Post by DiscipleofBob on Aug 6, 2015 11:28:10 GMT -5
Agents of SHIELD #10:
Human Resources
Human Resources
[SHIELD Safehouse]
While the communicators used by SHIELD's top directors were impressive in their ability to project full-body holograms, Coulson always had the distinct impression the only reason for this technology was so Nick Fury could be even more intimidating than simply a loud voice or angry face. Despite the occasional electronic break or pixelated inconsistency, the hologram was detailed enough that Coulson could even see the bulging veins on Fury's bald head, which Coulson tried to ignore as he gave his report.
"We've captured over a dozen members of the Serpent Society and under power dampeners, and twice as many HYDRA agents..."
-"But you lost Viper."- Fury interrupted, unamused.
Coulson gulped. "Sir, considering the situation and who we were up against..."
-"I'm less concerned with the other team and more concerned with your own. Is it true Barton went MIA during the mission?"-
Coulson hesitated. "Not MIA, sir, just off-script."
Fury fumed, and Coulson could swear his dark skin turned a deep maroon. -"Damnit, I knew Barton would be trouble! I may not be able to fire that cocky asshole, but I can send him to go hunt polar bears in Antarctica!"-
"But sir, there are no polar bears in..." Coulson quickly shut up, realizing this was no time to be second-guessing the director's euphemisms and that was the point.
-"And not just Barton! Romanoff... Payne... I figured the Captain leading this kind of team would be like a sheep dog herding cats. Worst yet he's taking my better agents like Carol! Might as well put Barton in charge and go the full circus strategy!"- Fury continued to shout, and Coulson was just glad the spittle frothing at his mouth was only digital. -"Where's Rogers?! I want to hear what the Cap has to say about all this!"-
Before Coulson could answer or page the Captain, the door opened. "Captain Steve Rogers, reporting." He saluted before taking his position beside Coulson, who made a mental note to check how enhanced Captain America's hearing was.
Nick Fury took a few deep breaths. Apparently even he had to be at least slightly humbled by Captain America's presence. -"Rogers, I approved this team of yours on probationary status with my personal warning of what you were getting yourself into. Give me one good reason I shouldn't disband this team and install you somewhere more appropriate?"-
Captain Rogers took a small black box from under his arm and set it on the table, unlocking it and displaying its contents for the transmitter. "I think you might recognize this more than I would, sir." Fury was rendered speechless at the sight of many vials of glowing, multi-colored crystalline liquids. "We recovered this from Viper's meet, thanks to Barton's quick thinking."
-"Barton?"-
"Barton was our eyes into the operation. While the rest of us were making sure to follow SHIELD protocol..." Rogers emphasized almost sarcastically, enough that the commanding officer would get the hint but still be unable to protest, "...Barton was the one who adapted to the situation and bought us enough time to get into position. If Barton had hesitated to bring us up to speed, no one would have been ready in time to stop these from being distributed to the kids in there, and, based on what we saw, let HYDRA double their forces."
Fury was silent, trying to decide whether he should find a reason to continue to hammer into the agents and save face. "I know our objective was Viper, but we had to know ahead of time that she was always planning for SHIELD to show up, and therefore had an exit strategy or ten in mind. Thanks to my team, we avoided endangering the lives of any innocent civilians."
-"Innocent civilians who showed up to a HYDRA recruitment drive,"- Fury reminded them.
"And thanks to us, did not join HYDRA's ranks," Rogers quickly finished. "The team needs a little polish first, sir, but in my opinion we're what you need to fight HYDRA, with some support from the rest of SHIELD of course. Sir."
Fury's eye narrowed, glaring at the Captain, who only stood at attention unflinchingly like the soldier he was. A few moments of intensely awkward silence passed before Fury finally broke it. -"I'll send someone to pick up the package. We need to confirm exactly what HYDRA's packing for their recruits. Once we know what we're up against, I'll make my decision regarding your 'support'. For now I have another meeting to get to. We'll discuss this later. Fury out."- The hologram vanished as the communicator cut off, allowing Coulson to finally breathe.
"I have never seen anyone do that to Fury. We need you to show up at the next budget meeting."
"I'm going to be too busy with this team to attend budget meetings or anything else Fury sets up," Rogers replied. "I can't be there every time Fury feels the need to remind everyone who's in charge. That's why I picked you for this team. From now on, you need to be the one to handle Fury."
"You want me to handle Fury?" Coulson went wide-eyed. "You want me to handle Fury?"
"I'm relying on you to do just that," Rogers said, putting a strong hand on Coulson's shoulder. "Now I need to go and get up in the air."
Coulson turned, confused. "We don't have orders yet. Frank's still in recovery. Don't tell me this is a joyride."
"Hardly," Rogers said with a smile as he closed the case of glowing vials and grabbed it. "You heard Fury. We need to go get someone who's capable of analyzing the contents of these vials."
"That's not-"
"It's what I heard. Fury's sending someone down, and we need to go pick said someone up immediately," Rogers interrupted before leaving, "before Fury gets impatient and sends someone himself."
[SHIELD Quinjet]
The Quinjet's engines started to warm up as Steve Rogers boarded and took the co-pilot's seat. The most recent model aircraft he'd flown was an experimental jet in 1945, and while he was a fast learner, he wasn't that fast. He was still surprised to see the redhead in the pilot's seat. "Romanoff?"
Romanoff was already doing the pre-flight check. "You needed a pilot. I was available."
"I was expecting-"
"Captain Danvers? She's off-duty at the moment and probably catching up with her fiancé. Don't worry, I'm certified. Danvers may be the better pilot, but you don't need an ace just to go pick up a few assets from headquarters."
"How did you-"
"Gathering intelligence is my specialty, Captain. Not just on our enemies, but on us as well. Helps me anticipate my superiors' needs and be a better agent."
"Can I-"
"Finish a question? Certainly. I just wanted to get the important information out of the way as fast as possible." As Romanoff took the Quinjet up in the air, she and Steve sat in momentary silence as they were en route to the helicarrier. "You had a question, Captain?"
"Well, I'm not sure what to ask now. You got too far ahead of me, Romanoff" Rogers replied.
"Natasha," she said with a smirk. "No reason for us to be so formal all the time. Then how about I ask a few questions?"
"I wouldn't think you'd have any questions left. You seem to have all the answers already."
Romanoff shrugged. "I may have picked up one or two biographies about you for in-flight reading. Though when I first heard I would be serving under Captain America, I was convinced Coulson was playing some sort of practical joke."
"Coulson's a jokester?"
"Not at all. It was just that unbelievable. For comparison, imagine being told that your first assignment would be under... Ulysses Grant."
"I guess. Still hard to believe that I'm some kind of historical figure."
"For a man who's been absent 70 plus years, you seem to be adapting quite well," Romanoff complimented.
"I've always been a fast learner. Especially after the serum. On the front lines, adaptability is a necessity. I got used to dealing with tech that looked like it was ripped out of a science fiction book every day dealing with HYDRA. The flying aircraft carrier is a bit much, but I guess the culture shock isn't as bad when you have a mission to focus on."
"I know how that is. Infiltrating far beyond the front lines. Going deep cover. It can be exhausting without focus, patience, and flexibility."
Rogers thought he caught a bit more emphasis on 'flexibility', but dismissed it as him hearing things.
"May I ask you a personal question, Captain?"
"Steve. We're being informal, aren't we?"
"Too true," Natasha smiled. "Given you are a man from 1945, I would not have expected your choice of team to be so... progressive."
Rogers went stone-faced. "If there's one thing I learned from our enemies in the war, it's that a mission statement founded on prejudice of any kind was doomed from the start. I served with people of every race, country of origin, and gender. I learned real quick that none of that has any bearing on our value as human beings. Sometimes I think the War might have been averted if the Germans learned that sooner. Hell, my CO was a woman, and she terrified me more than Hitler, Red Skull, or any Nazi or HYDRA agent."
"That's refreshing to hear. But not quite what I meant."
"What did you mean then?"
Natasha hesitated. "As you probably know, I work mostly solo missions. SHIELD may be international on paper, but the majority of its agents are American or American-leaning. Most agents have backgrounds with the FBI, CIA, or NSA. As such, they are very quick to form opinions when working with a former..."
"KGB operative?"
Natasha winced. "I was going to say Russian assassin."
"I don't see why. From what little I've seen already, there are plenty of people in SHIELD who are by no means boy scouts. Soldiers, mercenaries, former criminals, whatever you'd call Barton," Steve explained as Natasha let out a chuckle. "We're not all that different. There are very few people in SHIELD or any military organization outside of research, medical, and support personnel who don't have at least a few kills under their belt."
"It's more the Russian part they have a problem with," Natasha replied. "A lot of these agents grew up during the Cold War and started their careers during the tail end of it. Even today, there's still a lot of bad blood between Russia and the U.S."
Captain America shrugged. "Sorry, I haven't gotten a chance to completely catch up on the last 70 years yet. Last thing I remember before taking an ice bath the Russians were on our side against the Krauts and Japs. Now as I understand it, there's a whole different chart of who hates who, but as far as I'm concerned those details are secondary to the fight against HYDRA. I may be 'Captain America' to a lot of folks and wear a uniform modeled after a flag, but the fact is most of my service in the War was international with all the Allies. The Brits, the French, the Ruskies, even people from occupied territories." He paused before continuing. "I understand SHIELD employs agents from countries all over the world. Would you say you still have any loyalties to Russia?"
"Absolutely not," Natasha quickly answered. "My loyalties are to Fury and to SHIELD, and now to you."
"Then I'll do my best to prove myself worthy of your loyalties. You're not the only one here with something to prove." Steve smiled at Natasha, and was returned with the same. "So, you're the one who apparently has all the answers. What have I missed since 1945?" It would be a long flight to the helicarrier, but at least they had something to talk about.
[SHIELD Helicarrier]
The arrival of Captain America and the Black Widow had not been expected, and there were apprehensions at first on whether they'd be allowed to land. At least SHIELD's security was tight enough not to automatically let anyone on board. Romanoff was quickly able to verify their credentials and a runway was cleared for them. That didn't stop a team of agents from meeting them as they got off the plane.
"We don't have your arrival on schedule," the lead agent said, almost instantly losing his confidence once Captain America stepped off the jet.
"Last minute. Need to pick up some resources and personnel for the strike team operations. We won't be long," Rogers replied as he extended a handshake. "Agent...?"
"Salinger. Agent Salinger." He was star struck, just as Coulson had been.
Captain America nodded, "Salinger. Unfortunately, we don't have that much time to stay. Agent Romanoff will fill out the appropriate paperwork. I need the Quinjet fueled and ready to go as soon as possible."
"I'll need Director Fury to sign off on-"
"Director Fury is busy meeting with heads of state. Surely you don't expect someone who's probably having dinner with the President to sign off on every requisition order in SHIELD?" Rogers said sternly.
"Well, n-no..."
"No, what?"
"No, sir!"
Rogers smirked. "Good to see military discipline hasn't changed in the last 70 years. We'll be taking three personnel and supporting equipment. See to it that all the equipment has the necessary personnel to load it up."
"Yes, sir!"
"Also, I need to know where I can find Tony Masters," Rogers added, much to the sudden horror of the agent.
"You want the Taskmaster?"
"Is there a reason I shouldn't?" Rogers asked nonchalantly.
"Well, sir, that might be a problem. Masters isn't a SHIELD agent, he's an independent contractor. He helps train our agents in hand-to-hand combat, but he doesn't do field work."
"Then I'll just have to convince him to make an exception," Rogers assured the agent. "Keep up the good work. See Agent Romanoff if you have any questions," he added, assuring that the agent wouldn't have any questions worth bringing up.
[SHIELD Helicarrier Dojo]
When Tony Masters accepted his original offer to work for SHIELD, one of his requirements was a training space made to his specifications. No fancy holograms or life model decoys, just a simple Japanese dojo, though it had been decorated with elements of gyms and martial arts training areas from around the world to Masters's liking. The walls still had hidden compartments for multiple training weapons and other equipment. There was just enough cleaning and polishing to do to keep his mind occupied between training sessions, either with SHIELD agents or by himself.
Masters had earned a reputation enough notoriety among the SHIELD agents that he was generally avoided unless someone was being ordered for more training, or punishment. When the door to his quarters slid open, he caught the appearance of his visitor in the reflection of a Chinese sword. "I was wondering when ya'd show up on my doorstep." He turned to face Captain Rogers, amused at the super soldier's presence. "Funny, I thought you'd be taller. What d'ya want? Ya here for a sparring lesson?"
"Among other things," Rogers replied with a smirk. "I'm a little rusty and could use a crash course or two. Just to get me back in top shape."
"Somehow I doubt that," Masters replied as he resumed cleaning. "If yer lookin' fer me to join your little league team, I don't do field work anymore."
Rogers shrugged. "Fury just recommended I stop by when I had a chance. Guess he figured I could give you a few old-school pointers."
Masters knew he was being baited. It wasn't even remotely subtle. Still, the prospect of getting to go toe to toe with a legendary super soldier was rather tempting. "Listen, boy scout, every week I get a dozen new agents to try and turn from pencil pushers into lethal weapons in eight weeks. Sometimes less. Most often they're lucky to get out o' here with a basic understandin' o' how to throw a punch. Sometimes they don't leave with all their bones intact. Most of 'em think they're James friggin' Bond when they come in here, and it's my first job to teach a little humility. Don't think I won't do the same to you just 'cause you punched some Nazis."
"No worries. I get it," Rogers said before adding, "You must know all about humility when all you fight are rookie agents."
Masters immediately stopped cleaning the sword in his hands and put it away. "All right, step on the mat. You all right with bareknuckle or should I go get the kid gloves for you?"
Rogers and Masters both stepped up. "Whatever makes you comfortable. Any in-house rules I should be aware of?"
"Try to not get hit," Masters replied. "Challengers get first shot." Rogers put up his fists, but Masters remained completely loose and relaxed. "I'm waiting."
A little surprised at Masters's lack of guard, Rogers reluctantly threw a left jab, expecting Masters to block or weave. Instead, his fist struck right in the jaw. Masters kept his footing though, a trickle of blood pouring from his lip. "That all you got, soldier boy?"
"Just making sure you don't break a hip," Rogers said as he threw another quick jab. This time Masters easily weaved to the side, his arm wrapped around the jab, and instantly Rogers was flipped over on his back.
"I hope ya didn't think we were just going to be boxing," Masters chuckled as he allowed Rogers to get back up for another round.
Rogers put his dukes up again, threw a right hook, got flipped over again, but this time in midair his legs wrapped around Masters's head and torso and threw him across the room. Masters managed to right himself in time to land in a crouching position as Rogers leaped back up. "I've picked up a few things in my time. Judo's nothing new to me."
Masters chuckled. "What do ya say we both stop holding back and fight for real? All this play-fightin' is doin' is makin' me itch for a real brawl."
Rogers smiled, and, with mutual understanding, the two lunged at each other. Rogers swung a right hook, twice as fast as his previous punch as he immediately followed through with a roundhouse kick. Masters ducked underneath the punch, bending down with mantis style kung fu to get under Rogers's guard and possibly sweep the leg. But the super soldier knew better than to leave himself so exposed, and kicked his last leg on the ground into a midair spin and pivoting his leg around into a full momentum kick to Masters's sternum. In lighting quick response time, Masters was already balancing on his hands and spinning his legs in a capoeira stance. Both combatants struck the other with a strong enough kick to send them both flying into opposite walls.
Both were quickly back on their feet and rushing to the center of the ring. Rogers was stronger, faster, better in every physical way, but Masters could still keep up. He didn’t need a super soldier serum to maximize the potential of his body and he knew exactly how to move to avoid the bulk of Rogers's attacks.
Where Rogers had the physical advantage, Masters was more experienced, had a far more extensive knowledge of martial arts, and could read Captain America's every movement like a book. But knowing what was coming and being able to block or dodge were two very different things. When Rogers used kickboxing, Masters countered with muay thai. When Masters tried to use judo to use Rogers's strength against him, Rogers countered with Russian sambo.
"You know, I'm having trouble understanding on how someone like you can just stay on the sidelines," Rogers said as he tried to wrestle Masters into a pin. Unfortunately, in order to get an answer he had to loosen his grip just enough for Masters to get an opening and slip out.
"Sorry to disappoint ya, Cap, but the only reason I'm even workin' for SHIELD in the first place is the steady paycheck," Masters casually replied as he elbowed Rogers in the plexus and rolled away.
"I don't believe that," Rogers said as he leaped in the air and swung his foot down, forcing Masters to back up and crash where he had been a split second ago. "If you were really so cynical I'm sure there are plenty of privately wealthy people who would love a mercenary of your skills." Switching to the French style La Savate, Rogers continued to leap into the air and deliver a barrage of powerful, punishing kicks.
"I did that for a while, worked for rich assholes with enough money to spend on me, train their guards the same way I'm paid to train SHIELD agents today," Masters said as he backflipped back, kicked off the wall, wrapped his legs around Rogers by the neck in mid-air and swung him back down. "But I don't anymore. Job market's too volatile. No one wants to hire the best of the best when they can get expendable idiots for peanuts. Probably idiots I trained for two weeks just so they could say 'the Taskmaster' trained them."
Rogers tried to get Masters in another wrestling hold, but the Taskmaster was slippery, dodging Rogers's serum-fueled arms until he got in a sharp uppercut to Rogers's jaw, sending him reeling. "At the end of the day, most mercenary work these days gets ya blacklisted by at least one country I would someday like to vacation in. Too much competition. I wasn't getting enough pay to cover my overhead, and there's really no upside to be an underpaid merc. All of the risk, none of the reward."
Rogers quickly bounced back, literally as he threw both legs simultaneously at Masters, hopefully guaranteeing a successful strike or getting back up on his feet. "So you'll take none of the risk and some of the reward?"
Masters gave as little ground as possible as the two continued to trade blows. "Anything wrong with wantin' to live to see retirement?"
"If you were just in it for the money, why not be an accountant?"
Masters scowled as he parried another flurry of punches and dodged another upward kick. "My brain's hardwired for one thing: fightin'. I wouldn't be any good to anyone pushin' pencils. Little secret about SHIELD, you can tell the pay sucks because nearly every agent here won't shut up about how damn patriotic they are and how they're helpin' to save the world. No one joins SHIELD for the pay."
"Why did you join SHIELD?"
"For the 'steady' part of a steady paycheck. Regimes and terrorist cells eventually fall, and often have the bad habit of skimping on the bill, but SHIELD always makes good on their word because it actually means somethin' to 'em," Masters said as he grabbed Rogers by the arms into a lock and started repeatedly kneeing him in the torso. Rogers took a few shots before rolling backward, planting his foot into his opponents' chest, and tossing him back. Both fighters briefly surveyed one another, and neither had even broken a sweat. Not for lack of trying, but it would take more than any amount of sparring for either of them to get a real workout. "Why don't you go and grab that famous shield of yours? Make this real interesting?"
"Sorry, I left that back on the ground with the rest of my team," Rogers shrugged and grinned, his trump bargaining chip finally into play. "You know, if you did want to get back in the field, I could use someone to run my team through drills. They're all excellent fighters individually, but get them together and they're..."
"Oil and water?" Masters finished bemusedly.
"Exactly. It'd take a real professional to be able to whip them into shape as a team."
"And 'Captain America' can't do that?" Masters jokingly taunted.
"Hey, everyone who ever served under my command already had their training from one point or another. I didn't have to worry about them going off half-cocked. Well, for the most part anyway..."
Masters sighed. As much a pain as this was going to be, the potential rewards were greater than any financial compensation. "I join your team, I get REGULAR one-on-one fights. Absolutely no holding back. I want to fight the legend."
"Now that I know for sure you can take it and dish it back out in spades, that won't be a problem," Rogers said as he extended his hand to shake on it. Masters hesitated for only a brief second before accepting it. "You won't regret this."
"Maybe not, but the rest of your team might," Masters said with a smirk.
To be continued...