The Internal Liaison Bureau

Summery: Mark Blunt, head of the Internal Liaison Bureau, looks back on his career.

. . . . .

The fact that the alien incursion into New York barely phased Mark Blunt was a testament to all the insanity he put up with. Mostly because he had seen the alien Alfred affectionately named Tony several times. He even exchanged insults with the creature on occasion. He knew they were out there. The next logical step would be invasion. Though, he was pretty sure everyone had been blindsided by the Chitauri's sudden appearance.

Blunt eyed the wreckage of the old stone building. It was a wonder it was still standing, having had a three story tall fish-alien-monster-thing ram it full force. It was a shame for such an old, historic building to come to such an ungraceful end.

Down in the wreckage, sorting through piles of wood and rubble, was Alfred. His favored bomber jacket replaced with a standard volunteer firefighter fluro orange. Around him, and scattered across several blocks, where The Internal Liaison Bureau's best and brightest who had once again been roped into helping Alfred with his task of the week. Though this one was considerably more noteworthy than some of the other crusades Alfred had dragged the department into.

Being head of the department excluded him from such adventures, allowing him to take on the task of keeping his circus of a department running. For now that consisted of keeping an eye on Alfred from a distance and allowing everyone else to do the grunt work. It had been a long time since he had done any fieldwork and he enjoyed how his presence seamed to make everyone nervous.

He would be the first to admit that he had something of a temper. He yelled a lot, which, as his his wife often remarked, was bad for his blood pressure. And he did over react on occasion. He liked to say it was justified given what he dealt with on a regular basis. Honestly, he had aged almost double in his fifteen years as the Internal Liaison Bureau's chief.

On paper their job was simple, protect and keep hidden one Alfred F. Jones, The United States of America. They had all the resources of both the CIA and the FBI at their deposal; it should be a walk in the park. Except, keeping track of Alfred was a lot like trying to predict the weather, you could do all the research, have all correct science but still say sunny and then have it pour.

Alfred was enthusiastic, motivated and passionate to a fault. He could also teleport, knew every city down to the most minute detail like the back of his hand, and was a magnet for the dangerous and the ridiculous. Thus, their simple job became something a little bit impossible.

Alfred did not care for the surveillance either and, though he did not go out of his way to make their job harder, he certainly did not try to make it easier. If Alfred was not running around buying random objects because they, 'were awesome' and, 'dude, I'm jut helping the economy,' he was accidentally stumbling onto secret mafia meetings or an underground drug cash. There had been times, a lot more than he was happy admitting, when his department functioned little better than a headless chicken.

It was situations like: Alfred substituting for a history professor and accidentally teaching a room of collage student's confidential government secrets.

Alfred switching out their uniforms with I LOVE AMERICA shirts.

Alfred taking spontaneous trips to Canada without going through the correct diplomatic procedures.

Alfred disappearing down the Grand Canyon, sending the agent following him into a panic, thinking he had fallen of the edge.

Alfred propping into the Oval Office to say 'Hi!' to the president.

Alfred tricking a team of field agents into donating half their budget to AIDS research while gambling in Los Vegas. That had been a headache and a half.

Alfred convincing the logistic team to divert several trucks of military rations to the LA Homeless society. By the time the whole mess had been sorted out the rations had already been distributed. Blunt had swept the whole thing under the rug so to speak. There was no need for the logistic members to be fired, they were a good team and he had first hand experience with Alfred's persuasive nature.

The there was Alfred handing out Internal Liaison numbers on unsanctioned business cards to every, vagabond, bleeding heart and average Joe with a sob story, like they were going out of fashion. They got calls every week from these people. He did not know how Alfred did it but the calls were always serious. People in trouble. People with no one else to call. Lost houses, lose relatives, trapped, kidnapped, they heard it all. And not one prank call aside from the ones Alfred himself made. Considering the amount of the cards currently floating around in circulation it was quite a feet. So he had assigned a number of people to a call room at headquarters and made sure the issues were resolved. It was easier than having Alfred follow him around and incessantly nag him.

Sometimes it felt like that man was everywhere and nowhere at the same time and all he did was run damage control and stop all their operations from dissolving into chaos. Thus, trying to set up surveillance was an almost pointless endeavour, which he insisted on anyway. They needed to write something on the interdepartmental reports.

Alfred's work with the government came with its own set of issues. On one hand Alfred was often significantly more serious in his government work, making him less of a trouble magnet, on the other hand he tended to ignore proper procedure. One week he would be working in family affairs and the next it would be the environment. They had a running dialogue with both the FBI and the CIA in order to keep track of his exploits, making sure people who did not have clearance did not discover anything.

Then there would be weeks and even months of non-activity. In which Alfred did nothing more than wonder the streets of America's cities and spend hours upon hours simply talking to people.

Every now and then some upstart rookie would get it into his head that there was some sort of significance to the people Alfred talked too. That there was a greater design to the seemingly aimless wonderings.

Once, when he had been younger and less prone to intelligence, he had asked Alfred about his habit. And you know what he had gotten?

"Dude. You need to get out more," had been thrown him.

It took him an embarrassing long time to realise that the statement was literal command to get out and interact with the people of America.

Buzzing in his left ear distracted him from his thoughts.

He grumbled, tapping the side of his head, activating his com, "What is it Henry."

Down below Alfred pulled a section of rubble free and several people shouted. It appeared another survivor had been recovered. It was not a problem with Alfred, the man was right in front of him.

"Sir, we have a Colonel Samuel Jenson on the line…from the Canadian Internal Mediatory and International Association,"

The Canadian Internal Mediatory and International Association, a name he still did not understand, was the Canadian equivalent of the Internal Liaison Bureau.

He was well acquainted with Samuel Jenson, having a bit of an antagonistic relationship with the man.

"Jenson," he greeted once the call was transferred.

"Blunt," the gruff voice responded.

"Do you have eyes on Alfred?" was Jenison's first question. He frowned, annoyed. Jenson was always quick to make his opinion know about their lack of coordination when it came to Alfred's exploits.

"Yes. My eyes, in fact. Is Canada's enroot?" It was the main reason he received calls from the Canadian Internal Mediatory and International Association.

Jenison huffed, "Mathew disappeared off radar about 20 minuets ago. We think he is on rout to America's location."

"When you say 20 minuets is that a 'he disappeared 20 minuets ago' or a 'we just noticed he was gone 20 minuets ago," he responded, reminding that man that at least they knew where Alfred was half the time. Whatever forces kept the public from discovering Alfred, Canada had the ability dialed up to 11. The man could be alone in a room with you and you would not even notice.

"He is suspected to have disappeared 20 minuets ago," was Jenson's irritable reply.

"So he's already here," he concluded, scanning the wreckage. It was impossible to say really.

"When we notice him I'll make sure he's cleared."

They had a special procedure for Canada's visit, considering their frequency.

"Appreciated," came the forced replay before the line when dead. Blunt grumbled to himself. Asshole.

Usually it took Alfred noticing Canada before any of his people realised the other Personification was around. Something, which would have been more worrying if not for everyone else having the same problem.

Because Alfred could be very unobservant when he wanted to be this could take anywhere from a few seconds to a few hours. He turned his attention back to Alfred, scanning the area for Canada and sending out a general alert to his people. Unsurprisingly, no one had sighted anything.

He watched as Alfred effortlessly lifted a large beam, all the while chatting with and encouraging the people around him. Despite this impossible display of strength none of the workers noticed. He had long accepted it as something that just was.

Over his many years he had had a lot of time to think about and consider what, exactly, a Personification was. And, now, at the end of his career he was only just beginning to think he might have some clue.

He had been transferred into the Internal Liaison Bureau at the ripe age of twenty-two after he had accidentally offended his senior supervisor on his second field mission with the FBI. At the time the Internal Liaison Bureau was know as the place where careers went to die. Little was known about the department and, especially among the lower ranks, it was considered a dead end, which, for some reason, had several field teams. The fact that it was officially listed as a branch of the federal government whose primary job was to, 'assist in liaising between state and federal subdivisions,' did not help matters. His first years working for the Internal Liaison Bureau did nothing to change his mind. For the most part he was sent to observe politicians and occasionally civilians for random or unknown reasons. It took him a while to realise that each of his targets interacted with the same blue-eyed, blond-hired man, wearing a Word War Two bomber jacket on nearly every occasion.

When he brought up this observation with his senior officer he had received a congratulatory slap on the back and the compliment, "good for you. You know it took me three years to notice him."

Five years later he finally worked out the whole truth.

The strange man, know as Alfred F. Jones, was the human embodiment of America. Officially, they where known as Personifications and every country had one. The funny thing was the fact that he had met Alfred before as a child. It had been on a playground in which he, and several other children, had played a rousing came of tag.

As he had been a rather resentful person back then he had often bitterly contemplated how the Great United States could produce someone so blase, stupid, ignorant and carefree as their Personification. At the time it had been proof of his county's ineptitude. While every other country seemed to have a serious, hardworking Personification they had Alfred. Later he would learn how completely incorrect that thought was, other Personifications not being quite the shining bastions of nationhood he thought them to be.

At least, once he knew the whole truth about Alfred, he fitted in better with the department. It was also the start of a lot of running around and damage control.

While he had not hated the work he certainly did not enjoyed it.

He had become cynical over the years. Very cynical. When he looked at his country he saw a thousand problems. Problems hundred times too big for him. Too big for any individual. While he had grown jaded Alfred continued on with the same hopeful enthusiasm. Alfred still believed every individual made a difference.

People, in general, wanted to be better than what they were. Alfred was what America wanted to be. The idealisation. The hopes and dreams. It took him a long time to come to this rather obvious realisation. Twelve years in fact.

After that, after he put aside his bitterness about not fulfilling his dream of joining the FBI and accepted his new position, life got a lot better. Not easier, the Internal Liaison Bureau always seamed to be in a state of chaos, but better.

Two years, and a slew of promotions, later he was nominated the new department head. Thus, began a seventeen-year marathon of craziness that would drive anyone up the wall. It had been tough. Tough but rewarding.

He had done a lot of reforming. Worked in a new command structure and updated procedure. And, though he would never admit it out loud, he did like Alfred despite what a pain in the ass he could be.

And now, with a new age of technology really taking off, he felt it was time for someone younger to take on the role.

Someone more capable to keeping up with Alfred's boundless energy and ridiculousness.

Someone more qualified to deal with SHIELD, the shady spy agency looming not quite menacingly but not exactly comfortingly in the shadows. Blunt did not like them. They had become increasingly more influential over the years. Blunt knew a change in the wind when he saw it.

His com. buzzed.

"We have eyes on Canada sir," Henry Jake, communication specialist, replied.

He looked down and, sure enough there, standing next to Alfred, was Canada. How long he had been there was anyone's guess.

"Note the time and location. Lets get the paperwork through," he ordered, relishing the nostalgia making the command brought. It had been too long since he had done fieldwork.

"Yes sir,"

"And get someone to notify the Canadian Internal Mediatory and International Association."

Of course, the day before he was due to step down was the day aliens invaded New York. He had known something was coming by the increase in Alfred's activity. That and he had gotten several calls from SHIELD representatives passively aggressively imploring him to keep a tighter leash on the man. He snorted, the day he could control Alfred was the day hell froze over.

He would not miss that unpredictability. He definitely would not miss inventing new ways to lecture Alfred when he got himself in trouble. Nor would he miss getting yelled at by his superiors, the long hours spent searching for Alfred when he pulled one of his disappearing acts and the stress. He firmly blamed the job for his premature balding and grey hair.

But he would definitely miss the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction, the sense of camaraderie, and the feeling that he was making a small difference. And Alfred, in all his ridiculousness, obviously cared about his country and was okay once you got to know him. Though he could do without his continuous attempts to throw him a farewell party.

Mark Blunt, head of the Internal Liaison Bureau, looks back on his career and doesn't regret a thing.

. . . . . .

"Yeah, man you'll need a crane to lift this stuff," Alfred gestured to the columns of brink they had been carefully navigating and clearing around. Even with superior strength there was a limit to what he could do.

"No shit," Ackley snorted, waving down at Lloyd to give the all clear.

"But there's a shortage of cranes at the moment. What with a large section of the city being in shambles."

Alfred sighed, glancing over the rubble.

He blinked in surprise.

"Mattie! When did you get here!"

Mathew sighed, giving him an exasperated look, "I've been here for an hour,"

"Oh, hahaha. You really need to speak up more,"

Mathew rolled his eyes.

"Sorry I wasn't here sooner. This whole situation has caused quite a stir."

That was an understatement. Now the, 'are we alone?' question had been answered all sorts of shit would go down.

"Yeah, I mean, aliens man, who would have thought,"

"We already knew about aliens," Mathew pointed out.

"Oh right," he grinned, "But Tony doesn't really count since he's such a cool guy,"

Mathew, in a more subdue voice, he added, "It's the people I'm worried about."

He snorted, "An't we all."

They stood for a few seconds in silence. Things would definitely start changing. He was two parts excited one part absolutely terrified, not that he let it show.

With aliens and the revelation of metahumans it was going to get awfully busy very soon. A glance at Canada showed he shared a similar mindset.

"So what do you think we should do about that," Mathew gestured at the debris pile.

Alfred once again turned to examine the problem before him, "Four hundred years of experience between us, I 'm sure we can rig something up."

. . . . . .

AUTHORS NOTE: Yeah, Sorry if you read this before I edited. The last few lines were part of a future chapter I am writing. They have since been deleted. Thank you to the person who pointed it out.