Bronze Mettle (MCU/DC SI)

[Xavier Bronze]

As soon as I wake up in the same cell I crawl over to Ross and check on him. He wasn't shot. What's wrong with him?

His heartbeat is massively erratic.

I yell, "You have to bring me water!"

A woman walks in, "Is that-"

He's dying, "WATER NOW!"

She throws me a flask of clean water, and I immediately tear open his shirt and get to work.

I know she's watching. I don't care. It's an annoyance that the Ten Rings knows my powerset now, but it was bound to happen eventually.

The last of the flask absorbs into his chest, but he's still not normalizing.

"I need more." I look back at her, "If this man dies, so do you. If you let me save him, then when my friends rescue me, I'll try and convince them to spare you."

"Who is he to you?"

"A piece of shit who gets tons of people killed for very little reason on a regular basis. Get me more water."

She takes the flasks from both of the guards and throws them at me. She's obviously only complying so she can observe my healing powers at work. But that's fine. It's not like she can actually reverse-engineer anything from it.

"He's not breathing." I can do this. CPR was an early lesson. Lean him back, clear his airway. Start compressions. Count out thirty, then mouth to mouth. Again. "Come on, General." Again.

He's breathing. His heartbeat is still too fast though. I open another flask and pour as much Chi as I can into it. I only have one more.

The last one does it. He's normalizing. He's okay.

I relax back against the wall, "And now some to drink, please." I catch the Gatorade she probably came here to give me.

This time we're shackled at both hands, with shorter chains, to a giant empty water heater. It's not hooked up to anything, so I can't turn it into a bomb or anything fun. And of course it's not made of stone, so I'm not breaking free on my own anytime soon. I'm also wearing a metal collar. I'm assuming it has some kind of proximity sensor that shocks me or blows my head off if I get out again.

I sigh, and settle in. My only hope now is that SHIELD has some idea of where I am.

The woman is still here, watching. Might as well get to know my captors, "What do you actually know about the Mandarin?"

She laughs, "The Master is very secretive."

"Do you know how his rings work?"

She frowns, confused, "His rings?"

I nod, "Yes, the actual, physical Ten Rings that the organization gets its name from. Do you know where they come from? What they are? Or even what they can do?"

She just looks confused.

"You do know that he has magic rings, don't you?"

She laughs, "Magic? Is that what SHIELD believes?" She walks out, and I continue to hear her laughter filling the corridor.

 

[Xavier Bronze]

Ross wakes up. He rolls over and looks at me, "I have to thank you for saving my life again, don't I."

I shrug, "You could not. I didn't do it for the gratitude. Actually, I'm not sure why I did it."

He laughs, "You really don't like me. What did I do to you?"

"Nothing. Call it a sympathetic hatred on the behalf of someone like me." He questions with his eyes, "The Hulk."

"Like you? I don't see it. You've saved me, twice. Banner never saved anything except himself."

I shake my head, "Putting aside that you just made my single all-time least favorite assumption, what about Harlem?"

"We used Banner in Harlem. We put him in a position where his own survival depended on doing something we needed done."

"No. He could've just left. Creatures above a certain weight class don't automatically have an irresistible urge to fight one another. They still fight for a reason."

"Same reason as the Abomination, he enjoys it!"

I laugh, "He's been loose for years. Up until earlier this year he was a myth. That doesn't happen because he's attacking everything in sight. That happens because he's hiding. From you."

"Banner doesn't hide. He runs, like a co-"

My fist clenches, "Not. Banner."

He tilts his head at me, "What?"

I glare, "I'm not talking about Banner. I'm talking about the Hulk. How can you be so blind as to think that they could possibly be the same person?"

"Because they are! He transforms when he gets mad!"

"No. He doesn't transform. They switch. The body transforms."

"What difference does it make?"

I throw my hands up, "Oh my god! You are exactly the kind of person I avoided in my old life. You're so narrow-minded that anything that doesn't fit inside your little self-constructed boxes of existence can't possibly be real. So you hunt it down and box it up and poke it until it shows something you can latch onto as a category to stuff it in. Monsters! How could it be anything else! It's not human! What's human? Humans are normal! What's normal? Who the fuck knows!"

He's just staring at me.

I sigh, "Let me put this in simple terms. You come into this world in a scary lab filled with crazy equipment. Everything is small, and fragile. Accidents happen, right? Except from your first day of existence everyone you meet shrieks in terror simply because of how tall you are and how strange your skin color is. And then come the guns, and the bombs, and the tanks. And every time you stop someone from trying to hurt you, it's somehow your fault."

I take a breath.

"The Hulk is your mess. Not his. He didn't ask to get made. He needed your protection. And you attacked him. And you hated him. And you made Banner hate him! And that made him hate himself. And he doesn't even know why, or what he did. Because violence is the only language he knows, and he's constantly punished for it…That's what you did."

Ross looks me in the eye, "The Hulk has killed people."

I look right back, "You've killed more."

He doesn't look like he gets it. I need to explain more.

"Despite how much smaller and weaker and squishier you are, you've still managed to kill more. So either he's not a monster… Or you're an even worse one."

He shakes his head, "That was war. I fought to protect my country, and my daughter."

"You declared war on the Hulk a long time ago, so what exactly is the difference? You fight to protect the things you care about. The Hulk is doing the same thing."

"How can you sympathize with it?"

"Because I used to be just like him. Trapped in someone else's body. Treated like a monster whenever I took the chance to show myself for what I was. Sympathy isn't hard, if you're willing to give up your monsters to do it. This world has monsters enough without us turning on each other."

I think the only reason he's still listening is because I saved his life. But he is listening.

I don't know why I'm trying with this guy, but maybe an olive branch is called for, "I've seen your file. You're a good General. Maybe the best of our time. You almost brought down the Hulk, several times, using conventional military fare. That's damned impressive. If you were actually fighting something malevolent?" Point at our guards, "Like these guys? We might have stopped them already."

He's finally looking conflicted, "Maybe I could have made a difference somewhere else. But that's not my job. I'm not a hero. I'm a soldier. I saw a threat to my nation, and I took action."

"Which time?"

He looks at me, "Excuse me?"

"You were one of the people who saw Superman as a threat, right? And that made you push to fund Super Soldiers, and that made the Hulk. And then you saw the Hulk as a threat, so you made Blonsky."

He sinks back against the wall, "You're saying I spent so much time looking for monsters that I finally found one."

That sounds like a breakthrough to me.

I try to reassure him a little, "There are true monsters in this world. I know a guy who can introduce you, once we get out of this."

"How can you be sure we will?"

I sigh, "Because we didn't die in the breakout, and that's what would've done it if we were going to here." He looks unconvinced, "Also, I'm friends with a god."

 

[Xavier Bronze]

When I wake up to the sound of explosions, I smile.

To their credit, our guards aren't being distracted by the commotion. Ross is already up.

That's the sound of thunder. In the desert. Phil's here.

The woman from earlier hurries in with... fourteen guards and unlocks my shackles.

I can't win this. I'm too weak. They've taken too much of my blood in the however long it is that I've been here. Even if I were at full strength, they're all armed to kill.

They circle me and one of them prods me in the direction of the hallway with their gun. I don't struggle. I look back at Ross, who they're not bringing along.

They lead me down corridor after corridor, until finally we reach a set of stairs that releases us into the same castle structure I saw during my escape attempt. No. Not the same. This is the part of the complex I saw off that ledge before I got knocked out. The hallways must have been sloped to bring us this far down.

I notice we're staying under cover from the sky. Presumably they don't want Phil to see where they're transporting me. They must be pretty desperate to even take this chance.

And then War Machine lands directly in front of us.

All the soldiers guarding me run away, and I walk forward to greet Rhodes. I smile, "Colonel. Boy is it good to see you."

He grabs my metal collar from both sides and tears it in half, "Where's the General?"

I'm about to answer, and then I see something pretty amazing behind him, and point, "Right there."

General Ross runs over to us, holding a stolen enemy firearm, "Colonel. Who else did you bring?"

I see a lightning strike somewhere else in the complex.

Rhodes answers, "The Thunderer, Hawkeye, and a bomber-class Quinjet."

I ask, "Do you have an extra comms earpiece?"

His helmet turns to me, "No, you have to sit this one out. You don't look like you're in fighting condition anyway. Just let us handle this one."

I sigh, "You're right." And then I straighten up and look him in the eye-slit, "But I can at least take care of myself. Go get 'em."

He tilts his head in a way that tells me he's on comms, and then takes off.

Ross frowns at me, "You don't think we need the extra protection?"

I look at the gun in his hands, "I don't think you need the extra protection. How did you get out?"

"Thirty years of active service. This isn't my first time escaping capture."

We stand for a moment. A building explodes a hundred meters away.

The Quinjet swoops down and opens its ramp before it even touches the ground. Mike and Ike are out running, and the jet is back in the air only seconds later.

Mike hands me a pistol, "We have a signal on your comms, if you want to retrieve your uniform."

I nod, "Okay." Then I realize, "Wait, you can use those as tracking devices?"

He nods, "Are you really complaining about that right now? Let's go!"

"Right. Sorry."

A few minutes later Ross is beating the padlock off a cabinet with the butt of his rifle, and I see my Avatar uniform neatly folded within. That was nice of them. I grab it and tuck it under the arm that isn't holding a gun. And then we're headed back outside.

I ask my rescuers, "What took you guys so long? How long has it been, anyway?"

Ike answers, "It's the twelfth. We couldn't get a lock on your position until we got close enough. They had a low-level jamming field up, and we weren't even sure you were here until a few hours ago when Korea gave us spy satellite footage of your first breakout attempt."

Mike adds, "Nice work, by the way."

I grin, "Thanks. Too bad it didn't work."

Mike argues, "Well it led us right to you. Honestly, we weren't sure you were still alive until then. What did they do to you?"

I shake my head, "They took a lot of my blood. That's it. Why would they want my blood?"

As we climb into the jet and take off for safety, I can't help but think that there's something wrong about all of this. So many things don't add up or make sense. How did they even find me? Why didn't they kill me? And why did they take my blood?

 

[Xavier Bronze]

I'm staying overnight in the medbay. Partially for observation, but also so that an IV can catch me up on body fluids.

And while it does that, I'm left to catch up on television. Too bad I haven't watched anything since I moved Earths.

Some medical drama plays in the background as I talk with Jane on the phone, "Yes, I'm fine. I have healing powers now, remember?"

She's cute when she's worried, "I know, but you said you were in the medbay!"

"Just for tonight so I can be hooked up to an IV. I didn't get to eat a lot while I was out. Malnutrition sucks."

It's a lie. But 'I lost a lot of blood while I was a prisoner of the Ten Rings' sounds a lot worse than I want her to be thinking about. What I told her was that I was undercover in Ghazni Province for recon.

And then the TV goes crazy. It randomly switches between sine tones, white noise, and recordings of gunfire and explosions. And when I look at the screen, I see the Ten Rings logo emblazoned in red.

I hear Jane react in horror to the same broadcast on the other end of the line, "Oh god, not again."

And then it all makes sense.

I see the actor posing as the Mandarin come onscreen, "Some people call me a terrorist. I consider myself a teacher."

I call you a fraud. I've seen how this movie ends. You can't want me dead because you don't have access to the spirit world.

"America. Ready for another lesson?"

You don't have access to the spirit world because you don't have any Makluan Rings. Because you're not real.

It makes sense that they didn't kill me, because only the real Mandarin wants me dead. I wasn't captured by the Ten Rings at all. I was captured by Aldrich Killian. I remember his voice now. He was the one who grabbed me from behind at the end of my breakout attempt. That's why he was so strong.

I tune out the television and get on comms, "I need to talk to Coulson, now."

"Agent Coulson is attending to-"

"I'm looking right at what he's attending to, and what I have to say is extremely relevant. Patch me in."

A second later Phil talks to me, "This better be important, Xavier."

"The man on TV right now isn't the Mandarin. He's an actor hired by Aldrich Killian. One of my early reports said AIM was performing illegal human experimentation using something called Extremis."

"I remember. We weren't able to prove anything. The information you gave was too vague to do more than a general investigation."

"I know. I didn't remember that movie very well at the time. But I do now, because this broadcast was in that same fucking movie."

Phil asks, "Why would Aldrich Killian hire an actor to play the Mandarin in a series of fake broadcasts? What does he have to gain?"

I shake my head, "It's more than that. AIM has been imitating the Ten Rings offscreen too. I told you about Extremis. A similar formula was ultimately stabilized by the blood of a pyrokinetic on the SHIELD index."

He gets it, "That's why they took your blood."

"Which means I wasn't abducted by the Ten Rings. I was abducted by Aldrich Killian, because he thought I could help him perfect his toy soldiers. And he was there. Phil, he was there. I heard his voice, I just didn't recognize it until now. That spy satellite footage might be able to prove it if it's high resolution enough. He was the one who knocked me unconscious at the end of my breakout."

"If it were that easy we would have detected it earlier. Where did he grab you?"

"The neck." I realize what he's thinking, "Fingerprints."

Jane talks and oh my god I'm still holding the phone to my comms ear, "Wait, you were abducted? They took your blood? I thought it was recon? Xavier?"

"Oops. Jane, I have to call you back." Hang up before she can protest.

Phil says, "We'll talk about who just accidentally heard what later. We need to get you swabbed for prints as soon as possible. Then you need to get on a jet and make a report to Fury in person. You might have just single-handedly crippled the most notorious terrorist on the planet."

I nod, "One of him, anyway." I get off comms and yell for a doctor, "Hey! Someone get a fingerprinting kit that works on skin!"

 

[Xavier Bronze]

AIM was officially disbanded a week ago. But of course that only drove them to shift attention to the criminal half of the organization. Yesterday we got an anonymous tip-off. Apparently her name is Doctor Borjigin, and she knows when she's on the losing team when one of their facilities is raided by multiple superhuman operatives.

Several bullets deflect off my back, and I draw my own gun and turn to shoot the soldier. A glow like lava fills the hole in his head, and the flesh melts back into place.

I run to him and grab his head by either side, funneling as much heat energy as I can inside. The glow burning through his skin from the inside grows brighter and he starts to scream. There's a bright flash and I'm knocked backwards by the blast. When my eyes readjust, I see a smoking headless corpse fall to the ground.

Nat offers me a hand getting to my feet, and I take it. She looks at the body, "You know before you showed up, bullets usually worked."

I walk over to pick up and reholster my fallen pistol, "They usually still do."

Clint comes on comms, "I found Killian. He's in the north wing of the lab. Thunderer, is the doc clear?"

Phil confirms, "Doctor Borjigin is safely in custody. All units assemble near the north wing. Avatar and Black Widow, secure the exit while War Machine and I bring in Killian. Hawkeye, pick off anyone who gets out."

'Assemble'? That word hasn't become significant yet, has it? I can't remember if I've said that around Phil yet in some context or not.

Nat and I hop into the nearest enemy jeep and she hotwires it within two seconds. I shoot a few people who run to try and stop us. We circle around the building until we find a metal door on the north side. Nat takes out a small explosive and plants it on the lock.

She asks on comms, "Everyone ready to breach?"

Rhodes says, "We were waiting on you guys."

Phil starts counting, "Breach in 3, 2, "

Nat detonates the explosive and the doors come off their hinges. We step over them and into the cloud of a smoke grenade, guns drawn. Nat takes out two combatants before I even see them. The third gets back up, and I empty my clip into his skull. He doesn't get up from that. I guess the healing must have its limits.

I put in a new clip, "Looks like bullets work after all."

I hear a thunderclap coming from somewhere else in the building.

Clint comes on comms, "Be alert. Killian pulled a big scary lever. We may be in for a tougher day than we thought."

Uh oh. Self-destruct? We don't have a technician with us. Nat could probably defuse a bomb, I think. I guess this is why they had Stark in the movies.

I ask, "Thunderer, War Machine. Do you need help taking down Killian?"

Rhodes answers and I can hear the same explosion doubled through the comms and the walls, "Negative, Avatar. Keep the perimeter secure. We don't want anyone getting out with a copy of the Extremis formula."

And then I see the giant glowing yellow eyes through the fog in front of us. And then it breathes, and the smoke is instantly blown aside.

A grizzly bear the size of a small car prowls through the corridor towards us. The orange light of Extremis shines from its eyes and jaws. How did we not hear this thing coming?

"Well shit." I get on comms, "I think I know what that lever did. Killian released his lab rats."

Clint grunts over comms and I hear wolves barking, "Yeah, I got that."

I lean slightly towards Nat and whisper, "Why isn't it attacking us?"

The bear sniffs the air and snarls. Its eyes narrow at us.

Never mind.

As soon as it's moving we both open fire. But guns of this caliber wouldn't even take down a regular grizzly. It reaches us and takes a swipe. I jump back a step, and Nat flips over its claw onto its back.

She grabs its fur with one hand and reloads one-handed before firing point-blank into the top of its skull. It rears as high as it can within the confines of the hallway to shake her off, claws swiping erratically.

While it's on two paws I aim lower, filling each back leg with four bullets. It roars at me, and a plume of fire fills the hallway around me just after I throw my hands up in a wedge shield. I drop my gun when it superheats in my hand.

The bear drops back onto four paws, and I take two steps back to stay out of its reach. I pop open one of my hardcase water pockets and spill it over one of its front paws, and then freeze it. The ice is already steaming, but it gives Nat the time she needs to unload another full clip into the creature's brain, and it finally falls.

Nat climbs off the front of its head, takes a deep breath, reloads again, and empties that into it too.

I give her a humorous eyebrow, "I think you got it."

She reloads again, "Better safe than sorry."

I shrug, "You can have my ammo. I think the grizzly melted my gun." I don't care too much. It wasn't the first gun SHIELD gave me. That gun is the one I keep in my room, although I think Jack has it right now.

I hand her a few spare mags from my belt and she takes them, "Thanks."

Clint comes on comms, "I need backup. I've been pinned up a tree by a pack of Extremis wolves, and they're starting to burn it down."

Nat runs out the way we came in, "On my way."

A few seconds pass broken only by the sounds of thunder and explosions. The only two conventional exits are this door and the bay window where I'm assuming Clint spotted Killian. So as long as I hold this door no-one can get out.

My head bends back at an impact to my mask. Ow. I need to look into some neck support later. I get up again and the soldier who shot me drops their weapon and puts their hands up. Seriously? One bullet and you're done? Is it because of the creepy mask?

I'm not actually sure what to do here. My gun is useless, partially melted out of shape on the floor. He's surrendering, so it feels wrong to fry him.

And then the hallway implodes into splinters as something crashes through, demolishing every wall on its way and probably crushing my hostage. I run out of the building as fast as I can and turn to see what it is.

An elephant that just broke out of the building trumpets a stream of what looks like napalm into the sky.

I get on comms, "Guys. Killian has an oliphaunt!"

Nat tells me, "You're getting no help from us. The wolves are herding us like cattle."

Am I gonna have to fight this thing by myself? Shit. Where do I even start?

Phil calls in, "Killian is secure. War Machine and I are free to handle the fire-breathing elephant."

I ask, already knowing they don't, "Do you need my help?"

"Go help Hawkeye and Black Widow."

Then Fury's voice cuts in, "Thunderer, War Machine. Try not to kill it. It's the only herbivore we've encountered, so it might be less hostile. If you can subdue it for research we might be able to figure out what exactly Killian's been feeding these people."

"That might be difficult, but I'll see what I can do."

I'm running towards Clint's last known position, "Director, while you're here, Jemma Simmons can help the team working with Extremis."

"I appreciate the intel, Avatar, but she's already on the team." Ah. Makes sense.

I can hear the barking now. I slow down and get on comms, "Hawkeye, what's your position?"

No response. If I had gone with the Heads Up Display version of the mask his position would just be on my compass. But since I didn't do that, I have no way of finding him unless he speaks up.

I hear a rustling in the bushes and turn around. I really hope I'm not being hunted by flaming wolves right now. I hope they didn't eat Clint.

I see something moving on the trunk of a nearby tree and blast it with fire. A piece of the bark peels off and then glides like a paper airplane down into the bushes somewhere else.

An Extremis wolf runs over to the bushes and starts growling at them. It doesn't even notice me. It's too busy barking at whatever that is in the bush. I slowly approach it from behind, and then extend my hands and start pushing heat into its body. It whimpers and starts to run away, only to explode before it can get quite out of sight.

I look back to the bush, and start to pull aside one of the larger leaves so I can look inside.

The leaf comes off and crawls up my arm. I squeal and fall on my butt trying to get away.

The lizard changes to the same midnight blue shade as my uniform, with a dark red stripe down its back where my arrow is.

You're a freaky looking thing. It's about as long as my handspan, minus the tips. Maybe eighteen centimeters. It has six legs, with webbing like a bat running from each of them to the torso. Its head looks like it unfolds like that one dinosaur from Jurassic Park.

A lizard that glides like a flying squirrel. A lizard that both glides and camouflages? Does that exist? That's a stupid question, I'm looking at it.

I stiffen as it crawls up onto my shoulder and faces forward. It's searching the area around us for threats, as if I'm not one.

I guess if it was going to attack me it would have already. I carefully start walking again and get back on comms, "Hawkeye? What's your situation?"

I hear his voice behind me and shriek, twirling around and getting in my Firebending stance.

He and Nat give me a second to realize how stupid I'm being, "Didn't mean to startle you." He strings an arrow and points it at the lizard on my shoulder, "Do you need me to take care of your friend there?"

It hisses, and a plume of fire sets the tip of Clint's arrow alight.

I look at it, and it looks back at me. Huh.

I shake my head, "No. Thanks."

It's hard to judge reptilian facial expressions, but it almost looks protective.

He questions, "You sure? That seemed pretty aggressive."

I nod, "Yeah, I'm sure. I think... it was trying to protect me. It thought you were threatening me."

Nat asks, "How can you tell?"

I shake my head, kind of freaked out by the feeling myself, "I'm not sure. Maybe because I protected it from a wolf a minute ago?"

What the fuck is wrong with me? There's a tiny dragon on my shoulder and I'm not trying to get rid of it? I'm scared. But somehow something makes me think that fear is unwarranted. Why do I think that? The more I think about it the more I know that there is no reason. At least no conscious reason.

Nat calls the rest of our team, "Thunderer? War Machine? Do you need any assistance with the elephant?"

Rhodes answers, "It's dreaming about lady fire elephants on top of what used to be Killian's lab. It and the doc might be the only research left intact from this site though. I think we're done here."

Clint nods, "Alright, copy that."

The lizard crawls down onto my hand. I turn palm up to make a little platform, and it curls around and starts chewing on its own tail. The tail glows with Extremis and grows just as fast as it can eat.

I realize that they'll want to study it, dissect it. And only a moment after I realize that I can't let that happen. I tell Clint and Natasha, "They're not taking him."

"Her." I look at Clint. He points, "The dewlap is too small to be a guy."

I ask, "You know what this thing is?"

He shrugs, "Not exactly. I've never seen one with six legs before. But the circus used to bring a few trained ones on tour. They're called gliding dragons."

He's never talked about the circus before. I didn't even know if that part of his backstory applied. I guess he's starting to trust me. That's a good feeling.

Nat asks me, "You're gonna keep that thing? You know you can't let her go free with Extremis in her system."

I nod, "I guess so."

She stops chewing on her tail, and curls up in my hand, going to sleep. Fuck. She's too cute to let die now.

I ask, "What's that thing called when a snake eats its own tail?"

Nat answers, "An ouroboros."

I nod, "Yeah, right. That. I'll name her Ouroboros. Or, Bo for short."

Clint shakes his head and starts walking in the direction of the former AIM lab, "You're the one that has to explain to Coulson. And you get to clean up after her."

Nat falls in line behind him, "Good thing you can put out fires with your mind, right?"

 

[Xavier Bronze]

We arrested Aldrich Killian yesterday. And now he's requested to speak to Avatar in exchange for telling us where the remaining fake Ten Rings outposts are.

I enter the observation area of a SHIELD containment cell. It's not one of the unbreakable ones from the tv show, but I've been assured that it can take ten times anything he can throw at it. He can't see me. But he still turns to face us. Bo sees him and scurries onto my back to hide from the man who experimented on her.

I ask Phil, "How does he know I'm here? I thought this window was one-way. He's looking right at me."

He shakes his head, "I don't know."

I see a sliver of fiery orange run up his tracheal artery, and his eyes glow, "How do you do it? One-point-two billion dollars of R&D got me this far up the evolutionary ladder. And then you come along. When my people detected your heat signature in New Mexico, we thought it had to be one of ours. But then it vanished. And then it kept popping up, somewhere underground on the coast near Metropolis? And then we get your blood, and there isn't a single special thing about it. So that left the question. How do you do it?"

I take a deep breath, and push the microphone button, "I'll answer yours if you answer mine. You said you detected my heat signature? How?"

He wiggles a finger at me, "That's not how this works, Avatar. I'm giving you my empire, and you want more?"

I look at Phil, "Do I have anything else to bargain with?"

"More comfortable containment."

I sigh, "Okay." Push-to-talk, "That cell doesn't look very comfortable. How would you like a real bed again?"

He pretends to think about it, "Tempting. But you're going to have to do better than that."

Improvise, "How good is your lawyer?"

"Better than yours."

Phil pulls me back away from the microphone, "I didn't authorize that offer."

Killian cuts in, "...But not cheaper. You want to know how we trace heat signatures?"

I look back at Phil, "According to him, I just docked his representation and made it less likely for the charges to be dropped. And the more we can learn about the Extremis research, the happier Fury will be. It's to our benefit." Even if his motives for wanting that may be suspect.

After a second-long frown I get a hesitant nod.

I turn back to our captive, "Yes. I want to know everything."

"Hidden in all flame is a unique variance, a... fingerprint if you will of where it comes from. Minute fluctuations, patterns in the way the temperature propagates that can be used to determine both the ignition fuel, and its method of sustenance."

What? Is he talking about elemental energy? AIM figured out a way to scan for it?

"Your fire is unique. But the closest match is…" He raises his hand and it glows red hot, "...My work. Extremis. But your genes are still only human. You must have gotten your fire somewhere. I've answered yours. Now you answer mine. Where did you get it."

"You didn't tell me everything. How do you track the signatures?"

He looks disappointed, "Oh come now, you can figure that out."

To Phil, "Can we?"

I get a nod.

I push the button again, "Alright. Fair's fair. My power isn't in my blood. It's in my soul. An ancient spirit that fused with mine a few months ago. I channel my Chi to sense and harness the universal energy of the four elements."

He frowns, "You could have just told me you're not willing to say."

I transmit my laugh, "I'm not lying. It's your own damn fault if you don't believe me."

I reach out my hand and try to feel his energy. It's unlike anything I've ever felt before. There's tiny strands and momentary flares of fire running throughout his entire body. Parts of his blood are boiling. Parts of his body are in the process of reducing themselves to ash. I can only assume the healing factor is the only thing making up for it.

And then I notice millions of miniscule subconscious heat shields, just like I use. Parts of his body are constantly protecting each other, taking turns between burning and healing in a molecular dance. I have to be impressed at AIM's work. Extremis really is something amazing.

I tell him more, "I think we use the same elemental energy. I have to consciously summon it. Your body does it for you. In some ways I envy your accomplishment, considering you had no idea what you were actually working with."

"That reminds me of something my father used to say. Ignorance is the first refuge of the wise. Understanding is the next."

...What? I'm sorry… What? That doesn't…

He gives a dismissing gesture, "I don't know why I brought that up. It's a stupid saying. The point behind it is, I think as the person who's been studying this for the last eight years, I can say that it's not based on any 'four elements' magic."

Push the button, "And as the reincarnating spirit-bridge-person who's been mastering it every generation for the last thousand, I think I still have seniority. And it's pretty much magic. Sorry, science dude. Your bubble: Pop."

He shakes his head, "You're insane."

I don't transmit the laugh this time, I just share it with Phil. He looks unamused. I push to talk, "Takes one to know one. I wasn't the one who took his own experimental formula and then decided to become a terrorist."

"Well you do run around in a mask." He sighs, "We're done here. I'm not giving you what you want if all you're going to give me is insults."

Ah, shit, "Wait."

He puts his arms to either side, "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Good point, "Right. Sorry. Your body. It's burning. The main thing keeping you alive is the regenerative effect."

He nods, "Yes, that's the primary bug in the formula we were never able to work out. It's why the subjects who couldn't regulate reacted so... flamboyantly."

"That's not the only thing keeping you alive. All of your cells would be burning up at once if your body wasn't generating tiny heat shields. Essentially, some of your cells are blocked off from the brunt of the heat by a strong layer of concentrated heat surrounding them."

He frowns, "That's not how heat works. It would radiate in both directions and destroy the thing you were trying to protect."

I'm getting frustrated, "It's how elemental heat energy works. The good heat blocks and cancels out the bad. In your case there is no good heat, but it's still serving the same function. It's happening in half the cells in your body and you're telling me you never noticed it?"

He nods, " We were getting some anomalous results on the cellular level. What you're describing could explain it. So you're saying if we can determine how this shielding works and enhance it so all the cells are protected instead of just some of them, it would prevent the cataclysmic system failures. If that's true it would also triple the healing effectiveness, if not more." He pauses and thinks for a second, "That's more than enough, I'll give you what you want. Thank you."

I let go of the button and walk away from the glass, "Good luck using that information in prison." Bo crawls around to my arm, and I give her head a little reassuring rub. Don't worry. That man can't hurt either of us anymore.

 

[Xavier Bronze]

It's Thanksgiving. Jack is with his mother. Phil is with Audrey. Natasha and Clint are at his place. Which would have left me alone.

If Jane and Erik hadn't invited me to spend the holiday with them.

I convinced Phil to let us borrow the Avengers house, where we held the party. Apparently, SHIELD just bought it, even though they only needed it for that one occasion. And since there are no operations going on in this area, we're free to use my credentials to crash here for a day or two.

The only bad thing about this is, Jane and I haven't talked about that night since… that morning. And it's become increasingly clear that she's not thinking about it like she said she would. She's not thinking about it. At all.

But she's still flirting with me.

If things were moving at all with Jack, none of that would be a problem. I'd just tell her I'm seeing someone else and we could both move on. But that's stalled out too. He turns evasive whenever things look like they might heat up.

Which wouldn't be a problem if he weren't still hitting on me too.

I'm getting mixed messages from both of them. Which makes me seriously consider choosing neither of them and just going clubbing instead.

Erik has noticed. He knows what's going on. He has to. He was awake when we both came inside that morning. I assume he's talked to her about it, because that's the only reason he wouldn't have talked to me about it. And at least he hasn't turned hostile.

Bo crawls around my torso, and I lift my arms to give her an open path. Jane looks a little creeped out, "And you're sure that thing is safe? Even though it's got this... Extremis thing?"

I smile as Bo finds her way down my arm and into my outstretched hand, "Yes. I'm sure."

Ever since we found each other I can't help but feel like Bo and I are… not destined. That's the wrong word. That we will be there to support each other. Maybe even forever. It might be an Avatar thing, but, I had kind of thought that that could only happen with particularly spiritual animals. Or at least ones the Avatar was already attached to. Why Bo? Why not that cockroach Ike smashed a few weeks ago? Or the horse that Mike taught me to ride on? Not that I'm complaining.

The doorbell rings and Jane runs out of the kitchen, "That must be dad! I'll let him in."

I look at Erik with dread, "Her father is coming?"

He smiles and nods, without looking away from the bowl of stuffing he's been working on. I hear the door open and close, and a strange voice. Erik sets aside his work, washes his hands quickly and walks out to greet his old friend.

...Can I just hide here?

Jane comes running back, "Come on, Xavier! I have to introduce you!"

Apparently I can't. I hesitantly follow her out to the front room.

He's tall, muscular, probably mid sixties with a well trimmed gray beard that any man would be proud of. He looks like the most distinguished character that could step right out of a Western film. He carries himself like someone who knows how to fight. He shifts his feet when he sees me and I can amend that to someone who knows how to swordfight. Nice hat.

He walks slowly over to me, "And you must be Xavier. I've heard a lot about you, from both of these two." He holds out his hand, with eyes that I would believe can shoot lasers.

I meet his eyes, smile, and shake his hand, "I'm flattered to be mentioned."

His grip is stronger than mine. After a second he decides not to crush me, "Call me Hank."

Bo crawls all the way onto his hand and smells him with her tongue. He regards her with curiosity, "I haven't heard anything about this one." He lifts his hand and looks her over, "I don't think I've seen this species before. What is she?"

I extend my hand, and Bo jumps to it and climbs back to my shoulder, "I don't know. Of all known species, she most closely resembles Draco Dussumieri, Dussumier's dragon. It's a kind of gliding dragon from southern India. But her camouflage is much better than most."

He nods, "And if I'm not mistaken they don't usually have six legs. Mysterious. Does she have a name?"

"Ouroboros. I call her Bo for short. She has a bad habit of chewing on her tail."

He chuckles at the name, "The universe had no need of eyes, because outside of herself to be seen there was only the eternal reason of which she already knew. Nor of ears for there was no-one other than herself to converse with. Nor was there any air to be breathed through lung or skin or any other organ. For a being which was sufficient to itself would surely be far more excellent than one which lived lacking."

I nod for a second, feeling stupid, "Erik told me about Jormungandr earlier. But that didn't sound Norse."

"Greek. Plato's all-encompassing serpent is sometimes credited for the inspiration of modern monotheistic philosophy."

Somewhat later, I find myself alone with Hank in the kitchen while Jane and Erik are setting the table. There's a sudden silence.

I'm mashing a bowl of vegetables when he starts looming, "What are your intentions with my daughter?"

I drop the potato masher in the bowl. I'm more than a little shocked to hear that question, "What do you mean?"

I can't look him in the eye, "I've seen how she looks at you. I've heard how she talks about you. And I've seen how you look at her."

Have I even looked at her while he's been here! How the fuck! I don't think I'm covering up my panic well. Bo smells my face to make sure I'm okay.

He grabs my unoccupied shoulder with one hand, "So I will be clear. If you hurt her in any way, I won't kill you. I won't put a finger on you. But you will regret taking her for granted."

I sigh and finally look up at him, "If I ever hurt her, I would deserve it." Deep breath, lay it all out, "We're friends first. We met under… scientifically interesting circumstances. I won't lie to you. I'm interested in her. But I'm not letting it go farther until I'm sure she's not just interested in me because I'm interesting, intellectually."

Bo crawls across my back and observes his hand for a moment. He's not letting go.

Might as well finish the story, "We… kissed a while ago, and I told her all of this. My concerns. She said she needed some time to think, and I said that was fine. But, since then nothing's changed, and I get the feeling she's ignoring that it ever happened. When I said time I didn't mean forever... It's not healthy for her to... default like this. We're friends first. That means I want her to be happy, and safe. I'm just trying to find out what's best for her."

I can't help but fidget. I just basically admitted to wanting to bang his daughter. I stare into the bowl of mashed roots for a while, and then look back up into his eyes, "So I think the real question, is what are her intentions with me?"

He lets go, "I'll talk to her."

And his footsteps are pounding down the hallway. Bo moves to the spot where his hand used to be.

Fuck, that was terrifying. How can one man without superpowers be more oppressive than a Ten Rings prison?

A few minutes later Erik comes in, "Is that done?"

The bowl's contents are almost a liquid by now, "Yeah, I think I kind of overdid it."

He laughs, "He's a great man, isn't he?"

I rub my eyes, "He certainly loves his daughter. He made that very clear."

Erik smiles sympathetically, "He doesn't know you like I do. You would never intentionally hurt Jane."

"Intentionally."

He waves off my worry, "Come on. Bring that out. The table's done."

So I come out and sit down across from the Fosters. Bo crawls down my body and goes to sleep between my feet. Erik sits next to me.

I put the bowl down and Jane looks at it, "What's that?"

I answer on autopilot, without looking at her directly, "Potatoes, carrots, beets, artichokes, half an onion, some garlic and ginger. It's called earthmash. It was a Thanksgiving tradition on Earth Prime." Or at least for Alex's family.

She smells it, "It looks amazing."

I look at her father, who seems like he's not paying attention, "The color is mostly the beets. I just hope I got the recipe right." No-one except us has said anything since I came in. This conversational ice is going to kill me, "So Hank, what are you a professor of?"

"Anthropology, Fencing, and 19th Century History." Fencing. Nailed it.

I look again at his outfit, "I guess Indiana Jones was your childhood, huh?"

He smiles, "It was more my teenage years."

And then we're eating. And for a while, the only sounds are satisfied mumbles from full mouths. This is only my second time having turkey, and I'm still not sure if I like it or not. But no-one else looks to be going for seconds, so.

I point, "Can you pass the turkey, Mr. Foster?"

He chokes on his beer and laughs, "That's not my name."

I look between him and Jane, "What do you mean?"

He chuckles, "Her mother and I separated on friendly terms before she was born. Once it became clear that she would be spending most of her time with me, I suggested she take her mother's name." He takes a bite of food.

I nod, "Okay. So what's your name, then?"

He finishes chewing, "I'm sorry, I thought you knew when you mentioned my father." What? When did I do that? He reaches across the table for another handshake, "Henry Jones. The Third."

WHAT?

Age him down by fifty years… Shia? Is that you behind the gray? Harrison Ford doesn't exist here.

I realize I've left him hanging, and immediately shake his hand, "Sorry, yes. Very nice to meet you, Professor Williams."

And the table is silent. I realize a second later what I said.

"Um, sorry, again. Professor Jones. Henry… Jones, The Third..."

He asks me, still holding my hand hostage, "How do you know my mother's name?"

Wait, so in the original timeline, Indiana Jones would've been Thor's grandfather-in-law?

No, focus. Think fast, "Didn't you say?" No, that's horrid. Try again, "I mean, I think Erik said at one point. Or maybe I read it somewhere? I definitely remember that name from somewhere."

Smooth. They will absolutely never see past that. My mastery of deception knows no bounds.

The former Mutt Williams leans in and points at me sternly, "Don't lie to me." And then he breaks into a smile, "You're a fan of my father's!"

Take it! "Yep! You got me! The Indiana Jones stories were always my favorites."

He lets go of my hand and passes the turkey with a laugh, "Mine too. We'll have lots to talk about."

 

[Xavier Bronze]

I've been debating with myself if this is the right thing to do or not. What the best way to handle the situation is.

Bruce Wayne has the potential to become one of the single greatest protectors the universe would ever know. If I let his story play out, he would save doubtless thousands of lives. Possibly even billions.

But unlike Stephen Strange, I don't know for certain. He might save the entire universe. Or he might just be the next Daredevil. A neighborhood stop-gap measure for the people of Gotham. And right now, he's just a kid. And his parents are alive. And however much I try I can't justify letting him become an orphan.

So here I am, in the shadows of Gotham. I know the Waynes are going to be walking through this street in approximately two minutes. My face is covered with a scarf. I'm wearing eye contacts and a throat compressor to distort my voice. And I'm carrying a fake pistol.

It took a lot to talk Phil into greenlighting this operation. But I can't just warn them and trust that they'll take my word. I would sound crazy. If I'm going to prevent this tragedy, I need to do it right. That means making certain that they stay careful from now on. No Joe Chill, no Jack Napier, no Mario Pepper.

Instead, they'll have me.

I see them turn onto my street. I give the camera SHIELD set up to monitor the op a nod. Then I step out of the shadows and raise my gun, mentally reminding myself that it's not real.

"Give me your money. Now."

I see the fear in Bruce's eyes. In contrast Thomas isn't scared. His eyes are full of compassion.

He struggles out a smile, "No problem." He puts a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, "It's okay, Bruce. We'll cooperate with this gentleman and then be on our way." He takes out his wallet and holds it out.

This is really hard. I'm close to crying. But I have to play my role convincingly.

I grab the wallet and point the gun at Martha, "The necklace too." She hesitates. I lift the gun to the sky and fire a warning blank before returning it to her face, "Quickly."

She rushes to unlatch the pearls, and when they're off her neck I grab the string with enough force to break it. Pearls scatter to the damp pavement below.

I look at Bruce. He's already going to remember this forever. Is this going to be enough? Do I need to go any further?

I look back at Thomas and Martha. Their lives depend on this. If I don't represent the very worst that Gotham has to offer, they could still die, and all this would be in vain. I need to get it right. I need to finish the plan.

I point the gun at Bruce, "Your watch."

He pales and freezes.

Thomas calmly kneels and helps Bruce take off his watch. And then hands it up to me.

I take it. And then Thomas says to me, on his knees, "Please. You've got what you came here for."

My hands are shaking. I don't know if I can say it.

I click the lever. It's not a real gun. There's no real danger. The next shot is going to misfire and jam the gun, "Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

And then Thomas Wayne realizes that I'm planning to murder his family. And then his fist is travelling towards my face.

I have to intentionally prevent my training from kicking in so that the punch connects. I do tilt my head so I can avoid a broken nose. I allow the gun to fly out of my hand, and hear it go off when it hits the ground. And even though his punch wasn't powerful enough at its awkward angle, I stagger backward a few steps before I turn tail and run.

I wasn't expecting him to fight back. But I guess it makes sense. He'd already tried reason, and I hadn't shown any signs of mercy.

That was by far the hardest thing I've ever done. I just hope it's effective.

I throw open the doors of a van and go inside, quickly shedding the scarf and stolen pearls. I dropped the wallet and watch back in the alley.

I sit down and take deep breaths. Bo crawls up my leg to check on me, but I can't even bring myself to give her a pet right now. I just need... I don't even know what I need.

Mike puts a hand on my shoulder, "Hey. Are you okay?" I remember Thomas comforting his son in a similar way, when I was pointing a gun at them.

I look up at the camera screens covering one wall of the van, "I want to see the tape. Play it again."

Ike is sitting at the computer controls, doing nothing.

"I said play it again."

He hesitantly does so, and I see someone very much not me robbing the Waynes and threatening their lives. It plays out just like it did so many times, in so many medias back on Earth Prime.

Up until the point where Thomas Wayne punches out their attacker, scaring him off and saving his family's life.

I was certainly convincing. I feel like a terrible person. I was a lot more sure that that was the right thing before I had to actually do it.

I take another long, deep breath, "It's going to be okay. We saved two lives today. And we stopped a young boy from becoming an orphan."

Ike shakes his head, "It doesn't feel like it."

I retrieve the giant bottle of scotch that I made sure to pack especially for this mission, "No it doesn't." Let's see how much of this bottle I can down in one minute. I'm going to need it for a while.

 

[Xavier Bronze]

I'm at the ground entrance to a base somewhere in Oklahoma. Mike and Natasha should be back soon, and Banner with them.

I've been doing nothing but negotiating for days to make this happen. I had to figure out acceptable risk according to Fury. Then acceptable risk according to Oklahoma. Then the even more strict acceptable risk according to Banner. Authorization and procedures to bring Banner inside a secure SHIELD facility. Eventually I even had to write an appeal to the World Security Council. They decided that we could just use the procedures for multi-megaton weapons development.

I don't know how I feel about that. For one thing, the Hulk is potentially much more dangerous than a simple bomb. But I'm also in the process of trying to convince people that he's only as dangerous as other people make him. And on top of that, going through these protocols, I'm not sure how sufficient they are for multi-megaton weapons development.

The van pulls up, and Natasha climbs out of the back, leading Bruce with a bag over his head. Once we're inside she pulls the bag off.

Bruce looks around, "Concrete?"

I nod, "Steel mesh reinforced, five meters thick, with fifteen centimeters of lead. The door is the same kind as the President's panic room. You could set off a Hydrogen bomb inside this base without a single civilian casualty."

Okay, maybe not. The tectonic effects of something like that would probably cause a few fatalities in nearby towns. And the radioactive fallout would probably require a few thousand relocations. And it would kill satellite connectivity across the whole state for a week. But the blast itself would be vastly minimized.

He nods, "Where are we doing this? How do you stay safe?"

I direct his attention to the elevator, "This is just the surface entrance. We'll be going almost a full kilometer down. No-one else is going down with us."

He looks at me, "What about you?"

I shrug, "I'm not going to pick a fight." He seems unconvinced, "I'm wearing the best body armor that still looks non-threatening. I wanted you to set him free at the party. This is the middle ground."

"And what about your friend?"

Oh, right. I guess Bo shouldn't come with us. Every time we have to separate for any reason it gets harder. I pick her off my shoulder and hand her off to Natasha, "Take care of her." I don't even know which of them I was talking to.

Nat looks distinctly unsettled as Bo crawls up her arm, "Just for a few minutes."

I look back at Bruce, asking with an eyebrow if he has any further complaints. He sighs and closes his eyes, "Okay."

The two of us get in the elevator, and it starts going down. This is a fast elevator. Almost as fast as the one in the Daily Planet building. But it still takes almost five minutes to get to the bottom.

At the bottom is a twenty meter radius domed cavern, with only a single flood light at the very top. Rough grain concrete is the only visible surface. It's designed to be extremely durable and cheaply repairable.

We step out, and a minute later the elevator leaves without us. Can't risk it being damaged and stranding us down here.

I shake my head looking at the mandated meeting place, "I didn't want it to be like this."

Bruce doesn't respond. He starts walking to the opposite end of the chamber.

In the dark I can only barely see him on the other end. But once he starts changing, it gets a lot easier. The dot bulges and writhes, expanding in a very unnatural way.

And then I hear the roar. For several seconds, the echo lingers.

The Hulk rips chunks of the floor out and starts throwing them. I see them shattering into dust against different sections of the domed ceiling. One hits above me, and I have to move out of the way of one of the falling pieces.

My footsteps echo across the room, and the Hulk quiets.

And then he jumps. I see the figure rise and briefly silhouette against the light. And then it falls, and grows, and grows, and keeps growing.

An angry Hulk lands three meters away from me with enough force to knock me off my feet. He shouts, and raises his fists overhead. I roll out of the way and see the concrete shatter where I just was.

I roll to a stand and raise my hands in what I hope is recognizably a peaceful gesture. My feet are still primed to run, even though I know there's no escape.

He turns to face me. I see the pain and fear behind the anger. He just got free from Banner's cage, only to wake up in another one.

I speak softly, and he has to stop growling to hear, "Hey. Shhh. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

He's still snorting, snarling. Every second he's deciding over again whether to pummel me into a liquid or not. So I give him no reason to. I stay low, both in stance and tone. I keep my limbs visible and any movements slow.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Are you going to hurt me? I'm trusting you not to. It's your choice."

He looks confused, and then rips up another chunk of concrete and hurls it across the room. And his fists come down to my left. I sidestep away. And then he attacks the ground behind him, tearing up even more of it. And he slams his latest boulder down to my right.

He halts, hand still on top of the rock to my right, just above eye level. The only movement now is his breathing.

I slowly reach for his hand. His head snaps to look at me, and I stop my approach. And then start again, even slower.

My hand is only centimeters away from one easily ten times its size. He's looking at me. And I'm looking at him. I don't try to disguise my fear. He has to understand why people react the way they do. And understanding requires honesty.

His whole body flinches at the contact, and I retract. Palm forward. Make sure he knows that I'm backing off because it's what he asked.

There's such a storm of negative emotion in those eyes. Fear, anger, suspicion... And deeper down a great sadness. I wonder if he's ever had a happy moment.

I start to sing, softly, "Home is behind."

His head shakes, as if he's trying to get something out of his ear.

"The wo-orld's ahead."

He tilts his head in curiosity, while his lip snaps upward in a distrustful snarl.

"And there are many paths to tread."

He moves his hand off the boulder and straightens to look at me more directly. His face is half a meter away from mine.

"Through shadow. To the edge of night. When the stars are all aligned."

He crouches lower, settling and ever so slightly calming. But still with an edge of threat.

"Mist and shadow. Clo-oud of shame. All shall fade."

I pause, gazing through his eyes into a system of greater apparent complexity than the sky itself. Everything about the unit in front of me is in turmoil. Body, minds. It's like he finally has a calm moment, and he has no idea what to do with it.

"All sha-all… Fade."

I put my hand where his used to be, on the boulder. He looks at it, jerking back slightly on instinct. Then he leans in, as if to smell it. I turn it palm up, and he flinches a little less.

He moves his head back, and lifts his hand closer to mine. I barely graze the tip of his finger with the backs of two fingernails. He blinks repeatedly, trying to figure out how to react. So we just stay there for a few seconds.

I pull away, and sink carefully into a cross-legged position on the ground.

He looks confused. I realize he doesn't understand relaxation. Nothing has ever been calm around him before.

I smile, "It's okay. We've already done more than I was expecting on our first session." I lean back on my elbows and close my eyes for a moment, "It's okay."

And then I hear a thud, and feel the air move. I open my eyes again and see the Hulk sitting next to me, mimicking my posture. He's not looking at me anymore. He's looking at the light at the top of the dome.

So we sit. We quietly sit and simply coexist in proximity.

What feels like an hour later I hear the body next to me reducing. When I look Banner is watching his hand deflate to normal human size.

He looks at me, "You're alive."

I nod calmly, "I am."

He looks at his hand again, "He didn't hurt you."

I smile softly, "I didn't hurt him."

 

[Xavier Bronze]

I unplug the HDMI cable and then plug it in again. The TV springs to life.

Mike cheers, "Whoo! What'd you do?"

I plop down on the couch between him and Jack, "I just jiggled the connection. You'd be surprised how often that's the solution. It's the cable equivalent of turning it off and then on again."

Since Thanksgiving Clint and I have put some effort into making the Avengers house a little more comfortable, so that eventually it might become a potential base of operations. Part of that was setting up a media room. Not quite the private theater that H.O.M.E. has, but we were able to scrape up enough funding to make it almost as nice as the one Alex had.

It was Mike's idea to throw a party for the Republican Presidential debate. For some reason he thought he needed to unplug everything while I was feeding Bo. Shouldn't SHIELD teach basic tech stuff to their operatives?

Ike finds Fox News and we see a line of eight candidates at flashy podiums like it's some kind of reality gameshow. I guess really in a way it is. 'Who Wants to Rule the Free World?' America doesn't even have mandatory vote. The whole ordeal is such a joke.

Jane comes in with potato chips and a tub of sour cream. She squeezes between Jack and me, "Did I miss anything?"

This couch isn't big enough for five people. Whatever. I shake my head, "Nothing the rest of us didn't too."

We still haven't talked through everything. But she's being a lot more conscious about not flirting as much. She's out of denial now. Whatever her father, Hank, said to her got her thinking again, at least. That's enough for me.

I take a potato chip, and Jack does the same. Bo sniffs the sour cream and I pull her away and place her on my opposite knee. Among many things I've learned recently, reptiles can't handle dairy.

I ask Mike, "So who are these clowns?"

Mike watches the screen with rapt attention, "The primary contenders you have to remember are Mitt Romney, Ron Paul, and Matthew Ellis. Mitt Romney is a business man. That means lower taxes and fewer restrictions on the economy. Ron Paul wants small government and a non-interventionist foreign policy. Matthew Ellis was running on a platform of protecting America from the Mandarin. But, ever since we arrested Trevor Slattery he's switched to anti-vigilantism and defense against superhumans."

I remember. Matthew Ellis was the President in Iron Man 3. I smile, "Okay, so you all know that I know who wins this, right?"

Suddenly I have Mike's complete attention. He's practically begging me with his eyes to tell him.

Ike shakes his head, "No spoilers. I only watch TV twice every four years: The Presidential Election, and the Winter Olympics. You're not ruining this for me."

I nod, "Okay. I'll tell you another time, Mike."

The candidates' arguing goes over the time limit and they get cut off by a pinging sound. Jack shakes his head and rubs his eyes.

I ask him with a laugh, "You okay over there?"

Jack sighs, "I'm fine. This isn't my party. Everyone there is running against something. Where's the positivity?"

I see one of Mike's hands ball into a fist.

I say to Jack, "Maybe we can talk about that another time. I kind of agree with you, but like you said it's not our party." Then to Mike, "Wasn't your new girlfriend supposed to be here?"

He nods, "Yeah. She said she would be. I texted her half an hour ago and haven't heard back. Maybe the fifth date was a little early for something so political."

I shrug, "Hey, if you're passionate about it."

The TV host asks Matthew Ellis, "Your campaign has been driven by the promise to take down the Mandarin during the next term. Two weeks ago, President Obama beat you to it. How do you plan to respond to that if you are elected?"

Ellis responds in a way that makes me think he rehearsed it, "Well, the first thing the people have to understand is that the Mandarin was only one part of the problem we're facing. With the advent of Superman and Iron Man, we've entered a new age. Individuals now carry enough power to contend with nations and personally shape the course of history in their own image. Those specific cases are heroic. But other times you end up with the Mandarin. Or Lord Dyne, a sole man who holds absolute power over his nation. We need policies and enforcement that can handle people like that. And that's all I've ever promised."

The audience cheers, and Mike claps.

He has a point. For every Iron Man who blows up weapons caches in the Middle East, there's going to be a Whiplash who hijacks military tech and turns it against civilians. Or a Killian who uses top-notch tech to become a terrorist. I can't reasonably expect the United States government to trust the defense against superhumans to SHIELD completely. As long as they don't get in our way.

The host pushes the issue more than seems unbiased to me, "Now, you say that these empowered individuals are dangerous. But early accounts suggest that the series of assaults that recently halted Ten Rings hostilities were conducted by a team of superhuman operatives, including Colonel James Rhodes, the 'War Machine'. The very superhumans that you're calling a threat. What's your response to that?"

Ellis briefly looks annoyed before expertly recovering his politician's smile, "As I just said, no matter how many good and patriotic examples we may have, the fact remains that these people are out there. And not all of them are heroic. We have to recognize the potential danger that represents to our great nation. A brand new global superpower stronger than China, stronger than Russia, of unknown allegiance. The United States needs to be strong enough to survive this new breed of soldier."

The doorbell rings, and Mike stands, "That's probably Mick and Joan."

Let's see… Mick and Joan... were Mike's classmates back at the Academy. Ike mentioned that Mike and Joan dated a few times at some point.

They come piling into the room. Mick looks like a gameshow host. Joan looks like a weather woman. They look like assholes. I stand to greet them.

Mike introduces them, "Everyone, meet two of my oldest friends. Mick and Joan Blunt. Mick, Joan, this is Xavier, and two of her friends, Jack and Jane." The Blunts don't look related. I'm guessing husband and wife.

We have an Ike, a Mike, a Mick, a Jack, Jane, and Joan. No, this won't do.

I reach out to Mr. Blunt for a handshake, "Mick. You don't mind if I call you Mr. Blunt, do you? Mick is a little close to Mike and I don't want to confuse anyone."

Mr. Blunt accepts the handshake, "Xavier, I've heard... things. I don't… Who's Mike?"

Mike shakes his head with a chuckle, "I am. She calls me Mike. And thanks to her everyone else here calls me Mike too. She calls Harold-"

"Don't." Ike glares at his partner.

I finish, "Ike. I call him Ike."

Mr. Blunt nods, confused, "Right."

Mrs. Blunt walks over to Ike and wow is that posture suggestive, "Lovely to see you again, Harold."

Ike doesn't even notice, "Nice to see you too, Mrs. Blunt." Oh good. Someone else calls them by last name too.

She's got it bad, "Please, how many times do I have to tell you. Call me Joan."

Ike points with his thumb, "Well we've already got a Jane, so…" My point exactly!

Mr. Blunt is giving the whole exchange a stink-eye, which supports them being married instead of related. But that also makes Mrs. Blunt kind of a fuckhead.

Mike sets out two folding chairs, and Mr. Blunt sits in one of them. Mrs. Blunt then sits on his lap, leaving Mike having brought out an unnecessary chair. Is that rude? It seems a little rude. Mike, I don't think I like your taste in friends.

I know Mitt Romney is one of the richest people in America, and Ron Paul is boring. I ask, "What's Ellis' story?"

Mike answers, "He was a member of the NYPD. Then he joined the army, did two tours and earned a long list of medals. But he was discharged after he publicly criticized Obama for not doing more to stop the Mandarin attacks. A lot of people thought he was right. He ran for the senate in 2010, and got in on a landslide."

"Wait, so he's only been in politics for, what, two years? Isn't that kind of fast to run for President?"

He nods, "Way too fast, if you ask anyone in office now. But he's a veteran, and the masses dig that. And he talks a good point."

NYPD. Huh. The election is in November, right? The Chitauri invasion was probably a pretty important factor toward him bumping off Obama's second term. Huge attack with many deaths at the hands of a superhuman army, right in his hometown, only halted by the efforts of a United Nations intelligence agency and a rag-tag group of vigilantes. So many things about that make Obama look bad. And even more make Ellis look right.

They broach the subject of the Stark Expo attack. And predictably, Ellis outshines everyone. This is absolutely his issue. I can tell everyone else is doing their best to steer the discussion away as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately it doesn't seem like Ellis has much else. He has opinions, and he's obviously done his research. But he can't talk circles around the others on any other topic to the same degree. I think the news is going to say he won this debate. Which is still impressive, considering how much things have been tipped against him. But it's not clear cut.

"Bo! No!" Jane pushes her away from the sour cream.

I move her up to my shoulder, "Thanks, Jane."

I hear Mr. Blunt whisper to Ike, "So what's with the freaky lizard thing?"