---

Sam twisted in the air with his wings retracted as he swooped low, leveling out he extended his wings again. He felt his body try to continue going down towards the ground as he leveled off, pulling his head up he landed into a run and kick slamming his foot into the body of the A.I.M agent. So far this was the third lab he had hit with various members of the Avengers. A name that due to Miss America had stuck, apparently it was the popular choice throughout the multiverse. Other than that little tidbit though she had been reluctant to share details on these other Earths and what happened on them, the idea still struck him as somewhat absurd but apparently there was science that supported it so he had no alternative but to accept it. Not that he had enjoyed finding out about the science behind it, he still couldn't stomach Stark.

He tapped his earpiece "Red Wing counts five hostiles on the bottom floor, I've made my entry on the second. After that we're getting no readings due to some form of interference." The little flying companion made by Stark, he had to admit, was pretty useful. Able to see through it's camera on his goggles and the fact it was armed gave him an extra edge on the battlefield. "The level of security in this place-" He raised his wing to block a couple of shots from a guard who ran out of cover at him. Running forward he then pulled his gun out of his right hip holster and shot over the wing, several shots and his opponent stopped shooting, falling dead. "-makes me think they're hiding something important. My moneys on an enhanced, it's about time we ran into one of them. Especially with the amount they've been throwing at Hawkeye." He turned around, releasing another couple of shots from his pistol into another guard he walked up to a computer terminal.

Taking a quick scan of the room he lowered his wing and pulled out a pendrive, sticking it into the computer the S.H.I.E.L.D sign instantly appeared. If Starks program worked the way it was supposed to all the secure files this terminal had access too would be getting sent back to the helicarrier to be analyzed. "Drive is in place, just waiting for the upload." He hated this part, while he was assured that the program was incredibly fast he had been told by Stark (and other genius') that there was the limitation of physical media. That being so within a couple of minutes it was done and he yanked the drive out and placed it back in his pocket. "Upload complete, moving to the rendezvous at the first floor elevator. Let's see what A.I.M has to hide."

Moira MacTaggert

Moira sat, poring over her laptop computer. On it was a list of people, people with extraordinary abilities, about whom she had heard either on the news, through painstaking research, or through her many personal connections in high places. How do the X-Men do it?, she thought. She had crossed off several prominent public figures, as their abilities, she had discovered, came from technology or artificial enhancements. What she needed were mutants.
She had finally cut the list down to six possibilities. Of the six, only one had been seen in New York City, and his existence was the most certain of them anyways, with his several TV appearances. Her course of action was clear. She had to contact the Archangel. But how? she thought. He wasn’t exactly in the phonebook, and she couldn’t very well publically announce that she wanted to see him.
Suddenly, something came to Moira. Why couldn’t I be public about this? It’s not like I’m not already thought of as a radical. Actually, she thought, there could be some serious benefits to Project X-Factor going public. She smiled. She would issue a press release the next day.

The briefing room was almost excessively sleek. Glass table, chrome pens, smooth grey walls, official looking office chairs and, of course, the extremely modern looking S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on the back wall. It's enough to make a man feel nervous, thought agent Smythe, dabbing at his brow with a handkerchief for the tenth time in the last few minutes. The air conditioning was extremely efficient, keeping the room pleasantly cool but waiting to give a briefing to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s notoriously abrasive director would make him sweat even if he were in the Arctic. Smythe checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes late he mused. It must be nice being so important that no matter who you keep waiting, they just have to accept it. Still, when the wellbeing of the free world hangs on your decisions, maybe you feel justified in taking a few extra minutes to make them.

CRASH

Behind Smythe, a door slammed open and several figures all in black strode into the room. Spinning around, he saw a trio of huge men in dark suits and dark glasses standing by the door. He guessed that they were actually scanning the room but he couldn't shake the suspicion they were actually glaring at him from under their sunglasses. The three were still and silent for a handful of seconds before one raised his hand and spoke into a concealed microphone.

"Room safe, Dome is clear for entry."

He slipped back into statue mode on one side of the door, while one of his companions moved to stand by the chair at the head of the table, the one in front of the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo and the third took up a position on the other side of the door. A tense minute or so later, the man himself swept into the room; Nick Fury. Tall and imposing in his signature black jacket, Fury cut an unmistakable figure. He walked across the room, dropped into the chair in front of the logo and looked at Smythe expectantly. Smythe leapt up to salute but was waived down by the Director.

"Stand easy. No, in fact, sit down."

Feeling almost admonished, Smythe sat and then slid his folder across the desk towards Fury. The man took it, flicked to the first page and glared at the words through his one visible eye. After a few moments he looked up at Smythe and barked.

"Says here the asset engaged A.I.M. forces at 0300 local time. I thought the plan was to go in during daylight, during the shift change to maximise the confusion of the asset's exit. Why the alteration?"

Smythe swallowed. "That was the plan, yessir. The plan changed."

---

"The plan's changed? Why?" scowled Brian Falsworth as he buckled on the iconic Union Jack helmet.

Smythe scowled back, not used to explaining himself to field agents. "I picked up some chatter between the guards on the hacked frequency. They said the weapons are being moved at the break of dawn so if we want to acquire them, we need to move now."

Falsworth, now standing in the cramped confines of the surveillance post and stretching the joints of his shoulder, gave a dry chuckle. "You mean if I'm going to acquire them, I had better move now, right?"

Smythe rolled his eyes. Give them a mask and a few enhanced abilities and they think they're Steve damned Rogers... "Fine, whatever makes you happy. Make the run through the woods, approach tower C unseen, remove the guard, enter the base without being detected, plant the explosives at the gate, acquire the vehicle the weapons are being transported in and then exit, using the explosives as a distraction."

"Yeah, yeah, I know the plan, this isn't my first day in the playground sir."

"Get out there and do it then!" said Smythe, his temper fraying slightly. Normally he had a bit more control but he'd now been awake for thirty two hours on surveillance, eaten but once in that time and only caught wind of why the plan needed to change by accident. He was in no mood to be cheeked by the agent he'd woken from sleep a mere five minutes earlier.

"Roger that, you should easily be able to hear my exit from here. I'll maintain radio silence unless there's an emergency." said agent Falsworth from behind his mask. Smythe couldn't be sure but he suspected the other agent was grinning underneath it. He shot a last withering glance at the younger man as he slipped out of the hatch on the bottom of the surveillance post. It was currently attached to the side of a mountain with suction pods and in stealth mode so even someone watching very carefully at precisely the right spot would only see a dark shape drop out of thin air.

With a sigh, agent Smythe slumped into the seat at the main observation screens and watched the thermal image of agent Falsworth close the ground between the post and the A.I.M. base at a prodigious speed. Even he had to admit that Union Jack's abilities were extremely impressive. They had to be, otherwise this mission would be being attempted by a full S.H.I.E.L.D. assault team rather than a single agent. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Soon, soon the mission will be over and I can have a hot bath. And eat food that wasn't microwaved. The red shape that was Falsworth on the screen reached the wall and leapt it in a single bound, swinging himself over the parapet and into tower C. Almost immediately, the other red shape in the tower went from standing up straight to lying flat on the floor and slowly cooling.

Good, guard neutralised with no alert showing on their frequency thought Smythe as he glanced at the time. 0300 exactly.

---

"Alright, you did what you had to do." noted Fury, moving on to the next page and scanning Smythe's hastily typed report. Now that the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was reading it, Smythe really wished he spent a bit more time making sure all the words were spelled correctly.

"So it all went wrong when the asset was acquiring the objective?"

"Yessir. As it says on page three, there was an unforeseen complication. There was another enhanced in the field, so to speak."

"Yup. Protocide."

"I..." for a couple of seconds, Smythe was speechless. How could he have known? He hasn't read it yet! Then it struck him; it's Nick fucking Fury, of course he knew. He knew when he sent us there, no wonder the orders were so vague about what the weapons actually were. He cleared his throat and said "Yessir, Protocide. The asset approached the objective's transportation vehicle and moved in to eliminate the guards..."

---

Union Jack slipped from shadow to shadow, moving through the base as quickly as he could without taking undue risks. According to his handler, Smythe, he had less than ten minutes before the guard's did their regular check up on each of the towers. He'd planted the explosives on the gate without being detected so now he just had to remove whoever was guarding the truck and drive it the hell out of here. Sounds almost too easy he thought as the vehicle came into sight. Three guards, each dressed in a uniform of muted yellow and wielding futuristic looking assault rifles. They'd probably be more threatening if they weren't also standing around at the back of the truck having a smoke and laughing between themselves. Moving like a panther, Union Jack crept closer and lay flat on the ground to scan the floor. No signs of feet on the other side, looks like just these three.

He drew a silenced pistol from his belt, took in a breath and released it as he squeezed off three sharp shots. All three A.I.M. soldiers dropped without making a sound. Holstering the gun, Union Jack moved swiftly to drag the bodies under the truck. As soon as the truck moved, they'd become visible but things would be in motion by then anyway and a few more bodies could hardly put the base on higher alert than an exploding front gate. With one more scan of the area, Brian took a step away from the truck's rear doors towards the cab. Home and dry he thought.

That was, of course, when the fourth man opened the truck's rear doors, looked for his colleagues, saw a man in an armed man in a blue mask and went for his gun. Instead of cursing his luck, Brian launched himself into the fourth guard and sent them both flying backwards into the truck. As they crashed into something, Union Jack disarmed the guard with practised ease before hammering his helmeted forehead into his opponent's face. The man went slack in his arms and Brian took a step back, letting him fall to the floor. Less than three seconds had passed since the truck doors had been opened but there was no time to waste. Brian went to step away but stopped. The man's fall revealed what they had smashed into. It was a icy case made of a strange looking dark metal, about the size of a man. It looked like the impact of Brian and the now unconscious A.I.M. operative did some damage to it. Coolant gas leaked from broken pipes and the glass plated front seemed to have almost completely caved in. And under the melting ice and cracked glass, he could just make out a human face.

It took a couple of seconds for Union Jack to realise that a man in a frozen box wasn't what he had been sent to acquire. All he had been told was that he was fetching weapons. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Every time, every time they feed me some rubbish and every time I believe them. Still, the mission goes on. Brian turned to make his escape before one of the many, many remaining guards spotted the truck's open doors and decided to come and have a look in. He only made it to the back of the vehicle when he heard the ice begin to crack. He only managed to turn around as the fist smashed through the surface and only managed to draw his pistol as a heavy set figure in a red uniform burst out of the container with a bestial snarl. Brian's reactions are sharper than any normal humans and his marksmanship is world class, drilled into him by hundreds of hours of training, hundreds of hours at the firing ranges and almost a decade of combat experience. But he still only got off two shots at the other guy's centre mass before he was sent flying out of the truck in almost the exact way he entered it a minute or so ago.

As they crashed into the dirt, Brian's mind raced a mile a moment. All thoughts of stealing the truck, blowing the gate and leaving left his head, replaced by the certain knowledge he was fighting someone just as fast, if not faster, than himself. This was do or die and Union Jack had no intention of dying on an A.I.M. base in the middle of [REDACTED], a long way from home. He swivelled his weight, bucked his hips and threw his opponent off of him, regaining his feet with all speed. As they faced off, agent Falsworth was able to get a good look at the damage his shots had done. He wouldn't be making anymore because his gun had gone flying in the collision so he'd have to hope those shots had made an impact. His counter part stood considerably taller than him and seemed to be built like a brick wall, with muscles on his muscles. He wore a tattered uniform of red with a white star on the chest, two small red holes near the centre of the star. Brian's shots, while sublimely accurate, didn't seem to have even registered with the frozen man. There was something else, too. He held a shield in one hand, a shield with a white star on a blue field and a handful of red and white stripes.


The moment of observation ended and the figure moved forward with all the grace of an avalanche. Unfortunately, he also moved with the force and speed of one. Brian was driven backwards, twisting out of the way of a stab with the pointed end of the shield, blocking a right jab with his forearm and absorbing several bone crunching body blows. His enemy had no finesse, no skill and made no move to protect himself but his speed and strength were simply too much of an advantage for Brian to find space to capitalise on his weaknesses. As he barely dodged out of the way of the sharp end of the shield, a kick threw him half a dozen metres and broke several of his ribs. He'd barely hit the ground before he had to start moving, however, as his foe was charging him down like a beast coming in for the kill. A big, angry beast with a pointy piece of metal in one hand. Union Jack struggled to his feet and did the only thing that made the only move that made sense; turned and ran.

---

"So he ran? Smart kid. Did he break radio silence?"

Smythe nodded emphatically. "Yessir, the second he decided to abort the mission, he let me know he'd be making an extremely loud exit."

"Let me guess; he blew the gate to make sure the objective and the opposition didn't try to follow him?"

"Sort of sir. The asset knew he couldn't outrun the objective so he used the gate to slow the objective down."

---

"Smythe, prep for evac because I'm coming out hot!"

Running with broken ribs is painful but not that difficult. Running with broken ribs while dodging fire from A.I.M. agents is very painful but not impossible. But running with broken ribs, dodging laser fire and trying to outrun someone faster and stronger than yourself is pushing impossible even for a super soldier. Brian ran, rolled over some crates and vaulted a small fence, forcibly ignoring the burning sensation in his chest and stabbing pains down his side. Behind him, he could hear his opponent following him, going through the obstacles Brian had avoided and taking down A.I.M. operatives rather than skirting round them. Even so, he was only about ten metres behind when the gate came into sight. At this moment, Union Jack's plan wasn't 100% fully formed but he knew he needed three things to happen; to get the frozen man between him and the gate, to blow the gate and to not get shot by anyone during the previous two steps. To that end, he snagged two smoke grenades from his belt and hurled them forwards to land in front of the gate. The thick smoke they produced contained particles of a material that interfered with infrared and x-ray images so A.I.M. would have a very hard time pinning him down inside that.

But as Brian gave the smoke time to form an actual cloud, a meaty arm closed around his throat and something stabbed into his side. Luckily, it wasn't the side already damaged by the kick but even so, the pointed end of the shield punched through his suit and slid between two of his ribs. He gave a strangled gasp of pain before training took over over. Brian brought his head back with a sharp snap in the same moment as ramming an elbow into the man holding him. With a twist, he managed to break free and made it into the smoke before his opponent grabbed him again. This time he was lifted by one hand at his throat and brought down into the mud with a wet splat. His enemy leaned down and glared into his masked face.

"Who in blazes are you, boy? And where in God's name am I?" he growled.

Brian didn't answer immediately and not just because he could feel blood leaking out of his side. He was trying to work out the angle between himself and the gate. By his reckoning, the man on top of him should be shielding him pretty well from the detonation point of the gate's explosives. Not perfectly but he didn't feel like he had many options left. He carefully moved his hand down to his belt and the remote detonator as he stared back into the other man's bloodshot eyes.

"I'm Union Jack, arsehole. And tell me, can your mother sew?" spat Union Jack and stabbed his finger down on the detonator.

The heat was intense and the shock wave plucked the giant off of Brian's chest and hurled him across the yard. In contrast, Brian barely suffered at all. He was a tad scorched, disorientated by the shockwave and sound but mostly unharmed. At least, no more harmed than before the detonation. As he stumbled to his feet, he could hear A.I.M. agents screaming at each other, the base's alarm klaxons wailing and the sound of bits of the border wall falling down. Limping out of the base, towards agent Smythe and blessed extraction, he looked back over his shoulder to the form of the man in red. Even after the force of the explosion, he already seemed to be stirring.

"Tell her stitch that one for you, pal. I reckon we'll meet again." Brian groaned out before turning in the surveillance pod's direction and starting to run. It hurt like hell even to breathe but he didn't fancy hanging around here while his opponent regained his feet and got ready to resume where they'd left off. In the distance, Smythe was already warming up the extraction vehicle.

---

Fury's fingers drummed a rapid beat on the surface of the table. "Alright, sounds like the asset made the right call. How is he?"

Smythe pushed another file across the table. "The second we got back to base, he received a medical diagnosis; cracked ribs, stab wound to one side, second degree burns on one side. They doped him up on pain killers and got to work. But he heals at a very fast rate so he should be ready for another operation within a week."

Stroking his beard with one finger, the Director nodded. "Good. And then you were given the dossier on the objective, Protocide?"

"Yessir, I read it on the way here."

"Okay, good. You should know that you and the asset did the best job you could have done in the situation, these things happen. Tell the asset that the job isn't done then get yourself back to your post."

Smythe's heart sank. He'd hoped that he would be accompanying Union Jack on the inevitable follow up mission but it seemed he'd be dropped back into the normal rotation. "Yessir, thank you sir. Can I ask what you plan to do about Protocide?"

"If you read his file, you know where he came from. And if you know anything, you know who else came from the same place."

"Yessir."

"The asset will want to give it another go and you-know-who will want in. This is personal for him. I intend, agent Smythe, to give them both what they want..."



"Sam Wilson? I'm agent Brian Falsworth, pleasure to meet you. I've been assigned to your OP by the cyclops himself and I come ready briefed. I'll see you at the first floor elevator, alright mate?"



With a smooth hiss, the elevator doors slid open.

"Told you so, Agent Falsworth in position."

"Dr. Zhoria, if there is ever anything you need, allow me to --" began Fisk, his eyes much softer than usual, his gaze cushioned by gratitude.

"-- Mr. Fisk, I don't need your charity as you know very well," interrupted the doctor.

Dr. Zhoria was an aging man with a scraggly white beard, and balding head. His teeth were yellowed and crooked and his hair was disheveled. He was rather lanky for his height of 5"8, and in spite of how Fisk towered over him, Zhoria stood unflinching, looking the hulk of a man straight in the eyes.

The two sat in a plain and white doctor's room, the decor of the room dull and simple. Wilson Fisk stood across from the doctor, with the doctor across from him holding a clipboard with his wife Vanessa's results. They had come out negative on any symptoms, meaning Dr. Zhoria had done his work; it seemed almost like he was a miracle sent to Fisk from the heavens. It had been a month since this man had somehow saved his wife, and Fisk still did not know how he had done it. That was fine with Fisk, he was just glad to not be in constant anxiety and fear over what would happen to the love of his life. The symptoms were still testing back negative, and that meant that she was in full remission; for this, Fisk was in great gratitude to the doctor.

"Doctor, I am not trying to give you charity. I just wish to show you my deep gratitude for all you have done for me and my Vanessa," pleaded Fisk.

"Mr. Fisk, you are a man who never wants anything handed to you, and I recognize that. I myself am very similar to you in that way, so perhaps you could recognize as well, that you do note owe me anything, Mr. Fisk."

Fisk stuttered, but understood that the Doctor was stubborn, and just nodded solemnly. He put his hand on Dr. Zhoria's shoulders, looked directly into his eyes, "Thank you Doctor, thank you," he said very firmly.

"Think nothing of it Mr. Fisk, honestly," Dr. Zohria replied.

---

Wilson and his business partner Wah Chang sat in a busy Chinese restaurant; the locale was extremely crowded, with waiters bustling back and forth and loud chatter permeated the building. The place served Chinese comfort food, and was recommended to Fisk by his bodyguard James. The man across from him, Wah Chang, was a leader of the Broken Tooth Koi triad, a very powerful Chinese gang. Wah Chang had requested to meet with Fisk in order to discuss possibilities of expansions into America. Fisk eagerly obliged, recognizing this opportunity to add powerful allies to his toolkit.

"断了的牙齿锦鲤将是你必须提供，菲斯克先生什么很感兴趣..."
_{"The Broken Tooth Koi would be very interested in what you have to offer, Mr. Fisk."}

Fisk, a man of many tongues, recognized the Cantonese dialect, and responded with some Chinese of his own saying, "是的，张先生，我们为好，会迷恋有你." _{"Yes, Mr. Chang, and we as well, would be enamored to have you."}

Chang nodded in approval at Fisk's clear consummate ability in the foreign language, and began again in English this time, his accent rather apparent, "Your willingness to meet me here in such a public place shows to me you have great confidence Mr. Fisk."

"Meeting the public eye is an acquired taste. Now, allow us to drop these pleasantries, allow us to get right into this," said Fisk, not wasting any time. Upon seeing Chang nodding, Fisk continued, "The Belcastros, the Irish Mob, the Cartel... they've all seemingly infested what was once my... my kingdom, if you will. However, as you've probably heard, Mr. Chang, the King is returning, and I will not tolerate these brigands. As you may have heard, I have already made way with the Belcastros, and I've got my eyes on the Irish Mob next. You have a choice in front of you, Mr. Chang, and my question for you is whether you will choose the correct side."

"It seems to me there is only one correct choice."

"Good," Fisk curtly. Fisk extended his hand in welcome to the leader of the Broken Tooth Koi, and Mr. Wah Chang promptly shook it.

It hadn’t taken long for America Chavez to reach the edge of the Earth’s orbit, with the teenager coming to a steady halt just a short distance from the International Space Station. Her speed had increased tremendously this past month, along with the rest of her superhuman abilities. Weeks of intense training had done the job; pushing America to the extremes.

All because of that damned original training session with the Avengers. Hyperion had absolutely destroyed them; with the titan of a man simply squatting the team away as if they were just a bunch of annoying fleas. It had been embarrassing. Embarrassing enough to act as the motivation that America needed to improve.

Now she was finally ready.

Glancing around, her eyes caught hold of her target. It was a fair distance away, barely noticeable unless you knew what you look for. It was a fault. A fault right through space itself. Numerous faults like this one had been detected all over the globe over the past couple of days; the locations of which having been quarantined by S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. Given that this one wasn’t exactly on the planet, it would seem that America would be the best option of dealing with it. Especially considering dimensional holes were her speciality.

Her dimensional abilities was something else that she had improved during her time working alongside S.H.I.E.L.D. Rubbing her hands together, Ms. America got to work. She kicked her foot out violently, striking the emptiness of space in front of her. Upon realizing that nothing had happened, America simply frowned, before muttering a set of profanities to herself. She repeated the acting, thrusting her foot forward, until finally after several powerful kicks, her foot finally seemed to impact with something.

At once the spot beneath her feet came alive with a white blinding light, which radiated loudly through space’s darkness. As the light died down, the whiteness took the shape of a perfect star.. America flashed a smile as she glanced back up towards her destination, bringing her right foot back up as she did so. With one last powerful kick, she stamped downwards, her foot shattering the star beneath her. She feel forward through the hole she had created, and in doing so, the whole world seemed to twist and contort around her. Until finally it stopped, with America finding herself in a completely different spot. She knew where she was before she even turned to look. The fault was radiating the same light and energy as her portals.

Turning, she was shocked to see how large it was. While most of the ones discovered on Earth had been nothing more than a metre or two long, this one was much bigger; probably the size of a lorry. What more was that unlike the Earthbound faults, it would seem that this one was open slightly, hence the great admittance of light. That honestly wouldn’t have been too bad, if it weren’t for the silhouettes that could be seen within. Something was coming out.

Ms. America braced herself as her view was invaded by a swarm of small green insectoid looking creatures, as they bit and clawed their way out of the fault.

“Ay dios!" She swore aloud.

This was about to get interesting.

“So, um, I’m here to see Mary Jane Watson.” The receptionist sitting at the front desk gave Peter a weird glare, as if she did not think that a nerdy kid like Peter did not belong in the Yellowjacket fashion firm. Peter even thought that the receptionist was going to ask him if he had an appointment. However, he was saved by the bell when a certain redhead showed up.

“Tiger, what a surprise. You’re early.”

“What? When have I ever been late?” Mary Jane just rolled her eyes at Peter’s comment, knowing that Peter was truly was chronically late all the time. However, usually Peter would run into some sort of nutjob villain trying to complete some harebrained scheme. And even though a lot of the villains that he has run were pretty much pushovers, it still takes time to subdue them. Peter was just fortunate that no one had decided to try something on his way here.

“Let’s take a little tour of the place, Tiger.” MJ grabbed Peter’s arm and dragged him along with her. Early on in the tour, the two teenagers passed by the office of Janet van Dyne, the creative mind behind the success of Yellowjacket. For a moment, MJ hesitated, not knowing whether she should bother Mrs. van Dyne. However, he decided that it would not have been a complete tour without Peter meeting the fashion mastermind.

“This is the office of the owner of Yellowjacket and my mentor, Mrs. Janet van Dyne.” MJ pulled Peter into the office as she introduced her boss.

“Wait, you mean that you work for Doctor Henry Pym’s ex-wife? He has written some very groundbreaking papers and studies. I probably would place him among some of my favorite scientists and academics. No offense, meant though.” Peter threw in that last comment because he also knew that she was Hank Pym’s ex and he didn’t want to sound too insensitive.

“No offense taken.” Janet brushed off Peter’s nerding out over Hank Pym’s academic work. “We’ve been on rather amicable terms as of late. Sure, he can be a hardhead, but at least he can admit to his mistakes.”

“And the bigger question is how does MJ know you, besides the obvious answer that she works for you?”

“Oh, my mom was actually an up and coming actress herself during the prime of her life. Even after she left the stage and cameras to raise a family, she still had some connects left. Therefore here I am.” Mary Jane responded to Peter’s question.

“Oh, my apologies.” Peter suddenly said after he realized that he had only asked about them and not told MJ’s employer anything about himself. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m…”

“Don’t worry about it. Mary Jane already filled me in. How else do you think she would get away with bringing her boyfriend to work and showing him around?”

Before Peter could think of other reasons why MJ could get away with this little ‘tour’, there suddenly was a commotion in the front lobby. After Janet van Dyne checked the security footage on her personal computer in her office, she discovered that a man wearing something similar to, although not identical to, the Ant-Man suit, although it had a purple color scheme and it was obviously a homemade knock-off. In response, the owner of Yellowjacket sent a silent signal to her employees to calmly evacuate the building. Then she used her computer to tint the windows so that, once this intruder has come up to their current floor, he would not immediately see them.

“Alright kids. Here’s the plan.” Janet calmly told Peter and MJ, “So, apparently some lunatic is looking for my ex-husband, here of all places.” She rolled her eyes as she finished speaking, indicating that she thought it was insane to look for Hank Pym Sr. in a place where he was not even employed.

“While I hoped this day would never come, I had Hank install these small, robotic wasps that can act as a temporary defence while proper authorities arrive. Therefore, while this lunatic is distracted, I want you two to sneak out.”

“But what about you?” MJ asked her mentor with a concern look on her face.

“Don’t worry about me. I have some tricks up my sleeve.” Janet pulled out her smartphone and sent a red alert to her son, hoping that he was not too busy being an Avenger. She then activated the defense mechanisms that she had just mentioned. The tiny mechanical insects began to swarm the intruder once they received their commands.

While this man was swatting at the small horde of robotic wasps, Peter and MJ took this opportunity to escape. However, the artificial bugs did to provide as long of a distraction as they had hoped because one of the functions that the man’s gun-like weapon had was producing a jet-stream of air, which blew away his assailants. When they were about ready to descend the first flight of stairs, the intruder caught sight of the two teenagers.

The man flipped a switch on his gun and aimed it at the two escaping teenagers. Peter’s spider-sense already had alerted him of the trouble, but he could not react without revealing his superhuman abilities. And even if he did not care about that, Peter would still be leaving Mary Jane out to dry. What type of boyfriend would that make him? A very bad one, that is.

However, Peter did not need his spider reflexes to dodge the man’s attack. Instead, he felt a push in the back, which caused him to tumble down the stairs. When he looked back up the stairs, Peter did not see his red haired girlfriend. A panic arose inside of Peter. He tried to calm himself by thinking that this was not something like Gwen’s death. He thought that she could not be dead. However, the footsteps that advanced towards the stairwell did not help his current state of mind. Therefore, he picked himself up and began to ran down the stairs. He did not do this out of fear, but rather of desperation. Peter needed to get outside where he could change into his Spider-Man alter ego without being spotted by the cameras within the building. Furthermore, it would help give proof that Peter Parker had exited the building.

While Sam and Brian were both busy inside of the base collecting whatever data they could on what AIM was planning. Iron Man got to take the admittedly much more fun route for this assignment. He had just finished the second mark of his Iron Man suit, and was itching to put it through its pacing. The kind of pacing that involved frantic gun fire, screaming agents, and what seemed like an incoming homing missile.

Hmm, better take care of that.

His flight path swooped down as his radar picked up on the missile. Spotting a grouping of AIM agents trying to come up with a way to get to Sam Wilson were caught off guard when Iron Man swung in dangerous close to them, quickly flew off, and the missile chasing him flew straight into the ground nearby. Causing them to get launched away in the blast.

All the while Tony Stark inside of the Iron Man suit hummed mindlessly to himself. His head deep into random this and that. Some new design concepts from the company he got earlier, what to get Rhodes for his birthday, little stuff. As he shoot lasers at a incoming missile and flew through the explosion. Finally he went back to the private coms link between the three of them.

“Sure thing Cap, I’m sure AOL Instant Messenger has something potent here since they’ve given me a whole crap ton of people to fend off out here.” Tony casually stated, betraying the real number. “Which speaking of, maybe pick up the pace a bit please? I’m having to fend off an army from going after you two.”

Since the first time Tony had met Sam his opinion on the guy hadn’t really changed much, Sam still talked down to him like he was the stupidest of the stupid. Tony though wanted to be on his best behavior, as much as it pained him to do so. Nick Fury had expressed interest in Tony maybe going from consultant to actual teammate when Tony demonstrated the Iron Man mark II to him. Originally as a proof of concept for some kind of automated defensive system. Which ended up turning into the ‘Red Wing’ mini drone system which Sam was currently using. Sure Tony wasn’t as physically gifted as Sam was, but Tony hoped doing this meant Sam saw that Tony’s strongest muscle was his mind. That and the hope Tony looked cooler by mission’s end than bird man Sam.

"Don't touch Lola." The engineer who had just walked onto the bus paused as his hand was centimeters away from the 1962 red corvette that sat in the garage area of the bus. Agent Phil Coulson wasn't even looking, standing on the balcony up to the main deck working on his tablet. He turned around to the tech with a stern glance, who raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture as he backed away slowly. He turned his attention back to the tablet, which currently held image of one of his oldest friends, Director Nicholas J Fury. He spoke into it as he walked through the plane heading for his office. "You know Sir, I'm still unsure on the team you sent on the latest Avengers mission. Stark may be a genius but is he not a little young for combat?"

Fury just leaned back in his chair, away from the camera. "It came down to Wilson needing someone there, you know how it is Cheese. They needed someone to deal with the technological aspect, Pyms away doing other things." Phil just chuckled.

"You realize there are other geniuses, right?" He put his fingerprint to the door scanner, the lock clicked as it released and he pushed the door open and closed it behind him. It was somewhat redundant to have a scanner on the door but he didn't trust a lot of the techs running around the Hub not to touch any of his antiques, it had taken him time to gather the collection he had. That was to say nothing of the Captain America trading cards. Not the modern ones based off Sam Wilson, but the original. While he had nothing against the current Captain America in his mind there would only ever be one.

"Yes, I know. So far on the scale we have Banner, who is a wanted criminal. Reed Richards who is nearly as experienced in this as Tony Stark and the Pyms. I agree with your theories that Spider-man may in fact be worthy of the list but even we haven't managed to get a fix on who he is yet and the Security Council hasn't deemed him worthy of being classed as a threat so we haven't been able to devote more manpower to finding out who he is yet."

"You realize maybe he is keeping his identity secret for a reason? He is one of the good guys." Phil sat down behind his desk, placing four hands on the screen he swiped to the left as the video transferred onto a screen on the far wall. "Which is why I recommended him to the initiative, I'll respect that Wilson rejected the idea." Fury sat forward, getting in a word before Phil could continue.

"Enough about the Avengers, have you picked your team yet? Don't make me assign one to you, I can give you anyone." Phil nodded and a look of relief washed across Fury's face, he could understand why. He hadn't exactly been quick in picking a team, Fury had had missions lined out for a team that wasn't even formed yet. Meant to be the friendly face of S.H.I.E.L.D in tough situations, a self sufficient unit fully mobile. Though until now the unit only consisted of one person. Though after reviewing the dossiers some more, he had finally come to a conclusion.

"For a start, I'm taking-"

Marc strode softly through the darkened halls of the Spector Innovations Building, fingers tracing along the newly refurbished walls. He’d bought up the old building in Queens, renovated the base structure, installed brand, new modern systems for ICT and small-scale manufacturing. The offices were ink black, except for the threads of white light streaming through some of the windows. Marc stepped into the manufacturing area. Only a number of hours ago, the place had been abuzz with vibrant activity.


A dozen people were clambering and rushing excitedly between stations, pointing to complex diagrams and lengthy equations, discussing complex ideas and concepts hurriedly while their eyes glanced over at “Mister Spector”. Marc chuckled to himself, not being able to get over the fact he was the Boss around here. Marc looked down at the manifesto, the list of new materials for all of the new entrant projects they were funding. He looked back up and found his Director of Operations standing just a foot from him, eyebrows raised over his hazel eyes. He was one of the few men in Marc’s circle who was able to stand face-to-face with him. Jean-Paul DuChamp’s jet black hair sat untidily on his head as he looked down at the manifesto and back to Marc.

The heavy twang of sarcasm dripped from Jean-Paul’s words, with a tiny smirk curling on his lips. The French accent was but a tiny hint in his voice, with years of foreign living and exotic travels muddying his dialect of English.


Marc raised his own eyebrow now. When Frenchie began spluttering French at him, he knew he’d struck a nerve.

Frenchie stared at Marc, stunned by his rousing speech, before cracking a smile and smacking Marc on the shoulder, ”Alright Marc, whatever you’ve got cooking up, just make sure it’s all legal. I like my job and don’t fancy taking over this whole fiesta.”
Frenchie walked over to one of the project leaders, shaking his head and chuckling. Marc smiled after him, calling after him, ”Don’t forget to try and get a meeting with Stark. I want his opinion on the new omni-directional drone. See if we can’t get a shared patent on this thing…”


Marc stepped onto the manufacturing floor, towards Hudson’s work area, flicking on his terminal, waiting for the Stark logo to disappear before bringing up the Projects folder and the schematics for the carbodium-infused thin weave Kevlar suits. Somewhere, in the back of Marc’s mind, a tiny Voice whispered to him,

Two years ago, Curt Connors, in an attempt to regrow his arm that he had long ago lost, created a serum that used reptile DNA, particularly that belonging to lizards. Although he was successful at growing his arm back, the serum had an unintended side effect. While under the influence of this lizard formula, the good doctor would morph into a giant man-lizard. Through the intervention of Spider-Man, along with an antidote for Connor’s serum, the Lizard was successfully reverted back into his regular human form.

However, even with this incident, research into this type of medical technology. Some saw the potential for curing countless diseases, while others could see an army of super-soldiers. Scientists at the University of Chicago were carrying out one such research. Headed by Doctor Joanne Tumolo, these University of Chicago researchers took precautions that were learned from the ‘Lizard Incident’. Their main concern was to find out a way to prevent the instincts of the donor DNA from overwriting the personality of the recipient of the treatment.

So far, Doctor Tumolo’s team of research assistants have only been testing their version of the serum on laboratory mice and only with the DNA of less dangerous animals, particularly herbivores so that they would not create some sort of dangerous predator that could wipe out the entire lab. From the recent tests, animal behavior, on average, seemed to not have been overwritten, as they were with the original Lizard formula. However, characteristics of the donor would manifest themselves in the test subject.

Greer Grant happened to be one of the research assistants who worked under Doctor Tumolo. However, Ms. Grant noticed that something fishy was going on ever since Doctor Tumolo began to accept a private grant from a certain Mr. Malcolm Donalbain. Then, on their benefactor’s request, the researchers added another member to their staff, Shirlee Bryant. Over the next couple weeks, Greer kept noticing that the inventory was not adding up. However, Greer did not have any evidence that could determine who was stealing inventory and research that had been conducted at the University of Chicago.

Or at least she did not have any proof until this one fateful day. When she had gone into the laboratory early on that day in order to get a head start on her daily research, Greer discovered that their recently hired assistant was the thief. Shirlee had been sneaking out research data, reports, and even serum samples ever since she had been hired. On that day, Greer caught Shirlee copying their recent findings from one of the lab computers onto a flash drive. Now that she had the proof, Greer intended to report this scientific theft.

However, Greer Grant never had the chance. Before she could leave, Shirlee grabbed whatever she could find within arm’s reach and smacked Greer in the back of the head, knocking her out cold. Now Shirlee had a dilemma on her hands. Even though she had knocked out her fellow lab assistant, Shirlee knew that Greer would eventually reveal the truth once she recovers from that blow to the head. Therefore, there was one option left: frame Greer as the thief. Not only did she plant evidence, such as paper files and a flash drive on and around Greer, but she also took several vials of experimental serum, made with tiger DNA, and injected the poor lab assistant with it. Even after minutes after she had injected Greer with the formula, Shirlee could already see the formula changing Greer. And to finish her cover-up, Shirlee made sure that she was nowhere to be found when the other researchers found Greer, who then appeared as if she lost consciousness from taking the tiger serum.

Probably the smartest of all supervillains are the ones who stay as far away from New York City. Logically speaking, why would anyone want to break the law in a city which has the highest vigilante to bank/ATM ratio in the country, if not the entire world. As soon as you have committed a crime, there surely would be some sort of caped crusader darting in your direction in order to dish out justice for your crimes.

The Scorpion thought he was one of the smart ones when he relocated away from New York City to Boston. Since he had already been embarrassed by a defeat handed to him by Spider-Man during his stay in New York, the Scorpion thought that this new scenery would be good for restoring his reputation, if he even had one to begin with. New turf comes with the necessity for learning the lay of the land. Proper preparation is needed in any city, even ones that have a deficiency of superhumans. It took Gargan almost a month to familiarize himself with his new environment. And now, he was ready to strike.

Donning a khaki trench coat over his green body suit that had a mechanical scorpion tail attached to it, Mac Gargan casually strolled into one of the local Boston banks. After he had made his way over towards the vault, the Scorpion then whipped off the trench coat that he was wearing and tossed it aside. Aiming his mechanical tail at the heavy-duty doors, the Scorpion began spraying it with a yellow-green acid. Once this acid substance made contact with the door, it began eating away at the metal obstacle that stood between him and the cold, hard cash.

When the vault door had been weakened enough by the Scorpion’s acid, the green-clad villain ripped off the door from its hinges and dropped it to the side. After he had pulled out a few bags, the Scorpion shoved as much cash as he could carry within those sacks. If the Scorpion had been in New York, any one of the various heroes who vowed to defend her streets would have already descended upon the Scorpion. However, he was no longer in New York and it felt like a pleasant surprise that the Scorpion was about ready to just waltz out of the bank without any superhuman (or vigilante) interference. Although the police would try to stop him, they would do so in vain.

While the Scorpion was making his escape, a red and black garbed heroine appeared at the exit, hovering in the air as she blocked his path.

“My name is Ms. Marvel and I order you to drop those bags and turn yourself into the authorities.”

The Scorpion just stood there with his mouth agape. He was so close, so close to making his big score. Of all the supervillains, why did it have to happen to him. Nevertheless, the Scorpion, despite his loses to Spider-Man, felt confident on his ability to get out of this situation.

“I’ve already been embarrassed by some Spider-Freak,” Mac Gargan barked at Ms. Marvel. “I’m not going allow some blonde bimbo make a monkey out of me!”

He then immediately aimed his tail at the flying superheroine and shot a spray of his acid at her. Since Ms. Marvel had never encountered, let alone fought, the Scorpion before, she had to react on her toes. As the liquid acid flew towards her, Ms. Marvel generated a yellow aura that surrounded her entire body. In addition, she threw up her arm to shield herself from the acid, just in case her aura did not stop it. While her protective aura did defend her from most of the acid, a little bit of it got threw, hitting both her glove and part of her torso that had not been shielded by her arm.

“My turn,” Ms. Marvel retorted with a smile. The blonde heroine darted down from where she had been hovering and slammed her fist into the Scorpion’s stomach, sending him flying into the air. However, before the villain could collide with anything, Ms. Marvel flew over to him and caught him. She then threw a second fist, whose glove had now been almost eaten away by the Scorpion’s acid, although her Kree-hybrid physiology granted greater immunity to it. As a result of that blow, the Scorpion crashed back down to the ground.

Ms. Marvel’s next target was disarming his tail. She took hold of the mechanical appendage and stomped her foot down on it. The impact of her foot severed the tail in two, making the weapon almost entirely useless. She then held up the Scorpion off the ground with that same now gloveless hand.

“Do you give up now?”

“I give! I give!” The Scorpion had now waved the white flag, showing that he had suffered enough of a beating for a day. “I knew I should have gone to Albuquerque!”

After his surrender, Ms. Marvel flew out the front doors of the bank, along with the Scorpion still in her grasp, and dropped him off with the police. Now that the Scorpion was with the proper authorities, Ms. Marvel then soared up into the air, flying out of sight of all of the bystanders and police officers alike.

---

Sam held his gun at the ready as the elevator door opened, nodding at Falsworth as he saw him and indicating for him to get into the elevator. The doors closed before it began to descend, he held up his hand to tap onto his comms. "Don't get cocky Stark, if you need it put in the call for backup. You need to make sure nobody leaves the facility, and that no-one enters making ou job a lot harder." He let go of the earpiece briefly as he turned to Falsworth. "I really needed someone that could fly, trust me, I tried to get Milton, Parrington or even Ms.America. I swear Fury is getting back at me for something, though I'm not entirely sure what." He tapped his earpiece again, re-opening communications to Stark.

"Try and remember, this is a serious mission. A.I.M is stepping up it's game recently, with it's ops in the Savage Land and an apparant super soldier, we need as much intel as we can get before they launch a major offensive and the best way to do that is to get them on the defensive. Now if your program is as good as you say it is, we're off to a winning start but in order to cover all the bases we need to go in and take a look around and what kind of hardware they're packing. You may have the gadgets but remember, these guys know what they're doing and on the most part know what they're doing." He lowered his hand from his earpiece cutting the transmission. As the elevator reached it's destination and the doors opened, Sam threw the shield to incapacitate two guards who had been standing watch. Walking out of the elevator he turned to Falsworth. "You know, somethings been bothering me. I thought in England they called it a lift?" He smirked before more men came running down the corridor, throwing his wing up in a makeshift shield he threw the actual shield down the corridor as he drew his gun.

Using the wing to cover his charge, he fired over it running straight at his foes. By the time he reached them they lay dead on the ground. He pointed down a corridor to his left. "You head down that way, I'll go straight on. R-V back here in ten."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think these blue skinned Atlantians thought I was an idiot. How could I miss the guy spying on me while I was testing the suit out of water..." Walt thought walking back into Hydrobase.

The twenty-something inventor hurried to a computer station and began checking several censors, cameras, and readings from several devices. While he was caught up in the study of the Atlantian, Walt failed to notice the Caucasian man with wings on his ankles who sneaked into Hydrobase while the oceanographer was testing his suit. Prince Namor crept into the computer lab where Walt had removed his Stingray mask. Walt wasn't paying attention to anything but the cameras and readings from outside of Hydrobase, had he been looking at the other cameras inside he wouldn't have been blindsided.

"You will not put my people under your microscopes, surface dweller!" Namor shouted, grabbing Walt and throwing him into some tech and tools at a work station on the other side of the large room.

"You don't have blue skin? Aaaand... you have tiny wings on your feet... Who else did I piss off?" Walt asked picking himself up out of the rubble and debris and putting his mask back on.

"I am Prince Namor of Atlantis!" Namor said taking to the air and pulling a trident weapon from a strap on his back.

"WHAT?!? You can fly too?!?" Stingray questioned blocking the trident thrown by the airborne Atlantian prince with his right fin.

"Keep out of my ocean, surface dweller..." Namor said sternly picking up some debris and throwing it at the would-be hero, "You do not want me to return..."

Walt was hit by the debris and didn't see the Atlantian escape. Picking himself up once again he thought...

"THIS has got to be one of the CRAZIEST days of my LIFE!" he yelled out loud.

~KL~

“You’re joking right? I’m Boomerang!”

“Still don’t know who you are, jackass!”

“Yeah? Well that’s dementia for y’, you twat.”

The old man’s remark sent a small surge of anger through Fred Myer’s body. Over a year he had been doing this, and yet still people had no clue who the hell he was. Surely the costume was a dead giveaway. It was covered in Boomerangs after all! There’d also been footage of him on the news before, albeit him in cuffs and in court, although regardless that shouldn’t have given him some recognition. Regardless, this old fart was going to remember the name Boomerang after today!

After all, he was robbing the place.

Stepping back from the disgruntled pensioner, Boomerang turned to face the rest of the cabletied hostages, surveying the situation at hand. So far everything seemed to be going according to plan. Him and the rest of his motley crew; Shocker, Hydro-Man, and Speed Demon, had taken hold of the joint with no problem at all, gathering the staff and customers into the bank’s main lobby. Especially since Spider-Man was currently indisposed. Before hitting the place, Boomerang had waited until the wall-crawling bastard had been spotted and posted about on social media. Apparently today he was dealing with some kind of incident at some fashion company. Hopefully the punk was picking a better looking costume!

Although even if Spider-Man did many to finish whatever it was he was doing, Boomerang doubted that the guy would swing all the way out to Jersey City. Place was an utter dump! As well as an utter bore. Personally he figured that he was doing the city a favour by robbing the place. It would give the people something legitimate to complain about for once.

The loud sounds of metallic clanging from one of the bank’s back rooms caught Boomerang’s attention. It was seem that Shocker and Hydro-Man had managed to find a way to open the vault. A short cheer from them confirmed the fact.

They were actually doing it!

That thought soon disappeared from Fred’s mind however when the sound of a police siren rung out over the temporary silence. Someone must have pressed the silent alarm! Boomerang swore loudly as his eyes darted to the bank’s front windows. It would seem that this was going to get interesting.

As such, a burst of colour and wind rushed passed him, whizzing out of the bank’s door. It returned several seconds later, stopping next to him in the form of his colleague Speed Demon.

“There’s lots of them, Freddy” He said with a face full of glee. “Caught sight of one of the drivers too. Hot. So hot!”

While incredibly useful, Speed Demon was always an enormous pain the ass. Ignoring the speedster’s latter comment, he turned to reply.

“How are Shocker and Hydro doing?” He asked inquisitively. When he didn’t reply, Boomerang scowled, before snapping his fingers in front of the guy’s now daydreaming face. “Oi!”

“Oh..Sorrrry!” Instantly he disappeared, leaving a gust of wind in his place, before reappearing where he had been stood about a second later. “Yeah, they’re just packing up now.”

The news made Fred smile. All they needed to do now was make a clear getaway. As such, just as the thought was passing through his mind, the police decided to would be a good idea to arrive.

“You’re dead moron!” The old man from before shouted from where he had been cowering on the floor.

Boomerang rolled his eyes. Did he really think that he couldn’t take care of a few meesely cops? Whipping a boomerang out from his belt, he pointed it forwards towards the man.

“You think so Gramps? Well you just strap yourself in and watch the show!”

With that, Fred flicked his wrist to the right, letting go of the weapon. The projectile whizzed through the air, smashing through the window and straight into the nearest police car, lodging itself into the car bonnet with a faint thud. Instantly, the exploding boomerang erupted in a flash of light and fire, sending the vehicle flying into the air in a ball of fire. The cops outside scattered immediately, most calling out in terror and fear. Boomerang just watched with a smile.

Not wishing to delay the mission any longer, he headed backwards towards the vault door in order to help the rest of his crew. As if on cue however, Shocker and Hydro-Man rounded the corner, duffle bags slugged over their shoulders and in their arms.

“Let’s bounce boss!” Hydro-Man said with a smile, as the two villains handed Boomerang and Speed Demon each a bag.

Deciding to take their lead, the four charged towards the banks entrance, towards both their freedom and the cops, whom had now begun to rallying outside. Luckily Shocker was spearheading the charge. Moving quickly, the quilt-suited man raised his right arm, aiming his gauntlet towards his targets. He fired, releasing a blast from his vibro-shock units, causing the bank’s remaining windows to shatter, as well as bring all the men to their knees.

“Speed Demon.” Boomerang commanded as the group headed out of the doors and neared the now downed police officers.

“Got it Boomer.”

Instantly the speedster overtook the rest of group, rocketing into the cops at high speeds and knocking them backwards and into unconsciousness. By the time he had finished, the rest of the group were crossing the street towards their getaway vehicle, Boomerang laying down protective fire as they did so, launching boomerangs everywhere. Chucking the bags into the back of the van, the four of them crammed into the rusty old van, as Hydro-Man attempted to start the engine.

After several seconds of intense revving, as well as a couple of loud creaks, the vehicle lurched forwards. Gaining speed, the van raced down the road, the bank and the cops growing smaller and smaller in the mirrors.

“I cannot believe she was capable of doing this.” Doctor Tumolo told Hawkeye and Mockingbird after they had arrived to investigate the recent incident at the doctor’s lab. “She seemed like such a smart and nice assistant.”

“Unfortunately, we have heard that line more often than not.” Hawkeye admitted as he peered around the laboratory. “You mentioned that you have had some inventory stolen. What exactly was lifted?”

“Oh, yes.” The doctor replied. She turned and lead the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents back where her other assistants had found Greer Grant earlier that morning. “Besides the flash drive we found that she had left behind, there have been a few samples stolen from our lab.”

“Samples?” Mockingbird asked. She had crouched down to examine the spot where their suspect had been discovered. On the ground, there was a small splat of blood on the ground. Unless Greer had fell and hit her head while undergoing her transformation, this evidence seemed to be a little out of place.

“Let me check my files. We work with so many different species that it is hard to keep track of all of them.” Doctor Tumolo said as she walked away from the scene of the crime and back over to her office, where she logged into her computer and opened up one of the various files she had stored on that machine. “Alright, besides the tiger serum she injected herself with, several avian and reptile samples, including the Komodo dragon and harpy eagle serums, have went missing.

“Wait, I thought you guys were only using harmless animals?” Hawkeye questioned the doctor when he heard about which species had been used in Doctor Tumolo’s experiments.

“Well, we have only performed out experiments with herbivore DNA and we haven’t even proceeded to human trials on those. We don’t want another Curt Connor’s situation on our hands.”

“And yet we’re on a manhunt for a Furry.” Hawkeye quipped at the irony of the situation.

Then Hawkeye heard a buzzing of his communicator device on his belt. And when he answered the call, Clint was alerted that there was a sighting of Greer Grant. After they thanked the doctor for her assistance in their investigation, Hawkeye and Mockingbird hurried out of the lab.

“I told you it wouldn’t take long to find a girl with fur and a tail.” Hawkeye joked as he exited the building.

The Winter Soldier suppressed an agonising scream as an excruciating wave of pain rippled through his skull. It felt as if a cold metal hand was reaching inside his skull and pulling the memories right out of him leaving a hollow shell in the places where fond thoughts had once been. He wasn't even sure what he was beginning to remember before the thoughts were ripped out again and suddenly he was blank again.

"Soldat?"



"Good"

The voice was familiar, a memory, one that had been planted in his brain that was safe from the erasure. No matter how many memories they pulled out of him, compliance was always stuck there. Obedience. Utter devotion to his master.
"I have a mission for you Winter Soldier" Strucker explained
"Tell me" Bucky said, eyes locked forward, dead inside.
"You will be flying to the United States, New York City. There, you will find and neutralise your target."
"Who?"
"Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, a Mr Nicholas J Fury. Eliminate him by any means necessary. Tear apart the entire city if you must." Strucker instructed.
"Done." he agreed without hesitation.
"Good. Let him go." Strucker turned on his heels cavalierly, brushing a spec of dust from the lapel of his expensive suit, underground secret bunkers weren't exactly luxurious places to hang out, but they kept SHIELD agents and other undesirables out which was never a bad thing.

The restraints on the chair, thick metal shackles, hissed as they split apart and slid back into the arms of the uncomfortable cold chair. The Winter Soldier rose from the chair as a variety of nameless, faceless Hydra agents scurried around him like rats. One handing him his shirt, another a backpack with a fake identity, cash, and a side arm in it, others carrying out whatever tasks they were designated with.
"When you land in New York you will get into a car which will take you to a safe-house with one of my colleagues, there. You will arm yourself and begin your mission then immediately return to base. Understood." Strucker wasn't asking, it was a command.
The Winter Soldier nodded and made his way toward the garage where he'd find his escort to the airport. With SHIELD eyes everywhere, it would be much more inconspicuous to send the man who would assassinate Nick Fury on a commercial flight from Russia rather than a private Hydra plane. SHIELD had eyes everywhere and hiding in plain sight was one of the Winter Soldiers talents after all.



The Winter Soldier waited, watching the people around him, listening to them, snippets of conversations floating in and out. Some spoke English, tourists or foreign diplomats and businessmen, there were a lot more Russian speakers, there was another group speaking in hushed tones in Cantonese. Holidayers, businessmen on trips, families and old retired couples, there was a particularly rowdy gaggle of girls coming or going from a hen party trip, otherwise the assemblage of people in the 9th Terminal of Moscow International seemed utterly normal. All groups were having their own little exchanges, blissfully unaware of the dangerous assassin in their midst. Barnes was aware that any of them, at any second, could be assigned as his next target.

"I sure hope nothing weird happens this weekend" one suited man said to another.
The second man finished wiping his glasses with a tissue and began his reply, "It was a freak incident ... you saw the news reports, the cops will be on high alert all over the city now that the cleanup operation is under way, it's probably never been safer. You worry too much."
"Yeah, well you'd be worried too if a huge green monster came a-knockin on your door or that giant woman with a hammer broke into your house and tore it apart like she did at Stark Tower."
"Freak incidents Lewis. The military or something flew in and arrested that crazy chick and that green guy hasn't been seen or heard of ever since, it was probably a publicity stunt and next week there will be movie trailers for some big green thing movie, marketing departments will do anything to make a sell. All those weird events and the giant snakes and Parringtons mansion, they were all staged, I'm tellin' ya!"
"Yeah, well seems like a pretty risky publicity stunt to me, someone coulda got hurt for real, and that means real lawsuits."
"You're paranoid, yknow that."
Bucky made a mental note to watch out for Green Giants, mega-snakes and Hammer Women, they could be unexpected complications he could encounter on this mission, though they sounded utterly ridiculous, it never hurt to store pieces of information away when and where he could. It was good to know what he was getting himself into. He scanned the dossier in his bag, a picture of Fury, he memorised the face, he wouldn't miss this target, he never missed a target. Maps and hideouts, escape routes all were listed in the reports he flipped through. Somehow the maze of streets seemed almost familiar, he just knew he way around after a quick glance. The layout of the city was planned and methodical though, it made perfect sense to put a highway here and a hospital there and a shopping complex over there. He ignored the "familiarity" of the city, it was all in his head, he'd never been to New York before. All he knew was the basement hideout in Russia, everything else was wiped clean.

The lady at the desk smiled and asked for his ticket and passport. Barnes handed the forged document over and she glanced at it, back to his face, and waved him forward, wishing him an enjoyable trip.
"Have an enjoyable trip Mr Volkov" she smiled.

He took his seat and waited. He knew someone could be waiting for him, to kill him, on this very plane, anywhere. He wasn't frightened, he had concealed a sidearm under his hoodie and his arm was a weapon in itself, even if it was hidden beneath a flimsy cotton hoodie. His body was a weapon and he wasn't threatened by the middle-aged man struggling with a sudoku beside him. His undercover clothes felt off when he was accustomed to his tactical combat gear, but he ignored the minor discrepancy and planned his attack.

He'd reach American soil at roughly 5 A.M. It would be dark, but by the time he armed himself at the safe house and then tracked down Fury, it could be closer to 7 A.M. and it would begin to get brighter in the morning. He would have to act fast, or wait for night to fall again. He could attack during the daylight hours, but assassinations were always quicker, cleaner and easier under cover of darkness. He decided he'd tail Fury while he could, learn his habits, learn when to strike. Then, as soon as night crept in the following evening, he'd launch his attack. If he could get close enough, a knife in the back or a quick snap of the neck would suffice, but if Fury had an entourage of guards, he'd pick him off from a distance. It would be a quick easy kill, same as any other.

"You from New York kid?" the passenger asked.
"No."
"First time visiting?"

The rest of the conversation died in the passengers mouth when he found himself on the receiving end of a particularly scathing disinterested glare. The Winter Soldier didn't care much for idle small talk when he was on a mission.



The plane touched down and The Winter Soldier passed through the security check with ease, Hydra tech concealed his bionic arm from detection and in his civvie clothes he looked generally unremarkable. The way he walked and moved melted from soldier to civilian, even his gait was inconspicuous and he melted into the crowd of people, keeping his eyes peeled for his pickup. A hand gripped his right forearm, Barnes remained stoically still then he heard the words "Hail Hydra" whispered by his ear, low enough that they'd not be overheard, but loud enough for Barnes keen hearing to pick up despite all the chatter and noise surrounding them. The Hydra agent nodded toward a black van vehicle parked on the kerb, windows blacked out. Even without the informant waiting for him, Bucky would likely have picked out that car anyway.

There was two men sitting in the back, the informer who whispered to him melted back into the crowd and vanished as Bucky got in. The driver in the front started up the car and veered into the steady stream of traffic.
"Do you have a location on the target?" Barnes asked.
"Still looking sir, but Hydra has eyes everywhere, we will find him"
Barnes leaned back in his chair and waited, the safe house wasn't far and he'd shortly be able to change into his proper attire and arm himself adequately.




Dwight was upset to be up at such a dreadfully early hour ... but Tarene had followed his instructions on using a cellphone to a T and he had no choice but to meet her at the harbour ... she hadn't specified where abouts on the harbour, and the harbour was huge, as Dwight blundered around various warehouses and containers he was beginning to think it had been a stupid idea to agree to come out here at all.

Tarene was sitting atop a tower of stacked cargo containers, she had a great vantage point and spotted Dwight immediately, there was a handful of dock workers loping about from one place to another, but Dwight stuck out like a sore thumb, blundering blindly with no clear direction or destination. Tarene jumped down and landed steadily in front on him, he jumped out of his skin as she rose back up to her full height. A jump from that high would have shattered a regular humans thigh bones, but she was utterly unscathed.

Dwight stared at her, bewildered, his heart hammering in his chest from shock. Being up at such an ungodly hour hadn't helped his nerves, but he knew better than to say no to an Asgardian Goddess ... Suddenly it didn't seem like such a stupid idea coming out here at all, ignoring a vengeful God was far stupider.

"What are you doing?!" Dwight hissed, growing impatient with Tarene's madness and in a moment of lapsed judgement, simply splurting out his anger.
"I'm leaving" she answered.
"You can't just leave, you have no where to go" Dwight countered, though he wasn't sure why he was trying to stop this. Tarene was a wanted criminal, a demi God and unbelievably strong, not to mention unpredictable. He knew better than to associate with her since she'd broken out of SHIELD custody and gone on the run.
"And what have I here?" she asked rhetorically, nothing. "I am wanted by the SHIELD and this place is not my home, my home has been destroyed. It is best for me to leave, find somewhere quiet where I cannot cause any more harm. Loki is a liar ... I do not believe he has truly reconciled himself, but I lost my way when I tried to apprehend him. I have harmed and even killed innocents so I must leave."
Mjolnir has abandoned me ... I cannot feel Her ... I cannot hear Her. It must be true ... I must be unworthy.

Tarene couldn't admit it to Dwight, so escaping custody seemed like a good excuse to leave. In truth, she ached from all her losses ... Mjolnir was all she'd had left of Asgard and now that too had been stripped away from her. She wanted to go far away ... find a new purpose perhaps. Most of all, she wanted to be away from New York, it had too many memories, all too fresh ... plus she wasn't the most inconspicuous and hiding from SHIELD agents and NYPD was growing difficult.

"Alright then" Dwight replied evenly, at least, as evenly as he could muster, his voice shook a little.
"Where will you go?"
She shrugged, she didn't know, she didn't know the first thing about Midgardian geography, but that didn't tend to bother her anyway.
"Wherever the next ship takes me." she pointed out to a huge hauler that was loading up.

They looked at eachother awkwardly for a moment, Dwight rocking slightly on his heels with his hands in his pockets. He yelped in surprise when Tarene pulled him into a slightly-too-tight-hug and then let him go.
"Stay safe Dwight ... Perhaps we will meet again ... hopefully on better terms" she lay a hand heavily on his shoulder then turned toward the hauling ship.

“I am having air support coming in and I should be able to get you an exit point to the South East of the base. But this is all going to depend on you and Jack getting in and out quick.” Iron Man noted through the comms as he continued fighting off what felt like an endless horde of guys trying to get into the base. All frantic but with some strange sense of coordination to it. Like a game of Space Invaders that went horribly array. Still the new suit was holding up spectacularly well.

Suddenly though, realizing that while there was some noise on the other side of the comms Sam hadn’t properly turned off his comms to Tony. The young billionaire had to roll his eyes at the off hand comments the clearly still bitter Cap said to their English teammate. “Hey uh Captain... bro? If you’re going to whine like that can you maybe make sure you’ve turned off the comms link properly first?” Tony sarcastically snipped. “I get you’re steadfast in trying to not like me, but maybe don’t insult the guy who’s trying to keep you out of harm’s way. Pretty sure that’s military protocol in some way.” Tony turned off the communication link on his end sighing irritated. “Oh but I’m the unprofessional one right?” He muttered to himself.

As he fought on, swooping around an AIM helicopter and grabbing its rear rudder. Tony sighed as if he was back at his desk with not much work to do. “Jarvis? Call Pepper.” He commanded, quickly hearing the ringing through the internal speakers. “Hello?” Pepper responded after about one and a half rings.

“Hey Pepps its Tony, listen go ahead and reschedule those meetings with the people wanting to bring in the done prototype for tomorrow. I think I can squeeze it in...” He started swinging the helicopter like a hammer throw. Only to launch it with terminal velocity towards an arriving tank. “Also go ahead and tell Reed that the new equipment for his lab should be coming in tomorrow. I won’t be able to come back and help set it up though. He should be okay with that though, I mean he's smart enough to do it himself right?”

Logan was alone. He sat in the center of a non-descript metal room, staring ahead at the one-way mirror that dominated the front wall. The only things inside with Wolverine were two metal chairs and a table, all bolted to the white tile floor. The rest of the room was bare of any decoration or furniture. Logan noted the lack of a clock; a classic interrogation tactic. They wanted to make James feel as if he had been isolated for hours, when only thirty six minutes and twelve seconds had passed since he was escorted inside. He'd counted. Logan had also counted the three hours and eight minutes prior where he had been forced into a shower room to wash after his exposure to nuclear fallout, followed by another two hours of being fitted for his own personal X-Gene neutralization collar and finally five more hours of solitary confinement. He'd guessed it was around nine thirty in the morning of the following day. The only living souls Wolverine had laid eyes on during that time were dressed in Hazmat suits. They were testing his resolve. Trying to tear down his morale. But Logan wasn't some purse thief or rank amateur; he could stand spending a couple of hours by himself.

What he couldn't stand was the inhibitor collar. Or the specialized shackles keeping Logan pinned to the floor and his claws effectively leashed. He felt naked without his acute senses. And if it came to a fight, he'd have no healing factor or claws to rely on. If he’d been in this situation back before the adamantium, Logan could’ve broken his own wrist to escape the handcuffs. That was the problem with being invincible. When you were stuck, you were stuck. Wolverine had already tried slicing his way outta the things; but whoever had made the shackles was thorough. Every time he tried to unsheathe, all he managed to do was hurt himself. At this point, James was content to wait out the interrogation. An opportunity to escape would present itself within time. Patience had never been one of the mutant’s strong suits, however, so waiting for the proper timing could be a struggle. And here I am with nothing to pass the time. Logan mused.

The door to the small room swung open. Two men in SHIELD uniforms moved inside, one staying near the door while the other stood against the far wall behind Wolverine. Each carried a sidearm and a remote control of some kind; likely to activate a paralyzing agent in the collar. Neither spoke, which meant they weren’t his actual interrogators. Given Logan’s record, he suspected he would garner the attention of someone of decent rank. After all, there was very recent video footage of him breaking into the Helicarrier. Add onto that fact that Wolverine was a part of a team that kidnapped the Hulk, was partially responsible for a nuclear explosion in Canada, and was a member of a black ops mutant terror cell...Yeah. Logan would be waiting awhile for parole. The door opened once more, and third figure stepped inside the tiny, non-descript room. Logan recognized the man the instant he saw him. “Fury.” He grunted. "..." The Director of SHIELD stared at the man across from him with his one good eye for exactly two minutes before he even spoke a word. “You age well.” Nick finally said, taking a seat. “Could say the same to you, you old bastard.” Logan retorted, his face as emotionless and expressionless as a stone. "How you been? How're the commandos?"

Fury returned the serious gaze. "Aside from the world falling apart at the seams? I'm doing just fine. You know the Howling Commandos. They'll keep doing what they do until they drop." For a moment, it seemed Fury remembered Wolverine rather fondly. That is, until he continued to speak. “Mind telling me what the hell is going on here?” The director finally asked, sounding rather peeved off. “Listen, Nick, I haven’t been myself since-“ He started, only for the SHIELD agent to cut him off with a scoff. “Damn right you haven’t! James Howlett, Canadian war hero and the man who saved my life more times than I can count, turns out to be a terrorist. Something about that isn’t right.” James huffed, struggling against his chains. “Listen, bub. Some son of a bitch named Romulus has been screwing with my mind for years. Maybe decades. And I ain’t the only one. My whole team was compromised.“ He explained. The Canadian-born assassin had never been more sincere in his entire life. Everything hinged upon this moment. He had to convince Nick Fury to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he couldn’t, Wolverine would spend the rest of his immortal life in a cold, dark cell in the middle of nowhere. “Mind control. That’s new.” The sarcasm in the director’s words certainly didn’t help James’ confidence. “Look, bub. I’ll take whatever test you want me to. It’s the truth and I’d do anything to prove it.” Before Fury could respond, a device in his jacket pocket went off. He pulled out a black cube of some sort and glanced at it, sighing. “I’m a busy man and I have more important things to do than chase ghost stories about mind control and the bogeyman. I’ll have someone in here to take your side of the story. But son, it doesn’t look good for you.”

With that, the Director of SHIELD, and Wolverine’s only chance at escaping custody, stood to leave.

“But hey. It was good to see a familiar face-“ Fury spoke over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him.

“-Even if he’s gone batshit crazy.”

While she waited for the express elevator to arrive at the S.W.O.R.D. base, Carol used her powers to finish up the repairs on the damage on her costume that was caused during her short confrontation with the Scorpion. She needed to remember that, although she was near-invulnerable, her ‘uniform’ did not have the same luxury. Carol, in fact, was lucky that the battle with the Scorpion was so short that she was able to get away before anyone else could arrive at the scene of the crime. Otherwise, the tabloids would have tried to hype the situation up to be the superhuman community’s version of the 2004 Super Bowl half-time controversy.

Then the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing a room full of over-worked, under-staffed S.W.O.R.D. agents trying to hold down the fort. Although there was some evidence for the presence of extra-terrestrial beings on Earth, an invasion of ‘Little Green Men’ was not taken seriously and therefore this subsidiary of S.H.I.E.L.D., which itself runs on a tight budget, was short-changed in the funding opportunity. Unfortunately, the only way to make themselves relevant was to prove an imminent threat by aliens and no one wants the events of Independence Day to actually happen in the real world.

In the middle of the room was Abigail Brand, who was the head of S.W.O.R.D. Anyone would say that her most defining feature was her unnaturally green hair. Although she believes that this agent of S.W.O.R.D. must be dying her hair, for whatsoever reason, Carol never seen her hair fade or change hues after a recent dying. While Carol had only been working with S.W.O.R.D. for about a month, she has heard similar stories about Ms. Brand’s perfect green hair from some of the more veteran agents.

“The unit will be in place in a matter of seconds.” Agent Lawson reported to Abigail Brand. S.W.O.R.D. had been following a lead on A.I.M. for the last couple weeks. While there was no evidence of any technology of extra-terrestrial origin in these crazy scientists’ possession, there were rumors about them reverse-engineering such devices, which they have learned from an as of yet unknown source or informant. Hopefully this little unmanned mission will shed some light on this mystery.

On the giant computer monitor in the front of the room, an image of the interior of one of the numerous AIM bases. In the center of the room was the head scientist of this particular base. This yellow-suited man was carrying on a conversation with a peculiar woman who had a pair of avian wings. While strange looking humans, whether mutant or not, have appeared around the globe in recent years, this woman seemed even more suspect. As the woman continued to talk, the agents of S.W.O.R.D. could hear a strange accent that the woman had. This accent did not sound like anything that have heard before. Maybe this was the reason because this woman was not a native speaker of any human language.

“Well, Ms. Marvel, looks like you’re up.” Abigail Brand told her newest agent.

“Yes Ma’am.” Carol turned to return to the express elevator. However, before she entered the elevator carriage, Abigail Brand intentionally coughed in order to get her attention.

“We have a hanger bay that you can use.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?” Ms. Marvel gestured at the elevator, which she just had taken to get into their base.

"I really hate it when he buggers with my comm system. I know full well when it's turned off, it's tap on tap off." It wasn't exactly rocket science, it's not like he was flying one of the kids high tech suits. Not that he needed anything like that, his wings were all he needed. There was skill involved in his line of work, he didn't just rely on technology. The elevator door opened and he ducked as he threw the shield, drawing his pistol and firing at the guards in the hallway. Agent Falsworth ran out tackling some of the guards as Sam finished off the last couple of guards and looked down the two hallways, one way to the right and one to the left. Both hallways looked equally foreboding. He turned to Falsworth. "You take the right, I'll take the left. Radio in if you need a hand, or if you find something ground breaking."

With no hesitation they both split up heading down their respective hallways, it was relatively quiet down here. They could hear the occasional thud as Stark blew something up above their heads. Though there were no alarms blaring, no warning lights. Sam often forgot that A.I.M wasn't an actual military institution, they were all scientists. Occasionally there was an actual guard who knew what he was doing but more often than not they were just hired help rather than actual members of the cause. The doors didn't hold a lot of promise, storage. Science looking equipment (but with no computer, the scientists could come in later and take a crack at it), nothing ehre seemed to be worth the defense that A.I.M were mounting up top. A.I.M typically kept it's operations out of the way, hidden. Lightly armed and high tech, not drawing a lot of attention. However this facility was heavily armed, and seemed to be of an older design which is how S.H.I.E.L.D had discovered it. He opened a door and immediately ducked behind his shield as laser fire began raining down on him from through the door, he had to adjust his footing to compensate for being pushed back. Sometimes he wished he had more of this super soldier stuff in his blood, but all he had was enough to keep him on his feet when the average joe might go down.

He lifted his pistol over his shield to try and get a couple of shots out however with the fact that more fire continued to rain down against him that didn't appear to be very successful. Picking a grenade off his belt he lobbed it over the shield and ducked behind the door, it wasn't explosive. Doing something like that would likely get him an earfull from the eggheads back at base, no. Instead it'd short out circuitry, without damaging any storage devices... at least that was the theory. Ducking back out of cover he let off a couple of shots at two guards and continued to run forward and crashed through another door. What he saw, wasn't what he was expecting, men in the yellow aim suits surrounded some form of crypod.

Sam didn't even react to the figures of A.I.M. If he wasn't mistaken, inside that cryopod was the face of Steve Rogers.

The original Captain America.

_@Facepunch