Author's Notes: The reviews are loved. THANKS, GUYS! Yes. Strange is fun. Just wait, heh.
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 18 -Release

Luke strained his muscles against an invading purple force-field. The teen never would have pegged it to be so sturdy. After all, every other one that came before it had either flickered out of existence or burst into pressure. Not this one. Its Adamantium-strength pushed him backwards in his attempt to stop it Even when he dug the tips of his uniform's boots into the Tricarrier's steel floor, he only dented the surface and continued sliding.

"Stop, Z!" he cried beyond the bubble.

"Let me go, Power Man!" demanded Zeelan, Midwestern voice muffled within the shield. Her dark eyes shifted his way then returned to the hall they stood in. Or, more particularly, the office door yards behind Luke.

"I know you've got a few words you want to share with Fury—"

"I've got more than a few!"

"Will you listen to me?" The boots slipped again, but Luke straightened his back and glared down at Zeelan, who met his hands with her own. "I know your brother's announcement has upset you. If you do something stupid, though, you'll wind up back in solitary!"

A pulse of purple light coursed through the force-field. It was obvious the mutant's unfocused eyes barely noticed it, and when her wild, white hair stood up at its power, she shoved harder.

"Please, I don't want to have to hurt you!" the hero growled. His arms met the bubble's power evenly, prepared to toss it aside if necessary.

"I'd listen to Power Man, Miss Weir," Fury's authoritative voice stated. He didn't exit his office as expected. But rather, he rounded the bend Z had passed moments ago and lifted his strong chin when the mutant whirled his way. "You have another mission to complete."

"I am not one of your agents!" she countered with a sudden wave of her arm. A small force-field—roughly the size of a beach ball—formed.

Luke's attention followed the object when it slammed into the corridor's wall with a metallic clap. It sunk deeply before fading, and he remained quiet as Fury responded.

"But you care about Rand, don't you?"

Z paused, stepping back, before countering in high disdain, "Don't manipulate the point, Fury! I know what you're going to do. And I won't let it happen!"

"What are you going to do, hm? Destroy the place with your tantrum like some toddler? Because that's all you'll achieve in addition to a nice time out."

"Threaten solitary all you want"—the mutant stalked forward, which freed Luke of his hold on her shield—"I won't let you use deadly force on my brother!"

"He's practically promised to kill an agent—my agent," the man retorted sharply.

"You think that's on him?"

"I think it's entirely on him."

"Yet the only reason Nova was taken was because you took me! He's been pushed too far already—many times by you!" The last word was hissed—a clear indication of how much loathing Z harbored, not just for the SHIELD organization, but for Fury himself. "I heard the message. He's at his wits' end. He isn't acting rationally anymore, and it's your fault!"

Fury met the mutant's accusing finger with an even stare. "Must you Weir siblings blame me for every slight in your lives?"

Zeelan's force-field pulsed a second time, brightening. "You have been the slight in our lives! How long did you think my brother could hold out before he broke, huh? He's strong, but there's been too much shit piled on his shoulders for him to maintain any sense of self!"

"Then he should've been more aware of this and had the forethought to release Nova."

"You should have just traded me!"

"You were guilty then."

"Well you know the truth now!"

"It's still being reviewed."

Luke felt Zeelan's twitch—clearly. It echoed through her force-field and he dared touched it with his impervious skin. The purple bubble crackled under his hands, only he didn't feel a warmth or sting. If that's what it was supposed to feel like.

"Zeelan," he said under his breath. "Let me talk to him. It's why I came here while White Tiger and Spider-Man looked for your brother."

Her power quivered with more pulses. But, as her shoulders stooped and the heavy air around her lifted, the force-field paled to lavender then faded without incident. She swayed as if on a ship, stumbling towards the wall for support when her knees gave out. Luke aided her in finding a seat on the ground and gave an encouraging nod, though her vision was set elsewhere.

"You let this little girl run around my ship like this?" Fury questioned.

The muscular teen drew his head up—intent on replying—except he found the question had been directed towards a tall, dark-haired man dressed in a flamboyant red cape. Doctor Strange. Luke recognized the outfit from SHIELD files and vaguely remembered Fury had called him that morning.

The sorcerer regarded the Director calmly, saying, "This was a perfect exercise of her abilities. She immersed herself in her hate of you, yet very little of her force-fields backfired—unlike in her dream."

"So you treated this as a test. Please tell you would've stopped her if she began ripping my ship apart in her immersing."

The Doctor didn't answer.

"Sir," Luke interjected. His harsh steps earned both men's attention. "You said Z would be aiding Doctor Strange, right?"

"Yes," answered Fury slowly. "She's supposed to have already started her lessons, but it seems she would rather—"

"She's supposed to help save Danny." The words felt heavy on the hero's lips and even heavier in his heart. Yet he stood certain, gaze cool behind his sunglasses.

"Your point, Power Man."

"My point is keeping Z here only endangers Nova more. He's a punk, but he deserves more consideration that that. Even if we must give into—"

"We don't have to give into anything." With dark a frown, the Director took careful steps forward. "Miss Weir will remain on house arrest until the report is processed. She will help Iron Fist while we will get Nova back and bring in Mister Weir for all the trouble he's caused. Am I clear?"

Luke didn't like it, but he held more respect than to argue upfront. He bit his tongue under the Director's glare and nodded definitively enough that Fury faced Doctor Strange without suspicion. When the teen backtracked and kneeled to help Zeelan from the floor, though, he spoke in a low voice to her.

"Don't lose yourself yet, Z. Please. We really need your help with Danny. Let me and others take care of your brother. We'll get this figured out. Okay?"

She didn't nod. Nor did she shake her head. The mutant's dark eyes remained on Fury as the Director spoke with Doctor Strange and once she stood on two feet again, she sighed deeply, gripping onto Luke's forearms.

"Miss Weir." Luke and Zeelan faced Fury. "You're to follow Doctor Strange to a special meditation room. There, you'll—"

Beep! Beep! Luke's wrist watch sprang to life with a series of alerts that silenced the corridor. He quickly accepted the call without sharing a look with Fury or Zeelan then held the device close for a better view of its screen.

"Ugh, Power Man"—Spider-Man spoke with breathless urgency—"Is Fury there?"

"I am," the Director answered from a distance.

The team leader cracked his neck, hissing, and Luke couldn't tell where he called from. "Good; uh, we have trouble."

"Don't we always," Luke remarked with a frown.

"Yeah, well. This isn't a 'Batroc got in the way' or 'Whirlwind's on a spree' kind of trouble."

Fury lightly huffed, walking closer. "Then what kind is it, Spider-Man? I would like to know what you and White Tiger are doing, as opposed to reporting to the Tricarrier like you were instructed."

"We, uh, were just taking the scenic route." An obvious lie.

"Tell me what you ran into," demanded Fury with a grimace.

"A new mutant."

"Another one?"

"Afraid so. And he's…worse than the others."

"How can he be worse than The Trackers?" Luke questioned before he could stop himself. There was a pause on Spider-Man's end while he coughed hard against the dark background around him.

"It all happened too fast for me to process," the lithe hero answered. "But he told us we could ask Fury about it. He calls himself…Ghost."

The Director promptly cursed.

Eight days. Had he really been stuck in this hell hole for that long?

It was hard to believe when he thought about it. And, generally, Sam hated thinking about things. It always caused such a bother—especially when personal reflections were involved. He was used to keeping himself busy because of it. So unless the occasion really called for it, he tended to pass on his instincts.

There was no doing such here, unfortunately.

Instincts had only worsened the situation. By now his fractured wrist throbbed with a daily pain that led to headaches and nausea. The pressure of his hanging weight didn't help. Neither did the low circulation in the upper half of his body. The blood had all long-since pooled into his feet, which looked swollen and red like a clown's shoes.

Sam hated clowns. And he noticed with dread that his will to fight had been slipping since the start. He didn't want it to. But it did. Like a trance, his new reality would set in; until a snap within his mind woke him—bringing back the fire in his soul that screamed "I am Nova!" Then the process repeated.

'How much longer are the others going to take?' Sam thought while cringing at a sharp pain in his puffy arms. 'I swear, when Parker gets here, I'll give him a piece of my mind! Letting me get kidnapped. What the hell kind of a leader is he? Seriously…'

They would come, though. They had to…right? Fury hadn't conceded to the trade, yet that was expected. It didn't mean SHIELD wasn't planning a rescue. He was Nova—the Nova—a valued member of the team. Fury wouldn't let him get wasted just so they can keep one mutant they could re-capture later. Right?

Right. Maybe SHIELD was waiting for the right time to strike? Sounded like Fury. Though waiting this long made little sense. Hello! He'd been chained to a butcher ceiling for over a week! It was humid, smelly with the scent of dried blood—his blood. He was tired, weak, hungry, and thirsty and still he hadn't said one useful thing to Kevin—despite the temptation whenever the mutant's electric current fried him from the inside out.

So how come he hadn't been extracted yet?

'Stop thinking about them!' The Hispanic shook his head slowly because fast would have sent his world spinning. 'Focus on yourself. If they haven't come yet, then you gotta get yourself out. No biggie; Rocket taught you to be resourceful. You just need— '

"Sam?" a voice whispered.

Sam opened the eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed. "Thera?"

"Oh, good, you're awake."

"And if I had been asleep?"

"I might've had to do something unsavory."

"Oh?" A small smirk quirked up Sam's lips. "Like what?"

"Will you stop teasing and pay attention?"

"Why are you whispering so much?"

"Because I—I'm not supposed to be here." Thera pushed her hood back, revealing a great amount of worry on her scaled-face.

"What's new?" Sam asked, noting a weird ripple though the auburn specs. "Is there something I should know about?"

The redhead bit her lip.

"Thera."

"K's threatening to kill you."

Wait…what?

Thera drew a shaky breath, wringing her clothed-hands. "The others and I overheard him talking to Kai," she continued to whisper. "He isn't—He told Fury he would, but I—I thought it was just a bluff. I thought…he was just doing it for desperate show. But he's…preparing himself. He isn't listening to Kai anymore. I—I really think he's gunna…"

The words fell silent, yet rung loud in Sam's ears. He felt numb as he stared at Thera's wide orange eyes. The fear in them could be sympathized with; it was the same fear tingling through him, giving rise to a new kind of pain and panic. He broke from the shock when Thera stepped forward and glanced over his chains.

"Ar—are you sure?" he managed in deep breathes.

"I don't want to be," she replied miserably with a rise in her accent. "But he isn't acting like normal…"

"Now, Thera"—it was difficult to keep his playful tone even—"we've had our differences in the past, but I know you had better be here to get me the hell out!" At the end, where Sam's tone rose with fright, Thera flinched.

"I'm too short to reach the chains," she noted with a frown and a quiver.

"Then go get my helmet. I can release myself then."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

The mutant's scales shivered again as she took a step back, eyes glued on the long length of chain that kept Sam's body to the ceiling. "K keeps it with him," she answered, strained. "There's no way I can get it without him knowing. Since he plans to be here soon, I figured I shouldn't take that risk."

"Wait, he's coming now?" Thera nodded quickly at Sam's cry—an action which dug into his gut. "I am too young and pretty to be executed! Find a chair or climb me. I don't give a shit. Just get me out!"

"Don't yell; it's not helping!" retorted the redhead with scratchy words. She glared at him, though it felt hollow with the amount of dread shaking her slender body. "You may be SHIELD, but I—I don't want you dead. I feel like we could be friends, so…I'll find a way."

Um? Did she say friends? Sam stared at Thera strangely as she cursed under her breath and then took his advice. She approached on silent feet, glanced up at his raised brow, and then jumped as high as she could before starting to climb him like a monkey. Unimaginable pain shot through his wrist in spite of how light the mutant felt. It whitened his vision, but instead of focusing on it, he craned his neck towards Thera, who sat on the back of his shoulders as if they were playing a game of Shoulder Wars.

"A—are you a psychopath?" he questioned. "I've been locked in your basement with no food for a week. Your so-called leader has tormented the hell out of me on a daily basis. You show up on occasion to poison me. And you think we can be friends?" There was a pregnant pause as Thera's thighs twitched against Sam's neck.

Then, the mutant responded in a thick tone, saying, "Oh, if I were psychotic, I would be in the corner, waiting for K to do whatever. I've done what I can for you, Sam, given the situation. I tried as long as I could, but K found out anyway. Guess that doesn't matter anymore…Besides, the poison was only once. And an accident!"

"You still did it."

"So? You forgot to add I got you food, water, and cleaned your wounds so they wouldn't get infected!"

"Yet you still didn't release me. What progress have you made?"

"None; he's soldered these chains together."

"Are you serious? Don't you have some super fish strength or something?" Sam suddenly gagged as Thera's thighs squeezed his throat, pushing the coarse fabric of her jeans against his neck wounds.

"I said no fish jabs!"

"Not—a—joke," the Hispanic managed in between shallow breaths.

The hold loosened and as Sam recovered with coughs, Thera said, "My skills lie with being in water. This isn't my element."

"So what do we do?"

"Maybe I could—"

Thera's reply escalated into a startled scream. A loud boom sounded, like the blowing of a transformer right beside Sam's ear. Instantly, the meat room shook with a great force that rattled the hooks and chains attached to the ceiling. An invisible blast blew Sam's form almost sideways with its power, and he felt Thera slip from her perch before a loud ringing set in. His body swayed in circles from the chain. When he turned one way, he caught sight of Thera lying against the floor. He had to wait to twist again before he noticed the rubble. And the fresh blood.

With unfocused eyes, he strained for details through the new hole in the wall ahead. It glowed brightly from behind, with a brilliance of white lights. Sam's first thoughts were of his team. Maybe Power Man had punched his way through. Or maybe it was Iron Fist making a move. Or even a SHIELD foot solder. Maybe he was being rescued after all!

He smiled lightly as hazy shapes approached. However, it fell with his expectations when he realized…they weren't rushing towards him. They were walking. Calmly. With each step taken, they grew clearer and clearer, until Sam's face completely drained of color.

Author's Notes: Sam can't catch a break. Well. A good one. Actually, none of them can. And it's not done getting worse. HA! REVIEWS, FOLKS!