Hotel de Paris, Monaco.
Presidential Suite.
The door opened.
Nick Fury walked in.
He didn't walk in alone. Two SHIELD agents in tactical suits flanked him, weapons holstered but hands hovering near their hips. Fury himself wore his signature long black leather coat, his single eye scanning the room with the intensity of a radar dish.
Ren didn't turn around. He was still standing on the balcony, looking out at the glittering lights of the harbor.
"Nice view," Fury said. His voice was gravel—rough, authoritative, accustomed to being obeyed. "Costs five grand a night. Pretty steep for a bookseller."
Ren took a sip of his sparkling water.
"I invested in stark Industries when it was trading at forty dollars a share," Ren said calmly. "I can afford the view."
"Right," Fury stepped further into the room. He gestured to his agents to secure the perimeter. They swept the bathroom and the closet. "And the strength to throw a forty-pound suitcase fifty yards with pinpoint accuracy? Where did you buy that?"
Ren turned around slowly.
He looked at Fury.
[ANALYSIS]
> Subject: Nicholas J. Fury.
> Threat Level: High (Political/Strategic).
> Equipment: Glock 17, hidden communication relay, ocular implant (disabled).
> Status: Suspicious.
Ren smiled. It wasn't a warm smile. It was the polite smile a shark might give before biting a boat.
"Pilates," Ren said.
Fury didn't laugh. He walked to the center of the room, staring Ren down.
"Let's cut the crap," Fury said. "My name is Nick Fury. I'm the Director of SHIELD. And you, Mr. Ren, are a ghost."
Fury threw a file folder onto the coffee table. Slap.
"We ran your prints," Fury listed, ticking off fingers. "Nothing. We ran your face. Nothing. We checked every hospital birth record from 1980 to 1990. Nothing. You popped into existence two years ago in the Middle East with a bag of cash and a body that defies physics."
Fury leaned forward, his eye narrowing.
"So, I'm going to ask you once. Are you a sleeper agent? An alien? Or something I need to put in a box deep underground?"
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. The two agents behind Fury tensed, their fingers twitching toward their guns.
Ren walked to the minibar. He opened a bottle of scotch.
"Drink, Director?" Ren asked.
"Answer the question," Fury barked.
Ren poured two glasses. He walked over to the table and placed one in front of Fury. Then he sat down on the plush sofa, crossing his legs.
"I'm not a sleeper agent," Ren said, swirling his glass. "If I were, you wouldn't be standing here talking. You'd be bleeding."
One of the agents stepped forward. "Watch your tone."
Ren didn't look at the agent. He just tapped his index finger on his knee.
Tap.
Suddenly, the agent gasped. He fell to one knee, clutching his chest. It felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs.
"Stand down, Agent!" Fury ordered, looking at his man in confusion.
"I didn't touch him," Ren said softly. "He's just hyperventilating. Anxiety is a killer."
(Ren had used a Micro-Pressure Wave—a flick of his finger at supersonic speed creating a targeted air pocket. A trick he learned from studying Stark's repulsor tech, but applied biologically).
Fury looked at the agent, then back at Ren. His expression hardened.
"You're a threat," Fury stated.
"I'm a citizen," Ren corrected. "I pay my taxes. I obey the speed limit. I sell rare books."
"You possess enhanced strength, speed, and durability," Fury countered. "That puts you on the Index. That means you belong to SHIELD."
Ren laughed. A short, dry sound.
"Belong?" Ren looked at Fury with pity. "Director, you can barely control the people you pay. You think you can control me?"
Ren leaned forward. His eyes changed. The boredom vanished, replaced by the ancient, cold intelligence of the Perfectionist.
"Let's play a game, Nick," Ren said. "It's called 'Secrets'."
Fury stayed silent.
"I know about the Avenger Initiative," Ren said.
Fury's eye didn't twitch, but his pulse spiked. Ren heard it.
"I know about the Tesseract," Ren continued. "I know it's in a facility called P.E.G.A.S.U.S. I know you're trying to make weapons with it because you're scared of what fell out of the sky in New Mexico last year."
Fury's hand drifted toward his gun. "How do you know that?"
"I know a lot of things," Ren said. "I know that you don't trust your own council. I know that you have a pager in your pocket that calls a woman who flies through stars."
That was the nuke.
Fury froze.
Nobody knew about Captain Marvel. Not the Council. Not Coulson. Only him.
The room went dead silent. The agents were confused, but Fury looked like he had seen a ghost.
"Who are you?" Fury whispered, his voice losing its command.
"I told you," Ren said, leaning back and sipping his scotch. "I'm an anomaly. I know what's coming, Nick. And believe me, you want me on your side. But I don't work for you. I work with you."
Ren pulled a business card from his pocket. It was heavy, black cardstock with gold lettering.
THE ARCHIVES - RARE BOOKS & MANUSCRIPTS.
He slid it across the table.
"I want Consultant status," Ren listed his demands. "Level 10 clearance. Access to SHIELD databases. But I take no orders. I wear no uniform. And if you try to spy on my shop again, I will dismantle your Helicarrier piece by piece."
Fury stared at the card. He stared at Ren.
He processed the threat. This kid knew about the Tesseract. He knew about Carol Danvers. He could kill everyone in this room in three seconds.
If he was an enemy, he would have attacked already.
Fury was a pragmatist. He needed assets.
"Consultant," Fury said, testing the word. "Like Stark?"
"Better than Stark," Ren said. "Stark is messy. I'm clean."
Fury picked up the scotch. He downed it in one gulp.
"Fine," Fury said. "Consultant. But if you step out of line... if you hurt innocent people..."
"I don't hurt innocents," Ren interrupted. "I only break things that need breaking."
Fury stood up. He adjusted his coat.
"We have a situation in New Mexico," Fury said. "A hammer fell out of the sky. Nobody can lift it."
"I know," Ren said. "Let Thor handle it. He needs to learn humility."
Fury paused. "Thor? The Norse myth?"
"Read a book, Director," Ren smiled. "It helps."
Fury shook his head. "You're a pain in my ass already."
"It's a gift," Ren replied.
Fury turned to leave. He signaled his agents. The one on the floor gasped, finally catching his breath, and scrambled up.
At the door, Fury stopped.
"Ren," Fury said without turning around.
"Yes?"
"Welcome to the heavyweights."
The door closed.
Ren's Interface
[STATUS UPDATE]
> SOCIAL STANDING: SHIELD CONSULTANT (LEVEL 10 PENDING).
> THREAT LEVEL: RECOGNIZED.
> ASSET ACCESS: UNLOCKED.
Ren walked to the balcony. He looked at the moon.
He had played his hand perfectly. He had freedom, and he had access. Now, he could access the SHIELD files to find the locations of Hydra bases, Vibranium smugglers, and alien tech caches.
But first... he had a date with a Drone Army.
[NEXT EVENT: STARK EXPO]
[TRAINING OBJECTIVE: EXPLOSIVE RESISTANCE]
Queens, New York. Two Days Later.
The Stark Expo.
The atmosphere was electric. Thousands of people packed the Flushing Meadows park. The Unisphere glowed in the background.
Justin Hammer was on stage, dancing like an idiot.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Hammer shouted into the microphone. "For too long, America has relied on one man! I say... no more!"
Behind him, the floor elevators rose.
CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.
Rows of Hammer Drones appeared. The Army, the Navy, the Air Force, the Marines.
They were unmanned suits of armor, bristling with miniguns and missile launchers.
The crowd cheered.
Ren stood in the shadows of the tech pavilion, near the Japanese serenity garden. He wasn't cheering. He was stretching.
He wore a dark blue tactical hoodie and cargo pants. He checked his gloves—reinforced carbon fiber knuckles.
"Jarvis," Ren whispered to himself (mocking Stark). "Let's start the party."
On the stage, War Machine (Rhodey) landed next to Hammer. Then, Iron Man flew in.
"We got trouble!" Tony shouted over the speakers. "Drop the hammer!"
Suddenly, the drones' lights turned red. Vanko had taken control.
LOCK ON.
The drones raised their weapons. Not at the targets... but at Iron Man and the crowd.
"Open fire," Vanko's voice crackled over the PA.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
Chaos erupted. Rockets flew into the stands. People screamed, trampling each other to get to the exits.
Ren didn't run away. He ran toward the kill zone.
A Navy Drone landed in the garden, its shoulder-mounted rocket launcher tracking a group of civilians trapped near a fountain.
"Target acquired," the drone's mechanical voice buzzed.
It fired.
WOOSH.
A Hellfire missile streaked toward the family.
Ren moved.
He intercepted the missile path. He didn't try to catch it. He jumped, twisting his body in mid-air, and kicked the missile.
[CALCULATION]
> Object Velocity: 300 m/s.
> Impact Angle: 45 degrees.
> Leg Density: Tier 1.9.
CLANG.
His shin connected with the side of the missile. The metal dented. The trajectory shifted. The missile spiraled upward, harmlessly exploding in the sky.
BOOM.
Ren landed in a crouch. The drone turned its head, confused by the physics violation.
"Threat detected," the drone beeped. "Re-engaging."
It aimed its minigun.
Ren smiled behind his mask.
"Hit me," he whispered.
BRRRRRRRT!
The minigun roared. 50-caliber rounds chewed up the concrete around Ren.
Ren crossed his arms and charged.
He felt the bullets hitting him. It hurt. It hurt like hell. His skin broke, blood sprayed, his bones vibrated with the impact.
But the Heat was there.
The pain fueled him. The kinetic energy was absorbed, processed, and used to stitch his muscle fibers into something harder.
Step. Step. Step.
He walked through the bullet storm.
He reached the drone.
He grabbed the minigun barrel with his bare hand. The metal was red-hot from firing.
SIZZLE.
Ren's skin didn't burn. It hardened.
He ripped the gun off the drone's arm. SCREECH.
Then he spun and slammed the gun into the drone's head.
CRUNCH.
The drone collapsed, sparking.
[STATUS UPDATE]
> DAMAGE SUSTAINED: MODERATE.
> ADAPTATION: ACCELERATED.
> TIER 1.95... 1.96...
"More," Ren growled.
He looked up. Three more drones were descending.
This was the gym he had been waiting for.
End of Chapter 5