanently from the spandex crowd when an assassin's bullets had dropped his his sister, niece and nephew. Stark's fascination in fast cars motivated him to keep informed via web-surfing of Storm's swift rise in Formula One racing.
"OK…here is my counter proposal…you clear my name in the States…permanently. You see to it that the rest of the Government' s countless teams of Black Ops ghouls stays off my butt…permanently. And in return, I'll find what's left of Richards, and recruit and secure your little R and D fraternity. Once they are all on board, I'm out. This may take months, and there are casinos all over the world that I haven't dropped a few hundred grand in yet. That's my offer. If you don't like it, I'll be happy to take my chances with the CIA and you can figure out how to staff your Mensa For Maniacs club."
"You don't want me to take care of Osborne too?"
"Tempting…but I have my own plans for Normie…and my own timetable. Right now I'm happy as Hell to be an irritant for him. It wasn't enough that he got all of my real estate. He wants to milk my brain as well. He's got guys trying to shadow me too, you know".
"Yeah…I saw Gargan in the lobby of this little playpen. The whole fuckin' world thinks they can be spies, I guess. Look…I've got vigilantes and a blank check, Stark. If you want Norman's head on your mantle, I can help ya with that…but I would really rather that you did it with a clearly outlined agenda and using the resources that I can give ya. It all fits in the framework, Tony. I don't need any wild cowboy shit. And while we're on the topic, I'm hiring Tony Stark, not Iron Man. I may have ya work on armor, but ya don't put it on unless it's by direct order from me."
"You've got Rhody in the fold, don't you?"
Yep…and a few others that will be my field team. But that's not in yer purview. I'll give ya plenty ta keep ya busy in the lab".
Stark weighed the possibilities. It was a chance to go home, with his name cleared. His assets were entirely liquid at this point, but intact. In fact, he had added to them in his exile. If this didn't pan out, he had the wherewithal to cut and run again. And it was a chance to get Stark Industries back from Norman Osborne.
On the other hand, this dream of Fury's had very little "in hand". Pym was brilliant, the most highly regarded Biological researcher in the world, but extremely emotionally damaged. Stark assumed that Fury had him on all sorts of meds to keep him productive. Richards may not even be alive. No way of knowing if McCoy had any interest in joining them, unless Fury has some Intel that he isn't sharing. And as always, Banner was the biggest wild card of them all.
Oh yeah, and he wasn't allowed to be Iron Man anymore. That torch had been passed without any consultation.
"OK Nick, I'll tell you what…you know I like long odds, and what you've laid out is just crazy enough to grab my attention for a while. I'll get your team together, and I will leverage you to nail Osborne, but I'm still not seeing this as a permanent gig, OK? There will be a time when I'm going to consider my work done, and I don't want any crap when I decide that. "
Fury rose form his chair and stuck out his hand. "Fair 'nuff. I can hang here in Paradise until yer ready to go…how much time do ya need?"
"I travel light, Nick. I'm gonna celebrate my good fortune tonight and pack tomorrow. That work?"
"Yep…so here is the timetable…we blow outa here via Quinjet tomorrow morning. Your days of sleepin' til noon are over for a while. I have an HQ set up for you brainiacs in Baltimore. A day to settle in there, then yer off to New York ta start lookin' for Richards…and a little outpatient rehab."
"Whoa…hold on, Fury. The drunk tank wasn't part of our deal."
"I don't have time ta babysit fucked up geniuses, Stark. That's what I'm hirin' you for. I need ta trust ya ta keep everyone productive when I'm not there. You gotta have a clear head ta do that. I have a team of folks that are gonna meet ya at the Baxter Building-most of 'em are there to help with the Richards deal, but one of 'em is an addiction counselor. Get sober or get lost, Tony. This is one condition I won't back down on. "
Stark turned to look out over the casino, evaluating how much damage he could do to himself in the next twelve hours. "But I can still have tonight…" he turned back around. Fury was gone.
Stark slapped the table, laughing. One more scotch, and quick hand of Baccarat, then he would retire to his suite. He knew there would be a knock at his door before the sun rose the next morning.
While Fury was in Istanbul hustling Tony Stark, Steve Rogers was in a Mom and Pop diner in Sparks, Nevada, making a similar pitch to the man who would be his replacement in Fury's new Avengers.
Much like Stark, Clint Barton had initially thought that Rogers had tracked him down to arrest him. There was, after all, a murder rap on his head. Not to mention in his head.
"Look Steve, I appreciate that you took the time to chase all over the U.S. lookin' for me, but I'm not Avenger material anymore…and mebee I never was."
"Clint listen-Fury can clear the murder charge. The fact is, you took one more vermin out of the mix. The world is a better place for it. It isn't an Avengers team without you. You, above all others, embody what this group has always stood for. More than Stark, more than Pym, more than me. You represent the tremendous good that can come from taking advantage of a second chance. Don't throw that away".
"Well, first of all, bless your heart, but you're full of shit with that 'Heart and soul of the Avengers' line. You held that team together through the very worst of times. You never let us give up. Stark kept us fed and sheltered, and kept the government off our asses. All I did was build up a lot of tenure because I had no place else to go. Hell, I don't even have a 'super power'. Second, whatever cred I did have from rubbin' elbows with the big boys, I've already thrown it away. I killed a man. Is that what you call 'taking advantage of a second chance'?"
"You eliminated a threat. Lester was insane, couldn't have been rehabilitated. You saved the taxpayers from having to pay to feed and clothe him in prison. He killed a lot of people, and he would have killed you if you hadn't acted. "
"So, what makes his murders worse than mine, Steve? "
"He did it over and over again-for fun. You did it once to serve a greater good. There is a difference, if you would just stop for a second and see it."
Barton shook his head. "Dead is dead. You can't slice bologna like that thin enough to justify it."
Steve Rogers had fought in World war Two, along with his long and illustrious run as Captain America, battling more civilian, but no less dangerous threats as the leader of the Avengers. He had seen a lot of people die, several by his own hand. In his mind, there was justifiable killing and not justifiable killing. The fact that Barton wouldn't-or couldn't- make this distinction was going to make his recruitment challenging. He decided to change the approach.
"How long have you been out here on the road, Clint? What do you do for money?"
"I had a little saved up from personal appearances I had done as Hawkeye. I bought the Harley with part of that. I've been doing a little of this, a little of that since I left your last attempt at an Avengers team…construction, farm labor, I even dusted off my old carney skills, working scam booths…ring toss, knock over the pins, that kinda stuff. I'll stick in a place until I think I have enough dough ta move on, or until I think someone recognizes me…"
"You've changed your appearance some, but it isn't the greatest disguise, Clint…"
Rogers was right about the change in Barton's appearance. Never exactly a wimp, he was bigger, more thickly muscled especially in the chest and arms. Rogers attributed that to the demanding physical labor he had participated in, in the almost three years he had been on the road. His hair was almost completely snow-white, and had grown to shoulder-length, and a thick Fu Manchu moustache framed his mouth. His skin was weather-beaten. He looked fit, but about ten years older than his actual age.
"Yeah, well, as long as we're on the subject of looks, yer skinnier than Hell. You got cancer or somethin'?"
Rogers looked down at the thick, old-fashioned milkshake glass that he was slowly turning in both of his hands. "No…no, not cancer, thank God. But I can't be Captain America anymore".
The truth was, Rogers was far from emaciated…but he was notably smaller than Barton. They both knew that three years ago, he wouldn't have been.
Barton's inquisitive gaze invited him to tell the story.
"A few months ago, I started noticing that I wasn't recovering physically from scraps as quickly as I used to. I was stiff and sore the day after, which had never happened before. I started seeing some other signs that things weren't right…missing targets with my shield, not putting people away with the first punch. Fury picked up on it, too. He had me spend several weeks with Hank Pym, running tests…"
"Pym? Is he workin' again?"
"He's very good in the lab-best biologist in the world. I don't think he'll ever be in uniform again though. The stress triggers his …issues…"
Barton nodded in thoughtful agreement.
" What he found", Rogers continued, "Is that after 70 plus years, the chemicals and radiation that made me Captain America are finally starting to wear off. The regression will be slow, but eventually, I will be the one-hundred-thirty-five-pound 4F'er that I was in the '40s".
Barton sat in contemplation for several moments, processing this news. It was like learning that a relative died. Finally, he asked a question.
"How do you and Fury expect to have any success with an Avengers team that doesn't have a Captain America? That's been tried before, y'know".
"We intend to have a Captain America, Clint. It just won't be me. My role will be as a 'strategist'. I won't go into the field, but I will be guiding activities".
"Who then-Barnes?"
"Bucky's on the SHIELD payroll-but he works best alone, and his skills are better suited for more…um…permanent solutions".
Barton shifted uncomfortably in the booth. "Uh huh…he's Fury's hit man, in other words."
"That's in scope for his assignments, if it is deemed necessary. Mostly, he's doing some advanced scouting. Trying to find people we have an interest in that for whatever reason aren't listed in the phone book. He helped us track you down."
Barton laughed, for the first time in the conversation. "You may be the last person left in America that actually uses a phone book." The laugh quickly faded as he re-focused on the discussion. "Wilson?"
"I love Sam like a brother, but he doesn't have the chops to be Captain America. He's SHIELD's Mutant Liaison. He flies to Genosha regularly to get updates and offer assistance".
"So, you're in bed with Xavier and Lenshurr?"
"We try to keep our friends close and our enemies closer. What they are doing on that island is a potential wild card-could go in a lot of directions, not all of them good. Sam's helping make sure that a spark doesn't land in that tinderbox".
"T'Challa?"
"Full plate. He is the king of the richest nation in Africa, after all. He makes very generous donations of money and raw materials to SHIELD, but he's not going to be an active Avenger. "
"There isn't anyone else who can fill your boots, Steve. If you're considering anyone beyond those three, I have even less interest in re-upping".
Rogers grinned. "You've overlooked an obvious candidate".
As Barton stared back at the grin, a slow recognition of Rogers' point began to take hold.
"…Uh uh, no…no way…Jeez, Steve…if I'm not up to bein' an Avenger, I'm sure as Hell not up to bein' the new Captain America. "
"Why not? Clint, listen…even if my physical condition hadn't started eroding, I may not have been the best Captain America for right now. My values were formed in the 30's and 40's . They don't fit anymore. And I'm too old to change. You, on the other hand …you are the current America. You've worked your butt off for everything you've ever gotten. You've recognized when you've had a second chance and capitalized on it. Falling down, getting back up, doing it better the next time…that is what America is supposed to be about today,Clint".
"…even if it means taking a life to get what I want…"
"Look, let's forget about the Avengers for a minute…forget about who Captain America is, or will be…Clint, how will you get on with your life if you can't forgive yourself? Can't put this behind you? You need help. You can't do this alone".
"Just what kind of 'help' are you suggesting, Steve? Weekly sessions with a SHIELD shrink? Is that how Fury got Pym back on the payroll?"
" Hank's got different issues…and no, that is not exactly what I am suggesting. SHIELD can get the best psychologists in the world on this…in the world, Clint…not SHIELD shrinks, top-drawer civilian experts".
As they talked, Barton produced a roll of cash from his vest pocket. He carefully wrapped their lunch check around the outside of it and folded the mass of paper so that it was in a secure bundle, his eyes never leaving Rogers' eager gaze.
"Tell ya what, Steve", he sneered. "When I think my head is in need of some Nick Fury-mandated programming, I'll look him up". His eyes shifted momentarily from Rogers to the waitress standing at the open cash register several feet across the aisle and probably twenty feet more down from their booth. With his focus returned to Rogers, he made a light overhand toss of the packaged money towards the waitress. It landed in the register drawer in a compartment usually reserved for bills larger than twenties, but currently empty. The waitress took a step back a let out a sharp, startled "eep".
Barton stood up from the booth. "I'm done here. You?"
Rogers rose as well. "For now". He reached into a pocket of his slacks and produced a business card, which he handed to Barton. "This is my contact information. Whether you join us or not, I'd like to stay in touch. You need to know that you still have friends. Lots of them, if you just let it happen."
Barton read the card. No name, no SHIELD logo. Just a fifteen digit secured government satellite phone number.
"Uh huh…and how many SHIELD fiduciaries are standing by waiting to answer when I dial this?"
"Call it right now and find out".
"Nah…out of our history together, I'll take your word for it. "
The pair silently walked past the still-flustered waitress and out the door of the diner. As they neared Rogers' rented Ford Taurus, Barton broke the silence.
"So where ya off to from here?"
"Back to our new HQ. Ton of stuff to do. Jan is ready to assume leadership of the field team, in the event that you declined my offer…which is obviously the case…so, she'll need to be prepped. If Fury had any success with his recruiting trip to Istanbul, I'll need to get Grimm and Jennifer ready to fly to New York to meet them. I also need to check the repairs on the main barn and fences around the lower pasture. After that, I'm off to either Monaco or Portland, depending on which day I'm ready to go. "
Barton ribbed his chin as Rogers got behind the wheel of the Taurus and rolled down the window. "Ya got another minute for like, about 50 more questions?"
Rogers grinned. "Of course".
"OK, I'll try to get these in the right order. Jan, Grimm, Jennifer? Who's on this new team? "
"So far, the three you named….Luke Cage and his wife, whom I have barely had time to meet. Their kid is an absolute doll, though. Colonel James Rhodes. To anticipate one of your next questions, I'm going to be chasing John Storm around the Formula One circuit to see if he has an interest. There are others. Bucky is doing the tracking…I just swoop in and do my sales pitch when he gives me coordinates".
"Who is Fury draggin' in from Istanbul?"
"Tony Stark. But he won't be part of the field team. Fury wants him to head up an R and D group. Technology implementation only-no' bang bang shoot 'em up'. That's what we're for. "
"You think Fury will land Stark?"
"I wouldn't bet against him…would you?"
"Who else is in R and D?"
"Just Hank so far…but Fury has some ambitious plans".
"'Course he does…what the Hell did I hear ya say about 'main barns" and 'lower pastures'?"
Rogers laughed openly and shook his head. "Gee, I totally forgot to tell you about our new HQ. I'm planning for my career after super-heroing, Clint. I am the proud owner of a very large, previously abandoned farm and acreage in North Dakota. There is a lot of renovation going on there right now."
"Little retirement gift from Uncle Sam?"
"Yep. "
"Mind if I ask what yer cash crop is, Farmer Rogers"?
"We're near the Canadian border-not much will grow there, so I'm focused on cattle and raising horses for work on our farm or to sell to others .but mainly Clint, I want to harvest a really big crop of world peace."
"How's the demand for that these days?"
"Huge, Clint", Rogers started the engine of the Taurus. "Huge".
Barton shook Rogers' hand through the open widow of the car, then turned and walked towards his motorcycle, parked several feet away. He straddled the bike and watched the Taurus drive into the flat desert distance until it was no longer visible even to his highly trained eyes. He then spent several more minutes staring at the phone number on the card that Rogers had handed him. There would me much to think about on the ride to Reno.
pg. 7