No small talk is made as the twenty-minute trip ends with the light feeling of touching down. Following Coulson as he exits the plane, I see that we are either underground, or in a huge ass building, as there are many other planes in the hanger like area, with many other personnel moving about. The red head also sticks with us as we head to an elevator. The elevator moves up after Coulson scans a badge and his iris with a reader against the wall. From there we emerge into a garage where a fully loaded pitch-black Humvee awaits us. As I climb in at Coulson’s gesture, I ask “How much more misdirection before we get said place to have our talk?”
It is the red head that answers me, “Operational security. You aren’t currently an agent of Shield, so most areas in the building are off limits, with those that aren’t such not being suitable for the dialogue that will be conducted, ie away from agents that will have no stake in this conversation, thus minimizing the chances of extra eyes and ears, as gossip, even in Shield is very much a thing.” She says, her face not showing any emotion except for a quirk of her lips.
“I never got your name miss? Small talk wasn’t on the menu on the plane ride over and earlier we were too busy trying to render the other unconscious.” I say with a snark to my voice offset by my grin.
“Since there is a possibility of us working together in the future, my name is Natasha Romanoff.” She answers and I see a little smile on her face.
Another five minutes later and we are pulling into a warehouse where there are two people waiting. I see that one is a bald black man with an eyepatch covering his left eye, wearing a trench coat. The other is a woman, white, taller and less curvy than Natasha, but with a very severe look on her face, like a short stick is being gripped in an uncomfortable place.
I give a look at Coulson as we climb out and he gets the cue as he makes the introductions. “Director Fury and Deputy Director Hill. This is Ranger, also known as Merric Oliver.” Coulson says as we walk a short distance to a round table.
“Coulson this is your show. Hill and I will only ask questions, or pose statements as needed towards the end.” Fury says he gives the floor to Coulson.
“Before any interrogative like questions are asked, let’s talk about what we, Shield, and you, both want Ranger. I’ll go first. We want to have you as an agent on the level of Romanoff, performing missions where your skillset would be an asset. We also hope that should certain situations happen, you will be willing to jump into the fray, particularly against those who also have powers but are choosing to use them to commit crimes and otherwise harm people. Other situations would include those that can and are inflicting high casualties and damage to property. In return Shield will provide resources including intelligence on where you can do the most good when not on missions. Other resources will include but are not limited to transportation, intelligence, and overwatch if wanted on your patrols, along with making your vigilante activities completely legal within certain regulations so that you can’t be legally arrested by various law enforcement groups. Regular payment for your services can later exceed ten thousand a month, with accommodation for living quarters to a point being included. Lastly, training, weapons, and armor. Despite what I have seen of you, no one is invincible, and having other options is always helpful.” Coulson finishes and I’m fighting not to let my jaw fall to the ground, my eyes to roll up into my skull, and my body to fall unconscious from the shock at the scope of what he is offering me. The fact that Fury, Coulson’s boss, didn’t refute any of that means this is all true, wow.
Before I answer as to my wants from this partnership, or who I would be reporting to, as it would be a huge hassle if even the lowest Shield agent thought that they could command me, Hill speaks up. “What are the limitations of your skills and abilities? Also, how do we know that you won’t betray us in the future?” As she finishes asking her questions, Fury leans forward a bit more, this possible information more than interesting him.
“I’ll answer the second question first. The answer is that you don’t know if I will betray you in the future. But that won’t happen so long as several things remain true. Shield staying on the side of good, not just for themselves or for one government, but for all that want to live their lives peacefully is the main caveat. So long as Shield is actually on the side of the angels, then you will have my support. The other main reason is that I wholeheartedly want to do good in this world, if you will believe my intentions. As to the first question, I truly don’t know what limits I have. I wasn’t born with these powers/abilities, but I still knew that I needed to do the right thing regarding them. I also know, though I won’t answer how I know, that there is more to come regarding my abilities, but I don’t know when or how to trigger that next level so to speak. Though my energy reserves are of substantial size, I eat a lot and I do mean a lot to fill my reserves from empty to full. When it comes to what Coulson has put on the table, that is far more than what I was expecting, but one big thing that was missing in that of what I want, full disclosure. If I am given a mission, I want the full details, including all objectives both optional and not. I also want to know if there are fellow agents either along for the ride or already on site, and such that there won’t be conflicting objectives to have us in confrontation during or after the mission. One last thing is a clear chain of command, with few knowing my full involvement/status. The reason is such that I’m not stupid, I know that my actions as a vigilante have and will continue to make some people hate me and or want to come after me for retribution.” My answers clearly give them reason to think, as I won’t just roll over. I see Fury looking a bit contemplative as he analyzes my answers, while Hill still looks way past constipated possibly due to me not just submitting. Coulson though is all smiles, while Romanoff gives off a weird hint of camaraderie.
Fury is the next one to speak up. “Coulson brought you to my attention due to a special force we are trying to put together, one that has been in the works for over a decade. One that he believes you would be uniquely suited for. While I won’t tell you why the need for this special force came about, I will tell you why we hope that we don’t need you for this, but that if we do need this special force, the world as we know it will be in the hands of you and your future comrades. Dangers to the world that no reasonable military force would be able to deal with in a reasonable timeframe, being one of many scenarios. Or in other words: A team of incredibly skilled and powerful individuals working together to fight the battles that we never could. While I dislike the active knowledge that you are keeping secrets from us, there is one that I would like the answer to. Is it possible for someone to replicate your abilities in the same manner that you received/ and or awakened them?”
“Not to my knowledge Director Fury. One of the great questions that pertains to beings everywhere, including animals, is do we have a soul? That metaphoric topic that so many can discuss that would still end up with them blue in the face is the questioning existence of such. I have no way to prove it, simply my belief that we each do have a soul, so unique that even if it were possible to examine the souls of ten quadrillion beings, that still no soul would be the same as any other. I have no idea why I ended up with these power/abilities, but I will use them to help people.” My voice is firm as I look him in his one eye.
“I can assure you that very few people will be in your chain of command. How you will accomplish the missions given to you unless otherwise told to do so in a certain manner will be up to your discretion. Besides the four of us here, there is only one other person who will be in the direct chain of command that you will have to worry about. Their name is Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye, and you will be introduced to them in the morning as Romanoff and Barton will be the ones overseeing your physical assessments. This way both you and us will know how far you can currently be pushed in your abilities. Agent Romanoff will escort you back to your apartment and tell you of any details for tomorrow along the way. After the assessment, we will get the necessary paperwork out of the way to make you an official Shield Agent.” Fury looks right back at me, never breaking the stare down as he delivers his words.
I take that to be my dismissal, stand up from my seat at the table, and in a condescending but gentlemanly manner, I hold my hand out to Natasha Romanoff. She takes my hand and tries to jerk me off my feet with a strong tug, but is instead surprised as I twitch my elbow back with some strength, pulling her out of her seat and almost having her crash into me as there is now maybe eight inches between us. I give her a smirk, and snarkily gesture with my arms for her to lead the way.
She gets into a blacked-out SUV, and as I climb in the front passenger side, she says, “You might want to change out of your disguise, you won’t be dropped off on the roof, but at the front door.” It is easy even while sitting to remove my cloak and the rest of my disguise. I look over at her after I finish ready to comment, and god damn, she is playing with fire as my jaw tries to reattach itself from dropping into my lap in a split second. The reason for this is that sometime between getting into the vehicle and me removing my disguise, her zipper has gone from her tight at her neck with her mission attire looking like it was sown on, to having moved four inches down and revealing a beautiful window of cleavage. I then look up and catch the smirk beaming on her face. Okay, point to her, but we are now tied as I count my reversing her stunt at the table to be a point in my favor.
(Back at the warehouse)
Hill drops the constipated look, but still has a serious expression on her face. She turns to Fury and speaks, “Are you sure that we can trust him, no military history, far below average in everything before becoming a vigilante, and talking crap about souls. Are we sure that he is a right fit for the Avengers’ Initiative?” She complains, though from what has been seen, he would qualify based physical ability alone.
“Coulson believes so and I agree. He is at super soldier levels with other abilities added in. He is not to our knowledge have had any experiments done upon him to his knowledge. He has also outright stated that there is more to come with his abilities. Eventually we will need the aid of what he can already do. Yes, he is a bit of a wildcard until we learn more. But his words, his passion, even his regret when he took the lives of scum, was real. I talked with Peggy Carter several times before she permanently retired, all about Captain America. I see several of the same traits in Merrick, as what she described to be prominent in Steve Rogers.” Fury then gets up and takes another blacked-out SUV to leave the warehouse.
Hill’s expression softens as she looks at Coulson, “You have known Romanoff longer than I have, have you ever seen her act like that around anyone when not on a mission? I’m confused because I swear that she was acting snarky and dare I say it, a bit flirtatious?” She ends with an eyebrow raised.
“For your information, Fury does the ‘confused eyebrow raise’ better. As for agent Romanoff, I have no idea what is going through her head, I’m not a mind-reader, nor am I a woman last I checked. It could be odd behavior, but then again, I’m not around her enough to know. You could simply ask her?” Coulson says with a grin on his face.
Hill glares at Coulson, before her face softens even more to a wistful contemplation. Her next question causes Coulson to miss a step, almost spilling himself to the ground as he moves to the Humvee. “How long do you want bet before they are fucking? Two, three months at the most?” Hill voices her crude questions.
After Coulson recovers his composure, he answers. “If he was a mission target, it wouldn’t happen. But with how close they will be working together? I would give it one year at the most. So, what is the wager, two grand?” Hill nods as they get into the Humvee and drive away.
(With Romanoff and Merrick)
Silence is the accord for the next thirty minutes as I keep myself under control, for there will be plenty of time for questions during the assessment training in the morning and in the future as we work together. Natasha drops me off at my apartment complex. “I’ll be right here, seven am sharp, don’t be late.” She says as she turns to me and gives me one last look at her window for the night.
I simply give her a two-finger salute and let myself out. I move to the elevator after entering the lobby and as it opens, I’m contemplating putting my head through a wall, for an incredible woman steps out and I swear that even without most of her unbelievable breasts bared to world, this woman is the spitting image of the cat burglar from the night before. Mid-back length white hair, heels high enough to turn her legs and ass into the ultimate dream. Her body is covered by this dress that had to have been painted on, as there is no rustle of fabric moving except for the slight flaring of her skirt as it reaches her knees. So incredibly sexy and so far out of my league, I’m not even in the same state by comparison. I’m pleasantly surprised though as she actually gives me more than just a first look, as she turns to look at me again as she passes me by before stopping. Then I’m even more surprised, almost missing a step with her words that match that natural seductive lisp from before, reaffirming her identity in my mind as she turns back towards me. “What is your name handsome?”
I offer her my hand as I say my name. “I’m Merrick. And you are? I’d called you stunning, but that is too tame a word for the vision that I see before me, and stellar doesn’t have that good of a ring to it.” My attempt at suave words seems to have an effect, as I see her pale skin darken with the blood of a blush on her cheeks.
“You can call me Felicia. I’ll see you around since we live in the same building.” She speaks. With that she turns to leave, and I swear that she is exaggerating her walk for my eyes only until she is out of my sight around the corner.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
I get back to my apartment, and according to the clock, it’s not even nine pm as I contemplate my life right now. Beyond the powers and the deal that I made with Shield, I have two women that are nines, almost tens on the hotness scale and they both seem interested in me. What the hell has my life turned into. One is a new coworker; the other is a thief that I caught in the act. I have fought with both, and both are very skilled combatants from what I could tell. It takes time but I have to not go down the rabbit hole of what ifs right now. I will endeavor to make my future the best that I can, and though my lower brain just wants one or if even possible, both, more thoughts on that will have to wait until I learn more about them.
Morning
My night was rough, from the visions of the two women that wouldn’t leave me alone, to making sure that I was mentally rested enough from having to abruptly change my sleep schedule. I still end up a bit irritable, but a smile works its way onto my face as I take the elevator down to the lobby at five minutes to seven, knowing that I will be meeting one of my visions in person yet again and for the foreseeable future. I step outside the lobby door to the outside world, and it is like she never left, for in the same place is the same vehicle she dropped me off in last night, the engine already running. The door is unlocked, and Natasha greets me with a togo cup of coffee in hand. With that same hand she gestures to another one in the cup holder. “No thanks, even before I got my powers, didn’t really like coffee, and now, well caffeine is of no use to me.” I say as I get a look at her attire. A dark blue short-sleeved shirt with the Shield logo emblazoned on the left part of her chest, it moves with her easily, and no cleavage window this time. I see evidence of a few bruises on her arms from when she full-on blocked my lighter hits. Pants, black and from what little I can see, painted on from the tight look.
Unlike yesterday, I don’t want silence. So, I took a dig at her appearance. “I didn’t hit you too hard last night did I, those bruises look painful.” I gave a grin at the end, only for her return shot to come close to scoring a point in our little game.
“Hopefully I can give you a matching set, and maybe all over while I’m at it. I was told to take a measure of your martial arts skills last night, whereas today, I won’t be holding back, so I hope you like eating the matt.” Natasha gives me a wide grin that has my stomach doing flip flops.
“In your dreams. Coulson has seen a bit of what I can do, and while last night showed more technique, there is still a lot more to go before this well is dry.” I laugh even as my eyes challenge hers.
More banter is had as the drive continues, charging the atmosphere between us. Maybe twenty minutes later, we arrive at a different place than where the Humvee ride originated from last night. A standard office building, taking up most of the city block, and rising at least twelve stories into the air. I follow Natasha into the bowels of the building and only as we reach the elevator do things start to seem different. She presses a sequence of buttons, and instead of going up, we move down eight sublevels. As the door opens, I’m greeted by what appears to be the entrance to a huge gym with signs to big locker rooms on either side. We walk into the main area and the only other person in the area is a guy reading a book as he leans against a machine. This guy is of average height, not much taller than Natasha. Slim with short light brown hair, attired in workout clothes. As we walked over, he put the book and way and greeted us.
“So, this is the new guy that we might be teaming up with on missions in the future huh. Well Merrick, let’s see what you got. I’m Clint Barton by the way.” He reaches a hand out to me in greeting, and wary of any little hazing he might try, I try as subtlety as I can to tense up in prep. I’m right to be wary as he tries to hip toss me onto the ground behind him when I shake his hand, but instead of me landing on my ass, he can’t even move me, as he doesn’t have enough leverage to complete the maneuver. I’m using my normal grip strength so as to not crush his hand but using fifty percent via the rest of my arm to prevent the movement. I lift an eyebrow at him as he tries for another few seconds, then gives up.
“So, instincts to not let your guard down are good, let’s hit the stations, starting with the heavy bag.” He says as if he didn’t just try to humiliate me. We head over to a high-tech punching bag, one that measures form and force generated.
“I won’t get grief if I break this from punching too hard, will I?” I ask both Clint and Natasha, who smirk at me.
“If you can hit this so hard as to ruin the machine in one punch, I’ll pay for your cafeteria meals for the next two years.” Clint says with a smile on his face so huge, like he is thinking that there is no way I can collect on that bet.
“Then you better pray for the soon to be death of your wallet. Let’s take some steps back so you two don’t get hurt.” I say with an equally big grin on my face, since with my appetite, I can eat so much and not have it affect me at all, it will simply be more fuel for the tank. I also hope that they aren’t kidding about me not having to pay for destroying the machine. At my return grin, both Natasha and Clint give each other an uncertain look. Basic physics lesson, mass times acceleration equals force impacted. I take forty steps back and crouch in a runner’s starting position. I bring my left wrist up to my face. A whisper of “Dino Thunder Red Innate’ is said just as I push off the floor in a red blur from the ability’s activation. Three steps away, I whisper to my left wrist ‘Dino Thunder Blue Innate’. This is done just as I bring my right arm forward, fist ready for a knockout blow (think superman punch) as I push forward off the floor. The blue scale like energy covers me just a half second before impact. With a thunderous crash, the bag and the machine it is attached to go flying, wrecking a few other machines from their passing, and then imbedding themselves into the wall with a crackle of electricity as the machine itself shorts out from the sudden stop of force due to the impact with the wall. Just before the screen blew out, the word ‘Tilt’ could be seen. I look over towards Clint and Natasha and I see their jaws are metaphorically gone, possibly to China at the most, but at least center of the earth.
Barton’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He shakily pulls it out and answers it. “Hello Agent Barton. We somehow registered a miniature earthquake localized at the gym. Can you tell us what happened as I have to wonder why new munitions weren’t tested at the firing range instead, like they are supposed to be?” The voice on the other end of the line sounds annoyed, like this is not the first time something like this has happened.
“I'll handle the explanation to maintenance. Sorry for the worry.” Clint hangs up the phone with a grimace as I sheepishly eye the destruction that I wrought, for this is the first time I have used those two abilities sequentially and maybe it should be the last time, unless I mean to vaporize something with one strike. I look back over to Natasha, and while the shock is gone, another look that I don’t quite know what to call is upon her face, and I don’t know if I should be worried, afraid, or eagerly look forward to the next time I see that look upon her face.
Just at that moment the elevator doors ding, as someone arrives on the floor. In walks Coulson, and his eyes quickly bug out at the destruction that was wrought.
“What is the real explanation, now please?” Coulson says as he gets his face under control, though the headache will remain for days to come.
“Unexpected result of power usage. I knew it would be incredibly strong from the basic principles, but not to that extent.” I confess, still with the sheepish look on my face.
“The testing today and in here, was just supposed to be for physical limits, not physical and power interactions. That is what the bunker in the countryside is meant for. Now I only have one question, who proposed the bet resulting in this destruction?” Coulson asks, arms crossed and left eyebrow almost disappearing as he crosses his arms.
Me and Natasha turn to Clint, who is already dreading the consequences as evident by his head hanging low.
“Well Laura will be upset by the number of extra missions that you will be going on, for oh I’d say the next six months. I will make sure that they are to the worst shit-holes imaginable. But that will be for later. Let’s get things back on track. Natasha, no limits once we start the match. Merrick, no powers, but use your judgement for your physical abilities.” Coulson says with a grin.
We move over to the sparring mats. Natasha preps by setting some melee weaponry from the wall close to the mat that we are using. We stand in our corners and with barely a look as Clint drops his hand, we are sprinting to each other from the fifty-foot distance separating us. I don’t put my speed to too much more than I was at last night, while Natasha was doing no sandbagging of her own, as her new speed just barely eclipse's mine as it is. There is still the delay between style switches from her as we travel all around the mat, but there are a lot more dirty moves thrown in by Natasha, such as pressure points, attempts at eye gouging, gratuitous nut shots, the works. I repel even attempts to get me into locks or grapples that would destroy a normal person if they were completed. I send her air-borne a few times as I purposely leave openings, just long enough for her to bite. Not all of them succeed, but the point is, I’m having so much fun. Even though I am limiting my strike strength as I don’t want to break her, I get in some dirty shots of my own. One such example is when I throw her away with one arm, the hand of the other arm snaps out in a light slap against her ass. That gets me an ‘are you serious’ look from her. After the third one in as many minutes, the look turns to annoyed. By this time, the match has been going on for over half an hour, and my breathing has only changed a minor amount. Natasha looks more than a bit exhausted and decides to up the ante. She backflips to where she put the weapons at, and a dagger comes singing my way the next moment. I catch it and flip it back towards her where she drops to her knees to avoid it, and swings a staff at my knees in response. I let it hit me, and surprise surprise, it does nothing, even with her not holding back on the strike strength, though the staff cracks and bends around my leg. It is at this point that Coulson calls an end to the ‘match’.
“I knew you were good, but last night didn’t do your skills justice. I think that you are the only one that can outlast her that I have ever seen before. Now, let’s get an actual measurement of your physical limits.” Coulson says as he directs me to an electronic bench-press machine.
“You goal is to keep the ever-increasing weight above the yellow line. The machine can’t go any lower than the black line four inches below the yellow line for safety reasons. Do five reps and we’ll add on fifty pounds each time until we find your limit.” Coulson says.
Fifty pounds is easy. The same for all the way up to seven hundred pounds, where it takes slightly longer, but I still push the five reps out easily enough. My arms start to shake as I hit thirteen hundred. Seventeen hundred is where I call it quits for now as it takes me thirty seconds to get those five reps.
We move on to more machines, like a treadmill, where I stop holding back my speed and deliver a two-minute mile consistently over the course of five miles. From there many other machines follow, including another heavy bag, which is torn from the chains holding it up after the tenth punch. We bypass the obstacle course in another big room, simply because my spar with Natasha shows that my reaction time and other attributes would see me through it very easily. There have been a few breaks, but for the first time since I got my powers, I feel sore and tired from how much I have pushed myself, and it feels amazing, along with the knowledge that with time, I will get even stronger. While there is not a human alive (enhanced or otherwise) that I know of that can take me down in a physical fight, that doesn’t mean that someone like that won’t appear in the future.
While except for the initial demonstration my special abilities haven’t been used, it doesn’t mean that there hasn’t been a lot of change in my energy gauge as I’m now at just over half my full gauge. Considering it has been more than four hours give or take since I stepped foot in the building, I’m not surprised, especially with how I have pushed my limits.
I decide not to make the quip to Natasha about possibly having her scrub my back as I’m handed a set of clothes to change into after I take a shower, as I don’t whether she will say yes, or if I will have to find out firsthand on if I am bullet proof.
Fifteen minutes later we head up to the cafeteria before doing the paperwork and other items for the rest of the day. I’m ready to have Clint start paying up on his part of the bet, and he has no idea what he is in for, ha ha ha.
As we move to go through the line, I grab two trays, and I get so much of kick as I glance to the side and watch the jaws start dropping. As one tray is finished being burdened with five plates, all piled high, Clint remarks, “You know that is going to be a waste of food, and they don’t go togo containers here right.”
“The tank that is my stomach needs filling, why do you think I got a second tray.” My grin could be a spotlight with how much I’m smiling as I start filling the second tray, for this will also be a test on if I can push the needle past the full mark, and how far I can do so if I can.
The second tray is filled, and I have what is probably twenty-five pounds worth of food between the two, and of all varieties. When we get to the register, I point at Clint with a thumb over my shoulder and say, “This and any future meals for the next two years are on Clint’s tab, curtesy of a bet.”
When the cashier hears that three-letter word, barely controllable giggling is heard, making me think that bets of this magnitude are either commonplace, or that Clint losing a bet is such a rare thing. While Shield provides meals to their agents free of charge, that is only up to a certain point as the total flashes at just over one-hundred fifty dollars once everything is rung up. Clint turns to me and says with a pointed stare on his face, “You have to finish it all or you will pay me back.”
“You going to ask your boss for a raise? Cause I think even if I only do two meals a week at this size, you’re gonna need it.” I quip back with a shit eating grin that only either dynamite or Natasha doing a nuclear option could remove, and I’m not too sure about the dynamite.
Over the next hour plus, with only breaks to get more water, the pile is mostly gone. No food is flying as I have manners and use them when I eat, creating minimal mess. We get more than a few onlookers, though some leave with nauseous looks on their faces as my pace, even with some urgency, doesn’t slow down as I stack the empty plates. As I eat and keep an eye on the gauge, it turns out the needle can be pushed past full, though with half of one piled plate to go, it is wavering fairly hard. Then it happens, I am just a few bites from finished and while the needle has stopped shaking though it is like trying to bend your finger back farther than it will go, for the first time in ages, I’m actually feeling stuffed and bloated. I finish the crust of the last slice of pizza, and look over to Clint, who has the look like the end of days isn’t just coming or already here but is in the shape of a huge dog that is going to slobber half a bowl of water all over him, and there is nothing he can do to stop it. I then put the nail in the proverbial coffin as with another grin and then opening my mouth to show that there is no food remaining there I say, “Cheer up, it will only get worse from here on out.” I say with a mocking tone.
While Clint goes to sulk and mourn the loss of both his wallet and mission down time, me, Natasha, and Coulson head up to the fourth floor for the paperwork.
My head is aching at the end of the two hours spent going through things. I also make sure to read everything handed to me to sign before I sign it, with questions for clarification asked frequently. At the end of it all I get my badge, clearance (level six provisionally), and the common codes and phrase list for day-to-day operations.
Natasha then drops me back at my apartment, but not much banter is had, as I am worn out from today.