A/N: Hi everyone! As you know, this is an Iron Man fanfic. However, I just wanted to mention that the first part of this story involves Calvin Zabo (also known as Cal) from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the evil Daniel Whitehall. (Grr!) I've twisted the storyline of it a bit, in order for it to fit into my story and future stories. So instead of Cal making an alliance with Whitehall for Skye, in order to take her to Kree City, Whitehall's offers his protection for Skye/Daisy and asks for something in return. But everything apart from that, will follow the original Iron Man storyline.
Wow. Okay. I'm really sorry if that was confusing. Anyway, please enjoy the story!
Asia
Gosh, he was nervous. You'd think someone like him, Calvin Zabo, would be fearless in such a situation; a 60 year old man, hard, solid looking face that's been through everything, would be able to handle such a thing. He was only going to see a man. Well, not just any man. He was Daniel Whitehall. From the things that he's heard of this Whitehall, he wasn't very friendly; a Nazi in the early forties, captured in '45 in which he eventually escaped. This guy was crazy. But hopefully, he was the good kind of crazy. Hopefully crazy enough that he would provide some help with finding Daisy.
Two men in black military suit's and caps led Calvin down a long silver hallway that almost resembled the appearance a sardine can. Luckily though, they didn't touch him; one walked on in front of him and the other strolled closely behind him.
After a few short moments they made it to another metal door. So much metal,he almost reminded him of the famous Magneto. Ha! That man had accomplished many things. Maybe one day he would meet him if he caught himself lucky. The people here would be screwed if the metal controller was here. Magneto would squash them all like ants.
The Asian man in front of Calvin looked over his shoulder and shouted an order in a foreign language and then nodded to the door beside him. Calvin nodded nervously and slowly stepped forward and knocked on the heavy door. Although, it sounded more like he was trying to break his way in, as when he knocked, the sound erupted throughout the whole corridor. Damn metal.
"Enter." A stern voice sounded from inside the room.
Calvin pulled down a cold, heavy, silver leaver on the enormous door and pushed, and he pushed real hard. It eventually swung open rapidly, almost hitting Cal in the face as it swung back closed if he didn't move out of the way. Calvin thanked the formula he created for this ultimate strength. Any other human would have struggled with that mighty door.
"Ah, Calvin, I believe?" Cal turned his head away from the shutting door and looked at where the voice came from. A man wearing a clean, grey suit sat on a chair behind his wooden desk, smiling at Calvin. He also wore small, black circular glasses.
"Whitehall." Calvin whispered almost in astonishment. So this was him. He almost expected Whitehall to be scary, extremely old and crippling. But no, here he was in all his glory; the man's hair was silver and he had little wrinkles on his face.
Whitehall nodded his head slowly and frowned, his smirk still plastered on his smug face.
"Yes, I am Daniel Whitehall, and hopefully you are this Calvin Zabo that I have been exchanging phone calls and e-mails with for months."
Calvin shook his head, successfully getting out of his daze and walked forward and sat down in the chair across from Whitehall. "Yeah, yeah, that's me. I'm sorry, you're just not who I expected you to be, if you understand me." Calvin grunted quietly and ran his hands through his hair and then slumped back in his chair. "What I'm trying to say is-"
"You thought I would be dead and gone? Old, weak and decaying," he paused, "slowly."
"Well… yes." Calvin chuckled. Of course that's what he thought. This man, from what he knew, was born sometime in 1904 making him presently at least 104. To be fair, he didn't look a day over 50.
Daniel chuckled along with Calvin, although it sounded slightly forced. "However, I believe that we are not here to discuss my current state." Whitehall leaned forward and clamped his hands together on his desk. "You contacted me with the assumption that I would help you find your long lost daughter who you were so tragically separated from and find out who… killed your wife, am I correct?" Whitehall asked and picked up a steaming teacup.
Assumption? Assumed?!This man told Calvin that he would, could find his Daisy. He had the resources, didn't he? He had the contacts, didn't he? "But I thought-"
"And you thought correctly, Mr. Zabo." Whitehall grinned.
Calvin breathed a sigh of relief and smiled and shook his head. "Thank God," Cal chuckled, "for a second there I thought-"
"However, Mr. Zabo, I do not give out free favours." Whitehall interrupted.
Calvin nodded slowly with a scowl plastered on his face. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms stubbornly.
"Mr. Zabo, are we communicating correctly?" Whitehall asked impatiently and started tapping four continuous beats on his desk.
Calvin stared at the front of the desk and nodded briskly.
"Fabulous." Whitehall muttered. Cal heard him scrap his chair along the silver flooring and stand up and began to circle Calvin and the desk. "December 3rd 1944 was the day I met Adolf Hitler. I considered it an honour, well, of course it was; I got to meet the Johann Schmidt of the human race. This was also the day that I met Matilda Scherzinger-"
"Does this little love story have a point, Mr. Whitehall?" Calvin asked.
"All in good time, Mr. Zabo. Now," Whitehall continued, "she was stunning." He mused and stopped walking for a moment but then continued. "Well, long story short; I took her home and we made love. Little did I know, that Matilda became pregnant with a child while I was on my way to Stuttgart the next day. And nine months later, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy and called him Lukas. Now, Mr. Zabo," Whitehall sat back down in his chair and leaned his elbows on his desk, "I will skip a couple of decades for the sake of time. On October 6th 1985, my son's wife gave birth to a pretty little girl; the name of the child was unknown, and her whereabouts are currently," Whitehall shrugged, "still unknown."
"What are you asking me to do?" Calvin asked as he glared straight through Whitehall.
"Somewhere on this Earth I have a granddaughter, a possibly live granddaughter." Whitehall sat back down and leaned back in his chair, "now, family is the foremost important thing to me, Mr. Zabo, and the possibility that this girl could be alive is brilliant. It really is brilliant."
"You want me to find her." Calvin realised. Oh, this had become ridiculous. A little wind had become a storm in five minutes. What did Calvin have to track this girl down? Nothing. That's what.
"Do not panic, Mr. Zabo. I have certain assets in this situation which will help me," Whitehall gestured to himself, "help you," he finished and gestured to Zabo.
"I'm listening." Calvin said.
"Sometime in the future, an agent of HYDRA will be taken into S.H.I.E.L.D. disguised as an agent. As his time in this community settles, he will be granted access to particular files; files in which I believe include information about my granddaughter."
"How would you know that these guys have this information you talk about? I thought you worked for the bad guys?"
"I do notwork for the 'bad guys', Mr. Zabo, I believe that I work for the right side. And… I think I have met my granddaughter before in 1994," Whitehall paused and fiddled with his fingers, "but that does not need to be discussed-"
"I came here to talk about my daughter," Calvin said and stood up slowly from his chair, "I want some Goddamn answers!"
"Mr. Zabo, I have right to believe that I know of your daughters' location. However, I also have right to believe that my granddaughter is rather, how do I put it – unstable. I want you to find her and fix her." Calvin frowned and was about to answer before Whitehall spoke again, "I know of the formula you created; it enhances strength, correct?"
Cal nodded in agreement, "yes."
"Then I believe you could create a formula that decreases certain abilities." Whitehall sighed and rubbed his cheek, "if the little girl I met in 1994 is truly my granddaughter, then she has superhuman – mutant – abilities. So unnatural for a girl of her age. I wish for her to live a simple human life; get married, have children, do what she pleases. But she cannot live a life like this with the way she is now." Whitehall told Cal.
"So you want me to… what? Find an antidote for her… condition, as you call it?" Calvin asked.
"Oh, yes. And if not an antidote, then, feel free to experiment, if you understand my words, Mr. Zabo." Whitehall smiled grimly.
Calvin frowned. He did understand what Whitehall was talking about; if no antidote was made successfully, then Whitehall wanted him to cut into his grandchild and find what could be taken out that would 'cure' her of her mutation. Calvin did understand this man's desperation, he would want what was best for Daisy also, but one thing he could never do was 'experiment' on his own family. What happened to 'family is the foremost important thing to me' and blah, blah…
Whitehall looked down at the watch on his wrist, "excuse me, Mr, Zabo, but I'm a little pressed for time," Whitehall stood up and almost politely gestured to the door, "if you please."
Calvin's chair scraped against the hard floor as he stood and walked towards the door and opened it. He heard Whitehall's footsteps approach him and turned around, plastering a fake smile on his face, that shadowed his irritation and annoyance. "So remember; I and my colleague will keep a close eye on your daughter, you willmake an antidote for my granddaughter's condition – which I will later contact you on to confirm – but in the mean time for you, until my agent gets into S.H.I.E.L.D., I want you to do your upmost to have a look through my family tree to discover the real identity of my granddaughter." Whitehall said and patted Calvin's shoulder roughly.
"Of course." Calvin agreed. He didn't know what else to say; the conversation was long and boring, nevertheless though, important. With this, Calvin walked out of that cramped room, and down that metal hallway once again, accompanied by two guards, and this time, he knew he would anything to get his Daisy back. No one would get in his way. He would do whatever it takes.
Daniel Whitehall walked swiftly back into his office after having a dreadful conversation with Zabo. Nevertheless, he admired him; he had great love and ambition for his lost daughter, Daisy, and the drive to avenge his long lost wife. Oh, Jiaying. That poor girl. Well, could Whitehall himself really call her poor? He was the one that used her life for his youthfulness that he currently has now. But whatever Zabo didn't know wouldn't kill him.
Whitehall's thoughts then turned back to his long, lost granddaughter. My, my, how he couldn't wait to see her. She must be so beautiful now she is 23 years old. And when he did find her, he will never let her go again, he will notlose another family member to something so little. But first, he had to find her. But how? Where are you, little girl?
Kunar Province, Afghan Desert
Exact destination: Unknown
A woman walked through a blistering hot desert. The sun shone down on her fake, black, midnight hair, making it look even shinier and brighter than it usually does. Her chunky combat boots sunk into the sand with each passing step, leaving no trail behind her as the sand was so silky and golden and thick and yet so thin. It was an advantage. Her dark brown loose combat pants and black tank top made the heat much more bearable. Most people would call this effort and would also say that it takes courage to walk for 300 miles through a scolding hot desert, with only one pit-stop, for 14 days, but to her, it was barely even a challenge. She had suffered worse, much worse. She could handle scorpions and rattlesnakes, two of which she had come across on her 300 mile trek, and one of which she had stood upon easily and killed.
Challenge? Never. Adventure? No. Highly predominant mission that she was doing on her own free will and gain? Of course.
The woman gripped the sand tightly, getting on her knees and attempting to crawl up a sand dune, but her fingertips slid easily through the gentle grains of sand and the boiling sun that continued to heat up the surface didn't even suffice. But as she continued to tug and pull, she eventually came to the top of the dune and stood, stretching out her cramped limbs and rubbed bits of grain off of her pants. Squinting her eyes she looked around; to her north, east and west there was only the continuous vision of more and more sand going on for miles, and the clear blue sky that was behind it. She then turned to the south, behind her, expecting more clear sand. Except this time, it wasn't. This time she saw boulders and knotty bushes, and behind these there were two large tents, almost camouflaged into the sandy colour. She smiled to herself at the thought of civilisation and the thought of the possible team that might be hiding in those tents. Next to the closest tent was a massive pile of explosives and guns, under the cover of a large shade, away from the temperature of the boiling sun. Did this mean that he was already here? Were these glorious weapons his? Did these weapons belong to the merchant of death? Only time will tell.
Practically surfing down the slope of the sand dune served to be slippery and tricky while on her feet. Nevertheless, she descended to the bottom soon enough without falling on her bum. She began to slowly walk towards the boulders and bushes, noticing that the ground here was more firm and the sand here seemed to be almost nonexistent. She approached a larger boulder, much bigger than the rest, and hid behind it and peaked her head around the side of it slowly. Surveying her surroundings, she noticed three men, probably members of the Ten Rings outside of the tents. They were all walking around in the middle of the area, talking to each other in what she presumed to be Afghan. Another thing she noticed was that they all had their very own machine guns that they were holding onto very firmly. She smirked. She walked out from behind the boulder and began walking towards the men slowly and with caution, not wanting to startle them. As quiet as a mouse. She started to think that they wouldn't even notice her at first; they continued to mindlessly stroll about not even sparing her a glance. But then, one of them did notice her, sparing her a double take at first and then pointing to her and shouting in Afghan. The other two men turned to the woman and pointed their guns at her and shouted loudly and demandingly as more men came out of the other two tents to see the commotion. The woman stopped halfway and put her hands up in surrender.
"Gentlemen," she shouted to the three men in front of her, "I am Agent Louise Reinhardt of HYDRA, and I am here to see Raza."