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Damian sighed as another explosion shook the building. His opponent stopped, looking around.
"You shouldn't take your eyes off your opponent," Damian said.
His opponent turned back to him, throwing a roundhouse kick and Damian blocked it with his forearms before instantly wrapping an arm around the man's upper leg before hitting the opposite shoulder with a palm strike then sweeping the man's other leg out from under him and slamming the man to the ground. Then, he puled the scalpel he had kept hidden from his waistband and drove it into the man's jugular before slicing out of that and through the man's carotid artery, careful to avoid the ensuing blood spray. Then, he tossed the scalpel aside, taking the man's P99 pistol, three spare magazines, and the man's thirteen inch survival knife.
"Not that I haven't loved my stay here, but I have other matters to attend to," Damian said, smiling to the now dead soldier. "Oh, and I think I'll be keeping these, that alright with you?"
He picked up the scalpel and walked to the gate, using it to pick the lock then pushing the door open, walking out of the cell as several pained shouts echoed from further along the hallway. He walked through the hallway then turned right, away from the control room and then went down two flights of stairs, reaching the armory that the soldiers here used. Walking around a Sokovian Hydra base barefoot and shirtless wearing only a pair of boxers and the same kind of white scrub pants that a doctor might wear at work was all well and fun, but he was getting a bit chilly now that he wasn't fighting. He quickly switched the pants for a pair of black cargo pants and Tee-shirt kept in one of the soldiers' personal lockers, then took a ballistic vest and elbow and knee pads. Then, he left the armory and headed back up one flight of stairs then left down a hallway to the exit, walking calmly away from the base. As he walked, two soldiers sprinted around the corner, shouting for him to freeze. He groaned, then spun, shooting both in the heart, dropping them before spinning again, a boy his age with a thin beard and bleached blonde hair with brown roots showing stopping from a blur to standing in front of him, arms crossed.
"I'm not staying here," Damian said. "I'm sick of this place."
"They have taken care of you," Pietro said.
"Taken care of me?" Damian scoffed. "They beat the shit out of me daily."
"They are training you," Pietro countered.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. trained me," Damian said. "I'm a better fighter than these lousy excuses for soldiers. I was the one selected to be special forces before S.H.I.E.L.D. fell apart, remember?"
"I know," Pietro said. "You have told me a million times."
"Exactly," Damian said. "Now get out of my way. I have places to be."
"You should come with us," Pietro said.
"I'm not like you two," Damian said. "I'm not loyal to Hydra. I'm loyal to Colonel Fury. Assuming he's still alive."
"But we would not beat the shit out of you like S.H.I.E.L.D.," Pietro said.
"Forget it Pietro," Damian said. "My ass is getting on the next plane to America."
"Fine," Pietro said. "Would you like me to tell her goodbye?"
"Yeah," Damian said. "If you don't mind. Tell her I'll see her around, I'm sure. We have a way of bumping into each other at the worst possible times."
Pietro snorted and nodded. Then, he was gone in the blink of an eye.
Damian walked away from the base, reaching town and making his way to the airport, ignoring the crowds and the mechanical robots attempting to control them. Once at the airport, he payed for an open seat on a fight to the U.S. and was on a plane ten minutes later, watching as the facility grew smaller in the distance.
"Hey, it's Damian," Damian said as the other end finally picked up. "Yes that Damian...I got locked up in Sokovia, thanks to you, as you may recall...No, I'm not trying to guilt trip you...Because I would like to get a job...What are you kidding? They enjoyed beating me every day...Thank you...When and where? How am I supposed to...They just pulled up. You already knew I was here didn't you? Thank you."
He hung up, shaking his head and grinning then put his phone away, raising a hand in greeting to the two men in fancy suits that had pulled up in the black SUV. They both stared at him in silence and he sighed, rolling his eyes and walking over to them.
"Get in," the one by the passenger seat instructed.
He rolled his eyes, climbing into the back seat and the other two both got back in before the driver pulled away, leaving the airport behind. Damian sat in silence as they drove. After roughly ten straight hours, they pulled to a stop at the beginning of a dirt road. Damian got out and the SUV drove away.
"Thanks for the lift!" Damian called after them. "Assholes."
He turned, walking down the dirt road. It stretched on and on before finally dead-ending at a twenty by twenty patch of dirt and dead grass, and a rusted out, half-buried Volkswagen Bug off to the side.
"Well that was pointless," Damian said, looking at the car. "There's no way it's that easy."
He walked over to the Volkswagen, reaching it just as the hood, the front half being the only half not totally buried in a pile of hard-packed dirt, swung open on surprisingly quiet hinges, one eye staring at him from its place beside an eyepatch.
"Hello Colonel," Damian greeted.
"I'm not a Colonel anymore," Fury said. "Come on in."
Fury climbed back down the ladder underneath the car's hood and Damian followed, pulling the hood closed as he did. Inside was a bunker with a rack of guns off to one side and a table in the middle. On the far wall was a bed, and beside that was a stack of boxes of MREs.
"Nice place," Damian said. "I would have figured you lived at the Avengers' tower, or some other non-S.H.E.I.L.D. S.H.E.I.L.D. base."
"I'm just here to pick up a few things," Fury said. "Now, Agent Romanov said you wanted a job."
"Yes Sir," Damian nodded.
"Well, officially, I can't employ you," Fury said. "Even more so than before. However, there is a small...matter, I need someone to take care of. It doesn't require your skills, simply diplomacy and a couple of questions. But since you want a job, there it is."
"What do you need?" Damian asked.
"There's a small country in Africa, Wakanda, that has a special kind of metal called Vibranium," Fury said.
"The metal used to make Captain America's shield," Damian nodded.
"Partially," Fury said. "His shield was alloyed with Adamantium too. Anyway, you are to go to Wakanda, ask for an audience with the King, he'll be expecting you, just say that you're there on my behalf, then, ask him to upgrade that thing you've got. Tell him that if he helps you out it'll square his debt to me."
"The King of Wakanda owes you a debt?" Damian asked, eyebrow arched.
"When Hydra's files were released to the world, some of the files regarding certain Wakandan secrets were deleted first," Fury said.
"And why does helping me equate sparing Wakanda global humiliation?" Damian asked.
"Let's just say that you'll be of a lot of help eventually," Fury said.
"I suppose you're not going to get specific, right?" Damian asked.
"No," Fury said.
"Alright then," Damian said. "How am I getting there?"
"There's a private jet waiting for you in the field a quarter mile to the north," Fury said.
Damian nodded and turned, walking toward the ladder only to stop and look at the gun rack.
"You know, I had to leave behind a perfectly good pistol and knife on the flight here," Damian said.
"By all means," Fury said, gesturing to the guns.
Damian walked over to the rack and picked up a P99 like the one he had left behind, then picked up six spare magazines and an eight inch knife with saw teeth on the back of the blade. Then, he climbed out of the bunker and began to head north.
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