Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; that's owned by J.K. Rowling. I don't own the Avengers, either; that's owned by Marvel.

Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Vengeance? No! Avenger!" by DeadLandMarshall. Harry and Hermione are alone during the Horcrux Hunt when they hear loud noises out in the forest. Fearing that they might have been discovered, they investigate, only to find themselves caught up in a conflict even larger than the one they'd been involved with.


Chapter 07 - Joint Task Forces

Puente Antiguo, New Mexico. Late September, 2009.

"Uh, Thor? Do you have a minute?" Jane asked. The man had been working for her for several days now, and she'd barely spoken a handful of words to him in all that time. She wanted to say that it was because of how busy she was, what with setting her equipment back up, integrating the new machines, analyzing all the data... but she knew that wasn't the whole truth.

If she was going to be perfectly honest — something that as a scientist she believed was an ethical and professional duty — she was completely overwhelmed by him. He had a... presence that made her weak in the knees and totally destroyed her ability to speak or think coherently. She had a pretty good idea of what was going on with her and wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she knew it wasn't something she could run away from forever.

Darcy's attempts to keep giving him dollar bills wasn't helping, though.

"Yes, Miss Foster? How may I be of service?" Once again, she felt caught by his gaze, but she took a deep breath and pushed past it, forcing herself to interact with the man like an adult.

"Please, call me Jane."

"Very well, then. Jane," he said, giving her a dazzling smile, almost as if he were trying to make things harder for her. She knew he wasn't, though, which frankly only made him more attractive.

"I know I said this before, but I'd like to apologize again for hitting you with my truck." She quickly looked around as if expecting Darcy to pop up again, then continued, "Twice. I still feel bad about that."

Thor dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. "Think nothing of it. I bear you no ill will for those events. Quite the opposite, in fact, for if you had not struck me down with your vehicle, we would not have met."

"Uh... that's true, I guess," Jane said, and Thor smiled even more broadly.

"Then the outcome was for the best," he concluded.

"OK, sure."

"Was there anything else?"

"Oh, right!" Jane said. "I, uh, I also wanted to thank you for helping out around here. I know it's not the most exciting work, but you've made it possible for us to get up and running so much more quickly than we would have managed otherwise. It's... well, it's great."

"See?" Thor said. "Being struck down by you was fortuitous indeed!"

"I'm not sure the authorities would approve of that method of finding new employees," Jane said under her breath.

"So, you're making progress in your investigations, then?" Thor asked, sounding genuinely interested. "Are you achieving the goals you've set for yourself?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Jane answered, not having expected to be asked about her work. "Between the data we collected earlier and the new equipment provided by S.H.I.E.L.D., we're ahead of where I expected to be."

"Do you trust these S.H.I.E.L.D. people?" Thor asked, suddenly frowning. "They strike me as the distrustful sort, and those who cannot bring themselves to trust others are rarely deserving of trust themselves."

"That's a good point," Jane said thoughtfully. "I'll keep it in mind. To be honest, I don't entirely trust them. So long as their goals and mine are aligned, I trust that they'll help and support me; I just need to be on guard for when our goals diverge, though."

"That is wise," Thor observed. "The wolf that chooses to share your fire one night may turn on you the next and steal what is yours."

"Uh... yeah, that's probably true," Jane replied a bit uncertainly. "They did take my Pinzgauer."

"Your what?" Thor asked, his own confusion apparent.

"My Pinz... my vehicle. They said they want to fix it up, install new equipment, and other things," Jane explained. "That was nice of them, I guess, but I kind of like all of its rattles and quirks. They help make it unique." Thor frowned, still lost, until she said, "It's like an old friend who has some annoying habits, but you wouldn't want them to change because then they wouldn't be the same person anymore."

Thor suddenly let loose a deep belly laugh. "Yes, I understand very well indeed! I had four good friends at home who fit that description perfectly."

"Anyway, now that everything is set up, we won't have nearly as much for you to do," Jane continued. "You don't have to leave — I'm sure we'll be able to find more for you at some point, especially as you learn how things work around here. I mean, if Darcy can fit in, I'm sure you can. But... well, i don't want you to feel obligated to stay, if you think you're ready to move on."

"I have no intention or desire to move on any time soon. Unless, of course, you feel that I've overstayed my welcome with you."

"No, no!" Jane protested. "It's just that you said you wanted to find a new path for yourself, and a path requires movement. Not idly standing in one place all the time."

"Yet you are not idle, despite how much time you have spent here."

"Of course not, I'm learning and doing new things," Jane said. "I like the people here, too. I feel... I feel at home."

"As do I," Thor said with a warm smile, and Jane found herself smiling back.

"Would you like to see some of what I've been working on?" she asked. When he nodded, she led him outside and up on the roof, where they sat and talked through the night.


Remote Cabin, Pacific Northwest.

"You're looking awfully chipper this morning," Betty said as she entered the kitchen. "Oh, you even made breakfast!" She sat down and eagerly dug into the french toast which Bruce had prepared. Although neither of them had been willing to talk about it, the fact that highly perishable bread, milk, cream, meat, and eggs were among the foods that had somehow been staying preserved in the basement was just one of the many things in this cabin that was challenging their understanding of reality. It bothered them, but it didn't bother them nearly enough to not enjoy it.

Once she'd sated her initial hunger, she asked, "So what's got you in such a good mood this morning? You've been a bit withdrawn and quiet the past few days."

"Ever since our conversation about how I might have been going about things the wrong way..." Bruce began, and Betty nodded encouragingly, her mouth full of bacon. "...Well, I've since determined that you were right. I took the two insights you offered, which was to be gentle and seek compromise, and added a third, which was to look for ways to channel negative emotions rather than simply suppressing them."

Betty gave him a sidelong look. "Channeling negative emotions? You got that from Oprah, didn't you?"

"No!" Bruce said, a little too quickly. Her eyes narrowed, but she gestured for him to continue.

"Anyway, uh, all that takes me in the opposite direction of trying to suppress my anger and, by implication, the Other Guy."

"And where does that leave you now?" she asked.

"It's hard to say. I guess it's sort of a truce, kind of like what you suggested. I don't keep trying to cage him, and he doesn't keep trying to bust out."

"And it's... I mean, well, he's OK with that?"

"Not exactly," Bruce admitted with a slight grimace. "I'm sure that he'd love to be out all the time. Or more often, at any rate, but he's not stupid. He seems to recognize that a giant green... guy that smashes everything, even if by accident, will not be easily accepted. The fact that every time he's come out before has resulted in mass destruction doesn't help, and I think he recognizes that, too. I believe he's willing to bide his time, at least for now, so long as he does get some freedom."

"Do you have conversations?" Betty asked, looking surprised.

Bruce shook his head. "Nothing anywhere close to that, really. I'm extrapolating and interpreting a lot. He might not be stupid, but he is primal. Any language he uses is quite simple. Though actually... I do have some prior experience interpreting what I get from him. For a long time now, I've been getting these little messages or suggestions. I used to believe that it was akin to how any animal is able to sense danger, like horses sensing an oncoming thunderstorm, but it turns out that there's more going on there than I realized. I'm quite sure that he's amused at how much I've had to change my assumptions about him."

"But you're communicating, at least," Betty said, and Bruce nodded. "How are you going to handle him wanting out?"

"That's going to take time to work out," Bruce said. "Since he's most... awake, I guess, when he's angry, he's most likely to want out when I'm angry. If he believes that I'll let him out when it's genuinely appropriate, and then I actually do so, then I may have enough influence to... aim him, I suppose. He'll still be incredibly destructive, but maybe he won't cause too much collateral damage if he understands my preferences."

"Well, that sounds good," Betty offered. "It seems like you've made a lot of progress over the past few days. More than you managed over the previous few years, at any rate. Do you think you'll ever get to the point where he's not trying to smash everything he sees?"

Bruce frowned. "Betty, don't misunderstand this situation. He's not a lost puppy that needs love and understanding to get him to behave appropriately. He's much more like a vicious junkyard dog who's willing to heel so long as he thinks your aims and his are in alignment. He's a creature of rage and always will be. If I can give him targets to express his rage against, he'll allow himself to be influenced by me. That's all."

Betty's previous optimism suddenly turned to worry as she asked, "And what happens when those aims aren't in alignment anymore?"

"That's a good question," Bruce said. "It's why I desperately need to work out a Plan B."


S.H.I.E.L.D. Site Near Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.

"I've got bad news and I've got worse news," Fury said without preamble when Coulson answered his phone. "The bad news is that I still haven't found any solid leads on who might have attacked Granger. No one who has a grudge against her specifically and no one who might want to target your operation in New Mexico."

"I wish I could say I was surprised," Coulson responded. "I've yet to come up with any leads here, either."

"The worse news is that I've been unable to track down someone that we both know and dislike: General Ross."

"Do you think that he...?"

"I have no idea," Fury said. "Attacking a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent like that is unprecedented and career suicide. On the other hand, Ross doesn't exactly have a history of following the rules when he thinks he's right. What's more, he's not popular in D.C. these days. Well, less popular than normal. No one will tell me where he is or what he's doing, but they also aren't defending him, either, which is unusual. In the past they would give me the brush off and tell me what a great patriot he is. Not anymore."

"Something's changed," Coulson said.

"Something's changed," Fury agreed, "but I don't know what, and that bothers me. I've got nothing specific that points to him as being behind the attack, but not knowing where he is so soon after your altercation with him bothers me even more."

"There are a lot of military bases in this region," Coulson said, thinking aloud. "Lots of military personnel moving around."

"Yeah, I thought about that, too."

"And if he doesn't have any more support in the government, he may think that he has nothing left to lose," Coulson said. "Someone backed into a corner like that becomes especially dangerous."

"All true," Fury said. "On the other hand, even if he's got a grudge against you for stopping him in Harlem, it's not like your movements are public knowledge. How would he have found you? And why attack Granger if he has something against you personally or S.H.I.E.L.D. generally? Those are the sorts of things people would ask if I went to the Pentagon to accuse him of anything."

"So we're right back where we started, watching and waiting to see if someone attacks again."

"I'm afraid so, and I don't like it any more than you do," Fury said. "We're supposed to be able to stop threats before they hurt anyone, not sit around waiting to get sucker-punched. And that's why I made the decision yesterday to accelerate that project you and I have been working on."

"Really?" Coulson said, sounding both pleased and disappointed at the same time. "That's great. I mean... well, I expected to be there for the final stages, but..."

"I know, and I'm sorry to pull the rug out from under you like this, but it's become too much of a priority. I did want to let you know in advance, though."

"I understand, sir," Coulson said, all business again. "The mission comes first, not my personal feelings."

"You're a good man, Agent Coulson," Fury said before the connection was terminated.

Coulson closed his eyes for a moment, then smiled with genuine happiness before getting back to work.


"So... this is an interesting place to meet," Hermione said, looking out over the desert surrounding the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. It was her first time in Hawkeye's "nest," and while she wasn't as nervous about heights as she had been when she was attending Hogwarts, she didn't typically seek them out, either.

"With Clint napping, this was the most private place to meet, at least during the day," Iris said. "If it were safe for me to use magic, I could apparate us to Tintagel, but I wouldn't be comfortable leaving like that, even briefly. I do know you said you had a remote cabin somewhere in America, but I wasn't sure if you could tandem-apparate us there."

"Oh, uh, it can't be used right now," Hermione said nervously.

Iris was about to ask what she meant, but they were both distracted by the loud cawing of a raven sitting at the tip of the crane's boom arm. Iris frowned. "I've been meaning to ask you — are ravens common in the desert?"

"I honestly don't know," Hermione answered, "but I'm quite sure that the behavior we've been seeing isn't common. Well, not to ravens, at any rate — dogs, maybe, but not ravens. What that one raven did at the rune site was odd enough, but the other raven leading you to me was completely unprecedented."

"It's gotta be all the decades of nuclear testing those bloody Americans have been doing in this region. Who knows what sorts of mutated animals are wandering around out there? Hagrid would love it..."

"It doesn't matter — we need to talk now," Hermione insisted.

"So, the tests you had me run last night," Iris said. "I'm no expert, but they looked like..."

"Yes, I've changed," Hermione said. "I don't match the readings they took of you at Harlem, but I'm closer now than I was before."

"And you think you're changing because of me?" Iris asked, clearly still uncomfortable with the idea.

"Well, I obviously can't be completely certain, but... but I can't think of any other explanation," Hermione said. "Nothing else fits the data. I suppose I could be sure if we tested it — if we had you do it again then immediately tested me..."

"What?" Iris asked, her head whipping around to face the other witch. "Are you suggesting...?"

"No, I'm not," Hermione answered quickly, holding up her hands to placate Iris. "At least not yet. It will probably be the only way to be sure about what's going on, but I don't want to even think about doing it until we know more about how the changes are affecting me."

Iris took a deep breath to calm herself. "Have you noticed any changes? Do you think you're magically stronger? Have you felt any problems with maintaining control?"

"I feel... energized, I think, but that's not the same as feeling stronger," Hermione answered. "Unfortunately, I can't test myself. It's possible that I am stronger, but I doubt it's by much. I might be able to tell if I tried casting some high-level spells like you can cast, but they tend to be on the destructive side."

"Well, so far in our daily sparring sessions, you haven't shown any more evidence of being able to use your magic to enhance your strength and reflexes — not like when you attacked Hammer. If it wasn't a fluke, then you still need to figure out what you did to make it happen the first time."

The two witches were silent for several long moments before Iris asked, "What are you thinking?"

Hermione didn't answer immediately, but eventually she said, "I'll be honest with you, Iris, I'm a little scared."

"Of?"

"Of... me. Us. We both know that you have a problem, but I've been confident that even if I couldn't find a solution, I'd at least be able to keep you grounded. Both times that you lost control, you showed evidence of being able to regain it again for my sake. That gave me a lot of hope."

"But?"

"But I'm a lot less confident if I can't keep myself grounded," Hermione said. "Let's face facts: neither of us has a great track record when it comes to being completely calm and rational where the other's safety is concerned. Though, to be fair, you're a whole lot worse."

"What? That's not true!" Iris protested.

"Pfft! You're the one who tried to attack Bellatrix Lestrange with your bare hands after she called me a mudblood."

"Bitch deserved it," Iris muttered.

"Just proving my point!"

"Yeah, well... you... you're the one who thought it was a good idea to imitate a werewolf mating call. At night. To attract a transformed werewolf."

Hermione shook her head. "That was a rash decision, but it was hardly one that expressed violent urges. Not like, say, hunting down a millennium-old basilisk because you were pissed off at it."

"It hurt you," Iris said with a pout.

"My point exactly."

"And what about you, hexing those boys who wouldn't take no for an answer when I kept refusing to go to the Yule Ball with them?"

"What?" Hermione asked a little defensively. "They all recovered. Eventually. Look, that isn't at all the same thing as you jumping on the back of an enraged troll to save me."

"Granted, but don't forget that after a little more than two months at Hogwarts, you set a professor on fire — and Severus Snape no less — because you thought he was hexing my broom. And you were wrong, to boot!"

Hermione's brows furrowed in consternation for a few moments before she said, "OK, OK, maybe you've got a point. Maybe I can be as bad as you. But you see, that's why I'm a little scared. How can I keep you grounded if I'm as likely to lose control as you are? Or what if, Merlin forbid, we actually feed off each other, each pushing the other to ever greater acts of violence against those we think are threats to us? If we both lose ourselves, who will pull us back?"

Iris reached out and drew her girlfriend into a tight embrace which lasted until she finally felt the tension in Hermione's shoulders ease a little. Drawing back just enough to look the other witch in the eye, she said intently, "Like you said the other night, I'd rather face this with you than with anyone else. No matter what happens, I honestly believe that as long as I'm with you, I won't truly lose myself."


They were lucky that they had already started to lower the nest when the storm hit. The sky went black in mere minutes, and high winds buffeted everyone unlucky enough to be outside. It wasn't much better inside, though, given that the structure's walls were made of plastic.

"Agent Cale, report!" Coulson shouted, struggling to be heard above the howling winds as he entered the main analysis room.

"Sir, a massive geomagnetic storm came out of nowhere!" Cale hollered back.

"Where's it centered?" Coulson asked, walking from one station to the next in an effort to gain an overview of the situation.

"Sir..."

"What is it?"

"Sir, the center of the storm is only a few hundred meters from here," Cale answered as his face blanched.

"Well, then, there's no excuse not to check it out," Coulson asserted before calling for a tactical team to suit up.

By the time they exited the temporary building, the storm had disappeared completely, leaving clear blue skies; by the time they got to the front gates, they had visitors.

"And who might you be?" Colson asked, looking over the four odd people who seemed to be completely out of place. Their clothing gave them the appearance of staff at some sort of Renaissance Faire, but he quickly concluded that the weapons they carried were real, not fakes. He suspected that they were all proficient in their use, too, even including the big man who had a massive, double-headed battle-axe strapped to his back.

"I am the Lady Sif," the woman announced. "These are the Warriors Three. Hogun the Grim, Fandral the Dashing, and Volstagg the Valiant."

"How interesting," Coulson said. "And what brings you four here?"

"It's, uh, hard to explain," Volstagg, the largest, answered. "We were, uh, drawn here."

"We are looking for a good friend of ours," Fandral added. "We believe he might be here."

"Somehow I doubt that," Coulson responded, "but if you give me his name, I can check."

"Thor," Sif answered. "His name is Thor."

"He's definitely not here," Coulson said. "He's in town."

"And where is that?" Hogun asked.

"That way," Coulson answered, pointing towards the west. Immediately, all four began to walk in that direction. "It's over twelve miles," Coulson called out to them, but none so much as paused in their steps.

"We could give you a ride!" shouted Hermione, who had just walked up with Iris. At this, the four strangers all stopped and turned back to see who had spoken. Iris said softly to Coulson, "Someone should keep an eye on them and find out what's going on. What better way to do that than to be helpful?"

Coulson nodded. "Good idea, take..." He gave Volstagg an appraising look, then said, "Better take the Pinzgauer, if you want to accommodate everyone. We finished upgrading it yesterday anyway and haven't had a chance to return it to Dr. Foster." Iris nodded and jogged to get the truck while Hermione exited through the gate to greet the four visitors. Once Iris had driven everyone away, Coulson led a team over to the circle that had been newly burned onto the desert ground a few hundred meters from the base.


Asgard.

Loki frowned deeply as he sat alone in his throne room. A few days ago, everything had seemed to be going so well. He ruled Asgard. Odin had slipped into Odinsleep, thus ensuring that he couldn't interfere. He had killed Laufey, leader of the Jotuns, in the midst of an assassination attempt on Odin which he himself had engineered. His brother, Thor, was languishing in exile, working as a common laborer for a couple of mortal women.

Honestly, life couldn't have been much better. All he lacked was the Black Witch — the equal which the prophecy had predicted for him — and he'd have been set for the next several thousand years!

But then Sif and the Stooges Three had to go and mess everything up! They had committed treason by going to Midgard to seek out Thor. They'd surely tell him the truth that his father was alive, thus giving him reason to break exile and return.

Loki sighed, dispirited but resigned to the only course of action that seemed open to him now. He would have been content to let his brother live out a drab, meaningless life amongst the mortals, but he couldn't take the chance that Thor would return and ruin his plans. No, he had to take drastic action now, and it was all the fault of those four treasonous warriors.

Well, those four and one treasonous Guardian. First he'd have to take care of Heimdall, then he'd send an agent to eliminate both Thor and the others.

And then, maybe, he could relax and enjoy the throne once more. It was good to be the king.


Gamma Base, New Mexico.

"Gentlemen, I'm glad to finally meet you all," Ross said as he looked at each of the six team commanders squeezed into his office. Although he hadn't been able to call in any more favors, he had managed to convince a few people that there was an immediate threat serious enough to warrant the assignment of six special forces teams to his base. That had required being a bit liberal with the truth, and there would be a huge price to pay if no serious threat materialized.

He was certain, though, that the threat was there. No one who saw Subject Red in action could deny how much of a threat she was... or how much of an asset she could be, if properly tamed and studied. He was confident that with the right push, the threat she represented could be made public. Then, if he could capture her alive, he'd finally be able to begin the experiments that would provide for the defense and supremacy of the United States for decades to come.

First, though, he needed to tell these team commanders what he wanted them to know. Just enough to ensure their cooperation, but not so much that they would begin asking awkward questions.

"It's good to be here, General," Captain Billingsham said. "Unfortunately, our mission brief before assignment here was... minimal, and that's being rather generous. I'm sure I speak for us all when I say that I'd like to know more about what we're doing here — what we're facing and what the ultimate mission goals are supposed to be."

"I'm glad you asked," Ross said with a tight smile. "We are currently engaged in the surveillance of a S.H.I.E.L.D. site in the desert. They found something, or at least that's what they claim, but they haven't seen fit to share any information about it with the U.S. government. Technically they have the authority to investigate situations like this, though I'm sure it won't surprise you that the Joint Chiefs are starting to get tired of being left out of the loop on things that are happening inside the borders of our own country."

Ross watched them all stiffen and nod, pleased to have gotten the reaction he was aiming for. "Unfortunately, there isn't anything we can do about that, at least not right now. Unless or until the Beltway clerks and REMFs decide to rein in such behavior, we're going to have to put up with it." A couple of the team leaders grumbled softly, and Ross hid a smile. "Our concern is something different. Or rather, someone." He then passed around copies of a photograph stapled to a one-sheet dossier.

"We've been calling her Subject Red, but a couple of days ago Colonel Fortean received some files from a Russian contact of his which has led us to conclude that she's the same person formerly known as the Black Widow, a graduate of an old Soviet training program. A number of high-profile assassinations have been attributed to her over the years, though no direct evidence or eyewitnesses have ever been produced."

"How sure are you of her identity?" Captain Kershaw asked.

"We peg it at being about ninety percent certain," Ross answered, silently adding that he was ninety percent certain that they weren't the same person. A careful investigation of the blurry, grainy photographs had revealed subtle but real differences in the two women, differences that couldn't easily be accounted for in the same individual. The biggest piece of evidence, though, was the fact that none of the reports about the Black Widow mentioned her ever demonstrating the sorts of powers and abilities that he'd personally seen Subject Red use.

So there was no way that they were the same person, but it was just plausible enough to be believable. Since the Black Widow was rumored to have actually died, she wasn't likely to pop up somewhere else and ruin his story. Once Subject Red demonstrated how much of a threat she was, no one would care if she was or wasn't the Black Widow.

"Why would S.H.I.E.L.D. employ a terrorist like this?" Major Childers asked. "I mean, surely they know who she is, right?"

Ross sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately, S.H.I.E.L.D. is not bound by national laws and values like we are. It doesn't matter how many people this woman has assassinated over the years — if they can use her as an asset, they will bring her in and give her a job. Now, I can understand hiring someone who hacked your computers to improve your computer security, but a killer like her? And on American soil, too, walking around, free to do whatever she wants? That doesn't sit well with me, gentlemen. No, it doesn't sit well at all, and I don't intend to let the situation continue."

And he could tell immediately that the team commanders all agreed with him. He was, however, concerned about the dark expression on the face of Captain Kershaw. The man had lost an entire team in an ambush several years previously, and the action had later been attributed to the Black Widow. Ross made a mental note to tell Talbot to keep an eye on him, just in case.

"So what's the mission?" Captain Rollins asked. "No matter what she's done, I don't see S.H.I.E.L.D. giving her up without a fight, and I'm not sure how a firefight with their agents would look."

"You're absolutely right, this is a tricky situation," Ross admitted. "And it's why your teams were picked for this mission. You're the ones who were trusted most by the Pentagon to get this done, and get it done right." They all straightened a little at the praise. "Ideally, we want her alive if we can capture her. If she's dead, she can't be interrogated or put on trial, both of which are high priorities. This needs to be done with minimal casualties, both among civilians and among the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel they've got at their base." He pulled down a roll-up map hanging behind his desk and pointed to the prominently marked locations of the town and the base.

"Fortunately, there's twelve miles of desert and road between the two, and she's been spotted moving between them several times. I had hoped that we could capture her ourselves, but I've determined that our chances of success would be rather low. Since we'll only get one shot at this, I didn't want to risk it. That's when I started making phone calls and found your teams." Everyone nodded and leaned forward slightly as Ross described the base, the town, and the terrain in between — all of which they immediately saw would make for a very, very difficult snatch and grab mission.

They were among the best of America's special forces teams, though, and quickly got down to work discussing various options and plans, depending on the time of day, the weather, and how many people Subject Red might be with when they made their move. They'd been at it for almost two hours when there was a pounding on the door, and abruptly it opened without the person on the other side waiting for permission.

"Corporal!" Ross rebuked the man. "What do you think you're—"

"Sir, I'm sorry, but something's happening at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. There's some sort of attack going on!"

Ross rose from his seat and motioned for the team leaders to follow. "Let's get to the communications center. Corporal, start telling me everything you know."


S.H.I.E.L.D. Site Near Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.

"I don't suppose that's one of Stark's, is it?" Agent Garrett asked, his voice betraying how nervous he was.

"Somehow, I doubt it," Coulson muttered before calling out to the large metal... thing that had appeared in a blinding flash of light in front of them moments before. "Attention! You appear to be using unregistered and unauthorized weapons technology." The face of the thing started glowing bright red, but Coulson was undaunted. "You are instructed to surrender now. If you—"

The rest of his speech was cut off as he dove to the side, narrowly escaping the beam of energy that blew up the car he'd been standing in front of. The rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents followed his lead as the other vehicles were systematically destroyed as well. They all quickly regrouped around what little cover they could find, but the metallic enemy ignored them, choosing instead to begin walking towards town... only stopping long enough to destroy the S.H.I.E.L.D. base along the way, killing an unknown number of agents, technicians, and support staff who had been inside, completely unaware of the danger.

Coulson opened his phone and hit the speed dial button for the Director. Whatever that thing was, it was well beyond the ability of his small teams to handle. If only...

"Garrett!" he shouted. "Call Potter and Granger to warn them!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Coulson, what's the problem?' he heard Fury ask as he put the phone back to his ear.

"Sir, I think I'm going to need that backup you offered. Is there any chance of him getting here quickly?"

"As a matter of fact, he's suited up and flying in to you now. He should be there within the hour. Why, has General Ross surfaced?"

"No, it's much, much worse than that..."