"All personnel: the evacuation order has been confirmed. Proceed to your designated vehicles for off-site conveyance. This is not a drill."
A tremor shook the compound. Dozens of workers rushed around, loading equipment and hurriedly making preparations to flee. The smell of exhaust of a dozen trucks of all types filled the air.
"Martinez, get moving!" A supervisor standing on the loading dock shouted at one of the trucks. "You're nearly full and we need the loading dock clear for the next truck."
"Can't yet, ma'am. There's a problem with the battery backup - if we move now, who knows what this thing will do." Martinez replied, pushing his glasses higher onto his nose with greasy fingers. His wiped his hands on his stained jacket before continuing to fumble with wires at the base of a large metal capsule.
"Move. NOW. We just got word that we have to load every Phase Two device in addition to all of the volatile pieces like yours. Finish your hookup en route."
Martinez swore under his breath, unplugged a pair of cables and tossed them to the loading dock. Hammering his hand on the side of the truck, he growled and shouted to the driver, "Let's go Smith!" he shouted. And, after a moment added, "Hit the radio, would you?" He grabbed the pull on the end of the sliding truck door and slammed it shut as Smith threw it in gear. It was nearly pitch black in the back, with only small dingy workman's bulb lighting the darkness.
The truck rolled out from the dock and into the tunnel leaving the facility. Martinez sat on the metal floor, bracing his feet against the capsule and his back against the wall of the truck as they took the corner to leave the loading area. An ominous blinking red light indicating battery failure stared at him from the base of the metal capsule.
He stared at the metal box, the 'volatile' piece of equipment they were carrying. "They didn't tell me what you were. Figures, huh?" The radio in the cab of the truck started playing. Country music, from the sounds of things, although it was difficult to hear over the rattling of the truck and the screech of the tires.
"You can't be too dangerous, right?" Martinez tapped lightly on the side of the capsule. "You're only… big enough to be a nuclear warhead, marked as highly volatile, and stored in a top secret S.H.I.E.L.D. lab devoted to obscure energy research." He swallowed, while glancing down at the red light again. "With a failing backup battery."
He dug through the duffel bag of cables that sat beside him. "Well, if all else fails, we can pull over and wire you up to the truck battery, which ought to last a little while until we can get help."
A few minutes passed as Martinez arranged a few items from the duffel bag on the floor around him and unscrewed the outer casing on the plate at the base of the capsule. The sound of a distant explosion interrupted his work. He rifled through the same duffel bag for an earpiece and flicked the switch, "Hell's Bells, Smith. What was that?" The music on the radio was silenced.
A crackling voice responded, "Presumably the cause for the evacuation. Hope everyone got out okay. It's not looking pretty back there."
"I hope so, too. Hey, how far to the rendezvous?"
"No rendezvous yet, Lou. Only word so far is to get as far away as possible and await pickup. That, and something about a Code 619. A compromised agent, right? Think the explosion was an inside job?
"No idea." Martinez continued to loosen screws, desperately not thinking about what might happen if the power failed completely. "What's the plan, then? Drive until they tell us to stop? And... can you down the AC? I'm getting cold back here."
"If we haven't heard anything by dawn, we head to the Stanley base, but it's not cleared or designed for highly volatile Project Pegasus stuff. How's the battery coming?"
"Not well." Prying open the case of the battery pack attached to the capsule, Martinez sighed. "I need to dig out a spare - one of the cells ruptured."
"Have fun with that. We picked up an escort, by the way - so if you need a hand with something we can pull over and see what we can do."
A muffled click and the faint sound of the radio resumed. Martinez hummed along tunelessly as a new song started, digging through a stack of boxes marked Electrical Miscellany. His back to the capsule, he did not further notice the falling temperature or the frost building up on the outside of the metal capsule. The truck suddenly swerved; the box was thrown to the floor, and it's contents scattered.
"What the hell, Smith? Falling asleep at the wheel?"
"Nah - can't see it very well, but it feels like we're hydroplaning on something. It hasn't rained, though, and we're pretty damn heavy right now - not sure what just.." The truck swerved again. More boxes shifted from the sudden movement.
"Not funny, Smith. Not sure what we're hauling but highly volatile is pretty damn explicit." He could hear Smith starting to slow the truck down.
"Not a joke. I swear it's like the wheels are slipping on something. If it wasn't April I'd swear that was a patch of ice."
"Ice? Smith what in the name of…" Martinez trailed off; his breath was visible. He belatedly noticed how cold the air had grown around him. He slowly turned back to the capsule, which was visibly straining at its rivets.
Smith's deceleration was too late. The truck went into a prolonged skid and Martinez was thrown to the floor. He glanced back sharply at the capsule as the first rivet popped, and threw his arms over his head and neck as the capsule burst, sending shrapnel and shards of ice in every direction.
The two agents in the escort car pulled over at the first signs of ice, and could only watch on helplessly as the truck lost control. The back of the truck violently exploded outwards, and the truck, already sideways from the prolonged skid, rolled over twice before lurching to a stop on its side. A man and a woman, dressed in S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms, disembarked from the escort car and rushed to the downed vehicle.
"Smith!" The man called, spotting him in the cab of the truck.
The woman was already pulling out a radio, "Greg, I'm calling it in; go check on Smith and Martinez." A radio switch flicked. "This is Agent Melanie Leall, escorting truck Sierra Charlie One Seven Four. There's been an accident and Smith is down. Martinez's whereabouts unknown. Secure cargo is classed as highly volatile. Requesting immediate backup. Over."
A few seconds of white noise, and then a hurried response sounded. "It may be a few, Leall. We'll send the closest team over ASAP, but we're dealing with worst case scenario here - Fury's chopper is down and chatter is that the Tesseract is gone. Hold down the fort until backup arrives. Over."
She huffed and tossed the radio back in the car before sprinting towards the wrecked truck. She met the other agent as he stepped away from the cab.
"Greg - any sign of Martinez?"
"No. Smith is alive, but he might have a broken bone or three. I'm not an EMT, though - I don't want to move him unless we have to. Martinez must have been in the back."
They approached the wreckage that is the back of the truck with some trepidation. Melanie shivered, her eyes scanning the patches of ice on the ground. "Any idea what the cargo was?"
Greg shook his head. "Not specifically. Highly volatile. High energy output. And I'm assuming kept in some sort of deep freeze from all this ice."
Rounding the corner, they saw Martinez on the ground, bits of metal and ice embedded into his arms and legs, surrounded by a pool of icy blood. A young woman stood over him, examining his injuries. Clad in an ethereal blue dress and cape, with long blond hair woven into a braid, she showed no visible injuries from the crash or explosion. She was grasping a shard of ice in her left hand.
Melanie was the first to draw her sidearm. "Step away from Martinez and put your hands where I can see them."
Obviously surprised, the young woman spun, flinging ice in their direction. Crystalline shards erupted from the ground near the agents. Shocked, the agents stepped back, but kept their eyes and guns fixed on the blonde. Her body trembled; her eyes darted in every direction, taking in the wreckage of the truck and the appearance of the two agents.
Melanie took a single step forward, before repeating her command, "I said step away from Martinez." Holstering her gun, she whispered to her partner, "Remind me to tell Fury personally that 'Highly Volatile' is a bad term for an imprisoned Meta."
Elsa awoke. She was lying in the remains of what she believed to be a coffin. Confused about why she'd awoken at all, she looked about. There was a man nearby. He was unconscious, and wounded, metal and ice shards buried in his arms and legs. He was alive, though. Then she heard the shout.
"Step away from Martinez and put your hands where I can see them!"
Her head still dazed, Elsa spun, automatically defending herself with her magic. Crystalline shards erupted from the ground near the agents. Shocked, the two people stepped back, but kept their eyes and hand items pointed at her. "I said step away from Martinez."
"Snakker de norsk?" she asked, still trying to clear her head.
The woman took a single step forward, before repeating her command a third time, "I said step away from Martinez."
English? They were speaking English? Where was she? She fixed on the speaker. "English?" she asked.
The woman nodded only slightly, and stared unblinkingly at Elsa. She lowered the item in her hand and raised a hand in a sign of non-violence. "You speak English?"
Elsa finally began to calm. "Some. I learned, but not as well as other languages. Am… am I in Hell?"
The woman arched an eyebrow, putting her item into a sheath on her belt. Elsa could see them whispering to each other. "Some days I think so. Let's walk over here, let people look at my friend."
Elsa walked with the strange woman for a few steps into the darkness of the night. Confusion, anger, and fear warred in her mind as she wondered what sort of afterlife she had been condemned to. The woman walking with her was oddly dressed, in men's trousers no less, and not what she was expecting in either angel or devil.
For a few steps, they were both silent. Ice spread out from her feet with every step, covering the sand and dirt with frost. Glancing at her oddly dressed companion, in a trembling voice, she asked, "If this is not Hell, where is my sister?" Am I denied to see her even in this afterlife?
Something seemed to click, and the woman asked, startled. "Do you think you're dead?
The shard of ice that she had forgotten she was carrying suddenly felt heavy in her left hand. A shard of Anna. "I should be," Elsa whispered. She clutched at the ice. She could feel the wind gathering strength around her. I want to be. But she wasn't. What happened. Where am I?
The other woman shivered at the icy wind. "No, you're not dead. I am getting cold, though. Can you, turn down the wind a bit?"
Elsa took a deep breath, her mantra of control repeating in her mind. Don't feel. The stoic calm of the other woman and the lack of fear in the her eyes helped. Don't feel. The wind slowed slightly. Don't feel. Her fears slightly abated, confusion was now predominate. She clearly knows, and she isn't trying to burn me at the stake yet, so that's something. Who is this woman? Where am I…. and "What manner of thing is that?"
Following her eyes, the other woman muttered something nonsensical, sounding like "extraterrestrial or predates automobiles." An English idiom, perhaps? "It's a horseless carriage," she said finally.
"A horseless carriage," Elsa whispered. How was this possible? She continued to stare.
"Hey," the woman said, trying to recapture her attention, "Don't worry about that thing for now. I'll answer your questions as best as I can, but can you answer a few of mine?"
The other woman's voice was overly sweet. She's not the first to walk on eggshells near me. Control. Don't feel. Don't feel. She shut her eyes before nodding shakily.
"Let's start with something simple - can you tell me your name?"
She opened her eyes to meet the other woman's. Queen Elsa, the first of her name, protector and sovereign of Arendelle. Snow Queen. Ice Sorceress. "Elsa. What is yours?"
"Melanie. Nice to meet you Elsa. Do you have a surname?
The royals of Arendelle do not have a family name. Of Arendelle, maybe? Elsa shook her head.
"Can you tell me where you're from?"
Her response was immediate. "Arendelle." Arendelle. Anna. Her breath quickened again and bits of snow started to fall.
Melanie took a step closer. "Elsa, try to stay calm. If this is difficult for you, we can just chat about something else." Another step closer, and a more lighthearted tone. "I love your dress."
I'm dangerous. Please don't step closer. I could run, but to where? Where am I? With a pained cry, she warned, "Just stay away."
Melanie's retreat was quick, taking three steps away from the girl. "Okay - I'm not trying to put pressure on you. I just want to know more, so that I can help you. You don't need to be afraid. I only want to help."
Don't feel. Deep breath. Don't feel. The knot in her chest loosened a bit. Don't feel. "Where am I? How did I get here?"
Melanie looked flustered, "You are in the Mojave desert in Arizona, United States," she finally replied. Elsa stared at her again. "Let me help you, Elsa. What is the last thing you remember?"
Snow. Death. Anna. Like a bursting dam, a torrent of emotion washed over her. Her expression hardened like the ice at her feet. The wind whipped at her cape and the temperature plummeted. Her jaw tightened as she ground out, "I remember welcoming death. How did I get here? What do you want of me?"
Melanie's held a hand up to shield her eyes from the sting of the building flurry, shivering from the cold. Snow was accumulating around them. "Elsa, take a deep breath and calm down."
A rumbling noise to her left broke through the sound of the storm. Another of the metal carriages she had seen earlier approached, untethered from any animal. Four men scrambled from the carriage and took up positions around it, leveling what could only be weapons of some kind at her.
Ignoring them completely, Elsa could only focus on the shard of ice in her left hand. The vision of Anna shattering, so recently seared into her mind, consumed her. The small snow storm grew thick enough to obstruct her vision, and the wind began to howl in her ears. She was losing control. She didn't want to hurt them.
"Elsa, please calm down. I want to help you."
If anything, the wind began to move faster. "Just… just stay away from me!" She ran a few steps from Melanie, only to be cut off by one of the new arrivals. "I said stay back!" A wave of her hands and a gust of wind knocked the man from his feet.
"Elsa. we aren't going to hurt you. Please calm down and let us help." Melanie had followed her, but the building snow was making it difficult for anyone to move quickly.
"Leave me alone!" With a wave of her hands, she crafted six figures of ice, bearing ice-wrought swords and shields. The ice warriors advanced on Melanie and the others, intent on defending their creator. Melanie futilely reached for the weapon on her hip, iced to her belt. She visibly struggled to remain standing through the building storm.
A loud voice sounded over the wind, "Stop what you are doing and step away from Agent Leall. No one needs to die today." Melanie raised her arms to block a blow from the first ice warrior. Her mind flashed to Anna making the same gesture, trying to defend Elsa from Hans.
Horrified, she waved her hands to stop her creations, silently commanding through the snow itself that the warriors were to slow their progress but harm no one. She ran a few steps further away, and pouring herself into the magic, raised both hands. An wall of ice rose from the ground between Elsa and the others. Tears in her eyes, she fled.
Neither she, nor the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, noticed a figure observing them at a distance, hidden in the darkness, grinning and listening.