XXXV
From the Daily Bugle, page 6a
Cashier Dead in Armed Robbery at Paulson's Spirits
One man is dead this morning as the result of an armed robbery at Paulson's Spirits, a liquor store in Queens that has been a staple of the local neighborhood for three decades. Terry Sivens, 37 years old, was pronounced dead at the scene.
Mr. Sivens had worked for John Paulson, the owner of the liquor store, for twelve years. "Terry was a good guy," Paulson said this morning, on the sidewalk outside his business, while he watched the local police and agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation string up crime tape and secure the scene. "Just a real hard worker. Opened up the store every morning for me. I never had a problem with him. He was trustworthy."
The two alleged assailants are now in custody, says a spokesperson from the FBI. It is not yet clear why the FBI has become involved in the investigation, and they have refused to release any further details of the crime.
Paulson says he hopes to be allowed access to his business soon. "I want to clean up and get back to business as usual. Terry would have wanted that. He never wanted a fuss." When asked about plans to reopen, Paulson says, "I don't know. I only saw through the window, but it looked a real mess in there. I think the guys trashed the place when they tried to rob Terry. Maybe tried to burn it down."
Neighbors are shaken at the incidence of violence. Adrienne Rodriguez, a local grandmother who lives in the building adjacent to Paulson's Spirits, tells the Daily Bugle that the area has never been prone to gang activity. "We're all just families living here," she says. "I don't know how such a terrible thing could happen right next door."
The identities of the two men who were arrested have not been released.
Tessa Jacobsen, reporting from the Crime Desk
XXXVI
Coulson eyes the destruction. Shattered glass sprinkles the linoleum, in and around puddles of variously colored liquids. The stench of alcohol burns the inside of his nose. This is the last place I would have ever thought to find them.
Fitzsimmons approach, both of the scientists tugging awkwardly on their black FBI windbreakers. They exchange glances before looking to Coulson. "It's most assuredly the same weapon that caused all this mayhem that also killed the cashier," Simmons tells him. "Me and Fitz agree."
Coulson nods. It's not exactly news. He'd taken a look at the body himself, posing as the special agent in charge of the scene. Half of his stomach had been disintegrated, a gaping hole carved out of his abdomen. The cashier must have tried to dodge the blast.
The body should have been completely disintegrated, though. If the weapons are what he thinks they are. Unless… what ever happened to the first gen versions? Those hadn't been as powerful. Not like Phase II. He needs to check with Fury, after they wrap up at the crime scene.
He winces, thinking about that inevitable phone call. This is the last thing they need, after Clint's debriefing. Since Barton's jaunt to Southeast Asia, and his subsequent report, the upper echelon of S.H.I.E.L.D. has been running around chasing their own tails. No one knew what to do with the information, or the ship itself. Their only solution, so far, had been to post a team out there, to keep people out, and keep an eye on it. Fury is so annoyed at the lack of answers from his subordinates that he's considering bring Stark in on it. That's how Coulson knows he's rattled.
And now he's in a dingy New York City liquor store, robbed by two assailants with top-secret S.H.I.E.L.D. prototype weapons developed from the ultra top-secret Tesseract project. Yeah. Fury's gonna blow a gasket.
"I think you're right," he tells Leo and Jemma. "The damage is unmistakable."
They exchange another glance, and Coulson feels a prickle of irritation. Jemma steps forward tentatively. "Um, sir, excuse me, but unmistakable as what? What is it that caused this damage?"
She looks toward the thin black cases, locked against everyone who didn't match his, Fury's, Hill's, or three other top level S.H.I.E.L.D. agent's biometric signatures. That had been his first priority when he secured the scene. Coulson had arrived before the others - the report had come through early, nearly five in the morning, passed up along the ranks because it had pinged some keyword algorithm the techs in the Cupboard had implemented.
He gives them a regretful smile. "Sorry, guys. That's need-to-know."
Fitz grumbles. Jemma frowns. "I'm going to collect some more samples," she says firmly. Coulson knows she won't bother arguing. She'll just try to figure it out on her own. Fitz will help, of course.
If I have my way, it won't be need-to-know for long.
Fury is finally coming around. With so many developing situations to juggle, all potentially disastrous in their own way, they need a multidisciplinary team capable of dealing with and adapting to threats in real time. STRIKE teams won't cut it. They're a blunt weapon. His own small task force investigating abnormal phenomena is closer - but he wants to expand his talent pool, outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and consultants with higher level clearance.
In his bid to convince Fury, Coulson had hinted about a certain Initiative, one that's been kept on the backburner for several years. Fury has grand plans where that's concerned, and Coulson is fervent in his belief that he'll somehow pull it off. So he'd mentioned assembling certain individuals in this special task force, to see how they work with each other, to test their skills as a team, to determine their compatibility for any future, official endeavors… and Fury'd known exactly what he meant.
S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have jurisdiction everywhere. Which, of course, doesn't always stop them, but it does make things more difficult. Having a well-known, semi-public team that can be called upon by many governments and organizations that might otherwise be leery of American authority figures could open up a world of different opportunities. And having this hypothetical team still broadly supported by and tied to S.H.I.E.L.D., while being a step removed from its command structure, could be a hell of a coup for Fury. Being an agent of a shadowy black ops organization has its perks, don't get him wrong. Coulson has no problem with compartmentalization - that's just a fact of the job. But not when it gets in the way of accomplishing important goals. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s real work is to protect people. And excessive secrecy is often limiting, in the new age of globalization and communication at the press of a button.
This group could be a dry run. Because things are changing, and S.H.I.E.L.D. might need all the help they can get in the next few years. It won't always be mysterious lights on the horizon and mythical hammers. A real threat could fall from the sky at any moment.
"Agent Coulson. You called?"
He turns. Lukas Eld stands before him, frowning up at the grey sky as drizzle settles in his sleek black hair.
"You read the brief?"
"Yes, on my way here. A burglary and murder, correct?"
"Yep."
"Agent Roberts said this is connected to Raina's current whereabouts. Was she mistaken? Or was this liquor merchant a secret S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?" He flicks a lock of wet hair off his forehead, aiming another faint expression of distaste up at the iron grey clouds. "Perhaps you're simply partial to the vodka they serve in this… establishment." Lukas eyes the bars over the windows of the storefront.
Coulson waves toward the door. "Why don't you go and take a look around. Talk to Simmons and Fitz. See what you think."
He scrutinizes the agent for a moment. "Very well." Lukas strides through cracked glass door with a sweep of his long grey trench coat.
Time to show me if you're worth all this trouble, Eld.
Coulson ducks under the tarp of their impromptu command center. The mobile base is disguised as an FBI crime lab van, but the equipment inside is decades ahead of anything the Feds possess. Fitz has packed all his little toys, of course, and he'd insisted on bringing anything with Stark Industries emblazoned on the side. Kid's a fanboy. Naturally. Coulson's going to do everything in his power to make sure that Stark never finds out.
The command tent is set up in the alley on the side of the liquor store, tucked away as far from the street as possible. Coulson sneaks a peek through a window that's not covered in advertisements for cheap beer. Fitz is talking at Eld, gesturing wildly, pointing to a portion of the wall that had been disintegrated. The consultant looks thoughtful.
Eld is just one of the potential members of this multidisciplinary team. Coulson's decided to step up his timetable for recruitment. He would prefer to keep him as a consultant for a few years, build up his loyalty slow, feel out his trustworthiness. But things are moving quickly. And he'd helped them recover Raina's ring. Coulson had seen the temptation there, when Eld had handed it over. And he still handed it over. That meant something, though Coulson hadn't precisely figured out what.
With that thought lingering, Coulson answers an incoming video call. The SI rollout super-thin plasma screen lights up with an annoying little animation, a cartoon rotary phone, which couldn't look sillier given the superior communications tech it's displayed on. He's been waiting for Agent Aguda to get back to him, to confirm some suspicions he has about Eld. Before he recommends him to Fury for this pseudo-team.
He accepts the call. A man flickers into view, the crown of his head bald, his dark brown skin gleaming in the fluorescent light behind him. Thick glasses rest on the tip of his long nose. He smiles at Coulson, who returns the expression warmly.
"How's the new posting?"
Darrell Aguda rolls his eyes. Coulson can see the movement with crystal clarity over the connection, and it rankles him that this is courtesy of the recent influx of Stark Industries money and technology into every facet of S.H.I.E.L.D. life. Omnipresent, like the god Tony Stark thinks he is.
The connection transmits the annoyance in his voice just as clearly as his features. "It's like a goddamn soap opera here. A bunch of hyper-caffeinated assholes bickering about electromagnetic fluctuations and the merits of various platinum alloys."
"They giving you a hard time?" Coulson's surprised. Darrell is largely unflappable.
"Well, not intentionally. I don't think." He sighs. "I've just somehow become the one appointed to break up all the squabbles. Probably because I'm the same age as most of their dads. I mean, really, Coulson, are these techs fresh out the Academy? It's like running a daycare full of overgrown children. Who've all been issued handguns."
Truth be told, Darrell is looking a bit ragged round the edges, with tired lines around his eyes. "Believe me, I know how you feel," Coulson commiserates. "If I could, I'd have you back here at the Hub in a heartbeat. But Director Fury is in charge of Project Pegasus personnel. Sorry. Though you could complain to Dr. Selvig - he hand-picked a few of them."
Darrell snorts. "Yeah, no. I don't think so. Guy's a nut."
"He's eccentric. It's supposed to be a good thing for scientists."
"Eccentric's a euphemism. But enough bitching - I took a look at that report you sent me."
"And?"
"Guy's clean."
Coulson stifles a groan. He knew that. He's known that. More information, new information, is what he needs now.
"Too clean," Darrell continues.
"Too clean," he repeats. "How?"
"Tell me something. Is he straight-laced? I mean, like so straight-laced he could be mistaken for a self-flagellating monk?"
Coulson balks. "No. No. I mean - straight-laced? God, no." After he says it, he's not quite sure what prompted the immediate denial.
Darrell laughs. "That's what I thought. 'Cause from his file and online footprint, I woulda said that Lukas Eld is either a real repressed, antisocial shut-in, or he's hiding something."
Coulson leans forward, nose nearly touching the video screen. "Go on."
"Nothing in the report your little mice assembled strikes me as false or feels fabricated. That's what's so amazing about this guy. It's all legit. He's in the registry at the university he attended, his papers are published in online journals, he comments on his peers' papers. He has birth records, hospital records, death records for his parents. He attended high school, excelled at his A-Levels, was even a junior member of a local historical society, for classical nerd, you might say."
Coulson snorts, imagining Lukas Eld as a skinny little kid wearing a pair of taped-up glasses and a pocket protector, straight out of a comedy set in a suburban high school in the 1980s. Even in the little flight of fancy, he can't picture Eld sniveling and meek. More like convincing the jocks to stuff themselves into lockers.
"But it's the little details that are missing, y'know? I mean - he doesn't have a personal email. No social media. There aren't any casual, candid pictures of him online. Not with friends, not drinking a beer or even just sitting next to another person." Darrell shakes his head. "If I was just judging by his online presence, I'd say he's got no friends and no life."
"He lives with someone," Coulson notes. "An old woman."
"Well, that might explain it. I doubt they go out clubbing on Fridays." Darrell rubs a hand over his forehead. "I dunno, Coulson. I don't think it's his real name. There's nothing in his electronic history I can point to and say, this is a lie - but it just feels off."
And doesn't that just sum up Lukas Eld. He nods ruefully. "Thanks for taking a look, Darrell. I didn't want to take you away from your work with Pegasus, but honestly, I'm considering bringing Eld in as a consultant and I wanted your opinion." Or a confirmation. That there's more to him than he wants us to think.
"Even if Lukas Eld is a fake identity?"
"We could use his expertise now. And figuring out what he's hiding is just ammo against him, if he decides to misuse his position as a consultant. And if I keep digging until I uncover his real name, I'll have even more insurance. He doesn't want us to know - so he must have a reason to hide it. I can use that."
Darrell whistles. "You play a dangerous game, Coulson, but I'll be damned if you aren't good at it." A frown creases his brow. "But I thought he was just a historian? How's he gonna help us with - well, you know."
"He's an expert in Norse history and mythology."
"Ah. Okay, I see your point. Thinking outside of the box, as it were," Darrell says. "Well, Selvig might disagree, but at this point, I don't think it could hurt to bring in someone with an unusual perspective."
The weariness in his voice gives Coulson pause. "Not making much progress?"
Darrell shakes his head. "I don't know, Phil. It's like… it's like it's fighting us."
Coulson tries to mask his alarm. The Tesseract is most definitely alien, but they've never seen any indication of sentience, no more than an intelligent supercomputer. Hell, Stark's AI cracks jokes, which is leagues beyond what the cube's ever done. And Darrell is not the sort of agent to give credence to wild theories or fanciful speculation.
The agent covers his face with his broad, brown hands. "Christ, Phil, don't listen to me!" He gives a rusty laugh. "God, I know that doesn't make sense. I don't know. Maybe I've been here for too long. The base is so isolated, and I work the night shift. My wife's back home. It's not exactly a recipe for mental stability."
"If I get final approval from the Director, we could have a new, interdisciplinary team put together, and be out there in a few months. Then you could rotate home for a bit, recalibrate, as it were," Coulson suggests.
"Yeah. Yeah, maybe you're right." Darrell gives him a half-smile. "Always glad to help you, Agent Coulson. Good luck with that guy."
"I'll need it. Thanks, Agent Aguda."
The video screen winks off, and Coulson is left looking pensively at his own reflection.
No aspect of Darrell's report is out of line with the man Coulson knows as Lukas Eld. Intelligent and well-spoken, but reserved and formal. Maybe he is a shut-in, or maybe that little town he lives in just doesn't have much in the way of an internet connection yet. It's plausible. But he still gets the feeling something is off, like Darrell said.
He thinks of his instinctual reaction to the question about Eld being straight-laced - why had he balked? On paper, Eld does sound like a 'classic nerd,' as Darrell said.
Sure, the guy had been conspiring to play both sides… but it wasn't just that. There is something about Eld… he can't put his finger on it. Coulson trusts his own judgment of character. It's rarely failed him, even when questioned by his superiors and friends. Romanoff is a stellar example. Fury wanted her put down, after all. His recruitment of Clint Barton had been suspect as well. And now they were two of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best agents. At least in terms of mission completion and skill level. Their methodology might be a bit destructive to physical property, but they get the job done.
Eld is different than Barton and Romanoff. Distinct skill-set, distinct personality. But Coulson'll be damned if he doesn't get that same sense of impending doom when considering what they'd do with free rein on a mission. Recklessness is the best word he can think to describe it - all three are impulsive in their own way.
And Eld could be an asset, just like the other two. He's sure of it. If he can convince Eld - and if his price isn't too high.
But he'd be an idiot not to find out everything he can about Eld before letting him near the Tesseract. Having leverage over most people you work with is another part of the job. Not a lot of people are cut out for this line of work. But Coulson's been at it for years, now. He's a spy. It's what he does, and it's who he is.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s not the CIA, though. He's not just working for the American government, for one political leader or party. He came to S.H.I.E.L.D. - and he stays - because he believes at the end of the day, their main job is to protect the planet.
Call him crazy, but he thinks Lukas Eld can help.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The consultant himself slips into the makeshift command center, Fitz and Simmons trailing after him. "So? What do you think?" Coulson prompts.
Lukas peers at him for a long moment, like he's deciding what Coulson wants to hear most. Finally, he says, "The weapon that brought the liquor merchant low. The weapon that caused the destruction within his shop. I have never seen its like before."
"And so here we stand, under a tarp next to two overflowing dumpsters." Coulson spreads his arms out wide. "What does that tell you?"
"That S.H.I.E.L.D. has never seen weapons of this caliber before either," Lukas posits. Then he narrows his eyes at Coulson, despite his purposefully blank countenance. "Or…" he says slowly, "That you have. And that is what worries you."
Those green eyes, clear eyes, meet his, and damn, they're perceptive. He wants Eld to make the connection between the Tesseract and the weapons, but he doesn't want Eld coming to any conclusions about their manufacturers.
Fitz flicks his eyes between the two. "So how is this connected to Raina?"
"We have intelligence that indicates these weapons came from Centipede," Coulson reveals.
"Raina evades you, but she is still able to sell her wares to petty criminals?" Lukas shoots him a skeptical look.
"Through a third party," Coulson says. "We traced these weapons back to a warehouse near the pier. A local syndicate moves product through the area. I think Raina contracts out to them when she needs fast cash - and she'd need some now, if she's gonna recoup the losses she took when we raided her base. From what the analyses indicated, that was her main setup. Now she's lost major infrastructure, supplies, and manpower. She's running, and she needs money to do that. I think she's selling off her reserves."
"And these weapons were part of those reserves?" Simmons asks. She slides open her phone, flicks through the pictures she took of the damage in the liquor store. "But where did she get them? If she had such powerful weapons as what took down that cashier - why didn't she use them during our raid?"
"Maybe she knew they'd catch our eye," Coulson says darkly. Like they'd done now. She'd been foolish, to sell off the weapons to some thugs, thugs that would use them recklessly and attract attention. Or maybe it wasn't Raina who approved the sale. The local gang she contracted to do business for her might have let a couple fall off the back of the truck, gain some profit on the side. Then these two yahoos decided to knock off a liquor store and S.H.I.E.L.D. finds out.
That doesn't answer the important question. The one Coulson keeps circling back around to. How did Raina get her hands on S.H.I.E.L.D. prototypes?
Well - when they get a hold of Raina, he plans on putting that damn ring on her finger and asking. And that day might be closer than he thinks, if a certain operative comes through.
He nods at the store. "Get anything else you need. A cleanup crew is scheduled to come out and take care of the evidence we don't want lying around."
"What else do we need, though?" Simmons protests. "The two men who committed the crime are in custody. We have the murder weapons right here. And you say you know where they came from. Why are we even here?"
"I imagine Agent Coulson wanted to see the extent of the damage these weapons are capable of," Eld says. "Unless he is already familiar," he adds, more softly.
Coulson ignores Simmons's laser point gaze. "We couldn't let the local LEOs handle this one. The Feds, either. This is one of our cases. And we're still not sure how Raina ended up with weapons like these. Anything we find here could help us out."
Fitz lugs out a black duffel bag from the back of the van. "In that case, I'll be heading back inside. There's a few new programs I want to try running to test the sensitivity of my mobile mass spec. C'mon, Jemma." She follows him, tapping at her lower lip, by all appearances deep in some intense thought.
Lukas waits until Fitz and Simmons have left. He approaches the cases with the illicit weapons, and though Coulson hadn't told him what was inside, runs a fingertip along the smooth black metal case. "These are… curious objects."
"Curious?" Coulson had been hoping for a bit more than that.
"I am not surprised Raina would have possession of such intriguing weapons. I am surprised she parted with them."
"Why is that?"
He raises a polished black brow. "Raina likes to believe she is elevated above her station, beyond common humanity, deserving of more. And these weapons are anything but common. There is something otherworldly about them. Don't you think, Agent Coulson?" There is a strange emphasis in his voice, an intent lurking under the words. A smile plays around his lips, a faint light of amusement in those green eyes.
He does know they're related to the Tesseract, Coulson thinks. He must. Or he's just playing with me, to see what I reveal. Either one is likely.
"They're weapons. Nothing otherworldly about that."
"Yes. I suppose you are correct, in a way. The urge to harm our enemies is universal."
"Do you often succumb to such an urge?" Coulson asks lightly.
Eld smirks faintly. "I prefer to arrange for my enemies to harm themselves."
That's not precisely an answer, but he lets it go.
Eld folds his arms across his chest and looks at him. "Well. If I'm not here to speculate on these fascinating weapons, why am I here? I confess I do not see where my expertise could be useful in this particular case, other than in its tenuous link to Raina."
"It's not at this crime scene that I think you'll come in handy," Coulson admits. "But I thought it was important to bring you to New York, get you up to speed." He glances at the analog watch on his wrist. "Because in thirty-six hours, I'm launching an operation that will end with Raina in our custody."
"How?" Lukas asks, eyes narrowing. "If she has evaded S.H.I.E.L.D. until now, she is undoubtedly clever, adept at slipping from shadow to shadow. What makes you so confident you will catch her this time?"
"I have trustworthy intel on her location. At least, her location two nights from now."
"This warehouse where she stores her weapons?"
"No. I don't wanna risk going there just yet, and spooking either Raina's people or the gang that sells her contraband. There's too many elements involved, and if even one of these weapons is lost to the general population again, it could be a disaster." Coulson gestures to the liquor store. "A man died here. A grisly, horrible death. But it could have been so much worse. These weapons have terrible potential in the hands of our enemies. We have to recover all of them, in one fell swoop."
Lukas looks over his shoulder and pins Coulson with a stare. "And once you have her? What will you do with Raina?"
"I'm gonna put a ring on it." He laughs at Eld's puzzled expression. Maybe he really does live under a rock. I guess we'll find out. One way or another.
