Sergeant Fury flashed his badge, and the soldier nodded to his colleague, who raised the barrier.
Driving the jeep through onto the base, he could tell by the way the pair looked at him that he wasn't welcome.
Just try and take a swing at me, Fury thought. I'd love the chance to see just how many bones I can break.
"It's a lot smaller than I imagined. Quiet as well."
Buchanan-Barnes laughed as the wind blew in the pair's faces.
The staff is very minimalist. At least at first glance."
"Do you even have planes here? I've driven the full way across Lockmartin, I've not seen a single god-damn plane. And the hangars that were open looked empty."
Fury's superior smiled broadly as they walked. Buchanan-Barnes had made his name as a youngster, and he still had the boyish looks and sense of impishness that the famous photographs had recorded in his time serving under Captain Rogers.
"Officially, Lockmartin is semi-operative. Anyone at ground level in the Army or Air Force will be told that there's nothing going on here, that we keep things running just in case we need additional capacity at some point in the future, or if a plane needs to make an emergency landing."
"I get the sense that there's more than the official word?"
"You always were a sharp one, Fury."
Fury was beginning to tire of his superior's hints. It reminded him of the stupid shell games a colleague in Korea practiced - and didn't practice very well. It was blatantly obvious which of the three cups the ball was under almost every time, but he carried on like he had a trick up his sleeve, that he was about to expose the watcher's naiveté. He never did.
For almost any other man, Fury would have responded with threats of physical violence, or at least walked out, long before reaching this point. He could feel his muscular arms twitching, dying to give in to his instincts.
But the Sergeant respected Buchanan-Barnes enough to give him more faith than he would grant any other man. Not to mention that he felt personally indebted to his superior. Fury forced the cheeriest tone he could find within himself.
"So, where are we going, sir?"
Hearing himself speak, even that sounded irritated and impatient. Deception was never his forte.
The pair were walking across the airfield between the canteen and a closed hangar. Fury had been sat alone with a coffee - some of the rednecks a table over were looking at him as if he were a Martian. Over the years he'd developed a thick skin, but he still found it exhausting to hold the fire within him, particularly given that he didn't know if the trip here was worthwhile.
"Call me Bucky. I'm not with the army anymore, so I'm not your superior. For the moment at least."
"Where are we going, Bucky?"
After speaking, Fury realised there was power, even anger evident in his tone. Even from a man he respected as much as the former Major Buchanan-Barnes, he was beginning to tire of the mystery. The Major - 'Special Director' now - wore a uniform Fury wasn't familiar with. It was predominantly navy blue, with a light yellow belt and shoulder strap.
"One thing you'll need to learn working with SHIELD, is to think beyond everything you knew previously. The true nature of the world around us is mind-blowing, almost limitless."
Fury wasn't sure if he rolled his eyes, but he did look away. He was almost ready to tell him, to hell with your secret organisation and cryptic insinuations. I'm a soldier, I deal with solid facts, things I can get my head around and understand.
Being an army soldier in peacetime wouldn't be too bad - and Fury had the money set aside to become a private citizen again, if need be. He could grow his hair, shave it all off – maybe even grow a goatee.
They reached the hangar. As with all the others, there was a door, as large as on any front door to a house or barracks, in the centre. On this hangar, the door was guarded by two men in SHIELD uniforms, but with orange belts and straps. They saluted to Buchanan-Barnes, and stepped to each side, allowing him to open the door.
Holding the door ajar before he entered, Bucky turned towards his former subordinate, smiling a broad, joyously mischievous smile.
"You're about to go through the looking glass Fury."
Fury hesitated outside a second, maybe even two - certainly longer than he was supposed to - silently cursing his superior.
When he followed the Special Director in, he was taken aback by what he saw. Towering above him, filling most of the hangar, was... a ship? A plane? The front section was yellow, with a red shape at its fore tip that looked like a glimmering star. Or maybe it was supposed to represent an explosion? Stepping to the side, the main body of this thing was grey. Fury could see no sign of wings or an engine. Maybe a large submarine, but then why would it be so far inland? And how would it be moved out of the hangar?
Fury walked around, totally indifferent and unaware of the many SHIELD staff around him. Though every instinct he'd ever picked up told him it was impossible, the best explanation he could think of was that this was some form of alien spaceship.