A/N: I have referenced the Asgardians in the last chapter - with the connection between Uru and the mass relays. It seems to have foreshadowed - for you and me because I did not anticipate where this chapter went - their cameo appearance in this and the next few chapters as well.
My initial outline did not take them into account, but I like their involvement, especially because this fic does draw heavily on Norse myths. MCU canon has taken extreme liberties with existing legends, so shall I. Not to worry - I'll be providing all the context that might be necessary, along with any backstory that might not be mentioned in the main body of the fic.
So I request you not to be surprised and thrown off by their appearance. Rest assured, their existence will make sense eventually.
Also, I've changed my title summary to better reflect the slow ride of this fic, and how far it has already taken us.
"Slumber, watcher, till the spheres
Six and twenty thousand years
Have revolv'd, and I return
To the spot where now I burn.
Other stars anon shall rise
To the axis of the skies;
Stars that soothe and stars that bless
With a sweet forgetfulness:
Only when my round is o'er
Shall the past disturb thy door."
- Rhyme of Polaris; H.P. Lovecraft
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - EARTH STANDARD
Alliance Charter Signed!
August 1st, 2026
By Amita Qasid
VANCOUVER, UNAS - History was made today when eighteen of the world's largest nations ratified the Systems Alliance Charter. A symbolic political body to defend expanding territory, the Alliance represents a united human front.
The various nations have also pooled their military resources to form the Systems Alliance Military, a decision that comes under much scrutiny from various quarters…
August 13th, 2026
Stark Residence, Georgia
The colorful gravel on the rocky shoreline scrapes her bare feet, which are immediately soothed by the silky, cool waves splashing around her shins. Sunshine glints off the smooth mirror of the lake, broken by the reflections of the trees that bow over the surface as though peering into the deeps for truths beyond Isabelle's comprehension.
It's the most beautiful sight she's seen in what seems like an eternity.
Morgan grumbles at the familiar clack of a fishing line being reeled in. "You were the one who said you didn't want me to go easy on you," Isabelle murmurs, unhooking the frantic trout and breaking its neck with one clean twist.
"I didn't think you'd cheat!"
"This isn't like playing cards, baby bird - you can't cheat. Either you're good at it or you…," she changes tack at the ferocious scowl aimed at her, " - keep going until you get better."
Morgan glares at her bucket, which isn't as empty as most beginners usually end up with, but it's not something she wants to hear. Overachieving is a Stark trait. "This isn't a competition," Isabelle assures. "Baby steps; you'll get there."
"That's not the point. You're hydrokinetic; you have the advantage here."
She cocks an eyebrow. "I'm Aquamarine, Morgan H. Stark, not Aquaman. I can't talk to fish. I can, however, fish."
She blinks. "Oh," she says, sheepishly rubbing her neck. "Well, I just thought since you're…" she struggles to put her comic situation into words that wouldn't sting.
Isabelle takes pity on her. "... so terrible at literally anything approaching a normal life, I had to have been telepathically communicating with freshwater creatures to be successful at catching them?"
"You are terrible, aren't you?" Morgan muses then squirms and laughs when Isabelle tickles her. "Mommy's still not happy about the kitchen."
Isabelle winces. The scorch marks glare accusingly every time she walks through the patio door. "Or the vegetable garden." She hadn't even known they had an alpaca, let alone one named Gerald that liked goji berries a little too much.
"Or the wheelbarrow." Perhaps they should just rename it to barrow, because its wheels - well, they were at the bottom of the very lake she'd been admiring. "So, this is your first successful attempt at 'normal'," she glances at Isabelle's pile of trout.
"Pretty much."
Morgan holds her eyes for a long moment. "It's not a competition, Auntie M," she repeats quietly. "It matters that you're trying."
Auntie M. Aunt Morgana.
A reminder - not of their very first disastrous interaction; no, Morgan's not that cruel. It's a reminder of connection; a name passed down, binding them, not only to each other - but to Maria Carbonell, to Venice, to the water.
Isabelle's throat closes up.
Seized by sudden cowardice, she'd holed up in the Mansion after Charon. Alone, in an empty house so haunted with ghosts she'd been afraid she was becoming one. She'd lasted four days.
The surprised pleasure on Pepper's face when she'd come knocking had been more than worth it. Morgan… had been harder to reach.
She clears her throat. "You think we have enough for Peter's pan-fry?"
"More than," Morgan nods, reaching out to untangle a frizzy spool of fishing line caught in the rocks. "Nonna Maria must've been a good teacher."
Precocious, too. "The best." Isabelle pushes herself to her feet, picks up her rolled blanket and the bucket. The grass sticks to her bare ankles as they head towards the house. "She didn't think I'd make a very good Venetian without knowing how to fish."
A thought occurs to her. "Hey, here's an idea," she says, grinning.
"Want to go ice skating in the fall?"
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - EARTH STANDARD
Mother of Exiles Welcomes Visitors!
August 27th, 2026
By Amita Qasid
NEW YORK, EARTH - The new Statue of Liberty is open to the public. Constructed using approximately one-tenth of the copper-plating of the original, the rebuilt monument is a result of an executive order signed by then-President Robert Kelly, following the original's destruction at the onset of the Second Civil War.
This development, however, serves as a sharp reminder of the unknown fate of its predecessor. In the chaos of the Battle of Washington, the head of the original, destroyed by the very same secessionists shelling the Potomac Plaza, went missing. The culprit is still at large, and authorities are looking into the involvement of the Freedoms First.
"She's the symbol of the start and the end of the war," Brigadier General James Rhodes said to a spokesperson this morning. "We'll do everything we can to find her."
September 1st, 2026
SSV Sokovia ER-1
Gagarin Station
Glenn Talbot's voice is scratchy through the comm system. "Command access of Systems Alliance Space Vehicle Sokovia Exploratory Reconnaissance-1, transferring successfully to Director Phil Coulson."
Phil can almost hear him rolling his eyes at the mouthful. He looks pointedly at Monica Rambeau, who sheepishly clears the feed. "Acknowledged, Major," he says, swiping at his omni-tool. "Sokovia, all stations report."
"Science and monitoring systems reporting in. Everything's clear."
"Factory fresh across the board, Director," Engineering pipes up. "Spinning up the compensators."
"Helm is green," Alec Ryder, the co-pilot, announces. Phil's instincts had seen something in him, but he hadn't wanted to bring in unknown elements on this mission until Ryder had been green-lit by both the Major and Fury. "Drive core is online and secure. The Sokovia checks out."
Phil nods, wishing that his ship, the very first to pass through the Charon relay, was named anything else. But S.H.I.E.L.D., per instructions from S.W.O.R.D., had insisted on inverting the unfortunate connotations of the word, and the fledgling Alliance had agreed, so here Phil is, lending his not-inconsiderable luck to a name that had destroyed so many lives in so many different ways.
"Gagarin Control, this is SSV Sokovia, ident seven-six, seven-two, prepping for depart," Monica says dutifully, flicking switches and glancing at the readouts.
"Departure trajectory verified, Sokovia," Talbot replies, after a brief pause.
Then, softer, " - Good luck, Phil. "
"Appreciate it, Glenn." Phil nods at his pilot. "Hit it, Operative."
Beyond the viewscreen, the freighter rises, aiming for the mass relay.
"The Charon relay is in range. Everyone stand-by."
There's no sound except for the hum of the ship beneath their feet and the habitual beeping of the systems running to keep them all from being ejected into the vacuum. Charon looms before them, massive and breathtakingly beautiful. The spinning rings are awash with the glow of the eezo cores, stark in the blackness of space.
"Initiating transmission sequence… we are connected," Monica confirms, alert and eager. Phil wishes he could be that steady; sweat is beading at his forehead and his heart is in his throat.
"Calculating mass transit and destination for the approach corridor… Signal acknowledged… The relay is hot… Acquiring approach vector."
The basics of mass effect physics are easy to understand with a little suspension of disbelief. But now that he's confronted with the reality of it, he has a sudden urge to run. He clamps down on it; not least because of which there is nowhere to run, but also because it's not the first time he's beaten impossible odds.
"All stations secure for transit," Ryder orders, fingers flying rapidly across the holograms. The Sokovia shudders beneath them.
He can almost feel the crew holding their collective breath. A superstitious belief that if they so much as twitched an eyebrow, something would go disastrously wrong. He couldn't blame them. He felt the same.
"The board is green. Approach run has begun."
The relay is somehow, impossibly bigger. Impossible odds, yes; this entire trip might very well have those. Isn't that why he'd been voted to carry out this mission? Because he'd defied death itself?
An achievement that rings hollow when shared with half of the universe.
"Hitting the relay in 3… 2… 1…"
Fighting against every instinct in his body, Phil keeps his eyes wide open as the relay shoots a beam of light at the ship and slings it across space.
Sokovia shudders and groans beneath his feet as they are propelled through a corridor of blue-white streams of energy. The pilots yell at them to brace, eyes tracking almost every system, compensating for power surges and overloads and other unanticipated disasters.
Just when he feels his heart about to give up, the ship slams to a stop. The glow of the corridor gives away to the sheer blackness of space, lit by a thousand stars. It looks no different than anywhere in the Sol System.
Except for the giant red star in the distance.
Alarms blare overhead, accompanied by blinking red lights flooding the bridge. Phil's hand is white against the pilot's headrest, mag-boots anchored firmly to the floor even as he sways forward. "Status report."
"Thrusters, check," Monica confirms, her hair even frizzier than usual. "Navigation still reinitializing… five minutes until ready. All other systems operational, Director. Drift… just under 1000K."
"Five injuries on the lower decks, no fatalities," Ryder reports evenly. "Sensors are showing some hull damage, but nothing urgent."
"Why the bumpy ride, Operative?"
"Transit was costlier than anticipated. Had to reroute power to non-critical systems to compensate for the power surge." Phil relaxes at her blasé tone; she wouldn't be so nonchalant had there really been a problem.
He nods. "Identify our galactic coordinates; send me a complete analysis. Lieutenant Ryder, set up a buoy network, establish comms with the Gagarin."
"Aye, Director."
Phil edges closer to the viewscreen, allowing himself a moment to breathe in the stars of an alien solar system. The farthest humanity has ever reached.
It's a new day, under a new sun.
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - HEADLINES NOW Charon Relay Active!
September 5th, 2026
By Christine Everhart
SOL SYSTEM -
… defining moment in human history, the SSV Sokovia is the very first starship to pass through the Charon Relay to a solar system 36 light-years away from Earth. Arcturus, the fourth largest star in the night sky, is from a cluster of several stars crashing through the galactic halo.
Sources also declared that the Sokovia has detected several other mass relays in the Arcturus Stream, confirming the long-standing theory of Charon being part of a larger network of relays spread across the galaxy…
October 25th, 2026
Stark Residence, Georgia
Their blades slice across the lake, leaving slick, thin trails of smooth ice in their wake. It's a good time to be ice skating - fall is segueing into winter, with the temperature dipping just enough that she doesn't need to put too much effort into maintaining the ice.
"Few steps forward, then let your body glide naturally," she demonstrates. "When you're comfortable, push back with one foot."
Morgan's brows furrowed in concentration as she attempts to copy, sweating through the utterly unnecessary winter clothes - she'd demanded the complete experience. She'd refused to use a walker, compromising with a promise to follow Isabelle's instructions to the letter.
In hindsight, Pepper had acquiesced far too easily.
Isabelle gently pulls to a stop - pushing her feet apart and sticking one skate sideways.
"Can you… whoa -," Morgan's breath hitches as she wobbles for a brief, nervous second before righting herself, " - walk on water?" she gasps.
"Take it slow, and if you need to fall - bend your knees, squat, and fall sideways," she murmurs. "Why would I need to - I can swim faster than anyone else on the planet."
"But say you absolutely had to. Could you do it?"
Isabelle's self-imposed yet necessary restraint on her hydrokinesis has never left much room for experimentation. She hadn't known what she was missing until she was exposed to the benefit of an outsider's perspective; the inherent and bottomless well of her niece's curiosity that possibly surpasses even her father's.
Water was the glue that tied the two of them.
"Possibly," she allows, demonstrating a swizzle while leading her niece further down the lake. "Eyes on me, baby bird," she reminds when Morgan instinctively looks down to correct her posture. "Taxing, but doable. Tell me how."
Her tongue pokes out in concentration as places her heels together and pulls them apart, repeating until she leaves uneven hourglass figures on the ice. Her eyes snap to her skates, then back again as she grins sheepishly. "Manipulating the buoyancy?"
"Close, but not quite. Try again."
Without warning, Morgan releases her grip, putting on a little speed as she attempts to glide across the ice. "Easy," Isabelle warns, but before she can reach out, there's a telltale clatter of tangling skates, and she slips.
She hits the ice hard.
Isabelle skids to a stop, almost falling herself. "Are you hurt?" she asks, her heart in her throat as she pats her niece down frantically. Falling is normal, she reminds herself; it's practically a rite of passage, but the fact doesn't make it easier.
Morgan blinks, her mittens sweeping across the ice dazedly. "No, not buoyancy," she muses. "Surface tension, like water striders on the lake. Buoyancy pushes you up; surface tension prevents you from sinking in the first place."
"Morgan H. Stark! "
Her head snaps up. "M not hurt," she assures. "Well, except for my butt. Ankle's fine, stop poking at it. I'm right, aren't I?"
Isabelle works her jaw. She rises slowly, forces her anger somewhere deep. "Turn over onto your hands and knees," she bites out. "When your hands are firmly on the ice, place one foot at a time between them, slowly push yourself up."
Morgan ducks her chin. She gingerly pulls herself up, grimacing the whole time - clearly in more pain than previously admitted. Isabelle aches to help her out, but this is a teaching moment, in more ways than one, so she only grabs her hand when Morgan's completely upright.
It's when she's leading her back to the shoreline that Morgan attempts to yank out of her grip. "Wait, we're leaving?! There's still some time left!"
Isabelle doesn't budge, unimpressed at the glare she receives. "We had a deal," she says, her voice colder than the ice. "You broke it. You know the consequences."
"That's not fair!" she shouts, forgetting herself and stamping her foot. Isabelle catches her before she can fall again. "It was just a simple mistake!"
"A deliberate act of disobedience," she corrects. "You got hurt. You scared me. That is not okay. Don't make this worse on yourself."
Morgan glares, her chest heaving. "Can't get any worse than it already is."
Isabelle stills. They stare at each other for a long moment, neither backing down. But then she lets out a deep sigh, crouches until she's at eye-level with her niece.
Morgan's hair is sweat-soaked, sticking to her hair and neck. She reaches out, brushes them away, thumbing at the dark bags under her eyes. There are lines of exhaustion on her face. "I know, baby bird," she whispers, leaning her forehead against her helmet.
She knows - because night terrors and insomnia have been constant companions of hers as long as remembers. She hasn't had a dendrotoxin-free sleep in years. But she rests, and sleeps, and doesn't flood the house in the throes of her terrors.
Morgan doesn't have that benefit. She's too young for Isabelle's solution; too young for coffee, too human to empty the pool.
But not too young for insomnia.
Isabelle would trade places in a heartbeat to give her niece one peaceful night. Just one.
"I know."
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - HEADLINES NOW
Alliance Purchases Gagarin
October 29th, 2026
By Christine Everhart
GAGARIN STATION -
… begun surveying for habitable worlds outside the Sol System. Buoyed by the success of the PSV Sokovia, the Alliance has bought Gagarin Station at a fraction of the cost of its construction, providing some much-needed respite for its near-bankrupt backers…
November 11th, 2026
The Quinjet rocks as rain lashes against its hull. Phil, for the millionth time, marvels at May's excellent skills as she flies nonchalantly through the thunderstorm.
He chances a glance at his companion, who doesn't seem to have the same confidence in his pilot. But far be it a little turbulence to stop Major General Glenn Talbot from carrying out his duty.
"Alright, abbreviated version," Glenn says. "I've been putting this off for a while. Could've probably lasted longer, but for some reason that you haven't bothered sharing with me, Coulson," he meets Phil's eyes coolly, " - you chose to accelerate our timetable."
"It was just a simple request for an alternative source of funding, Major."
Glenn snorts. "Sure, simple. Which is why it sent most of the world's nations into a tizzy."
"I told them nothing that I haven't told you."
"Now, that I believe. But you knew this has been in the talks since the Blip, you knew it… and you went behind my back and showed your belly to these sharks anyway."
"The funding is an urgent issue."
"Well, it won't be after the World Security Council's done with you. Ever since you split with them, they haven't been happy with how you continue to operate 'unchecked', so they took advantage of you reaching out… which is exactly what you were hoping for."
Phil doesn't give his friend enough credit, and regrets he can't alleviate his concerns - not now, maybe not ever. "The briefing, Major," he reminds gently but firmly.
Glenn glares, tossing a few holograms between them. "Councilwoman Pamela Hawley, the only remaining member of the original WSC, and delegate for the Union of Incorporated Nations. She's a hell of a lot more palatable than our other option, not least of which because she's still willing to let S.H.I.E.L.D. operate as a separate entity… under the UNIN's supervision."
Born of the remnants of the United Nations - now that the Systems Alliance is the name on everyone's lips - the UNIN is a coalition of the smaller Earth nations who hadn't been able to contribute to the Alliance's increasing interest in colonizing the stars.
Hawley is desperate for power and influence over Earth, and she'd decided that S.H.I.E.L.D. was the way to go about it. Phil has been forced into the limelight for his actions during the Decimation. It's not a position he's comfortable with - so this would take the heat off his back and allow S.H.I.E.L.D. to serve.
At the frankly enormous risk of corruption by HYDRA, again, if Isabelle Collins' reports on Henry Lawson are anything to go by.
Phil sighs. "The alternative?"
Glenn swipes at the holo. "Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross," he bites out with distaste. "Only time he wasn't a pain in the ass was when he was Decimated."
"Glenn."
"I'm serious. Banner could've made an exemption of him - he'd have been justified." He rolls his eyes at the look Phil gives him but restrains himself. "Spokesperson for the Alliance, which is ultra-keen on dissolving S.H.I.E.L.D. and its assets into their military and science divisions. You'll be left with no power, no influence - as they wipe you and your accomplishments completely off the map in a few decades."
He throws up his arms explosively. "God help us; he has you pegged. You people are like roaches; always find a way to bounce back - so he's burning the whole house down just to get rid of you."
It's marvelous how far Glenn has come in its opinion of S.H.I.E.L.D. Phil likes to think he's played a not-insignificant part in that.
The Systems Alliance. The representative body of Earth and all future human colonies in the Milky Way. The military, exploratory, and economic spearhead of humanity. A beautiful ideal; just like how S.H.I.E.L.D. had been.
And in Phil's opinion, the best option to truly rid themselves of HYDRA.
The Alliance will be, by necessity, out in the open. All of its actions watched, scrutinized, judged. HYDRA will never be able to get a foothold in such an environment, forcing it to either implode or - in the most probable scenario - splinter into an exterior faction.
Hell of a lot easier to stamp out a leech than a virus.
But S.H.I.E.L.D., as an organization, would cease to exist.
And there it is - Phil's contention point.
He's dedicated his whole life to this organization; he doesn't know what he's without it.
It feels like willingly allowing others to destroy the home he's spent decades building. Or maybe taking an ax and doing it himself. It feels like taking the ax to Lola.
An unimaginably horrifying concept.
And the only one that could save the world.
He just has to make the choice.
THE CONSTANT TIMES
Multiple Habitable Worlds Found!
November 23rd, 2026
By Shirin Kazemi
ARMSTRONG, LUNA - Initial extrasolar surveys report the presence of several habitable planets - officially called 'garden worlds' - beyond the Charon Relay. Rumors indicate there are some within reach of conventional FTL travel from Sol itself…
December 5th, 2026
Stark Residence, Georgia
Isabelle's tucking in her niece after wrestling with another violent bout of night terrors. It doesn't take a genius to recognize she's stalling.
Small, inhumanly strong fingers snap out to wrap around her wrist. Isabelle watches, transfixed by the familiar, brilliant orange seeping into Morgan's sclera until they glow with an unearthly light. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" she croaks, even though she knows what the answer will be.
"I detect nothing, skipper." The A.I.'s worry at Isabelle's mind-state skyrockets every night. But it's infinitely better to be reassured of her own insanity than consider the alternative - that there might be something very wrong with her niece instead.
Dry lips part. "Come home, Isabelle Stark," Morgan orders with a voice folding in on itself. And it is an order, without a doubt - one that Isabelle aches to obey. "Time is ending. Come home."
It's different each time.
It's all connected.
Death is not the worst outcome here.
Different messages, all equally, eerily incomprehensible.
She stares for a long moment until the orange bleeds out and an exhausted Morgan slips into an uneasy, fitful rest. "I am home, baby bird," she whispers against her forehead.
She gently shuts the door, almost bumping into Pepper standing just beyond the doorway with a shawl around her shoulders. "How was it?"
"Bad," Isabelle admits.
"For her or you?"
There's a momentary silence. Pepper has never seen the orange and believes Morgan's sleep talking to be another symptom of an underlying medical condition that no expert has been able to diagnose. Most days, Isabelle lets herself be convinced. "She's been flagging lately," she replies, deftly shifting the concern towards the one who deserves it. "Appetite's gone for a toss too."
Pepper nods, looking little better than her exhausted, sleep-deprived daughter. Even though she doesn't suffer from night terrors or the occasional, sunset-hued hallucinations Isabelle's mind insists on playing out, her sister-in-law has her own problems that she refuses to share.
Isabelle might have an inkling of what they are.
"She's tiring herself out. Pushing so hard her body has no choice except to shut down. It's not sustainable." Pepper scrubs her face harshly. "God, I thought we'd gotten past this."
And they had, for a time. The terrors had petered out last year, besides a minor resurgence in April that Isabelle hadn't been around for. They'd all heaved a sigh of relief, assuming that Morgan had finally started to heal. But October had catapulted her right back into the throes of insomnia.
It's always those two months. April and October. The anniversaries of the Snap and the Blip.
"The experts claim night terrors are common in the wake of the Decimation, but this… this can't possibly be normal. It's…," her breath hitches, sounding dangerously close to a sob, "... it's killing her, Izzy."
Isabelle pulls her into a rough hug. "I'll find a way," she promises fiercely. The love for her niece chases away the lingering lure of the mysterious messages tinged with orange. "I promise you."
"Whatever it takes."
THE CONSTANT TIMES
Resurgence of Interventionary Evolutionists
December 17th, 2026
By Shirin Kazemi
BIRNIN T'CHAKA, MARS - The presence of a former Prothean observation post on Mars has caused a rebirth of 'interventionary evolutionists' among humans. These individuals believe the god-myths of ancient civilizations are misremembered encounters with aliens, a theory fueled by the existence of the Asgardians, the extragalactic species once venerated as Norse deities…
January 23rd, 2027
Singapore International Spaceport
The Spaceport is visible from Madripoor.
Standing tall above the bay, its upper levels resemble leaves spiraling around a central stalk, with the 'leaves' being starship docking bays. The extensive roof forms the tarmac for regular airplanes; there aren't nearly enough interstellar missions to justify the existence of solely a spaceport.
At least, not yet.
To Daisy's bleary eyes, the harried passengers and impeccable staff appear as little more than a blur, speeding past the check-in, through several, stringent layers of security and decontamination protocols on different floors.
The possibility that anyone - hell, several of them - could be suspect had necessitated… unconventional assistance, along with the dozen or so agents failing to appear unobtrusive.
"What exactly should I be looking for? " F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks.
Daisy sighs internally. "I wish I knew." She sets her omni-tool to scan surreptitiously. "Barnes' intel suggested HYDRA had drawn up detailed blueprints for the Spaceport and all the flight manifestos for today."
"So - planted explosives, suspicious figures, potential hijackings, and other unsavory possibilities, then? " F.R.I.D.A.Y. makes a sound reminiscent of a back popping. "Feels good to stretch my limbs."
Collins not giving you enough of a workout?- Daisy bites back at the last second. Her relationship with either isn't strong enough for her words to be construed as anything but malicious. But the older Inhuman's… unique experience with HYDRA makes Daisy wish she'd chosen some other time to take a break.
Unlike Coulson, who is attempting damage control, Daisy had narrowed her focus to Henry Lawson, and his ambitious plans to use transhumans to fuel an unstoppable army. But spying on him on his home turf had proved far more untenable than she'd suspected. So she'd jumped when James Barnes had reached out with reports he'd 'liberated' from HYDRA bases.
Being the highest-ranking agent nearby had opened doors. A perk that she might never get to exploit again.
Daisy manually peruses locations F.R.I.D.A.Y. doesn't have access to - bathrooms, storage closets - while the A.I. scans incoming luggage, vets the passengers, staff, and security. It's slow, thankless, and - as they realize much later, when twilight paints the skies - ultimately fruitless work.
When the last agent reports yet another negative, and even F.R.I.D.A.Y. is starting to sound antsy, Daisy finally allows herself to slump against the wall and admit failure.
"There's a Starbucks fifty paces to your left. "
She snorts, scrubs a rough hand down her face. "That obvious?"
"Only to those too familiar with insomniacs. If it's any consolation, you put up a good front for other organics."
She chuckles, makes her way over to the coffeehouse.
It's when her mouth is scalding after almost inhaling the entire espresso, and she's wondering whether she can squeeze in the fresh-baked cookies on the counter, that her comms crackle.
"Agent Johnson. We've got a bogey."
She vaguely recognizes the voice; one of the fresh-faced rookies recruited following the chaos of the Mars discovery. All thoughts of delicious snacks forgotten, she stalks to the nearest window.
Against the bruised hue of the sky, a wobbly speck materializes, far too big to be a bird. It's heading straight for the Spaceport.
"Emergency comms indicate it's an unscheduled arrival," F.R.I.D.A.Y. says tightly, " - a cargo starship claiming hydraulic difficulties and requesting permission for an emergency touchdown." A pause. "Approach has already granted it."
She bites down on a curse, jabs the buttons on a nearby elevator. "Contact flight control," she orders the agents, " - get them to deny the docking request!"
"You're not listening," F.R.I.D.A.Y. cuts in grimly. "It's not docking. It's heading for the tarmac."
Daisy grows cold.
The docking cradles are heavily insulated from the rest of the spaceport, to prevent any mishaps. But the tarmac's exposed, crawling with scores of passengers and ground crew. Perfect site for ground zero. "Tell me someone's in range of that thing."
A chorus of negatives echoes back.
The elevator opens with a ding. "I can prioritize your route. Clear any traffic." She doesn't state the obvious - it won't be enough. F.R.I.D.A.Y., for all her innumerable gifts, can't make them exceed the maximum speed.
Daisy dashes to the check-in hallway, cranes her neck upwards.
The interior is constructed in a double helix formation; with distinct spirals for arrivals and departures, allowing uninterrupted traffic in either direction. The check-in counters run along the walls of the central core, which is exposed to the very top floor.
Must be thousand-and-fifty feet easy. "I don't know whether I can make it in one go."
"I can calculate a zig-zag maneuver. " A scenario plays out on Daisy's omni-tool; her stomach sinks. F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s given her the safest, fastest plan - but the angles are too steep, the contact area too narrow. "The initial force should send you most of the way there. But extreme precision is required. No do-overs. "
Meaning Daisy'll end up splat if she so much as hesitates, let alone make a mistake. Adrenaline burns through her, sweeping away the last of her exhaustion. She kneels, splays her fingers. "Tell me when," she says, and directs concentrated concussive blasts towards the floor.
Her heart vibrates in time with her hands. Hairline cracks branch out across the shiny floor, mirroring the fine fractures crawling across her bones; she's not getting out of this unscathed.
The crowd is just beginning to register the earth shaking beneath them. Emergency announcements ring from overhead speakers, urging for calm and order. There's a breathless pause, then, as the very first civilian double-takes at the sight of her.
In that instant, when recognition strikes, F.R.I.D.A.Y. speaks.
"When."
Daisy lets go.
The Quake flings her upwards. A great rush of wind drives the breath from her lungs. Details whisk into a confusing mashup of colors and sounds. Her legs swing wildly before she snaps them together, angling her body just so.
With F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s trajectory running in her mind, she directs her next Quake at a steep angle. It clips the railing of the floor directly beneath her; the concussive force strong enough to give her additional diagonal momentum.
Rapidly switching to her left, she Quakes away before she can hit the opposing spiral ascending upwards. The blast almost skims a passenger; she barely has a microsecond to wince before he disappears in a rush of tremendous sound and force as Daisy is flung upward yet again.
It doesn't take more than a few harrowing seconds to get the hang of it. There's a clock ticking down in Daisy's head; she attempts increasingly daring zigzags to clear the floors faster.
The roof rapidly fills out her vision. The very last backlash hits like a brick, flinging her indiscriminately towards the topmost floor.
Daisy doesn't manage to completely cushion her fall; the resulting jolt surges towards her skull. She sways and staggers, and it costs her precious moments; by the time her head clears, a security squad has her surrounded.
Over the enraged orders to stand down! she catches a glimpse of the gate terminals. Windows overlooking the tarmac offers a view of a starship hurtling unsteadily down a runway.
The unscheduled arrival.
The clock's ticking thunders in her blood.
She raises her arms to her side. "I'm sorry, " she breathes, as her omni-tool materializes. The shout of warning comes too late; a powerful Sabotage sweeps over guns and tasers. She uses the momentary distraction to shove through the circle, launching into a sprint.
Civilians flee at her approach, clearing a path. She primes and unleashes an Incendiary Explosive; the thermal paste devours the glass.
When her momentum peaks, she snaps her arms backward.
The Quake pitches her past the screaming crowd of onlookers and through the destroyed window. Powerful enough to carry her almost to the cargo ship - which is skidding to a stop near the edge - but these maneuvers never allow her much in the way of control.
Pain lances through her back as she craters the tarmac. The ship's wing sweeps overhead, wobbling slightly. Daisy bites back on the howl, and blinks through teary eyes; at this angle, from this distance - the movement seems too precise, too controlled.
Deliberately feigned distress.
She pushes herself to her feet. Luggage trains are milling about, with ground crew and passengers not nearly far enough. And behind - security personnel rapidly closing in.
Something shifts in the wind. The world stills.
Daisy snaps her arms forward.
The explosion slams into her hastily erected forcefields - a scorching, roiling wave of destruction. Metal crumples outward, glass shatters. She cries out as the heat washes over her.
Civilian panic rises like a living orchestra, pulsing through her overstimulated senses, skittering across her skin like thousands of ants. The fires leap upward, licking at the sky. Her Quakes mold inwards, trying to cut off the oxygen supply. Smoke rises from the scorched ground, accompanied by the telltale smell of burning plastic and rubber.
She's so focused on the explosion that she almost misses the anomaly.
A low, almost melodious sound rings over the cacophony of screeching metal, audible only to her. Building in intensity, thrumming in time with her pulse.
It's coming from the aft section.
The eezo drive core.
The melody reaches its zenith, flooding her senses.
"Daisy!"
The aftershock is blue.
It shatters through her shield, slamming into her with the force of the tsunami. She cartwheels through the air, well past the edge of the tarmac.
For a brief moment, her Terrigenesis surges into awareness; micro-vibrations coursing down her arms and legs, driving them to a brief, rapid blur.
But it's not enough.
She's unconscious before she hits the water.
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - EARTH STANDARD
Asgardians Eyeing Extrasolar Colony
January 23rd, 2027
By Amita Qasid
LONDON, EARTH - … the Asgardians have expressed interest in colonizing Terra Nova. The first habitable world to be discovered beyond the Charon Relay, Terra Nova is one of four planets orbiting a Sol-like star. King Valkyrie is in talks with S.H.I.E.L.D., and has indicated an eagerness to build a new home for her people…
January 23rd, 2026
World Security Council
LOCATION: CLASSIFIED
Glenn has a splitter of a headache.
"... you did not survive the Decimation, Mr. Secretary. Perhaps that's why you do not see the value of S.H.I.E.L.D."
He eyes the vein throbbing at Thaddeus Ross' forehead and wills it to burst. Unfortunately, as he'd learned in this past couple of months, that pathetic excuse of a human being is made of sterner stuff.
"I'm not denying that S.H.I.E.L.D.… served its purpose of keeping the peace during an unimaginably hard time," Ross says, visibly restraining his ire. "I'm asking why they need to maintain an armed presence in almost every country when the world is at peace."
Pamela Hawley, the delegate for the Union of Incorporated Nations, blinks. "I wonder, my dear sir, how is it that you extrapolate the discovery of extraterrestrial technology disguised as a distant moon to the idea of our world being at peace."
She shrugs - a calculated move. "Perhaps I'm being too harsh on aliens - the Asgardians have always been cordial… but then again, that might be because they're refugees and still at risk of a species-wide extinction. What happens when their population grows, and they want more territory?"
The question is addressed to Phil, who's been observing the proceedings quietly. Despite the debate being mostly about the ultimate fate of S.H.I.E.L.D., Ross hasn't allowed him to say a word, preferring instead to argue with Hawley, with whom he has a long and contentious relationship.
"We have been in talks with King Brunnhilde," Phil replies. "She has expressed an interest in colonizing one of the solar systems linked to the many mass relays in the Arcturus Stream."
Hawley blinks, surprised, but Ross, rather predictably, explodes. "You don't have the authority to just offer them an entire solar system! There's a priority list - and humans come first!"
Phil's veneer of serenity makes Glenn's stomach churn in dread. "I shall forward her your response, then, Mr. Secretary. Perhaps, in the future, you would prefer to speak directly to her yourself?"
Fat chance. Valkyrie would have her pegasus stomp her to death before attempting to converse with Thaddeus Ross, and they all know it.
Ross goes purple. Hawley attempts to hide her small smirk in her datapad. Glenn attempts to glare a hole through Phil's skull.
He hadn't expected his old friend to restrain lipping off to this overgrown, egotistical man-child with delusions of importance. But he also would like his job to not become even more complicated than it already is, thank you very much.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. did not make any inconvenient promises, Mr. Secretary," he says hastily. "It simply acknowledges the Asgardians' concerns." Because you lot sure as hell won't.
"The Asgardians colonizing a planet would play well for all concerned parties," Phil continues with some degree of discipline. "As a part of the Alliance, they'd be honor-bound to defend its territories - and their departure would also relax resources that could be transferred elsewhere."
Like into your crap-lined pockets, Glenn thinks savagely when Ross' eyes light up.
"We'll revisit the Asgardian situation in a later discussion," Hawley interjects smoothly. "We still need to discuss…"
Glenn tunes her out, his eyes falling on Phil. Worry stirs in his belly. He'd never admit it - but the man is the closest thing he has to the concept of a 'best friend', juvenile though the term is. And he's pretty sure the feeling is mutual.
Which makes this even more troubling. Because Glenn knows; he knows that Phil's hiding something. It's a dead tell - Phil's ability to appear unruffled increases exponentially with the urgency of the latest nonsensical drama S.H.I.E.L.D. is involved in.
And if Phil's here, debating the fate of his beloved organization with the two people who have cause to hate S.H.I.E.L.D. the most - then they're definitely in a deeper pile of shit-puddle than when Glenn had been shot.
As though responding to his thoughts, his omni-tool blips with a priority alert, followed closely by Phil's. Mutually ignoring Ross's loud rebuke, they open the contents of the mail.
Glenn grows cold.
… eezo core explosion…
… catastrophic starship failure…
He shares a horrified glance with Phil, then, muttering a half-hearted apology, belts it out of there with his friend in tow.
Involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D. always did ruin his sleep.
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - HEADLINES NOW
Starship Explosion Over Spaceport
January 23rd, 2027
By Iris Dunnigan
SINGAPORE, EARTH -
… killed a dozen civilians and exposed downwind communities to dust-form element zero. The potential ramifications of eezo exposure remain as of yet unknown, but experts are looking into the drug colloquially known as 'red sand'…
January 24th, 2027
The Stinger
Madripoor
"A huge spider-web on the terrazzo finishing!" Glenn snarls, stalking across the hallway. "Quake-damage on every floor! The passengers were rattled more by Daisy's stunt than the explosion itself!"
" - she was only doing what she thought was right." Phil's gaze is fixed unblinkingly past a glass window into a brightly lit room.
Glenn doesn't know this base - some post-Uprising haunt of Fury's - so he doesn't know what's so important beyond that window that's keeping Phil's unwavering attention. He stalks over, bristling. "That excuse hasn't worked for almost fifteen years now, Coulson! You can't just…!"
And then he catches a glimpse of the grisly presentation through the glass. Just a glimpse - the glass becomes opaque an instant later, but it's enough for the impression to hollow out his insides.
In later years, he'll find that memory to be his clearest - a cold, sterilized med-bay, almost painfully white. Medical professionals pouring suspension gel into a healing chamber, shouting commands.
And within the chamber.
Little more than meat and tubes.
Nausea and horror crawl up his throat. He can't look at Phil, not even at his reflection on the opaque finishing of the window. "Is that…?"
"The explosion threw her overboard. She hit the water from skyscraper height. Shattered almost every bone on impact."
His voice is unreadable, but the look in his eyes - vacant, almost lifeless.
Glenn is seized by terror when he realizes one simple truth - Phil won't recover if Daisy doesn't.
"The eezo exposure," he blurts, hardly aware of what's escaping his mouth, but desperate to yank some life back into his best friend. "Witnesses claim she got the full blast."
"Yes."
"Eezo enhances Terrigenesis." He's read the official reports on red sand. So full of holes it's stinky Swiss cheese at this point. "Gives 'em a bit of a kick, right?"
Something stirs deep within blue-grey eyes. Phil swallows. "After Wakanda, Simmons medically simulated the effects of sandblasting Agent Johnson. Possibilities included molecular oscillation, intangibility… heightened durability."
"Pretty sure those sims didn't include being blasted by an ultra-powerful drive core."
Phil buries his head in his hand. Another reaches out to grasp Glenn's shoulder.
Glenn reaches out with his own arm, grip firm. Grounding. Reassuring. One last card left to play.
"Damn roaches."
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - HEADLINES NOW
Eezo Explosion Ruled Accident
February 2nd, 2027
By Iris Dunnigan
SINGAPORE, EARTH -
… a thorough investigation, authorities have ruled the explosion as an accident, stemming from a starship drive failure. To better understand the consequences, the New Dawn Foundation headed by Henry Lawson is set to track the exposures…
February 3rd, 2027
The Stinger
"Accident, my ass," Glenn Talbot growls, tossing the datapad onto the desk. Phil is not enjoying being the target of his ire; his glare is hot enough to emit scorching lasers. "I made some calls; pulled in some favors - this was sabotage, Phil, pure and simple. Electrical surge through impure eezo, apparently. I've kept it quiet, but people are already beginning to talk."
"Unless you want me to be one of them," he breathes, " - tell me the truth. Was this S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Phil meets his gaze steadily. "You, of all people, should know better."
"Should I?" Talbot throws up his hands. "I don't know what's going with you anymore! All I can make out from this shitpile of secrets and lies is you trying your utmost to scorch S.H.I.E.L.D!"
Phil flinches, squeezes his eyes shut. The words pierce like toothpicks under his fingernails.
"It's me, Phil. When did you start hiding things from me ?"
He swallows audibly. "Since I realized it's not just S.H.I.E.L.D. that I'm going to have to scorch."
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - HEADLINES NOW
Alliance Constructing Space Station
March 22nd, 2027
By Christine Everhart
ARCTURUS STREAM -
…begun the construction of a massive space station and accompanying military fleet at Arcturus, which forms the nexus of several key mass relays. "The first line of defense," Brigadier General James Rhodes claims. "History has shown us that it's only a matter of time before someone comes through; someone who might not be as friendly as Thor."
April 11, 2027
Stark Residence
"Is this how you breathe underwater?" Morgan's voice comes out garbled from within the water bubble her head's currently encased in. It shimmers in the light of approaching dusk, warping like a balloon when she pokes at it, made far more substantial under Isabelle's control.
Isabelle shakes her head. The water is spring-warm around her, and she's more content than she's been in a long time. "I've never understood that, actually," she admits. "I don't develop gills, I certainly don't do this," she indicates the bubble. "It just… happens. Have any theories?"
Morgan finally pokes it hard enough that it pops, spraying her with water. She giggles. "Peter thought it was electrolysis of water molecules - separating them into hydrogen and oxygen? Or maybe, since you automatically absorb the water, you don't need to respirate because you also absorb the oxygen ."
She shrugs. "Maybe it's both. What about pressure?"
"Underwater? I can go deeper than most, but I've recently discovered… limitations to my powers," Isabelle says, thinking of the intense, deadening cold on Charon. "Not particularly eager to have a repeat for the sake of experimentation."
"Now, are we done with the twenty questions?"
Morgan nods and smiles toothily, excitement making her vibrate.
Isabelle cups her face. A bubble swells between her palms as she pulls them apart, encircling her head and then some. More than enough oxygen for about fifteen minutes.
It is the very first trick she'd learned that hadn't yet been molded into a weapon, that had emerged unscathed through the years of betrayals and anguish. A simple thing, to make others feel what she feels in the water.
To breathe in water.
"Remember the rules?"
"No going outside the designated zones, no disobeying orders, no fun whatsoever," Morgan rolls her eyes.
"Well, if this disqualifies as fun, we could always leave… "
"It's my birthday; you can't deny me!"
"That's only going to work for the next eight hours," she murmurs, securing an arm around her.
Without warning, she plunges into the water.
Kitchen
Peter's dissecting the very unexpected recruitment letter for the twentieth time when Pepper steps into the kitchen. In a motion that screams casual, he swipes clear the screen on his omni-tool and blinks away the sword logo on the back of his eyelids.
"You know," she murmurs, peering into the oven, " - I don't know how I feel about contributing to omni-tool addiction over smartphone addiction."
He thinks. It is a grey area. "Be proud," he finally suggests. "You completely overhauled the telecom industry in three short years. Not an easy task."
"Nor, it seems, is yours," she says, rising. Pepper isn't still confident enough about baking, but Morgan had wanted something experimental, so he's been stationed here to prevent the possibility of a future meltdown. "Your aunt told me you got a lot of recruitment offers. But you seem undecided."
There's a glint in her eye that tells him she'd picked up on his not-so-subtle obfuscation. Sometimes he wonders how he kept his alter-ego secret for so long.
"Xenotech is trimming my options; not many research facilities are willing to go that niche." He shrugs. "I'm just thinking things through."
"You'd have had time for that if you'd taken a gap year as we suggested."
"My life's had too many big breaks already." He immediately regrets it when she flinches. His mouth twists. "I doubt Izzy caught this much flak over joining the Academy. What's the difference?"
"Izzy had no choice; S.H.I.E.L.D. was the only one who knew how to help her control her Terrigenesis. You, Peter Parker, refused a full-ride into MIT! " Pepper sighs. "You've been unpredictable since Beck; we just want to understand."
"There's nothing to understand," he finally snaps. These conversations always prime his emotions to the maximum. "I was angry, after Beck. He made my last year of high school a living hell, Pepper! I lost my anonymity, I lost the respect of my teachers, I lost MJ."
"Pete…"
He shoves down the raw agony. MJ hadn't left; he'd pushed her away. "No amount of therapy was going to fix that. MIT wasn't gonna fix that - they wanted Spider-Man, not me! Another Avenger on their alumni wall!"
"But the Academy," he breathes, " - they taught me to harness that anger into something useful. And they have the world's foremost scientists on guest-lecture speed-dial and access to cutting-edge tech; nobody gives a damn about a teenager swinging around dressed like a bug."
S.H.I.E.L.D., despite their fluctuating reputation, always had a lot to give. At least there, he could be sure that it was his designs - the synthetic webbing, the shooters themselves - that got him through the front door.
"That teenager saved a lot of lives," she says finally. Her voice is soft, like it has always been; his anger always seems to morph the world into something it's not. "Still can, in NYC, which has plenty of brilliant research facilities."
"Maybe. But the Spider, he's…," Peter swallows. His middle fingers ache to curl inwards.
"He's not sure he's ready to get back in the saddle just yet."
Lake
Morgan takes to the water with an ease that gives away her Venice heritage. Pepper had taught her to swim - Tony's water-related trauma would never have allowed him to enter the swimming pool, let alone the lake - but Isabelle is proud to claim that she had taught her niece to love it.
She weaves wide-eyed among the colorful seaweed on the lakebed. Pretends to meditate cross-legged on the lakebed, her mouth twitching when she finds herself drifting to the surface despite her best attempts. Laughing soundlessly when a school of fish darts around her bubble. Algae-slick pebbles slip between her impatient fingers.
Isabelle watches, silent, and aching with love and hope and joy. Their bubble - both literal and figurative - doesn't last forever, though, and both reluctantly head towards the surface.
The sky is purpling when they emerge, feathered streaks of clouds backlit by the pink-orange sun. Birds circle high on the updrafts, and there's the familiar tang of ozone in the air, promising a storm.
Morgan embraces her, burying her face in her neck. The bubble pops wetly. "Thank you, Auntie M," she says, voice a little choked. "That was the best birthday gift ever ."
Isabelle holds her tight, eyeing the tall figure approaching rapidly from the shore. "No wonder, since you're going to have to work for the rest."
"But that's the best part!"
"What, no hugs for me, squirt?" A familiar voice hollers.
Morgan twists, her eyes lighting up. "You don't have nearly as much catching up to do!" Her actions belie her words as she forgoes all technique and splashes hurriedly to the shore.
Peter Parker wades in and meets her halfway, utterly oblivious to the water staining his clothes. He laughs as she launches herself at him, spinning her around before embracing her tightly.
Isabelle watches, immeasurably grateful for his presence.
Peter's live audio-recitals of Morgan's favorite books over the phone have turned out to be a semi-regular remedy for her insomnia. He'd come up with the idea - citing that his late uncle Ben had done the same after his parents had died. He reads to her every night without fail, sometimes long past the time she's gone to sleep, his soothing voice even able to pierce the veil around her terrors.
"Officially transferring this scamp to your squad," she tells him. "Rules still apply outside the water. I'm gonna help Pep with the prep."
He exchanges a not-so-subtle alarmed look with Morgan, " - everything's almost ready," he says hurriedly, " - so you don't need to… uh, contribute."
"Pretty sure I can manage to put up decorations without blowing something up."
Peter looks doubtful, then sputters and laughs when she flicks water at his face. "Go. I'll watch her."
It's when Isabelle is halfway to the house, grass tickling at her feet, that she feels it. The all-too-familiar prickling across her scalp, goose pimples breaking across her arms. She stills, her smile disappearing when she's unable to tell if it's because of the cool wind that's even now rustling through the leaves of the sunset-dappled trees, carrying with it the scent of ozone and moisture, or something… not quite normal.
She watches Peter and Morgan giggle their way past the docks before shaking off the feeling and heading indoors.
It's just restlessness, she tells herself. A symptom of not having completely adjusted to civilian life. A remnant of a lifetime of looking over her shoulder. Not the first time she's felt it, and it certainly won't be the last.
She works to convince herself until she's drowned out her screaming instincts.
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - EARTH STANDARD
Leak questions Quake's Role in Eezo Exposure
April 11, 2027
By Amita Qasid
SINGAPORE, EARTH -
… calling the 'Transhuman Conspiracy'. While witnesses claim that Daisy Johnson defended civilians at the expense of her well-being, the larger world wonders whether her presence during the Eezo Exposure is a coincidence, especially when recently leaked intelligence puts her directly on the onset of the Inhuman Outbreak…
April 11, 2027
The Stinger
"Well played, Ross, you son of a bitch," Glenn growls, mentally cursing the shift into new-fangled holographic interfaces that don't let him mash the mute button repeatedly. "Didn't know you had it in you to grease the hands of Nazi scumbags."
"There's no proof he's part of HYDRA."
Glenn should've anticipated something like this - Ross is predictable. The Secretary's hatred for all things other is legendary, and yet he's never shied away from collaring, experimenting on, and weaponizing them. And he'll do whatever it takes to get them all under this thumb.
"You have any other theories on how he got access to classified files on the Outbreak?" None of them are bothering with denial - Ross's fingerprints are all over the leak. "Hell, I didn't know about Daisy's involvement until this morning!"
"That just implies he's in touch with Henry Lawson. Ross might not know about his HYDRA roots."
Glenn raises a hand. "I don't want an argument. Let me have this one thing, Phil. Just this one thing."
"Yes, because you really need more reasons to hate him."
Snark is good, he tells himself. Snark means that his old friend hasn't lost all hope. Agent Johnson's out of the woods.
Her body is healing incrementally, but her molecules are in a state of constant flux. Which is apparently not the reason for her unchanged comatose state. Not even the best medical professionals can tell what's wrong with her. "We should talk damage control."
The mood changes in an instant.
Phil snorts. "What's there to say? Ross' play has forced us into making the choice," he says, bitterness dripping like poison. "He'll turn the whole world against transhumans unless S.H.I.E.L.D. dissolves into the Alliance."
Ever since the Director permanently parked himself in the Stinger, political and personal heartbreak have chipped away at any sense of tranquility he might've once possessed. Glenn hardly even recognizes his friend when he gets like this. "That was obvious from the get-go," he replies coolly. "For you, if not for me."
Phil sets his jaw, looks away.
Glenn's not bitter - if he could forgive Daisy's face for shooting him in the head, he can forgive Phil for keeping HYDRA a secret - but that doesn't mean he can forget.
"You're right," Phil mumbles finally, running a hand down his face. "I've been stalling. Because of that… people got hurt."
"Trip down the guilt lane can wait," Glenn orders, not unkindly. "The Alliance will kick HYDRA's ass. But beyond that, there might be something we can do to limit Ross' control."
"How? It's not a coincidence they chose the man behind the Accords as their representative. He'll treat them just the same as he did then - use them as weapons, treat them less than human."
Amateurs. S.H.I.E.L.D. is still not completely used to figuring out loopholes in the system from within the system. "Not if you rise to the situation before all the details are hammered. Some people in the Alliance are more than willing to accept superhumans as full allies. There's a symposium in London in a few weeks. I can pull some strings, get you an invite."
Phil stares at him with hope slowly blooming in his eyes. It's an unfamiliar look. "I can go there, push for the rights of superhumans in the charter…" he begins.
Glenn shakes his head. "No. Not you. I'm gonna need an Inhuman. Ross is a representative of prejudice. No one else can represent them but one of their own."
He can almost see the gears shifting in Phil's brain. "Isabelle Collins has political clout."
"Which she doesn't use. She can't deliver the impact that's required. Especially because she's never demonstrated any interest in the betterment of her kind." Glenn hesitates, then decides - screw it. "I'm going to put forward Daisy's name."
"Glenn."
He raises a hand before Phil can protest further. "I'm not one for sentiment. So believe me when I say that every instinct I have," he says, " - is screaming that that agent is going to resume being a pain in my neck real soon. She's just… taking some time off."
Gratitude shines bright in his best friend's eyes. "Who would've thought you'd turn out to be Daisy Johnson's champion?"
Glenn snorts. "I'm only occupying the seat until the genuine article gets his ass back on the saddle." He shifts. "It's not a very comfortable position."
"Noted."
Deep in the bowels of the facility, Daisy Johnson lies suspended between this life and the next.
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - EARTH STANDARD
Demeter Colonized!
April 11, 2026
By Amita Qasid
SOL SYSTEM -
… Demeter has become the first extrasolar garden world to be colonized.
Meanwhile, the Alliance has approved colonization rights of Terra Nova to Asgardians, a move that remains highly controversial in certain pro-human circles…
Stark Residence
Peter has never underestimated Morgan's genius, but he's starting to have an inkling that it might very well leave her father's in the dust.
Izzy had hinted as such in the conversations he's had with her over the past year - and isn't he glad for that, because while it had been stilted in the beginning, their relationship has grown in leaps and bounds - citing Morgan's borderline-obsessed insistence on cracking open the remaining secrets of her aunt's hydrokinetic abilities.
And now he's watching firsthand as she mows through the increasingly complex riddles, and codes he's been painstakingly constructing over the past month in her 'Gift Hunt' - an annual scavenger hunt for her birthday gifts carefully hidden around the property. She had come up with the concept herself, thrilled at the prospect of solving puzzles more than the gifts themselves.
"It's as if Happy's not even trying," Morgan grumbles, a hastily-wrapped gift in hand, kicking at the pile of leaves next to a park bench. They're deep in the woods - usually one of his favorite places, especially in autumn - but now washed out with darkness that's descended far too rapidly for spring.
"Probably because he wanted you to get to his gift first, not last," Peter replies absently, eyeing the heavy gray clouds rolling across the sky in a bruise-colored wall. His nose twitches with the pungent smell of ozone. "C'mon, let's get inside before the storm hits."
"That wasn't the last one," she says, tilting her head. "There's one more that wasn't on the list. Race you to it!" And she turns and sprints down the trail, towards the lakehouse.
Peter's on her heels just as fast. "Sorry to disappoint, squirt, but there's nothing else. Maybe next year."
Faster than he thought she was capable of, she ducks and rolls under his reaching hand, ignoring his sharp'hey! ' as she splits from the trail. "This one's a good one; you won't be disappointed, I promise!"
"Morgan H. Stark!" A name called out incredibly, frustratingly often in that exact tone of voice, drowned out by the strong winds whipping the trees back and forth, blocking his view, and his reach. "You come back here right this second!"
She laughs, bright and thrilled - weaving through the trees in a rapid zig-zag pattern that he'd taught her, damn it! The sound echoes eerily in the false darkness staining the woods in ghostly-grey hues. The moon has completely disappeared, smothered by the cloudy blanket of black, making it difficult even for him to see through the sheet of rain that has already soaked him to the bone.
So he falls back on his other senses to guide him through the suddenly, oppressively violent conditions, honing them on Morgan's meandering trail, mind rapidly running calculations of her final destination, all the while yelling threats of tickling and grounding to last a lifetime.
His mind spits out the answer at the same second he hears her wading into the water. "Morgan, get back here! No one would've left anything in the lake - it's too dangerous!"
It's only because he's so honed in on her that he hears her reply even over the waves lashing against the docks. "I don't care!"
Peter crashes through the trees, about to leap after the child he's chosen as his family.
Morgan's somehow upright even amidst a swirling, frothy vortex of water. He reads her lips more than hears her last words.
"It's from my dad!"
Her words seem to cave in his chest, making him lose his footing on the slick docks. He stumbles, catches himself against a sharp splinter. The distraction is just for a nanosecond, but that's more than enough for the forces that are conspiring against him.
A brilliant flash of lightning splinters across the roiling sky, searing an afterimage behind his eyelids. He yells in agony as a crack of thunder follows, assaulting his enhanced awareness, heightened even more from his chase.
Completely buried by his overwhelmed senses, he's only able to blink his eyes open a few precious seconds later.
By then, Morgan's already gone.
Dining Room
Isabelle's debating the pros and cons of taping streamers to the walls as opposed to dangling them from lights when she hears it.
A familiar voice overlaid with the unfamiliar crackle of static - unusual for an arc reactor powered household, but perhaps not that unusual if they're in for a stormy night - that sets her heart and her legs tripping towards the dining room.
"... sorry I can't make it," Rhodey is saying over the comm system. Isabelle allows herself a glimpse of his hologram before ducking into the stairwell, her chest aching with want and misery. " Apparently, just because I fly around in an exosuit, they think I know how to build a damn space station."
"You've already apologized to Morgan," Pepper replies, her back to the stairwell. "Let's not beat around the bush, Rhodes. Tell me why you called."
The pause that follows is broken by a heavy sigh. "You know why."
"It's not happening," is the immediate, firm reply. "I'm not betraying Tony like that."
Isabelle rests her suddenly numb muscles against the wall. She knows what this is about.
"And I don't want you to. God, I don't even want to have this conversation with you, Pepper. But we don't have a choice. "
"Over my dead body."
"Yeah, I wouldn't go around saying that in front of extremists like Ross."
"Why? Because he might just arrange it? Are you threatening me, Rhodey?"
"... we've been too much for you to be accusing me of something like that," he murmurs, affronted.
From her position, she sees Pepper waver before collapsing into a chair, head in her hands. "… you're right, I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I'm just on edge."
"We all are. Look, I'm not here to convince you to restart it. I'm just saying… give them something. Anything to get them off your back."
After a long moment, she nods, scrubbing her face roughly. Her eyes are bloodshot. "… RnD has some ideas to miniaturize the retro-reflective tech for individual purposes. Some kind of an infiltration cloak. Pairing this, and other tech abilities directly to the omni-tool, which in turn can be linked to hardsuits."
"I can work with that. Would you be willing to sell the blueprints of the original model? Civilians are already trying to mod it to sometimes disastrous consequences."
"Why? So my competitors can install weapons into the thing, which keeps my hands clean?"
"I'm just trying to make the best out of a bad situation, Pep."
"... I'll see what I can do."
The conversation diverts to technicalities then, as Pepper attempts to find a way around what Rhodey, and by extension, the Alliance is asking her to do. Isabelle, for her part, struggles to breathe through the heaviness in her core, soaking in and hurting from the voice of her husband in equal measures, so close and yet so far away.
Isabelle's so lost trying to compose herself that she doesn't hear Pepper coming around the stairway until she feels a gentle brush against her elbow. "Should've known you'd be eavesdropping."
"Shamelessly," she says, proud when her voice doesn't waver.
Pepper draws a deep breath and lets it out. "I don't understand why you don't go after him."
She seals her lips against the replies threatening to burst out of her mouth.
Because he's still mourning me.
Because he lost me for five years and I'm afraid I've lost him forever.
Because we're trying to fix something that refuses to stay fixed.
"Betraying Tony?" is all she says. She's good at connecting the dots, but she'll feign ignorance if it gets Pepper to drop the subject of her marriage.
Her sister-in-law gives her that look - the gentle threat of a future conversation because she's not fooled that easily. "The Alliance is pressuring me into restarting weapons manufacturing."
"Let me guess - one Secretary Ross is spearheading the mission."
"He approached me at Tony's funeral," she whispers. Isabelle's stomach roils in disgust and hatred. "He's only gotten more insistent. Paranoid, even."
"You've never had trouble fending off the military before."
"Never had to deal with a hostile takeover before." She shakes her head, a slow rocking that reeks of exhaustion. "My lawyers are doing all they can to fend off Lawson, but it feels like I'm fighting an uphill battle."
"It's only a matter of time."
Between one heartbeat and the next, darkness snaps down upon them as the power goes out. The sudden, anticipatory hush that follows is broken when the wooden shutters bang open, lashing them with frigid rain.
Pepper's curse is swallowed by the echoing crack of thunder that seems to shake the very house. She stumbles, her hair forming a sticky halo around her face, soaked clothing clinging to her. "Where did that come from?"
Before she can answer, a hoarse scream shatters through the storm, raw and panicked and grief-stricken. They're sprinting into the cold even before the word - a single, beautiful word that should never be called out in such a manner - gets cut off.
"Morgan!"
ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK - HEADLINES NOW
Prothean Ruins Possible on Eden Prime
April 11, 2026
By Christine Everhart
BIRNIN T'CHAKA, MARS
…Eden Prime. Significant, not for the possibility of integrating Earth-native organisms into its biosphere, but because the galactic coordinates of this garden world were discovered in the Prothean data found on Mars. Scientists claim the possibility of finding more Prothean ruins is high…
Lake
Peter dives deep, searching frantically, fruitlessly until the spots in his vision seem darker than the savagely violent water around him. He surfaces, inhaling until his lungs are fit to bursting, about to plunge in again when he hears a voice shatter through the rage of the storm.
"Get out, Parker." Izzy's on the shore, arms raised and fingers splayed. Her eyes are a freezing aquamarine.
He doesn't even think of disobeying, not with that cold, merciless look on her face. He scrambles to the shore, grabbing Pepper when she attempts to make a break for the lake. "It's gonna be okay," he whispers when she snarls and beats at the arms caging her. "She's gonna be okay."
A force radiates outwards from Izzy, so powerful her back arches backward. The frothy waves are shoved away, curling around an invisible sphere, like the hood of a gigantic cobra rearing to strike. They tower over them, dark, frothy, and backlit by vengeful lightning - exposing the wet, pebbled lakebed dozens of feet below.
Under different circumstances, he'd have taken a moment to acknowledge the awe.
But then he spots the tiny, curled figure nestled between the tall, swaying seaweed.
"Go," Izzy whispers as she falls to her knees, arms trembling violently as she holds back the water.
Peter doesn't need to be told twice. He vaults into the rift, crouching to cushion his landing. Morgan is still and cold - too cold - when he scoops her up, curled around something small and hard that pokes him in the chest when he clambers up the rocky banks.
Pepper's there at the edge, reaching for her daughter, and immediately starts applying CPR, half-sobbing, half-breathing life into an unresponsive body.
He doesn't notice when the wave smashes back into the lake, drenching him. His spider-sense, already pushed way past its limits, is screaming at him, but that's a good thing, he tells himself desperately, because, yes, there is danger, but it's not over yet.
It's not silent yet, not like it was on an orange battlefield smothered with the ash of monsters.
Not like it was with Tony, scorched alive by the power of the cosmos.
Izzy, spent with the effort of holding back tons of water, manages to crawl over to her niece's side and places a violently shaking hand on her chest.
Peter hits the ground just as his sister in all but blood heaves and retches, the sound of her gasping for air the most beautiful thing in the world. Pepper sobs her relief into Morgan's hair.
A relief that turns cold when there's no further response. No crying, no confused or scared whispers. Nothing.
Pepper draws back, panic mounting with every second her daughter remains insensate, even with multiple shakes and slaps. "Why isn't she waking up?"
"I… there's no water in her lungs…" Izzy trails off when the child turns her head, seeking her aunt with an intensity that sends chills down Peter's spine.
"Balance the scales, Isabelle Stark."
Izzy goes white.
"What's wrong with her eyes?" Peter demands.
Izzy's gaze is slow to snap to him. She blinks, as though parsing his words, which is doing nothing for the panic bubbling up his throat.
It's Pepper who finally answers. "What do you see?"
"They're glowing. Orange."
A lost, distant look descends over Pepper, as though she's on the edge of a devastating realization. Her arms curl tightly around Morgan. Izzy's too still, too silent as she stares unblinkingly into her niece's unnatural eyes. The thunder, angry at having been forgotten, booms overhead.
They would've all sat there, silent and lost, like an ancient ruined city, if not for Pepper, who shakes it off with a sudden look of determination and moves.
She heaves Morgan into her arms easily, as though her daughter is weightless. "I'm getting her out of the rain," she tells Izzy, her voice sharp enough to cut bone. "Fix this."
When they're gone, Izzy looks at him. Barely contained terror wracks her body with tremors.
"She said there was a gift in the lake," he blurts in response to the unasked question. "I couldn't…," he swallows, " - I couldn't stop her. She said it was from her dad."
He'd almost forgotten about it - the item Morgan had almost killed herself for, digging into his stomach, grabbed unintentionally when Pepper had taken over.
Peter forcibly uncurls stiff fingers, utterly unsurprised to find a devastatingly familiar, circular object, slick and rusted from years beneath the water, its light long since faded away.
A flash of lightning throws the words into sharp relief.
TONY STARK HAS A HEART.
Lakehouse
"Lungs are fine, but I'm monitoring them closely," F.R.I.D.A.Y. reports, her voice wobbly with fear. "Heartbeat's normal. Nothing in my scans suggests a reason for the… comatose state. I have no idea."
"Can you see it?" Isabelle needs to ask, one final time.
"No."
Isabelle nods, something settling inside her. "And you never will." She moves to leave.
Pepper grabs her arm. "Where are you going?"
She meets her furious, desperate gaze steadily. "I thought it was all in my head, Pep, so I buried it in the sand. We thought it was night terrors, that it was hallucinations."
"But Peter and I can see it. You can't. F.R.I.D.A.Y. can't." She swallows harshly. "And something tells me if Rhodey or Happy were here, they wouldn't either."
Pepper's fingernails dig into her skin.
"The Decimation," Peter breathes. "Only the Snapped can see it."
"This isn't a medical anomaly," Isabelle explains quietly. "It's magical."
"And I know someone who can help bring her home."
April 11th, 2027
Stark Residence, Georgia
Gabriel Reyes's prosthetics whir to life as he steps through the portal, making her ache for Rhodey. "Where's Wong?"
"In a meeting with Director Coulson," he replies, apparently unbothered with her abruptness, " - discussing partitioning W.A.N.D. before S.H.I.E.L.D. gets dissolved." He turns just before the bedroom door, eyes sympathetic but firm. "I'm more than capable, Agent Collins."
She nods mutely.
—-
It doesn't take him long to examine Morgan. "Her soul is tethered," he says, eyes boring into Isabelle as he does so. His face betrays nothing.
"What does that mean?" Pepper demands. She'd refused to wait outside with the rest of them, trusting sorcerers about as much as anyone would when one of them prophesied their husband's death.
"She's an anchor to an obscure dimension," he explains. He's been taking lessons from Wong - nothing in his tone suggests that he's speaking of anything more important than the weather. Isabelle doesn't know if that makes it better or worse. "Her soul and mind… are trapped there."
Her stomach clenches. It was two years ago, now, almost to the day, when Robbie Reyes had dropped out of a breach in the middle of a scarred battlefield, rambling about empty prisons and tears in reality. It's an encounter that she's not liable to forget.
Anchors. Vulnerable points - a doorway into this realm for evil things to latch onto from the other dimensions.
"Which…" she has to breathe through the thickness in her throat. The orange burns in her mind.
"Which dimension?"
TIME: UNKNOWN
LOCATION: UNKNOWN
Deep in the foul entrails of a repugnant dimension, the Ghost Rider straightens. A diabolical awareness resonates within it.
Robbie Reyes, its current host, stirs from the stupor he usually slips into whenever Vengeance takes over. "Can we try something other than the usual fire-and-brimstone?"
"Hunting anchors with your brother has made you soft."
"No, it has kept me informed. This one is too powerful. It needs a delicate touch."
"Especially if I'm right about the dimension it's latched on to."
—-
In different dimensions, two brothers bound to magic unknowingly echo each other's words.
"You might've heard of it. It's called the Soul World."
Mass Effect Context
News Anchors
All the anchors are drawn from the various canon networks mentioned throughout the trilogy. I have been specific in the way I have distributed them.
Amita Qasid, political correspondent for ANN Earth Standard. I've used her for all political news within Earth.
Christine Everhart, anchor for ANN Headlines Now. Interstellar news; first-on-scene. Fits well with her character, no? Obviously, from MCU. So I figured she jumped wagons and got onto ANN as soon she figured out which way the winds were blowing.
What can I say; Christine's an opportunist.
Shirin Kazemi, anchor for the Constant Times. Limited to Earth and any colonies.
Iris Dunnigan, for Headlines Now. Earth-based only, first-on-scene.
Symbolic Alliance
Despite successful expansion and colonization of various worlds, the Systems Alliance wasn't taken all that seriously, as it was considered to lack the authority of individual nations.
It only gained popularity following a major event that introduced humanity to the galactic stage, an event I will be addressing a few chapters down the line.
Lady Liberty
And there it is; the end of my very first arc. Ah, the nostalgia.
I've been meaning to address this for a while now; the disappearance of the head of Lady Liberty is a huge Easter Egg. But never found an appropriate moment. This particular headline almost went to the cutting floor, and then I edited it a bit and brought it back.
SSV Sokovia
SSV Sokovia ER-1 is an Alliance frigate. According to canonical nomenclature, frigates are named after important battles. The most famous ship in canon is named Normandy, after the Battle of Normandy. It tickled me to use Sokovia. Plus, a subtle foreshadowing and a reminder that maybe, just maybe... that part of Collins' life isn't over yet.
Now, before you groan, I assure you, this future plotline will in no way be as... controversial as Age of ULTRON was. AoU, while a deeply flawed movie, was a treasure trove of information. And it fits perfectly with Mass Effect. You'll see how.
Have I ever let you down before? Well, other than update schedules.
Phil Coulson = Jon Grissom?
In canon, Jon Grissom was the first to go through the Charon Relay, and find himself in the Arcturus Stream. He became super famous for this; even had a premier school for young prodigies named after him. But I thought it'd be more fitting to have Coulson take his place instead.
And as AoS canon has already proved, Coulson Academy doesn't sound corny. Who knew?
Alec Ryder = pilot?
So, yeah, in my cross-iverse, Ryder has some excellent piloting skills along with engineering skills. Guy built an A.I.; I think he can pilot a starship. The lack of canonical information about him gives me a lot of freedom.
Gagarin Station
The Alliance purchased Gagarin in canon, but in my universe, the funds went to S.W.O.R.D., whose existence is heavily, heavily classified.
Comm Buoys
Comm buoys are tiny, primitive mass relays that facilitate instantaneous communication across different parts of the galaxy.
Their functionality is similar to the mass relay network. Each comm buoy is connected to another in the same network, and forms 'corridors of low mass' or 'FTL tubes' through which information is transmitted through lasers.
S.H.I.E.L.D. becoming the Systems Alliance was always in the cards. I could see it - instead of protecting Earth, they protect humanity across the stars.
What wasn't always in the cards was Coulson being forced into it. HYDRA's infestation this time can't be fixed by tossing all files into the internet willy nilly. Phil, instead, is thinking of doing something much more drastic - dissolving S.H.I.E.L.D. into the Alliance. Scorched earth policy.
I wanted a conflict though, which is why I added another pickle - Secretary Ross as a spokesman for the Alliance. It immediately puts off people from considering anything that comes out of his mouth, make them consider other alternatives - keeping S.H.I.E.L.D. alive under the jurisdiction of the UNIN. But that means HYDRA will be within UNIN too.
I love portraying in-universe politics. The Second Civil War, the Red Sand Conflict, and now this.
Interventionary Evolutionists
So, this is an actual concept that exists in the ME Universe. It's a parallel that I couldn't help but take advantage of. There are times when the story just writes itself.
Spaceport Explosion/HYDRA
The Spaceport Explosion was a thing that happened in ME canon. Conducting electricity through impure Eezo is highly dangerous in canon. It created the very first wave of eezo-exposed transhumans. In canon, it really was an accident, but I figured I could twist it here.
Henry Lawson already has a lot of Prothean data on how Eezo interacts with humans, plus he indirectly contributed to Erich Paine's experiments. I figured HYDRA would be all over it, in the guise of 'investigation' and 'cataloguing'.
Since Mars, Barnes has been hunting HYDRA, exactly like he promised.
Daisy was the perfect choice for the convergence (which, henceforth, means the point where the two universes merge without breaking either canon). I couldn't help but draw parallels between her indirect responsibility in causing the Inhuman Outbreak and the Eezo Exposure.
Even Talbot recognises that she could be a powerful figure if he plays his cards well. A champion for Inhumans, for all transhumans. Which is why he nominated her to speak at the symposium.
But Daisy's having her own issues right now. Major issues.
Terra Nova
Terra Nova is situated in the Asgard System of the Exodus Cluster. I couldn't resist.
All of the events that happened in this chapter have been elaborated from the little information provided by canon. I might've shifted the timelines a bit, but that's par for the course for us.
So. Eden Prime. Where it all started, right? Boy, you don't know the half of it.
MCU Context
Coulson & Talbot
Seriously, I'm totally behind Coulson-Talbot bromance. Their banter in the show was one of the highlights. God, I miss it.
Peter Parker
I'm sorry about Peter and MJ. I think they make a great couple in MCU. But she was never gonna feature in this fic so I broke them apart. Really, really sorry.
As for what's been up with our favorite arachnid since the trip to Venice - well.
Peter joining S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy was, again, not planned. It just came to me. I was struggling to fit him in the narrative. My instincts were telling me he had an important part to play - I just didn't know what it was.
He had a tough time in school being outed. Even though he was acquitted, some people still wouldn't have believed his innocence, I think. And he'd have felt the weight of that.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, to me, is a place - at least it is, now - that takes in all sorts, without judgement or prejudice. It took Isabelle Collins when she underwent Terrigenesis.
Peter, because of his brilliance, joined the Science and Technology department, which usualy accepts only those who hold at least one PhD.
He took on xenotechnology as his major. I mean, are you surprised? He lost a lot to aliens. Plus, his brief time on the Peak, surrounded by Skrull tech, sparked an interest.
He's still lost, though. Unsure of where to go beyond this.
It was never gonna be realistic for him to be okay with what happened. In no way do I mean to disparage MIT, btw. I think it's a great uni. It's Peter's own low opinion of himself that makes him think that MIT wants to use him.
Thaddeus Ross
So, my Ross is a little OOC, as compared to the MCU Ross. He's more of a - how did Talbot put it - overgrown, egotistical man-child. Mainly because he was Decimated, and he lost a lot of power as a result. It made him become even more unhinged. I don't know; I like writing him like this.
Plus, Talbot's reaction to him is priceless. Especially when you consider Talbot and Ross were buddies in the comics.
The Stinger
The Stinger is a second-generation base of Nick Fury's in Madripoor. I haven't read the relevant comics, so I have no idea what second-gen means, but I figured, in this context, it could be a post-HYDRA Uprising base.
F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted S.H.I.E.L.D. forces almost immediately after Daisy was caught in the explosion, and they brought her here. Poor Daisy. Poor Phil.
Retro-reflective tech ~ Infiltrator Cloak: Yet another point of convergence. The same tech that's used to make a Helicarrier inviisble has been repurposed for individual use. Which is what the infiltrator class protagonists use in the games.
Soul World: I hoped you paid attention in Infinity War and Endgame, cuz this place
... Well, you'll see.
Suffice to say, Morgan's in a lot of trouble.
General Context
Ice Skating
I've never had the pleasure of ice skating. So everything that I've described comes from poring over how-to wikis and other sources. Boy, the things we do for our passion, eh? Let me know if there are any mistakes.
Next chapter: I'm gonna bring in a few characters you're never gonna guess!