David North, formerly known as David Levi Carter, a former member of the US Special Forces X-Team under Colonel William Stryker.
He shook his head slightly and smiled to himself. A year ago, Stryker had been disavowed by the US Military, the X-Team shut down. But there was something that had been missing ever since the X-Team was disbanded. He followed Wade and went into the private sector, but it still didn't feel right. He wasn't being given orders. He was starting to develop what Logan called a conscience. Which was disturbing.
Because previously all he had been trained to do was to follow orders. That helped with the killing, all the bloodshed. True, he still saw the ones that he had killed but it didn't really bother him.
He slid the disk drive across the table to the Czech, "Where's the payment?"
The Czech took the drive and plugged it into his laptop computer. Grunting his satisfaction, the Czech slid across a thick envelope. David removed it, thumbed through the notes, and was slipping it into his inner pocket when the Czech slumped over, an arrow in his back. At the same moment, David caught a blur of movement from his right.
His right hand curled itself around his Stechkin and as he drew, he was already turning his body to meet the assailant full on. Mistake. All he caught sight of was a blur of red hair, and before he knew what was going on, he was flat on the ground. The last thing he saw was a man with what seemed like a bow entering the room before everything went dark.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
He woke up with what seemed like a splitting headache. Briefly he wondered if that's what it felt like to have your skull split by a battle-axe before stopping that train of thought. It hurt way too much to even think. All he could concentrate on was the pain.
When the pain subsided a bit, he managed to look around. He knew he was chained to the desk—he could feel the cold metallic chains on his wrists even though it hurt to open his eyes too much—and he saw that he was in a room with a blacked out window directly in front of him. It was an interrogation room, then. Right now, there could be someone watching him, or there could be nobody. He knew that the first trick in interrogation was to add uncertainty—to throw the subject off. Either there was someone or there wasn't. 50-50. A coin-toss.
The door opened and a shorter white male entered with an armful of manila binders. Pulling up a chair, he sat down and glanced through the top file before closing it and placing it back on the pile.
"David North? Formerly of the United States Special Forces under Colonel William Stryker?" He asked, studying David's face closely.
"If you're going to ask how a member of one of the most elite strike forces of the United States Special Forces ended up working as a mercenary, I think most of us ended up working in the private sector."
An amused expression crossed the man's face before subsiding, "No, actually, I was going to ask how the nephew of the great Peggy Carter turned out to be an enhanced person and managed to hide it for so long."
David flinched and hesitated slightly, "Who's Peggy Carter?"
"David Levi Carter? That's you, right?" The man asked as he held up a photo, "Because this would be incredibly awkward if it wasn't."
The photo was his high school graduation photo. Manhattan High. That had been 6 years ago. He had changed his name when he joined the military. David inclined his head slightly, "What do you want?"
"I can help you, Mr. Carter. We can actually help other human beings, help save lives, make the world a better place, and all that great stuff. But I need you to be honest with me and to trust me."
"Whom do you work for?"
"Who do you think?"
"Your accent is American, which means you can't be MI-6 or MI-5. You won't be the CIA because last time I checked, the CIA had a shoot-on-sight policy for any mutants, as does the FBI. You aren't Interpol either, because you haven't flashed your ID. Which means that there really is only one possibility—you work for SHIELD."
The man across the table smiled slightly, "You're about as good as they say you are. So, are you in?"
Either he was or he wasn't. 50-50. A coin-toss.
"Sure." David shrugged.
The man smiled, and unlocked the cuffs; "We'll be putting you out on probation, just until the people I work for know that you can be trusted. Any questions?"
"Uh… two, actually. Who are you, and who brought me in?"
"I'm Agent Phil Coulson. The team that brought you in is STRIKE Team DELTA. You'll meet them soon enough."