Everyone's out on assignment. H.O.M.E. looks like a ghost town. Even Mike had to go off and do something, so some other douchebag is taking over alongside Ike as my babysitter for a day or two.
They've had me practicing my fire at an underground shooting range ever since I got here. I can now actually set fire to selective large swaths of floor. So, mildly more useful, I guess. Control is still an issue. And I always get really hungry after an hour or two of training. Not sure why. I can't actually be burning
calories.
I'm at the shooting range when my earpiece beeps to let me know I've got incoming orders. I tap to receive and start my way back toward the locker room, "Yeahp. What's up?"
An agent I don't recognize says, "Your file says that Earth Prime had movies and comics about Superman. Do you have outside knowledge on Superman?"
I've read a fair amount about the Man of Steel on this Earth in the past week or so. Debuted in 2002. He stopped conventional crime in Metropolis
completely in under a month. Not a small feat for a city across the state line from Gotham. Of course there was outcry, and panic, and all that bad stuff. But after a few months to chill out people realized that Metropolis was better off and shut up. At least, most of them.
He mostly stays in his city. But on occasion, when there's an ongoing situation that gets heavy news coverage, he'll make an appearance and help out. A lot of people accuse him of not working hard enough. A lot of people accuse him of interfering too much. Basic superhero controversy bullshit.
There was a brief scare in 2004, when he showed up at a UN conference. But, turns out they were just discussing an issue he was interested in, and he wanted to watch. So, after clearing it with a few dozen militaries, they let him sit with the press. Since 2008 he's even had a "Krypton" representative's seat that mostly stays empty. But he'll show up if it's something big or important enough, something he's interested in, or something that has to do with him directly.
He doesn't seem nearly as strong as most versions. Even though he looks like Tom Welling, he doesn't have that much in common with the Smallville version either. The most I can find record of him lifting is a 10,000 ton cruise liner, and the fastest he seems to be able to fly is a little over Mach 2. Although, his acceleration seems to be near-instant. As far as toughness, he dodged tank shells one time. So he might be injured by something like that. But there's definitely plenty of accounts of him being bullet and knife-proof.
As far as his alter ego, Clark Kent, born 1979 in Smallville, Kansas. Went to Smallville High and worked for the school paper. Interned at the Daily Planet before moving to Metropolis in 2000 to work there full time. Published his first solo article in 2004, to much success and acclaim. Since then he's been one of the biggest names in journalism, alongside his fiance of three years, Lois Lane. Apparently there's still no date set for the wedding.
But, to answer the call, "Yeah, I do. What'do you need to know?"
"Report to the hangar bay in five minutes."
I finish changing into my SHIELD blues and head over. An older overweight black man meets me at the hangar entrance and walks with me over to a plane, "Do you know Superman's secret identity?"
Well this is interesting. I look at him kind of suspiciously, "Yeah? Do you?"
"It's part of SHIELD's agreement with Superman that we not pursue that information. So no. No SHIELD agent does."
Bull. Shit. Even if they're not
supposed to know, they know. There's no way they've let Superman stay anonymous and effectively unsupervised for this long. They just can't have
me knowing that they know, "So if you don't
have information, and you don't
want information, what
do you want?"
He walks up onto the plane and I follow, "Superman hasn't been seen for almost 72 hours. If you know who he is, we need you to assess his situation. Your tracker implant has been temporarily disabled." He turns and addresses my agent shadows, "You two are not to put Superman's location or identity in your report, or tell anyone. Even your superiors. To do so would place you strictly and legally under Kryptonian jurisdiction. Superman would be able to do with you as
he saw fit."
So we fly to an airfield just outside Metropolis. They take an extra flyaround, but it still only takes a few minutes from takeoff to landing, so it's painfully obvious where H.O.M.E. is. Since I'm not actually representing SHIELD, I change back out of uniform into my civies.
Metropolis is beautiful. It's called the City of Tomorrow, and I can see why. It's a city of juxtaposition. Towering skyscrapers intermixed with suburban-styled houses. The street grid is the straightest and most consistent I've ever seen. But the buildings are as varied as they come. Some take definite international influence. Others are massive archways that stretch over the roads and even over other buildings for several blocks. It's like someone built a brand new city in the 90s, and every five years they've just built another city on top of and around the last one. Many buildings have different architecture for every floor they go up.
It's not hard to find the Daily Planet building. It takes up four blocks and towers over the already impressive city skyline. Not to mention the giant spinning globe on top. It's one of the most memorable buildings in the world, with many people calling it a modern World Wonder.
I walk through the intimidatingly huge and well-decorated lobby, feeling completely outclassed in my red flannel. I ask the front desk, and they say Clark works on the 98th floor. I see a plaque on the wall. This building was built in the 50s? Dang. I step into the elevator and input the floor number via keypad. I guess eventually it gets annoying to have individual buttons for each floor.
The door dings open not two minutes later.
...What? The elevator can't possibly be that fast, can it? I step out and, sure enough, there's a sign telling me I'm on the 98th floor.
After talking to two more desks, I find Clark Kent and Lois Lane's office. As basically the biggest celebrities in the business, they get a lot of nice stuff from the company. It occurs to me that one of the only reasons I've gotten this far into the building is probably because they think Ike and Dike are my bodyguards, which makes me some kind of bigshot too.
Just as I'm thinking that, someone steps between me and the office door, "Can I help you?"
"Yeah, I was looking for Clark Kent?"
The woman tells me, "Mr. Kent is home sick today. But you could make an appointment for Thursday?"
Well he's not doing what he's usually doing when he takes a sick day, "No thanks. Could you tell me his address?"
She frowns and shakes her head, "I'm calling security."
Shit. I didn't think how that might sound. I guess I am kind of stalking him, aren't I.
Ike grabs her arm as she's leaving and flips out his SHIELD badge, "Mam, we're with SHIELD. Do you have his address?"
She looks at the badge and gets all flustered. Ha! You just tried to arrest government agents. She nods quickly and walks around us into the nicest office I've ever seen, "Yes, I can get that for you. Just one minute."
So, another half-hour, and I'm outside an extremely generic and low-key apartment among hundreds of others just like it. I guess job benefits don't necessarily correlate to a high income. Ike and Dike agreed to stay downstairs, so it's just me when I knock on the door.
And Clark Kent answers the door, "Yes?"
And this
is Clark Kent. It may sound stupid, but in person it's a pretty compelling disguise. His hair is unkempt. His clothing is too big for him, so he looks slightly overweight. He slumps and shifts on his feet.
And, right now, he's also very obviously
actually sick. His eyes are bloodshot. His hands are shaking. He's sweating like a madman, and he's got a box of tissues in one hand.
And he forgot to put on his glasses before coming to the door.
I'm actually kind of worried about this guy now.
I give a little wave, "Hey Superman."
I'm inside the apartment, the door is shut, and his hand is to my throat before I even see that he's moved, "Who are you?"
I try my best to stay calm. I run through all the accounts of his heroism in my head. In almost nine years of activity, he's never killed
anyone. No missing persons cases. Nothing. The most he's ever done is break the wrist of a serial bomber, and
that was an accident. This isn't like Loki. He's not going to hurt me. I just need to make sure he knows that I'm on his side.
I choke out, "You forgot to put on your glasses before you answered the door."
He blurs for a moment, and then he's wearing his glasses and my neck is freed. The threat in his eyes isn't gone, though. We both know he could snap me like a twig if he wanted to. Even if he is shivering in a very unnerving way.
I keep talking, "I'm Xavier Bronze. I know you're Superman. I know you're Clark Kent. I know your father was Jor-El and I know your cousin is Kara Zor-El, or Kara Danvers, here. Your Kryptonian name is Kal-El. And I'm here to help."
"How do you know all that?"
I swallow, "I'm afraid that's classified." His fist tightens, "But as far as I know, no-one else does. You don't have to worry about me telling anyone. The
last thing I want is
you as my enemy."
He takes a slow step back, expression still deadly serious, if slightly less fearful, "Why are you here?"
"You vanished. People have been wondering where Superman is. I needed to make sure you were okay. It's pretty clear that you're not."
He backs off a little more and sighs, resting against the back of a couch behind him, "I'm sick."
"Have you ever been sick before?"
He shakes his head, "No."
Shit. "Any idea what's causing it?"
He leans his head back, obviously exhausted, "No. I haven't fought anything alien or magical in
months. I don't know what it could be. I stopped a meltdown in Dakota City last week, but
that shouldn't have had any side-effects." He looks back at me, "Who do you work for anyway? The DEO?"
There's a DEO here. Good to know. "SHIELD"
He stands back up, but I can tell every movement is a strain right now, "I thought we had an agreement. I don't investigate you, you don't investigate me."
"SHIELD doesn't know who you are.
I do. I'm a consultant. They called me in because they thought I might be able to contact you. They were right."
Technically true. But misleading. Fury would be proud.
I ask, "What was the last hero work you did before you got sick?"
He shrugs, "I don't know. I saved some miners from a cave-in. I caught someone who jumped off a building, and someone
else who jumped off the cliffs. I busted an Intergang cell. The police had me x-ray a building to see if there was a bomb under it. I do a lot."
"Sounds like it." Hmm. That makes things hard. It's basically up to me and Clark to solve this thing. I look around the apartment a little, daring to move for the first time.
And that's when I see the vividly green metal statue of a dragon on a tabletop.
I point to it, "What's that?"
He looks to see what I'm pointing at, "It's a gift, from the Latverian embassy. Lord Dyne gave it to me himself after I did a piece on the environmental cleanup he's been spearheading in eastern Europe and Russia."
Fuck, does he not know? "And it never crossed your mind that it might be Kryptonite?"
He blinks at me, "What's that?"
Fuck! He doesn't know! I walk over and pick up the small statue. It's about a foot tall. But I think it's hollow, because it doesn't weigh very much. Or maybe that's just because it's made of Kryptonite, because that's what this fucking is.
I hold it up, "We need to get this out of here as fast as possible. Can I go do that real quick?"
He starts to stand up, "I'll go with you-"
"No. That defeats the whole point. We need this thing to be far away from you. You… go up to the roof. I'll meet you there in five minutes."
I walk out, and he doesn't stop me. And I know he can. So I go downstairs and give the statue to Ike and Dike before heading up to the roof.
Clark is up there, so I guess he listened. He looks a little peeved though, "What's going on? What
was that? And why are we up here?"
"You need to sunbathe to get the toxin out of your system. Take your shirt off."
He looks confused, and still looks annoyed, "How do you know so much about my species?"
I know it's completely reasonable, but I'm getting a little frustrated with his attitude, "I'm the closest thing to a Kryptonian specialist that
exists on this planet." It's time to explain, "That statue was Kryptonite. It's a radioactive mineral from your homeworld." His eyes widen in surprise, "I don't know if Doom gave it to you intentionally, or if it was just an accident. But either way, we have to assume from this point on that he knows who you are, and he knows what that stuff can do to you."
He's beginning to understand, "Who's Doom? Why would they want me disabled?"
Oops. Wrong name, "Dyne. Sorry, they call him Doom where I'm from. Victor Dyne. He gave you that, right?"
He nods, "You're saying he gave me the statue to test me. And now he knows that that material weakens me."
"And if he didn't before, now he knows your secret identity too."
...Is he looking at my boob?
Next thing I know I'm flying backwards off my feet. I hear two gunshots, then I fall to the roof again. I see Superman on his knees, and blood pooling below him. A red light flares from the window of a building behind him, and I jump behind an airconditioning unit as cover.
I pull out my new phone and call Ike, "pickupickupickupickup- Ike! There's a sniper in the building to the-" check the sun, "-south of here. You need to find them and take them down right now or Superman is dead, you hear me?"
He answers exactly as a SHIELD agent should, "Copy that. We're on our way there now. Can you see what floor they're on?"
Call me a coward all you like, but I'm not sticking my head out of cover right now. It was high enough to have a clear view of this roof, so, "No, it looked like 40th or higher? I don't know." Time to make a judgement call, "Call an ambulance for Clark Kent, two bullet wounds in the back. He's not moving."
I can hear Ike running over the phone, "I've located the sniper. I'll be there in 90 seconds."
And this is the kind of thing that
never happens in the movies. Because there's nothing I can do but wait for 90 seconds. I just have to stay here and stay on the phone and listen, and watch Superman bleed. And that feeling of complete powerlessness is pretty much terrible. It's like a nightmare.
Finally, after far,
far too long, I hear punching over the phone. As soon as I do, I run out of cover.
And immediately leap back behind when another gunshot sounds off! That must mean there's more than one of them. I'm surprised my nerves aren't worse than they are. But I guess after Loki and Sif and Barton and the giant snake and Shazam and Superman himself just earlier today, I'm starting to get used to the deadly peril.
Ike's voice comes over the phone again, "Coast is clear. Agent Dormer is waiting with the assassins until the authorities arrive. I'm going to try and get back to you before the EMTs. I didn't give them a name. What's our cover?"
Shit. Should I strip him down and tell them it's Superman, or call him Clark because he's vulnerable? "Give me a minute. I'm gonna check on his injuries."
I run over to look at him and that is a
lot of blood. It's impossible for me to avoid making little splashes of blood when I kneel to get a closer look. He's unconscious, which just makes everything so much more complicated. He's on his back, and that's where the wound is, so I can't see it.
Okay. The EMTs are coming. Stop thinking like a bad doctor and start thinking like a fledgling spy. He doesn't have his glasses. But his hair is in "Clark mode", he's wearing civilian clothes, and he's bleeding. All of that together means he's... probably not recognizable as Superman? Maybe? It doesn't seem like he's getting his powers back as quickly as I was expecting. Kryptonian + Kryptonite = convincing human? Convincing to doctors? Ugh. This is a terrible choice.
"His powers are temporarily disabled. We'll tell them Clark Kent was shot. I heard the gunfire and came up to make sure he was alright. Can you grab his glasses from his apartment on the way up? Room two-twenty-six B."
I can hear the sirens approaching now. This is
not how I was hoping this day would go.
Not long later, Ike bursts out onto the roof. I'm still kneeling in a small pool of Superman's blood. Ike sees me, and him, and freezes.
"Shit."
I nod, "Yeah, I know."
He puts a hand to his head, "How did this even happen?"
"That dragon statue I gave you and Dike? It's made of a material called Kryptonite. As in Krypton, the planet he's from. It's radioactive and can disable or kill Kryptonians."
He's staring at the unconscious alien, "How long until he recovers?"
I shake my head, "I don't know. The comicbooks and movies back home are inconsistent. Could be seconds. Could be weeks. If he gets his powers back while he's in the hospital, we'll need to do what we can to cover it up." I sigh, "The sniper was aiming at me. He took the bullet for me. Who knows if he even knew he was
vulnerable. This is my fault."
"It's okay." I look at Ike, and it looks like he's talking just as much to himself as me, "We'll do everything we can. We're not going to let him die." He hands me the glasses.
I carefully rest them on his nose, "It's not just his life that's at risk. It's his
life... on earth, with Lois, at the Planet. He needs Clark Kent to keep him grounded, keep him sane, give him off time. And he might lose that because of me."
Ike pulls out his phone, "I'm calling in a favor. If we're lucky we can clear all record of- Yes, hello. I need…"
The EMTs come out onto the roof with a gurney in tow. I stand up and get out of their way as they lift him onto the bed. One of them turns to me, "What happened here?"
I lie, "I heard the gunshots and came up. He was like that when I found him. I don't know what happened. I called as soon as I could."
They start rolling him back towards the door in. I'm surprised they aren't questioning…
Where the fuck is Ike? Where did he even go? We're on the roof! I'm gonna ask him about that later.
I follow the EMTs all the way to the elevator, but there isn't room for me there. So I call the next one and wait.
And here I am again, with nothing to do but
wait, with the fate of the most powerful man in the world in the balance.
-|-|-
I'm waiting in the hospital. Dike is questioning the shooter. They haven't talked yet, but since they didn't bite a pill I'm guessing Ten Rings. Meanwhile, Clark Kent is in surgery. And I have
no idea what's happening in there. I'm not family, so I'm not allowed anywhere near him until he's stable. The only update they've given me is that he isn't dead yet.
God I hate this. I want something,
anything to do. All my outside knowledge, useless. Firepower, same. I'm not a hopeless work-hard or anything. I've had plenty of downtime on this Earth. But there was always something I
could do, if I'd wanted to. Now? I could be here for a while.
Erica Durance storms in and over to me. Shit, I'd forgotten about Lois! She grabs my arm and drags me around a corner.
"What happened up there? I mean what really happened? And don't even
think about trying to shit me."
Finally someone who talks my language, "Your fiance had been neglecting his
hobby. SHIELD noticed, and asked me to make sure he was okay."
She interrupts, "We have a deal with SHIELD."
"Which
would be broken if I were an
agent or were reporting back to them. I'm not. I'm a consultant. They contacted me because they had reason to believe I knew Superman's identity."
She glares at me suspiciously, "How
do you know, anyway?"
"That's classified." I really need to look into getting a cover story for my outside knowledge... "But the secret is safe with me. The last thing I want is more enemies."
She seems momentarily placated.
"When I found him I got rid of the thing that was making him sick and took him up to the roof." Here comes the bad part, "Unfortunately, one of my pre-existing enemies got involved. There was an assassin after me, and Clark took the bullets. It was all my fault."
She slaps me. She looks like she wants to say something, but just slaps me
again instead. She stares in exactly the same way for one… two…
I catch her hand before the next hit, "Use your words."
She rips her hand free and points at me, "If he dies…"
I interrupt her this time, "If he dies I'll never forgive myself, and I'll submit myself to his cousin for whatever Kryptonian punishment she finds appropriate. And I'll do my best to avenge his legacy. This is already one of the worst days of my life."
She still has a lot of pent up anger, but it's not as laser-guided at
me anymore.
She asks, "Something was
making him sick? What can do that?"
"A radioactive green rock from his homeworld. It's called Kryptonite, and it's basically an open
microwave for Kryptonians. Disables their powers, and in large doses
can kill them. You're lucky this wasn't a particularly strong alloy. You could've been a widow days ago."
She starts pacing, "It was Dyne, wasn't it? That tacky green statue… I
told him gifts were always trouble."
"Since you're his emergency contact, I assume, can you go check on him? The most I can find out is that he's not
dead yet."
That seems to snap her out of it. She nods, "Yeah. I should go do that. Don't go anywhere."
As if I'd risk it. I go sit down again.
In a few ways, Lois and I have something in common. We're both smart. But we both follow our gut, probably more often than we should. I remember reading about how she was one of the first reporters in Latveria after Dyne took over. She and Jimmy, black like in "Supergirl" here, actually managed to sneak past castle security and get a picture of Dyne in armor. To date the only time an unenhanced human has done that on record. She's i
ndisputedly the best reporter in the world. And considering the competition is her fiance, that's saying something.
A few minutes later, she comes back out and slumps into the chair next to me.
"They got the bullets out. Now they're just trying to stop the bleeding. They say he'll have scars forever, but… I guess if this stuff took away his strength they might be
right."
I look at her. She's handling this
really well. "Not forever. Only
gold Kryptonite does that. This was just the green stuff, garden variety. He'll be back out and risking his ass again in a week, at most. Don't worry about it."
What a
stupid thing to say. Don't worry about it? Her fiance is in the operating room for probably the first time in his
life, relatively crippled by sickness, and I'm telling her not to
worry? I might as well tell her to take over his hobby for him in the meantime.
I add, "And hey... Who's gonna believe he's who he is
now? All he has to say to reject any accusations is 'Hey. Remember that time I got shot?'"
She laughs, briefly. "Thanks. I'm glad someone's seeing the plus side to all this. Even if it is the worst day of your life."
I correct her, "
One of the worst.
Not the worst, unfortunately. Try losing your whole life, all your friends, family... everything... all overnight. Wake up the next day with a hangover… and at first I didn't even know anything was wrong. I thought we'd taken the wrong train…"
Fuck. This is supposed to be
her worst day, and I just dumped a big pile on her.
She looks back at me and says, "Well sounds like you and he might have something in common."
Amelia Hamilton: Interlude
I suture the last incision after my assistant is finished clearing the blood out. We wait a few heartbeats and then the whole team decompresses.
"Patient stabilized at 18:38, 12th of July. Both foreign objects successfully removed with minimal collateral." Despite a lot of his organs being in the wrong place. I'm going to spend
weeks studying his x-rays. That was one of the most stressful operations of my life. Who keeps their liver that far up? It's a miracle that man is even alive. Then again, if he weren't a freak of nature one of those bullets would've gone through his heart.
I look down at him, on the table. When he first came into my operating room, his face was crusted over with his own blood. Now, after he's been cleaned off, his glasses gone, I can see it clearly.
And the penny drops.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we just saved Superman."
My team looks at him again, and they see it too. Susan gasps. Leland looks like he might faint.
I hurry my way out of the OR. My team can handle the rest of the cleanup. I need to talk to Ms. Lane. As soon as I enter the waiting room Ms. Lane springs to her feet, along with the other one, the witness.
I speak to Ms. Lane, "Your fiance is going to be fine. But, there's something I have to talk to you about in private."
Both of the women freeze up for a moment, and I suspect we all know what I want to talk about. Ms. Lane nods, "Yeah, sure. Lead the way."
Once we're in my office I close the door and set all three locks, then the blinds.
I take a breath. She
probably knows. But, if she somehow doesn't, she has a right to. She's his fiance. He shouldn't keep anything that big a secret.
"Did you know your fiance is Superman?"
She does a lousy job of denying it, "Wha'do you mean?"
"I mean his ribs are too thin, his skin is too thick, his liver is closer to his heart than to where it should be, he'd healed the wounds shut by the time we got him into the OR, and I saw him naked. Those muscles are hard to mistake once you make the connection. He doesn't exactly hide them with that costume." She opens her mouth for another lie, but I continue, "And since you're covering for him I'm assuming you did know. So I'm going to revise my question. Who is he really, behind the mask? Clark Kent? Or Superman?"
She stays speechless for a second before answering, "It's not as simple as that. He's both. And neither. Superman is who he wants to be. Clark is who he needs to be."
"So whenever you two write an article, it's because he spends hours every day at an office when he could be out saving people."
She gives a wicked sneer, "You're a smart women. I think you know it doesn't work like that. There's a reason he rarely works outside Metropolis. If he stretches himself too thin he's no use to anyone when the real disasters strike. And if he spends too much time in blue, he might just lose sight of what made him put on the cape to begin with. And since you suck at asking questions, let me give
you one instead. What are you going to do now that you've figured it out?"
I shake my head, "I'm just trying to figure out what kind of a man I just saved. If he even
is a man."
She folds her arms, "Most would call him a hero."
"Exactly. Is he a hero or a man? Or a god?"
"He's not a god."
I laugh, "Under what definition? The Greeks would call him one, no question. But I guess he's not Greek. He's not even from our planet!"
She cracks into a smile, "Maybe not. But he works there daily."
Okay. I'll admit that was clever. And I walked right into it.
She continues, "He's
not human. But he's not a god. He doesn't consider himself a hero. He thinks of himself as just another man. In all the years I've known the guy, he's never given me reason to doubt that belief. Otherwise I wouldn't be marrying the oaf. I fell in love with the glasses, not the cape."
That's right. I almost lost track of how
hilariously bias she is as a source. "You fell in love with an alien. A really convincingly human alien, but still an alien."
"That's funny, I didn't take you for a
racist. Because that's what this is. Racism. If it acts like a hero and thinks like a man, what does it matter if he can fly? He was raised in Kansas, for christ sake! What do you want?"
"I want to understand. Why would the most powerful man in the world want to work a desk job? Half the country would
kill to be Superman, and the man himself spends all his time trying to be like
them?"
She leans back against a wall, "He's sentimental."
We stand in silence for a while. I know what she's saying. Figuratively speaking, biology aside, he's only human. He's not a demon or a god. Just an alien. Like the Spanish conquistadors that came from across the sea and first showed the Americas the power of firearms. Flawed, but ultimately not evil. And definitely not divine.
"I'm not going to go public. If he got hurt this time, it might happen again. And he might need someone to patch him up, especially in his line of work."
She crosses her arms, "Not that I'm not grateful, but what's in it for you?"
"I happen to become an ally of the second most powerful person on the planet. He'll owe me one."
She nods, "Protection, favors. Smart. Also extortion. I can't speak on his behalf, but the others who've tried to find out haven't ended up better off."
I shake my head, "I'm not threatening anything. I'm offering a service. A trade. Superman needs a doctor. I see a benefit in giving him one. It's not about his identity at all. I
know. I see no reason to tell anyone else. That's not changing either way."
"You're a very practical person."
I shrug, "I do my best. I'm a scientist. It comes with the field."
Another pause, where we just try and stare each other down. She's not budging, and neither am I.
I ask, "So do we have a deal?"
-|-|-
It's been half an hour since Amelia Hamilton pulled Lois away to talk. I finally figured out why her name is familiar. Hamilton was that old guy in the animated series who cloned Supergirl for Cadmus. So I'm guessing she's either related, or a gender swap. Considering Kara
looks like her television version, and the treatment that show gave Brainiac, I'm guessing the second.
Which brings up a lot of questions about what exactly my influence
is on this world. If she is related to a canon character, the chances of it being coincidence are negligible. But, Superman only came here today because he took a bullet for
me, which would seem to suggest I just caused the meeting of two canon characters that should have happened anyway. So, was it going to happen later, or would it not even have happened without me? Until now I've assumed that my actions divert the timeline from the course of canon events. But now, that's not…
I'm overthinking it. I'm in a comicbook world. It's nonsensical comicbook temporal bullshit.
Lois and Hamilton round the corner. Hamilton comes over and says, "He's waking up. Do you want to see him?"
Well, I have no idea what they were talking about for half an hour. But I suspect I'm about to find out. I stand up, "Yeah, thanks."
We walk in a completely awkward silence into a recovery room where Clark Kent lies in a bed hooked up to all sorts of equipment. His head sluggishly flops over to face us and at the sight of his fiance a smile emerges.
Lois hurries straight over and kneels to be face to face. She runs a hand through his hair, "Hey, Smallville."
He closes his eyes at the feel of her hand, "Hey Lois." Then he looks over her shoulder at me, "Are you okay?"
Fuck you. No-one should be that nice, "Yeah, I'm fine. I should really be asking you that." I point with my head at Hamilton, "Or maybe I should be asking
her that."
He briefly tries to sit up, "I'm goo-" He winces and lies back again, "I've been better."
Lois kisses him, "And you will be better again. Xavier says you should have your strength back in a week or two, so you better do it by Monday. Got it?"
He looks between Lois, me, and Hamilton questioningly.
Lois bites her lip and steels herself to deliver the bad news, "Doctor Hamilton figured it out. She says she's not going to tell anyone, but... Two people in a day is pretty lousy luck." She gives a sad smile, "We had a pretty good thing there, for a while."
I step forward, "The secret isn't out yet. It's just... slightly less in."
Clark gives a short chuckle that descends into a
deathly cough. Ow. That doesn't sound good.
Someone bursts in behind me and I turn to hear what Ike has to say that's worth being seen by all these people, "Someone called the press. Reporters from pretty much every paper except the Planet have arrived asking to get a picture of Superman's wounds or a statement."
Hamilton frowns, "
Shit. I'll talk to my staff and see who blabbed."
Lois snaps at her, "Your staff knew and you didn't think to mention that?"
"I thought I'd have time to
talk to them before anyone talked to anyone else. Clearly, someone had other ideas."
I talk to Ike, "Can SHIELD cover this up? Discredit the tip? What exactly did they say? Did they say who Superman
is or just that he's here?"
He taps his foot nervously, "There aren't any other shooting victims here. We'd need to call in more agents, which would mean revealing his identity to all of them... It would still be difficult." He looks at Superman himself, "We'd need your approval."
Clark broods in thought for a second, "The alternative is
everyone finding out. I don't think I have much of a choice. Tell Fury we might need to renegotiate our agreement."
Ike nods and leaves the room, his hand moving up to his earpiece. His voice is muffled by the door on the way out.
Hamilton says to Clark, "I have to go find out who talked. Maybe I can help Xavier's friend keep things quiet. We'll talk later." He nods and she follows Ike out.
The three of us sit in silence for a few seconds.
Lois asks her fiance, "If this is the end of the secret, the end of Superman, what'll we do?"
He shakes his head, "Move to the Fortress full time. I couldn't protect you here. Let's just hope SHIELD knows what they're doing." He cough-laughs again, "For the first time... I don't think there's anything I can do."
I guess the feeling's going around.
I answer, "SHIELD is good at coverups. Ever heard of Ant-Man?"
They both stare blankly at me. Clark says, "The Cold War urban legend? I thought he was just a myth. You mean there really
was an Ant-Man?"
I give a coy smile and say nothing.
Lois nods back, "Point taken."
I look back to Clark, "Look, Clark… Kal… I'm sorry about all this. I didn't mean for anyone to-"
He interrupts me, "It's alright, Xavier. It's not your fault."
"But it
is, though! If I hadn't come to check on you you wouldn't have gotten shot. No bullet means no doctor means no press and no coverup. Everything comes back to
me being careless. I have too many powerful enemies to make stupid mistakes like that."
He shakes his head, "You were trying to save me. You couldn't have known how things would turn out."
I raise an eyebrow, "Is that what you tell yourself? When things go sour?"
He laughs again, and manages for a few moments this time before the cough takes over, "No. I try to do better the next time."
"So who the hell am I to not take
Superman's example. Next time. Maybe if we're lucky there won't even be a next time." Fuck that. My luck, next time will be tomorrow.
He looks sadly down at the floor, "I never asked for anyone to use me as an example. I'm just a kid from Kansas trying to do the right thing."
I playfully add, "A kid from Kansas who can bench press a truck, on a good day at least."
He leans back and coughs again, "Yeah, well… Sometimes I think I just don't know when to quit."
-|-|-
I stand on one side of a makeshift barricade made of gurneys and cabinets near the main entrance to the hospital. The constant flash of cameras is almost equal to the cacophony of questions directed at no-one in particular. A line of police, or maybe agents in disguise, I'm not sure, hold the barricade. Some lucky reporter finds a crawlspace through the line and makes a break down the hall, only to get tackled by one of the medical staff.
This is chaos. This is
my chaos. The reaping of everything I've done in the past two weeks. And I can't do a damn thing more.
Everyone in the hospital staff knows who Superman is, now. Doesn't take a genius if you saw Clark go in. If these cops are real, they probably know too.
SHIELD is handling the coverup. I've seen a few of the "cops" confiscating cameras, or even sometimes just smashing them. Clark fell back unconscious a few minutes ago. Lois is with him, keeping her head down and away from the cameras.
Oh look. That's James Olsen. I guess the Planet has someone here after all.
I'm trying to think of all the ways this could get worse. I mean, ever since I got this assignment it's done nothing but. No reason to think it'll stop now. Mandarin could show up. Or Luthor. Or Dyne himself. God this is a mess.
Another reporter breaks through the line and I deck them. Thank you, Mike.
Ike comes up to me, "A word." I follow him into a nearby office, where he immediately closes the shades. "In light of the newfound openness of information, A new head of op has been assigned."
I raise an eyebrow, "You?"
"I am not at liberty to disclose-"
"Oh come on, Ike! So that's it. I'm cut out of my own mission."
He isn't making eye contact, "You succeeded your mission. You discovered the condition and whereabouts of Superman."
"Exposing his identity to probably dozens of people in the process. Not to mention nearly getting him killed. This is
my mess."
Now he does look at me, "That doesn't mean you're the best choice to clean it up." Well fuck. He's got a point there. "You have no experience with coverups, no clearance to alter records or negotiate with witnesses, and no authority to command other agents. This isn't your op anymore. Let it go."
We both take a moment.
He continues, "I won't pretend it's ideal. I'd like to let you help. But you're good for two things: Fire, and information. We have all the information we need, and there's nothing to burn."
Well there's an idea... "What if there were?"
He crosses his arms, "...I'm listening."
"People think Superman is here. What if it turned out to be some other 'Special' person instead? Could that satiate the press?"
The cogs are turning, "You mean-"
"I mean what if I'd been shot on that rooftop instead, and some poor staffer got excited when a fire started in the OR." Not that I'm looking forward to getting shot, but, any way I can help... "Ike, be honest. Have you really never fantasized about shooting me in the back before?"
He smiles. A smile! I made Ike smile! I feel accomplished, "It's too thin. You don't exactly look like Superman. Besides, they've already seen you uninjured." Shit. Didn't think of that. "I appreciate that you're trying to help. But you can't. You can wait with Lois for him to wake up again, or we can send you back to base. But you're off the op."
"Well, at least if I'm here I can keep an eye on him for you. Let you know if he dies or anything."
He smiles again! This must be a good day for him. "Thank you."
So I walk back to Clark's room. Lois turns when the door opens and gives me the closest thing to a smile that I think she's capable of mustering right now. I take a chair in the corner and lean back, closing my eyes for a bit.
I've been under stress before. But at least it was busy stress. This is just exhausting, the duration of the whole thing. Maybe a nap would do me some good.
I hear a big crash right in front of me.
I open one eye, and see James Olsen on the floor covered in busted ceiling tiles. A glance up confirms the large hole that he just fell through.
He stands, dusting himself off, "Sorry Lois. How did you get in here? Are you after the Superman tip too? It can't be true, I mean, a bullet? We've both seen him take those be…" He sees Clark in bed, "...fore…"
He looks back at Lois, and back at Clark. And back at Lois. And back again, at Clark.
"Huh."
There's an awkward pause while everyone appraises the situation.
James tells Lois, "So, you knew."
She confirms, "Yeah. I've known for a while now." She indicates me, "She knows too, so no need to be coy."
He nods, "I thought you might, but I never wanted to push. But, Clark."
She smiles, "Everything makes a little more sense now, huh?"
"Yeah. You could say that. I always wondered why he never joined you for your Superman interviews."
I feel like I'm interrupting something. Even though I've been here longer than James. This is an important life event for him, and Clark. Shame Clark isn't awake for it.
But, since I am here... I stand and hold out my hand, "Xavier Bronze. I'm familiar with your work, Mister Olsen."
He shakes my hand with a smile, "Always nice to meet a fan. How did you meet… Clark?"
"Earlier today. I was looking for him since he'd been gone for so long, and he wound up taking a bullet for me. I... have powerful enemies."
"Powerful enough to hurt Supe- ...Clark with bullets? How did you know where to look for him, anyway?"
I scratch the back of my head, "That's classified. But it wasn't the bullet that made him vulnerable. Or my enemies, for that matter. He's been sick because of radiation poisoning."
He crosses his arms with a stern expression, "Classified."
Going over all these details again and again is getting pretty old.
Lois answers him for me, "She's SHIELD. You know, the people who confiscated our footage from that subway tunnel."
He nods, "Government. So he hasn't kept his secret from everyone."
"SHIELD doesn't know. I do. They sent me specifically because of it, but I haven't reported his identity to them. I've been ordered not to, actually."
Lois frowns, "Well SHIELD knows
now. They're helping cover up the whole thing, thanks to Xavier." She nods at me, and I respond with an appreciative smile. At least I might come out of this with one or two more allies. It's nice to think of an up side.
Clark stirs and sluggishly opens his eyes. He sees James and turns to Lois.
Lois sums up, "Jimmy knows. We brought him up to speed."
Thank god
that didn't take long.
Clark waves, "Hey Jim."
He sighs, "I've told you both, I'm going by James now."
Well he's adjusting fast.
Clark looks apologetic, "Right, James. Sorry. Still getting used to that."
He shakes his head, "We've both got things to get used to now." He pauses, then, "When you destroyed that new costume I had made for you…"
"Yeah, sorry about that. The Trickster had used some nasty alien nanites to turn it into a bomb."
"And you didn't tell me because?..."
"He had my mom hostage."
I do everything I can to hold back a giggle. It's not funny... "Martha?"
He stays thankfully unaware of my amusement, looking at me with scrutiny, "You know some time you're gonna have to tell me how you know so much about me."
I sigh. Oh, what the fuck. We're already swimming in a shitstorm anyway, "I'm from another universe, where you and everyone here are fictional characters, in movies and tv shows based on comicbooks."
All three of them stare at me blankly for about a half second before Lois cracks up and near bends over laughing. She tries to stifle it and glances up, before bursting into another round. Jimmy looks over at her and gets a smile, before starting a chuckle of his own. Pretty soon he's laughing too, and Clark is looking between them and me with the kind of amused confused expression that only truly absurdist humor can get.
I hold back my own laughter, but a smile finds its way out anyway, "I'm not joking!" There comes the laughter, "It's the truth! I really am from another universe!" That's about the last coherent sentence I can get out before the infectious mood takes over my lungs and diaphragm, "Movies... And" Nope, not finishing that explanation until this dies down. If it dies down.
The whole oddity of my situation just hit me in a whole new light. It's scared me, it's stressed me out, it's even inspired me. But now, it's just so completely
absurd. I mean, really! I'm in a room with Superman and his two sidekicks! Bloody fucking
Superman! A fictional character!
The fictional character! My life is like a fucking knock-knock joke, and thanks to Lois I finally got the punchline.
But it does die down, given a few minutes. And Lois wipes the tears away from her eyes, "Another universe, eh?"
When did I sit down again? That's the hardest I've laughed… ever, actually. Wow, thanks Lois, "Yup. I call it Earth Prime. This here is Earth One. No idea how many more there are, but those are the two I've been too." Unless you count the Spirit World. Or the Bifrost. Or Jersey. "Thanks for that, Lois. I think I needed that."
Clark grins, "I think we all needed that."
Oh shit, "Hey Clark, your cough is gone. How do you feel?"
Lois and James turn to hear his response. He gets the Eureka look and looks himself over, "I actually feel fine.
Strong, even."
He takes out the IVs and removes sensors from various places so he can stand unhindered. Lois reaches to support him, but he indicates for her to let him try on his own power. And he stands, with a slight limp. And walks, and with each step the limp fades away.
Once he's crossed the room, he reaches for a metal crutch. And then he bends it, slowly, with strain. He sets it aside and closes his eyes. It looks like he's trying to clear his mind. I know that look from my own power training. He's trying to get into a mindset.
And then he rises. Just a few inches, but still. It's a very strange thing to see. There's nothing supporting him, and no signs of any kind of thrust. He just… floats. Like he's in water.
I smile, "See, Lois? I told you he'd be back up in no time."
-|-|-
Escaping the hospital without being seen was easy, once Clark got some of his powers back. X-rays telling us where the people to avoid were. Speed bursts to move short distances unseen. We got him some clothes, and he flew out a back-alley window, then circled back around to make an appearance in the crowd of reporters as Clark.
I loosen my shoulders and take a deep breath, sinking into an armchair in Clark's apartment. It's been a
long day. And it's not over yet. Fury's on his way to
personally renegotiate SHIELD's deal with Superman, now that they know who he is.
It's more complicated than that, though. Clark knows that they're willing to help him, which means at least for now they list him among the good guys. So he has leverage too. They both know the other, and they both know that they're on the same side. The old deal was made in the early years of Superman's career, when people were still hosting xenophobic marches in the streets. It's probably about time they sat down for another talk anyway, now that he's had a decade to prove himself.
Lois brings me some coffee, "You doing alright, P-Brane?"
I chuckle at the new nickname, "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks. How about Clark?"
She sits on the sofa across the coffee table from me. The same sofa Clark leaned against when I first met him.
God, was that really just earlier
today? My life has gotten a
lot faster since I moved Earths.
"We replaced his bandages and now he's prepping to meet the spymaster general. It was past time those two got together again anyway. Especially since Stark started parading around in that damn suit."
I nod, "How involved is he willing to get? We might be putting a team together next year. Stark's on the short list, but I have a few recommendations of my own I want to pitch to Fury while he's here."
"A team of foolhardy do-gooders leashed to the world's biggest conspiracy theorist wet dream come true?"
"I think I might be on the list too."
She smirks, "You'll have to ask
him, but I doubt he'd react well to the oversight. Governments haven't always liked him very much."
"The DEO?" That gets an eyebrow, "SHIELD isn't the DEO. You'd be surprised how little oversight there might be with SHIELD."
She shakes her head, "You can ask."
A knock on the door. Lois stands and walks over to answer it.
Nick Fucking Fury. Samuel L. Jackson with an eyepatch and a bad attitude. Finally good to meet the boss.
I shout, "Yo, Nick! How come I have to get a hero shot to be worth talking to?"
He walks right past Lois, not even pretending to think that she matters, "Xavier Bronze, the Clairvoyant."
I wince, "I keep asking to get that codename changed."
He is a commanding presence, "Coulson and Hill have told me
very interesting things. I've read every report. It's high past time we talked in person." He turns back to Lois, "Speaking of overdue conversations, where is the man of the hour?"
"Here."
Clark steps out in a very nice blue suit that, unlike most of his 'Clark' clothes, hugs his musculature
very pleasantly. Is that a Superman logo tie?
Oh. I look over the whole ensemble again. He's not wearing his glasses… It's a Superman formal suit. Red trim, pentagonal angles. I wonder when he had that made.
He stands tall across the room from Fury, "Director."
To their credit, neither man flinch. To hers, Lois looks right at home among titans. Myself, my instincts are telling me to bolt out the door. My survival instinct says this is too much power in one room at once.
Everyone stands silent for another second or two, and then Fury breaks the ice, "We help keep your secret, you don't interfere with our operations. Your side of the deal stays the same. Hell, I might even throw in some intel on what Lex does behind lead doors."
Clark is caught off guard.
Nick scoffs, "Don't look at me like that. SHIELD
likes the world, and you happen to be one of the best in the world at protecting it. We may prefer different methods, but it's hard to argue with your results."
He quickly recollects himself, "I can't help but notice that your agents never gave the Kryptonite statue back."
"Call it insurance. I make it a point of personal pride that no-one maintains power without accountability."
"Except you."
"I'm accountable. SHIELD isn't a dictatorship."
Right. The World Security Council. And Alexander Pierce.
I know how that worked out for them. Maybe it would be better if he
weren't accountable. Dictatorships worked in Rome for hundreds of years before it went bad.
Fury continues, "If we wanted you dead we had the perfect opportunity to make that a reality earlier today. We're on the same side."
Clark looks sceptical, "What side is that?"
"Homeworld security. Right now you're our first line of defense against full-scale alien invasion."
Lois asks, "Until you get your team together?"
Nick turns to glare at me, but it's not the "
You're dead" glare. It's the "
What the hell do you think you're doing?" glare.
I shrug back, "I was planning to ask why Clark wasn't being considered anyway. The Avengers is right up his alley."
He rolls his eye, obviously peeved, "Well since you bring it up."
Clark pushes, curious, "The Avengers?"
I answer, much to Fury's chagrin, "Earth's Mightiest Heroes type thing. You, Stark, the Hulk, and probably me, among others." I turn to Fury, "I have some recommendations by the way. John Constantine, Matt Murdock, Melinda May, Jessica Jones. Colonel Rhodes has his own Iron Man suit if you don't want to deal with Stark's ego, and who could blame you-"
"Shut. Up." I comply. "There is a civilian reporter in the room, Ms. Bronze. Whoever her spouse may be you will
not discuss confidential government operations with her present."
His sheer force of will gets me feeling kind of sheepish under the scrutiny, "Sorry."
Lois is grinning like a madman, "Maybe the solution is for the civilian reporter to leave the talking to the big boys." She gives Clark a kiss on the cheek, "I'll see you later. Tell me how it goes."
What follows is a long conversation that can ultimately be summed up as Clark and Fury repeatedly agreeing with each other while trying to maintain their collective masculinity.
It might be worth bringing Clark up at the next Order of the Phoenix meeting. If he knew, he might be able to… Do what? He couldn't do anything until Hydra outs itself in three years. There's no obvious face to punch or bomb to throw into space. That would be like asking him to solve political corruption. It's just not his domain. Hydra is a job for spies, not Supers.
Finally, Clark brings up the interesting part, "And about your team? If you want me to sign anything I'm gonna need to know what kinds of things you'd be sending us to do."
Fury takes a deep breath, "The Avengers Initiative is still in the planning stages. Ms. Bronze spoke
severely out of place."
I innocently admire the ceiling.
Clark pushes the issue, "But since I know anyway…"
"The Avengers was originally theorized as a response to you or one of your kind if we ever had a need for it."
"Gee, thanks."
Fury pretends not to have heard that, "Now that you've proven yourself an ally," And now that SHIELD has an alternative failsafe in the Kryptonite, "you're the first person we'll ask, should the time come that the project is activated."
"But, what would the average mission
look like? What kind of orders would we get? What limitations would be put on the actions we could take?"
"The Avengers Initiative is a Hail Mary, Mr. Kent. There is no average mission that would call for it."
Clark nods, "I still have a lot of questions, but if the situation is dire enough, you can count on me to be there."
Oh right, like if a big-ass portal opened up over New York and started spewing alien murderbots? Sometimes I wonder just how close to canon things would've gone without me here. I mean, Superman's gotta change
something about the Avengers, right? Or the Sokovia Accords? And if my suspicion is correct, Arrow couldn't possibly take place in a world with the Avengers in it, could it?
Well there's no point in worrying about that now. I'm here. Things are different.
Fury holds out his hand and Clark shakes it, "I appreciate that, Mr. Kent." He starts walking out, "Ms. Bronze."
I take that as a prompt to follow him. Man, Fury walks fast.
"Melinda May."
I look at him, "Sorry?"
"You suggested Melinda May for the Avengers. Why not Romanoff? Or Morse?"
Ah, "Romanoff is already on the list. Bobbi may be good, but May's
better. She can take down opponents so far outside her weight class it boggles the mind."
He nods, "And your other recommendations. Who are they?"
No reason to bring up Oliver or Kara. I don't know where Oliver is, and I might as well let Kara have a few more years peace before her life gets crazy.
"Well, sir, you know Rhodes. War Machine. In combat brings most of the same stuff to the table as Tony, and he's a
much better team player. Matt Murdock is a fighter on par with Romanoff who has superhuman senses. Jessica Jones is super strong. Not quite Hulk but probably stronger than
Rogers was. John Constantine is a magician."
He raises a skeptical eyebrow at me as we enter the elevator, "A magician?"
"Yup. Magic. It's real. Deal with it. The Avengers are likely to run into it sooner or later, so it's better if they have an expert on the scene, and Constantine's one of the best. Or at least most...
creative."
He takes a second to think of a response, "Constantine, Murdock, Jones. None of these people are on SHIELD's index."
"No, I didn't think they were."
"So you just
knew about them, just like you know who we're already considering."
"Pretty much. All from Earth Prime. Can I ask why you're still considering Tony instead of Rhodes? I know I keep bringing it up, but it seems like a pretty obvious switch, considering Romanoff's evaluation is spot-on." Ultron and the Civil War would've never happened with Rhodey.
He turns to me, "I don't believe we are anymore."
Ouch. Sorry, Tony. The elevator dings open on the bottom floor and we walk out, "Thank you for the recommendations, Ms. Bronze."
I hesitate to ask, "Can I ask another question, Director Fury?"
He stops and looks at me, "You can ask."
"Did Hill tell you-"
His hand jumps up his comms unit, "Make sure the truck is gassed when we get back. I don't want the next person who uses it getting stranded."
His message comes through loud and clear. This isn't a safe place to talk about that.
"You were saying?"
I instantly think of something else, "Am I being considered for the Avengers?"
He looks amused, and then walks on, "Like I said. You can ask."
There are good and bad parts to working with SHIELD. The almost bottomless resources are nice. The constant inscrutable answers and lack of information... not so much.
Nick moves us on to a new topic as we climb into a government issue black truck, "You were attacked by the Ten Rings this morning. Care to tell me why?"
So it
was the Ten Rings, "I think I made it pretty clear in my report, sir. I met a Ten Rings operative in the Spirit World. They asked me to steal something the Mandarin wants. I said I would, and then betrayed them to get back here."
"The Spirit World. Forgive me if I found that report a little hard to believe."
I chuckle, "Just wait until Star Labs gets up and running. You'll have to start believing in things a lot more far fetched than the Spirit World and magic."
"Very few things frighten me. We left one of them in that apartment up there. But when I read the things you've said about where this world is headed, and the kinds of threats we might have to face… It frightens me to think that you might be
right."
I smile, "Don't worry. At the front of every new frontier of crazy, there's usually someone willing to help who knows what they're doing."
"Why do I get the feeling you're talking about yourself?"
I freeze, "I… honestly didn't think of that until you just said it. I was talking about Stephen Strange, actually."
"The doctor?"
Damn it. I need to learn to shut my mouth more. I point at Fury warningly, "Leave him alone. He might become a valuable ally someday. But
only if you let his story play out like it's supposed to.
No interference. In fact it might be best if you not share that I said that name at all."
He nods briefly, "Consider it forgotten."
-|-|-
We didn't make it back to H.O.M.E., did we?
I try to shake the ringing out of my ears, but that only makes the blood rush to my head faster. I'm upside down. I think our car just ran over a landmine. I need to get out.
I unclasp my seatbelt, and fall down on my head against the roof of the car. Ow. At least it looks like Fury made it out. The others weren't as lucky. One agent has a large piece of shrapnel protruding from their skull. It's a really good thing I was riding in the back with Fury.
The door came off sometime during the crash, so I don't have to worry about getting it open. I crawl over to the opening.
A set of military boots appear next to my head. They're not SHIELD.
Landmine + non-SHIELD military equipment…
When I hear a rifle safety being clicked off I don't wait for whatever comes next. I fry them. Full-power blast. They're knocked back more than a meter and writhe in an attempt to put out the flames.
I wrest myself free from the wreckage as quickly as I can. Three more people in similar equipment raise their guns.
Fury comes right the fuck out of nowhere holding the loose car door, just in time to protect us both from the gunfire. Looks like SHIELD splurged to make even the windows bulletproof.
I raise my voice to be heard over the cacophony of war, "Ten Rings!"
Fury nods, taking a few potshots with his sidearm from around the side of our makeshift shield. One of them actually hits, but doesn't get through their body armor.
We start advancing as carefully as we can. I look up through the window and see one of them pulling the pin on a- "Grenade!"
Fury waits for it to fly, and then rushes ahead to meet it. He angles the door upward and shield bashes the projectile, sending it right back to sender. That's two more soldiers down.
This man is a badass.
He hands me a pistol. I take it and disable the safety.
We're about three meters away from our assailant when the remaining gunman runs out of ammo. Fury stands and sprints toward him, throwing the car door. Very Rogers of you, Director. The door misses, but buys us the extra half second distraction I need to shoot him in the jaw. Took three shots, but hey. All those nights at the firing range weren't put to waste after all.
There's that little moment I've become all too familiar with, once the immediate threat is gone and I try to deal with what just happened. I
smell my first kill behind me, and hear the flames. Doesn't bother me, particularly. They were Ten Rings. Terrorists. And they were trying to kill me. Any court on earth would rule in my favor. But I remember how sacred all life was to Alex, and there's a ping of guilt, as if I owe something to him.
No, there's no telling if I'll ever even see him again. I need to live for me. And in this world that means killing sometimes.
Fury empties two more rounds into each fallen soldier. Then he returns his attention to me, "Are you alright?"
I'm panting, mostly because of the stress, "Yeah. Not my first assassination attempt today. I've just never
killed anyone before."
He nods solemnly. He puts his hand to his comms unit, "This is Director Fury requesting immediate evac. We have multiple negative hostiles. Possible reinforcements on the way."
Only about twenty seconds later I hear a helicopter approaching.
When it lands the first person out is Ike. He runs over and leads me back to the copter, "The Ten Rings won't get you. Not as long as you're with SHIELD."
"I know. Thanks, Ike."
A few minutes into the journey I see another helicopter in the distance, barely a speck. And then it explodes, with a sonic boom heralding the jet that shot it down.
They must
really want me dead. At this point I'm starting to wonder why the Mandarin himself hasn't just done the deed already. It's obviously important to him. I mean, I'm glad he hasn't shown up, obviously. But this is war with
SHIELD, over one person. Why would they risk it?
I guess I did cost them one of the Makluan Rings. That's kinda a big deal, to them. To him. Which again begs the question why he hasn't done anything
himself. But I guess I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Except this is one fucking suspicious horse.
We finally touch down at an airstrip, and the agents funnel me and Ike straight from the helicopter onto a jet. Fury goes off somewhere else. The jet takes off and I'm back in that confusing state of stressful boredom. For all I know I could die at any second. But it's been that way for
hours now. Hell, almost all day. I started this mission before business hours, and now it's getting dark.
Oh what the hell. If I die, I'll die just as easily if I'm asleep. Ike's here to keep me safe. I lean back and go to sleep.
When I wake up, I'm in a bed. A soft bed, with real pillows and a fucking duvet. I get up and exit the bedroom.
Ike's there, of course. So's Dike. This is the safehouse Daisy stayed in, in Agents of SHIELD. Wasn't all that safe for her though…
I acknowledge my bodyguards, "Hey."
They acknowledge me back. Ike looks like shit.
"Ike, have you slept?"
He fidgets, "Well, I-"
I point into the bedroom, "Go." He looks like he's about to protest, "
Now." Thankfully he doesn't fight the issue any more, and peacefully pushes past me to the bed.
Dike puts his hands up, "Don't look at me. 8 hours. Longer than you."
I look for a clock. 5:40 AM. I sigh and walk over to the coffee pot that Ike probably made sometime last night.
