“We don’t know the exact disposition of Eliza’s forces or what countermeasures she might have in place, but we can expect heavy resistance,” Steve said, gesturing to the map that was being projected onto the screen behind him.
It was early morning and we were all gathered together for yet another strategy meeting—this time, however, there was a tense edge to the atmosphere as we prepped for the mission to come. Our group seemed to just keep getting larger, with General Okoye now standing with T’Challa and Shuri, as well as the three sorcerers from Kamar-taj clustered on one side of the room. While I was listening and trying to internalise everything Steve was saying, most of my attention was taken up just trying to keep a lid on just how nervous I was. This was really it. We were going for it and I had absolutely no idea what was going to happen.
The exact location that the Ancient One’s tracking spell had pointed to lined up essentially perfectly with a Stark Industries’ warehousing facility in San Francisco’s Central Waterfront, right near Pier 80. There were limited avenues of approach and the building had relatively clear sightlines, but portals meant we could bypass most of that.
We’d already gone over the schematics, but there wasn’t too much to see. It was a large warehouse with some partitioned space for offices and other storage rooms—the kind that could be easily shifted around with minor construction works—so there was no guarantee what the internal layout would be like. And that was about all we were going to get, reconnaissance-wise. Satellite imagery was off the table, as was any other real pre-mission surveillance of our target. The element of surprise was paramount here, and anything that might have gotten us more detailed information on our target came with a risk that it would tip Eliza off that we knew where she was and give her a chance to either solidify her defences or flee.
As we went over the plan, every detail seemed to cause my anxiety to rise.
“The Hand’s status is unknown—Wanda’s confident that the assassins that Gao initially brought in were some of their most dangerous fighters, but they have an unknown number of other combatants,” Steve continued. “Among the things stolen during Eliza’s attack were two vibranium full-body habits and a handful of vibranium-based weapons, as well as raw materials that could have been used to produce more. We have to assume they’re well-equipped. As well as what was stolen from Wakanda, Eliza has access to all of Tony’s designs and Stark Industries’ holographic technology. Tony?”
Everyone’s attention shifted to the technologist and he shrugged. “She didn’t use many drones when she attacked the Great Mound, but she’s had the time and resources to produce them so we can’t assume that she hasn’t. She might be keeping them in reserve or stockpiling them. The Mark 45 suit is probably the biggest individual threat we’ll have to deal with—it wasn’t fully ready for deployment when she stole it, but she’s had more than enough time to finish it off. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s taken the opportunity to retrofit it with some of her stolen vibranium, either. Danvers and I should be able to handle it, either way, at least until Legolas is ready to take his shot.”
As he spoke, Tony picked up a metal case sitting on the table next to him and clicked it open, picking out one of two-dozen smaller, rounded containers from within and holding it up demonstratively.
“Contact lenses—they shift the wavefunction of light just enough to interfere with the way BARF constructs holograms. They’ll still be visible, but you’ll be able to see through them. Shouldn’t interfere with your normal vision.”
We’d already explained BARF to the sorcerers after they’d described the appearance that Eliza had worn for her heist—I wasn’t super happy she was running around looking like me. Tony passed the case to Killmonger, who took out a set before passing it along to the next person. The briefing continued as the case made its way around the room. When it reached me, I took a set and frowned. This was going to suck. I’d never been good at putting in contact lenses.
“Ghost is likely to be on-site,” Steve continued. “Don’t engage her in hand-to-hand if it can be avoided. Our best bet is to hit her hard and fast, from an angle she’s not expecting, so she doesn’t have a chance to phase out.”
“Leave her to me,” Pietro said confidently, leaning back in his chair.
Steve nodded, glancing in my direction. “There’s also the treatment chamber that Wanda described—if we can secure it, we might be able to force her to stand down.”
“Ghost prioritises herself over basically everything else,” I confirmed. “Eliza might be leading her on with promises of help with her condition, but if she thinks we might cut her off from her source of quantum energy she should back down.”
“Eliza herself cannot be underestimated as a threat in close combat, either,” the Ancient One spoke up. “In addition to her weapons, she’s an extremely skilled fighter.”
I blinked. “She is?”
The sorcerer nodded gravely. That was weird. I wasn’t a bad fighter, per se, but, even with the boost from the Heart-Shaped Herb, without any access to my chaos magic I wouldn’t really rate my chances in a proper fight with… well, essentially anyone here. Even Nat had a significant amount of experience fighting super soldier-level opponents. I might be able to take Clint, if he didn’t use any particularly sneaky trick arrows.
The rest of us exchanged a few glances. “JARVIS did have an active combat analysis module, though I didn’t need to use it often,” Tony said, a speculative edge to his tone.
Natasha suddenly straightened, a look of realisation on her face. She looked at me for a moment before turning her attention to Tony and Bruce. “The Taskmaster Protocol. The data we took from the Red Room?”
“Ugh.” I grimaced at the involuntary noise I’d made, my leg bouncing restlessly as my level of anxiety reached new heights. I’d forgotten all about that. How was this fair?! It felt like every time we even talked about Eliza she got stronger.
Bruce nodded slowly. “We were focused on dealing with the Widows’ chemical mind control so we hadn’t had much time to look over it, but yeah, we did get the Taskmaster Protocol and most of its associated data. I can’t see any reason she wouldn’t be able to use it.”
“Great,” said Clint, a little sarcastically.
Steve shook his head. “It doesn’t change anything, but it’s good information to have. We’ll just need to be conscious of it when engaging her.” He turned to the map again, hesitating slightly before gesturing at it with a hand. Three red circles appeared, highlighting specific locations. “One or more of the dragon flyers stolen from Wakanda might be present, so Carol and Tony will approach from the bay on a slight delay and intercept them or any other vehicles that attempt to flee. The main loading dock is big enough to fly a Quinjet through, so that’s the most likely place for them to be. The rest of us will be divided into three teams—one for each entrance to the building. We’ll use portals to drop in and breach simultaneously.”
Breaching was safer than portalling directly into the warehouse, given we didn’t know what to expect. She could have the whole place rigged to blow, for all we knew.
“Hawkeye, your primary target is the Mark 45. Don’t jump the gun—we’ll try to get Eliza talking first, see if we can get any more confidence in our guess about how she’s using it.”
Clint nodded. He was holding the nanotech arrow Shuri had given him, turning it over and over again in his hand, betraying a hint of nervousness. “Just one shot,” he said.
“One shot,” Steve agreed. “Make sure it counts. Don’t take it until we’ve confirmed the target and you’re absolutely sure you’re going to hit it.”
Oh, good, yes, please, frame it like that. No pressure.
Why had I thought the arrow was a good idea again? Were we really risking the outcome of the whole mission and put maybe all of our lives in the hands of fucking Hawkeye? Part of me knew that this was a sensible strategy that even the tactical minds of the team had agreed to, but the less-rational part of me was determined to nitpick whatever holes it could in our plan.
“Align with one of us before you take your shot, archer,” Mordo said, raising his voice so he could be heard. “We can provide a second chance, should you miss.”
I took a deep breath to calm myself, nodding along as he spoke. I hadn’t explicitly thought of it before now, but it was a good point—a ranged projectile could be redirected with a well-placed portal, much as I’d done with the spear Pietro had thrown during our fight at Avengers Tower. I’d have to keep my eyes open as well. This was fine. It was going to be fine.
Steve nodded as well, acknowledging the sorcerer’s words. “She’s likely to go after Tony directly,” he added. “Shadowing him might be the best bet for a clear shot.”
Tony let out a small snort of amusement. “You want to use me as bait?”
“Not as bait,” Steve said, shaking his head. “We know what her priorities are—we’re just planning accordingly.”
“I didn’t say I minded being bait.”
“I’m going, too,” Shuri said suddenly, her voice loud and firm.
“You are not,” T’Challa responded immediately, his head snapping around so he could stare at her, a little bit of surprise in his tone.
Shuri set her jaw. “We need her to commit to the fight, rather than flee. Stark might be enough to bait her on his own, but the two of us, together?”
“I do not care, Shuri. It is too dangerous,” he said.
“I know you want to help, Shuri, but your brother’s right. Eliza is extremely dangerous and we’re going in blind. We don’t know what sort of defences she’s going to have in place,” Steve interjected—he was trying to be helpful, but he’d put on his ‘talking to a headstrong child’ voice and I knew Shuri would respond to that about as well as I did.
“It’s too obvious,” Bucky chimed in. “She won’t expect you to come with us. If you do, it’ll be suspicious. It might spook her.”
Shuri frowned angrily, opening her mouth for a moment, then she re-considered whatever snarky response had immediately leapt to mind. “She might think it’s a trap,” she said instead, looking over in my direction briefly. “But would she really pass up the opportunity to disarm us as a threat entirely?”
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I wasn’t sure if she had looked at me with the assumption that I’d support her suggestion, but I spoke up anyway. “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t come,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s no guarantee this works. If things go really bad… we need to make sure we have a backup plan still around.”
Shuri glared at me for a moment before she looked around the room, presumably looking for someone who might back her up. Her expression darkened further, but she shut her mouth and didn’t argue the matter any further.
Steve nodded again. “Alright. That’s about it. Go gear up, make any final preparations you need to. We leave in thirty minutes. Oh-dark-thirty sharp.” I was still wrapping my head around the time zone differences, but we’d already talked the timing through and it’d be approximately ten in the evening in San Francisco when we arrived.
There were nods and murmurs of assent as the group broke into smaller clusters, most heading out to suit up and ready their gear. T’Challa and Shuri stepped to a corner of the room to speak to each other with lowered voices—still arguing over whether she would come, it sounded like. Pietro started to follow the main group of Avengers out, but stopped again when he noticed that I hadn’t moved yet.
My eyes were fixed on the Ancient One and the other two sorcerers. They were lingering as well, just standing together in a small group. What would they be doing for the next half an hour? Just… hanging out? Waiting? I was glad we had some additional help, but I still hated that they were here. Ostensibly they were here for Eliza, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have ulterior motives.
Seemingly sensing my gaze upon her, the Sorcerer Supreme turned slightly to return it and we regarded each other quietly. Pietro vacillated, looking between the two of us, an uncertain expression on his face. After a few seconds, I let out a small sigh and walked up to her. “So…” I said, drawing out the ‘oh’ sound. “Can I trust that the Masters of the Mystic Arts aren’t going to turn around and try to capture or banish me the second we’re done helping you get your book back?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light despite the anxiety clawing at my chest.
Mordo shot me a warning look, but a small, tight smile tugged at the corner of the Ancient One’s mouth. “The situation has not overly changed since your last visit,” she said. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to come back to Kamar-taj with us afterward?”
“Not a chance.”
“I thought as much,” she said, a touch of something unidentifiable in her voice. “Our truce remains. You have my word.”
“Good,” I said, nodding slowly. I wasn’t completely sure I trusted her word, but it wasn’t like there was anything else that she could say that would set my mind at ease.
“Eliza… an artificial intelligence, born from the Mind Stone, fighting the Avengers,” the Ancient One mused quietly, turning back to face the map of the warehouse that still dominated the screen on the far side of the room. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “The version of reality we find ourselves with is so divorced from the timelines I have observed as to be nearly unrecognisable at times. Still, there are similarities. Common points of reference.”
I bit my lip and nodded. Regardless of how much Eliza disliked being compared to Ultron, discounting the similarities between the two of them would be silly. “I’ve noticed that, as well.”
“The future you witnessed didn’t happen here, so history cannot repeat itself,” the sorcerer said. “But it seems it does still rhyme, from time to time.”
I let out a soft snort of amusement, shaking my head. “And so do you, apparently.”
She smiled faintly again. “So it would seem.”
“I… better go get ready.”
The sorcerer inclined her head silently and I stepped away, moving back toward Pietro. He fell into step with me as we headed for the Avengers’ temporary quarters.
--
Twenty minutes later, I stood resting my forehead against the cool metal of one of the Avengers’ lockers, my eyes closed, taking a few deep breaths as my stomach did its best impression of a washing machine. I was dressed and ready, wearing a loose dress cut from some rich, deep red cloth, with what I guessed were polished plates of vibranium armour adorning my shoulders, collar, and waist—T’Challa had at least been sensible enough not to expect Pietro and I to charge into battle wearing the Wakandan equivalent of prison fatigues.
I took another breath. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to fight Eliza. I didn’t want to send Wanda-3 to her probable death. I didn’t want any of this.
“Hey,” Nat said softly. I opened my eyes a crack, turning my head as she stepped in to lean against the locker next to me. “You okay?” she asked.
“No,” I said, honestly. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
A small smile tugged at her mouth. “You know, if you keep throwing up every mission, Tony’s probably going to start calling you Chuck or something.”
I groaned, the noise bordering on a whimper. “I’m such an idiot. I don’t know if I can do this.”
Her expression softened, a sympathetic look entering her eyes. She leaned forward, touching my temple with her forehead. “You’re not an idiot,” she said, quietly but firmly. “Don’t say that. This has been a really big mess and being an Avenger is hard. You can do this.”
“I’m not an Avenger, Nat,” I mumbled. “I really wanted to be, but…”
Nat pulled away, looking at me critically. I turned to face her, my shoulders hunched as I glanced to the side where Pietro and Clint stood waiting for us. Everyone was ready to go… I was holding them all up. “You know, for all the secret knowledge in that head of yours, sometimes you’re just absolutely clueless,” Natasha said affectionately, shaking her head. She glanced over at Clint briefly. “Being an Avenger isn’t being in a club. Tony doesn’t get to decide if you’re an Avenger. Steve doesn’t, either. That’s not how we started and it’s not what we are now. We’re Avengers because we don’t give up. Not even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. It’s putting yourself in danger—knowing you might not walk away—because you want to make a difference. You want to protect people.”
“But this… this is all my fault.”
Clint stepped closer, catching my attention. His expression was serious. “Nat’s right. Maybe it’s your fault. That doesn’t matter. Who cares? What matters is, are you up for this? We’re going up against a superpowered evil computer and our best plan is for me to shoot it with a bow and arrow,” he said, a touch of incredulity in his tone. “None of this makes sense. But I’m going to go because it’s my job. You don’t have to come. You could stay here. Hell, you could open a portal right now and run anywhere on Earth. But you’re not, are you? You’re coming. You’re putting yourself at risk to save people. To fight. If you come with us… you’re an Avenger. End of story.”
“…Things rhyme, from time to time,” I murmured quietly to myself. I straightened up, taking a deep breath to compose myself. Surprisingly, my stomach had settled slightly. “Alright. I'm good. Let's go kick some AI butt.”
--
“For the last time, no, Shuri,” T’Challa said firmly as we rounded the corner. The Wakandan prince was outfitted in his full Black Panther habit, his face covered by the expressionless mask as he barred his little sister’s way.
Despite the earlier consensus that she would not be joining us, Shuri herself was dressed for battle as well, lightly armoured with a gorget and skirt interlaced with polished vibranium plates and a pair of stylised panther blasters covering her hands. Her braids were pulled up in a tightly bound bun on top of her head, white warpaint dotted across her forehead and marking her lower lip.
She set her jaw, squaring off with her brother. “This is my decision, T’Challa, not yours.”
They weren’t alone. Okoye stood to one side, watching the argument—her expression was steady, but I thought I detected a small hint of concealed amusement in the twitch of her lips. The sorcerers were waiting patiently, incongruously sitting on antique wooden chairs with a low table between them, sipping on tea that I supposed they must have conjured or otherwise brought with them. Killmonger, Steve and Bucky had arrived already as well, but while they stood nearby they didn’t seem overly keen to get between the siblings while they quarrelled.
“I will not have my little sister used as bait. This conversation is over, Shuri. You will remain here.” Annoyance warred with surprise and disbelief in T’Challa’s tone—I got the feeling that he was unused to having her talk back to him on something like this.
Shuri was utterly undeterred, almost snarling as she spat her words at him. “I am not just your ‘little sister’!” she practically shouted, angrier and louder than I’d ever seen her before. “I am a princess of Wakanda! I have received the blessing of Bast! It is my right to defend my people, just as much as it is yours!”
“I just want you to be safe. You are still young, you have plenty of time to protect Wakanda.”
Shuri shook her head violently. “You want me to be safe but it is not safe for me here, brother. She has proven that over and over again. I won’t be safe until she is dead.”
I really, really hoped I was imagining it, but I could have sworn that Shuri’s eyes had flickered over to me for a brief moment as she spoke just then. I knew how much she and her brother disliked me, and a little part of me was anxious that she was counting Eliza and I as the same person when she said it. I suppressed a sigh. I still had to contend with Wakanda and the show trial they demanded of Pietro and I after we resolved this mess.
T’Challa paused, his mask concealing his expression as he regarded his sister silently. She stared back at him defiantly, shoulders set, her expression determined. After a few moments passed, T’Challa dropped his gaze, shaking his head. “…Baba is going to kill me. And he will be right to do so.” He gestured toward the rest of us with one hand. “Fine. You can come with us. But—”
“No buts. We fight side by side, brother.”
Okoye chose that moment to intercede. “I will guard her with my life, my prince,” she said, simply, but that seemed to be enough to put an end to the discussion. T’Challa seemed like he wanted to say something more, his jaw working, but after a moment he just nodded.
The sound of metal footsteps heralded Tony’s arrival as he entered the room along with the last few stragglers of our team. I took a few tentative steps into the room, looking around at everyone. Really just… looked, for the first time in what felt like a long time. It wasn’t quite a complete Endgame-level team up, but it was getting damn close, and nearly a decade early besides. I started to hum a familiar tune quietly under my breath.
The Mark 43 armour had taken a beating, but the chestplates had been replaced with vibranium fittings and Tony, Iron Man, wore it confidently as he walked in. Alongside him was Bruce—probably the plainest-dressed person here, just wearing a set of his usual plain outfits with pants designed to stretch to allow his transformation—and Carol, in full blue, red and gold Captain Marvel regalia.
On one side of the room, the trio of robed sorcerers from Kamar-taj stood up, their furniture sinking away into portals conjured beneath them—Mordo held the Staff of the Living Tribunal loosely in one hand, tucked behind his back, while Wong was similarly equipped with the Wand of Watoomb. The Eye of Agamotto hung from the Ancient One’s neck. Opposite them, the Black Panther stood alongside Shuri and Okoye in full Wakandan battle dress. Even fucking Killmonger, in a set of plated vibranium armour, stood checking over the sonic rifle he’d been given.
On my right, Natasha was wearing her black body suit, a little too bulky to call completely skintight—I thought I remembered her mentioning at one point that it was effectively a Kevlar variant, similar to Steve’s uniform. Her Widow’s Bites were on her wrists, bright blue strips of light along her arms and side. Clint was wearing a black and deep purple vest with one armoured sleeve, a two-fingered glove on the other hand. On my left, Pietro had been given a Wakandan-style outfit as well, black sports-style material with silver highlights and armoured gloves.
At the far end of the room, in the direction we were walking, stood Bucky, his metal arm polished, wearing a black, military-style load bearing vest and checking over an enormous machine gun he’d gotten from somewhere. Next to him, Steve, Captain America, was in his full uniform. I hadn’t noticed until just now, but the Wakandans must have repaired the shallow gouges that T’Challa had scratched in the surface of his shield—the surface now bright and unmarred. He glanced over and saw me looking at him. I held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small, determined nod. He gave me one in return.
This was… this was what I’d wanted all along, wasn’t it? What I’d been trying to do since Pietro and I had escaped from the HYDRA research base. For all my faults and failures, I’d still somehow gotten us to this point. It’d taken a little while. I’d stumbled. Made mistakes. There were still issues that would need to be resolved. It wasn’t perfect. But what was? Right now, looking around at the gathered heroes as everyone did final checks on their gear? I could practically hear the fucking theme music.
I reached into my pocket, pulling out Kaecilius’ sling ring, and slipped it onto my fingers, touching the Mind Stone at my neck for a brief moment before letting my hands fall back to my sides and reflexively tightening them into fists.
The quiet tone of an alarm sounded above us as the clock ticked over, declaring that the mission was on, but at first it almost seemed like barely anyone heard it. “Avengers!” Steve raised his voice to catch everyone’s attention, still maintaining eye contact with me, and my heart practically skipped a beat as everyone turned toward him. “Assemble!”
A surge of chaos magic coursed through me, wisps of red energy boiling off my body as my eyes glowed with power. My anxiety was gone completely, replaced with an unshakeable certainty that we were going to pull this off. “Let’s fucking go,” I growled under my breath, baring my teeth at Steve in a near-feral grin. I was an Avenger.
Eliza wasn’t going to know what hit her.