2013 Enroot to SHIELD and at SHIELD HQ
Recruitment Part One
I was on a small jet going to who knows where. I really should ask but I'm sure there will be at least one shadow somewhere. I'm not too worried. Selina was safe, that was all that mattered. The SUV had passed the library and I had flinched, panicked, until I saw the swish of a long white fabric disappear into the crowd getting on a tour bus. That's my sister, always thinking. But we hadn't stopped. Selina had gotten back to the safe house and texted me the code words for "safe and all clear" and "packing up".
She would pack up the necessities and escape as far and as fast as she could. Now I sat in this high tech jet, my eyes bugged out looking at this Agent Coulson. From what I've hacked about SHIELD, he was the top gun—the go to guy so to speak. No picture obviously; just a vague profile lots of classified stamps.
What bugged me was that I had hacked into SHIELD servers again this year (I do it once a year just to stay on top of things) and it had said he was inactive; killed in action. So what was he doing here, in front of me… alive?
"So, you're supposed to be dead." I said in a would be calm voice. It bothered me somewhat, this fear of the dead coming back to life. Death is fine. It's when something defies death that makes me nervous.
"My death was somewhat exaggerated. If you don't mind telling me, how did you know about it?" his eyes were sharp.
"Smart cookie, aren't you?" I mumbled. "I read about it somewhere." Not a lie, technically. "Didn't you die the same day as the battle of New York? Or didn't die, as it were." I looked around to notice that we were landing on a private air strip somewhere that looked very much like Boston.
"You mean you hacked in to our servers and read it there." I glanced back at him; Coulson was looking at the files in his lap seemingly completely absorbed.
"Well, yeah. I had to keep track of my top pursuers, didn't I? Last time I didn't keep track my main agent up and retired." I did miss Peggy. Over the years we had gotten together and had a cup of tea or to shoot the breeze. But as time had gone on we started drifting apart, her to take care of her daughter and me to run from the Scotland Yard. She had a dry wit that had always got me to smile.
"Yes, Agent Carter. That's here in your file though limited. I'm curious, what did you find on me?"
"Self centered much, Agent Coulson? I didn't figure you for an ego maniac." I smirked when I got a cool look from him.
"Merely wondering if I should go through and classify more," was his offhanded reply.
"It basically said that you were the number one agent, Super Nanny to the Avengers and A List for running the show after the current director." I was already board with the conversation.
We walked in to the complex from the air strip, not the main doors like I was expecting. They seemed less on edge than I thought they would be. I mean, I had killed almost ten of their men single handily and with only a close range weapon. I didn't recognize any of the men around me from Afghanistan but that meant little. I really only remembered three people out of the twenty odd that were there: Fury, his useless wingman at the time, and Natasha.
As soon as we walked in we were immediately accosted by the guards. "I'll be taking your bag." The one on the left state with authority. I noticed with amusement that he had the Tasmanian Devil tattooed on his wrist… what a liability in the field. I could see that later on and identify him with SHIELD, and then shoot him point blank depending on how this little meeting went.
"Yeah no can do, Taz. I need it." he made a grab for it anyway. "Back. Off." My pupils expanded to the edge of my irises only showing a small sliver of the mercury swirl. He took a hasty step back paling significantly.
"That won't be necessary Agent Greene. I'm sure Mr. Denge doesn't have any weapons in his bag." Coulson was looking at me with reproach.
We walked down the hall and hung a right. Every agent we passed stepped aside for us to pass. If they weren't looking at me with fear, they were looking at Coulson with awe. It was slightly annoying. Two hall ways later the cool disapproval radiating from the older man finally got to me.
"Stop looking at me with that tone of voice." I ground out.
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, Mr. Denge." Coulson said innocently.
"You're dying to reprimand me; I can feel it in the way the back of my neck tingles whenever you glance at me. I'm not a child, much less yours to reprimand. For your information, this bag happens to hold important things that I need." I finished off mulishly.
"Like your computer… or your Scythe?" again with the sharp eyes.
"Like my lunch." I replied drily.
To prove my point, when we stopped outside of one of the doors in the next hall I reached into my bag and grabbed a large bag of Doritos. Crunching happily I pretended not to notice how the hardened agent beside me tensed when I had put my hand in my bag. As if just to spite me, he gave me one of those disapproving looks that told me he was not amused. He opened the door and steered me inside.
The room was sparse; one table, two chairs and one long one way mirror. There were no windows and a very small air vent maybe big enough for a small person… like me. It looked like a typical interrogation room. I had to admit it I was a little disappointed; I had expected some one waiting for me in the room. Be it a Mr. No-Nonsense or a Miss. I'm-Scared-Of-You-So-Be-Nice.
"Sit there please." He indicated the chair to the right side of the table.
Agent Coulson didn't come in to the room with me but waited for me to… well not get comfortable, but situated at least. His foreboding air seemed to fade a little and his eyes were somewhat kinder when he saw me slouching in the hard plastic chair all but hugging my bag to me. I played up the lost and nervous teen, though not that much. Looking around this room I could see shadows, the one under the table and in the corner of the room, but none were dark enough for me to shadow travel.
"The Director will be with you shortly." He said with a polite smile. I looked at him waiting for more and the smile turned slightly softer. "Try to be good and not destroy anything. And feel free to eat your lunch."
"Thanks." I said with a bright sarcastic smile. He left quickly after that.
Great… he must think I'm weak. I'm NOT weak.
Along with my Doritos, I had a ziploc bag full of Oreos (about 25 in the bag), a large bag of teriyaki beef jerky. Mmm… junk food. If I had to choose anything mundane about the 21st century that I love it would be the abundance of junk food. The only really healthy thing I had in my bag for lunch was five juice boxes. Normally I would have just bought a jug of juice or tea and called it good but today felt like a juice box and bendy straw day. I could see my sister defending me now:
"What are you looking at people? Death and destruction can't enjoy the simple things in life anymore?"
Queue slightly hysterical giggle.
I was halfway done with done with my Oreos and onto my third juice box, the jerky long gone, when the door opened again. Agent Coulson stepped through and walked to stand to the left of the chair. I looked back to the Oreo in my hands less interested in this director compared to twisting the cookie just so to get a perfect circle of cream. I didn't hear the other man walk in but out of the corner of my eye I saw that the door was now closed.
"Still acting like a child playing grown up I see. Only now, more child, less grown up." The hard familiar voice had me dropping my cookie and standing up in a flash.
Right across from me, standing in front of the chair, was Nick Fury. He looked much the same as he had the last time I saw him thirteen years ago, minus one eye. His hands were behind his back again making mine itch to teach him the lesson he didn't learn in Afghanistan. Looking very much in charge he stood straight backed in dark clothing and glared at me with his one good eye as Agent Coulson had that eye twitching polite smile back on in full force.
He called me a child again… maybe I should kill him this time. No, Agent Coulson is innocent; I won't risk it.
"Fury. What are you doing here? Last I heard you and your boy band were in New York." He didn't even twitch at my jab.
"I'm the Director of SHIELD, I have many obligations." He seemed annoyed already.
"What?! Since when?" my voice might have cracked but I will deny it to the grave. If I can get to the grave.
"I was the Director when we caught up to you in Afghanistan as well." He looked somewhat smug having caught me in a slip up.
Damn. I don't remember that.
"Speaking of Afghanistan, where's that poor sap you had chasing me around the market place in one hundred and twelve degree weather while you waited by the water fountain? It wasn't Agent Coulson here. He's more…" I tilted my head to the left. "Proper than the man you had huffing at my heals. What was it? Stillwells? He kept forgetting he had no gun and freaked out the locals reaching for nothing." I chuckled.
"Agent Sitwell is otherwise engaged. But I'll tell him you asked over his health. Agent Coulson will be your handler until further notice. What I need to know is why you are in New York. Besides attempting to crash the stock market and start another great depression." He glared at me like I was supposed to care.
I sat back down with a sigh and grabbed my cookie again. I needed to stall. Giving Selina enough time to get out was essential. A thought crossed my mind that might just help me in more ways than one. Well it more than just crossed my mind. For the past thirteen years it had been a constant thought in the back of my mind. Like a broken faucet dripping. I had never indulged myself in the mere concise thought—the dreams were bad enough. But now, with time to kill and a direct vein of information to her, I let myself be curious.
"Tell me, who is Nat—Agent Romanov?" I caught myself at the last minute. If these men found out that Natasha was a weak point for me, they would use it to their full advantage.
"I'll tell you once you've told me what you are doing in New York." He tried to compromise, not knowing the leverage he had over me.
I looked down and took a long sip of juice just to annoy him further. To my immense satisfaction I ran out of juice halfway through my slurp and sucked on air for a few seconds. Fury's eye twitched. Coulson looked unfazed; he even cocked an eyebrow at me. Oh, this was more fun than talking in multiple languages. I slowly tossed my empty container in the trash and sat back to smile mockingly at the Director.
"Denge!" He slammed his hands on the table. Quick as a flash, I was up out of my seat and had my Scythe out (in dagger form) and pointed it at his jugular, a mere millimeter from his skin. Coulson almost as fast as me, had his gun out and pointed right between my eyes; the indulgent and almost kind look in his eyes gone. I paid him no mind.
"Scared, Director? You know what touching even the handle of this blade does. Let me make it perfectly clear that you would die instantly, no suffering or time to think of regrets. What happened with Natasha was a one off. One tap, just one, Director." My eyes were hard, my voice soft.
There was a whisper in my mind, the Chant coming back. Every time I touched my Existența răului it was getting harder and harder to ignore. I had only touched it twice in the last thirteen years, horrified that I had almost killed my Chosen. Thirteen years without her had driven me in to a kind of mad darkness that I could only escape if I deigned who I was. It might take years but if I continued to use my Scythe, I would be lost to the Death and Destruction of it.
"Coulson. Put down your weapon. Guns don't work on him." Technically not true, but he didn't need to know that. Fury was as cool as a cucumber. I was beginning to hate this man. "Denge, stand down. We're just talking here."
Would I obey this man's orders? This is clearly a test and now to see if I passed. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that this man is the first step to my redemption.
Trying to ignore the Chant still pulsing slightly in my mind, I listened.