Chapter 93
Fury's words about Rogers, spoken into the settled silence, literally changed everything. Like a grandmaster's move, they swept every piece from the board and reshuffled the entire game.
Captain America. This wasn't simply a significant figure. This was, damn it all, a significant figure.
Calculation blazed through my mind immediately. Seventy years had passed since his death. Seventy years during which he had not been forgotten. On the contrary. He had been canonized. Cinema, comics, literature, history lessons in every school. Steve Rogers was everywhere. His image was an idealized, grandiose, overwrought, but frighteningly effective symbol of the American war machine. A symbol of a bygone era everyone was nostalgic for.
And now the central question.
When this saint, frozen in the ice, was awakened, what would he see? The first person to meet him would be Nick Fury. And the second would be the news. The news that his entire sacrifice, his entire war, everything he had fought for had turned to ash. That Hydra had not merely survived: it had won. That the Pentagon, the government, S.H.I.E.L.D. itself, the organization his friends had built, had rotted to the core. That over the seventy years he had spent in cryosleep, the world he had saved had been enslaved from the shadows.
What would happen wouldn't simply be a breakdown. It would be the annihilation of his entire worldview.
And then, afterward, Fury would follow up with more good news.
He would tell Rogers that Hydra, though it had ruled for seventy years, had been destroyed. Mostly. And not by the forces of the Great American State, which by now had devolved into a capitalist cesspool where the oligarchs in power couldn't even agree on how to remove an overreaching mob-boss mayor from the picture. Yes, Kingpin, I'm talking about you.
No. Hydra had been destroyed by the new S.H.I.E.L.D. An organization that had just, with one bloody but precise strike, proven its right to protect humanity.
And whose side would Rogers take?
A patriot to the core, he would naturally stand with the flag. But for how long? A week. Maybe a month. Fury was a master of manipulation, and he would know exactly which buttons to push. Betrayal. Duty. The difference between country and government.
And Rogers would become ours.
He would join the team, and someone would need to suggest a better name to Fury than the Avengers. He would become its moral compass. He would care nothing for the interests of those in power, only for protecting humanity.
Better still, we would have Bucky Barnes on our side. One of the rescued Winter Soldiers, whose mind S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best was almost certainly working to restore right now. Fury wouldn't just give Rogers a new purpose. He would give him back his past. It was a flawless move.
A team of the most powerful heroes on the planet, led by the moral authority of Captain America. A team under Fury's personal command. This gave him unimaginable leverage and free rein. The resentment of the politicians and corporations we had taken down would grow even stronger, naturally. But the power. It would be on our side.
And whatever anyone said, in this world power was everything. When, not if, the first truly global catastrophe arrived, all those discontented voices would have to shut up and beg this team to save them.
"Rogers?" Gwen raised an eyebrow, the first to break the silence. She clearly hadn't grasped the full implications yet. Then her eyes went wide with shock. "Wait. You mean Steve Rogers?"
"Yes, Stacy," Fury said evenly, his eyes sweeping steadily around the room. "Captain Steve Rogers. After analyzing Zola's archives and the data from Pierce, our analysts calculated the approximate location of his plane's crash site in the Arctic. He's here at the base now, frozen in a block of ice. We're preparing to thaw him out."
"He's alive?" Gwen whispered.
"He's a super-soldier." Fury shrugged, as if that explained everything. "The ideal one. The formula in his blood slowed his metabolism, putting him into suspended animation. Obviously, he's alive."
"The information is certainly useful," Hyperion said, nodding. He'd been staring blankly at the wall until then. "But what does it mean for us? Was this the only reason you gathered us here, Fury? To announce a new recruit?"
"Not only." Fury shook his head. "The news about Rogers is context. The real reason is that I need to resolve some questions I can't entrust to analysts. I can handle Rogers's reintegration into the modern world myself. But what to do with the other acquisitions is another matter entirely."
He paused.
"What to do with the Winter Soldiers. I'd like to hear your thoughts on that."
I understood immediately what Fury was doing.
Having grasped the power and responsibility that had suddenly fallen into his hands after Hydra's fall, he'd decided not to keep it all to himself. He was delegating. Not authority. Responsibility. He was building trust with us, the new key pieces on the board. Specifically with Hyperion, Gwen, and me.
The others in this room, Hill, Barton, Romanoff, and Coulson, were already his people, hanging on his every word. We were new variables.
Just make them S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Isn't that obvious?" Hyperion shrugged. The bureaucracy of all this clearly didn't sit well with him.
"It's not that simple, Marcus," I shook my head. "They're not just soldiers. They're sleeper agents. Ticking bombs loaded with triggers we may not even know about. Any surviving Hydra operative with the right code word can activate them."
"That doesn't negate their incredible usefulness and effectiveness," Barton noted, which was a fair point. He, more than anyone, understood the value of such assets. "Six super-soldiers with perfect training. That's a resource you can't simply write off."
"The best option is to form them into a separate, isolated unit," Maria Hill proposed. "Something like a Wolf Pack. Reporting directly to the director. Put the most stable of them in command."
"Bucky Barnes," I said, and every gaze in the room, including Fury's, turned to me. "If I'm not mistaken, he's the one who was Rogers's friend from before."
I let the thought hang in the air, giving Fury time to appreciate its elegance himself.
"It creates an added incentive for both sides. We're not just rehabilitating a soldier. We're giving Rogers a personal mission: saving his friend. And Barnes, in turn, becomes a living anchor for Steve in this new world. Both of them end up connected to S.H.I.E.L.D."
Fury said nothing. He simply made a brief note on his tablet and moved on.
"Strucker's experiments. The acquisitions from Sokovia. Mutants and Inhumans." He grimaced. "The latter two were, unfortunately, almost entirely harvested for raw material. But a couple of mutants survived and are worth our attention."
Two dossiers appeared on the screen behind Fury.
A thermokinetic, contact-type. Capable of shifting the temperature of whatever he touches from boiling to freezing. And
He grimaced again. A girl who generates immobilizing sonic bubbles from her mouth.
What do they want? Hyperion spoke up again. In a room full of strategists, he was the only one who asked that question.
To be left alone, Fury said flatly. It was clear he was not pleased that such valuable individuals had no desire to join their rescuers.
Then just send them to Xavier and be done with it. I shrugged.
Xavier? Gwen asked in surprise. She wasn't up to speed on that yet.
Charles Xavier, I explained briefly. A very powerful mutant telepath. The leader of, let's say, the good faction of mutants.
Wow, Gwen murmured under her breath, though I caught it. A couple of weeks ago I thought all of this was just urban legends and conspiracy theories. And now. Mutants. Gods. Aliens.
Fury was looking at me. A very careful, measuring look. Filing it away again: Thompson knows things he shouldn't know. Well, I was used to that by now.
After that came questions about politicians, generals, and asset freezes. At this stage Hyperion made no effort to hide his irritation, clearly viewing it all as small-minded busywork.
And something clicked in my head. I looked at Fury, who was methodically laying out before an alien, an inexperienced superheroine, and a dubious techno-mage, the dirtiest secrets of global politics.
And I understood. Fury was afraid.
Not for himself. He was afraid for the work. For S.H.I.E.L.D., for the legacy.
This meeting ran far deeper than I'd initially realized. It wasn't simple delegation. This was contingency planning. This was his plan in the event of his own death.
He understood that after such a purge, he'd become the primary target for everyone, Hydra remnants, corrupt politicians, corporations he'd offended, if he were killed. The work had to survive. And it would survive only if his successor, Maria Hill, wasn't left to stand alone.
She would need support. Our support. The support of new, monstrously powerful figures unshackled from the old system: Hyperion, a god; Gwen, a Ghost; and me.
He wasn't just sharing information. He was binding us to responsibility. Strengthening his inner circle through trust.
Cunning, paranoid bastard. My respect for him went up another notch. And yet. Wasn't he being a bit heavy-handed?
"Nick, why the rush?" I asked, voicing the question that had been gnawing at everyone in the room.
The tension in the air had grown thick, stiff with prolonged strain. We had covered dozens of issues, from the Winter Soldiers to Strucker's mutants, but the stream of crises seemed to have no end. And the main topic, the one this whole gathering had obviously been building toward, was something we hadn't even touched yet.
"As if you don't see it yourself," Fury said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is currently in the most vulnerable position in its entire history."
"True." I nodded. "And at the same time it's stronger than it's ever been." I glanced around at those present: Hyperion, Gwen, Natasha, Barton, Hill. And me. "And it's strange that you're trusting me with all of this to begin with. Doesn't that make S.H.I.E.L.D. even more vulnerable?"
"I'm paranoid, Thompson. Not an idiot," he answered evenly. "I know how to build something resembling trust when it's necessary. And you. For all my..." He paused, choosing the word carefully. "Skepticism toward you. You are the most valuable asset in this room."
"Oh, you have no idea how justified that skepticism is, Nick," I thought, letting myself smile inward as I remembered Rubedo, who was probably already integrated into my building's power grid. Right, I couldn't disclose anything about him. That would be a step too far.
"Well, I'll try not to let down your 'something resembling trust'," I said, nodding. "But that still doesn't answer the main question. What's behind all this urgency?"
"What do you want to hear, Thompson?" Fury narrowed his eye. The tension in the room tightened again.
"The true purpose of this meeting," I said directly. "We've all established that we're in the same boat. We just cut the head off a snake whose tails were wrapped around the entire world. And now all these Rothschilds and Rockefellers." Yes, they existed in this world too. "And the rest, who fed from Hydra's hand, won't simply let that go. We need a next step."
"A team," Fury said, exhaling at last. "The Avengers Initiative. A team of exceptional individuals brought together to fight the battles we could never win alone."
"To protect the Earth from threats no army could handle," Hyperion finished quietly, as if returning from his thoughts. "And to protect S.H.I.E.L.D. itself from those who'd want to finish it off. It wasn't an accident that Rogers was brought in at the start."
"He wasn't," Fury said, nodding. "In due course he will be presented to the public. He will be the face and leader of this team."
"That'll only cool the hotheads for a while," Barton said dryly, leaning back in his chair.
The man was absolutely right. I understood it. Having realized that dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D. through force or direct pressure was no longer viable, given that S.H.I.E.L.D. now had us, those cunning old men in high places would start doing what they did best. Playing the long game.
Soft power. Intrigue. New legislative frameworks, a Metahuman Registration Act. Funding cuts. Espionage aimed at digging up S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own dirty secrets, of which there were plenty even without Hydra. Talent poaching. A million ways to bleed us out.
"That's what we need to buy, Clint," Fury said, looking at him steadily. "And the Avengers Initiative is the best tool for that. The world needs a symbol."
"All of this is very admirable." I clapped my hands once, drawing everyone's attention. My moment. Perhaps this was exactly what I had been placed in this world to do. "But the Avengers? Seriously?"
Judging by the surprised and confused faces around the table, I had landed the punch.
"Nick, that sounds like a bunch of losers." I spread my hands. "Like a group of people who've already lost everything and are just taking revenge. It carries a negative connotation. And from what I understand, you're planning to roll this project out publicly?"
Fury nodded.
Exactly. For a more positive, heroic image, the team needs a different name. Something that inspires hope, rather than reminding everyone of losses.
"The essence of the initiative isn't in the name," Fury agreed with surprising ease. "The team can be called whatever makes sense."
"Well then, ladies and gentlemen." I smiled, deliberately cutting through the tension. "Let's actually discuss the most important question here for once: your suggestions for the name of the greatest team of superheroes on planet Earth? And by the way." I looked at Fury. "Who's actually going to be on this team? Surely not everyone in this room."
I nodded toward Coulson and Maria Hill. They were administrators, not frontline fighters against what was coming.
"Rogers," Fury began, holding up a finger. "Proposed leader and the team's public face. Next." He turned to Hyperion. "Marcus. Your call?"
"I'm in," Hyperion said evenly. "I've seen what coordinated teamwork can do. As for Captain America, if he truly is what they say he is, he'll be a worthy leader."
"He's even better than that." Fury smiled, a barely perceptible, fleeting smile. Remarkable.
"Moving on. Barton." Clint simply nodded.
"There are also the two of you." He looked first at me, then at Gwen.
"I'm in, if, well, John," Gwen began, looking at me with a mix of shyness and uncertainty.
"We're in," I cut in calmly, easing her hesitation. "So that makes five of us? Me, Gwen, Cap, Marcus, and Clint? That feels thin for a team meant to protect the entire planet."
"There will be one more member," Fury said.
I expected him to turn to Natasha, who sat in the shadows, silent and unreadable. But at that moment the door opened and someone else walked in.
He looked lost. He was a man of about thirty, short and slight, wearing a rumpled shirt and corduroy trousers. He had shoulder-length curly hair and glasses. He was the very picture of a physics teacher or an overworked PhD student. He was a textbook man of science. But I recognized him instantly.
And, in fact, so did everyone else in the room.
Hyperion reacted most strongly. He didn't simply tense up. He went still, like bedrock, and the air around him seemed to grow heavy. That was understandable.
Bruce. Freaking. Banner. The Hulk.
"I object," Hyperion said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, resonating with restrained force. "This 'Green Monster.' The Hulk has caused too much destruction. Too much suffering. And you want to make him part of a team of heroes, Nick?"
Banner, who had glanced around awkwardly and taken a seat next to me, radiated stillness. He exuded almost Zen-like calm. He had clearly been working hard on meditation and on taming his inner green giant.
"I second Marcus," Barton added, with unexpected firmness, confirming once again that he was not simply a rank-and-file agent, but someone Fury genuinely trusted to have a genuine voice in these discussions. "The Hulk is an unstable element. We can't control him."
Gwen watched Banner with a complicated expression: a mixture of fear, curiosity, and sympathy. Natasha's gaze was even more layered. There was something personal in it, something whose history I actually knew. As for me, I understood Fury's reasoning. Knowing the Hulk's real potential, the main thing was making sure he never became the Maestro. On balance, having Banner on our side was far from the worst outcome, which was exactly the point Fury went on to argue.
"Dr. Banner has learned to control himself. As the Hulk, he is the ultimate weapon that only needs to be pointed at the enemy. And as Bruce Banner, he is a brilliant scientist with three doctoral degrees. An invaluable intellectual asset for this team."
"That doesn't cancel out everything he's done." Marcus shook his head.
"Not him," Fury replied. "The Hulk."
"Strange to hear that from you, Nick, from a man who makes it his business to account for and minimize every possible risk. And this isn't a risk. This is a walking catastrophe."
"I am accounting for it," Fury said, not raising his voice. "At this point in time, in the event of a global, world-ending threat, the Hulk needs to be on our side, not against us. I don't plan to publicize his presence on the team at first. But in time he will rebuild his reputation. You can think of him as temporarily playing the role of a hero, if that makes it easier."
Hyperion looked as though he'd swallowed a lemon, but said nothing.
"I think we've drifted a little from the genuinely important topic," I said, drawing attention back to myself and breaking the awkward pause. "We can discuss the Hulk later. He's not going anywhere, actually." I turned to the scientist and extended my hand. "Good to meet you, Bruce. John Thompson."
He looked slightly surprised, but he shook his hand. The grip was firmer than his scrawny build suggested.
"What we won't be able to discuss so easily later," I continued, turning back to Fury, "is the name. And since we're gathered here as the full founding lineup, let's finally settle that question."
And while we were at it, I needed to bring up additional candidates for the team. Peter, at minimum. That was definitely something to raise. After we sorted out the name.
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