I was well ahead of schedule on Book 24, partially because I was moving faster, and partially because I understood very well the forces at play in this Book. I had been asked to create an island retreat with a large mansion, and minimal furnishings. The Book would become the site used for corporate retreats, and boasted a wide spread of terrain features, from woods to large meadows and mountains. It would likely be finished within the next week, with only about a hundred pages to go. Unfortunately, when Writing a Descriptive Book, no magic may be used in the process, lest it taint the Book, but the Linking Books play differently. As such, I have found it rather easy to create extra Linking Books back to Earth. That process takes nearly five minutes, and that only because of the limitations of the particular spell used to do it.
I was shaken from my thoughts by the intercom. "Natasha Romanoff to see you, sir." I sighed, and finished the complex character I was working on, and set down my pen.
When the elevators opened, a being possessed of deadly grace stalked imperiously out of the elevator. "I've been sent to find out precisely what happened to Director Fury, and why," she said, approaching the desk.
"I'll get around to answering that in a bit, but first I'd like to ask, how were you recruited into SHIELD?" I asked calmly. "Oh, and would you like a drink?"
"Water will be fine," she answered. "Clint Barton chose not to kill me, and instead brought me to SHIELD. I have worked for them ever since."
"Hmm. I'm not sure if that's any better than what happened with me," I said, sitting down. She sniffed cautiously at the water, and I could have sworn I saw a test strip of some kind for a moment. "Fury came to me, and threatened to treat me as an enemy if I refused to be his subordinate ally. I've been around for a lot longer than anyone cares to think, and I have no desire to be under his command."
"How much 'longer' are you talking about?" Romanoff asked.
"I'm two hundred and thirty one years old," I answered sedately.
"The Captain is about ninety years old, but he looks about thirty five, because of the accident when he was frozen in the Arctic ice. How'd you get to this time?" Natasha asked bluntly.
"The hard way," I replied. "By living each and every year. 'Course, it's been easier for me than for others. Some people dedicated their lives to immortality, I managed to succeed through sheer dumb luck."
"You are immortal?" Natasha asked, raising one elegant eyebrow.
"Yes. I've stopped aging, but I can still be killed. Someone could put a bullet through my head, I could get run over, I could even get hit by lightning. That said, while luck has played a factor, I've not lived this long by being stupid."
"Interesting. How did you survive the World Wars?" she asked.
"Linking Book. Any time that it got too hot in my neighborhood, I simply relocated my main base of operations, and then Linked out," I answered.
"Not much of a fighter," Natasha sniffed. "Why would Fury want you?"
"Because while I'm not much good in a fight, my talents in logistics are well worth my poor fighting ability. Now, I believe I've deviated from the original question of what happened to Fury and why," I said, lacing my fingers together behind my head. "The why? He pissed me off, and so I did something about it. As for the what: I led Fury into a pseudo trap. He will be able to exit as soon as he figured out the puzzles. Essentially, he's putting together a jigsaw puzzle…after putting together the pieces for it. It's all physical science in some manner or another, and if he sits down and thinks about it, he'll be able to escape the puzzle. Besides which, I've left a week of food and water in an easily accessible location, so he should be fine."
"I see." Romanoff delicately placed the empty glass on the desk. "Is Stark telling the truth? He claims that you've agreed to help, in exchange for ideas or money, whichever can be obtained more easily."
"It is the truth. I am to be paid as soon as the crisis is past," I answered calmly.
"Mph. Not much of a hero."
"I believe I explicitly explained to Stark that I am not a hero. I am a business man, and I work for profit. I don't have much skin in the game here, you know," I reminded the assassin.
"I suppose I don't really have room to talk," she muttered at last. "I'm glad Fury is still alive. I want to see him back on Earth soon, or I may have to come back and make you retrieve him. You might not like the man, but we need him for this."
"As you say," I replied, in a bored tone of voice. "If his skills are anything approaching par, he'll be fine, I'm sure."
"Then our business is concluded for the moment," Natasha said, standing up. "Have a good day."
A/N: Not terribly fond of this chapter, but after nearly a week of silence, something needed to be done. And yes, I know that this version of Natasha is…off. Sorry about that.
