Perhaps he should've asked more questions before he was ultimately thrown into the darkened van. He couldn't even see out of the windows, let alone whom he was sitting beside and who exactly had taken him in the first place. His parents were probably worried sick by now. If the news channels didn't do him any justice, his lack of attendance probably did it. The binds wrapped around his wrists dug into his skin every time the anonymous van hit a nasty bump. At this point, he didn't know how long it's been since he was taken. Time really did seem to be an illusion without the ticking hands of a clock.
He could, however, tell almost immediately that the vehicle had stopped. The roar of the engine was reduced to nothing but timed clicks, and his captors mumbled in a language he didn't understand beside him. He would've said something if it weren't for the clothed gag pressed into his mouth to prevent him from speaking. He jerked at the binds again, his hands sore from it, but he was persistent. For the first time, a thick hand lunged out and gripped both of his wrists at once and yanked him forward.
He stumbled in a heap, knees digging into the floor of the vehicle before they met painful concrete. He cried out in pain, the sound muffled. He struggled to get to his feet as the person continued to drag him. Now that he was outside the car, he could finally tell his surroundings. From a stranger's perspective, it looked like an ordinary factory building. The words on the outside were washed off either from age or heavy rain. The people who had successfully taken him were all wearing black suits with pressed ties of all colors. They wore dark sunglasses, much like the supervillains did in the movies. The man holding him was bigger than the rest with pale skin and a bright shiny head.
One of the other man generously pulled the gag from his mouth as they started inside. He immediately burst into conversation, his accent bleeding into every word he spoke.
"L-Look, I don't know w-why you're doing this, b-but I swear I won't tell anyone if you let me go!" he pleaded. "I-I'm Zachary Monroe! My father, he...he has money if that's what you want! P-Please! I didn't mean to hurt anyone! It all j-just happened!" He yanked at both his wrist restraints and the man's strong hold.
"Enough!" the man finally barked, scaring Zach into silence. "You aren't in trouble! He just needs to speak with you. Now, will you please shut up? Next time we get another ankle biter, Jones, let's wait until after he's inside to take out the gag. This kid's giving me one hell of a migraine."
"W-Wait! Who needs to see me?" Zach demanded, completely ignoring the demand for his silence. This time, he got no reply. Instead, two of the men moved in front of them in order to open the double doors. Zach was forced inside, still being pulled. He had never felt more terrified.
The inside of this old factory was completely rid of any and all machinery that used to be inside. In fact, from what Zach could see, each and every window toward the ceiling was broken and the white coated walls had chipping paint that revealed the old beige color underneath. The floor had some kind of wet, sticky substance on it that made his shoes a lot louder than necessary with each step. Finally, his gaze fell on the only table in the room. It resembled one of those tables you'd see within a children's park where parents would sit to watch their kids play. Unfortunately, there was no comfort about it, especially with the man sitting at it.
He was, perhaps, the most intimidating of all in Zach's most honest opinion. He wore black clothes that pretty much hid everything besides his face. He was bald, much like the man holding him, but he had on a black eyepatch before his left eye. He was watching Zach interestedly, both of his arms crossed over the table top. Once Zach and the men were close enough, he suddenly raised one of his hands and gave them a single nod.
His wrists werefinally released, both by the man and his handcuffs. Rubbing at them, he turned and watched uselessly as each man straightened their postures and went to stand on either side of the doors they just entered. This was just getting weirder and weirder. He really wished he could phone his parents and ask them to come get him.
"Please, sit," the man at the table demanded.
"No, thanks, I'd rather stand!" Zach squeaked.
"It wasn't a question, son," the man stated, bending his head forward. Zach, unable to stifle the big gulp, hurriedly took the seat opposite him. "Let's hurry up and get down to business. The media won't be distracted forever; they got eyes everywhere, and if they catch a whiff that the man in question has gone missing...well, you can see where that's goin'."
"Look, if this is about...about the accident earlier today, I promise...I had no idea what happened. I still haven't the faintest clue as to why it happened. My parents are probably worried sick, though...if you could just let me go, I'll do anything," Zach begged, glancing uneasily at the exits that were practically overshadowed by the men in the black suits.
"Not to fast. Your parents will be well informed of your location, s'long as they can keep their mouths shut. Now...let's talk. I'm a little more than mighty curious about you. Hill could only gather so much information about you on such short notice. Let me give you the run down, so you can fill in the blanks," the man now uncrossed his arms in order to gesture at the teenager. "You are Zachary Monroe, eighteen years of age, born on exactly May 21st, 2000."
"Yes?" Zach mumbled, feeling a little more confused.
"Your parents are Octavia and Jerome Monroe, both working in law enforcement. You've lived in London all your life?"
"Yes...and yes. Look, what does this have to do with anything?"
"You're right, what the hell does it have to do with anything when you have nothing out of the ordinary goin' on behind the scenes, yet you managed to cause so much damage today it's going to takes weeks to hush it all up before kiddies start makin' conspiracy theories about your ass," he continued. "Now...it's my job to shut this shit down and make sure it's not another infiltration from outside the atmosphere. I understand England already had a bit of a ruckus after the god of thunder managed to bring ugly ass elves from whatever realm they had escaped from. Now we got this shit. You can understand why I'm just a little bit paranoid."
"B-B-But..."
"Let's reevaluate, then, since you're so goddamn confused." the man sighed, running a gloved hand down his face. "You were near the train stations at exactly noon when it just happened. Guess we're lucky there were no casualties, but plenty of people are recovering in the hospitals. You somehow managed to conjure up a twister out of nothin' but the palms of your hands. Are you tellin' me ain't nothing like that has happened before?"
"N-No? Should it have?" Zach pressed on, glancing down at his hands wearily. Despite how odd it sounded, the man wasn't lying. That really did happen. Zach had never felt so guilty before. His parents had the early shift that morning, warning Zach he needed to stay home in time for a delivery. Of course, he didn't listen and left to visit companions up north. The train always took about an hour to arrive, so he had only a few short hours to get there. At exactly noon he had arrived, and...
Zach clenched his blue eyes shut in order to drive away the painful memory. The screams, the cries for someone to aid them, and the bodies slung over upside down vehicles along with half of the train station's brick walls torn clean off. The twister had stopped just as soon as it had started, but that didn't take away from the sheer power of it. And it had all come from his own hands. The thought of it was just impossible. It couldn't be... He had seen things like this on the telly. He knew of the heroes residing mostly in the U.S. that fought off the strong in order to protect their world. But even then the only one with magical capabilities was the god who came from Asgard.
Zach was born in London in a normal family surrounded by normal people. How was it that he managed to do something like that?
"I don't know what to tell you," he stated weakly.
"Neither did the others, apparently. How the hell this all occurred within just a few days..." the man finally pressed his face into the palm of his hands. He looked exhausted, but the words he said put him in a tumble. Did he just say he was dealing with this already the past few days? Were there others that could make twisters from nothing? He wanted to ask, but he knew he shouldn't. Instead, he watched him, waiting for him to pick his head up and continue speaking and somehow answered his unspoken question. "Alright, kid...this is where things get really complicated."
"Complicated? How-?"
"Cuff him."
Zach cried out as the same bald man from before suddenly appeared at his side, placing his wrists back in their restraints and forcing him to his feet. He looked back at the man he had spoken to in fear, getting the feeling he wouldn't be seeing his parents anytime soon like he wanted. He was in deep trouble. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it be someone worthwhile? He didn't deserve this, did he? He had just wanted to visit a friend. That was all.
"Contact the Monroes. Tell them we have their son in custody. As far as they're concerned, he is now public enemy one-oh-one and he needs to be hidden. Get the jet ready. Tell Hill we're on our way back with the fourth piece of the puzzle. We need that blood work going now." the man went on, sending man after man on their way towards the exit except for the one holding him. "Reggie, let's get going."
The bald man nodded and began walking, Zach being dragged along in his wake. He didn't like the sound of what was going on at all.
"Wait, wait, wait!" he protested, beginning to kick his legs needlessly, grabbing at 'Reggie's' hands desperately as he tried to stop him. "Please, I just want to go home! Really, I didn't mean to hurt anyone! If you want me to apologize publicly, I will! I swear it! My father can give you all the money you want! I swear it!" No matter what he said, he was still dragged right along.
"Look, kid, it ain't nothin' personal. We just need to make sure everyone is safe, including you. You'll understand when we get back to headquarters." The man draped in black suddenly pressed a hand to his ear as if alerting some kind of earpiece, which he quite might've been. "The jet's ready. Get him on. Try to keep him as calm as you can to the best of your abilities. If he blows us right out of the sky, I'm going to be really, really pissed."
"Yes, sir," Reggie stated, loosening his grip on Zach's wrists just as they walked out the door. Before Zach could try to make his escape since the grip was enough for him to sleep away, his attention was captured by the massive contraption laying right outside this old factory, somehow out of sight of any passersby. He marveled at it in amazement. He's never flown in his life in a plane, let alone a private jet. The others were probably used to it by now, seeing as they barely batted an eye as they strolled up the walkway into it.
"What about my parents?" Zach asked, walking beside Reggie much more easily now. "And...can you please tell me your name? The animosity is really getting on my nerves."
"Your parents think you're in a heap of trouble, which you technically are, but as far as they know you're in protective custody and will be returned to them unharmed once everything blows over. And...just call me Fury."
They were finally on board. Everything was really tech-savvy on the inside. It was amazing, but Zach was still focused on the man before him. "F-Fury? What, is that your real name? Are you sure? Does everyone here call you Fury? What does your mother call you? Couldn't I call you something else?"
"Enough yapping, kid, you're givin' me a migraine. Go take a seat and wait for landing. All of your questions will be answered as soon as we're back in New York," 'Fury' commanded, nodding to Reggie in order for the man to march him over to the line of seats. He shoved Zach into one and took the one on his other side so he could make no movement for escape. Fury went all the way up front, leaving them completely alone.
Zach had never felt more terrified.