A/N: Yo! SteinMon here!
I'm late, I know. Plan was to have this chapter out by Sunday. Monday at the latest. And here I am, and it's Friday. It's... been a rough week. Browser randomly shut down and deleted what edits I had made (that's what I get for not saving regularly), still busy job searching, and my grandpa died last week. The funeral is in about a week, so I'll be taking some time away from the keyboard. The fam's been seeing him degrade for a while now, and he repeatedly refused treatment, so we'd been expecting it for a while now. It was at the point where the rest of us were just waiting for the phone call. Just thought I'd tack this on.
Editing is going pretty good, I think. Changes and fixes aplenty, though it'll stay largely the same. Don't forget to check out the Forum at Fanfiction: "/forum/Resonance-a-SteinMon-Forum/240008/". Would love to read from you guys. Polls are still up as well, so feel free to check those out.
Minus the extras, this chapter is bordering on 14k words. Geez Louise.
I've been checking over old Reviews, and I appreciate the constructive criticism offered. While I won't claim a perfect story, I at least want to write something that I myself enjoy, and hope that you guys do too.
That being read, I welcome your Reviews. If you have criticisms, I welcome those too. Please keep them constructive. I want to grow as an author, and I can't do that if people aren't willing to critique, or only want to tear me down. I'm not here to please everybody, but I am here to learn. There is a method to my madness, even if I don't always fully understand it. 90% of what I write, I don't write baselessly. If there is something not canon or changed from canon, there is generally a reason. If something doesn't make sense, feel free to let me know (constructively), and as long as it doesn't creep into SPOILER! territory, I'll do my best to explain it.
Also, please realize that I enjoy responding to the Reviews I receive. Unfortunately, it does inflate the word count quite a bit, but I don't have a lot of options otherwise. This is part of my process, and I enjoy connecting with readers, even if it's only briefly. Each chapter (save for earlier ones) should be over 10,000 words minimum; if that helps at all.
If you don't like it, DON'T CONTINUE READING IT!
Review Responses:
- daniel12997: Appreciate it.
- NumeralFuture11: Ch. 12-Thanks man. It's tough, and a little time-consuming, but it can be rewarding.
Ch. 13-lol. Yeah. Fair bit. While the 'Status' page at the end of the chapters seems big, it's currently less than 300 words. It's just... really lengthy. It helps me keep track of everything though.
- "seer": I'm glad.
- "Guest": Way ahead of you. While not exactly the same, I add something similar, but yeah, that would be funny.
- ChuggaHunter: Here's more.
- JCY7: Thanks. Kingpin is an interesting character to write about.
- Marssius: Do you mean "the Boxer" manhwa? I've heard it's a pretty good Manhwa, but it wasn't something that initially interested me. Your thoughts?
- arrogant-punk: Ch. 1-For fun mostly. And to do something a little different from what I've read. Most Gamer-type fic's I've read were so immersed in the Game aspect, that it put character on the back-burner. Not all, just most. So I created a System that catered to the verse, instead of having the verse cater to the System. Hopefully that explains it.
Ch. 11-Pending what you mean by "short-sighted" and "self-destructive" since I'm not sure if I understand what you're referencing. He joined boxing for the 'Skill' leveling and EXP mostly, since combat is the fastest way to level; and quests rewards require winning. Unreasonable prowess would have been necessary against people who would otherwise kick his butt (i.e. Packer and Jameson). I don't know about him "daring" anyone to come after him, but what kind of contingencies could someone make against someone with Wilson Fisk's contacts, money, power, and reach? Sometimes, the best way to dissuade a predator is to hide in the shadow of something bigger and badder.
Assuming that Fisk was keeping tabs on Marcus, I would like to hear how you would neutralize such a threat. While I am admittedly more focused on plot-points that lead to bigger goals, I'm curious what alternative you might have had in mind. Knowing that SHIELD is flawed and shadow-run by HYDRA? Yes. But attempting to maintain it's original purpose, no matter how flawed, for when Endgame is staking half the sentient Universe? Also yes.
No, he doesn't think he can better them. It was always in his plan to get on SHIELD's radar. Fisk just sped up the time-table, and prompted more reckless action. At worst, he loses, nothing changes, and he 50-50's getting turned to dust 10 years down the line, if he isn't killed sooner; at best, he gets to obtain noteworthy abilities and skills that'll help him in his end goal. High-Risk, High-Reward.
- Williams1996: Now there's a thought. Qi and Chi are interchanged synonymously, yes. While that is a good idea in general, my philosophy with Marcus is to keep him honest, or at the very least, avoid him lying when necessary; it would make it harder for him to keep the facts straight if he's lying. Plus, I don't want to taint his projection of his family, especially with them out of the picture. You'll find out that in a little bit ;)
- SRPA Sentinel: Right! "What's that? You'll kill for an education? You're hired!"
- Cranium9: Fair point. I ran you're idea, and it might be easier to increase the drain on Hydration though, since VIT is the stat for both of them. At the very least, it might look cleaner. Thoughts?
- Gvagore: I guess you'll find out soon ;)
- DredgenVayn: I prefer to reserve the jokes for when Marcus is among friends. "Why antagonize an antagonist while they're already antagonized?" But that's just me.
- Belthezzor: A fair point. My plan was to keep it as is, but the more I thought about future Marcus, the less growth I saw, both as a character, and in his abilities. The idea of writing him like that just struck me as a bland, and I didn't want to write a simple rehash of the Manhwa. I think a System should cater more to the world, than the other way around, so I believe it would update to maximize it's User's potential 'Verse to 'Verse, that includes in a human capacity. Not sure where you're deriving your "looking for an advantage" point, if you could clarify where that fits in so I can understand your thoughts, I'd appreciate it. I think that's an interesting point about "reality-warping powers", but my thought is, who would want to be a proverbial god if they know they'd make a terrible one?
Whether or not you're still reading, thanks for taking the time to respond.
- Adryn Nighthunter: And here's that next chapter!
- Camsonius: Heh, oops. Coulson was a little harder to nail down than I thought he'd be, but I'm glad I did good by him. He's one of my favorite characters.
Admittedly, it was an info dump chapter, simply because it opened up a lot of choice and variation potential that required Marcus's direct action instead of passive action, and I struggled with how to write it myself. My own indecisiveness may have reflected in that. Hopefully I can fix some of that up in editing. I am curious however what you meant by "stat exploration". I reread it a couple of times and I couldn't pinpoint what you were referring to. Sorry. And no burning buildings, please.
- Geek-God of Speed: True, that is an option, though I couldn't really imagine Marcus as a Spider-dude. Cool idea, just not something I had thought of for him.
- TooBad69: That was my original plan, but that backfired really quick. There's a lot to get down, in short, segmented timeframes, and I wasn't sure how to split it up amicably. Plus, I just kinda gravitate towards longer chapters.
- Going Dark: Fair. I've had a few comments about that already, and there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it at the time of writing. Hopefully I can clean it up a bit in editing. There might be a chapter or two of those, especially if it involves Marcus making choices that directly impact his Skills or System, so heads-up.
- Joe Lawyer: Since my response would have been exceptionally chatty, I went ahead and sent you a Private Message. Hopefully that is okay.
- .upg: And here's more.
- HakumeiRyuga: Not sure about quick, but here it is.
- Giltlawyer9000: Fingers crossed anyway.
- Maybe268: Thanks.
- arawiguM: Woah. Full binge? Noice.
- XenoLucifer: Maybe not, but it seemed more in line with a 'Survival'-prompted Gamer-based System to have numerical values for Hunger and Thirst. If nothing else, having those as an indicator is fine, but no reason not to have both physical prompts and numerical values.
- "Lamont": Lots of good points. Still kinda on the fence about it though. While it's seems fine for the small-scale stuff like groceries (DoorDash style), all I can picture is Marcus buying an RPG mid-fight, and then it kinda spirals from there. Though I like the idea of Faction passives, that seems pretty cool. Still tweaking with the idea though.
- truck-kun1999: I mean, it's kinda personal to me... but I don't mind. Just send me a link to whatever you write with it and maybe a half-sentence disclaimer, 'cause that'd be a cool read. And who knows, I might pick up a thing or two. Ya never know. Main requirement is to just have fun with it.
- tobikempachi: Some of the best scenes from movies, shows, and stories are the "fack it!" scenes.
- Jason29: *snorts loudly*
- Rangle: Ch.1-I'll be the first to admit that, with Reviews, I'm not great a reading with positive (or neutral) intention. And I have overreacted to some potentially neutral-Reviews. And while I'm not sure if you were just glancing over my responses, or if you actually dug into the Reviews to see what I was replying to; I don't think that applies to someone calling my story "trash" for arbitrary and uninformative reasons. It's even harder to read intent when you ask me (even if it's nicely) to stop posting my stories, based on some of my review responses, with seemingly incomplete information. I don't mind criticism when it's clear and informative, and gives me the opportunity to think about potential improvements. Giving vague responses to a perceived issue, with no point-of-reference that I can go back over and observe, is hardly what I'd call critiquing. And as much as I wish I understood what you mean by "limiting agency" and "plot before balance", I... don't. If you don't mind spending a moment, I'd like to ask you what you mean by those.
Ch.2-I could argue that since it's the MCU, suspension of disbelief is already a thing, but I realize that's something I might have to re-establish, given a mixture of old and new rules.
Ch.11-You are one of four or five people to say that, but only one of those people has explained what they meant by "can't be called a Gamer fic anymore". I could argue that any story that incorporates game-like elements into it that caters to the world the MC is inhabiting, could be considered a Gamer-fic. Then again, what constitutes a "Gamer-fic" might be different person to person. But how would I know that? Most people don't explain what they believe constitutes a gamer-fic, so I'm once again left assuming negative intent. But for real though! If I ever did get into original published works, I totally would need a strict editor! You won't hear any arguments from me there.
I appreciate that you read as far as you did, and while I don't understand a lot of what you're referencing or trying to point out; it was kept largely civil for the most part. And while using your own Fanfic handle. That's more than a lot people have done, so even if we only butt heads on this; respect man.
- JoeMcLuvin: *chuckles* sorry! I had myself a good laugh when I read your Fanfic handle. It's even funnier if I keep saying it. I appreciate it though.
- scyfly: Ch.2-I might just be too tapped out right now, but I honestly can't tell if you're asking a genuine question, or just being sarcastic. Sorry in advance. A prompt setup would have acted as a sort of bug, which once triggered would have informed Jarvis, who then takes action as he registers the computer's originating I.P. address, which - once granted - gives access to the most resent search histories from that I.P. address. I'm assuming a lot because I don't know a whole bunch about computers, hacking, or A.I., but I've heard Secret Service stories, and I try to do my research. Considering Tony hacked the Pentagon as a teenager, I'm inclined to believe Jarvis is capable.
Ch.5-Well, thanks for reading. I realize it's not everyone's cup of tea. And heck no dude! It might be tiresome, but I enjoy this kind of stuff! Wouldn't write about it otherwise. If for no one else, I'm writing that stuff for me, and if a few other people don't mind it, then it's fine. It's a big world, and the System is merely a medium through which the MC gets to experience it.
- gamerjames27: Woah dude. You binged it? Noice.
*End of Responses (breathes a sigh of relief)
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gamer, or the Avengers, or any of their subsidiaries. Those rights belong exclusively to whoever owns them, and anyone else who had a hand in their creation. I just get to have fun with it all.
I would also like to point out that I don't own any other media or content that may be mentioned as further enrichment to the story.
If the story isn't to your liking, I can respect that. But I'm not concerned with writing a surface level story with a surface level character and surface level plot that makes things easy to explain or understand. I want to read a story with depth, about a character with depth, so I'm going to write depth. I'm gonna write stories I would want to read. And if other people like what I share, then I've already done more than I set out to do.
Without further ado. *Que the dimming of the lights*
Chapter 12: Risky Negotiations
Marcus shifted uneasily, head in his hands while actively wanting to take an Men in Black neuralyzer to the face. Like he'd predicted, he was seated in a black van, with the back seats lined along each wall, sandwiched between two agents, with Coulson sitting right across from him. He looked like he was biting back a comment that would further embarrass Marcus.
Coulson had ordered, "Seatbelts," the moment they'd settled in.
And Marcus had responded, "Love you too," purely out of instinct.
His mom had long since taught him that wanting people to be safe was an act of love, and had conditioned all her children to that response when reminding or being reminded to put on their seatbelts. And to this day, it had stuck.
Normally, he was the one telling Matt and Foggy to put on their seatbelts, not expecting that reciprocation. And now, his first time being told to put on his seatbelt since he'd entered this world, and he was reaping years of ingrained conditioning at 26 years old. Thanks Mom!
He'd quickly put his seatbelt on before trying to bury his face in his knees, particularly when the agents next to him snickered. Congrats to him, he'd made an impression on Coulson and handful of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, just not the impression he'd wanted to.
Besides being embarrassing, it drew his attention inward to a still gaping wound, and the reminder of where he was. But most importantly, it reminded him where he wasn't, and would probably never be again.
Right. Distractions. He had to do those more now. Gather info. He could do that. He was getting better at it. Even a non-answer was still an answer.
"How long is this ride?" he asked, finally removing his hands from his face, looking back up at Coulson. "This gonna be a road-trip, or are we flying at some point?"
Phil Coulson had been looking at him, as if pondering him, with something of a grim look on his face. Probably from what Marcus had told him. "It'll be over before you know it. I recommend you get settled."
"Is that including bathroom breaks?" Marcus asked, "I mean, I can wait. My dad taught me to hold it for hours at a time when needed, but I need to know how often this wagon is stopping before I commit."
"Possibly," Coulson answered vaguely. He just smiled gently, like he was trying to keep from telling a joke, which answered absolutely none of Marcus's questions. And of course, the lady agent next to him snorted. He briefly glanced at the agents next to him. Curious.
{Melinda May Lvl ?
"Agent of the S.H.I.E.L.D." – CLEARANCE '?'…}
.
{Felix Blake Lvl ?
"Agent of the S.H.I.E.L.D." – CLEARANCE '?'…}
.
Marcus hummed back, looking towards the front of the van. It wasn't a great vantage for tracking highway signs or narrow down directions. He wasn't actually sure how black sites worked, much less Black Curtains. Logically, he didn't think small towns were a great idea, since it was easier to notice newcomers. Isolated areas were better simply for the sheer lack of human encroachment, but were generally difficult to reach except through extended or specialized means; like flight.
Larger cities seemed more logical, since it was easier to disappear in a city, they were easier to access via roadways; and Marcus assumed that a heavy-hitter like S.H.I.E.L.D. could probably take full control over any street-side camera anyway. It just took some prep to isolate any noise that might take place during interrogations, which he assumed wasn't so hard for a super-agency. A few cells here and there, and you had a decent number of places to work with, that was inconspicuous to anyone but the most ingrained of locals.
That shit was scary when you actually thought about it.
'If I were a black site that I needed completely Black Curtained (que giddy little shiver since he knew what it was called now), with information that could be expedited to a head honcho like Nick Fury, where would I be?' Marcus wondered as he vaguely reobserved his options.
With Coulson playing coy, Marcus was left to his own devices. From what he remembered, there should be one in Washington D.C., which was… what?
[Mapping…
Approximately 4 hours, 15 minutes. Pending traffic.]
Oh sweet [Cartography] 'Skill'! Approximately four-and-a-half hours away then. Doable. That seemed right. 'Of course the super-spy agency would be in Washington D.C.'
Anticipating that they probably wouldn't be stopping for dinner, Marcus decided to bunker down. His ankles crossed as he rested the backs of his hands on his knees, slipping into his 'Breathing Technique' and 'Meditations' as his eyes closed. With the [Tranquility of Water] -half of his 'Skill' stacking his 'Meditation' bonuses, he quickly made a note to begin researching more types of meditation when he got the chance. If he could make more 'Skills', those stacking bonuses would be a huge boon early on, and kick-ass later on once they gained some traction. At the very least, it would make up for his lower-than-average 'VIT-acquisition', and speed up his 'regen'.
He had four-and-a-half hours to grind out in one setting. He'd almost managed three hours in his old world, when it was just self-taught. Break his record seemed unnecessary, and daunting, if only because he'd never had that much free time before since… well, ever. An extra one or two levels apiece could only help.
…
Phil Coulson watched as their current charge slipped into something resembling a meditative position, looking a bit awkward, especially in the van's confines, with an agent smooshed snuggly on either side of him. He blinked curiously when he noted the humming that began to drone gently from him. It seemed to follow some semblance of melody if nothing else, coupled with his breathing drawing out into controlled and even paces. A practiced routine then.
He stared at him, with some sense of demand and intensity. He wasn't even sure what that might look like from the outside. As an agent, he was expected to not bring his personal feelings into any given situation. Or at least, be removed enough from it that he could still operate efficient and effective. That wasn't so easy now.
Mister Kendrick appeared nervous; the open meditation, possibly a tick to mute or regulate said nervousness. Or possibly to dissuade conversation; possibly hinting at skittish social behavior. Nervousness was natural. Most people were when confronted by higher authorities, assuming they didn't have an over-inflated sense of self-confidence (read: arrogance). He was also using their agency as a means to escape, or at the very least, as a retreat. No one dropped so many l secrets so flippantly unless they were blowing the whistle, or wanted to be found. That made him either foolish, calculated, or both.
He was also paranoid, at least in regards to the agents that came with Phil. Every other agent was brushed with a suspicious look from him, coupled with subtly leaning away; there was no such movements in regards to himself. That Mister Kendrick considered him a… well, not a non-threat… but a source of trust, was something that could be leveraged, and admittedly had been.
At least, enough to pique his curiosity. And if Coulson was honest, there was even a lingering sense of dread that had built up.
Four words. Four little words.
If Mister Kendrick had been trying to grab his attention, he'd done it in the most terrifying and alluring fashion; just the right words, with just the right impact. And no more could be coaxed from him.
Assuming he was telling the truth. But there were decidedly too many coincidences not to add up. This man knew things. Things he shouldn't. Things that most people had no right knowing. And that made his distrust of everyone but Coulson something of an intriguing puzzle to him. While S.H.I.E.L.D. was by no means a completely clean-run agency, they were the good guys.
Even if Phil debreviated the acronym on purpose; if only to watch as everyone's eyes glazed over the moment he started reciting it. He rehearsed it at least once a morning in the mirror and everything.
But that distrust added some levity to his desire to keep things Black Curtained. Particularly if he was willing to stake his "life and freedom" on the information he possessed. Of course, Coulson anticipated that he would want something in return, though he couldn't fathom what that could be. Few people wouldn't; in his experience, those that didn't want anything were either patriotic zealots, mindless drones, authentically good men, or any variation of a person who wanted for nothing.
At best, Mister Kendrick possessed vital information; information S.H.I.E.L.D. could – and would – make use of. At absolute worst, time and resources had been wasted on a wild goose chase. He had to know that either way, the agency wouldn't be letting him go, which made the entire situation either incredibly foolish for exposing what he knew, or his actions were pre-meditated and still foolish.
But, even he could admit there was a degree of… calculation to his method.
Four words. Four little words that would keep him invested unless the Director ordered him off. Words that had him actively stopping himself from reaching inside of his jacket pocket. Not here. Not now. And certainly not in front of other agents. It would be easier if the escort was just comprised of him and–
"You think he can hear us like that?" Melinda asked, leaning out from her seat to get a better look at their current assignment.
"I'd assume so," Coulson answered as he saw the corner of Kendrick's eye flick, keeping the quirk of amusement off his face. "It's meditation. Not sleep."
His mission partner gave him a 'no shit' look before giving him a side-glanced smirk. "Still, it's pretty intense," she stated, gently bumping Kendrick's knee with her own. Kendrick shifted slightly, his body suddenly shrinking in on itself to preserve space. Like one of those weird plants Coulson had seen on the Discovery Channel that would curl in on itself when disturbed. Odd.
"We could have just stuck 'im," the other agent stated with a sigh of long-suffering.
"Yes, Blake. Because shooting someone full of sleepy-time in the neck is just the thing to build trust and cooperation," Melinda stated, bobbing her head sarcastically.
"You two are more grating than my sisters," Kendrick groaned, eyes still closed as he resettled. "You wouldn't want me to sleep. I'll snuggle to the nearest warm body like a rattlesnake. And I snore. And I occasionally drool. Besides… those syringes cost tax dollars. I'd rather just come in quietly."
Phil looked between his fellow agents with an amused smile. "Well, you heard him."
Both May and Blake snorted, Blake sounding more put out while May appeared to be entertained by the exchange.
It grew quiet again. Mostly out of necessity. Agents couldn't talk shop with a civilian – much less with a potential liability and/or asset – present. They could try to get Kendrick to slip up some information, but Phil got the feeling that he was on guard against that, especially since the tension hadn't left his body even after leaving the police station.
And Phil had never really been a fan of torture; it was more likely to yield false information than anything. Given how careful Kendrick seemed to be, there was also the chance – however low – of him purposefully dropping baited information. The last thing Phil wanted to lead a team into was a trap.
"We're here."
Marcus blinked from his meditation as the van stopped, the blare of car horns behind them incredibly loud. He was quite suddenly, confused. It felt like… like they hadn't been driving for very long. Had he fallen asleep? No. He wasn't near groggy enough. What on Earth?
Pulling up 'Maps', he saw he was still in New York. Literally just a hop and a skip from Hell's Kitchen. 'The fuck?!'
He remembered there being a S.H.I.E.L.D. something or other in New York, given Captain America would eventually wake up there, but he didn't think it was active yet. Still, Marcus didn't appreciate being blindsided like this.
"I like you a lot less now," he stated aloud to Coulson, earning another snort from the lady agent. "Sooo… no bag over the head in a back alley?"
"No need," Blake stated as he pushed open the van door, exposing them to New York rush-hour traffic as people were trying to get home from their 9 to 5's. And they were not happy with a stopping van if the horn blaring was anything to go by. "If you try to run, or turn out to be a threat, we'll just kill you. Nothing a bullet or knife wouldn't fix." Too casual. Especially since he sounded somewhat humorous about it. Blake's otherwise stoic demeanor just oozed cheer.
And just like that, Marcus's trap sealed shut as he followed him out. A stark reminder that these people were spies, assassins, saboteurs, and brutes when necessary. And he was a former lawn mower, busboy, and most recently, boxer. Just as well, since he wasn't going to tell anyone about his 'Cartography' skill, or about the 'Maps' function; because that would lead into a very uncomfortable conversation about his 'Gamer'-ish abilities.
[Put a pin on the building?]
'Please,' Marcus confirmed, getting a vague… feeling… as this place get marked on his 'Maps'. 'And–'
['Inspect' and 'Observe'. Yeah, yeah, I know.]
'Appreciate it.'
[S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ (hidden) {revealed}
219 W 47th Street, Manhattan
Serves as one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s primary bases of operation. It is occupied by highly trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and personnel, conducting varies projects and research assignments.
WARNING: This area is occupied by a mixture of medium- and high-level enemies(?).
Recommended Lvl: 55, and a prayer or six.
Floors: '?'
Occupants: '?'
NOTE: Don't do anything stupid. And again, pray.]
.
'Noted,' he agreed. "And just off of Broadway too," Marcus muttered. "Lovely." Too think, he'd been this close to it for the past four months. Which was probably the point of it; hiding in plain sight.
Still, Coulson patting him on the shoulder was noted, even if Marcus was sure that the extent of his reassurance was more out of interest in what else Marcus had to say. Coulson quickly began leading them, May and Blake bringing up the rear, while the driver pulled the van away with the already congested traffic, presumedly to park the van. While Marcus wasn't necessarily looking to escape, the option to do so was suddenly very limited with him being boxed in as they crossed the sidewalk, past a line of bollards and into the building.
Marcus immediately blinked, somewhat surprised by how spacious the halls felt, almost weirded out by it. He could almost ignore the other agents – all dressed in their suits – coming and going about their business. Maybe one or two of them took a curious moment to observe them. It made Marcus feel vastly underdressed.
Coulson walked right past the lobby without any concern, and Marcus hastily tried to catch up when he paused in surprise. No checking-in, it would appear. Or was it because it was Coulson's entourage? Did agencies do check-in's like at hotels?
They entered a nearby elevator set into the back of a nearby wall, a snug fit with all four of them together. The moment the doors closed, the sound of something sealing thunked into place, making Marcus swallow nervously. Coulson – cool as a cucumber – shifted over to the panel, leaning his face in for what Marcus assumed was a retinal scanner. And judging by how his hand was positioned… an imprint scanner?
Either-or, the elevator started… rising? …yeah, rising, a moment later.
[Hoo-ho-ho! This is exciting!]
'Speak for yourself.'
Marcus had to resist the urge to snort aloud, opting to roll his eyes instead. It really was, but his excitement was curbed by how much more intimidating it was. The experience summed as a little less daunting than meeting Fisk, but not by much. With Fisk, it was a matter of maneuvering and slipping out of his grasp with few positives and no willingness on his part. With S.H.I.E.L.D., he had to prove he could be a boon to an international super-spy agency, without letting them exert too much force over him. Not to mention capitalizing on what little he knew without making it obsolete, or – at the very least – create new scenarios that netted more positives than negatives.
Still though… exciting. Even if there wasn't any elevator music.
A few floors up, he felt that heavy sensation as the elevator slowed down to a stop, feeling an almost irritable bounce of rampant nervous energy start to jitter in his knee as he tried to keep still.
To his almost-disappointment, it was another game of 'Follow the Agent' as Coulson lead them through another hall, eventually coming to a door marked 'L-28' that Coulson paused at. Without hesitating, he began pulling out a number of objects, including his phone, handing them over to Agent May. He gestured to Marcus with his chin, "You too."
Marcus hesitated for a moment before shrugging and raising his arms instinctively as Blake began patting him down. It wasn't invasive, but he got way to close to varies areas that made Marcus clench uncomfortably.
"What? Nothing?" Blake asked, both in disbelief and in disappointment. "Not even a wallet?"
"I packed light," Marcus quipped, giving him a cheeky smirk that was absolutely meant to irritate him. It worked. What could he say; Blake just rubbed him the wrong way, even if Marcus wasn't already suspicious of virtually every agent he'd seen.
With that Coulson turned to his fellow agents, stating, "No one else comes in. Anyone asks, tell them–"
"Black-Curtained, interrogation-in-progress," May interrupted with an easy response as she pocketed Coulson's items. Blake gave her a disapproving stare but nodded to Coulson in acknowledgement.
"Good," Coulson responded. He pushed open the door, holding it open for Marcus to follow through. And follow he did.
[!New Quest: Negotiation – Joining S.H.I.E.L.D.!]
Initiating your 'Plan B', it's now up to you to negotiate your way into the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division; both for their resources, and for the abundant amount of 'Skills' and training you could receive. Preferably with a greater degree of your willingness and freedom intact. You'll need to operate at your absolute best, and even that might not be enough given the people you'll be dealing with.
'High Risk, High Reward' indeed.
Requirements:
- Successfully negotiate with a representative of S.H.I.E.L.D. in 'Black Curtain' conditions.
Reward:
- Identification Paperwork
- Obtain New Title 'Trainee of S.H.I.E.L.D. (RARE)'
- Obtain Occupation 'Asset of S.H.I.E.L.D.'
- Obtain Influence 'S.H.I.E.L.D. Clearance Level – 1'
- Some quests may be given by 'S.H.I.E.L.D.' in the future.
- Some quests may be given by '-you-know-what-' in the future.
- Some quests may be given by 'Nick Fury' in the future.
- 10000 EXP (+2500 EXP)
- 4 Evolution Points
- Additional Rewards pending other Quest factors ('Level of Successful Negotiation', 'Difficulty of Negotiation' and 'Based on Terms of Agreement').
Failure: Prepare to go away for a very long time. Possibly even subject to 'Enhanced Interrogation' (which you might be subjected to anyway).
.
'Oh. Lovely,' Marcus hummed to himself, somewhat worriedly. That was a lot of orbs, especially at his level, which meant a high-level quest; something intended for someone much higher in level if the assumed curve was anything to go off of. 'It's times like these that I wish I had a Charisma stat to dump some points into.' Nope. All he had was… himself. Not that he was confident he could ever make that stat high enough for his socially awkward face.
The room was… spacious. Much larger than Marcus thought it had any right to be. A very tall, studio room, devoid of anything notable save the white paneling on the wall, the off-segmented hard floor, and the overhead fluorescent lights, giving it that "empty warehouse" feel. In the center, a large pitch-black cubic-shape was set up, with no discernable features save its dimensions. Twelve feet tall, with plenty of clearance between it and the ceiling; and at least eighteen-by-eighteen feet wide. It was not small.
"What's that?" Marcus couldn't help but ask, beginning to deviate from his following as he began walking the edge of the odd structure. No one-way windows. No wiring along any edges that he could see. Nothing poking out the top either. And trust, he was checking very thoroughly with his friends [Observe] and [Inspect] on 'Line One'. All that was there was a single solitary door.
"You asked for a Black-Curtain interrogation," Coulson answered, watching him with something between seriousness and amusement. "No wires. No cameras. No electrical outlets either."
'How does that work?' he wondered, not seeing anything to the contrary. Not so much as a wire. There wasn't even ventilation on the cube. "I'm… I'm not even gonna lie, I'm actually impressed with the dedication here." He sent an uneasy glance at the top though, considering that they'd need a ladder to get on top; it would be so easy to hide something up there. "And you're sure about this being clear?"
Coulson frowned but stated, "It was all pre-checked. Black-Curtain's are specially secured. No info in or out. You're safe."
'Ha! Safe!' Marcus almost forgot how to laugh there for a second. Especially when the sky decided to open up right over their heads in a couple years.
"It's not just my ass if you're wrong," Marcus stated, looking pointedly at Coulson. "So are. You. Sure?"
The agent didn't back down, if anything he straightened up, giving him a look that seemed somewhere between serious and… approval? Marcus couldn't tell. "Positive."
It was a solid moment or two of Marcus and Coulson staring at each other, before Marcus finally relented. "Okay," he breathed, letting out a tight exhale. "Okay."
The tension retracted a bit, allowing them to take a second. After another moment, he stepped towards the door, gently opening it as he peered inside.
Like the outside, the inside was stark black; literally a "Black" Curtain, giving it an almost seamless and formless feeling that triggered a slight sense of vertigo the longer he looked at it. The furnishing in the room-within-a-room was standard for an make-shift interrogation room: with two foldable aluminum chairs a collapsing table dominating the center. The weird thing was the gas-powered camping lantern Marcus cocked his head at, considering it looked a lot like one of the ones his dad had been using for decades.
Snn. Snn. It even smelled the same.
Or at least, that should have been the weirdest thing in the room.
Another person was seated in one of the chairs, turning smoothly and intently, with a calm and collected look reflected in the lantern light that Marcus would have envied in… almost any other circumstance. Right now, he was just shooketh.
"So. I've been told, you have some information for me."
[Oh, fuck the User. Is that…?]
'Mmm-hmm,' Marcus stated, ignoring the fact that Sys was prepared to offer his ass up; the prick.
He wasn't paying much attention as Coulson closed the door behind them, standing at ease in front of it with his arms clasped in front of him.
His mouth opening and closing several times, Marcus finally managed to whisper, "Director Fury." All one eye and eyepatch, bald head, and black leather trench coat of Samuel L. Jackson in the literal flesh.
Slash his earlier comment. This wasn't as exciting anymore. Just more daunting.
"Hmm," he hummed, though whether it was curiosity or just basic acknowledgement was anyone's guess. Gesturing openly with a hand to the opposite chair, he said, "Take a seat." Again, the tone was a suggestion, but the wording was an order. Very 'Mace Windu'.
Gingerly, Marcus made his way around to the other side, and pulled out the chair. For the second time that day, he was in an interrogation room. At least this time, he wasn't cuffed, but it wasn't that much better by any means. Fury possessed a kind of… aura… around him. A calm and collected that made him seem so… unshakable. And suffocating.
"Do you know, why you are here?" Fury asked the moment he was settled.
Marcus's eyes darted back and forth across the table before he looked up in thought at what sounded like a loaded question. It was several moments before he looked back at Fury, noticing his one eye was still peering at him, unwavering. "I know why… I think I'm here," he answered slowly and gingerly, before admitting, "But I doubt it's what you have in mind."
"Hnn," Fury huffed, still staring at him. "You're here, because you went, and lit a fire under our asses. Just, to get our attention." He had been leaning forward gradually, something Marcus didn't notice until he was leaning back again. "Well you have it. So I'm hoping there was a very good reason, because I have every mind to bury you, so, very, deep."
Right. No guff. Straight to the point.
Deciding to try it one last time, he stated, "Last chance to tell me if there's any bugs or some shit." He looked over the lantern, half tempted to start taking it apart to look for anything suspicious, even as he ran his hands along the under-edge of the table.
"Checked it myself," Fury stated in a care-free casual that was anything but.
Good. Great. Fine. Marcus swallowed nervously, trying to ignore the present prickle that was climbing its way up his back.
[Ease up. Just think of it like a job interview.
And totally not like you're in the same room with one of the most dangerous men on this Earth. Who you also might've pissed off.
No pressure.]
'Sys, stop helping. I got a 'C' in my high school Speech class.' If he focused on that, he never would have gotten this far in the first place.
[Right. Shutting up.]
Here it went then; his greatest attempt at honest-bullshit ever. He could do this! "I guess… to start, my name is Marcus Ezekiel Kendrick, and as a denizen of an alternate Earth, I'd like to formally request asylum."
There was a pause. And a beat. And another, as both Fury and Coulson stared at him like he just told them he… … …. Actually, he didn't have a finisher to that one. This was the Marvel Universe. This place practically breathed impossible.
Suffice to say, they looked at him funny.
"An alternate, Earth?" Fury began again slowly.
"That… is the easiest way to put it," Marcus agreed just as slowly, giving him a concerned eye as he leaned away.
"Assuming of course you're not full of it, how exactly did that happen?" Fury pressed again.
"No clue," Marcus answered honestly, omitting his encounters with Sys of course. "One second, I'm lying in bed. Next second, I'm waking up in the middle of Central Park with a few braincells scrambled and plenty of indicators I'm not in Kansas anymore." He knocked a knuckle against his head for emphasis. "Not sure how it all works."
"And yet, you seem to know plenty," Fury countered, leaning back in his own chair. Almost self-assured. "Enough to send the CIA into an uproar, and my agents, scrambling like a bunch of jets, to put out the fires you caused."
"Yeah, apologies aren't gonna fix that," Marcus murmered with a wince, before shaking his head to refocus. "Again, not sure how it all works. I… know stuff. Among which, is that S.H.I.E.L.D. is a thing in this world, and rather than get caught flat-footed when things go to shit, I could just… push, the outcome in my favor."
"Is that all?" Fury asked, unimpressed, and Marcus could practically see Coulson leaning in from his position. Probably eager to tell Fury what Marcus had told him. Poor guy hadn't had a chance to interject yet, and was professional enough to wait until called. That was one of the reasons Marcus adored Phil as a character, and now… well, as a person. He was a real Boy Scout, and a good man. Flawed, sure; but good. Marcus was half-expecting him to raise his hand too. "Interesting tidbit aside, not exactly worth all the secrecy. Or the trouble you've caused."
"I'm leading up to that," Marcus explained, trying to keep up the confidence act. There was a method to his madness after all. Or, he hoped anyway. Especially since Sys had Marcus's bullet-point notes hovering right over Fury's head; they'd spent every spare moment since 'Plan B's' conception in arranging this, even if it was less a plan, and more a string of long-term goals and… necessary self-adjustments. Great on paper; terrifying in practice.
"But seeing as I don't want to end up in a hole once my usefulness has run out, I have conditions for any information I give." He waited a pause before clarifying. "I'm open to negotiations, but I would like it in writing. Because we're both aware that I'm eventually a sitting duck. No 'more or less' about it."
"Hm," Fury hummed. He quietly leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table and his hands clasping in front of him. The lantern light illuminating his face as he moved closer was… well, like a scary story around the campfire. Like Nick Fury was but one of the many boogeymen in the world; granted, a more neutral one, but one none-the-less. "Well? Let's hear these, conditions. Keeping in mind, of course, that you're already deep in the pot."
With two super spies in the room, Marcus didn't even try to keep up a front, sighing and moving on. Without further adieu, Marcus pulled a folded sheet of paper from the palm of his hand (read: his 'Inventory') to at least look like he wasn't going off the top of his head. It was otherwise redundant if he already had the notes to follow. If either agent was startled, they didn't really show it, but Marcus hoped they were paying attention now.
They were in control right now. They knew it, and Marcus wasn't convinced of his own self-importance to believe that they weren't letting him make conditions to lure him into a false sense of control. At least, until they swept his feet out from underneath him. Pessimistic? Maybe. But it would keep him from becoming complacent.
"First on the list…," he read off the top of Fury's dome, aiming to look anywhere but his eye. Or his patch. Or his shiny dome. Maybe his eyebrows? "…I need identification. The paperwork mostly. Birth certificate, some… some deep-dive confirmation that I exist in this world, even in the dullest sense of the word. Possibly previous tax records? Not sure how thorough it needs to be, but I'm assuming your tech-guys know. I can take care of my own driver's license once I have the paperwork, so that stuff can be pawned off on the DMV."
When Marcus paused, ever so briefly lowering his eyes to Fury's, Fury nodded for him to continue. So far, so good. "Second, I'd like to request to formally collaborate with… well, S.H.I.E.L.D."
Fury snorted, a solid emotion appearing briefly on Fury's face: Humor. "So you think, I'm just gonna give you free-roam in a government agency because… why? You're from another Universe? You have classified information you shouldn't?"
"No," Marcus stated as firmly as he could. "Which is why I'm requesting formal training as an agent to compliment that." Fury actively seemed to pause at that, tongue pushing on his cheek in thought. Coulson just looked… worried? "Preferably as a… well, a field agent."
"What did you do before you came here?" Fury asked after another moment, still clearly skeptical on the 'man-from-another-Universe' angle.
"Like, before I lit up the CIA? Or before I got transmigrated?" Marcus asked, for clarification.
Fury just stared with is one eye. Okay, both? Both. Both was good.
"Uh, I mowed lawns," Marcus stated before shrugging, not sure what Fury was looking for, but trying to piece it together anyway. "When I got here, I managed to snag a job cleaning and busing a bar. I also had the opportunity to feature in New York's rookie boxing circuit."
"And can mister lawn mower do what is required of a field agent?" Fury asked, a bit of taunt in his voice. Understandable really; Marcus having just admitted to being a low-tier blue-collar civilian.
"I… honestly, I don't know. But I'm not so optimistic to think I can afford not to get involved," Marcus replied gravely. The System would grant him the 'Skills' he'd need, he had no doubt about that. But it would also require him to sacrifice a little more of himself, and who he had been. And a little more. And a little more.
He couldn't be sure if he was carving a statue, or if he was chipping away at an already completed product.
"I mean… I don't want to," he admitted timidly, "but I can't ask someone for help and then sit back while they do the dirty work. That's… that's not me. And I'm not naïve enough to think I won't eventually have to… to kill someone. Be it for necessity, or survival."
He had to take a breath. He'd hunted with his dad before, killed animals because the overall meat processed and stored int he freezer was cheaper than store-bought. Plus his dad like tanning the hides into blankets. He knew how to kill for necessities sake.
But… as with every stereotypical idea like that… killing people was a whole different matter, even if one could consider a few of them monsters in human skin. Anyone could condemn with words, few could carry out the act themselves. 'Those who pass the sentence should swing the sword,' and all that implied. And still fresh in this world, he neither had the justification, nor the conviction to commit to that yet. He could die for a couple people easily. To kill for them though?
But he needed to. All with the Endgame in mind, even if it was still something that seemed so vague and far off.
Fury's eye softened somewhat, almost… not concerned, but… intrigued. "And what you know requires you know how to do that?"
"If my performance is acceptable in training, I'd like for it to open up to more long-term involvement. But I'll leave that to your discretion," Marcus continued on, gently brushing past Fury's question. He didn't want to think about it anymore than he had to at the moment. He was nauseous just admitting it.
"So you're willing, to become one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s assets then?" Fury asked.
"Consultant, yes," Marcus clarified immovably. Because 'assets' get used up and disposed of when they're no longer useful. If there was one thing Marcus wouldn't move on, it was that. "And third, I reserve the necessity to withhold information."
Coulson gave Marcus a little wince, like he pitied him. Yeah. Probably not the best condition, but a necessary one none-the-less.
"Not happening," Fury stated instantly as he settled back. No hesitation. One-eighty. "Since you have conditions, here's one for you: 'Full-Disclosure'."
"Not happening," Marcus repeated back at him heatedly. "I'm willing to cooperate, but not if it means I sink myself in the process. If I tell you everything, what are the chances I don't end up disappearing? I might just disappear anyway. You're the super-spy here. I may be at your convenience right now, but I am not at your whim." Self-preservation was supposed to be a helluva drug, and Marcus knew he should get some.
Fury went quiet as he observed that brief exchange. Marcus likewise took a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath. "Sorry. There are things you need to know regardless of any deal we make. But this is… delicate. There's… there's only so much I have the power to change."
Change? What change? Curiosity seeped into Fury's thoughts as he began stringing together things. Alternate Earth. Inter-dimensional travel. Aware of information he shouldn't know. Carefully controlling information, as though the outcome already had a pre-destined path laid out.
Change.
The intensity in Fury's eye seamlessly bled deeper and deeper into curiosity. Watching as the man across from him drew out his mouth, as though trying to think of something he could give without compromising his already precarious position. Frankly, he was fucked, but then again... weren't they all?
"Answer me this," Fury stated, drawing Marcus attention back up. "Do you know what will happen?"
Marcus's shoulders tightened at his question. Unfortunately, he was shit at lying. A bad trait for someone dealing with spies, he knew. "I know... a version... of what will happen."
Fury was someone who had witnessed and experienced plenty of things the average man, woman, and even child, would consider… impossible. What was someone who had been shunted between Universes, and – evidently – had knowledge of potential future events. Was it causation or correlation consequently? Who knew. While he wasn't sure how much he believed, he could be sure that Marcus Kendrick believed every word he spoke. He was an open book like that. Which made him either crazy, one helluva liar, or he was telling the truth.
And for someone trying to leverage information, he was far too willing to be honest.
"Do you know specifics?" Coulson asked, his softer approach immediately catching Marcus's attention.
'Bad spy, sort-of-good spy,' Marcus humored weakly to himself. 'Sorry Phil, but no more outright freebies.'
"Major events mostly. Some minor ones. Specific things about specific people," Marcus stated, still keeping his cards close. "It's all in passing, so it's nothing overly focused. Just enough to get a bleak, bigger picture."
"Bleak huh?" Fury mused aloud, allowing that line of thought to string to another as it painted something interesting. After all, why would anyone with future knowledge want to risk their life on a gamble like this, unless the future didn't look so bright. "How many people die?"
Marcus blinked. Almost stunned by the question. "Wha?"
"You clearly have an endgame in mind," Fury pointed out, not realizing just how on point he was. "You wouldn't be trying to cooperate or be asking for my help otherwise. And since you know so much, I'm asking how many casualties, I can expect if we stay the course… so to speak."
Any remaining fire drained from Marcus's eyes as the weight of what he was trying to avert made itself known. All that was left was the faint flickering spark that resided in his chest. A kind of… long-term helplessness; as though he didn't know of any other way to fix it except by doing it himself, even if he fucked it up in the process. And that was a lot of pressure. For any man.
And he needed their help to change him into someone capable of not just weathering, but preventing what could and would happen.
"Tell me how many stars are in the sky," Marcus answered in defeat, earning a startled look from Coulson, and a puzzled one from Fury. "I'm not sure how big the Universe is, but half of its denizens are in the crossfire. Because the Endgame is preventing half of all sentient life from being snuffed out; on this world, and that of all others; numbers beyond our comprehension. And that's not to mention the death toll between now, and then." And preventing the death of his heroes if he could help it, even if it was just a weak, childish notion.
And that was just the original timeline. Doctor Strange had said something like… oh fuck it! One to some absurdly high number; and that was just to win. There was even a meme about it. Marcus didn't want to win. He wanted victory for this Universe. No matter how inglorious. And why would he ask someone else to carry that on their shoulders, when he was perfectly capable of crushing himself under that weight.
"What kind of threat has that kind of power?" Fury demanded, trying and failing to wrap his head around the sheer vastness that entailed, despite his awareness that they weren't alone in the Universe. And Marcus couldn't blame him. He couldn't even imagine that on a local level. New York City already seemed so vast and massive to him. How did one measure that on a planetary or galactic level? But half the Universe? Half.
"Someone so caught up in their own ego and sadism, that they're incapable of being convinced otherwise," Marcus stated. "And they're not that powerful. Not yet."
It was quiet for a long time, neither side speaking as a weight settled on the Black Curtain. Now everyone had a glimpse of the big picture, and it was bleak.
"How long do we have?" Fury asked after a moment.
"If things 'stay the course'? Ten years… I think… give or take. And even that's generous," Marcus stated tiredly. "I don't know the exact dates, only that there's… really… not a lot of time. If things stay the same, it converges on Earth, and everything leading up to it will leave humans ill-equipped to handle it."
A moment or three later, Fury spoke up. "A compromise then," he suggested, earning Marcus's attention immediately. For Fury to suggest that… it was a big deal. Either he believed him, or he was playing it safe. Marcus didn't really care which, just thankful it happened at all. "We'll need to forge an identity for you. Including, something believable enough to explain your prolonged presence with S.H.I.E.L.D. Pending some discussions and concessions."
"Anomalous exposure to dimensional energies or fields allowed for obscure temporal viewing of possible future threads," Marcus suggested immediately, glad some of his bullet-points hadn't been rendered completely useless, but his demeanor still somewhat reserved after his reveal. "In short, limited precognition. Leave out the multiple universe stuff completely. The universe is already too big without thinking about others, so keep it simple. Just enough that anyone will think that I'm just another collectable for S.H.I.E.L.D."
"You've put some thought into this," Fury commented.
"I had to make a convincing pitch," Marcus admitted, but still winced. "Not my best work. There's only a handful of people even remotely equipped to handle…," he vaguely gestured to himself and the air around him vaguely, "…all… this. And of those, I believe S.H.I.E.L.D. is the better alternative.
"And as much as I'd love to leave this up to a gentlemen's agreement, that's not how the world works."
Fury blinked in consideration before stating, "I'll have something drafted up. Privately." Marcus nodded at him before Fury continued. "I'm assuming you want to withhold information so what you know stays relevant, timeline-wise."
"Pfft! No. That's the most selfish thing I've ever heard," Marcus snorted. When Fury remained silent, he explained. "If I change enough, what I know will become irrelevant eventually, save maybe for some anchored events, or fixed points. But that's why training is part of my conditions. So when what I know inevitably becomes useless, my contribution can evolve with it, instead of becoming a useless hood ornament.
"Besides, if S.H.I.E.L.D. acts on my information prematurely, you guys risk preventing valuable allies, or rooting out debilitating enemies."
"You afraid we'll jump the gun?" Fury asked, almost amused by that assessment.
Marcus quirked an eyebrow in mild amusement that dared him to tell him otherwise.
Flexing his brows back in admittance, Fury leaned forward again, arms on the table. "That's devious of you," he pointed out, looking something that might have been… approval.
"I prefer the term 'pragmatic'," Marcus countered with a shrug. "Or at least, I hope I'm being 'pragmatic'."
Fury just nodded in acceptance. "So, what else can you tell us? Here, and now, while we're still under Black Curtain. If your intel is solid, we can work out something long-term."
Nodding uneasily, Marcus mimicked Fury's position back at him. "A few things." He looked over at Coulson with a gentle gesture of his chin. "The first, what I told Phil to make sure I had more than just S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention. The fact you both are here makes this easier." If not also making the opening rounds of negotiation that much more difficult. Working with just Coulson would have been easier than talking to Fury, but, here they were. Marcus only had to reveal that, in very vague terms, that there was a mad Titan hellbent on erasing half of all sentient life in the Universe, just to keep his foot in the game.
Coulson stood straighter, prouder. Almost downright giddy. Fury seemed to roll his eye… but it seemed difficult with only one eye to follow. "Have a seat, Coulson."
"Thank you, sir," Coulson finally spoke, stepping forward and pulling up his own seat. Once he was settled, he began. "When asked for information, Mister Kendrick offered something that's… quite incredible if I do say so. Improbable. But incredible."
Coulson's almost giddy response immediately soaked into Marcus via [Empathic Reception], lightening how overwhelmed he had been feeling, washing out some of the pressure and heat off of him. Good-cop; definitely the good-cop. At least for now.
"After all that," Fury directed in boredom. The deadpan on his face was just… chef's kiss.
"Steve Rogers is alive," Coulson stated, holding his breath in his excitement. Four little words. "I mean, Captain America! I mean, Captain Rogers!"
Marcus cracked a smile at oh so precious Agent Coulson. Only for his amusement to be cut short by the flash of him getting stabbed in the back once again.
Yeah. That was on his to-do list too. If enough things lined up or were relatively consistent in the future, he'd probably make a 'Quest' out of it.
[Minimized?]
A little more relief soaked into him at Sys's interjection. He didn't realize how much reassurance the System's presence was, at least, until it was quiet for an extended period of time. 'Yes, please.'
[!New Quest: Crossroad – Save Phillip Coulson!]
.
Still… that meant that something in the future had solidified. Whether it happened on the Helicarrier or somewhere else, it meant Phil Coulson was now in fate's crosshairs.
Again, Fury was sending a side-eye (was that even possible with one eye?) towards their… guest. "It was our understanding that he went down with the Valkyrie, near the end of World War II."
Somewhat revitalized, Marcus decided to expand that discussion. "He did. In sub-arctic waters that quickly froze over. Doctor… what's his name? Erskine? His formula allow– is allowing Rogers to remain suspended in cryogenic stasis. Not sure how it works, save that he's in suspended animation."
Fury mulled on that for a moment. "Do we know where?" The inclusiveness of his question both reassured and made Marcus wearier.
"Not sure, no," Marcus admitted. "Only that the Valkyrie is going to surface between… two to four years from now. I don't have an exact timeline narrowed yet. Unless S.H.I.E.L.D. can use satellites to track or predict ice flows over the last sixty years."
"Interesting," Fury commented. "And if we do find Captain Rogers early?"
Marcus had to hold back from rolling his eyes. "You'd have to worry about finding him first. That's a bridge to cross when you get to it."
With that off the list, Fury pressed onward, "Alright then. Second?"
Nodding with a deep breath, Marcus stated, "Second, you guys will need to keep track of Tony Stark's schedule."
"Mister Stark tends to not adhere to his schedule," Fury stated. Which meant they were already keeping track of Tony's schedule. That simplified things at least.
"Specifically, for anything involving weapons demonstrations," Marcus clarified. "It'll help set up a timeline and give me something more immediate to work with." Given it would be the official start of the MCU for Marcus.
The plan wasn't to change that much of the immediate future. The world still needed Iron Man, even if Marcus ended up bearing the brunt of his favorite hero's disdain for it. If he tried to prevent everyone from suffering, the world as a whole would suffer worse. For the best chance of victory in the long-term, it required Tony to take shrapnel to the chest.
That didn't mean he was God. But his knowledge was a tool, and suffering was a catalyst for growth when properly applied. And if people hated him for how he used it… well, he'd worry about that when it came up. He already felt like shit coming to that conclusion.
"I'll have someone keep tabs then," Fury assured. "Third?"
"The first major setback is also two to four years from now. It should be a little after Captain Rogers is normally secured," Marcus stated. "It's about Project Pegasus."
Fury breathed in… and out, making Marcus nervous. That was something he was gonna have to get used to: having someone unqualified and without authorization, with an entire list of classified knowledge in his head. The alternatives weren't that great. "Go on."
"I don't think you guys are going to stop observing and studying the cube," Marcus pondered aloud. "But… extraplanar interference is going to start it up and kickstart the beginnings of an alien invasion. If things pan out like I think they will, it will be over New York City."
"Aliens?" Coulson asked, looking intrigued, having only dealt with securing occasional wayward tech. "Like… from other planets?"
Marcus nodded. "I'm not sure about the death toll, but it'll require the Avengers Initiative."
That got Fury's attention, more so than alien invaders anyway. "Do we have candidates?"
Marcus couldn't help the small smile on his face. "Spoilers Nicky. But I'll give you some ideas if you need them. Suffice to say, I recommend S.H.I.E.L.D. has something like a… rescue and aide division? If it doesn't already. And insurance maybe? Set aside to cover the damages and help emergency services during and after. Probably not an ideal feature of a spy agency, but… the fewer casualties, the better. And what better way to reveal a secret government agency than with an 'Angel's of Mercy' mission."
Fury looked at Marcus intently. "I'll see what I can do about that. No promises though. Trying to get funding for any division is difficult enough. Much less off the supposed premonitions of a random, Universe-hopping civilian."
[Duh-amn, Nicky boy!]
"Your welcome," Marcus stated, facial features tightening like he'd just been sucker punched. "Fair, but not like I asked to be here either. Just… making the most of it."
Nick Fury was not amused. And Marcus didn't care. Facts or no, that hurt. Physically. On so many levels. Guess he should just be glad they were at least listening.
A moment of uncomfortable silence passed before Coulson evidently got antsy with the tension that was brewing between his boss and their newcomer. "Was there… anything else?"
Marcus inhaled sharply to calm the ache that had built up in his chest.
He hesitated though as they came up to the fourth item.
Noticing his change in demeanor both Fury and Coulson responded likewise.
"Yeah… S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been infiltrated," Marcus stated, closing his eyes to bottle that shit up for… whenever. "As in, is currently infiltrated."
[!A 'Divergence Point' is Taking Place!
Your words and actions here can change the very narrative of both 'S.H.I.E.L.D.' and 'H.Y.D.R.A.', likewise affecting their impacts on the plot. These changes can be near imperceivable, can radically disrupt the original story, or anything in-between. Both Good and Bad, what influence you provide is up to you.]
.
Double whammy! 'Yeah. No pressure.' He took back what he said about Sys being reassuring. He was a bundle of nervousness all over again.
"That's…," Coulson started, blinking and trying to formulate words that wouldn't come. Yeah.
That just seemed par for the course today, but for everything Marcus had revealed, this was not only closer to home, it was more immediate. Stronger responses were expected. Still, he felt sorry for Coulson.
"Do you have a name?" Fury asked. Out with the bad news, and now for the worse news. Yay.
"It's not… one person," Marcus explained nervously. "So it's… more like an infestation."
"Whom?" Fury commanded unwaveringly, demanding he get to the point.
Big reveal aside, Marcus felt like he was trying to swallow an egg whole. "When– When World War II ended… and the foundations for S.H.I.E.L.D. were laid… several people were recruited from the opposing side over to yours. Scientists mostly." Marcus couldn't quite hide his distaste at that. Considering some of those "scientists" were the reason why the world at large knew the human body was made of 70% water, he… was ill-at-ease about some of the governing choices in that regard.
"Operation Paperclip," Fury nodded.
"Some of those people were… formerly H.Y.D.R.A.," he continued, watching the dots began to connect on their faces. "They've been slowly growing, recruiting, and expanding their influence for the past sixty years. Now they're branched into virtually every division of S.H.I.E.L.D., several departments of the government, and have influence and operating cells world-wide. And it's safe to assume that for every mission S.H.I.E.L.D. has had up to date, H.Y.D.R.A. had one competing alongside it."
Coulson didn't even try to hide the shock on his face, and Fury… Fury's face had gone unnervingly blank.
"Hence the Black Curtain," he explained with finality. "No records. No eavesdroppers. No leaks."
It was quiet for a moment, interrupted only by Coulson leaning back in his chair, his eyes glimmering and exhaling shakily, like Marcus had just pulled the rug out from under everything he'd ever believed in. Fury was grinding the edge of his jaw in a controlled… tempered manner that Marcus wondered if he had just struck the match that would set the world on fire.
He wasn't sure if either of them had displayed similar reactions in their respective media when they would have originally found out (Fury having just survived an assassination attempt and being off-screen in Winter Soldier and Coulson… being somewhere in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. post-resurrection), but here he was… witnessing them in all their raw form.
"Assuming this is all true, what makes you so sure, you can trust us with this information?" Fury asked, cocking his head slightly, but pointedly.
Marcus gave him a resolute look. "I may not agree with everything you do, but I know you want to protect people, even if it's overly pragmatic. Ends justify the means as long as the world as a whole remains on the up, and all that. And Coulson… he collects Captain America memorabilia. You're two of a handful of people I know – without a shadow of a doubt – aren't H.Y.D.R.A. And that's one of the reasons I asked for you guys."
Coulson coughed briskly in embarrassment. Considering Marcus had just thrown a guess out there (the guy collected trading cards for Christ's sake!), it was interesting to know that he had been right. He still looked like someone had shaken his world, but Marcus could see his comment had brought him back around, if only for the moment.
Fury didn't look any more relieved. Just more… Fury… if that made sense. "And I'm assuming that's one of those things that leaves Earth… ill-equipped in the future."
"Yeah," Marcus nodded. "And that's also why my remaining info is gonna be tight-lipped. Because you can bet your ass that if you try to blow the lid on this, they're gonna scatter and regroup. Like cockroaches. Or… I suppose… regrow. You know… like Hydra heads are supposed to. That's why I'm aiming for being a consultant. So I can consult when necessary, as necessary."
Fury nodded, more understanding now that they had a bigger picture to operate with. He didn't like it, but when push came to shove, he saw the necessity. Because if that was all true, then any… advanced… interrogation tactics they employed could end with information in the hands of an enemy that had been hiding in their very midst for a very long time.
"Infestation" indeed.
"Do you know who we can trust?" Fury asked. Kendrick had said a 'handful' after all.
"Maria Hill," Marcus stated without hesitating before frowning. "I'm not sure if Sharon Carter is an agent yet, but she's in the clear. Also, Clint Barton. He's clear. His family too." Judging by the stern glare Fury had just given him, maybe mentioning Clint's "non-existent" family into this wasn't the best idea. Whoops. "There are a few others, but I don't know if they've… shown up yet. I'd still like to keep everyone else out of the loop unless necessary though. Too many over paranoid agents is never a good look. And then there's that thing about fewer mouths."
"And counter-operatives?" Fury asked, still focusing on what they could work with. Because Kendrick did make a good point.
"I only know two by name," Marcus explained. "Alexander Pierce, and Senator Sterns. I don't know anyone else, but… I'm operating under the assumption that everyone else is either H.Y.D.R.A. or in the grey."
Now it was Fury's turn to lose the wind in his sails. "Are you certain?"
Marcus gave his best assured and firm affirmation. "Positive." He quickly followed up with, "I don't expect you to take everything I've said at face value. But at the very least, it should help open up investigations and rooting them out. Quietly of course. And I assume that could… take a while. Sifting chafe from wheat and all that. If I could… make a recommendation… I'd wait until after you activate the Avenger's Initiative."
And with it, employ a group of highly-skilled and/or specialized individuals to help with the mess; and if the timeline was adding up like Kendrick suggested, that would include their own Star-Spangled Man. Fury just nodded, almost absently looking to the side, clearly chewing on… well, everything. Marcus had just dumped a fuck-ton on them, and for the most part, they seemed to believe him. In the almost-worst-case, it should have been harder to convince them, but… he couldn't complain. Maybe it was his face?
Or maybe they were giving him reasonable doubt until further notice and pending further proof.
['Divergence Point' has ended.
The consequences of your actions will become more apparent as time goes on.]
.
Fury closed his eye for a moment, seeming to come to a conclusion. "Do you have anything else?"
"Some," Marcus admitted. "But only after H.Y.D.R.A. has been weeded out." He stopped to think for a moment. "It's hard to run a sprint when you have pneumonia. Especially when you're preparing for a marathon. Does– Does that make sense?"
"Sort of?" Coulson muttered, furrowing his brows in thought.
"It'll do," Fury assured, letting out an exhausted sigh, before getting down to an extension of the matter at hand. "Although, I'm curious. What's to stop us from locking you up, now that we have an idea, of what we're up against?"
Marcus paused at that, considering his options. "Honestly? Nothing. I... I don't like gambling, but I went into this knowing I was gambling big." A lot more than he could chew off as he found out, but he had known the worst-case, even if he didn't understand what it meant in practice.
"All matters aside, you're a civilian. Are you certain you want training as a field agent?"
"As opposed to what?" Marcus asked, genuinely curious for a serious alternative. Because he sure didn't see one. "Desk job? Mail room? Retrieving vehicles agents leave behind?"
"A remote bunker with twenty-four seven guard if you keep it up," Fury stated pointedly. "Plumbing optional." Marcus wisely shut his gob. "I'm askin', 'cause if so, you'll be up against hand-picked candidates. Most are recruited, either through exemplary service, exceptional academic prowess in specific fields, or advanced comprehension and analytical skills. Two of which you don't seem to have, and the other, in questionable measure. So I'm asking, once again, are you certain?"
"I'm a fast learner," he stated firmly. There wasn't a choice otherwise. If he could join a boxing circuit, rookie or not, with a couple weeks of training, there was no telling how quickly he could advance with such training. For every 'Skill' he got, he became a little stronger. For every mile run, his 'Stats' improved. And S.H.I.E.L.D. was an opportunity for a lot of 'Skills' and 'Stats'. Still, he sighed, almost tiredly. "Just set whatever workload you think is necessary, and I'll take it from there. I'm used to breaking myself for someone else's expectations. Just as long as I get proper instruction, applicable practice, and plenty of hands-on."
He didn't notice the concerned side-eye Coulson shot Fury.
"I think that can be arranged," Fury agreed coolly, before his words became an oncoming storm. "Just be aware, after the shitshow you started, you, are the one in debt right now, Mister Kendrick. If I begin to get any indication that this is some elaborate hoax, or that you are wasting S.H.I.E.L.D. resources, the consequences, will be severe. When, and only when, I confirm the validity of the information you've shared, will I consider us even-keeled. Until then, you best be making sure I don't regret my decision, even for a moment. Am I understood?"
"Loud and clear… sir," Marcus agreed, fighting to keep his body from rattling in his chair. It was obviously failing, if the look Fury was giving him was anything to go by. "Um…."
Fury quirked his brow at him. "Speak up."
"Is there any chance I can get instructors for Russian and Hungarian?" Marcus asked, trying not to ask for too much, but… again, necessities. "German… maybe Icelandic and Mandarin while I'm thinking about it?"
"Planning on being busy?" Fury asked.
"Planning on being useful," Marcus corrected, before quickly tacking on, "sir."
Coulson's lips pinched together, trying to keep from smiling.
"Let's start with one before you go and try to pile more on," Fury stated. "You already have plenty to catch up on."
"Cool. Cool." Marcus eventually trailed off, not sure what else needed to be said. A lot needed done, yes. But said? He couldn't think of anything else off the top of his head.
"Good. Coulson." Coulson stood up from his seat at that, quietly pushing in his chair before straightening his suit jacket. "Set up Mister Kendrick in temporary accommodations. I'll contact Director Whedon about getting him referred to Operations. In the meantime, we'll see about getting our… visitor… some identification and a draft of his contract."
"Yessir," Coulson answered, turning to Marcus.
Hesitating for a moment, Marcus finally stood up from his seat to follow, walking through the door first as Coulson gestured.
Before they could leave though, Marcus turned back around. "Oh! One last thing!"
Fury and Coulson both perked up as Marcus sported a completely serious look on his face. "If you guys happen to find any sentient alien sludge with parasitic tendencies… I call dibs." He flashed them a grin born more of relief than humor, before continuing on his way.
Coulson shot Fury a perplexed look, but quickly followed after him.
Fury waited a moment in the Black Curtained room, breathing firmly and deeply for a moment or two in the silence, save for the gentle hiss of the gas lantern. Especially after a meeting like that.
"Well, shit."
…
"That was intense," Marcus commented as they approached the exit to the room at large. He felt a stress cramp right under his shoulder blade beginning to tighten; right in that spot that he couldn't quite reach. It was always annoying. Still, he felt oddly light, like he'd just taken a load off his shoulders, but he couldn't relax yet. There was still so much to do, and even then, he couldn't relax. There was still H.Y.D.R.A. about. He might actually have to consider spending more 'Skill Points' to keep up.
"You get used to it," Phil assured, giving him a small smile.
"Do you really?" Marcus returned, unconvinced.
"Not really, no."
Marcus snorted at Phil's response before giving him a worried glance. "How are you feeling?" At Coulson's questioning glance, he clarified, "I'm pretty sure I just ruined any security you feel at work, and I can't imagine that feels particularly… great."
Coulson seemed to think for a moment, a pensive look on his face before turning back to Marcus. "I'll manage." Understandable. They didn't really have any trust between them. Yet.
Neither of them said anymore as he opened up the door, both of them stepping back out into the hall.
[!Congratulations! You completed the Quest: Negotiations – Joining S.H.I.E.L.D.!]
While we were kinda expecting it to just be Coulson, you ended up negotiating with Mister Cyclops himself. You clearly made an impression, especially with the leeway he's given you. You traded all the starting cards you held, but you did technically get all of your conditions met, so… kudos.
Rewards:
- Obtain New Title 'Trainee of S.H.I.E.L.D. (RARE)'
- Obtain Occupation 'Asset of S.H.I.E.L.D.' (locked)
- Obtain Influence 'S.H.I.E.L.D. Clearance Level – 1' (locked)
- Official Identification
- 12500 EXP
- 5 Skill Points
- 4 Evolution Points
{Director} Bonus:
- Additional Influence in 'S.H.I.E.L.D.'
- Obtained New Occupation 'S.H.I.E.L.D. Operations Trainee'
- Remove Reward - 'Asset of S.H.I.E.L.D.'
- Obtained New Occupation 'Consultant of S.H.I.E.L.D.' (locked)
- 6006 EXP (+1501 EXP)
- 5 Skill Points
- 32 Evolution Points
- Locked rewards pending the User's demonstration of improvement.
.
[!You Gained a Level!]
[!You Gained a Level!]
.
[You have collected over 50 Evolution Points. Pending Evolutions...
.../UNAPPLICABLE/...
... MORE DATA REQUIRED!]
[Catalyst required for pending Evolutions.]
[More EVO Points may be needed for some Evolutions.]
.
'Okay… wow.' Not his first time catching multiple levels at once, but he certainly wasn't expecting it now. Then again, getting into S.H.I.E.L.D. was bound to be hard, and he kept ground against Fury. And Fury was... a really high-level. Marcus was approximating in the 50's? Maybe 60's. He wasn't sure how MMORPG rules were cast, but he'd take it. So far, not a great start; and he was in deep with Fury, so he'd have to make it up to him, if only in work ethic and tenacity. Marcus had those going for him at least. That and the massive boost to blanket 'Stats' and... well, whatever 'EVO Points' were used for.
'And apparently I need a Thunder Stone to evolve into my next form,' he commented sarcastically. He wasn't even sure where to begin with that one. And he hadn't really thought to check it either, since it hadn't been immediately impactful. Now though? It would have to wait for a second.
"So," May asked as they both stepped out, the tension that had rippled between the two guarding agents not lost on Marcus; at least until they had both seen Coulson. And just like that, she was reaching into her pockets to remove Coulson's affects. "How'd it go?"
"How deep a hole are we digging?" Blake asked, reciprocating the glare Marcus was sending him. "I know a guy in North Dakota who'd love the company."
"Hardly." Coulson paused a moment, silently observing his current team for a moment before stating. "I'd like you to meet our newest recruit, Marcus Kendrick," he introduced.
"Huh. Who'd have thought," May hummed, slapping Marcus across the back.
Marcus's 'Infliction' riddled body practically screamed from the impact.
[!'Impact Diffusion' skill has gained a level!]
[!'Pain Mitigation' skill has gained a level!]
"Ow," he muttered, his eye twitching.
Sighing, Blake turning to Coulson. "So where's he going? Communications?"
Somehow, Coulson's face combined a deadpan with that same easy smile he always had. "Operations, actually." With an inhale through his teeth, he continued on. "You two are officially dismissed. Don't forget to turn your reports in. I'll be escort Mister Kendrick to his temporary accommodations."
Blake nodded, already breaking off to go do his mandatory 'End of Mission' reports.
May however, continued to tag along. "So, they're sending you to S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of Operations, huh?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of… what now?" Marcus asked. "There's an academy?"
Coulson turned back, giving Marcus a confused eye.
Marcus sent one back, giving a wide-eyed and confused shrug. How the Hell was he supposed to know that was a thing? He figured he'd end up in a boot camp, military style; like Steve Rogers did, or… something. Sure, he didn't know a lot about the extended MCU, but... an academy? Really? He felt a combination of interest and trepidation all-in-one at that.
"Yes," Coulson finally answered, turning to Marcus. "May was trained in Operations."
"Yep. Largest percentage of washouts of the Academies," May stated, looking smug. "Coulson was from Communications."
Marcus listened intently. "Explains why…." He turned back to look at where Blake turned away. "… Coulson seemed… pleased… with Mister Gruff's comment."
"Normally, that's where you'd be sent," Coulson stated. "Deals mostly with directing personnel and… data analysis."
'Gotcha.' He was picking up what he was putting down. Made sense. If they were dealing with his weird foreknowledge shtick, then data analysis would be ideal… at least in the immediate future. But assuming that stuff would become less useful eventually… yeah, Operations it was. But….
"What's Operations deal with?" he asked.
"It's where they train specialists and field agents," May answered. "The fact you're going in must mean you impressed Coulson."
'Or Fury. Unless he's trying to get me to crack,' he considered. As it was, this was his next step, and he wasn't going to complain about it. This is what needed to happen. He could do this.
He might have options when it came to how he decided to advance in this world. But in the long-run, he really didn't have a choice.
Director's Office – a few hours later
Nick Fury had spent the better portions of his time since his most recent Black Curtain Interrogation in thought. Contemplating. Measuring each word spoken and exchanged. All things considered, he was glad he'd trusted Coulson's decision to humor their captive. But without the benefit of recordings, it was that much more difficult to obtain an outside perspective, much less remain objective.
Because if Kendrick was telling the truth, then it was going to be one wrecking ball after the other. And if Nick was honest, he saw very little that concerned him more than the sheer sincerity on the face of their most recent resident; and that opened it's own can of worms. He didn't see S.H.I.E.L.D. sticking the landing if they had come across this information a few years down the line; H.Y.D.R.A. was too entrenched. Even now, with time to act, he couldn't be sure. But now, surprise was on his side.
Still, even with so much seemingly stacked against them, this was an opportunity to do as much good as possible, and get a foot up on even the perceived devastation that would come. And perhaps, remove a number of obstacles in the process.
Activating the 'Avengers Initiative' for an alien invasion aside, Mister Kendrick had the beginnings of a plan. The main difference being the 'Search, Rescue, and Aide' division he'd proposed; one of the main suggestions that had garnered some of Fury's respect. Protecting the people came first; even if that meant protecting the idiots from themselves.
Like 'Infiltration' missions, an 'SRA' division was long, grueling, and could play havoc the mental fortitude of any agent given enough time and setbacks. The difference being that 'Infiltration' specialists had fewer points of contact to keep them grounded, especially for deep-cover; while 'SRA' would quickly bring its own issues if the mission started leaning more towards 'recovery', with not enough towards 'rescue'.
September 11th had demonstrated that, particularly on the emergency responders. And if Kendrick was right, New York was about to be hit with another one for the ages.
Knock, knock, knock.
He peered up as his Deputy Director, Maria Hill, eased into the room, file in hand. And for some reason, Nick could feel a sliver of relief settle in his body; some part of him wanting to trust in Kendrick's words, and another part of him naturally suspicious because of them. But it was that same feeling he had felt when Kendrick had confirmed that Coulson was also above reproach. He had to hold back a little snort at that. At the very least, it seemed his Eye and Hand was intact.
"Evening, Director," she stated in a curt tone, gently settling the file on his otherwise empty desk, flipped it open, and spun it around to face him. "Here are those transcripts you wanted me to file. We… haven't found so much as a blip of this guy past a few months ago, and he's entered something of the public stage. So I'm having the computer techs build his identity with that in mind. They'll need access though, to hash the details."
"Limited access," he instructed. "Have one of them write up the questions they need answered and send them to Coulson. I'll have him and Kendrick fill it out."
Hill nodded. "I've also drafted up a Letter of Recommendation for Director Whedon for you to peruse over. The rest will be filled out once we have everything all in place."
"Good," he commented simply, taking her advice with the perusing. It was simple, direct to the point, and professional. "Excellent." He waited for her to give him more, and she didn't disappoint.
"I also had the lab techs set up a procedural scan and observation," she stated, knowing what the broader details were about, but still keeping her face impassive. "They will need physical access to Mister Kendrick."
Fury nodded. "Keep Coulson on hand. In fact, tell Coulson I want him running escort until further notice."
"Coulson on babysitting duty?" she asked, breaking the professional atmosphere for a moment.
Fury however, kept that same directorate mask on his face. The kind that showed displeasure at questioned orders. Still, she was skeptical, and had questioned; good traits for someone in her position to have, especially in the unlikely case he had to take a... "leave of absence". Especially now, with a looming shadow war at their doorstep, of all times. Unfortunately, questions led to revelations, and they couldn't afford too many of those. Not yet anyway. They had a very limited view of their opponents hand, which meant they had the opportunity to stack the deck in their favor, however brief. "Until we know more and can confirm, I want you operating under the assumption, that Mister Kendrick is a key informant."
She paused for a moment as she digested his words before nodding. "Coulson it is then."
"Good. Once you have a complete file, I want the original on my desk, and the remaining copy under Level 9 redaction. No digital copies," he ordered, pushing the file back her way.
If Maria Hill wasn't surprised, she was doing a bad job of showing it. "Y-Yessir." She quietly gathered up the file before heading for the door. Again, Fury carefully kept the acknowledgement off his face when she stopped just short of leaving. "I… have a question, sir."
He waited patiently.
"Is the information Marcus Kendrick is providing really that important?" she inquired.
"Hmm," Fury hummed for a moment as he stood up, back facing her as he stood at ease facing the window, hands behind his back. He took a deep breath, the action reflecting in his whole posture as he glanced at the city of New York in his view. He'd had his pick of offices, and despite the sniping-risk, the business below reminded him that their were a lot people counting on them.
Even more-so now.
"If what Mister Kendrick has told me is true, then the information he provides – both now, and down the road – may very well become the cornerstone of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s future."
Hill's nodded to the back of Fury's head. While she didn't have the picture Fury did, she had faith in his decision. "Yes, sir." Just a moment more, and she was gone.
Humming again, Fury turned back around, pressing a button near the singular office lamp. On prompt, the room autonomously began working. The windows tinted, blocking off what remained of the evening sunlight, the overhead lights dimmed, his inner office windows dropping blinds, and the wall opened up to reveal several built-in screens.
Tapping gently at a keyboard that flipped from underneath his desk, he input whatever prompt it required, immediately bringing the screens to life, emblazoned with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. A few more taps, and a video call began to chime gently; and while he waited, Nick paced lightly.
He knew it was answered by the shift in the lighting.
"Nick! What a surprise!" a light-hearted voice picked up. "Thought it would take pulling teeth to get you to call."
"Pierce," Nick greeted with a gentle nod, opting to stand as a sentinel.
On the screen was the Secretary of the World Security Council. Alexander Pierce was at his own desk, clearly in the middle of paperwork of his own.
"So what's the occasion? Don't suppose you're just calling to catch up with old friends, are you?" Pierce asked, quietly setting aside his current form.
"Unfortunately, no," Fury responded, as stone-faced as always.
"Shame. Well, what can I do for you?"
"I'm planning to open up a new division of S.H.I.E.L.D., and I'm calling to request additional funding," Fury answered. "Normally, I'd just run it by the Financial Department, but this is… sensitive."
Pierce looked intrigued, but it was tempered by the request itself. "You know how… stingy… the upper echelons can be," he stated, not even bothering to hide the mild tone of bitterness it invoked. "We're realists, Nick, you and I. We know how important the work is out there. But the Council is already complaining about the funding you do have. Unless we have an active threat of some sort, they're not going to budge."
He sighed over the feed before asking. "Just for the record, what kind of division are you wanting to implement?"
"Search, Rescue, and Aide," Fury stated, as though it was obvious. He didn't give pause though. "As of this evening, S.H.I.E.L.D. has come into possession of a rather unique individual."
"Unique?" Pierce asked, intrigued even though there were other questions brewing. "Unique how? And what does this have to do with an… SRA division?"
Walking back over to his desk, Nick pulled up a few files on some of the screens, and quickly sent them. The ding on the other end a moment later was confirmation that Pierce had received them. "I've sent you the collective files we've obtained for this case, if, you need some pull on your end." As Pierce began pulling up the files, he continued. "This individual, one Marcus Kendrick, entered our radar earlier today after sending a phone call to the CIA, and throwing a bunch of trigger words, that correlated with several reserves of classified intel on our end.
"Apparently, this was just to get our attention."
"Christ," Pierce huffed as he read and listened, sounding stressed by the news. "This has a future audit written all over it."
Fury couldn't argue with that. He wasn't too happy with it himself, effective though it had been. "We have reason to believe that Kendrick has either gained access to S.H.I.E.L.D. files, or, that he was given unique insight."
"Unique? Like an Enhanced?" Pierce inquired, only briefly looking up toward the screen. "Those are rare. He a naturally occurring one, or was he cooked up?"
"From what we can tell, he's more... acquired. And from what Kendrick has explained, he was potentially exposed to an anomalous source of energy that seems to have given him a single, brief window into several events. Past, present, and future. We'll be having him undergo some tests to ensure it's, legitimate."
Shaking his head as though he'd heard wrong, Pierce refocused on Nick again. "Are you implying that this… Enhanced… not only has possession of several classified S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets… but also possesses precognitive abilities?"
"Limited precognitive abilities," Fury stated firmly, straight from the script. "As a token of faith, he's given us actionable intelligence, with more to come provided we… accommodate, some of his requests. He even signed up for his own recruitment. Given the other option was to remove him for the trouble, I thought we might humor him."
"Hmm. Nothing too drastic I hope. What kind of intel?"
"Primarily, that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been infiltrated," he stated, keeping his face passive as he observed.
"Infiltrated? By whom?" Pierce demanded, almost pouncing on that tidbit.
"Kendrick was unable to extrapolate, but he believes a singular, or small handful, of individuals have infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. However, his concern was focused more towards our… more odd findings over the years."
"Alien tech? He thinks someone is attempting to smuggle some pieces out?" Pierce asked, somewhat calmer.
"And possibly for replication," Fury answered. "We've only reverse-engineered maybe fifteen percent of what we've collected over the decades, and the rest is largely unknown or currently beyond our capabilities. It's a courtesy, but I thought I should inform you that I will be conducting a thorough internal investigation. It may delay several projects unfortunately."
"But it beats the alternative. An audit is the least of the worries then," Pierce agreed. "That's all well and good. But what did he say that required a new branch of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"He mentioned two critical events, though I believe there to be more," Fury informed. "Both are set within the next ten years. Both could result in massive loss of life, and the last could threaten life on Earth as we know it. If it's really as big as he claims, as S.H.I.E.L.D. is, we don't have the resources, or the manpower to prevent them, much less deal with the aftermath. And I'd rather not be caught on my left side. Until I can confirm the validity of his predictions, I've opted to keep him close and start steadily improving our chances."
"Hence the 'SRA'," Pierce confirmed, leaning back in his chair and looking up, gently swiveling back and forth in thought. His finger tapped gently on his chair's armrest. "Alright. I'll see what I can do. I'll also push for an additional 3% overall funding to distribute. The Council might haggle for less, but we might be able to spin for more."
Fury blinked, though it was really hard to tell. "I like to think, every little bit helps."
"It's just a temporary measure, Nick," Pierce placated, clearly thinking broader than Fury was. Nick wasn't one for finance after all, but they both understood necessary action. "If this forecast you received is wrong, it will be rescinded with little fuss."
"And if he's right?" Fury asked, pushing towards the necessary.
"Then his predictions could put us in a position to get ahead of the curve," Pierce explained, looking thoughtful. Almost insistent. "Increase in manpower. More quality materials faster. Better equipment and gear. Even some of the more reclusive projects you conduct would see the sun." He blinked when he realized he'd been going on a tirade. "Point is, if your new weather machine continuously proves accurate about threats, funding will be the least of your issues. Managing it? Now that's a different story."
"Worst-case, I'd have agents hold a bake sale," Fury quipped. But his face didn't say whether or not he was kidding, or serious.
"Ha! You let me worry about this end of things, Nick," Pierce assured. "Although, if things start panning out, I'd love to meet your new recruit in person. Not every day we get Enhanced folks, and it'd be interesting to see how the… abilities affect the individual."
"I'll keep that in mind," Fury stated noncommittedly. Deep down, Fury was curious to see how Kendrick would react if he did follow through; that would probably tell him more about Kendrick's actual thoughts and intentions than anything. "Fair warning though, he's skittish. Even a little, paranoid."
"I can see why you wanna keep him around then," Pierce prodded humorously. "You take care, Nick."
"And you," he responded, just before the screen faded back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. eagle.
He frowned, sitting back on the edge of his desk for a moment. With Kendrick's warning whispering in the back of his head, there were small, almost inconsequential things, that prodded at him uneasily. Pierce had always been more personable than Nick ever had, and while Fury didn't have any friends, Pierce was as close as most people got.
But some of his wording. Some of his reactions. And the easy and personable way he had insisted on meeting Kendrick.
"Fuck," he sighed. While he wasn't completely convinced, his guard was up, and his paranoia primed.
Luckily, information wasn't the only use that Kendrick provided. Because if it got around that he had special insights, it was bound to ruffle some feathers. Someone would either want to know what he knew, or would want to remove him completely before he spilled something truly damning. And Fury had a rather vested interest in those kinds of people.
And now that the bait was set, Fury wanted to see what he would catch.
[!Congratulations! You completed the Quest: Paths of Power – The Old Fashion Way: The Beginner!]
The User has made it to level 15!
Rewards:
- 3200 EXP (+800 EXP)
- $1920 (+$480)
- 5 Stat Points
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[!New Quest: Paths of Power – The Old Fashion Way: The Apprentice!]
Sometimes, the only way to gain power is by doing what has been done before: working hard, exercising, and reaching your limit by your own hands. Whether that's by intense training, mob grinding, study, or self-reflection. Straight forward. No short-cuts.
This is the end goal for "The Old Fashion Way" questline.
After that, no System-sponsored goals, so start setting them yourself. Which... doesn't seem to be an issue.
Requirements:
- Reach lvl 20
Reward:
- 7000 EXP
- $4200
- 5 Stat Points
Failure: Quest can be 'Quit' at any time. (If you're thinking about quitting now, when you're so close, then we need to talk.).
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Name: Marcus Ezekiel Kendrick
Race: Human (standard)
Occupation: Trainee of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Level: 15 (10201/12000)
Title: Masochistic Gamer (+5 STR, VIT, DEX; +25% Cash and EXP)
HP: 1050
– HP regen: 8% (84 HP/hour) (1.26 HP/minute)
– Inflicted HP regen (-60%): 3.2% (33.6 HP/hour)
MP: 1010 (170)
– MP regen: 8.2% (82.82 MP/minute) (1.24 MP/second)
– Inflicted MP regen (-60%): 3.28% (33.12 MP/second)
– Magic/Mental resist: 6.2%
SP: 1100 (170)
– SP regen: 10% (110 SP/minute) (1.66 SP/second)
– Inflicted SP regen (-60%): 4% (44 SP/minute)
STR: 30 (-9) (+5) = 26
VIT: 25 (+5) = 30
DEX: 35 (-11) (+5) = 29
INT: 26 (+0) = 26
WIS: 31 (+0) = 31
LUC: 20 (+0) = 20
SKL: 111 | EVO: 68
Currency: $51014.48
– Trainee of S.H.I.E.L.D. (pending…)
Hunger: 26/300
– Standing Drain: 4/hour (96/day)
Thirst: 168/300
– Standing Drain: 6/hour (144/day)
.
.
Passive Skills:
[Vehicle Mastery, novice lvl 8]
[Mechanics, basic lvl 5]
[Firearm Mastery, novice lvl 4]
[Fishing Mastery, novice lvl 11]
[Information Processing lvl 13]
[Cartography lvl 21]
[Empathic Reception lvl 17]
[Inconspicuous lvl 11]
[Danger Sense lvl 9]
[Critical Hit lvl 4]
[Unarmed Mastery lvl 11]
[Pugilism Style lvl 17]
[Knife Wielding lvl 3]
[Blade Guard lvl 8]
[Fire Retardant lvl 5]
[Pain Mitigation lvl 8 = 9]
[Impact Diffusion lvl 11 = 12]
[Qi Rooting lvl 2]
[Mana Sensitivity lvl 2]
[Eye of the Storm/Tranquility of Water lvl 1]
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Active Skills:
[Blade Sharpening lvl 12]
[The Zone lvl 4]
[Adrenaline Rush lvl 3]
[Power Strike lvl 10]
[Charge Attack lvl 6]
[Block Guard lvl 6]
[Counter Strike lvl 4]
[Oxygen Circulation Breathing Technique lvl 1]
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Passive & Active Skills:
[Pushing Limits lvl Max]
[Climbing lvl 6]
[Sprint lvl 18]
[Inspect lvl 21]
[Observe lvl 22]
[Harmonic Meditation lvl 12]
Author's Note: Don't forget to READ and REVIEW!
Let me know what you guys think. Keep it constructive. And any help balancing or reinventing certain skills would be most help.
Don't forget about that 'Test Poll' I'm working with. It'll be located at the top of my bio page. And if it works, great. If not... well shoot. Back to square one.
Until next time.