Survivor
Somewhere in the Northwestern isolated regions of Alaska…
After escaping Russia, Taskmaster and Crossbones reached another one of the mercenary's secret bunkers deep in one of Alaska's forests. Once inside, Crossbones helped himself to some food in a storage container while Taskmaster accessed Hydra's network to get a secure transmission to Baron Strucker.
Once the connection reached the leader of Hydra, his face appeared on the monitor screen.
"It would appear that your mission went as planned, Taskmaster."
"It has and I'm still waiting for the funds to reach my account."
"Check again."
The burner phone on his hip vibrated and it displayed a hefty transaction from a Swiss bank account to his bank account.
"I'm wiring your accomplice's funds to him as we speak," the baron added.
"Good," Crossbones grunted, "I'm not doing this for free."
"I see. I'm also informed that you delivered the device to our men at the portside city, yes?"
"That's correct," Taskmaster affirmed, "It'll be in New York in a couple of months."
"We won't have any trouble with customs, yes?"
"Don't you worry about that," Crossbones interrupted, "I have connections with the government. Customs won't be an issue."
"Good. Then, our operation is coming along smoothly."
"Don't be so sure," Taskmaster warned, "We still have S.H.I.E.L.D. to worry about. No doubt Fury and his team are well-aware of what was stolen and have initiated countermeasures."
"No need to worry about that. My man with the Security Council assures me that he'll continue to stonewall Fury's efforts until it's far too late for the director to do anything about it."
"How can you be sure of that?" Crossbones skeptically asked, "This is Nick Fury we're talking about here. The man has disobeyed orders in the past for the 'greater good'."
"He's right," Taskmaster concurred, "What's our contingency if Fury decides to handle this 'his' way?"
"Then we kill them all. Is it not that simple?" Strucker darkly answered.
"Killing Nick Fury will cost you extra."
"Triple, in fact," Crossbones added.
The leader of Hydra simply sighed.
"We will see once we cross that bridge. Won't we?"
"That's not mentioning if any 'super' decides to show up and ruin the plan. We should be on the lookout for that," Crossbones sternly advised.
"The only hero we have to worry about is Iron Man. The rest of the Avengers are on their own assignments across the world. Trust me, I've triple-checked," Taskmaster informed them, "…and if it's just Iron Man, then there isn't much to worry about."
"What about that freak that can shoot webs? What was his name… Human Spider? Spider-Man?"
"He's no threat once the final stage of the plan comes into play."
"I hope you are right," Strucker wondered aloud, "I'm culminating all of Hydra's resources into completing this operation. Mistakes cannot be afforded."
"Hmm… Well, have you heard of any news about that 'iceman' Fury found?" Taskmaster then curiously asked.
Strucker simply brushed it off.
"I know as much as you do."
"Why are we so worried?" Crossbones chuckled, "He's probably dead."
A silence followed, with Taskmaster glaring directly at Baron Strucker through the screen. The baron simply tried to avoid the mercenary's sight.
"Strucker…" Taskmaster then spoke, "…knows as much as I do that there are certain things that were done at that facility that may have produced… unwanted threats."
"…and they were contained," the baron subtly pleaded.
"Apparently not. There was somebody they found in the basement. It would be wise of you and the rest of Hydra to find out exactly who they found."
Later that evening, inside the director's office of the Triskelion…
"Special Agent José Leon Monterroso, codename: Jaguar…" Agent Hill spoke, placing folders and folders of information in front of Director Fury.
"…he was born in El Salvador, but fled the country with his uncle during the height of the Salvadoran Civil War. They immigrated to Los Angeles in 1983, when he was only ten years old. He lived in a small apartment with his uncle and cousins until the rise of gang violence amongst the refugees forced him to leave once his parents were able to obtain passage to the United States.
"He arrived to the D.C. area with his mom and dad in 1987 and lived in Alexandria, Virginia for the rest of his time with them. His teachers would often note that he was a cocky young kid with an interesting sense of humor. Throughout high school, he got into fights and watched his grades slowly decline. Eventually, graduation came, and he had nowhere to go and mom and dad didn't have enough money to send him off to college.
"So, where does he go? He joins the U.S. Navy and is attached to 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines, Kilo Company, as a Corpsman. The kid's barely 18 when he gets deployed to Kuwait during Desert Storm. There, he meets Lance Corporal Alejandro Cruz and Lance Corporal Marc Spector, who would eventually become his close friends and would follow him once he left the Navy."
"I remember Cruz," Coulson then interrupted, "I'm the one that sent his offer to join S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Right, as I was saying," she continued, "After the military, they both attended our training academy in upstate New York and all three received exemplary marks by their team handlers. Their dossiers were handed directly to Agent Anthony Masters who took them in as the newer members of Nemesis Unit."
"So that answers how they ended up here," the director wondered aloud, "…but what happened to them? How did Mr. Monterroso find himself encased in ice in the middle of a Canadian Hydra facility?"
"That's where it gets tricky, sir. See, their team, 'Specter Haven', was assigned on several missions that weren't officially 'sanctioned' by S.H.I.E.L.D. or the World Security Council. Most of them were against Hydra operations around the world. Their last operation, 'Skullslayer', took place in Canada, but it doesn't say where nor does it say why they were there to begin with."
"We all know what ended up happening to Masters," Coulson sighed, "He went rogue and swore to destroy us one day. That was a long time ago, though."
"Well, the Skullslayer report only states that Spector, Cruz, and Monterroso were all killed-in-action and that their bodies weren't recoverable. Then Director Pierce labeled Specter Haven, Nemesis Unit a failure and ordered it disbanded. Taskmaster disappears from the records after that."
Fury listened closely to Hill's report, dissecting each fact as much as possible and reviewed the documents attached to her findings as comprehensively as he could. While they discovered his identity and who he was attached to, none of this still made sense.
What exactly was Operation Skullslayer and what was their purpose in the facility? Surely, it must've been connected to Hydra's human experiments, but what did they find? How did they get caught?
How did Taskmaster escape?
"Could it be possible that Cruz and Spector are still alive, then?" Coulson curiously asked.
Hill simply shrugged.
"I don't see how. We scrubbed that facility from top to bottom and turned up with nothing. Besides Monterroso, of course."
"Let's keep an eye on him," Fury firmly ordered, pointing his index finger at Monterroso's profile, "With his amnesia, he won't be able to remember much, but we can still work with him. The doctor tells me there's a strong possibility that he'll begin to remember fragments of his memory as time goes on."
"How are we going to explain to him that it's 2019, sir? We're far ahead of 1998, you know."
"I'm aware, Hill. Trust me, I was there. I suppose we can tell him the truth. But, be delicate. I don't know how he's going to handle being gone for over twenty years. I can only assume so much based off his demeanor."
"He'll want to find out about his team members, his parents even," Coulson pointed out.
"Until we get more information, I believe it best to keep him in the dark until he has time to process his new reality."
"I'll see if I can contact the Monterroso family," Hill volunteered, "If he said they lived here in D.C., it won't be hard to pull up residence records and find out where they are now."
"Good idea. In the meantime, I think we should also assign him a handler. Someone that can get him up to speed with the times and perhaps observe him and study him."
"What for, if I may ask, sir?" Coulson inquired.
"Jaguar gave us a run for our money the moment he woke up. I'd rather we be fully prepared for whatever he might throw at us if and when he decides to escape again. At this present time, he's an unknown, a survivor of an unraveling mystery. We can't help him until we find out more."
"Well, I recommend assigning Ayala to this, sir. If anyone can keep him in check and observe him adequately, it'd be her," Hill suggested.
"Excellent plan, Hill. Notify her in the morning."
"Will do, sir."
"Looks like we have our work cut out for us, agents. Let's get some rest and continue this conversation later."
"Yes, sir," the two of them acknowledged.
Inside the training offices near the simulation room…
Ava began packing up her stuff after finalizing a few last minute training reports on the rookies she oversaw today. She had procrastinated on doing the paperwork in order to squeeze in more time on helping them get better at hand-to-hand combat. Alas, the bureaucracy always seemed to get its way, and she had to finish them before she returned to her quarters.
As she removed a stack of papers, she found the mysterious golden-brown mask lying underneath of it. She forgot that she had it on her desk throughout the day.
Not wanting to spend another second alone in her office, she picked it up and locked the door. On her way up the elevator to the living spaces, she observed the mask closely, trying to figure it out. It felt heavy.
Once she returned to her room, showered, and turned in for the night. She left the mask on her desk, even though she still wondered its purpose.
Who was this guy? Really?
She wondered that all through the night.
In a dream…
Faint voices filled Jaguar's dreamscape, each one distinct within the void. They seemed like pieces of a memory or a long-forgotten dream.
"How did he survive the experiment? Was it a success then?"
"He wasn't supposed to survive."
"He's escaping! Stop him!"
"No!"
The sounds of bullet-fire followed, before they were drowned out by the sounds of Latin music and men and women laughing and celebrating.
"I wanted to ask you something, baby. Mind following me out to the patio?"
"Of course," a woman's sweet voice answered.
The music and laughter faded away, returning the void to a subtle silence.
"Will you marry me?" his voice asked.
Suddenly, the entire dreamscape violently shifted to the sounds of crying and muskets firing off. He then found himself at a cemetery, with the same gravestones lining up all around him. He heard crying and weeping behind him.
As he turned, he watched a coffin be lowered down, with people standing on both sides of the burial. They wore black and their faces covered.
One woman, however, stood from the crowd. She was immensely beautiful, with soft light-brown hair and eyes to match. She looked down at the burial with tears freely flowing down her face.
"Wait," he spoke, trying to catch her attention, "Wait, I'm still alive! Wait! I'm not dead!"
"You're dead to her," a familiar voice taunted him from behind.
He turned to come face to face with a white-hooded, skull-masked figure. The same one from the last dream.
"No, that's not possible! She was supposed to be my wife!"
Suddenly, the dreamscape vanished into nothing.
At the medical wing of the Triskelion…
Jaguar violently shot up from his slumber, breathing heavily, with sweat coming down his face. His heart was racing, and his body shook from the fear that accompanied that nightmare.
An older black-haired nurse then walked in to check on him.
"Are you okay, Mr. Monterroso?" she softly asked, "We heard you screaming from the lobby."
"I-I'm fine," he managed to answer, "It was… it was just another dream."
"Another nightmare?"
"Yeah. Another nightmare."
"It might just be the medication, sir. It's known to produce hallucinations and nightmares as a side-effect."
"Maybe. It's just… it's filled with people I don't remember. They seem… oddly familiar, though. I don't know how to explain it."
"It's okay, no need to strain yourself," she answered, walking to his side to check his vitals.
"Can I… go to the bathroom?"
"Of course, let me help you out of there…"
"Can I go by myself? I didn't like being watched the last few times I went."
"Well, it's for your safety, Mr. Monterroso."
"That's what they tell me," he sarcastically answered, "Please, nurse? The toilet's like right there, I just want to do my business in private, if that's alright with you."
She seemed unconvinced, but simply sighed at his request.
"Oh, alright. But, I'll be right here waiting for you to come out."
"Thanks."
She unshackled him out of the bed and helped walk him into the bathroom inside the room itself. He calmly closed the door behind him and turned on the lights. He had to cover his eyes at first, as the lights were too bright turning on.
Walking over to the sink, he twisted the cold-water knob and cupped the water within his hands, splashing it on his face as he leaned over.
He was trying to remember that girl at the funeral in the dream. She was so beautiful, yet, so sad over whoever passed away. She was the only one that was uncovered in the whole dream.
But who was that guy in the mask? The one who told him that he was "dead to her" or something. What problem did he have with him?
He looked up at himself in the mirror and was suddenly filled with shock at seeing the bright yellow color of the irises in his eyes.
"What the hell?"
Taking a closer look, he noticed that they were bright yellow, with the pupils slightly sharpened, almost catlike.
"Is this a joke? Oh man, this has got to be a joke or something. This has got to be Spector's work. That clown is always such a jokester," he laughed, "When I find that guy, I'm going to make him tell me how to get this crap off my eyes."
Without another word, he exited the bathroom, and returned to bed for the rest of the night.