Author's Notes: And the plot thickens. Heh. New cover art. All done by mwah. Kukuku.
Disclaimer:
Ultimate Spider-Man is not mine. Nor are any of its characters. That's Marvel's job. Any Original Characters you note, however, are all me. No. I'm not making money. Don't rub it in.


Chapter 02 - Enderlin

If Daniel Rand-K'ai knew anything, it was when to take a deep breath. He had fortunately been taught such a skill by the monks in K'un-Lun. He had also been taught how to prepare himself. So, even under Director Fury's unblinking eye, he remained calm. Unlike his teammates, who cringed at every other biting word that was thrown at them in the Tricarrier's debriefing room.

"Geeze, Fury," an un-masked Spider-Man chided from across the metal table. The brunette was free-spirited enough to tap a palm against his ear in a clear, teasing gesture. "We didn't cause that much damage."

Fury paused—a heavy, intimidating action. "Oh?" he asked caustically.

The Director pressed the button of a small device in his clenched hand. Behind him, the panned holographic screen woke up from its screensaver. It brought up high-resolution photographs of the damage in Hanover Square. Danny noted that they were arranged in the most impactful way possible—like Fury had anticipated this very moment. Which he probably had.

"You call this"—the African-American gestured to a particularly cringe-worthy close up of a melted bus—"'not much damage'? What if there had been civilians in it?"

"Then we would have gotten them out first," Spider-Man retorted. There was a frown on his pale face, adding to the offence of his tone.

"We're not dumb, Fury," Nova about growled. Danny glanced towards the Hispanic seated at his right. The tanned teen gripped tighter onto the metal helmet he leaned on, which only earned a scoff from the Director.

"You aren't smart, either." Fury clicked the device again. This time, the photos moved like a slideshow that blew up a photo, paused, minimized, and then moved on with the next. "Overturned cars, melted buses, shattered windows, thousands of dollars in road damage—three injured citizens!"

Power Man flinched notably at that last word—Danny saw it in his peripheral vision.

"Those injuries were all Nova," grumbled Spider-Man. It was probably meant to be unheard, except it wasn't.

Nova quickly stood from his seat, his steel stool screeching across the floor as he jabbed a finger at the team's leader. "Someone had to step up to the plate while you were taking a nap yesterday. Besides, none of us could contain that chick's ash."

Spider-Man also stood from his seat to return Nova's glare with an equal amount of resentment and a slam of his palm against the table. "The way Luke tells it? It seems your over-confidence is what provoked that chick to generate a cloud that big in the first place."

"You fired her up!"

"And you just made it worse by parading around that she couldn't touch you! It's your fault they got away!"

"Enough!" Fury interjected with a resounding roar. The force of the man's voice drove both alphas back into the seats, although the negative energy from their continued glaring contest could clearly be sensed by Danny. "The point of you joining SHIELD was to make you not just stronger, but wiser. The fight drew on too long and with too much collateral. However…" The Director's already stern expression hardened even more. His energy fluctuated; Danny felt it like a pricking push. And he watched closely as the director faced the holographic screen and, with a few quick hand movements, brought up some case files. "You've all heard the news of Enderlin. Right?"

"Yeah," White Tiger answered on Danny's left. He hated how her strong voice almost cracked. "North Dakota. Nasty cult. Way too many casualties."

"Right you are, Ayala. But the cult was a SHIELD cover-up."

"Naturally," Spider-Man chimed in his trademark sarcasm.

As the brunette tossed his hands in the air, Fury glanced around the table coolly, arms poised behind his back. "It beat the alternative. If the truth had gotten out, there would be a tremendous rise in panic. Mass hysteria. SHIELD exists for order."

"So, what really happened?" asked Power Man, even. Danny could tell by his straight face, though, that the superhuman dreaded really knowing.

"We've classified it as a civil uprising, in which humans and mutants fought."

"What?" White Tiger croaked.

Danny, even, had to shake the shock from his mind. It did little good.

Fury stood straighter, opening a digital file that introduced a whole slew of new images. Some were of half-destroyed buildings (whether burned, demolished, or water logged). Some showcased uprooted landscaping and beaten cars of all kinds. Most, though, left a nauseous pit in the blonde's stomach. Eyes wide and fingers gripping tight to the fabric mask in his lap, Danny glossed over the bloody bodies of numerous people. Mauled, beaten, cut, burned, shot; some even looked poisoned. The various deaths sunk the pit deeper until the hero could no longer bear the images.

"Enderlin, North Dakota," the Director started. "Population, eight-hundred-seventy-one. March twenty-ninth. While monitoring local towns for threats—"

"You mean tracking down mutants?"

Fury sent Spider-Man a hard stare then returned his eye to the group, who all avoided the screen. "Two agents of ours stayed in Enderlin a while for observation. They had heard rumors about mutant subjugation there, and wanted to know just how bad it was. Though the town's fear was evident, it seemed those branded as mutants were not the extent of their problems.

"Kidnappings had grown in the last six months. Unreported by the press because, frankly, it's bad for their already dwindling businesses. But when more missing showed up dead in surrounding forests, a majority of humans were quick to blame the mutants. It all came to a head before my agents could stop it. SHIELD arrived too late for them."

"Are you telling us…that the humans just started attacking the mutants in their town?" White Tiger couldn't hide the disgust in her question or expression.

"The only thing my agents reported as strange was a sudden fog. When their bodies were"—a brief pause—"recovered, they wore masks. But toxicology reports on surviving members showed no signs of poisoning or hallucinogens."

"So they were sane?"

"Seems so. Interviewers claimed they were justified. If you ask me, none of them should have lifted a finger. But they did. And it reduced the town's population nearly in half."

"The news said only a few were killed," added Spider-Man lowly.

Fury shook his head. "Of course we couldn't reveal the true body count. That would defeat the purpose of a cover up."

"And a cult is really all you could come up with?" Nova didn't sound as light as he usually did, but he did manage a bit of condescension.

"We made do, Alexander," the gruff Director managed through clenched teeth.

"Why hide all this stuff from us?" questioned Power Man. Both his energy and body were tense, which Fury glanced over callously.

"It's on a 'need-to-know' basis."

Spider-Man scoffed. "Everything with you guys is a 'need-to-know basis'."

Silent, Fury eyed the brunette's air quotations. "There's only one reason I'm giving this mission to you kids."

"Why's that?"

"Because you're already involved, Parker. All of you."

"The three we faced in Hanover Square," Danny said more as a musing. "They're linked to Enderlin."

"Perceptive, Rand." Fury's tone made it hard to tell whether or not the man was being sarcastic or praise-worthy. It was probably the former. "Ever since Enderlin, the mutant population had scattered. Most of them were children—your ages and younger. SHIELD has been tracking them, to help them. Most are elusive, though."

"Fear is like fire, consuming." Danny frowned at the mere thought of so many terrified kids. "Even so, what is left in its wake is a new birth, hope."

"And you're trying to tell us…what, exactly?" Nova asked his blonde friend.

Danny faced him evenly. Wasn't it obvious?

"Were those three refugees?" interjected White Tiger incredulously.

"No." Opening three files side-by-side, Fury laid out new information.

Danny noted the photographs first. Scowling, strong-chinned male. Check. Gothic female with cold eyes. Check. Lanky male of the Indian persuasion. Check. Beside them was a blurb of text—certainly scarcer in depth than any profile Danny had ever seen from SHIELD. But he could read their real names from where he sat, as well as a description of their powers.

"Flint Caulfield," Fury started, stern, "twenty-three, and his younger sister, Ashlee, eighteen, were identified in your fight footage." No one dared ask how the Director acquired such anymore. "They were residents of Enderlin, high-school dropouts. Before their deaths, my agents confirmed the Caulfields were leaders in an organized group that killed and captured others. The third, Nirav Kakar; he's twenty-one. We can't associate him with Enderlin. Graduation records put him near-by, though, in Valley City."

"Well, all of them have the same accent. Sort of."

"Duh, Webs. They're all from North Dakota still."

"Shut it, Bucket-Head. I'm just saying, it proves Mister Bangin' grew up near them."

"Mister Bangin'?"

"Did you see his outfit?"

"You've run into them a few times before," noted Danny—more so he could break up the shallow argument. His gaze remained fixed on several accounts of failed apprehension before Fury stepped into his line of sight.

"These three are trouble—especially the one that calls himself Trickster."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Spider-Man added with a notable shudder that Danny sympathized with. "It's like…he makes you believe things you know aren't true."

"Paranoia inducement," added Fury flatly. "He once convinced a platoon of SHILED soldiers that their comrades were conspiring to kill them. So they all shot one another to keep from being the first."

"Is that what happened to you, Web-Head?"

"I don't want to talk about it," the brunette snapped towards Nova. Danny didn't face either of them, but kept his attention on the absolute rage that burned behind Fury's dark eye.

"These three call themselves The Trackers"—Fury continued with just a slight edge to his voice—"They're mutants. Powerful ones."

"What are they tracking?" White Tiger inquired carefully.

"Other mutants. The true refugees."

"Why would they"—Power Man paused—"hunt their own kind?"

"Regrettably, we haven't uncovered that information yet," the Director answered. "We just know they've been chasing an unidentified group that's been more evasive than all the others combined. Now that they're in New York, I know you kids won't let the matter be; they obviously gain your attention too easily."

"Well," started Spider-Man, leaning on the table, "the buff guy, Six Arms, he was kind of harassing the people that were gawking at his extra limbs."

One of Fury's brows rose. "Six Arms?"

"Yeah. That's his codename now. We already have a Flint, remember?"

The Director simply shook his head.

"I admit, things just kind of snowballed from there, Sir," added White Tiger, almost in shame. She had lost her temper when the man started mocking her with cat sounds. And the fight sparked from there.

"Whatever." Fury gave them a pointed look. "It happened. I can't say I'm happy about it; however…I admit that you kids are better suited for this job than my soldiers. If we find The Trackers again, our best chance is you. Besides, kids identify better with peers."

"You want us to find the refugees first and convince them to come to you," Daniel said in full confidence. He wasn't quite fond of the idea, honestly. It wouldn't be much of a choice on their part—hide for protection or succumb to SHIELD. Even so, he kept his composure, and said nothing more as Fury nodded firmly.

"That's your new mission. You start patrolling for The Trackers tomorrow. Inform us immediately if you locate the refugees."

"Anything else you want to tell us, Mister Director Sir?" Spider-Man chimed, snarky.

"Yeah." Fury's cold eye landed on the brunette like an anvil. "Stop trashing the city!"


"Oh, I swear, if you spent less time messing with people and more time doing your job, we'd have them by now, Trickster!"

Trickster shot a Cheshire grin at the black-haired woman that glared his way. It was his thing: grins. He loved them. Almost as much as he loved whispering into people's ears. Or causing them to cease breathing with a single look into his left eye. Or even just tripping someone down the street. It was all fun.

His female comrade wouldn't agree, though. She was headstrong enough to let him know it too. But he refused to let her attitude affect him. He simply let his grin grow as he rounded the female's body, eyeing its gracious curves beneath melted leather.

"Watch yourself, Kakar"—a gravelly voice echoed throughout the empty train car—"I've got six arms with no qualms of ridding you of your favored eye. What would you do then?"

"Seeing as how my voice works best, I guess convince you that your own limbs are enemies with the intent of crushing you alive." Trickster said this without delay and with a chuckle.

He twirled to meet a dark-haired male not quite reaching his height, but filled with powerful muscles below his side-less 'shirt' that—if it came to a battle of limbs—could easily break his bones. The facial scruff around his strong features added way too many years (it's why Trickster kept his face clean-shaven) and the Indian teased him for it as well. That's another thing of his: teasing. And giving nicknames. Speaking of which…

Trickster grinned. "I think your nickname's been changed, Mister Scruffs. I like what that spider kid was calling you. Six Arms. It fits!"

"Next time I see those kids—"

"Am I the only one thinking about time here?" a sharp voice interjected. Still grinning, Trickster meandered towards the black-haired female that had already started to fume—literally.

"Relax, Smokescreen," the tall male sung. "We were assigned the hardest team to catch; we got time."

"What we got are problems," Smokescreen snarled as her eyes darkened.

"Oh, I know. The Doc hasn't been too happy with us. But we'll get them."

"Not if you keep playing around!"

"If I recall, you lost your temper along with your brother yesterday. Not me. I was trying to ease the battle as effectively as possible."

"We wouldn't have been in that situation if stubborn-ass Flint would have just hid his arms with a coat. Now SHIELD knows we're here!"

Trickster fell into a fit of chuckles. He couldn't help it; the woman's sour face was just too funny. And that growl!

"He'll be the first we throw to the wolves," noted Six Arms with a sneer. He approached the duo, but didn't bothering hitting his male comrade like usual. Instead, he flashed Smokescreen an impassive look. "I ran out there because I thought I saw one of the kids…then, you know how my temper is. I'm sorry, Ash."

A sort of glum shadow darkened Smokescreen's face in an instant—like a veil of trouble Trickster couldn't quite comprehend. "We can't afford anymore set-backs. You know this. For her sake…"

Faint dread could be sensed in Flint's gaze, yet he masked it well with a smirk of anticipation. "I know. And the solution is easy, Sis. SHIELD or not—if those kids stand in the way of our goal; they have to die. Right?"

Trickster grinned wider and only sniggered into his hand as Smokescreen met her brother's gaze.


Author Notes: And we would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids! LOL Please don't forget to leave a review! They keep me on track. :)