Chapter 1: The Last Centurion


"Sir .. I'm afraid I don't understand. It is not SHIELD policy to accept any affiliated members ... and the file on both of these are .. well, I can't think of anything that wouldn't be offensive without simply saying off the wall. Can the claims in either file even be substantiated!?" The suited man with wide, pained eyes glances at his boss, a black man in a sleek suit with an out of place eye-patch across one eye. It didn't take too long to get used to the patch, simply because there was no alternative; the only one that Agent Johnson had seen openly say something about the eye patch had been gone within the hour.

Nick Fury, the man that has recruited the many different members of the Avengers project, turns to look at the younger man with a weary smirk.

"The Immortal and the Last Centurion .. tell me, if even half of their file is true, how could we afford to turn them away?" There is a hint of amusement in the words, Agent Fury turning to look down at the nondescript white file folder in his hand, which is open to the picture of a handsome man in his late 30's with a bright smirk and teasing steel blues.

"Sir .. forgive me for saying, but ... I don't think the team are ready for these two."

Fury barks with cool laughter. It was time to shake things up a bit. He wasn't joking or overstating that they couldn't afford to pass up on the two men; the rest of the team would either adapt or .. well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.


Rory, aka the Last Centurion, is a down-to-Earth man who has spent the last year of his life readjusting to the 2000's. 18 years in the Roman empire circa Julius Caesar seemed a world apart from the fast cars, every changing phones and slimming of computers that seemed to surround him. He can vaguely remember his time in Leadworth, the town of his birth, but it is mostly foggy images of a harpy redhead and a grandmother that he misses terribly. The only thing that still seems as sharp as ever, is the medical knowledge he had put to good use over the last year in his place of employment.

But all of that had come to an end when he found himself suddenly without a job, trying to decide what direction his life should head in. It was at that moment that he found himself approached by Fury and offered a job in a new superhero division. He had laughed, outright -laughed- when he was asked to join a band of superheroes. Him, plain old nurse Rory .. the member of a squad of superheroes!? What would he be, their mascot? But, he did it .. he took the job, agreed to be both a fighter and a field medic for the team. Fury told him, up front, that he would see as much action as he would wounds.

What else was he going to do? He had thought it over, and just couldn't see himself able to return to a 'normal' life after everything that he had seen. So, he took the offer.

He stops, looking at the lobby of the building that would act as the current headquarters. It seemed so .. normal. Stark white lab and infirmary below, office buildings above, even a basic cafeteria. It was nothing like the last place, which looked a little like a steampunk brochure had exploded. Though, he misses the guard bird, so much.

The Last Centurion settles at the small desk in the medlab, eyes squinting slightly at the meager contents stacked in different areas. Medical files had been amassed, his on the very top, which makes him laugh a little. Since he already knows what's in it, he pushes it to the side, looking down at the next one. He recognizes the name of course; Jack. He barely manages to hold a cool smirk at bay as he yanks it open. The first time he had gotten the chance to look at - what the hell!? He yanks the single sheet of paper out that has a single line written on it in ornate, mocking calligraphy; Dream on, soldier-boy!

The smirk becomes an angry frown; thwarted again! The jackass isn't even in -charge- here and had found a way to keep Rory from getting a look at him medically. The file folder flies across the room, landing open on the floor as the nurse yanks the next one open. Thor; Asgardian. Godling. Rory doesn't even bat an eyelash as he begins to read through the different files. He had come across the likes of them more than once; this would simply be another job, in another town. Business as usual.

The only file that stops and makes him take pause is Captain America's; Steve Rogers. His eyes narrow after he reads for a few minutes, groaning softly to himself. Steve mixed with everyone else, and Captain Jack thrown into the mix?

".. these people will never survive him."

Rory sighs the words, shoving the file closed.