SHIELD Building, Ninth Floor.
Agent's Office.
Finnian Murdock was at his desk, slacking off like a pro.
Rumlow—the guy he'd bumped into that morning—was officially the captain of SHIELD's Rapid Response Special Forces. Unofficially? He was HYDRA.
One of Alexander Pierce's most trusted enforcers.
Truth was, in SHIELD, outside of Fury's handful of loyalists, most agents were HYDRA.
Hell, you could almost say Fury and his people were the undercover agents inside HYDRA.
So, Finnian needed to think carefully about Rumlow's "team-up" invitation.
On his road to the top, HYDRA could be an ally or an obstacle. It all depended on whether Finnian could pull the strings right.
After all, in American politics, Security Councilman Pierce, Congressman Gideon Malick, and Senator Stern weren't just big names—they were HYDRA.
If he could win them over, great. If not? Well, knocking them down would also look damn impressive on his résumé.
Either way, Finnian had decided: HYDRA was going down.
"Murdock, dinners on me tonight. We'll celebrate after work!"
Coulson's voice pulled Finnian out of his scheming.
"Alright," Finnian smirked. "What's the occasion? You win the lottery?"
"Welcoming you to the family," Coulson grinned, "and also… celebrating the return of our colleagues who've been away a few days."
Finnian nodded. Ah. Short Legs and Hawkeye must be back.
Coulson paused. "By the way, your agent rank will take a little time to finalize."
Translation: Prove yourself first.
"Got it," Finnian said easily.
Truth was, SHIELD and Finnian weren't exactly rowing the same boat. Fury brought him in partly out of suspicion, partly as a test.
But the bigger agenda? To get leverage over Matt Murdock, the Dare Devil of Hell's Kitchen.
Fury was dead set on assembling the Avengers.
But right now? Stark hadn't built the Iron Man suit yet. The Hulk was… a coin toss between savior and disaster. Thor hadn't landed. Cap was still frozen.
The most reliable vigilante around? Matt Murdock.
Meanwhile, Finnian had his own plans: SHIELD was just a springboard to the White House.
Afternoon.
Rumlow "coincidentally" bumped into Finnian again in the smoking area downstairs.
"Brother, got time this afternoon? Let's hit the training ground for some sparring."
When Finnian raised a brow, Rumlow leaned closer and whispered, "Sorry. Director's orders."
Of course. Pierce wanted him tested. Fury wanted him tested.
Double orders.
"Spicy corned egg," Finnian muttered.
Then he stretched his arms and grinned. "Fine. My hands are itching anyway."
SHIELD Training Ground.
Rumlow slipped into training clothes and started throwing warm-up punches, every move sharp and precise.
Finnian, on the other hand, strolled in wearing a crisp white shirt, black trench coat, and didn't bother moving a muscle. He just sat there like he was waiting for coffee.
"Captain, go get him!"
A small crowd had gathered—agents, grunts, the usual rubberneckers. Even Fury, Coulson, and a freshly returned Natasha Romanoff stood watching.
Rumlow raised his gloves. "Ready, brother?"
"Come on," Finnian beckoned lazily with one finger.
Truth was, this was his first real fight since powering up. He wasn't even sure how much strength to use.
Three-tenths? That sounded fair. Rumlow was good enough to trade blows with Captain America for a few minutes. Three-tenths should keep things even.
At least, that was the plan.
From the crowd's perspective, Rumlow was a blur—fists like lightning. Finnian, though, looked like an idiot just standing there.
Everyone braced for the hit.
But Finnian's world slowed to a crawl.
The Perfect Spider Serum was no joke. Rumlow's punch came frame by frame. Finnian just leaned slightly, letting the fist glide past.
Rumlow's strike crashed into the ropes. He froze, realization flashing in his eyes. This wasn't going to be easy.
The once-noisy gym went dead quiet. Fury's single good eye gleamed.
Had he just found a treasure?
Punch after punch, Rumlow tried everything, but not once did he even graze Finnian's coat. Each time he lunged, he ended up tangled in ropes.
Finally, panting and frustrated, Rumlow snarled, "What, all you can do is dodge, brother?"
Finnian sighed, stepped forward with his left foot, turned slightly, and channeled power into his shoulder.
"Iron Mountain Lean!"
The impact was thunderous.
Rumlow spat blood, body flung like a rag doll. He smashed through the ropes, soared several meters, and slammed into the wall before crumpling to the floor.
His body twitched.
Special forces agents rushed in, but Rumlow croaked, "Don't… move. It's broken."
Fury barked, "Medical! Now!"
Finnian hurried forward, sheepish. "Sorry, brother. Miscalculated my strength."
Rumlow coughed another mouthful of blood, then grinned through it. "No problem. It's normal to be a little surprised in sparring."
The story spread like wildfire: Captain Rumlow of SHIELD's Special Forces, ribs shattered by new agent Finnian Murdock—rank pending.
Mealtime gossip was secured for months.
Fury's eye flashed with calculation. A fighter this good? He could slot Finnian into the Rapid Response team, then slowly ease Rumlow out of power.
"Not bad," Fury said, teeth flashing bright against his dark face. "Not bad at all."
Coulson silently gave a thumbs up. Good work, kid.
That evening at dinner, Coulson was still buzzing.
"Murdock, you gotta teach me that Iron Mountain move."
"No problem," Finnian smirked.
When Maria Hill shot Coulson a look sharp enough to cut glass, he quickly shifted topics.
"This is Agent Clint Barton. That's Agent Natasha Romanoff. And this… is Hill's boyfriend, Finnian Murdock."
The moment "boyfriend" was dropped, Hawkeye and Black Widow both looked Finnian over with new curiosity.
"Hello."
"Hello."
Introductions done, Coulson raised his glass. "To our new teammate. Welcome to SHIELD!"
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
Even though Fury wasn't at the table, his presence loomed large. Midway through the party, Coulson's phone buzzed.
Fury's gravelly voice barked through the line:
"Hulk's fighting a monster. Get your team moving."