The Nine Tailed Foxx
Chapter 8
((A/N: No, I haven't forgotten about my other stories. Just waiting on one muse to step back and let others have some time.
A wonderful thanks to my friend Lady Moonhawke, who is also my co-writer, co-conspirator, Idea tester, plot hole finder, monkey wrench thrower, and ghost editor.))
Welcome to the Menagerie
Same Day, Same general location, Several floors lower….
The Avengers Tower, formerly The Stark Tower, was 93 floors of technological wonder all thanks to Tony Stark. The top 12 floors were assigned to the Avengers. From living quarters to guest and visitor rooms. Advanced fitness/training center to medical, a private theater and media room, the kitchen and a common floor. One floor was dedicated to mission staging, high security storage and equally high security holding cells.
It was to this floor and the holding cells, that Johnny was taken. The holding cell itself was 8ft by 8ft. One one side was a cot with a shelf above it and a small light. On the opposite was a table/desk/bench combo and a another small storage shelf. At the back was a 4ft wall which gave a bare minimum of privacy for the sink/toilet combo and the shower. The entire cell was a single pre-fab unit, designed to prevent anyone from being able to turn anything into a weapon or other means of escape. The entire front section was a force field which could be set to any needed security strength, including sound proof in either direction.
At the moment, none of the cells were in use so Clint selected one at random. Swinging Johnny around to practically collapse on the bed, he backed out to keep an eye on him. "You know the drill don't you?" he asked.
"Da," Johnny answered.
Nat dropped a plastic bin onto the table/desk then backed out as well. The force field activated as soon as she was across the invisible threshold.
Inside the bin was a set of high quality bed sheets and pillow, two thick(fluffy), super absorbent towels, and a single piece coverall that was obviously created by a fashion designer. The material was breathable cotton, not tailor fitted but certainly not loose and baggy one size fits all typically found in most prison systems. Across the back was the Stark Industries Logo. Down both legs and arms was the SI name and on the left front was a barcode ID. Also included were a variety of toiletries from haircare to dental hygiene.
Pulling the coveralls out, Johnny held it up and looked it over. "Eşti serios? Ce designer de moda a fost angajat pentru acest lucru?"
"English Johnny," Clint said.
"Eu vorbesc engleza."
"FRIDAY, are you able to translate?" Nat asked.
"Not fully at this time Agent Romanoff. The best I can currently offer you is speculation using the closest linguistic equivalent. I shall also initiate a translation subroutine to build a more accurate linguistic dictionary." FRIDAY replied. " 'Are you serious? The designer of this clothing…(unknow) (unknown) money' was the first reply. The second is 'I (unknow) English'."
Clint shrugged, "No clue, doesn't sound anything close to anything I do know," he offered Nat. "You can understand us though, correct?" he asked Johnny.
"Da."
"But you can't reply back in English?"
Johnny dropped the coverall back into the bin then dropped back down on the bed. "Vorbesc engleză foarte bine." / " '(Unknown) English (unknow) fine' "
Dropping his head into his hands, Johnny gave a groan of frustration then shoved the hood back out of the way. Quickly covering his eyes with one hand he hissed. "Rahat ... prea luminos" / " 'excrement…. much light' " He found himself shoved sideways and back, a hand grasping his throat tightly as the electric whine reached his ears.
"Identify yourself," Natasha ordered, her other hand raised, ready to strike.
"Eu sunt! Eu sunt Johnny...eu sunt vulpe!"
Putting a staying hand on Nat's shoulder, Clint looked at Johnny over her shoulder. "What happened? You've changed…"
Johnny stared back in confusion.
"FRIDAY, bring up the cell's video footage. Real time," requested Clint. "Nat, let him up…"
The wall opposite the bed turned black before shifting to the current video feed. In essence, the wall became a mirror. Both Clint and Nat backed out of the cell once more as the force field reactivated.
Standing up, Johnny approached the wall. He went from stunned to shocked to angry. Turning away he paced the aisle between the bed and the table/desk, from the back wall to the force field and back. His expression shifted again to one of suspicion. With his back still to the front of the cell, he shed the coat, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Holding his hands out in front of him, palm up he stared before clasping them over his wrists, fingers moving as if tracing patterns. It didn't take him long before he was removing the rest of his cloths, uncaring that he was still being watched. In moments he was wearing only the pants and facing the wall. Turning one way then the other, he reached behind himself, fingers searching for something along his spine. Turning once more, he faced the wall and leaned close. Unlike a true mirror, this video feed did not do well in displaying what he was looking for.
Clinical in her own examination, Nat watched Johnny as he undressed. As tall as Steve, but more on the slender side. He had the muscle definition of a gymnast or dancer, long, lean and subtle. His skin was more milky white now, like fine alabaster. Not the pale pasty color of someone never seeing the sun, not the washed out colors of an albino. His skin looked as if some mad painter had splashed him with watered down paint. It decorated with the washed out purples and blues, sicky greens and yellows of healing bruises.
Clint let out a low whistle. "That's some interesting ink," he commented as he picked out motifs of blue foxes and sleek black cats hunting amongst moonflower vines entwined around Egyptian hieroglyphs and Japanese Kanji. The tattoos created cuffs around Johnny's wrists, a wide egyptian pharaoh style collar and trail down his spine. On his chest, over his heart was a single name and date on a ribbon, wrapped around a heart, no bigger than a half dollar.
"FRIDAY," Nat called softly. "Scan those tattoos. Full translation if possible. Add it to his file."
"As you wish Agent Romanoff."
This was about the time that Bruce entered the holding cell area. He joined the others standing outside of the force field. "So…"
Glancing to the side at Bruce, Nat shifted her weight. "How hard would it be to do a full workup?" she asked.
"Everything?" Bruce asked.
"Yes. I don't trust what's in those HYDRA files on him and everything SHIELD has on him is outdated by almost a decade."
"Presuming everything is ready to go, we don't run into any complications and he cooperates with us, two days.. maybe." Bruce speculated. "If you think he'll cooperate I can get started with the basics."
"He will," Nat assured him.
Bruce raised an eyebrow then glanced past her to Clint. He got a shrug in reply to his silent question. "Will you turn his updated file over to the Military?" it was a serious question and the answer would be the determining factor if he would do it, or if he would refuse.
Clint had turned so he could watch Johnny from the corner of his eye as he watched Nat and Bruce interact. He was also interested in her answer, but not for the same reasons as Bruce was. He registered movement so turned his head back to watch.
Events were finally catching up. The culmination of over five years of running, trying to stay a dozen steps in front of his personal demons, avoiding making any personal connections along the way, and never staying anywhere for too long. All it took to trip him up was a mother's plea to care for and protect her child. When it came to children, he could never say no, for his heart wouldn't allow it. Bracing his hands against the wall, he let his head drop before he shoved away. If he was going to be stuck here, there was little use in shitting in his own bed as the saying goes. Removing the items from the bin, he put them away. Taking his coat off the floor, he folded it up and placed it in the bin, the vest followed along with the boots. Instead of removing his pants though, he moved to the barrier and lifted a hand as if to tap it. He stopped though, frowning in thought as he spread his hand.
"You do know we can see you, correct?" Bruce asked. "That, dependent upon the setting, you can receive anywhere from a mild shock, similar to static shock, to a lethal dose when you touch the force field." He looked to the side at the display panel on the wall next to the cell. "It is currently set for light static shock. Please do not force us to increase the power level."
Johnny nodded, his expression shifting to one of neutrality.
Bruce nodded, turning away and heading towards the exit out of the holding cell area. "I'll be back in a few minutes with the supplies."
"I'll give you a hand," Nat said, joining Bruce in the hallway leading to the elevators.
Johnny turned his focus inward, following the chaotic dance that was his gift as it reach out and caress the force field and all that it was comprised of. He didn't expect to sense anything different, after all there was no moving parts in which the barrier was comprised of. He didn't expect to sense anything so when his gift touched the energy field, it was like stepping into a storm of fireflies. Alluring in their simplistic beauty yet dangerous in their ability to beguile and entrap the mind.
Clint stayed, watching Johnny behind the energy barrier. After several minutes, he stepped closer for a better look. Johnny hadn't moved except for his breathing. After ten minutes when Johnny still hadn't moved, he was tempted to have FRIDAY drop the force field, but knew better. "FRIDAY, status of Bruce and Nat?" he asked the tower's AI.
"I am unable to provide that information at this time Agent Barton."
Clint let out a snort of amusement. "I see. If you could, please request that Bruce's return be expedited."
"The request has been passed along."
"Thank you," Clint replied as he stepped closer to the force field. Shifting to the left then to the right, he watched as light shimmered across Johnny's eyes. He couldn't tell if it was a trick of the light, a reflection due to the force field or something else. Another five minutes had passed when he heard footsteps in the hallway. The footsteps didn't belong to Bruce and Nat was near silent most of the time. He didn't have his bow with him, but didn't mean he was unarmed. He moved to the side of the central area of the holding cells, where anyone entering wouldn't see him right until they were in that open area as well.
"Stand Down, Agent Barton."
"Director Fury, sir." Clint stepped into view, a hand within easy reach of one of his secondary weapons. "What brings you here?"
Fury didn't say anything as he crossed over to the occupied holding cell. "Hm, doesn't look like much. And it's just Fury now."
"Looks aren't everything."
"Damn right about that," he snapped back, turning to look at Clint with his one eye before smiling. "Doom, the UN and the bullshit that goes with them is the reason I'm here. Ms. Potts plans on questioning the validity of Doom's demands. I thought I'd come get a front row seat for the show." He jerked his thumb over a shoulder. "So what's the story? Rumor has it, you're talking about recruiting and sponsoring the boy. I didn't think you were looking for a protege just yet."
"No sir, not yet. If we can recruit him then yeah, I'd sponsor him Sir. But I wouldn't take him on. He's good but he doesn't have the heart for my line of work. He'd be better at the visible side of protection duty, especially if there's kids involved. A bit more training and he'd be a damned good infiltrator I bet. Even with that hair color of his," Clint answered, nodding to Johnny's white and electric blue hair.
"Weapons?"
Clint had to grin. "Would you believe he's pretty damned accurate with a wrist rocket?"
Fury arched an eyebrow. "A sling shot?"
"Yeah, a sling shot," Clint agreed. "Haven't seen what he can do with normal weapons. He seems to handle improvised weapons fairly well. Took down half a dozen men in 30 seconds with a pair of butterfly yo-yo's last month. I haven't gone through anything he may still have on him just yet. Still waiting on Nat and Bruce to return."
"Oh?" Fury queried. The way he said it and the tone of voice made it clear he wanted to know what was going on.
Before Clint could answer the door opened, admitting the very two people Clint had spoke of.
"Good evening Agent Romanoff, Dr. Banner."
"Director Fury?" Nat asked, a little surprised.
Bruce just nodded, skirting past the former SHIELD Director like a spooked animal. He got along fine with the man, as long as there was plenty of distance between them. He noticed that Johnny was still in the same position as when he left. "Has he moved at all?"
"No."
"Why didn't you alert me?" Bruce asked. He stepped up then remembered at the last moment to put on a pair of gloves to prevent skin to skin contact before keying the sequence to drop the force field.
Gone. The fireflies had all vanished, leaving him feeling empty as he dropped his hand and swayed. Someone caught him by the arm and guided him down on to his back on the cot. A bright light flashed across his eyes, blinding him and sending spikes into his brain. He closed his eyes with a pained whine and tried to pull away but he was held steady. Someone pried open his eyes, one then the other, as the light was shone into them again. First straight on then from the sides. When he tried to cover his face with a hand, it was grabbed and moved out of the way with a warning. He was finally allowed to cover his eyes with a hand a minute or two later. He let out huffed sigh of resignation as his right arm was stretched out and a tourniquet placed around his bicep.
"Make a fist…. hold…." The pinched sting of a needle sliding into flesh. "Good.. relax your fist…." The clinking of glass against plastic as vial after vial was filled.
"Well, one thing for certain," Fury stated, "Medical will have an easier time with him than they do with you." He spoke as if the recruitment was a done deal and only the paperwork needed to be signed and filed. "Time to go claim that front row seat for the Pepper Potts vs Doom, the UN & all that bullshit." He turned and left the holding cell area.
Nat snorted as she pulled Johnny upright and shoved a glass of premium quality, fresh squeezed orange juice under his nose with the implied instructions of 'drink or else'.
When he had finished with the orange juice, two sample containers were shoved into his hand. Looking at both, he raised an eyebrow as if to say 'really?'. He got the look back that said 'yes, really. Now.' He rolled his eyes as he tossed one back with a shake of his head, miming a pair of scissors snipping. Both eyebrows raised in his direction, 'really?', he nodded with his head tilted to one side, lips pressed together, tilted up at one corner. 'Yes, really.' Instead a swab was held up in front of his face. With reluctant obedience he opened his mouth. He was then pointed in the direction of the toilet and shower. With a roll of the eyes, he stood up and headed in the direction pointed. Stripping out of his pants, he tossed them into the bin before turning on the water.
"Wow, I haven't seen anyone pick up the 'conversation without words' that fast in a long time," Clint commented as he grabbed the bin to be processed, exiting the cell. "See you two at dinner tonight. It's Tony's turn so expect takeout."
Five minutes later, Nat was handing Bruce a sealed bag containing the specimen requested as the sound of the shower filled the cell.
Taking the bag and putting it with the rest, Bruce sent a quick glance in the direction Clint had gone before giving Nat a quick peck on the cheek then leaving.
Settling on the bed with her legs crossed, she made minute adjustments to her bracers as she waited. It wasn't much of a wait. Instead of sitting on the cot next to her, Johnny instead took the bench seat across from her. "This is how it will be for now. You are under 24/7 surveillance. As long as you are well behaved and respectful to us, we will be respectful to you. I'm fairly certain you want to know what Doom has planned as much as we do. Cooperate and you will be kept abreast of the situation as long as it does not jeopardize anyone here in the tower or any agent that may or may not be in the field. If you are hungry, thirsty, need anything that is within reason. Ask out loud. It may take a few minutes for your request to be answered though. At this time, I see no reason to deny you access to simple entertainment. Cause problems and you lose those privileges. Understand?"
Johnny nodded, "Da."
"Good," Nat said as she stood and exited the cell. Once she was across the threshold, the force field reactivated.
Johnny didn't bother to move from where he was seated. "Hello?"
"How may I be of assistance?" FRIDAY responded making a note in his file that he was speaking English as oppose to the previous language. The AI also noted the distance from the occupied cell to the elevator.
"I'd like to make a request for dinner please. And what is there in the way of entertainment?"
"If you would direct your attention to the screen."
Doing so, Johnny found the wall was now screen with a list of menus. Selecting the one labeled 'meals', he browsed the list and made his selection. A small timer appeared in the upper right corner. He then went to the menu labeled 'entertainment' and found a variety of choices. From music to movies to games to books. Selecting a simple game, he waited for his dinner to arrive.