XLIII

THE CONCERNED CITIZEN: SKEPTIC NEWSLETTER

Dedicated to providing you with the unvarnished, unscripted truth that our government and its cloak-and-dagger agencies are determined to conceal.

April 2013

Howdy, folks! Randy Houser, here again, to shine a light on all the things the current administration doesn't want you to know about.

Let's talk about metahumans. They've been all over the news, recently. The man in LA, saving the child from the burning building. The woman in Bolivia that glows in the presence of a certain wavelength of light.

They seem to be popping out of the woodworks, these days. But here's a thought: maybe they've been here for a while. Maybe they're here by design.

Think about it. The government is in the business of weapons development. And what better weapon than the unsuspecting civilian?

The Cold War never really ended, folks. It only changed. These metahumans would be the perfect spies. Super strength, super stealth. Exploding things at will.

It might be in the drinking water. Or the food supply. Antibiotics - hello! They're already drugging our cattle and our children, wouldn't be too much of a stretch to throw an experimental serum in there with the pharmaceutical company's expired overstock.

But my personal theory - those suspicious "Clinical" trials where they test "Medicine" in the name of "Science." They make you sign all sorts of waivers. You'd never know what the papers you're signing are really for. Doctors get paid by Big Pharma to enroll their patients in dubious experiments. And of course they won't even tell you if you're getting the treatment they're going through all the trouble to test! Who's really the double blind one here, Doc?

Mark my words - these metahumans aren't going away anytime soon. And I guarantee we'll find out that the Soviets were up to their usual tricks, developing their own metahuman programs. World War Three could very well be fought using powered people as proxies for their governments, fighting it out in the streets! Only time will tell - until then, we must be vigilant. We must demand transparency in our government, both federal and local. We must demand the passage of legislation that protects the average citizen from the tyranny of those with uncanny abilities. Write your Senator and your Congressperson today and let them hear your voice! Let them hear all our voices, united!

Stay safe, concerned citizens, and stay skeptical!


XLIV

Steve stands at the foot of the hospital bed, arms crossed over his chest, watching Dr. Flagretti frown at the screen. She whacks the top of the machine, sudden and hard. Under Steve's gaze, she flushes. "It was worth a shot."

"It's giving you trouble?" he asks.

"Well, it's either my EEG or my patient. It might sound arrogant, but I'm pretty sure it's not user error." She leans down, lifts an eyelid, and peers into Agent Martinez's brown irises. "The pupillary reflex is still active in both eyes," she mutters. "Respiration is normal. I'm guessing brain stem function is still intact."

"That's good?"

"It's positive sign," Dr. Flagretti says. Steve relaxes a bit. He'd come back late last night, after the medics had taken Martinez away, after a team had come out to document the scene in New Jersey. The first thing he did this morning was seek out the doctor and her newest patient. Dr. Flagretti's temporary office is in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s main facility in Manhattan, so he didn't have to go very far out of his way. Coulson's meeting is scheduled in the same building. He flicks a glance at his watch. Less than an hour from now, actually.

Dr. Flagretti tucks a strand of long brown hair behind her ear. "But my EEG isn't showing much in the way of electrical activity. And without knowing the cause of his coma… it's difficult to make any kind of diagnosis."

Martinez lays between them, unmoving. His skin is waxy and thin, adhering to the bone beneath too tightly. He looks gaunt, starved. Like one of the bodies the Commandos had stumbled upon, in those eponymous Hydra labs in Central Europe.

Steve grits his teeth together. "I don't think there's gonna be an easy explanation for this one." He remembers the chill he'd felt, when he had crouched down in the hall of that S.H.I.E.L.D. storage place. Clint had explained what he'd seen to Steve, the hole in the floating ship, the echoing darkness. Eerily similar to what they'd found in that basement hallway. The two incidents have to be related - too much of a coincidence if they aren't.

Clint thinks they are. Steve trusts the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He's sharp, observant. A true sniper. And Steve would be a fool not to trust a sniper's instincts. Bucky's keen eye was sometimes all that stood between his skull and a bullet, during the war.

"They need to bring in a neurologist," Dr. Flagretti says. She rubs her knuckles on the furrow between her brows. "I'm not qualified for this. I'm a geneticist by trade."

"I think Coulson's tapped you for his little taskforce." Steve smiles at her. "You've already been exposed to some pretty unbelievable stuff, and you haven't run away screaming yet."

She gives a rueful sigh. "Unbelievable. You're not wrong. Kidnapping attempts and magic rings - and oh, wait - meeting the resurrected Captain America while he's in the middle of rescuing you."

Steve shuffles on his feet. "I wasn't dead." Resurrected is too grand of a word for what happened to him. For the crash, the long fall. The slow creep of ice. The sudden, rude awakening, into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s idea of a comforting lie.

"You're right. Returned," the doctor amends, in a softer tone. "At great cost."

He swallows, throat tight with some unnamed emotion. "Yeah."

"For what it's worth, I'm grateful you were there." She comes around the bed and rests her palm gently on his forearm. "My son is grateful. My husband is too. You saved my life."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. would have gotten you out," Steve protests. It's one thing to be handed a medal, or to be lauded in the paper. This is too personal, too close. Her eyes are warm and brown and Steve looks away.

"Maybe." Dr. Flagretti steps back. "Regardless, I had to say it. It wouldn't have felt right otherwise. I keep thinking about what that woman could have made me do. Made me say. I could have betrayed my entire life's work. I was frightened at the time, but the more I think about it, the more terrifying that ring becomes."

His smile turns more genuine. Her frank openness is refreshingly unusual. Steve likes working for S.H.I.E.L.D., he likes to feel useful, but sometimes he looks around at all the agents and handlers and wonders what the hell he's doing here. Everything is clearance codes and need-to-know and shadow ops. Steve understands the necessity, even if Fury and Coulson privately think he doesn't. It's just exhausting, to be on guard constantly, even among your colleagues. He's always been more of a soldier than a spy.

Steve follows the doctor as she gathers up some paperwork into a folder and heads across the hall into a cramped office. "Do you think we found him in time?" He can't help but ask.

"I don't know, Captain. It's too early to tell. But I do think you and Agent Barton have given him a chance that he didn't have before." Dr. Flagretti dumps the file on her desk, nearly knocking over a half-full cup of coffee. "I really wish they'd given me a bigger office, if I'm going to be in New York for a while," she grumbles.

"I'll put in a word with Coulson, see what he can do," he offers. "Also - it's Steve. You can call me Steve."

She leans on her palms and looks up at him. "You really are too good to be true. I thought all the propaganda posters were exaggerating."

He glances to the floor. "They definitely were."

A voice comes from the open doorway. "Such becoming modesty, Captain Rogers. The lady speaks truly."

Lukas Eld rests against the wooden frame, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. Steve gives him a half-smile. "You haven't seen the posters, have you?"

"No, but now I think I shall have to seek them out," Eld replies.

"Make sure you find the one where I'm warning about the dangers of syphilis," he tells them, dry as dust. "My unit always got a kick out of that."

Dr. Flagretti chuckles. "That sounds like the perfect decoration for a doctor's office, don't you think?"

"I'll get you a signed copy," Steve says. He turns to Lukas Eld. "I didn't know you were in New York."

"Coulson brought me along. Raina was spotted in Manhattan."

"Spotted?"

Lukas grins. "Not just spotted. Captured."

"Nice work." Steve nods at him. "Are you headed back home now?"

Lukas's gaze darts to Dr. Flagretti. "Not yet. They want me to compile my knowledge of the ring that was recovered."

That doesn't sit right in his gut. Steve and Dr. Flagretti exchange glances. "The ring? They're gonna use it on her?" she asks.

Lukas lifts one shoulder. "You know S.H.I.E.L.D.'s motives better than I."

"They would use it if they felt it necessary," he says, certain. He knew this was coming. It's obvious. The clearest route to getting workable intelligence from an enemy operative.

The doctor shivers at his side. She touches her finger, just barely, where Raina must have slipped the ring on, before she clasps her hands behind her back.

He frowns at the desk, piled high with folders and scattered papers, the detritus of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical experiments. Someone must have compiled knowledge of the serum, after the Valkyrie went down. All the pain and suffocating fear of the Vita Ray distilled into a single tidy report. Raina wouldn't have wanted the files otherwise. Is it a good idea to gather information about this ring in the same way?

I keep thinking about what that woman could have made me do. Made me say.

Lukas Eld interrupts his thoughts. "Don't you have a meeting to get to, Captain Rogers?"

He shakes his head. "Steve. It's Steve, remember?" Waving at the doctor, he ducks into the hall. "Be seeing ya, Dr. Flagretti."

"Goodbye - Steve." Her answering smile is warm.

Eld slips into the space at his left, matching strides. "Are you coming to the meeting?" Steve asks.

"I wasn't invited." He stares ahead, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. "But I will be most curious to hear the outcome."

"Sure you won't be able to find a way to eavesdrop?" he jokes.

Lukas's expression tightens. Steve feels like he's crossed an invisible line, but isn't sure where he misstepped.

"I suppose you have heard about Raina's capture. About my role in it," Lukas says.

Steve shakes his head. "No, not really. I just figured, if you were that curious, you'd find a way. Was I wrong?"

"You haven't heard?" Lukas bites the inside of his cheek and eyes Steve speculatively. "I must confess, you surprise me."

"I do?" It's just - he's not the one with the mysterious past and the slick suit, the one with a penchant for sly, knowing smirks.

"Yes. You ask many questions, but I do not know what you seek in answer. It is… aggravating," Lukas admits with a twist of his lips.

He chuckles. "I don't know. I'm sorry if I offended you, I don't mean anything by them. I just… can't seem to pin you down. How your mind works." Steve shrugs. "I guess I'm curious too."

"About me?" Lukas seems genuinely surprised.

"Yeah. Why shouldn't I be?"

"I'm afraid I'm an enigma, Captain."

Steve smiles. "I'm sure you'd like to think so. If you're such an enigma, then why do you tolerate my poking and my questions?"

The tilt of his lips almost disguises the sardonic timbre of his voice. "Perhaps I'm amused at the attempt. That distinctly human drive to know the unknowable." Lukas's green eyes grow distant. "Or perhaps you remind me of someone I used to know."

Steve studies the pensive line on his forehead, the sharp planes of his face. "Someone you lost," he says, not a question but a statement.

The edges of his expression grow brittle. "That is a rather broad category, Captain. So broad as to be meaningless."

"I don't think anyone can ever be truly lost. Not when – not when you remember them. They live in your head." He breathes softly and thinks of a war, long past.

Lukas gazes at him. "You are unbearably naïve, Captain."

"I prefer the term optimist."

"There is no great distinction."

"It's a choice you make," Steve tries to explain. "To be optimistic – or naïve, if you prefer. Cause if you've got to fall one way, it's better to land on that side of the scale. I've never met a happy pessimist."

Lukas is silent for a moment before giving him a crooked smile. "Alas, pessimism is in my nature."

"But it doesn't have to be. Your nature doesn't define you. It's what you do that matters," Steve argues.

"This is to be a philosophical discussion, then?" Lukas clucks his tongue, like a schoolteacher chiding a student. Steve frowns at him. "There is no escape from one's true self. We think we have choices - but we are limited by our own minds. Choice is but an illusion. When we are presented with only a few options out of the limitless universe, can we truly be said to exercise free will?"

"Well, yeah, I think so. Even if you only have a bad option, and a worse one, you're still doing the choosing."

"Then if there are no good options, and you choose one of the bad, if every option you are presented with will hurt someone - are you evil?"

Steve stutters over his response. This is becoming a lot more serious than he bargained for. "I don't know. I don't think it's worth much, to label a person as good or evil."

"How else are we to understand our morality?"

"Good people can do bad things, and bad people can do good things. It's not easy to define, and it shouldn't be. Labeling something doesn't mean you understand it."

"But if your base instinct is to do something immoral - would it not help to know yourself as evil, to better guard against the choices you might make? Is self-knowledge not a virtue that all must possess? Does it not have value?"

Steve stops walking. The intensity in Lukas's voice is unsettling. "Do you think you're evil?" he asks, point-blank.

Lukas waves a dismissal. "Come, Captain. Have you never had the urge to do something that you know is bad, simply because it is? To see what happens?"

Lukas's green eyes gleam under the harsh fluorescent light. Steve fidgets. "Um, no. Not really." He's pulled plenty of dangerous stunts. Stunts that could be considered bad, on the face of them. Destroyed equipment, burned down factories, hell, signed himself up for the damned serum in the first place. Bucky had classified that as very, very bad. He'd been quietly furious over it.

But he'd never done any of that just to see what would happen. They'd called it the war effort and given him medals that he never pinned on.

"Truly?" Lukas seems amused. "Well, I suppose it's an innate defect."

Steve finds a whole lot wrong with that statement. "Saying it's innate, saying it's in your nature, that just shifts the blame. You have to take responsibility for your actions. That's impossible to do if you believe you can't change."

"And you believe a person can change?"

"Of course. No one's born evil, and no one's born perfect, either. We all make a choice. And we can always make a different one."

Lukas stops outside a conference room. Where they're meeting, he assumes, and wonders how Lukas knew. "I do enjoy a good intellectual argument," the consultant says. "I shall take the lesson you offered in the spirit it was intended, but do not mistake that for agreement."

Steve huffs a breath of laughter. "I wouldn't dare."

He ducks into the room to find most of the attendees already there. Fury looms at the head of the conference table, Coulson on his left and Natasha on his right. Clint leans back dangerously far in his own chair, a crooked grin sliding on his face when he notices Steve. The agent Steve had meet a few weeks ago, Roberts, sits across from him, her thick black hair pulled into a braid. Next to her, the two scientists are perched close together, whispering.

"Captain Rogers." Fury gestures at the unoccupied spot between Natasha and Clint. "I do believe we are ready to begin." He tilts his chin at the redheaded agent.

"Let's keep this short and sweet," Natasha says, flicking on a Powerpoint with a little remote. "I don't think Lukas Eld is a human."

Steve feels his mouth fall open of its own accord. He almost says, absurdly, but I was just with him. Nat clicks to the next slide. "At least, not completely. I think he's meta."

Clint goggles at her. "You made a Powerpoint for this?"

She glances up at the projection. The title is bolded. Homo Sapiens: Long-Lasting Biological Trend or Just a Fad?

"It's called organizing your thoughts, Clint. Not all of us wake up constantly hungover, face-first in a pizza box."

"That was like, twice!" Clint sets his jaw mulishly. "And you said you wouldn't tell anyone," he mutters.

"I lied," Natasha says.

Steve raises his hand. Nat gives him a look, and he lowers it. "I was just wondering - I mean, how did you come to this conclusion?"

"Observation and intuition." She skips ahead in her presentation and presses play on a grainy black-and-white video.

It's the recording from their first raid on a Centipede warehouse. The interview, when Raina made Eld wear the ring. Steve tries to follow Natasha's train of thought. "He's a smooth talker. But does that mean he isn't fully human?"

"It's not his evasions that interest me. Well - not for the purposes of this discussion." The black-clad agent lets the video play a few frames. "Really, I'm surprised this hasn't come up." She leans forward and pins Coulson with a look. "How does he know about this ring?"

"He's some kinda expert. Right?" Clint shrugs.

"A historian," Natasha corrects. "A historian who happens to know all about an 0-8-4 that S.H.I.E.L.D. has never encountered before." She points at the screen. "You don't just talk around an artifact with this kind of influence if you don't understand it. You can't bluff your way through an interview like this if you don't know what you're doing. Eld does."

"Maybe he's come across the ring before," Coulson says.

"Didn't seem like he'd ever seen it," Clint points out. "Earlier in the video, when she showed it to him."

"We did just establish that he's a good liar," Coulson retorts.

"Even if he lied about never having seen it, he knows the ring," Natasha repeats. "He knows how it works. That on its own is suspicious."

"Okay. He knows more about this ring than he should. And we know he has a shady past. Lukas Eld isn't his real name, he admitted that. But why do you insist he's a metahuman?" Steve says.

"I suppose no one has shown you the video from last night, Cap."

He looks around. It seems he's the only one who hasn't seen it. Is he always going to be kept out of the loop?

Nat skips a few slides and another video begins playback. An empty hallway in shades of grey. And then, suddenly, empty no more.

Eld appears in the frame, in the middle of the hall, from thin air. A man pulls away from him, peers in the opposite direction. The consultant lunges for him but stops short. Both men turn around, hands rising into the air.

Steve watches as they're ushered into a room under gunpoint. He chews on his lip as the video reaches its end and clicks off. "Okay. I'm starting to see your point."

Fury grunts. "And you agree with Agent Romanova, Coulson?"

"Yes." The balding man stands. "I do. I think Eld's a metahuman, and I think he knows a lot more than he lets on. About Raina's ring. And maybe other things we're investigating."

"The cracks," Steve realizes. "The one that Clint and I found in New Jersey. And the one in Southeast Asia. You think he could help us?"

Coulson pauses, glances to Fury. After a beat, he nods. "That's why I want to bring him on to my team."

"Is that a good idea?" Clint asks. "He's hasn't exactly proven himself trustworthy."

"I think the rewards outweigh the risks." Coulson turns to Fury. "We should approach him. Straightforward. Lay it all out. Tell him what we know and make it clear that we could help him, if he helps us."

"How could we help him?" Roberts says. "What does he need from us?"

"It must be hard to hide his abilities. Keep under the radar, maintain a false identity. He wouldn't have to hide with S.H.I.E.L.D. We could provide a better, deeper cover for him. And I think he likes to feel useful. Not to mention he's a bit of a show-off. He wants us to see what he can do."

"He could be dangerous," Clint insists. "We don't know what he can do. Hell, we don't know much of anything about metahumans."

"We could ask him," The young male scientist points out. Fitz - that's his name.

"Who knows if he'd tell the truth?"

"Having a metahuman on the team could be a risk," Coulson acknowledges.

"You already have one," Steve says slowly. The supervisory special agent tilts his head at him, a silent question. "Someone with extranormal abilities, right? With capabilities beyond the standard human baseline. I wasn't born with it, but I do think the serum makes me qualify."

"Yeah, but we know you, Cap. Steve Rogers isn't a fake. Eld lied to us." Clint lets his chair fall back onto the floor.

"Maybe he didn't want to be constantly watched and stared at," Steve suggests. "Maybe he didn't want to be the odd one out." He knows what it's like, to grow up knowing you were different. Thinking there was something wrong with you, for not being like everyone else. Steve can see how that would mess with someone's head.

Steve had gotten angry. With his weakness, with himself, with other people for constantly reminding him of it. So angry that he fought tooth and nail to prove his own worth.

Someone else could get bitter. Secretive. Different could become wrong, wrong could become evil.

"This team," Fury says slowly. "It's an interesting… initiative."

A half-smile lingers on Coulson's lips. "Yes. It is. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Metahumans. And maybe even a billionaire or two."

Natasha narrows her eyes. "You aren't serious."

"I said multidisciplinary."

"Coulson, I told you he's not cut out for that."

"We'll see," the supervisory agent says. "We've got problems bigger than S.H.I.E.L.D. can handle. Bigger than our standard operating procedure covers. We need help. The source of this help may be unconventional, but I think in the long run it'll work itself out."

"Let's say I approve this," Fury cuts in. "What would you have Eld do?"

"First, I'd have him assist in Raina's interrogation. He knows this ring, he can help us use it. If that works, I'd take him out to see these cracks for himself. See if he has any useful information."

"If he does?"

"We'd work with him. Make him feel part of the team. Like he has a place here. Let him see what S.H.I.E.L.D. does, and how we can benefit each other."

"What if he doesn't want to work with a team?" Natasha says sharply. "What if he's unsuited to the job?"

"Either we recruit him now, learn about his abilities, use them to help us, or we let him go." Coulson crosses his arms over his chest. "Then he goes who knows where, and works with god knows who. And we're left in the dark about what he's capable of, and he's another metahuman running around the country. A metahuman that could easily escape any surveillance we place on him." He gestures to the incriminating video, still projected on the wall.

Natasha hums. She flicks a glance his way. "Steve? You've been quiet."

He gnaws on his lip for a moment. "There's a lot to think about."

"Then let's start with Lukas Eld. Do you think he should be recruited?"

Steve thinks of Lukas's careful probing, the way he'd asked Steve if he thought a person could be born with something that made them bad - without really asking. Innate defects. The warning about the ring. The understanding on his face when Steve had mentioned the war, mentioned losing everything he'd ever loved. Understanding and scorn, at Steve's optimistic beliefs.

"I do," he says simply. "I think we should bring him on and then give him access to the ring."

"Wait - what?" Clint asks. "You want to give him the creepy woo-woo magic ring?"

"Just stick with ring," Natasha says, flicking a strand of red hair away from her eyes with one painted fingernail. "It's shorter and makes you sound less like a five year old."

Clint sticks his tongue out at her.

Steve can't suppress a smile. "Yeah, that one. He's already working on a threat assessment. Why don't we give him full access to complete his report? Before this ring is used on anybody in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody."

"You don't think we should use it at all, do you?" Coulson sighs.

Like you used my blood to try to recreate the serum? Like you used my genetic material when you were sure I couldn't protest? How is it any different, forcing someone to incriminate themselves? It's a violation. S.H.I.E.L.D. wants what they want, without caring what lines they cross to get it.

"No," he sighs. "I don't. I understand where you're coming from, but I don't think the advantages are significant enough to warrant the use of... "

"Of what amounts to forceful coercion and mental torture?" Natasha finishes the thought for him, picking at her thumbnail and throwing a glance at Coulson. "What?" she says when he purses his lips. "If we're discussing whether or not to use this approach, we should be clear on what exactly it entails. There's no need for sugarcoating."

Steve appreciates the sentiment. "I agree. We've got Raina and her weapons in custody. There's time enough to give this the consideration it deserves. Let Lukas have access to the ring, and he can brief us when he's done. We can make a better informed decision then." He'd rather have Eld preparing this report than a S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist. Eld won't be tempted to alter his findings to support the use of the ring.

Coulson laces his fingers together, rests his hands on the table. "You trust him enough to let him have access to such a powerful artifact?" He asks as if he wasn't just advocating that very same thing.

"Yes," Steve says without hesitation. "Look, I don't know Lukas Eld very well. Not yet. But from what I've seen, he respects the power of this ring, and he knows the most about it. He's cautioned us against using it already. He was instrumental in delivering it to us in the first place. I think he's got S.H.I.E.L.D.'s - or at least our best interests at heart when it comes to Raina and her ring." He shrugs. "I say we give him a chance."