Warnings: Canon-level description of torturous experiments, brainwashing. Mentions of non-consensual drug usage and addiction.
My beta is taking some personal time, so the next few chapters will be self-edited. Any grammatical errors, OOC issues, or convoluted plot shenanigans remain my responsibility. Please leave your comments down below. Hope you get back soon, ElessarII!
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
The Second Coming, W. B. Yeats
January 7th, 2025
The Peak VII
Fury strides across the vast space of the command center, Commander Hill close behind him. "Let me guess - I'm not going to like whatever you're going to say, am I?"
Monica shrugs. "Sorry, chief. But you really need to know about this."
She pulls up a hologram of a space probe orbiting over a familiar red planet. "Our satellites picked up some strange signals over the Promethei Planum. Now, this is pretty common - sometimes there is disturbance from the surface that you just can't account for - but when this anomaly doubled in intensity, I tried associating the signals with other readings; radar sounding of the subsurface, mineralogical surveys."
"What did you find?"
She pulls up graphs, where the peaks of the jagged lines disappear beyond the screen. "Irregular mass concentrations, gravitational and magnetic field shifts. There's no pattern to the fluctuation - it's almost like something down there is malfunctioning."
Fury arches an eyebrow. "Unusual word choice, there, Operative."
"That's because I use it deliberately. Took me a while to get it, but the readings look like some of my systems when they don't work like they're supposed to, or if they've gotten too old to be of any use."
He stares at her. "Let me get this straight - you're suggesting that there's something beneath the surface of Mars that is… mechanical. Run by glitchy operating systems. Something that is… not ours. Not human."
She nods.
He waves a hand. "Talos, send in the scientists from the Lowell outpost to investigate - and deploy reinforcements if they need…" he catches the look on Monica's face. "That's not all, is it?"
She exhales and pulls up some more holographic boards, each one displaying a high-res image of the surface. "Chief… we aren't the only ones who caught the anomaly."
They all flinch as Fury swears.
June 4th, 2025
The Quinjet
Somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean
"Finally," F.R.I.D.A.Y. exclaims as Isabelle activates the auto-pilot. "Thought you were gonna cleave the Jet in half; the way you were flying."
"You're not any happier about the detour, either."
"I'm not taking it out on the plane."
She rubs her brow. "Make the call, please."
It connects almost immediately, and Coulson's face pops up on the screen. "Making progress, I hope," he says by way of greeting. His face looks calm, but there's a readiness to his expression that tells her immediately that he's been anticipating a negative reaction.
"Ten hours from destination, Director," she says tightly. "I'd really like to know why I've been redirected to north-eastern Africa instead of assisting in DC. Troops down there could use my help."
"Rhodes has it handled here, Collins," he says, and his voice is almost soft. "Besides, I needed a specialist for this mission. Might be a big one."
"Bigger than a battle deciding the fate of the Second Civil War?" She arches an eyebrow. "Say what you mean, Coulson - you don't want me involved in political spheres, not after Manswell's Ark, definitely not after Venice."
He snorts. "Sure, Ross hasn't forgotten about you. But forget politics; this thing I'm sending you to investigate has the potential to become global." He forwards her a file.
"Erich Paine," she reads from the dossier, pulling up an image of a blond, blue-eyed man. "Former HYDRA eugenics specialist. Specializes in controlled genetic and chemical mutations, psychological lobotomies, and - " Her stomach roils as she skims through the rest of the information, " - worked with Strucker and List on the Sceptre."
Coulson nods. "He quit the project before the Avengers invaded the Sokovia base. Stayed hidden from S.H.I.E.L.D. by jumping continents."
"But recent intelligence has us believe he's in Niganda - enjoying political amnesty with the Prime Minister, probably in exchange for… favors. Niganda is claiming ignorance, and I'm disinclined to believe them, for obvious reasons."
Isabelle is starting to put the pieces together.
Located next to the technologically superior nation of Wakanda, the so-called Democratic Republic of Niganda is anything but - ruled by a self-appointed despot who is known to be brutal and violent towards his own subjects as it is. S.H.I.E.L.D. has long suspected the country's military of having secret ties with Nazis - which would explain how the Treehouse had fallen so easily during the HYDRA uprising.
None of these features endeared Wakanda to their neighbors. Centuries of hostilities have been maintained between the two countries, stemming from disputes over farming rights of the richest soil on that side of the continent - the Alkama Fields.
"We can't act against Paine without probable cause; M'Butu -," she points out, referring to the Prime Minister of Niganda, " - will take it as an act of war if he sees foreigners, especially Avengers, on his turf."
"That's why I'm pursuing another line of investigation," Coulson says, then sighs. "Four months ago, the Circle crashed in the border mountains of Niganda while operating on a skeleton crew."
She purses her lips. "Damage? Casualties?"
"My spies recovered the secondary flight recorder a few miles away from the presumed crash site. Logs tell us there was a ship-wide system failure and all sixty operatives died on impact."
"Seems pretty straightforward, then."
Coulson's expression is flat. "Two days ago, my techs received the signal corresponding to the primary flight recorder. It's pretty strong, which makes me wonder why we didn't catch it before. But Wakanda isn't letting us dig deeper."
Not surprising.
The Circle; headquarters to Wakanda's own intelligence-gathering organization known as S.P.E.A.R., born - as with W.A.N.D. - out of necessity initiated by the Decimation. Unlike the Castle, though, the Circle is almost exclusively manned by Wakandans and has adopted an unsurprising - characteristic, really - policy of isolationism.
There are only a handful of the original agents still working at the Circle, most having been kicked out after T'Challa took back the throne.
But S.P.E.A.R. is still a part of S.H.I.E.L.D., and for T'Challa to deny them an investigation despite strong evidence for foul play? "You think the Circle going down is somehow connected to Erich Paine's presence in Niganda."
He shrugs. "S.P.E.A.R. was working on some proprietary tech; if Paine gets his hands on it…" He just shakes his head, looking troubled.
She has learned to read between the lines with Coulson, but in this particular situation, some blanks continue to be unfilled. "T'Challa doesn't know you're sending me, does he?"
There's a reason she hasn't been sent on many specialist missions in the last decade. Being an Avenger has its disadvantages, and she is - unfortunately - instantly recognizable all over the world. The Battle of Wakanda against Thanos would still linger in the minds of its people, who would immediately associate her with T'Challa if they spotted her.
Which begs the question - why is she here?
Was it because she was already in the air, and the Director was just trying to conserve resources?
Or does his reasoning go deeper?
Coulson seems to realize that she has found the holes in his plan, but nothing in his demeanor suggests he's going to fill her in. She grits her teeth but stays silent. "If there's a war, Wakanda will win - easily - but T'Challa doesn't want to put his people through that," is all he says. "But just because he's unwilling to act doesn't mean I'm going to let my people get hurt."
"Sweep for survivors and recover what data you can. Run silent, stay silent. Find out what Paine is up to; engage only if -," he rolls his eyes, " - right, I forgot who I was speaking with; just try not to make too much noise, please." He nods once. "Good luck, and safe travels, Collins." The line cuts off.
Isabelle stares at the screen, then flicks it away and runs a hand down her face. "DC status report?"
"Reports of secessionists shelling the Potomac Plaza, only to be thwarted by the War Machine are coming in… no offense, skipper, but we're going to win this, with or without you."
She laughs wetly. But F.R.I.D.A.Y. isn't done.
"Boss Lady sent something that might cheer you up," the A.I. says, and the gentle whir of the synthesizer cabin opening makes her look up.
She heads towards the cylindrical fabricator and brings up the design schematics Pepper had mailed. A projection of a simple, but thick wristband appears, hovering. She hesitates before slipping it on.
"It was one of Boss' last designs, inspired by the Director's prosthetic hand and the Wakandan Kimoyo beads," F.R.I.D.A.Y. says softly. "An all-purpose diagnostic and comm device, combined with a computer microframe, mini-fabricator, and a sensor analysis pack. Completely holographic, except for the band, of course."
As she watches, the band suddenly glows bright orange, and a projection pops out of it. The hologram reminds her of a gauntlet, with the exception of the palm, which has been replaced by a disc-shaped structure. She circles it with tentative fingers, and a tilted holographic screen with a keyboard materializes from the glove component of the projection.
"Boss Lady tried to eliminate the gauntlet design, but the Board loved it, so she had the Science Division revise the finger projections instead."
Yeah, she doesn't think she can handle any gesture-dependent process that requires her to snap her fingers.
"It's bio-linked to your signature; where you go, I'll follow."
Isabelle snorts. Of course, it is; Pepper is sick and tired of having her disappear or end up almost dead. This is as much a gift as a way to keep track of her. "What else can it do?"
"What do you want it to do?"
"... remote access to target weapon systems and armor…"
"...maximizing stopping power through electroshock application…"
"... What about flammable gases?"
"… maybe snap-freeze. Redundant on most occasions, but in case I find myself on another planet without any access to water…"
"... super-cooled subatomic particles; you won't be able to…"
It's when she's quietly watching the fabricator manufacture the band that it strikes her. "F.R.I.D.A.Y… what the hell is this thing anyway?"
"... Boss called it an 'omni-tool'."
Birnin Kashin
The Alkama Fields
Isabelle crouches in the underbrush, keeping her eyes on the barn. It wouldn't be long now.
F.R.I.D.A.Y. had traced the ultrasound of the flight recorder to this village lying smack-dab on the border between the two countries, which is the main reason why agents on the ground hadn't been able to get it.
The last farmer leaves for the night, locking up behind him. She waits a few more minutes, before making her way to the tall double doors. Water buckets and troughs lie beneath shuttered windows, and she peaks in to check that it's empty. She breaks in, the doors sliding open noiselessly, then slips inside.
Horses, cows, mules - all held behind stalls with simple latches - greet her, their bleary eyes fixed on her. Bales of nose-tickling, but clean yellow hay are stacked neatly against rough wooden walls holding bridles and horse leads.
The cows rub themselves on wooden posts as she makes her way to an empty pen, crouches, and digs through clumps of straw. Her fingers snag on something hard, and she tugs it out. The bright orange of the recorder is a stark contrast in the desaturated colors of the barn. Her omni-tool's scanner washes over the device, as she downloads the recorded data for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to analyze and structure.
Isabelle listens to the animals whinnying and stomping their feet while she waits for F.R.I.D.A.Y. 's simulation. It doesn't take long. She plays the video.
The giant ring of the Circle lists dangerously; the four remaining massive thrusters failing to compensate for the damaged ones. There's another explosion, propelling the structure towards the border mountains of Niganda, and despite the best efforts of the crew onboard, it crashes hard, and the whole thing explodes into a giant ball of fire and metal.
The screen tells her that there are no survivors.
She closes her eyes, a cold lump in her stomach. "Any luck finding the crash site?"
"Still scouring."
"Keep trying. We still don't know what exactly caused the system failure." Isabelle scrubs her face harshly. She hates being assigned to recovery ops. More often than not, the missions have failed even before they ever began.
She rises. "I'm going to canvas the area; see if the locals know any…" her words stutter to a stop.
When did the animals fall silent?
"Skipper?"
She feels the hairs on her neck prickle, and slowly backs out of the pen and turns to face the entrance. "Stand-by," she orders quietly, staring at the dark figures, silhouetted by an eerie red light.
She hadn't even heard them coming in.
She raises a hand. "I apologize for breaking in, but I just wanted to get something of mine," she shakes the recorder.
There's no answer for a long moment. Then one steps forward, and the moonlight throws his bloodshot eyes into sharp relief. "You're not Wakandan," he says. He has no discernible accent.
Something cold slithers down her spine. The horses whine uneasily. "No," she says cautiously, but it's an opportunity that's pretty much been gift-wrapped for her, and she's not going to waste it. "But they did send me," she lies.
It's a mistake. The leader nods, and it's almost sardonic, as though he doesn't believe her for a second, but he's going to play along anyway. Isabelle stiffens as he turns to the others. "She will do," he says, and all hell breaks loose.
They rush towards her all at once. The hood of her stealth suit snaps shut as she leaps into action. She smashes the recorder onto one's head, ducking beneath a meaty hand and retaliates with a hard punch that sends another reeling. She twists, sweeps out her legs, and another one tumbles.
She jumps up, exchanges a flurry of blows, counter-attacking with sharp jabs and punches, but they seem to recover quickly, far too quickly. Her mind is at the verge of a major realization, but before she can grab the thought, someone grabs her from behind.
The attacker goes to slam her into a wall, but she runs up and flips backward from the surface, righting herself as she lands, then brings up a leg to kick at his back. Grabbing a lead rope hanging from a hook, she tosses it, and it catches around his neck.
She forces his head backward, and his fingers scrabble at the rope as he stumbles. Isabelle sends her victim reeling into the side of another. They both crash through an enclosure, agitating the horse, who neighs and rears, her hooves descending hard on their heads.
Isabelle dives out of the way as the horse bolts out.
"Enough!" A voice bellows, and her head snaps up to the leader, who's just picking himself up from a bale of hay. He snarls and makes a forceful gesture with his palm splayed open.
She's lifted clean off her feet and goes slamming into the wall.
She strikes her head against something hard, tumbles to the ground. The world is spinning, but she groans and pushes herself upright, only one word ringing in her head.
Telekinesis.
Her mind clears, sharpening into a cold, deadly focus that only ever accompanies her missions as an Avenger, not a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. It's not the first time one has bled into another, and it's starting to irk just how often it happens.
She launches herself into the fray with renewed fervor, her strikes precise, controlled. Their abilities have a cooldown period, she realizes soon - and she times her own attacks in the gaps. The wild, frenzied animals give her another idea - she lets them loose, using the stampede as a distraction to dispatch the last two goons until only the leader is left.
The barn is empty now except for the two of them. He steps into the shadows, and just for an instant, when the moonlight from the open doors fails to find him, a strange aura wavers around his silhouette, like thin lightning bolts of red.
The vision is like a punch to the throat.
Isabelle has seen it before, on a woman whose destiny has been intertwined with hers for decades. Now, with the benefit of foresight, she can see that while Wanda Maximoff has been indirectly responsible for all of her nightmares - ULTRON, the Civil War, Thanos - Maximoff herself had turned out the way she had only because of hers and her brother's actions.
The distraction lasts only a moment, but it's enough. She is unable to dodge his next telekinetic attack in time.
The red, swirling field tears through her form, and she yells as it hoists and bends her over backward. A powerful wave of water radiates outward as she loses control, and distantly, she hears a thud.
Her fingers curve into claws as the field incinerates her insides and grinds her bones together. She coughs up blood, feeling a similar wetness trickle from her eyes and nose.
"Rapidly fluctuating gravitational fields that are unraveling your molecular bonds." The A.I.'s voice crackles through the earpiece, helpless, almost panicked. "The effect is fading, though; just hold it together."
Isabelle hadn't known when she was well off with the Snap, because that had at least been painless, quick. She only realizes the field has broken when her body smashes to the ground, shuddering from the aftershocks. The straw is wet, and there's still some water leftover in the suit, so she rapidly absorbs it all; it's barely enough to calm her wildly yo-yoing molecules.
She pushes herself to her trembling feet, watching as the leader does the same. Her knee-jerk response to his attack had thrown him clear across the barn into the back wall, and he must've hit his head on the steel bridle because he shakes it twice before his bloodshot eyes are able to lock onto hers.
They circle each other, each trying to catch their breath. His eyes are wary now, narrowed in focus, and his intent gaze makes adrenaline flare in her veins, expelling the last of the shakiness from her bones.
Breaking the stand-off, she rushes towards him, but he's faster. He leaps, grabs onto an overhead bar, and swings, his feet connecting with her chest. She cries out as she hits the floorboards, but pulls herself up just in time to avoid getting stomped on.
Ducking under his punch, she immobilizes his arm, then kicks him across the stomach. He grunts and bends over, and she shoves him towards the wall. He's much better trained than she expects though because he just uses the momentum to flip sideways from the wall.
She swings, her kick whipping him across the face, then dodges his attacks to retaliate with lightning-fast strikes to his solar plexus, then lifts him and tosses him to the ground. He recovers quickly, kicking out her hand when she reaches towards her holstered gun. Growling, she drops to the ground, sweeps out her leg, then rights herself, grabs a shovel, and swings it at his head.
He crumples like a sack of potatoes.
She whips out her pistol and shoots thrice, just for good measure.
Isabelle exhales shakily as the fight drains from her bones, slumping against a wooden post. She drops the gun, runs a violently trembling hand down her face. Her molecules still feel like they're about to shatter; for a moment, she imagines dragging herself to the river nearby, and just… letting go for a few hours.
Her pleasant reverie is interrupted by a muffled thud from the entrance, and an icy fist snaps up before her head does, eyes locking onto the silhouetted figure on the approach. "Consider carefully before taking another step," she snarls.
The muscular figure doesn't move. "I had a sorta bet going with myself; last person I'd expect to respond to my signal," a familiar voice says. "Gotta say, you weren't on the list."
Isabelle blinks, pushes herself away from the post. Her fists are still raised as she walks forward, just until she can make out the blood-stained, and yet nevertheless familiar armor. "Wilson?!"
Sam Wilson steps forward, posture casual, but she can tell that his combat goggles are tracking her every move. "Does that mean I gotta pay up to myself?" he wonders, his words just as casual, but then his fingers flex to the twin pistols holstered at his side. "How does that work, exactly?"
"Maybe don't make bets with yourself next time?" is all she says, finally, after struggling with and discarding various responses. He has a distinct advantage over her because she's still trying to fit in his presence here while he's already had time to adapt to it. But then the rest of his words register. "Wait, your signal?"
He nods to the discarded flight recorder. "Couldn't get to the data, so I rigged it up to broadcast, hoped the delay would clue in someone. Stakeout was a little longer than expected. Shuri returned from Birnin T'Chaka then, to send you?"
"Just an excuse I used." Her eyes narrow. "Could've used the assist, since you were close enough."
He shrugs, the moonlight throwing his features into sharp relief. "More bad guys were attacking the village. Had to make a choice. Don't regret it, especially 'cause you handled it."
Wilson walks over to the Enhanced leader, head tilted. "Future tip: better to surprise them before they surprise you."
"What the hell are they?"
"Whoever sent you didn't tell you much, did they?" He removes his goggles, turns around, his dark eyes falling on the eagle-shaped logo with a grimace. "S.H.I.E.L.D.," he mutters disdainfully. "Well, I did figure it was a lose-lose situation."
"Locals call them 'demon spirits'," he says before she can retort. "Enhanced, telekinetic, run real hot on IR sensors."
Her brow clears. "You were on the Circle."
He nods, eyes distant. "Shakedown run to test some of the new upgrades. Didn't end the way we hoped."
"We didn't know about them," she says finally. There's a cold chill running down her spine, and Coulson's evasiveness has been at the forefront of her mind since the beginning. "I was just sent to find out what blew up the Circle."
Wilson's eyes widen. "Blew up…?"
Just then, Isabelle's speaker crackles in her ear. "Skipper," F.R.I.D.A.Y. says, and her voice is deceptively quiet.
"I found it."
June 5th, 2025
Wakandan Southern Border
The Circle had carved new avalanche paths on its way down the craggy, boulder-ridden slopes of the border mountains. One sector of the ring is utterly crushed; the only thing that remains are sparking wires poking out of mangled metal beams - and, and yet, the damage isn't nearly as bad as the simulations had indicated.
This is an entirely survivable crash.
"What are you getting?" Isabelle asks. Her feet scuffle against the scree and wildflowers dotting the trail that meanders downwards to the crash site. The moon was starting to give away to the pink-tinted dawn, but some stars still glitter in the sky.
"Localized power signatures from certain areas; far weaker than expected. Two thrusters are offline. Whatever systems are left are running on triaged power."
Isabelle closes her eyes. "It wasn't a crash. It was a crash-landing."
"... that presumption mostly corroborates the data from my scans."
Flight recorder simulations are, by definition, not completely accurate, but for them to be so off-base? It can only mean one thing - external interference.
She glances at her companion, whose mouth is set in a grim line. "Explain this in a way that makes sense to me."
Wilson's silent for a long moment. When he finally speaks, there's a clear hint of accusation in his tone. "Your S.P.E.A.R. agents staged a coup against the Wakandans working at the Circle. Attempted to gain access to the Circle's primary functions, but something went very wrong with the engines and they couldn't control it."
Everything in him screams of contempt, but she's getting the faintest hint of tension hiding beneath it. "Had to be more than that," she says quietly. "What aren't you telling me, Wilson?"
After a long pause, he sighs. "Ah, what the hell. Six months ago, Princess Shuri discovered something new."
She straightens, feels something cold settle in her stomach. "Like what, new tech?"
He meets her gaze squarely. "Mineral. Might even put vibranium to shame. Circle scientists used it to perform… miracles I can't even begin to describe - medicinal, technological."
"And T'Challa decided to keep it all to himself."
Sounds like a familiar story.
Despite T'Challa's well-meaning intentions, the United Nations hadn't been all that pleased with his exposé on Wakanda's secret weapon, despite his insistence on considering 'all people as one single tribe'. Everett Ross' sarcastic rants had suggested that as far as the UN was concerned, Wakanda had abandoned the rest of the world to its chaotic fate for millennia, and T'Challa's effort was too little, too late.
The young king clearly hadn't learned his lesson as well as he thought he did, and she can feel the shift in the air that always preludes the awareness of history repeating itself.
Her eyes cut to the source of her wariness. "S.P.E.A.R. agents staged a coup because they were being forced to not report back to Coulson," she guesses. "Probably threatened too. And you still blame them."
His eyes flash. "I was trying to help. Tried to mediate the situation, asked them to wait for me to find a workaround. Instead, they went behind my back; made it worse. So, yeah, I blame them."
It's rich, she thinks bitterly, that he's blaming others for making a situation worse while he'd tried to alleviate it. Not that she'd expect Sam Wilson of all people to see the parallels between his actions at the Circle, and Tony's during the Civil War.
But her bitterness bleeds away at the self-loathing on his face. "Blame me too," he admits, grimacing. "Should've been stronger, smarter… faster."
Isabelle swallows. She knows what he's remembering - the only thing they have in common. They both have nightmares about loved ones falling to their deaths.
"When I came to after the crash," he continues, " - scientists had already infiltrated and imprisoned everyone. Somehow they didn't find me, and I couldn't get anyone else out, so I escaped."
Isabelle pulls up an image on her omni-tool. "You see this guy among the scientists?" she points to the malicious gaze of Erich Paine. Her question is answered when Wilson's face tightens in a poisonous mixture of guilt and hatred. "I'm assuming he had something to do with these 'demon spirits'."
He nods. "Paine tried to replicate Shuri's medical breakthrough. But his experiments.. backfired, created some kind of euphoriant. Used it on his own men. Red eyes, glowing teeth, powers allowing them to throw a man ten feet away with their minds."
"And the flight recorder?"
He shrugs. "Took me a while to figure out no one was coming to look for us. So I snuck in last week, made my way to the bridge, wrenched out the flight recorder, but they caught me. It's where I lost my wings," he says, pointing to the mangled remnants of his suit. "They probably must've tampered with the recorder, made it show that huge explosion so no one would risk a recovery."
Isabelle sighs, turns away and runs her hand down her face. Her mission parameters have changed; this is a rescue op now. But sixty operatives, give or take those who didn't survive the crash or the occupation. How is she getting them out?
She walks a bit further, staring at the Circle. She can spot only one visible entrance - an opening at one of the oblong tower-like structures kept half-open by a malfunctioning panel. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., what caused widespread system failure?"
"Best guess? Their power core overloaded."
"So… if provided with an alternative power source, the Circle should start up?"
"... sure. Until the strain on the remaining functional thrusters is too much and it crashes, again. I don't like where your mind is heading."
That brings a slight smile to her face. "How long will it stay up in the air before the thrusters fail?"
F.R.I.D.A.Y. makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a defeated sigh. "I'd wager about fifteen minutes."
She returns to Wilson and works her jaw for a moment. "My mission was to recover the flight recorder, figure out what Erich Paine was up to, and get the hell out before anyone caught me. My mission… just got a lot more complicated." She sighs. "I am gonna need your help, and your trust, because I can't do this alone."
"Do what?"
Isabelle smiles grimly. "We're gonna take back the Circle."
"The Director said you can't be seen."
She flicks on the switches on the ceiling above the pilot's seat, glancing at the readouts on the display. "That ship is gonna sail sooner or later, F.R.I.D.A.Y." Her fingers fly over the holographic screens. "I'd rather steer the rudder myself than have someone else do it."
Her co-pilot grunts as he adjusts his headset, glancing at the controls. "Now I know why the Wakandans call this technology 'primitive'."
"I take offense to that." F.R.I.D.A.Y. says just before the engines roar to life and the Quinjet takes off. The view of the mountains, lit by the warm glow of sunrise, is breathtakingly magnificent, but her gaze is fixed on the Circle leaning against steep rocks and boulders of the valley.
She makes her way to the tower she'd spotted earlier. It's one of the least damaged portions, and she heads towards the opening barely large enough for the Quinjet to pass through. The panel is stuck halfway through, so she accelerates and rams into it.
Even a vibranium reinforced metal can't withstand the force of a four-hundred thousand pound Quinjet. She's thrown forward, her body straining against the seatbelts.
Behind her, the overhead compartments bang open, and something tumbles and shatters, but she doesn't bother looking as she yanks at the joystick. The landing gear screeches as it skids along the darkened, narrow hangar. The nose comes inches from crashing into the back wall before finally halting.
She takes a few deep breaths, then unstraps herself and heads to the back of the Jet, towards the fabricator cabin. Prompted by her approach, a narrow panel slides open on the wall, and delicate mechanical arms emerge, cradling a flat cylindrical object with a brightly glowing core.
Isabelle stares at it for a long moment, her throat thick. Part of her feels like she's tearing off a piece of her soul by doing this, but she can see no other way to liberate the Circle.
Steeling herself, she wraps slender fingers around the spare arc reactor and yanks it out.
Containment Laboratory
The Circle
A few hours earlier…
Erich Paine shrugs into the hospital gown his assistants hold out for him. The screen in front of him transcribes everything he's recording.
"... but I have finally cracked Princess Shuri's medical breakthrough, and I'm confident enough to pursue the risk of self-experimentation."
Jana is preparing the general anesthesia. "You better be sure about this," his head neurosurgeon says as he settles down at the operating table. He just nods determinedly.
"The Wakandans are notably resistant to sedatives; indeed, chemicals of any kind. But the S.P.E.A.R. agents possess no such immunity. After months of experimentation, I've managed to whittle down their will using a combination of induced, regulated addiction via spinal implants and the Faustus re-education technique. These will be my vanguard force to present to M'Butu, in exchange for more specimens."
"Despite failures," he continues recording. "I've found that even cadavers can be valuable. Autopsies have revealed much about how the drug - which the locals have tentatively named 'red sand'; a particularly apt name considering just where it has been derived from - interacts with brain tissue and the nervous system."
"Initial results from vivisections seem promising, but I can't help feeling that I'm missing a key component, a control subject against which to try further trials. In lieu of other options, will try using the Asset as a control subject."
He exhales deeply to calm his racing heart. The calculations are solid… this will work.
"Surgery should take no more than five hours, and estimates suggest a three-day recovery; the trials on the locals will continue under the guidance of Dr. Waycross during that time period."
He nods to Jana then and closes his eyes when he feels the first prick of the syringe at his vein.
Come tomorrow, Erich will have a brand-new, and well-deserved lease on life.
MCU CONTEXT
Treehouse
The Treehouse was briefly mentioned in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. as a base that was overtaken by HYDRA during the Uprising. They have never mentioned it again.
So I decided to use it in my fic as the North-Eastern African Headquarters. I like to think S.H.I.E.L.D. was keeping an eye on Wakanda, even when the latter was pretending to be a third-world country.
COMICS CONTEXT
Erich Paine and M'Butu
In the comics, Paine used to experiment on mutants (from X-Men), before heading to Niganda and demoted to experimenting on animals instead. He has a connection to M'Butu, the Prime Minister of Niganda as well. I derived a lot of elements from that comic series as well.
I fleshed out his backstory to fit in with the world I'm building.
S.P.E.A.R.
In the comics, the full form is 'Specialized Personnel for Eradication and Removal'. I'm probably gonna change it just like I did with S.W.O.R.D.
S.P.E.A.R. was actually a Chinese intelligence-gathering organization. But, I wanted to include Wakanda in this fic and I wanted to make S.P.E.A.R. a division of S.H.I.E.L.D. Besides, spears are more of a Wakandan thing, no?
The Circle is their HQ. Flying base, like the Helicarrier.
Demon Spirits
In the comics, these were Wakandans exposed to raw vibranium. The scientific term is 'Vibranium Mutates'. They went insane.
In my fic, I just used the term cuz it sounded cool and it fit with where I'm taking this.
MASS EFFECT CONTEXT
Promethei Planum
South polar region of Mars. Seasonally covered with a very thick layer of ice (not in my fic though). Super relevant in Mass Effect canon; will be explored in the upcoming chapters.
Lowell Outpost
I mentioned this earlier as humanity's first extraplanetary outpost on Mars. There's one on the moon too.
Second Civil War
Again, mentioned before. In this fic, this started when secessionists blew up the Statue of Liberty and tried to destroy Manswell's Ark. Yeah, in-world, that was a couple of years ago, but for us, it's only been months since those first chapters.
The Battle of Washington is the last battle in this war. In my fic, Rhodes has been deployed by the Air Force to make sure the UNAS win (and they will - spoilers;) )
Omni-Tool
This is to Mass Effect what the One Ring was to Lord of the Rings. The symbol of the future that the video game series represents.
A communication device, scanner, melee weapon all rolled into one. F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s definition of the omni-tool has been directly taken from Mass Effect wiki (honestly I couldn't do any better). The basic structure looks a hell of a lot like a Gauntlet, which was a treat to explore. An exciting, symbolic yet horrifying parallel that I couldn't help but point out.
I've also included definitions of some tech powers that players employ in the games.
1. Sabotage - overloads target weapons and armor.
2. Overload - basically a glorified taser; targets electronics
3. Incinerate - burns targets to a crisp. Can be combined with Overload for BOOM!
4. Cryo-Blast - freezes targets. Can be combined with Overload for SHATTER!
I was very excited to include the omni-tool. Such a versatile gameplay element. The scanner doesn't really exist in the original trilogy, just in Mass Effect: Andromeda, but I felt that was such an awesome tool, I decided to include it.
I decided that Tony Stark designed the omni-tool in my fic. I couldn't help but find parallels between the Kimoyo beads displayed in Black Panther movie and Coulson's Prosthetic Hand.
Red Sand
A euphoriant drug, gives temporary telekinesis. Side effects - glowing teeth, bloodshot eyes.
Fans of Mass Effect know exactly what this drug is, and where it comes from ;) I'm getting so close to finally addressing what the summary of this fic suggested - the event you've all been waiting for. Just a few more chapters, folks!