The anomaly sensor wasn't the most useful tool in SHIELD's arsenal. When it went off, you knew something had happened. Something out of the ordinary. Something that generated high levels of energy, radiation, sound waves, fluctuations in space-time, etc.
This is not helpful.
"What do you think is waiting for us?" Steve asked on the ride over. Steve was always good for a little backup, especially after Coulson's last near-death experience failed to 'put the fear of God into him' properly. The spangled man often invited himself along, and Coulson honestly couldn't be happier. So, with a squad of agents behind them, the two men had hopped into a SHIELD helicopter and made for the Rocky Mountains.
"I really don't know," Coulson hedged. "It could be anything from an ice witch demon to Stark forgetting to carry the 1 in his equations and accidentally cloning himself."
Steve laughed. "I don't know which is worse."
The location of the blip was high in the mountains, far away from civilization. It was ideal, in the same way Thor's crash landing in the Puente Antiguo desert had been ideal: no local news reporters to shut down, no bribes to be paid, no memories to wipe. It was isolated and containable.
It was also incredibly unfortunate, because Coulson and Steve both hated the cold.
Maybe the next extraterrestrial visitor could do them a favor and land in Bora Bora? It would have to happen eventually. Ever since Asgard decided to make Earth their official Unruly Child Dumping Ground, stranger and stranger beings had been showing up, seemingly drawn to their simple blue planet like moths to flame. Coulson had the training to deal with these situations, but he never expected the frequency that he would be alerted to unknown lifeforms materializing in the middle of shopping malls, emerging from oceans, or possessing well-known celebrity Jack Nicholson. Which had happened. Twice.
It wasn't too much to ask that the next one land in the tropics, was it?
The first step into shin-deep snow was almost unbearable.
The impact site formed a baseball diamond-sized crater on the icy plateau where they landed. The sky was white instead of blue, dense with clouds and crystalline rain. It was the kind of wet cold that soaked into every part of you and stole the energy from your bones.
Steve winced at the scene before them. It reminded him all at once of the train, of the plane crash, of the 70 years frozen in ice, of Bucky's cryogenic chamber. Nothing good ever came from the cold, in his opinion, and the sight before him certainly did nothing to improve his impression. Red was splattered everywhere, grotesquely vibrant against the snow.
Aliens were common, but they usually weren't dying.
"They can't be alive," Steve said, "can they?"
"A human couldn't. Then again, Thor survived being hit by a car twice, so we can't assume."
Steve almost smiled at that. Coulson was good at taking the tension out of situations. He needed to get better at that, himself. Maybe everything with Tony could have been avoided if he was more diplomatic and less strict with his ideals, if he was warmer and more welcoming… Then again, maybe it would have gone the same way regardless. Tony's expectations of him were laid out long before they ever met, and Steve's ethics weren't up for compromise.
They fell into silence as they supervised the agents shifting through the snowy crime scene. The rebuilt SHIELD certainly seemed purged of Hydra influence, but there were still moments when Steve had to entertain that little niggling doubt. Operating the way they do, just outside the law, walking the razor's edge between heroic vigilantes and shady un-sanctioned hit men-it would be so easy to tip the scales toward corruption again.
Oversight, of the kind Tony and Steve could agree on, was absolutely paramount. Now they just had to actually agree on something...
"Sir, I've got something on the west side," an agent's voice came through Coulson's com. "It's metal. Looks like part of the hull of a ship or something…"
They started toward him. Coulson responded, "Hold your position, Agent Joyner. We'll be there momentarily to check it out."
"Holy shit! It must be 6 feet long, but I think it's meant to be a sword. HEY-!"
Coulson and Steve stopped in their tracks, shared a look of exasperation, and then sprinted forward in unison. Joyner had been off fairly far from the epicenter, and the snow was so thick that they wouldn't be able to see him until they were within a few yards. A few other agents latched on behind them, sporting what looked like modified Chitauri energy weapons.
"Joyner, report!" Coulson tried into the com, but there was no response.
A human-shaped blot appeared from behind a craig, running straight at them. Everyone tensed and aimed their weapons, but it was just Joyner. He nearly fell into Coulson's arms.
"He's back there!" Joyner exclaimed, pointing behind him. "He took my com, my gun, and the sword!"
"Who is he?" Steve asked, but the man just shook his head.
"A new variable," Coulson commented. "Fantastic."
The shield was ice cold through Steve's gloves.
The wind died suddenly and the flurry of snowflakes cleared, revealing a hunched figure. He was watching them with bright blue eyes, a look of cold resignation on his face. His hair was blond where blood wasn't sticking to it, and his outfit was all black, with a large pauldron on one shoulder. Not overly alien, yet not something commonly worn on earth either. One hand was pressed against his abdomen, which was caked with a ridiculous amount of blood, and the other clutched the handle of the most unreasonably shaped 'sword' Steve had ever seen, the tip of which was still half-buried in the snow.
He didn't hurt Joyner, Steve reminded himself, just disarmed him. The man hadn't technically done anything wrong yet.
Coulson must have been thinking that, too, as he relaxed his whole posture.
"Hello," he called out amicably. "I'm Phil Coulson of SHIELD. Can you please identify yourself?"
The man said nothing. Steve noted how his shoulders were heaving and his lips were turning blue.
"Are you Asgardian? Xandarian? Sakaaran? What's your name?" Silence. "Do you speak English? Alien races around here tend to, for some reason, but I could get a translator… No? Listen, you'll die if you stay here. Put down the weapon and come back with us. We can get you warm clothes and medical treatment."
"I don't take offers from Turks," the man rasped in perfect English. The wheeze in his voice hinted at damaged lungs, maybe even a puncture.
"Oh? And what's a Turk?" Coulson responded conversationally.
Slowly, the tip of the sword rose from the snow until it pointed straight at Coulson. "Men in suits who take what they want and ask later."
"We're not that," Steve broke in, stepping protectively in front of Coulson. "We're not gonna take anything from you."
"No. You aren't."
One of the surrounding agents fired, and the man moved with inhuman speed to block the tranq with the broad side of the sword.
"Blizzaga!" he said, and the wind seemed to answer him, blowing around so much snow that the agents couldn't see where they were firing. Even Steve's serum-enhanced eyes lost track of the man. He fought the urge to dash forward in search of him, staying by Coulson's side instead as agents cried out and gabbered into their coms unintelligibly.
"He's fast!" one cried.
"My gun won't work!" another said. "It's frozen solid!"
Steve knew he'd come at them sooner or later, and he didn't have to wait long. The wounded man shot out of the snow flurry like he'd been launched from a cannon, giving Steve barely enough time to raise his shield. They clashed with a terrible sound and an impact that sent them both flying. The man screamed as he landed and his blood-slick hand lost its grip on the sword.
Steve scrambled to his feet and threw the shield 'frisbee-style' (as Tony liked to call it), colliding with the sword and sending it spiraling away on the ice. The man had climbed to his hands and knees, but before Steve could decide what to do next, Coulson fired a tranquilizer directly into his shoulder. He reached back and pulled it out, but Coulson put another one in his exposed neck, and-finally-he collapsed.
Coulson approached Steve, both of them panting with the adrenaline. Agents slowly worked their way back, and started recovering the bodies of those who were knocked unconscious.
"He reminds me of when Thor first came to Earth," Coulson mused. "Angry. Kind of lost. Stronger than he had any right to be. Fought like he'd rather die than lose to someone."
"I can respect that," Steve said, and he really did.
"Me too," Coulson agreed. "Let's hope Fury sees it the same way."
