Ellen ran, cradling her broken arm. Wet and cold after wading through the river, she shivered as the wind ran a chill over her battered and bruised body. Her hair was plastered over her face, and when she moved it out of the way, it peeled off the dozen or so cuts she'd received. She hissed, blinking blood out of her right eye.
Every muscle in her body ached, burning with lactic acid buildup after such a prolonged period of intense fighting. Twice she tripped and fell whilst running through the woods. She forced herself back up more out of instinct than anything else.
Keep moving. She had to keep moving.
The image of her father's body, cold and lifeless with blood leaking into his shirt, screamed at her from the black depths of her mind. Ellen whimpered, pausing to brace herself against a tree. No, not now! If she allowed herself to focus on her grief, then she'd be caught and imprisoned, kept in a deep, dark hole for the rest of her life while government interrogators pried every last bit of knowledge from her brain.
Panting, she gritted her teeth and ran. Even now, she could hear sirens and the whirring of helicopters in the distance. The net was closing around her fast. She soon stumbled out of the woods and onto a sidewalk. There were only a few people nearby, and they all balked at her bloody, soaked appearance. Ellen ignored them. Her cover blown, her support network gone, the eyes of the world on D.C., her first priority had to be reaching safe harbour. She drew the only weapon she had left, a Glock 19 with no ammo. The people around her screamed and fled.
She couldn't get far in her current state. Not far enough. So, she stepped out into traffic. A blue Toyota Corolla came down the lane at her. As it neared, she raised her gun and aimed at the driver, a thin man in a tracksuit. He slammed the brakes, coming to a sudden, violent stop just before he would've hit her. Ellen came around to the driver's side door and opened it with the ring and little fingers of her gun hand.
"P-Please don't hurt me!" the man squealed, holding his hands up.
"Get out," Ellen ordered. He complied, unbuckling with shaky hands and stepping out. She sat down and tossed her gun on the empty passenger seat. Resting her broken arm on her lap, she closed the door. After a quick scan to ensure she was the only one in the Corolla, she stepped on the gas pedal and peeled away, leaving the man standing in the street.
Thankfully her new ride was an automatic, so she didn't have to worry about switching one hand between the wheel and gear shift. Reaching the nearest intersection just as it turned red, she sped through a left turn as other cars blared their horns. Ellen checked the overhead street signs, mapping out her route. She had a safe house in the city, an out-of-the-way apartment reserved for emergencies.
No paper trail, cash payments under a pseudonym, and zero digital record with S.H.I.E.L.D. A perfect place to lay low.
Ellen tensed when she spotted a fleet of police and emergency vehicles up ahead. They'd be focused on the aftermath of the battle, not on her. Following the lead of the vehicles beside her, she pulled off to the side and came to a stop. Moments later, over a dozen police cruisers, fire trucks, and ambulances shot past, sirens wailing as lights flashed. Looking at them through the rear-view mirror, Ellen waited until they were out of sight to return to her lane.
Realizing it wouldn't take long for the car to be reported stolen, she knew she needed to ditch it. Sooner rather than later. So, she pulled into the parking lot of a McDonalds. Dressed in her green catsuit, stinking of sweat and blood, she'd stick out like a sore thumb. But with no other options, she stepped out of the car and headed down the nearest alley.
Weaving her way between alleys and darting across side streets, forced to hide behind dumpsters to avoid being seen, Ellen finally reached the apartment building. Deciding the front entrance too risky in her current state, she elected to go up the fire escape. Bracing herself, she jumped and used both hands to grab onto the ladder. Her left arm exploded with pain, and she saw stars. Whimpering as tears welled in her eyes, Ellen climbed onto the first platform. Exhaling, she slowly ascended to the top floor.
She entered the apartment through the window, closing and locking it behind her. It wasn't anything fancy, just a one-bedroom affair with a bathroom and kitchen. A place to hunker down in case of emergency. She never thought the day would come when she'd have to use it. Her arm still aching, Ellen tracked soggy boot prints across the hardwood floor as she entered the kitchen. Grabbing some Tylenol from a cupboard, she took them with a glass of tap water.
Safe. Ellen was safe here, hidden from the world. For the time being, at least, she could relax and stop looking over her shoulder. But then the crushing reality closed in once she lowered her barriers. The futility of her struggles at the Triskelion, the encounter with Steve, and the too-recent memory of finding her father as he lay dying.
Ellen started walking towards the bathroom, but only made it halfway before she couldn't go any further. Sitting with her back against the wall, she broke down and started weeping.
January 14th; the Pentagon…
"You're not gonna put me in a prison," Natasha Romanoff said. Cameras flashed behind her as journalists jotted notes, while the Senate committee arrayed on the other side of the table regarded her with a mixture of suspicion and annoyance. "You're not gonna put any of us in a prison. You know why?"
One of the committee members shrugged. "Do enlighten us."
"Because you need us. Yes, the world is a vulnerable place, and yes, we help make it that way. But we're also the ones best qualified to defend it. So, if you want to arrest me, arrest me. You'll know where to find me."
She then stood up and walked out of the room, ignoring the bevy of reporters that lobbed questions at her. The die had been cast, and now she prepared herself for the new reality she found herself in.
Safe house…
Somewhere along the way, Ellen had fallen asleep while sitting on the floor. By the time she awoke, sore and nursing the mother of all headaches, it was well past midday.
Gingerly rising to her feet, she entered the bathroom. Her left arm still hurt like a son of a bitch, but only if she moved it. Her father's wedding ring she placed on the counter. Unbuckling her utility belt and thigh holsters, Ellen took off her sodden boots then unzipped her catsuit. Removing that proved to be a tricky endeavour with only one working arm, but eventually she got it done. Tossing the green fabric on the floor, she stood in her underwear and appraised herself in the mirror.
Much of her body was covered with bruises. A dark, angry splotch marked her chest where Steve had smashed his shield into her, a faint imprint of a fist on her stomach where Tony Masters had punched her, and the yellow discolouration on her arm where Steve had broken it. Her left knee looked bruised, but nothing there felt broken, at least. Leaning closer to the mirror, Ellen examined the cuts on her face. They criss-crossed at jagged angles, scarlet blood poorly applied to porcelain skin.
Only now did she see the glass still imbedded in her skin.
Grabbing a set of tweezers from one of the drawers, she grabbed the first shard and pulled it free. A bolt of pain lanced through her, and she hissed between her teeth. Over the next few minutes, she pulled out the rest of the shards. Each wound leaked, dripping blood into the sink and onto the counter. With the last of the glass out, Ellen dropped the tweezers and steadied herself on the edge of the counter.
She looked at her reflection, a twisted, bloody doppelganger of herself. Blood ran from cuts mostly concentrated on the right side of her face. Beside her brutalized features, she saw the ghostly echoes of Nick Fury and Natasha Romanoff. Her father's blood stained their clothes, and they smiled at her, mocking her over what they'd done.
Ellen screamed, punching the mirror. It cracked, distorting her reflection even further. Ellen Pierce, law-abiding citizen and philanthropist, was gone. Fury and Romanoff had taken that from her.
All that remained was Madame Hydra.
January 15th; Cemetery…
"So, you've experienced this sort of thing before," Fury said as he walked up to them. The three men looked at the freshly dug grave, absent a body. The sun shone bright and birds chirped in the trees around them. It almost felt as if the world hadn't almost ended mere days ago.
"You get used to it," Steve replied.
"We've been data mining HYDRA's files. Looks like a lot of rats didn't go down with the ship. I'm headed to Europe tonight. Wanted to ask if you'd come."
Steve sighed, looking at the grave. "There's a few things I got to do first."
Fury nodded. "How about you, Wilson? Could use a man with your abilities."
Sam looked at Steve, thinking it over. "I'm more of a soldier than a spy," he said.
"Alright, then. It's probable you won't see me, not for a long time. Things are bit too hot right now for me to be in the public eye."
"Because of Ellen?" Steve asked. The familiar pit of regret opened in his gut, remembering how the woman he thought he'd known had deceived him for so long.
Fury nodded gravely. "I've known her most of her life. When she sets her mind on something, she doesn't let anything get in her way." He cast his eyes down at the grass. "I just didn't know how far she was willing to go until now," he said sadly.
"Me, too," Steve said.
Sam crossed his arms. "A woman like that? She's bound to come after you for what you did to her father."
"I give her better odds than most. But I've been in this game a lot longer. She won't find me. My concern is what she might do when she figures that out. And someone with her skills can do a lot of damage in the meantime."
"I'll find her," Steve said. "She joined HYDRA because her father manipulated her. If I can just talk with her, get her to see the bigger picture, maybe there's a chance she can come around." Sam and Fury shared a dubious glance, but they didn't bother trying to argue.
Fury shook their hands, then pointed to the gravestone. "Anybody asks for me, tell them they can find me, right here." With a final nod, he walked away.
"You should be honoured," Natasha said as she approached from the other side. "That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you."
Steve smiled. "Not going with him?"
"No," she replied.
"Not staying here."
It was her turn to smile. "Nah. I blew all my covers. I got to go figure out a new one."
"That might take a while," he pointed out.
"I'm counting on it." Her expression sobered. "I'm sorry, for the way things turned out with Pierce."
"Yeah, me too."
"Sometimes the people closest to us can hurt us the most." Her words carried the weight of a woman wise beyond her years. It was a quality he'd always admired about her. "I've been browsing the casualty reports coming out of the Triskelion, and surprise, surprise, she's not on them."
"I saw that, too."
"Knowing you as well as I do, I imagine you're gonna try to track her down?" Natasha asked, though by the look on her face she already knew the answer. "I realize it'd be hypocritical of me to judge her for what she's done in her past. But sooner or later, she'll have to answer for what she's done. And it's better if we bring her in than a CIA black ops team. So, if you ever want help looking for her, don't hesitate to call."
Steve smiled, nodding in appreciation. "Thanks."
She sighed. "And, that thing you asked for, I called in a few favours from Kyiv." She took out a brown file folder with Cyrillic writing from inside her jacket.
He accepted it, fingers unwilling to crack it open out of fear of what he might see inside.
Natasha regarded him for a long moment, recent events hanging heavy over both of them. She finally leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. With a comforting shoulder squeeze, she turned and walked away. "Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread."
Steve looked down at the folder, forcing himself to open it. On the right were pages of Cyrillic, with handwritten notations. On the left was an old photograph of Bucky, frozen in some sort of cryo stasis chamber. Paperclipped to its bottom right corner was a black and white picture from his days in the army. Even looking at them side to side, Steve couldn't believe they were the same person.
He knew in his heart the man he'd loved as a brother was still in there, deep down. Just as Ellen's better nature lived deep inside her, past the layers of hatred and lies.
Sam stepped over to his side. "You're going after them." It wasn't a question.
"You don't have to come with me."
"I know," Sam replied. Then, "When do we start?"
January 17th; Stark Tower…
Maria sat down at her desk, a tablet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. With the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the resulting power vacuum in the intelligence community, a great deal of rebuilding would be in order. Many former agents had migrated to organizations like the CIA, FBI, and ISA. Those that hadn't either died in the battle at the Triskelion or been HYDRA moles. She was nothing if not adaptable, and even though he no longer held the rank of Director –having given it to Phil Coulson for his clandestine efforts– Fury had chosen her assignment for her.
Now she worked for Stark Industries. God help her.
Her official title was 'Avengers Intelligence Liaison', but they were still in the process of assembling in the wake of HYDRA's resurgence. In the meantime, Maria had been hard at work sifting through every last bit of data salvaged from the Triskelion. Countless HYDRA agents had fled to the four corners, and the best place to start would be identifying them from archived security footage.
Logging into her workstation, she swiped a finger across the holographic screen. A video file appeared from her list, and she played. Blowing on her coffee, Maria leaned back in her chair and watched the footage play. Over the next few hours, she jotted notes on agent names, assignments, and locations in the battle. She saw clips of S.T.R.I.K.E. teams executing agents in the Helicarrier bays, Brock Rumlow killing a group of men in a stairwell, and Ellen Pierce shooting office personnel with other HYDRA moles beside her.
She compared all the hostiles in the footage to casualty reports, crossing off names of those deceased or already in custody. Even for someone of her experience and ability, it was a slog. Taking a final sip of her coffee, she tilted her head back while rubbing her neck.
While she wasn't looking, her keyboard typed on its own, and a new video file appeared.
Looking back at the screen, Maria furrowed her brow. The file in front of her had been much further down her list, corrupted and most likely unusable. It looked fully intact, somehow. She must have accidentally brought it up. Just as she prepared to swipe back to her previous place, she paused. Something in the paused clip caught her eye. Leaning forward, Maria recognized it as Tony.
Her ex-husband had managed to fight his way through the battle, all the while calling her to see if she'd been okay. Too busy coordinating Cap and Falcon's infiltration of the Helicarriers at the time, she hadn't been able to respond. Only at the battle's conclusion had she contacted him.
Her curiosity piqued, she tapped the file and played it. Ellen Pierce and other HYDRA agents, having executed more office staff, were taken by surprise when Tony ambushed them. With impressive technique and resourcefulness, he took down the other agents before engaging Pierce herself. The blonde woman fought ferociously, but Tony held the advantage. At one point she leaped on him and performed a twisting manoeuvre similar to one Romanoff was known for.
Tony landed on his feet, then perfectly replicated the move and threw Pierce to the floor.
Maria frowned. That move would be quite difficult to perform for someone with a much heavier build than the woman he fought. Dragging an icon from her tablet, she swiped it at the screen. It appeared there, overlaying a program that analyzed physical performance and motion. Stark had developed it while working on his Iron Man armours.
The program analyzed Pierce's movements, then Tony's. A moment later, it chimed with the results. A perfect, 100 percent match. Even if Tony had been studying Romanoff and managed to perform such a complicated move, that shouldn't have been possible. No human could replicate another so flawlessly.
An unsettling suspicion clawed through Maria's chest. There had to be a reasonable explanation. After all, this was the father of her child. Any accusation had to have absolute, irrefutable proof. And so, she resumed playing.
Pierce got back up, looking confused. "How the hell did you do that?" she asked.
Tony shrugged, looking nonchalant. "It's like John Wayne used to say: "Tomorrow hopes we have learned something from yesterday."
Pierce's eyes widened, her body stiffening. Tony punched her in the gut, then threw her to the floor.
"Sorry it has to end like this, kid," he said. "But I gotta look after me and mine."
"We shouldn't be fighting at all," Pierce said, clutching her stomach. "I can write you a check right now."
"Not this time." Maria clutched the table so tight her knuckles turned white, his words making her suspicions less ridiculous.
"I should've known. Today will change the world for the better. And you've only been in it for the money. You don't know what it's like, devoting your life to a cause."
"Actually, I do," Tony refuted. "But I wouldn't expect your Neo-Nazi friends to understand. I give Captain America and his pals decent odds of beating you. He did it before."
"So what now?" Pierce asked. "Are you going to kill me?"
"No consider this a courtesy. One I don't give to just anyone. I always did like you, kid."
Maria shot up so fast she knocked her chair back. The empty coffee mug fell off the table and smashed against the floor. All she could think was, 'Oh God, Tony. What have you done?'
New York…
Tony stepped up to the register, placing the six pack of beer on the counter. The cute cashier with a pixie cut smiled at him just a bit too long as he paid. Flattered, he flashed her a grin as he left with his beer. His phone rang as he reached his car, and he saw Maria's name on the screen.
"Hey," he said after answering. "What do you think Samantha would prefer to do this weekend? I can't decide between a trip to the Smithsonian or getting tickets to see Wicked."
"I'm sure she'd love either of those."
Tony clicked his tongue. "Yeah, that's why I'm having trouble picking. Anyway, don't mind me. What's up?"
"I was actually calling with an invitation," she explained.
His eyebrows rose a little. "Oh?"
"Samantha talked me into having a picnic in Central Park, and she wanted me to ask if you'd be willing to join us?"
Getting into his car, Tony asked, "And you'd be okay with that?"
"I actually think it might be good for all of us to spend some time together. After what happened in D.C., I think she might be a little rattled."
He nodded. "She has been calling me every day since then." Checking his watch, he added, "I'll swing by my place to grab some things, then meet you guys in…half an hour?"
"Sounds good. We'll see you soon."
Tony spent the drive to his apartment bathing in a warm glow of excitement. The three of them hadn't had a family outing in a while. He knew Samantha missed having them all together. Since his father turned out to be a worthless coward, he'd only ever needed his mother. But Samantha had grown up with both parents in her life, and no matter the differences between him and Maria, he was more than willing to make it work for her sake.
After dropping off groceries at his apartment, he loaded a sports bag and headed out.
The park seemed quiet for this time of day. Upon entering, he saw hardly anyone around, just a few scattered groups of men and women in the distance. No kids or anyone older than 50. He frowned, but brushed it off as he strolled along the path. It was a school day, and maybe the seniors found the weather too hot.
Up ahead, he spotted Maria standing in the centre of a grass field, her back turned to him. Whistling a tune, he walked off the path and onto the field. It really was a perfect day.
"Hey," he called as he walked up to her. She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. Holding up the sports bag, he said, "I brought some frisbees, lemonade, a football, and some batons. Samantha's been wanting to learn twirling." Tony noticed a distinct lack of blanket and food, as well as the fact the two of them were the only people around. "Where is she?" he asked, looking around.
"She's not here, Tony," Maria replied.
He dropped the bag on the ground. "What is this?"
She stared at him with cold, focused eyes. Once, those eyes regarded him with love and affection. Now she looked at him as if he were the enemy. "I need you to explain it to me."
Tony shrugged. "Explain what?"
In response, she tapped something on her phone and showed it to him. He recognized himself and Ellen Pierce in the Triskelion, once he'd surprised her and knocked her to the floor. "Sorry it has to end like this, kid. But I gotta look after me and mine."
"We shouldn't be fighting at all. I can write you a check right now."
"Not this time."
"I should've known. Today will change the world for the better. And you've only been in it for the money. You don't know what it's like, devoting your life to a cause."
"Actually, I do. But I wouldn't expect your Neo-Nazi friends to understand. I give Captain America and his pals decent odds of beating you. He did it before."
"So what now? Are you going to kill me?"
"No consider this a courtesy. One I don't give to just anyone. I always did like you, kid."
Shit.
Tony looked back at Maria's face. He just had to play this cool, assuage her suspicions. "Okay…And what is this supposed to prove? You'll notice I almost get shot five seconds after this."
Maria put the phone down. "You're Taskmaster."
Shit.
He took a half step back, affecting a look of shock and outrage. "Jesus, Maria, is that what you think? That I'm a mercenary, and that somehow I've managed to keep my identity secret this whole time? All based on a ten second conversation?"
"When Pierce said she'd cut you a check, you said 'not this time'," Maria said. "That implies you took money from her before. And then you avoid killing her out of 'courtesy' because you've always liked her. That tells me you two have a history, and I know for a fact you've never been on a mission together. You've barely spoken to each other since you both joined S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Listen, if you–"
"Yeah, I know all this is circumstantial," she said, cutting him off. "So I did some digging. Looked into Taskmaster's previous clients and jobs. That led me to review the Lemurian Star mission. S.T.R.I.K.E.-issue comm devices automatically record every piece of audio they detect. Pierce and her team's devices recorded Taskmaster quoting John Wayne, just like you did. And the payment wired by email? After it was withdrawn, it ran through a dozen different accounts. One of them under the name Harold Spiers."
Tony felt a chill crawl through his bones.
"He died of lung cancer nearly 20 years ago. Before that, he was the owner of a diner in the Bronx. The same diner your mother worked at when you were a kid." Maria glared at him. "You're Taskmaster."
Shit!
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Tony felt himself smile as he shook his head. "You always were the best at this sort of thing."
She looked away, lips curled in an angry scowl. "Why? I deserve to know."
He sighed. "Honest answer? It pays better."
"That's it? You did it all for the money?"
"If I'm gonna risk my life, then I might as well get adequately paid for my services. And for your information, it was never just the money. I did it for us. You, me, and especially Samantha."
Maria shook her head in disgust. "You're actually deluded enough to think this was for her? You did this for yourself, Tony."
"She's gonna be set up for life," he countered, his anger rising. "She'll never have to know what it's like to be poor, to go hungry because there isn't enough to buy food, to work yourself to death at three jobs just so your kid can go to school. Samantha will have the life I never had, the future I could only dream about when I was her age–"
"No, Tony, that is bullshit."
"And if I had to break a few laws to do it, then so be it! Those laws are put in place to keep the good people poor and the rich in power–"
"That is bullshit."
"What, you think you can judge me? Little Miss right hand of the world's biggest spy? Can you honestly say that the shit we did for S.H.I.E.L.D. is any better than what I do? That being a spy is somehow nobler than being a mercenary? It's all bull, Maria. I did what I had to for our family, for our daughter, so don't start–"
"That is BULLSHIT!" Her nostrils flared as she barely kept her anger in check. "You do not get to use our daughter as an excuse! You're a criminal, Tony. A murderer, thief, pirate, and who knows what else. You knew about…" She exhaled between clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You knew Ellen Pierce as a HYDRA agent, which means you knew about them long before the battle."
Forcing himself to remain calm and not do anything he'd regret, Tony replied, "Who do you think trained her? They wanted the best to help her build her skills, and that's exactly what I am."
"You son of a bitch," she whispered. "You knew about HYDRA and you said nothing. How many people have died because of that?"
"I never discuss my clients," he explained. "I may be a criminal, but I have a code."
"Well good for you. Now I have no choice but to bring you in. I hope you're happy with yourself, Tony, because you're never going to see Samantha again."
Tony felt his fingers twitch as the rage boiled within. "You think you can do that to me, Maria? You think you'll get away with taking my daughter from me–" He took a half step forward, the thought of losing his little girl forever overriding all other thoughts.
She jerked back, drawing the gun at her belt and aiming it at his chest.
He stopped, blinking in surprise. "Maria, you know I would never hurt you."
"I don't know you," she retorted. "Turns out, I never did."
He opened his mouth to respond, but then he noticed her eyes flick to her left. It lasted only for a split second, almost too fast to see. But he did. Anyone else would've missed it, since Maria had near-total control over herself and her expressions. But he knew her better than anyone. She'd looked at something, or someone, out of view. And if that were the case…
Relying on his prodigious instincts, Tony leaped off the ground just as Captain America's shield sliced through the spot he'd been standing. He landed in a crouch as the shield bounced off a nearby tree before returning to its owner's hand. Tony turned to see the golden boy himself catch the shield, calmly approaching. The World War II uniform still had some tears and signs of damage from the Triskelion battle.
Glaring at Maria –who had taken several steps back to get clear– Tony looked at him and said, "Well, well, well. If it isn't the Little Boy From Brooklyn Who Could."
Captain America regarded him with caution. "Let me guess: Bronx?"
Tony shrugged.
"This doesn't have to get ugly."
"Too late for that, tough guy."
Tony cracked his neck, then raised his fists in a classic boxers' stance. Captain America paused, then responded by hurling the shield. He dodged left, then charged, deciding to use Batroc's moves. His legs shot forward in a series of powerful kicks that put his opponent on the defensive. When Captain America retaliated, Tony recognized and anticipated the moves. Ducking from side to side, he avoided the rapid-fire punches before aiming a roundhouse kick to the other man's face.
Captain America rolled under his leg, picking up the shield and turning to face him.
"There's something you oughta know about me, Cap," Tony said. "I got this rare condition. They call it photographic reflexes. Means anything I see you do, I can do. And I've seen lots of you. There isn't a single move of yours I don't know."
Before he could attack, he heard something roaring through the air towards him. Turning just in time, he saw the winged form of Sam Wilson careening like his namesake bird of prey. Wilson leaned back, kicking him in the chest with both feet. Tony felt himself flying back from the impact, his chest aching. Relying on Black Widow's agility, he righted himself as he landed, sliding to a stop with the redhead's signature pose.
Captain America and 'Falcon' –as the news had been calling him– stood side by side facing him. All around, the scant few people in the park drew weapons and inserted earpieces. Federal agents, then, disguised. They'd cleared this section of the park before he arrived. Tony was boxed in, surrounded. And right now, he squared off against the world's greatest soldier and a guy flying on metal wings.
'Ain't no way in hell I'm going down easy.'
Cracking his knuckles, Tony charged the two men, who did the same. A furious melee ensued, fists flying as shields were swung and wing jets flared. Reviewing his catalogue of move sets he'd memorized, Tony selected Batroc and the Winter Soldier. The pirate and the assassin were some of the only men on the planet who stood a chance against Captain America. He used their moves interchangeably, sometimes switching mid-strike, to keep his opponents on the back foot. They fought well together, but not well enough.
At one point, Tony whipped out one of Black Widow's moves. Flipping backwards, he landed on Captain America's shoulders. Clenching his thighs around the old man's neck, Tony used his strength and agility to flip him hard onto the ground. All in one move.
Falcon flew at him parallel to the ground, fists raised. Tony switched to Captain America's moves. He flipped in a backwards somersault kick that struck the other man in the face, causing him to plow into the grass.
Captain America hurled his shield, which Tony flipped to the side to dodge. It bounced off a tree and returned to its owner, who hurled it again. Back and forth, back and forth, throw and dodge. Falcon lunged at him again, and even though he kicked the soldier in the gut, Tony was a second too late to avoid taking the shield square in his chest. It drove the air from his lungs, knocking him onto his back.
He rolled out of the way of Captain America's punch, then got back to his feet. Touching a hand to his chest, he realized his chances were getting slimmer by the minute. Despite his prodigious hand-to-hand skills, without his armour and weapons his future didn't look that great.
Blocking a –literal– flying kick from Falcon, Tony landed a punch to the man's jaw. He followed up with a headbutt which took him down for the count. Focusing on Captain America, he traded blows at lightning speeds, relying on the Winter Soldier and Batroc's moves to keep up with the super soldier's inhuman reflexes. After taking a spinning kick that threw him into a tree, Tony leaped onto his opponent's back with one of Ellen Pierce's moves and twisted until he sat on his shoulders. He held nothing back as he landed punch after punch to Captain America's head, using all of his strength.
A gunshot boomed nearby, and Tony's shoulder exploded with pain. He fell back, landing hard on the grass. Pressing a hand into his shoulder, he felt the warm, wet blood on his palm. Maria appeared above him, the barrel of her pistol still smoking. He stared up at her, panting from the fight as his shoulder burned.
The area became a swarm of activity as the agents all converged. Most of them surrounded Tony, weapons raised, as half a dozen moved in. They roughly kicked him onto his stomach, seizing his wrists and securing handcuffs on them. One agent grabbed him by the wounded shoulder to haul him onto his feet. He hissed from the contact. Glaring at Maria, he said, "God damn you for doing this."
She pursed her lips. "You did this to yourself, Tony."
The agents shoved him forward as Captain America rubbed his jaw. Next to him, Falcon groaned as he stood, looking unsteady on his feet.
After slapping bandages over his gunshot wound and unceremoniously loading him into the back of a black SUV, the agents drove off. They were the centre of a convoy of three vehicles. Tony felt flattered, warranting such precautions. Maria had had to call on two Avengers just to keep up with him. It almost hadn't been enough.
He should've known she would shoot him. She always had been decisive like that.
"Mind telling me where we're goin'?" Tony asked the two men in front.
Neither of them so much as looked at him.
"Tough crowd," he mumbled, the wound in his shoulder making him wince.
Looking out the window, he watched the familiar streets and buildings pass by. Thinking ten minutes enough time, he remembered the moves he'd learned from watching tapes of Houdini in his youth. With a twist and flourish, he freed himself from the handcuffs. He then gripped the cuffs so they'd go over his fingers like brass knuckles.
"Hey, I think you might need to check these out," he said. The agent in the passenger's seat turned his head to look just as Tony punched him in the face. The added metal of the cuffs made a split on the man's brow. He then drove his elbow into the face of the agent driving.
Up ahead, the lead vehicle in the convoy came to a stop as the light turned red. Reaching forward, Tony grabbed the wheel and turned right. The SUV turned and kept moving forward into the intersection. The cars that started moving blared their horns as they came to sudden, skid mark-inducing stops. A quick glance in the rear-view mirror showed the other two convoy vehicles trying to pursue, only to be stopped by the sudden barrier of cars.
Tony smirked, blocking a punch from one of the agents as he hit them both with his fists and elbows. Grabbing the wheel once more, he turned hard to the right. The inertia knocked the driving agent's head into the window as they careened down a side street. With a final elbow into the other agent's head, leaving them both knocked out, Tony opened the nearest door and jumped out.
He combat-rolled onto the asphalt, grunting as his shoulder exploded with fresh bursts of pain. Coming to a stop, he saw the SUV drive straight into a light pole. Knowing the other agents would be right behind him, he wasted no time by running through an alley to his right.
It wasn't that hard to evade detection. Swiping a baseball cap from a bystander, then a jacket on the back of an empty restaurant patio chair, he deliberately altered his gait. If someone were to look at him in person or through a camera, they wouldn't recognize him. Not even Maria. Few on Earth had his talent for mimicking other people so seamlessly. At one point, a pair of police cruisers roared past on the street with lights and sirens. Tony kept his eyes low and his feet moving.
Eventually, he found a set of payphones across from a dingy little diner. Inserting the coins, he held the phone to his ear and dialed the familiar number.
It rang three times. For a second, Tony feared that Maria or another federal agent would answer. "Hello?" his mother said. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Hello?"
"Hey Ma," he said. "It's me."
"Oh hi, baby! I didn't recognize the number."
He chuckled. "Yeah, sorry about that. My phone died on me. Do you know where Samantha is?"
"She's here with me. Maria asked me to look after her for the afternoon. Said somethin' about a work thing that came up. I guess they're keeping her busy at her new job."
'You have no idea,' Tony thought. "That's good. Uh, could you…could you put Samantha on? I don't have that long."
"Sure thing, baby." Then, muffled, "Samantha, it's your dad!"
After a spot of crinkling as the phone changed hands, his daughter said, "Hey, dad!"
Tony smiled, glancing at either end of the street. So far, no one. "Hey, baby girl. How are you?"
"I'm good. Mom dropped me off a few hours ago. Something about work, I guess. Hey, how cool is it that she's working at Stark Industries? You think she helps Iron Man work on his suits?"
"It's-It's pretty cool," he said, forcing himself to sound normal. The last thing he wanted was to raise her suspicions. Especially while saying goodbye.
"I'm really looking forward to this weekend. Grandma said you were planning something special. You think you could tell me what it is?"
"I, uh…" Tony said. Pressing the handset against his shirt, he cleared his throat as his eyes watered. 'Keep it together.' Holding it back to his ear, he said, "That's actually why I'm calling. I'm really sorry, Samantha, but something's come up, and I…I'll have to cancel this weekend."
"Oh," she said. There was no mistaking the disappointment in her voice. "Well, maybe next weekend? I'm sure mom would say yes."
Despite his best efforts, a tear ran down his cheek. "I'm sure she would, but I can't do next weekend, either. This thing that came up, it-it's pretty big. I probably won't be able to see you for a while."
"What about my tournament next month? You promised you'd come!"
Tony ground his teeth so hard it hurt, hating himself for putting her through this. "Hey, listen. My butt might not be in the seat, but you know where I'll be? I'll be right with you the whole time, looking out for you. Because I think about you all the time, baby girl. I think about how much I've seen you accomplish. You can do anything, understand? Anything you set your mind to. Because you're a Masters. We don't quit, and we always find a way forward. I am…I am so proud of you."
"Thanks, dad. Are you okay? You sound a little weird."
Wiping his eyes with the back of a hand, he laughed. "Yeah, I'm good. Just wanted to let you know I won't be there for a while. While I'm gone, I want you to do a few things for me, okay?"
"Sure," she said.
"Try not to give your grandma a hard time, okay? And, uh, do whatever your mom says. She's one of the smartest people I've ever met. And tell her you love her every day. She's been through a lot, and I know that'll make her feel better. I love you."
"I love you, too, dad."
"Hey, next time I see you, I'll take you on a big trip. We can-we can go to Coney Island, or Yellowstone, or wherever. I'll take you to Rome if you want. How does that sound?"
"That sounds awesome!"
"Could you put your grandma back on?"
"Yeah, sure. Bye, dad. Hope to see you soon."
"See you soon," he said quietly as the other end of the line crinkled.
"Tony?" his mother asked. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, Ma. Everything's fine. This, uh, this thing came up. I won't be seeing you guys for a while."
"Okay," she said hesitantly. "How long?"
"I'm thinkin' it'll be a long time. Just thought I'd talk to you before I leave. I don't think I ever said 'thank you' enough times. You put yourself through hell for me, and I never fully appreciated everything you did. Working those dead-end jobs, coming home exhausted every night…"
"That's what moms do, baby. That stuff was hard, but it was all worth it just to see a smile on your face once in a while. And you're a good dad, y'know? I'm so proud of how you turned out, and Samantha's a wonderful girl. That's all because of you and Maria."
Tony smiled. "I wouldn't be the person I am without you, Ma. So, just in case I didn't say it enough…thank you. I love you."
"I love you, too, baby. Hey, take care of yourself, you hear? Samantha needs her father around, so make sure you come home safe, okay? Otherwise I'll find you and whoop your ass, young man."
Tony laughed. "I hear ya loud and clear, Ma. Bye."
"Bye, Tony."
With shaking hands, he hung up the phone. Resting his forehead against the top of the payphone booth, he exhaled a shuttering breath. Closing his eyes, all he could see were their faces. His girls were his whole world, and now thanks to Maria and her Avenger buddies, he might not see them forever. He opened his eyes when a siren blared in the distance, reminding him of the danger posed as long as he stayed in New York.
Pulling the bill of the baseball cap down just a bit more to obscure his features, he stuffed his hands in the stolen jacket pockets and walked away.
January 18th; the Playground…
Coulson walked in to see May sitting alone in the common area, an open bottle of whiskey on the table and a glass in hand. She still had some cuts and bruises, as did Coulson and the rest of their team. After the catastrophic battles against John Garrett, Ward's betrayal, and HYDRA's resurgence which led to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s collapse, they all had scars.
May noticed him approach, raising her glass with a wry grin. "Care to join me, Director?"
Coulson snorted. Fury's decision to name him as successor and hand over the Toolbox still felt surreal. But after everything that had happened, he considered it par for the course. Sitting on the couch beside her, he sighed. "Can't sleep?"
She arched an eyebrow. "I feel like I should be asking you that."
"I guess a spot of insomnia shouldn't be surprising, everything the team's been through."
May nodded. She looked up, and Coulson followed her gaze to the television. A news broadcast played, detailing the wreckage of the Triskelion and the global shock of HYDRA revealing itself in such a spectacular fashion. Pictures of Secretary Pierce, HYDRA's leader, appeared on the screen, with confirmations of his death in the battle. Then came pictures of Ellen Pierce, his daughter and a former S.T.R.I.K.E. team leader.
The words 'HYDRA Second-in-command' rolled across the bottom of the screen.
"You ever meet her?" May asked, sipping her drink.
"Once or twice. Different crowds. But she had an impeccable service record, and barely a day went by without someone comparing her skills to Romanoff. I guess we know where she directed all that training." He looked at May. "You knew her, right? The Bogotá embassy takeover?"
May nodded, her eyes fixed on the television. "The first time I laid eyes on her, she was a scared little girl, too petrified to move when we were getting the hostages out. By the time we met at the Academy, she'd become a driven young woman who wouldn't let anything stop her. Saw a bit of myself in her, you know?"
"That's high praise, coming from you," he teased.
She gave him a half-hearted glare, then finished her glass. "I met her on the worst day of her life, then got the chance to evaluate her as a potential S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. She struck me as someone who refused to let life beat her down any more than it already had. I have a hard time believing someone that innocent, that dedicated, could disguise the kind of hatred HYDRA fosters."
Coulson rested a foot on one knee. "Sometimes people learn to hide the darkness inside them. After a while, the lying becomes…second nature." His thoughts turned to Ward, the man they'd all trusted and fought beside. The man who served HYDRA the whole time. "Unfortunately, the kind of training S.H.I.E.L.D. offered was all too perfect in that regard. You can't blame yourself for any of this. No one saw this coming, not me or Fury or Cap."
Footage from a D.C. causeway played, showing a woman in a green catsuit –that they now knew to be Ellen Pierce in disguise– battling Captain America and Agent Romanoff. May refilled her glass, then said, "Well, all indications are that she abandoned ship with the rest of HYDRA. Rats are like any animal; they're most dangerous when they're cornered."
Coulson gestured to the walls around them. "It's a good thing the exterminators got a new office, then."
She snorted, taking another sip. Then she handed him the glass and stood. "I think I'll turn in. You should get some sleep…Director Coulson."
He smiled, watching her leave. Sipping the whiskey, he watched the television, recent events and an uncertain future dancing in his head.
January 19th; HYDRA Research Base…
Wolfgang von Strucker stood with his hands clasped, eyes roaming over the laboratory. The recent news had left a pall of fear and anger hanging over the base. For the first time in nearly a century, they were exposed, brought out of the shadows and into the burning light.
Doctor List walked up to him, hands in his pockets. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his brow. "It's over," he stated with finality. "Fury has released everything to the public."
"Everything he knows about," Strucker countered.
"Herr Strucker, if they get word of our work here, if they find out we serve HYDRA–"
Strucker scoffed as he strolled through the lab. "HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D. Two sides of a coin that's no longer currency."
He stopped at the workstation where the Sceptre was mounted, scanners combing over every square inch of the alien device. The source of their successes.
"What we have is worth more than any of them ever knew. We've only scratched the surface and already…" He trailed off as he stared at the blue gem in the sceptre's heart. The hypnotic blue glow resonated through his body every time he looked at it. Clicking his tongue, he forced himself to walk away. "There are other facilities doing HYDRA's good work around the world. We'll feed them to Captain America and his colourful friends, and keep them off our scent." He and List walked by racks of stored weapons, bits of tech, everything they'd been able to acquire before the disaster in America.
"What about the volunteers?" List asked as they approached the cells.
"The dead will be buried so deep their own ghosts won't be able to find them." They stopped at the trio of observation cells. The only successful subjects had been placed here for observation in the wake of their ascension, monitored 24/7 until he could be certain the subjects' vitality remained intact.
List gestured with his pen to the three Sokovians. "And the survivors?"
Strucker regarded his prized creations, his greatest achievements.
The boy, having torn off the sleeves of his grey jumpsuit, sped across his cell in a blink of silver streaks, bouncing off the wall. His arms seemed to vibrate so fast they were invisible to the naked eye. He panted, gripping his shaggy, unkempt hair, then sped to the other corner.
His sister sat by the reinforced glass wall of her cell. As opposed to her hyperactive twin, she looked the picture of calm and serenity. Her eyes twinkled a bright scarlet, swirling energy dancing over her fingers as she levitated wooden blocks in the air.
The girl, their lifelong friend, sat in the bed of her cell. Once, her eyes had been a dull shade of brown. Now, they were a bright and hypnotic blue, much like the gem that had rebirthed her. She stared up at the ceiling, fingers rhythmically curling and uncurling like sheets flapping in the wind. The girl took notice of him, staring into his eyes with her own. He saw them flash, comparing it to an old camera taking a picture. Her demeanor shifted, her head cocking to one side as she studied him. Strucker recognized the inquisitiveness, the calculation in her gaze, as his own. He smirked, a part of him feeling proudest of her out of the three.
"Sooner or later, Captain America and the others will meet the twins and Ms. Novak. It's not a world of spies anymore. Not even a world of heroes. This is the age of miracles, Doctor. There's nothing more horrifying than a miracle."
The calmer Maximoff twin narrowed her eyes at the wooden blocks she played with. She clapped her hands together, and the blocks collided with such force that the wood splintered, creating a jagged mass that fell to the floor.
Here we see some of the fallout from last chapter, and now Ellen and Tony are on the run. I intended for Ellen to be the central character that'd receive the most focus, but I've developed a great affection for Tony. He's so much fun to explore, with his life as a mercenary and his relationship with his daughter. Those things give me a chance to flesh out his character in interesting ways.
Also, I first wrote the clues that led to his identity reveal as being more obvious. I chose this way because it gave Maria the chance to display her smarts. There's a reason Fury had someone so young be the Deputy Director of the world's largest intelligence organization. Plus, Tony and Maria's confrontation has been a long-time coming.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and the paths these characters are currently on. They'll go through some pretty drastic changes by the end, so stay tuned each week to see them develop.
Until next time!
P.S. Also, I am thoroughly enjoying Moon Knight so far! Right now it's a contender for best Disney + show.
Vosck: I'll be taking them in surprising directions, that's for sure. And thanks so much for your review! Hope you enjoy this one.