Author's Notes: So, it's the last day of my mini vacation *sobs* but here's a new chapter. :)
spiez666: Thanks. Kai is actually a favorite of mine. XD
Disclaimer: Ultimate Spider-Man is not mine. Nor are any of its characters. That's Marvel's job. Any Original Characters and art you note, however, are all me. No. I'm not making money. Don't rub it in.
Chapter 10 - Brother
Great. It blew up. Again! How many times did that make? Zeelan had lost count after a hundred. Frowning, the teen blew a long, noisy breath. But it was useless; the wild locks of hair fell back into her narrowed eyes and the force-field between her cupped hands wouldn't remain solid.
"Come on, Z," she told herself lowly.
The bubble flickered from its semi-transparent lavender to a deep purple back to lavender. Then it popped. The resulting wind upturned Zeelan's hair every which way until the small burst dissipated and the mutant was left with only a prickle in her eyes.
Dammit. With Fury's humming siphon around her, she couldn't even form a small bubble. Not that she could do much more than that to begin with. On purpose, anyways. That point aside, never would she have thought she would feel so vulnerable with restricted powers. Yet here she was—dressed in loose prison garb while curled into the cell's cold corner because she didn't trust her back towards the glass wall. And knowing she couldn't defend herself left her wishing for her brother.
'Kevin…I wonder how he's doing,' she thought, wrapping her arms around her aching stomach. 'The note was a goose-chase. I hate to have tricked him, but I wanted a few days with the team before…' The mutant sighed. 'Guess that doesn't matter anymore. He'll soon realize it was fake, and what do I have to show for it? Prison. Ugh! This is what I get for thinking positively. I've gone seventeen years expecting the worst and never being disappointed. Why on God's good earth did I expect this to turn out well?'
Daniel Rand.
His name stuck to Zeelan's brain like dried cement at the base of her memory. The blonde hero had been so convincing in their talks, so honest. The moment she first met him, his aura alone reawakened the—dare she say it?—hope she had buried long ago. It felt unnatural since she had grown used to expecting the worst of all things.
Yet that soothing mix of earthy browns and greens with a subtle yet rich blue left her feeling light, unlike anything before. She couldn't describe why it attracted her so. It just…did. It gave a sense of security to trust in what she normally wouldn't. And falling for such a seductive aura had been what landed her in SHIELD's hands.
'He didn't mean it, though,' she told herself on several occasions. 'The surge of black that cut through him at La Château must've stemmed from genuine surprise and frustration. Fury hadn't been part of the plan.'
Knowing that didn't help her sleep. Or keep her from dreading the day Fury did find Kevin and the others. She doubted she could face them—any of them. But especially Kevin. How does one face their brother after tricking him into believing you had led SHIELD off the group's tail so they can escape the state and The Trackers?
Easy. You don't.
Click, click. Hiss. Creak. Cut from her thoughts, Zeelan's heavy eyes lifted to the clouded glass ahead. Her ear—flush against the wall at her side—picked up movement from the visiting room's door, and by the time she straightened, ready for Daniel's greeting, the dark coat on the glass wall quickly dissolved. To a sight she would have loved to run from.
"Wh—what's going on?" the mutant questioned in a small voice. The energy to yell had left her days ago, leaving her capable of only a wounded glare that she directed at Daniel—or, should she say, Iron Fist.
"This isn't what you think," Iron Fist responded. His boots echoed soft taps as he stepped forward in his green and yellow glory. Then he glanced at Fury beside him. "We—"
"Your brother has Nova," interjected the Director sorely.
"…What?"
"Tell us where to find him!"
Was it just her, or did Fury look ready to pop? The mutant remained silent where she sat. Her gaze met Fury's glare evenly. And after a few short moments, the Director banged a palm against the glass with such power that Iron Fist side-stepped away and Zeelan's stomach flipped.
"I've had enough troubles with you and your family, Weir,"—the man hissed through gritted teeth—"You tell me where the hell your brother took my agent. Now. Or you'll find there are a lot of painful ways to survive solitary."
No. Zeelan didn't trust his threat. She never trusted anything he said—not even when she was younger and couldn't see his murky aura of mixed intents.
"Fury," Iron Fist started, calm, as he approached his boss. He mumbled something further that Zeelan couldn't understand, but the disgruntled African-American let his hand fall then allowed Iron Fist ahead of him.
"One chance, Rand." The director's cold voice actually caused Zeelan to shiver. Her eyes met his one last time before the man whirled then headed for the door. His exit was quick, and Zeelan was convinced if the door could slam, it would have done so. Twice.
"What's going on?" she directed towards the solemn Iron Fist. "What's this with Nova? And…why are you here about it?" He knew what she had meant; his subtle flinch said so.
"Fury knows," the blonde answered simply.
"What?"
"Please, do not panic yet."
Zeelan's mild glare returned. "Don't panic? You said—"
"I said I would help. And I will. So please listen to me."
There it was again, that honest aura. It surrounded Iron Fist's buff figure in a hazy halo similar to the aurora borealis. Though the normally-rich blue within its medley of browns and greens fluctuated like she had never seen before. What did that mean?
"The false ID was never meant for long-term use," he said. The blue dimmed then returned. "Of course it would be brought to Fury's attention. We just hoped it wouldn't have been so soon."
"What's he going to do with me now that he knows?" Zeelan's words trembled without consent, like her hands. "And what about you?"
"Believe it or not, when he talked to me about it several hours ago, he was surprisingly accepting. It seemed between Spider-Man and I, we had finally convinced Fury to listen to your account of Illinois."
A sudden, deep pang ran through the mutant's chest. "O—oh?"
"Yes, but he won't listen now. Not unless you prove yourself. He says if you have nothing to hide, if you're innocent, you'll trust us. Help us. I don't exactly agree, but if you have any hunches about where your brother might be—"
"Even if I did know, I wouldn't hand my family over to SHIELD on a silver platter," the mutant spat under her breath.
"And I feel likewise," the hero countered. His brown aura began to fade now, replaced by a red-orange glow that emphasized his deep frown. "Last night, Spider-Man and Nova were on a mission to guard a blood bank. They were assaulted by your brother and a bird-like mutant."
"Kai."
Iron Fist nodded. "He believes you were taken in your quest to throw off us and The Trackers."
"And"—Zeelan paused stiffly—"what did they tell them?"
"Nothing."
Simple, yet not at all what she was expecting. The young woman stared ahead, blank. They didn't inform K that she lied? They didn't hold her for ransom? Or throw her under the bus? Why not?
"Spider-Man sent a distress signal soon after calling for backup," continued Iron Fist. "When I arrived with White Tiger and Power Man, we found him unconscious. He woke up not long ago and informed us that the duo had teleported away with Nova, demanding you in his place."
"And Fury wants me to concede instead of him complying."
"He's calling your brother a SHIELD terrorist."
"My brother is no terrorist!" A sudden, large bubble grew beside Zeelan then popped loudly like a tire on the interstate. "SHEILD is the terrorist! They want to tag and catalogue mutants like cattle, then call on them when their powers are needed."
"Remember, focus is best achieved through cleansing breaths," the hero remarked, smooth. His soft expression may have brought heat to her blood, but the young woman managed a few, half-hearted breaths that eased new bubbles into submission. "SHIELD's intent is well-meaning, even when their methods are questionable. I admit that. However, Fury makes a point. If you have a chance to prove your sincerity, you should."
"You say that because you're with SHIELD," Zeelan grumbled.
"I am saying that because a member of my family was kidnapped!"
Suddenly, the aura's blue began flickering, expanding then shrinking all while tainted by black. Fear. It had to be fear. Maybe dread. Or distress. Either way, the activity worsened, even when the blonde reigned in his glare.
"I'm sorry about Nova," Zeelan said after pushing herself away from the cell's corner. "Really, I am. But I—I can't…I can't do that to them."
"And Nova?" Iron Fist countered in a heavy tone.
"Listen. Whatever Fury thinks, he's wrong. My brother won't hurt him, Da—Iron Fist. He's a protector."
"A protector of his kind. Like Magneto. He scolded you for saving two lives already because you exposed yourself. And ignored a diplomatic way to approach us. Who's to say what he will do to a SHIELD hostage?"
"Nothing. He'll do nothing."
"I have an injured friend in critical who would say otherwise."
"That's the most he'll do!" Rising like her voice, the mutant stumbled forward until she reached the glass wall. There, her weak form sunk to the cold floor, stinging eyes set on Iron Fist's stern gaze above. "I know Fury wants you to convince me of giving in," she croaked weakly. "But you must understand. He's played a big part in how K's been acting. I can't trust him."
"Then who will you trust? Yourself?" Iron Fist also sunk to the ground, only with far more grace than Zeelan. When he sat cross-legged, removing his yellow bandana-mask, he regarded the mutant with penetrative green eyes. "I'm afraid neither of us are in a good position, Zeelan. Yet you trust that I wish to help you…right?"
Slowly, Zeelan's head nodded.
"What did we speak about two nights ago?"
The mutant blinked. "Uh…so—something about strength in belief?" Really, the memories were foggy from insomnia and hunger, but the blonde confirmed her answer with a curt nod.
"Believing is an essential part to persevering, overcoming, and even achieving personal goals. One can gain such strength both from within and from others. A mix of the two is the most potent, like the nectar of a rare Yu Shi flower."
"Yu Shi flower?"
"It is a flower that grows on the banks of select streams in K'un-Lun, my home. Used for medicine, it is highly coveted yet also sacred and delicate. I've only tasted it once in my life, when a great sickness nearly killed me."
"I—It's healing factor is that strong?"
Slowly, a light smile lifted the corners of Iron Fist's lips. "The flower does not heal the body. It heals the mind, strengthens your psyche."
"You don't mean to tell me you healed yourself just by—" The ridiculous word wouldn't pass her chapped lips. "That's impossible."
"Nothing's impossible," retorted the blonde. He actually sounded amused, if somewhat solemn. "Expand your mind then you would come to realize this truth as well. After all, you can create Psionic force-fields, see auras. There are those out there who would deem that impossible."
"Th—that's—"
"No different. Magic, demons, aliens, the undead, other worlds—they all coexist with science. And with a power like yours, you are bound to witness such first-hand."
"Witness the undead? I'd rather not." Though she meant that seriously, Zeelan joined Iron Fist in his chuckle until reality set in again. Then, she frowned at the weight on her chest. "Maybe belief works for you, Iron Fist, but I grew up in a—belief got me nowhere, simple as that. I had one constant rock in those times and it was my brother. My protector. He's taken scars for me and others, which means I know he won't hurt Nova. Not in the way Fury assumes."
Iron Fist stared. It was a rather unnerving action; given that it made Zeelan feel like a grade-school kid that was being studied by a too-familiar principle. Reluctantly, she searched the hero's aura for a clue to his intents. The blue in it had cleared, steadied. Within it, a trace of yellow flickered only for a moment before the blue overpowered it completely. Alright. What did yellow mean?
"If that is what you believe then I will believe it as well," said Iron Fist in a respect that brought the mutant's attention back to him.
"Really?" she asked breathlessly.
"Sometimes, for one to believe, they must first be believed in."
"You're trying to say something about me, aren't you?"
He smiled. "We need one another's help to keep our families safe. So, I ask that you don't think of me as SHIELD, but as Daniel Rand, Iron Fist. Someone who is willing to help you regain your freedom." The hero's head bowed, arms raised like some warrior in a foreign film, and Zeelan could only stare in amazement. That is, until his green eyes met hers again.
"U—uh, yes," she sputtered through shaky lips, "and I appreciate that."
"We can find a way that both sides win; I'm sure of it," he added.
"I…I would like that very much, Iron Fist," Zeelan replied, soft.
"Please, call me Danny."
Ugh. Why did her stomach lurch at his responding grin? And the slight cock of his head? Was she blushing? She was, wasn't she? Dammit. Screwing her eyes shut, the mutant shook her head until white blotted her vision. Afterwards, she focused purely on returning his grin without looking too awkward.
"Okay, Danny"—his name sounded rigid on her tongue—"you can call me Z."
"It would be my pleasure…Z."
Trickster's world was upside-down. Yes, he meant that as a literal fact. His long legs bent around a high, rusty rafter that probably wasn't meant to be climbed and watched the two sibling's below like a nerdy kid with an ant farm. If he had popcorn, he sure as hell would've already popped it over Smokescreen's hothead and munched on it as Six Arms' yells threatened the integrity of the warehouse they had chosen as cover from a heavy storm. Outside, the wind whipped, thunder boomed, and rain pelted against the tin roof and broken windows. Inside...
"You're always blaming me!" Six Arms cried with a sneer.
Smokescreen mirrored his expression, save with more pleasant features. "All you had to do was just walk away. That's all you ever have to do. But it's just too much for you, isn't it?"
"It isn't my fault this city's filled with idiots!"
"Is that supposed to be self-justification? Because it sounds lame."
"Why can't you just drop things then? It was only a little fight."
"Why?" Even from his height, Trickster could feel the heat of Smokescreen's rage. "I'll tell you why, Flint. Because you keep jeopardizing our mission everywhere we go! You know what'll happen to her if he has to be sent instead. Don't you care?"
Ah, him. Trickster was one with a high tolerance for many folks. 'He' was not one of them.
Six Arms stepped back at the mere mention of their employer's favored Tracker then grew stern, as if his own actions had offended him. "Of course I care, Ash. I'm just…growing tired of this shit."
"Me too," the young woman countered. "But since we have no choice, we have to step things up. We can't keep losing Weir's group."
"And what about SHIELD's team? Spider-Man's group."
"Oh, I quite like them," Trickster finally added. His snigger echoed, though neither Caulfield graced him with a look. What jerks!
"We did it your way once," Smokescreen said darkly. "And it failed. We need to save time. But if meet them again…I have a means to keep them out of our way."
"Oh?"
Boy, did Trickster love the grim smirk that worked its way across the young woman's pale face. "Yeah, I've gotten a little…present."
Author's Notes: And the tension mounts. Dun dun dun. Reviews are loved - critique or praise! Thanks for reading. :D
Next time, "Wake-Up", we get an update on Sam and another Z and Danny talk. Stay tuned!