A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys. I got caught up with this roleplaying game called Anima, but I'm back now. And to make it up, I'll be posting another chapter shortly.
The Task
Hightown, Madripoor
February 22, 2014 – 3:48 PM
915.
That was the final death toll in Stamford. Not even 10% of DC's death toll and not even 15% of Munich's, but the emotional impact was so much greater. 145 students were killed. 145 lives that didn't even have the chance to get started were snuffed out in an instant.
They did nothing to anyone. They did nothing to deserve their cruel, abrupt end. Nothing anyone could say made these facts sting and burn less.
The parents that survived now had to struggle to find not only the strength, but a reason, to continue on with life. Their prides and joys were gone, and in their place was a gaping void that was impossible to fill completely, even if they decided to have more children.
Hero reform was at the forefront of every talk show, political debate, and conversation. Everyone with sense agreed – it was time to do something about superheroes.
Some wanted them to be banned and thrown in prison. It was argued that in a world with hundreds of villains, banning heroes was just asking for another Masters of Evil situation. However, the counterpoint was that with Ultron, the Masters of Evil would never happen again. This point was strong and had a lot of people stroking their chins in deep contemplation.
The other, more prevailing option was a registration act. In it, heroes would be required to submit their identities, their hero and civilian identities, to the government and SHIELD, and would have to undergo mandatory training to hone their abilities. There was also rumblings of setting an age minimum on heroics, possibly twenty. That would eliminate teenage heroes who could have gotten caught up in the moment due their youth.
Frankly, Coulson didn't like any of it. He understood that Ultron was more efficient at heroics than the heroes were, and that there hadn't been any casualties when he stopped disasters. But that wasn't all that a hero was, just someone who stopped disasters. They were an inspiration. They instilled hope in the masses, and that was something that, in his opinion, Ultron would never be capable of doing.
It was something Trent didn't understand, and he doubted he ever would. And as long as he didn't, no hero would be safe. But, if there was one thing he did agree with in this entire thing, it was that heroes needed training, and fast. Events like Stamford could not continue, or this would only get worse.
"Agent May, what's your location?"
While Stamford struggled to rebuild and move forward, and the hero community dreaded what the future held for them, SHIELD continued to protect the world. Coulson and his team were assigned with retrieving an 084 that had been discovered win the depths of Madripoor. It was a bitter trip for Coulson, as it was the first time he met Jessica Drew.
It was back in 2009, months after Stark revealed to the world that he was Iron Man. They were supposed to be running a sting operation to apprehend a dangerous arms dealer who was selling stolen Stark Industries weapons that she picked up from The Ten Rings. What ended up happening was an assassination attempt on Fury's life, by Drew. It was foiled, thanks to a cell phone, and Drew was taken in.
The rest was history.
=Leaving the docks. Nothing so far,= she answered through the comm in his SUV. He didn't feel comfortable taking Lola out of the Bus.
"Fine," he said with a disappointed sigh. "Find Ward and meet up with me at the warehouse district. That's the only other place where it could be, if our intel was right."
=Roger that. You're alright?=
"I'm fine. Why?" He knew exactly why she was asking him. He had been off ever since they stepped foot in the godforsaken country. Anyone would be, of course, but he had been especially so.
=You're off.=
He sighed again and rapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he came up to a red light. "May, I'm fine. Really."
He wasn't okay. The anniversary of the Avengers' deaths was in exactly four months, and he didn't know how he was going to handle it. More importantly, he wasn't sure how Trent was going to handle it. He wanted to think that he would have some sort of memorial service or gathering in their honor; but, given his sour words on a few of them, he highly doubted it.
It made him sick, to be living in a world without them. Even eight months after they were killed, it still felt like a dream. Not like the nightmare it very much was weeks after it happened, but it was still unreal. He would have given anything to hear Barton crack a joke, or Stark's biting sarcasm, or Thor's otherworldly wisdom, or Steve's old-fashioned ideology, or Natasha's silent –
"This light's been red for a while," he observed warily. A police car pulled up beside him to his left. The police officer in the passenger side looked at Coulson suspiciously, then immediately turned to say something to his partner.
=Found Ward. En route to the warehouses now. What's your ETA?=
At this rate, a year. He would have chuckled to himself, but something didn't feel right. Finally, the light turned green, and he proceeded forward. The police car that had been at his side sped ahead of him and switched over to his lane. A slight grimace crossed his face.
=Phi–= was the last thing May managed before a vehicle slammed into the driver's side of Coulson's SUV. He felt his wrist snap as he was jostled to the side violently by the collision. Before he knew what happened, two more cars - police cars, to be precise - slammed into him, one on each side, effectively pinning him in. The car that had been in front of him slammed on its brakes and sped in reverse to complete the box in.
"Fracture detected," reported the artificial intelligence installed in the SUV's CPU. Coulson straightened out, blood dripping out from his nostrils and collecting in his mouth, and reached under his glove compartment. "Recommend anesthetic injection."
The initial police car backed away to make room for a SWAT style van. Out poured four men, all in black body armor and riot helmets, with no identifying symbols to be found. Eight police officers exited their vehicles, all wielding sub-machine guns.
"Madripoor police dispatch shows no units in this area."
The officers took aim.
Coulson swallowed and stabbed the syringe in his forearm. Immediately, he felt the throbbing pain in his wrist and head subside. "Get me out of here."
A hailstorm of gunfire pelted the SUV, denting the reinforced chassis and the bulletproof windows. The head's up display on the windshield showed the window integrity was steadily and rapidly declining.
"Propulsion system is offline."
"Then reboot, dammit!"
The gunfire continued for nearly five more seconds before it ceased in preference of an automated battering ram that two more of the mysterious men carried out of the van. They placed it down on the driver's side and locked it into place. One of them pushed the dull blue button on the control panel to charge it up. It steadily became brighter.
"Warning. Window integrity compromised."
"Ya think? How long until propulsion is online?" Coulson crawled into the passenger seat and braced for the inevitable impact.
"Calculating."
The battering ram slammed into the side of the trunk with thunderous force, lifting the two driver side tires off the ground. "Window integrity at 31%. Deploying countermeasures."
"Hold that order," he said immediately.
The battering ram slammed into the side of the trunk again, again lifting the driver side off the ground. "Window integrity 19%. Defensive measures advised."
"Wait!"
The truck was struck for a third time. The dent that was left from the impact had almost stressed the glass to the point of shattering. One more strike and they would be through, and he would be vulnerable.
Of course, he already knew that.
The police officers moved in close and kept their weapons trained on Coulson as the ram cocked back for another strike. "Window integrity 1%."
"Now!"
A miniature machine gun ejected up from the center divide compartment. Coulson took hold of it and opened fire on the police without prejudice. The glass shattered outward and the four men that were right next to the truck were immediately riddled with gunfire. He moved methodically, gunning down the nearby officers quickly. He pressed a button on the handle, and fired a missile that exploded once it made contact with the police van. Another missile was fired and flipped one police car atop another one.
Officers scrambled for covers as he continued his salvo. Bullets pinged off of the cars or found their marks, dropping a few more before they could reach safety.
"Propulsion system back online."
"Get us out of here, now!" The truck threw itself into reverse and into the front bumper of police car with a loud, smoky screech of the tires. It nearly climbed over the hood, and nearly did the same as it shot forward and slammed into the only other car blocking its way.
A path cleared, it took off down the street. Both Coulson and the policemen continued their fire, but were unable to score a hit. For Coulson, that was a victory. "Initiate vertical takeoff!"
"Flight systems damaged."
"Dammit. Activate the guidance camera." He crawled back into the driver's seat and took the wheel as a small window on the HUD displayed the view from the camera on the rear bumper. "We'll do this the old-fashioned way. Gimme the wheel."
Coulson was back in control, and started weaving in and out of traffic. Those men, those were the same men that Hamady was talking about. Those were the people that killed Maria. Seeing them in person eliminated from his mind any doubt at all of a robbery or whatever bullshit SHIELD cooked up. Also, it eliminated any doubt that there was a cover-up at SHIELD. And he was next on the chopping block. "Get me Agent May."
"Communications are already damaged."
"Well, what's not damaged?!"
"The air conditioning is fully operational."
Coulson weaved through traffic, the fake police hot on his tail. They seemed to be professionals, given that they were having just as easy a time slithering through traffic as he was. Who the hell are these guys? he found himself pondering.
"Traffic ahead."
"Need an alternate route to the docks." If he could get there in time, maybe he could have caught May on her way to the warehouses. Or perhaps on her way back to the docks. Either way, he needed backup now.
"Traffic alert. All traffic is stopped on the Penroy Bridge. South Taylro Avenue is clear in three blocks, directly ahead." Coulson groaned.
With traffic backing up the way it was, he would never make it. "Dammit." He sped up ahead and struck the back right bumper of pickup truck to spin it out of the way. He didn't slow down and managed to squeeze in between a pair of cars and slipped passed them. In doing so, the driver's veered toward each toward each other, colliding, effectively creating a barricade that blocked the fake police from following him.
Momentarily, he knew, but it was enough of a reprieve to allow him time to navigate the thickening traffic. Or, so he thought. It turned out that the traffic was much thicker than he originally anticipated. He had to slow to a crawl in order to partly safely navigate through the stationary cars, and only managed to get so far before the fake police caught up to him.
Policemen rammed their way through traffic, while some climbed over cars on foot to get to Coulson. When one got close enough, he opened fire and just barely missed hitting him in the shoulder. Another one managed to get in behind the SUV, but never got the chance to fire when Coulson backed into him at speed. He went flying into the windshield behind him, and didn't move again.
The former officer that just barely missed Coulson moved to the other side of a bus stop and opened fire. Glass shattered over the sidewalk and innocent civilians that were diving for safety. Coulson was almost hit and had to press himself back into the seat to avoid gunfire.
He rammed the front right side of a nearby car and sent it spinning into the officer. Whether he was dead or just down momentarily wasn't important.
He peeled off, with two police cars hot on his tail. They crisscrossed through traffic, minimizing motion to maintain their speed to catch up with Coulson.
One officer leaned out of the window and opened fire. He hit passing civilian vehicles more often than not, but ones that reached Coulson barely missed. The car he was hanging out of pulled up to Coulson's side, allowing him to ram into it and grab the man hanging out. He fired, but being too close and Coulson having a hold of his wrist caused his shots to go awry.
The second car came up from the other side and sandwiched him in. The man Coulson had a hold of spent the last of his rounds in his semiautomatic and drew his handgun. He never got to use it after taking a fee heavy punches to his jaw and nose.
"Warning. Approaching intersection." Coulson slammed on the brakes, leaving the two cop cars behind. The unsuspecting truck driver that prompted the warning slammed into the rightmost car, and just managed to clip the leftmost one, sending them both either skidding or spiraling out of control.
Coulson drifted onto the adjacent street. "Get me off the grid!" he demanded. He was almost to the docks, but it was painfully obvious that he was only going to bring trouble down on May and Ward. Better for him to find a safe place, let the heat pass by and get in contact with the team at a later time. Undoubtedly, this was going to be on the news, and SHIELD knew about it, so the only concern he had was May bring too worried about him to think straight.
"Calculating route to safe location."
Coulson was about to respond, but stopped suddenly before a word got out. His attention was too drawn to the man standing in the middle of the streets, right in front of docks. He was cloaked in black and silver tactical gear, with a silver hood over his head and what looked like skull mask pulled over his face. The upper half of the mask was obscured by the hood.
The man raised his right arm, training a grenade launcher at his oncoming truck and fired. The disk shaped grenade skidded against the pavement and magnetically attached to the bottom of Coulson's truck before exploding, upending it. The man casually sidestepped to the left and allowed the truck to skid past him, on its front bumper.
It slid into the docking district and flipped over the wooden railing and into the water below.
The man walked over and just caught the rear bumper sinking below the water line. Before he could fire another grenade, he heard another SUV heading in his direction. He sprinted off in retreat before May and Ward could get to him.