A/N: The next few chapters deal with the immediate aftermath of Spider-Man: Far From Home. The events - and revelations - in the movie provided a perfect bridge between the universes of Mass Effect and MCU, even though these chapters deal with just the subtlest hints of what I'm planning.
Much thanks to my beta, ElessarII.
Reviews: A guest reviewer pointed out that my fic is a little confusing because this crossover is set in a universe that's pretty niche. I've updated all the previous chapters with context that might be helpful in understanding the story better. Hopefully, they clear any doubts you might have, but if otherwise, feel free to ask me in the comments down below. Thanks a lot to the anon reviewer for pointing this out. Hopefully, this hasn't put off anyone from reading this story.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
…
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
- The Stolen Child; William Butler Yeats
July 10th, 2024
LOCATION: ABANDONED HANGAR, MANHATTAN
The hangar's doors slam shut as the Man in Black drives in.
He climbs out, walks over to the Captain, and hands over a sheaf of papers, before gazing speculatively at the truck behind him. The Captain doesn't spare more than a single glance at the documents.
"Didn't think you'd be requiring our services again, sir," he tells the Man, activating his tablet, "in light of the cancellation orders on the 2017 assignment." The Captain swipes through various windows on the tablet, and behind him, the design on the side of the truck changes with every potential disguise he offers.
The Man stares as the tablet cycles through Bendeery English Ale to Eagle Postal Services. "There was a last-minute update on that mission. I recall you were well compensated for the inconvenience."
The Captain's wince is noticeable enough for the Man to arch an eyebrow in question. "That's not the issue, sir. It's just that... this is a big one. The whole world is going to have eyes on it. Chances of backfiring are high."
The Man in Black looks at him impassively. "All the missions were 'big', Captain," he says. "You just weren't aware of the scale." He points to the latest design on the tablet. "I believe Rush's Cleaning Services would be ideal."
The Captain looks doubtfully at the side of the truck. A cartoon figure holding a mop smiles cheerfully at him, and below him, the bright yellow tagline exclaims We love Dirty Jobs!
"Most don't choose that, because it's rather... memorable."
The Man walks over to the rear of the truck, opens the back door and nods approvingly at the rows of armed and armored men staring at him. "Precisely," he says, climbing in, and shuts the door.
STARK RESIDENCE, GEORGIA, ATLANTA
"How's work?" Rhodey asks.
"Stocks continue to go down," Pepper says, forking her eggs. "We - Tony had been working on some ideas - F.R.I.D.A.Y. 's been filling the gaps and fabricating trial products. But more and more investors are backing out every day. Think I might have to start outsourcing soon."
Isabelle twirls her knife between her fingers. She's only taken a few bites, but she's already full.
Communal breakfast has become mandatory since Coulson dropped her off at the lakehouse. Pepper's trying her level best, but Isabelle isn't the only one to whom this feels more like an obligation than a family gathering. Morgan's already eaten and left, eager to be away from the silent storm that's brewing between the adults.
"S.I. isn't what's worrying me though," Pepper says mildly, sipping coffee from her mug. "Water bill's skyrocketing."
Isabelle resists the urge to rub her forehead, already anticipating the migraine this conversation is going to lead to. She doesn't respond, but Pepper doesn't need her to. The redhead has had years of practice dealing with recalcitrant Starks, and she doesn't shy away from using her experience as a weapon.
"I really don't appreciate having to refill the pool every morning either," Rhodey mutters around a mouthful of bacon.
They're both staring at her now with identical unimpressed faces. She supposes she should be grateful Happy isn't here to make it a trio. She wouldn't have tolerated this from him.
"Fine. I'll remember to do it after I finish my laps," she tells him evenly, completely ignoring Pepper's statement.
This isn't the first time they've brought this up. Few bother with passive-aggressive commentary anymore - another side effect of the Decimation, because no one thinks they have the time. People have learned to expect the other shoe to drop at any moment, and want to fix any and all problems now, now, now because tomorrow they might literally not exist.
Pepper and Rhodey have become overprotective since she disappeared on them again. They seem to have forgotten the concept of space. She understands it, to an extent, but it's not like she keeps vanishing intentionally.
"You aren't sleeping."
She opens her mouth to say something that would've been scathing and undeniably hurtful, but just then F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts them with a hologram projected over the dining table.
"Boss Lady, Colonel, skipper - sorry for the interruption, but I figured you'd wanna see this."
Humans aren't the only ones who have been having trouble dealing. Isabelle's been here twelve days, and not once has F.R.I.D.A.Y. operated any of her emotional subroutines.
Until now.
The thinly suppressed worry in the A.I.'s fine Irish brogue is enough to make Rhodey sit up. "What have you got for us, FRI?"
Pepper inhales sharply as the irritatingly familiar figure of one J. Jonah Jameson appears on the screen, practically frothing at the mouth, a manic glee in his eyes that promises nothing good for whoever he's chosen to target today.
And his victim is none other than Peter Benjamin Parker, seventeen, and newly exposed as Spider-Man, a murderer of heroes.
The last she'd heard of the kid was that Fury had called him in to deal with the elementals rampaging across Europe.
Pepper and Rhodey are on their feet, the former barking orders furiously on her phone as they watch the editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle drag Spider-Man's name through the mud.
Izzy remains seated, her body gradually unwinding from the tension from before. Everything's settled inside her now, replaced by the burn of adrenaline flooding her veins. Talking doesn't help, home doesn't help, but this; trouble has always helped her focus and forget everything else.
She hasn't even realized, but all this time she's been home, she has been looking for a target - someone to hurt, someone to rip apart.
Her eyes linger on the video footage Jameson had displayed for all the world to see - more specifically on the man responsible for framing Spider-Man for the drone attacks on London.
She can feel Rhodey's gaze on her, and isn't surprised when he asks, "What do you know?"
He's always been able to see past all her masks.
She points a knife at the mysterious man shooting green fire out of his hands. "I've seen him before."
"He was on the nightly news a few days ago, for that incident with the water elemental in Italy."
"L'uomo del mistero," she says, the vowels rolling off her tongue perfectly. "I heard. I don't mean that, though. I mean from before."
"Explain," and that's Pepper, who's flushed with rage and panic.
"I saw him only once," Isabelle explains, and she still hasn't risen from her seat. "And I may be wrong about this, but I don't think I am - I think he worked for Stark Industries."
Pepper blinks at the hologram. F.R.I.D.A.Y. zooms in on Mysterio's face without being prompted.
"I don't remember him," Pepper admits. Rhodey nods in agreement.
Isabelle sighs and straightens. She doesn't really want to do this, but what choice does she have? If she's right, then they can halt the oncoming storm before it even begins to up and destroy Parker's life. Bonus if she gets to help knock J. Jonah Jameson off his self-righteous pedestal.
"You wouldn't," she says, and her voice is as gentle as she can make it. This is a part of her life she never wants to revisit, but when has any Stark gotten what they want? She looks at Peter's face in the video, his clearly doctored voice demanding that the drones be deployed on the citizens.
She isn't going to let him be dragged over the coals for this.
"I got a glimpse of him during the 2016 September Foundation speech," she explains quietly.
Both Pepper and Rhodey flinch. That particular MIT presentation was the start of the collapse of the rest of their lives. Rhodey had lost his legs, she had lost the baby, Tony had lost… everything.
And Pepper had been there for none of it.
Isabelle doesn't blame her. She has never needed to. Her sister-in-law still wears guilt and grief like a shroud.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Pepper asks thickly.
"Scanning the records of all known S.I. employees now," the A.I. confirms.
"Filter search for employees who got demoted to the 'ex' status during that time period," Isabelle says, flipping the knife between her index and middle fingers, and the A.I. complies.
"Are you sure about this?" Pepper asks, but her fingers are already flying across her phone.
"Facial recognition confirmed," F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimes, and there's a tone in her usually pleasant voice that Isabelle is sure her creator hadn't programmed into her.
Vindictive rage is the closest approximation.
But then, the A.I.'s always been extraordinarily protective of the Spiderling.
She projects another hologram, and on it is displayed a document with Mysterio's photo on it.
"Quentin Beck, former Stark Industries employee, designer of the holographic interface used in the Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing prototype technology. Boss booted him from S.I. personally when he proved to be emotionally unstable despite his genius."
All three of them raise their eyebrows. Tony Stark, firing someone for having a low EQ? Tony was a lot of things, but he wasn't a hypocrite. He'd have made sure his employees got the proper treatment for any mental health issues; hell, he'd have footed their bills himself - he wouldn't just unceremoniously kick them out.
Not unless he had a damn good reason.
"Define 'emotionally unstable'," Rhodey orders.
"There are multiple restraining orders against Mr. Beck, and it seems like he's verbally threatened a few of his coworkers when they didn't agree with him. More than one psychiatrist has diagnosed him as bipolar, but someone had buried those records long before he ever applied for S.I. He's also threatened the boss himself. "
"How could we have missed this?" Pepper asks, hand on her mouth.
"We were missing out on a lot of things at that time," Rhodey growls.
Isabelle finally rises and gently taps twice on the table with the knife to get their attention. "You have more than enough to work your magic, Miss Potts. Will that be all?"
The redhead flinches again at the familiar to and fro, and Isabelle shuts her eyes. Those words... have never been hers.
"That will be all, Miss Stark," she says finally, acknowledging the familiar repartee, even though neither of them has gone by those titles in years. There's steel in her eyes - God save Jonah Jameson because Pepper Potts-Stark is going to skin him alive.
She's been protective of Peter since that fateful battle in Leipzig. And May Parker and Pepper had gotten along like a house on fire.
Isabelle suppresses a sigh. That had been her and Pepper, once, until the Civil War had broken her in ways she didn't think was possible. The engagement had offered them a second chance - but they had barely started building what had been so thoroughly broken before she was literally wiped out of existence.
And now.
Now, Isabelle doesn't think she wants to try again. They are too broken, too torn apart to be put back together again, no matter how much her sister-in-law wants them to try.
"What are you going to do?" Rhodey asks, and his voice is soft, and Isabelle knows without looking at him that he knows what's going through her head because he's always been able to read her. He still looks at her like the woman he'd fallen in love with, had grieved with, had lost - first to Thanos, then to herself.
She can't stand that, not right now.
She forces herself to meet his eyes. "I'm going to extract the kid, and figure out how Fury could've missed something this big."
"You think he could be involved?"
"Explains why I wasn't called in for this," she shrugs and points towards the gigantic water monster crashing down on the Grand Canal.
Rhodey realizes at the same time as Pepper that Isabelle could've stopped this before it got so out of hand. She would've immediately recognized it as a fake because she wouldn't have sensed the elemental.
"The jet's waiting for you at the airstrip," Pepper says and she nods her thanks and pulls off her jacket from the rack. She's glad neither of them tries to stop her. "I'm gonna get my lawyers on this."
"Be careful," two voices echo from behind her as she slips through the door.
"Never," Isabelle whispers as her skin morphs into water and she takes to the skies.
LOCATION: UNKNOWN
Peter comes to with a gasp.
The first thing he sees when he wrenches open his eyes is a bald man in a suit looking at him impassively, hands resting on a silver suitcase, surrounded by heavily armed soldiers. Peter can hear a muffled growl emerging from beneath the floor, and the narrow space trembles for a second before settling.
He's inside a vehicle.
Peter instinctively attempts to shove himself off his seat, only to find his hips collared to the wall with a shiny magnetic cuff that doesn't budge even when he applies his full, enhanced strength against it. A brief second of frantic examination determines it's worse - two collars around his wrists and ankles truss him up, and another magnetic one sits snugly around his neck.
His muscles strain against the restraints futilely for a long minute, before he slumps back.
"Vibranium alloy," the bald man explains. "The cervical harness is also equipped with power-dampeners, so I would not waste energy trying to escape."
Peter's eyes widen. He remembers that voice. It was the same voice that had called out his full name - Peter Benjamin Parker - in the garage he'd been hiding in as fully armed men had spread out, alert, with weapons at the ready.
Not once had he ever wanted to fight soldiers - brave men and women just doing their jobs, much like how he had tried to - so he'd given up without a fight.
He remembers nothing after that.
"Are you taking me to the Raft?" he asks, and he's proud when his voice doesn't tremble.
The bald man tilts his head. "I do not have clearance for that place. And I would not take you there even if I did."
"I'm innocent," Peter tries, without much hope.
"Yes."
Peter blinks, certain he'd heard wrong, but the man doesn't look inclined to change his words. "You… what?"
"I am aware that you were framed for murder by Quentin Beck, also known to the world at large as Mysterio."
"Then why," he finally croaks, shakes his head. " - who are you? What do you want?"
"My name is Enoch, and I am an anthropologist," he replies calmly. "I believe we may be able to assist each other."
Peter's watched enough movies to know how this goes. "Let me guess," he snarls, his fists clenching in fear and fury, " - I do something nasty for you, and you help prove me innocent? No, thanks."
"The whole world is hunting Spider-Man," he continues as though he hadn't been interrupted. "The safest place for Peter Parker right now is inside this truck, listening to me. Listen, not obey. You will soon realize you have very little choice in the matter."
Enoch nods at one of the soldiers, who withdraws a remote from his breast pocket with a red button. Peter stiffens, his eyes widening in panic. He struggles futilely, then braces himself as the soldier hits the button.
The collars open with a synchronized click.
His abilities return with a rush that leaves him stunned. After a moment, he exhales and rubs at his wrists wonderingly. He brushes his fingers against his right jeans pocket as subtly as he can, breathing an internal sigh of relief when he feels the familiar frame poking him.
At least they hadn't found E.D.I.T.H. He doesn't know what he'd have done if he'd lost her again.
He looks speculatively at Enoch and his row of soldiers, the latter of which is looking at him warily. They aren't attacking, but he spots a few fingers twitching towards their weapons.
Enoch looks as unnervingly impassive as ever.
Peter's curiosity trumps over his instincts.
"Why would an anthropologist want to help me?"
"Because you are needed for greater destinies," he replies instantly. "Destinies you cannot fulfill from within an underwater detention center."
Well, that's disturbingly vague."How are you going to help me?"
Enoch opens the silver case on his lap and turns it around. Peter's jaw drops as he looks at the shiny, brand-new, and incredibly illegal contents. "I am not," the older man says. "All I can offer you are the resources to help yourself."
Peter's hands brush against the gravelly cover of a passport. "Destinies," he whispers. "I don't… What am I supposed to do?"
"Unknown."
"Where exactly am I supposed to go?"
"Unknown."
His heart should be soaring, because his Spidey-Sense doesn't detect these men as threats, and Enoch himself has done nothing but give him literally everything he needs to find a way out of this mess. But it just drives the stake of one unmistakable truth deeper into his heart.
He's utterly, completely alone.
"Will I succeed?" His voice is very small.
This time, there's just the briefest hesitation before Enoch answers.
"Unknown."
July 13th, 2024
LOCATION: OUTSIDE GEORGIA AIRSPACE
The exhaustion of fruitless searching and deliberate insomnia is threatening to pull her under, but it doesn't stop Isabelle from yanking herself off her seat once they're in the air and striding towards the flight deck, from which Happy's already emerging, looking relieved.
"Autopilot's engaged and the cloaking's on," he tells her. "F.R.I.D.A.Y's gonna be monitoring the airwaves for chatter."
"I should be down there," she all but snarls. "Ross is on the warpath, and he's targeting anyone associated with Spider-Man. Pepper and Rhodey…"
" - are a hell of a lot safer than you are," he tells her. "Pepper has SI's lawyers working overtime to keep the Secretary at bay. Rhodey has the Air Force's backing - they're not gonna wanna give up the armor. You… have nothing, and don't give me that crap about S.H.I.E.L.D."
"…I wasn't going to," she finally admits. "I don't trust them any more than you." She ignores the pang that statement provokes. "But I don't need anyone's protection - I can handle Ross myself."
Isabelle hadn't been able to swallow the bitter pill when President Kelly had nominated Ross for the Secretary position yet again. She had anticipated further trouble from him, but not so soon.
He wants to make an example. Parker's head on a pike is a good way to go about it.
"I know," he says, swiping at a tablet, his face tight with tense anticipation. "He isn't why I got you out. Pepper wants you to take a look at something." His eyes meet hers. "Something that we think has to do with Parker's disappearance."
She blinks, straightens at the tone of his voice, earlier indignation promptly forgotten. "What'd you have?"
He doesn't seem to mind her abruptness - either he's gotten used to her general demeanor over the years or he's just eager to show her what he's found. Judging by how he jogs across the cabin, it's more of the latter this time. "Wasn't actually me," he's explaining as she follows him, " - F.R.I.D.A.Y. caught and archived footage from an ancient surveillance camera in one of the seedier parts of Manhattan."
"Thought you'd already analyzed all of it and come up negative," Isabelle addresses the AI.
"I did," F.R.I.D.A.Y. replies over the intercom, " - but this one is… new. All the surveillance cameras within a two-mile radius went dark for thirty seconds; like someone wiped off this footage before putting it back in. What's stranger is that there's no digital trace of what happened to it anywhere."
"None of this sounds legitimate."
"I happen to agree."
"Bring it up, girl," Isabelle commands, turning to the screen on the side of the cabin.
The footage displays a blurry, staticky image of a street. A cleaners' truck pulls up alongside one of the abandoned buildings, and an entire company of armed soldiers burst out of the back, followed by a tall bald man in a suit.
The company disappears into the building, and after long, tense minutes, brings out a stretcher on which a figure lies bound. They pull in the figure - motionless, stiff as a board - shut the door, and the truck drives off.
Isabelle inhales. The footage is too grainy to determine whether the figure was Peter Parker but she can't find it in herself to ignore the voice inside her insisting that this is a real lead. "Where'd the truck go?"
"We tracked every surveillance camera that leads from that street, but we couldn't find it," Happy says, " - which is where this gets interesting." He gestures towards the screen and F.R.I.D.A.Y. obligingly brings up multiple footages from before and after the mysterious abduction.
All showcase different vehicles on different roads - one was a beer truck, another: a postal truck - but no Rush's Cleaning Services anywhere.
"We were stumped. Went through it for hours, had almost given it up as a lost cause but then Pepper had an idea - she made F.R.I.D.A.Y. carry out a structural analysis of all the trucks," he says, " - et voila." On the screen, F.R.I.D.A.Y. highlights the wireframes of all the trucks and superimposes them on top of one another.
The result is an exact match.
"I followed the truck's route using the surveillance and pinpointed its destination while Mr. Hogan extracted you before Secretary Ross stormed the lakehouse." The A.I. brings up a map and zooms in on a location.
Isabelle stays silent for a long time. "Might not be him," she says, and her voice is not gentle. She feels Happy bristle. "Even if it is, it's been four days. He might be anywhere. He might be d…"
Happy interrupts before she can finish that sentence with the one potential truth neither of them is willing to live with. "That street was on our list of potential places the kid might've disappeared to after Jameson outed him," he argues, and his eyes are too bright. "And I've seen that level of illusion tech - all too recently, in fact. Hell, that is small potatoes compared to what I saw."
"Beck is dead, Happy."
His fists are clenched, but she knows his anger isn't directed towards her. "Illusion. Tech," he repeats through gritted teeth. "And even if he is… do you really think he was working alone?"
"Could be fake. Could be a trap."
"Why do you think we picked you?"
She arches an eyebrow at him, and her mouth quirks up with more amusement than she feels. "Thanks for that."
He raises his arms, but his expression is stubborn. "If I've learned anything about Starks over the years - it's that traps can't hold you. If this is him - we need a Stark to get him out."
"Haven't been that for a long time."
His glare tells her he knows exactly what she's doing - trying to find a reason to believe that this isn't what they're both hoping it is, a way to find Spider-Man - and that he's not impressed by her half-hearted efforts. She sighs, and he slumps in relief. "Still didn't need you to come. I could've handled this myself."
He looks at her for a long moment. "Izzy - after F.R.I.D.A.Y. zeroed in on the target… the original footage disappeared again. No trace of it, anywhere on the Internet. She's the only one who has a copy of it."
"Someone wanted us to find it," she surmises. "Definitely a trap."
"Pepper knew you didn't need help. But Peter might. That's why I'm here." He sighs, rubs at his forehead, before shuffling back to the cockpit. "I'm just grateful Ross won't get his hands on it."
She stills, shuts her eyes, hearing the echo of a clock ticking down in her mind. Her heart beats a rapid staccato against her ribs.
"Ross isn't the only one looking," she mutters, too quietly for him to hear.
It's a long time before she can tear her gaze away from the stiff figure on the frozen still of the footage.
July 14th, 2024
LOCATION: ABANDONED HANGAR, MANHATTAN
Isabelle lands lightly just beyond the aircraft entrance, the hood on her stealth suit pulling up automatically as she looks over at the huge metallic doors.
Happy had parked the jet in a clearing deep into the woods surrounding the hangar and is currently canvassing the rear. He'd grudgingly agreed to keep a low profile at her insistence while she draws any potential fire from the nine heat signatures F.R.I.D.A.Y. detected within the facility. There's no sign of the truck, but that doesn't mean anything - she has been warned that everything she sees inside had the potential to be an illusion.
It's why she had pulled up the hood.
The HUD flickers on, scanning for any heat emitted by Stark Industries drones and finding none. F.R.I.D.A.Y. hacks into the automated controls of the hangar, and the entrance doors slide open with a low grind, displaying a well-illuminated interior.
The hangar is bare, except for a few large metal containers spread haphazardly across the vast space and one familiar white truck with a blank side at the far end. Pipes run in an elaborate network just below the ceiling, interrupted by valves, faucets, and heavy-duty smoke detectors.
Her figure shimmers into fluid as she walks in. They're waiting for her, armed to the teeth with automatics, gathered around a tall broad man she assumes is their Captain.
"This ends one way," she addresses him in a low voice. "You tell me what I want to know - or I make you tell me. Where is Spider-Man? "
His expression doesn't change as he lifts a tiny device and presses a red button.
She blinks as the sound in her suit cuts off and her suit freezes around her. She can't budge an inch. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" she demands, staring at the men who had looked ready to rip her to shred with their weapons just a moment ago, but now are relaxed, even conversing with each other in low voices.
"You were being exposed to a specific high-pitched sonic frequency that paralyzed you. I couldn't hack the transmitter, so I cut off your external audio feed and microphone and immobilized your suit to keep up the appearance that the device is working."
Her blood runs cold. "The Sonic Taser," she murmurs, recalling the last time it had been used.
"Not exactly, but runs on similar principles, yes. Skipper… you just lost forty seconds. "
"Didn't even realize it," she says, eying the blinking transmitter in the Captain's hands and specialized plastic plugs sealing all of their ears. "What're they saying?"
"Trying to figure out how to contain you in your fluid form. Suspension gel matrix seems to be the most popular course of action."
She exhales. They're starting to amble towards her, their weapons idle. "You know what to do."
"Yep."
F.R.I.D.A.Y. 's response syncs up beautifully with her intentions, and the suit regains mobility the moment one of the soldiers get close enough to - what, Isabelle can't tell, it's not as if he's going to be able to touch her in her current form.
Her hand shoots out, grabs an arm, and deep-freezes until the soldier drops the assault rifle with a yell. Her icy right hook is hard enough that she can feel his nose shatter under her fist, and she follows it up with a knee to the gut that sends him crumpling to the ground.
She feels a second soldier creeping up behind her and ducks under his swing. Her fingers curl around the plug in his ear and yank it out. Predictably, he freezes in place, still as a statue, his expression one of comic disbelief.
The external speakers are still down, so she doesn't register the gunshots until F.R.I.D.A.Y. cries out a warning.
"Skipper, watch out! "
Her head shoots up, just in time to register the muzzle flash a bright electric blue.
She stumbles when the first bullet passes her right leg, and the realization that she felt the impact at all freezes her for a brief, stupid second, long enough for a couple more to glance off her fluid form before she has the presence of mind to dive behind a container.
"What the hell…" she gasps, as her body immediately reforms into flesh and bone.
"Non-lethal tranquilizers therapeutically dosed with a biochemical agent, " F.R.I.D.A.Y. brings up a body scan on her hood's HUD, zooming in on her leg, through which she can see the sluggish spread of bluish veins.
"Where the hell did they get goddamn I.C.E.R.s," she growls.
"The bullet passed through harmlessly, but the dendrotoxin penetrated your body via a variation of hypodermoclysis. I am attempting to flush it out of your system using the suit's water reserves, but I suggest you find an alternative before you lose consciousness. "
"I'm not gonna last long enough to take them all out," she mutters, already feeling the effects of the toxin moving sluggishly beneath her skin. She glances up at the paneled ceiling and narrows her eyes at disk-shaped structures mounted on the ceiling, then ducks as another bullet zings above her head. "How many of the hangar systems do you have access to?"
The HUD zooms in on the device without prompting and brings up its schematics. "I like the way you think," F.R.I.D.A.Y. says just before she activates the fire sprinklers.
The sluice of cold water streams washes out the worst of the toxin from her body, just in time for her to tug an enemy over from the side of the cover where he'd been creeping. He comes crashing to the floor beside her, and she punches his face hard enough to knock him out. "Non-lethal, right?" she asks, grabbing the assault rifle, and checking the ammunition cartridges, which are glowing a bright blue.
F.R.I.D.A.Y. doesn't respond, just reconfigures the targets on her display as Isabelle rounds around the cover and aims with her rifle. She picks them off one by one until the Captain tosses a similarly glowing grenade her way, and she has to dive out of cover to avoid the dendrotoxin-fueled haze that erupts when the bomb explodes.
Isabelle engages the remaining soldiers in close-combat, not bothering to return to her water form. The next few moments are a blur of punches and kicks as they struggle to fire off a shot that wouldn't end up as friendly fire.
After what seems like long minutes, it's just her and the Captain, trading blows in the hangar in the midst of a continuous outpouring of water from the sprinklers above them. He's much better trained than his men, and bigger than her, and adrenaline curls up hot in her veins when she's forced to apply her skills to their full extent.
Neither of them is able to gain the upper hand, and she's still feeling the lingering effects of the dendrotoxin, which is why she isn't able to duck underneath his meaty arm before it wraps around her neck, and she feels the tight press of a muzzle on her spine. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his mouth moving silently.
"You slip into your liquid form, I empty the gun inside you," F.R.I.D.A.Y. repeats even as Isabelle struggles against the tight grip of his arm against her neck.
She's just about to chamber her knee and kick his shin when the audio returns in a rush, and a calm unfamiliar voice slices through the rapid pitter-patter of the water sprinkling down from the pipes. "It's alright, Captain. She's the one we've been waiting for."
The Captain roughly turns her around and she breathes as she spots Happy scowling and holding a revolver to a tall stranger's head. "I don't carry tranqs," her friend growls, shoving the man forward. "Let her go."
The Captain doesn't budge until the stranger - tall, bald, in a suit - nods slightly, his face calm even under the threat of having his brains blown out. She feels the arm retract from around her throat, and he shoves her away before she can twist around to grab his gun.
She straightens, her hood rising and looks over at Happy. "Parker?" she asks, willing the adrenaline to cool down. The water sprinklers switch off as the last of the toxin washes out of her system.
Happy shakes his head. "No sign of him. Found this one skulking around the back," he gestures sharply to the tall stranger, whose eyes haven't left hers since he entered the hangar. "He said he wanted to talk to you. Mentioned you by name and everything."
"You… were waiting for me?"
The stranger holds her eyes impassively. "Of course. After all, it was I who uploaded that footage back into the surveillance grid."
"You did not warn us we'd have to take on an Avenger," the Captain tells him crossly, placing the gun back into his hip holster. "The Stasis Device didn't work on her at all."
"Perhaps I should have used the word 'accommodate' instead of 'engage'," the tall man replies. "This entire misunderstanding could've been avoided."
The Captain scowls as he crouches next to his men, checking their vitals and administering what she assumes is the antidote for the dendrotoxin.
She turns to the newcomer. "Who are you? What've you done with Spider-Man?" Isabelle finally places him as the man responsible for leading the company into that abandoned building in the footage F.R.I.D.A.Y. had shown her.
"My name is Enoch Coltrane, and I'm an anthropologist," he replies calmly. "I'll be happy to answer all your questions regarding Peter Parker, but only inside that truck," and he points to the same white vehicle that had appeared in that footage.
"Like hell," Happy growls, tightening his grip on his gun.
Enoch turns to him. "You're quite welcome to keep your weapons at the ready if it provides you comfort. But if you want answers, you'll only find them in there." And he turns around and starts walking to the rear of the hangar without further ado. Happy utters a muffled oath, shoots a questioning glance at her, then struggles to catch up.
Isabelle shoots one last look at the Captain who's ignoring her and muttering to the men he's woken up, then falls behind Happy.
July 15th, 2024
Happy makes F.R.I.D.A.Y. examine the truck for any traps before he allows Isabelle to step foot inside. She doesn't have a problem waiting patiently - he'd been a lot more useful than her so far into the mission. And F.R.I.D.A.Y. had used the time to find further information on their mysterious lead.
When they're finally seated, with the door bolted, Happy immediately shoves a StarkPad at Enoch. The latter glances at the grainy footage for a brief second before turning back to them. "Yes," he answers the unasked question. "I did not realize the record would be so distorted, but it served its purpose well regardless."
"Enoch Coltrane, Professor of Anthropology at NYU," she says, and her voice is cold as ice. "I'm thinking of a lot of unsavory reasons why a professor would want to abduct a seventeen-year-old, and every single one of them would put you in a hole so deep you'd forget what sunlight and fresh air feels like."
Happy picks up the cues she lays out and immediately assumes the position of good cop. "Why did you upload the footage a week after Spider-Man was declared a missing fugitive?"
"Because you were looking for Peter Parker in all the wrong places. You're searching for him in the United North American States, but the fact is that if he had still been here, he'd have long been captured. Secretary Ross' influence reaches far deeper than you could possibly imagine."
There's a strange tightness in her chest. "Where did you take Peter Parker?" Her breath is misting over, but Happy doesn't pay it any heed, his posture stiff, face incensed with rage.
"To the John F. Kennedy International Airport," is the swift reply.
Happy rears back slightly, blinking. "You… where did you take him from there?"
Enoch shakes his head. "I did not accompany him on his travels. I only gave him the necessary false documentation, photostatic veils, and other tools he needed to make his escape and prove his innocence."
"Documentation - like fake passports, visas?" He nods. "Visas to where?"
"Venice; Italy. Prague; the Czech Republic. Berlin; Germany. London, the United Kingdom. I do not know what destinations he chose from those options, nor what other decisions he might've chosen once he reached them."
"The same locations as on his summer field trip itinerary," Happy says, his eyes widening. "You were helping him. Why?"
"Because Peter Parker is essential for the universe's continued survival," he says quietly, and his dark gaze bores into hers until it's all she sees. It's suffocating, an impossible burden like Atlas', but she doesn't break eye contact. "As are you… Isabelle Morgana Stark."
She stiffens, and Happy shoots a startled glance her way. Very few people know her middle name - Peggy Carter had never added it to the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel files Romanoff had eventually dumped onto the internet. For this man, this utter stranger, to know of it…
Before she can ask any further questions, Enoch's watch beeps out an alert, and he looks at it. "We're out of time," he says, and for the first time, a frown mars his features. "I apologize; I did not account for a confrontation between yourself and the men I hired." He reaches into his pockets and withdraws three familiar plastic plug pairs, pushing one inside his ear. "Please, put these on."
"Wait, what…" Happy is interrupted by a muffled bang from outside the truck, and the sound of men shouting.
Isabelle already has her fingers around the bolt, but stills when Enoch makes an aborted motion. "Those are Secretary Ross' men out there," he murmurs, " - and he's brought in reinforcements. You will not be able to take them alone, and even if you do - can you really afford to be a fugitive?"
"How does Ross even know…?" Happy breaks off, his eyes widening. "He caught the footage too."
"It was a risk I was willing to take," he says urgently, staring at her. "Please, put these on."
She hesitates, then nods at Happy and moves to take the plug, but he retracts his fingers slightly. She narrows her eyes, and something ticks at the back of her mind, but the yelling is louder now, more insistent and certainly a lot closer, so she shoves it out of her mind and stretches out her hand. He drops it, being careful not to touch her. She plugs in the pair.
The shouting stops as suddenly as it had started. She takes a deep breath, then slowly unlocks the door and slips out, peering out from the side of the truck for a brief second before relaxing.
"What the hell?" Happy mutters as the three of them walk towards the row of frozen armed figures on the far side of the room, in the center of which is a tall, red-faced familiar figure, his face contorted unpleasantly. They're all still as statues, as though playing an elaborate, bizarre game of Red Light, Green Light.
Enoch's own men are moving about freely, hurriedly packing up their gear and piling into the same white truck she had just exited.
Happy hesitates before waving a hand in front of Thaddeus Ross' face, who doesn't so much as blink in response. He swallows, unnerved.
Isabelle's eyes, however, skip Ross completely to land on another shorter, balding figure slightly at his back, his own motionless fingers curled around a weapon. His expression is intent, but his frozen eyes betray inner displeasure at this entire situation.
"Ross didn't get the footage," she says, staring at Phil Coulson with an ache in her chest that she doesn't want to examine too deeply. "S.H.I.E.L.D. did."
"Sir," the Captain is saying to Enoch, " - are you sure about this?"
"Do not worry about me, Captain," the taller man says impassively, glancing at his watch. "Once again, you have performed your services admirably. But the window closes in nine-point five minutes - you should leave. As should you, Mr. Hogan, Miss Stark. I will remain behind as a distraction."
"You aren't coming with us?" Happy asks, as the Captain steps into the driver's seat of the truck and starts the vehicle. "We still have questions. You've told us nothing about…"
"You'll find what you are hunting in your roots, Isabelle Stark," Enoch says, and it's only because she's so impossibly tuned to this stranger that she even hears the rushed tone of his speech. "Eight and three-quarters of a minute remaining."
She stares at him for a long second, then grabs Happy's arm when he attempts to stalk forward angrily. "We need to go," she tells him with a calm she doesn't feel. He glares at her, then softens at the look on her face. "We need to go, now, Hap."
He grits his teeth, nods, and they rush out of the hangar entrance through which the truck had just exited.
Isabelle spares one last glance at the man inside the hangar who is willing to take a fall for people he barely knows and for reasons she can hardly discern, then turns around and sprints towards the woods.
Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Context:
Enoch Coltrane and his 'camouflage truck' also make an appearance in Season 5 of the series. People who are up to date with the show know exactly who he is, but for those, who don't... well, neither does my character, who will discover the truth in time.
MCU Context:
The Sonic Taser was used by Obadiah Stane to paralyze Tony in Iron Man 1.
A/N: I'm going to keep to weekend updates from now on. The reason I rushed through these eight chapters was that I had to catch up with my A03 account. I'll be posting every Sunday from now, barring any complications. Also, check out my Instagram the_a_i_1502 for fan art I create for every update.