Marvelous Pals #50

Dugan shifted awkwardly, glancing between us, clearly feeling he should say something but unsure what.

Fury turned his attention back to me, his expression serious. "It’s about HYDRA. I need concrete proof that they still exist, or at least where to find it."

I raised an eyebrow. "You already have Bucky Barnes. Once he's cured by Professor Charles, he'll give you all the proof you need."

"Maybe," Fury conceded, "but Xavier said the process will take time, which I don’t have."

I crossed my arms. "Your point being?"

"If HYDRA still exists as you say, then they’ve realized something’s afoot. They might be working to hide their trails or eliminate those who aren’t loyal to the organization," Fury explained. "I need to know exactly who I'm fighting in order to win, or it’ll be checkmate before I even get a chance to make a move."

I sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "I don’t see how that’s my problem."

Fury's eyes narrowed. "HYDRA is in a position to dominate the entire world. That’s everyone’s problem."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Not my problem. Worst case scenario, I can switch sides and work with HYDRA."

Dugan's eyes widened at my words, clearly shocked by the suggestion.

Fury, however, didn’t flinch. "You don’t believe that."

"Care to try me?" I challenged, a smirk playing on my lips.

I wasn't lying when I said I'd switch in the worst-case scenario, that being if HYDRA were to win and I’d have no choice but to turncoat. But Fury didn’t need to know that, and it wouldn't happen anyway. I wouldn't allow it.

In the movies and the comics, the good guys always win in the end. The only reason for that to ever change would be my presence—a simple variable and the butterfly effect—but I wouldn’t let my mere existence shift the course of the entire world to the worst.

I don't have a savior complex, and I don't get off on selfless acts of righteousness. I have no obligation or desire to right every wrong in the world, nor am I delusional enough to think that’s even possible. But I didn't want to make the world a worse place simply by existing.

Fury and I stared at each other for a while, neither of us flinching. Finally, Fury grunted and reached into his coat, retrieving a flash drive. He tossed it to me. "You wanted to know who tipped off Kraven. The contents of that thumb drive will tell you all you need to know."

I caught the drive in midair, a smile tugging at my lips. Still, I wasn’t entirely satisfied. "And what about the Spider-Man situation?"

Fury’s expression remained stoic. "I sent people to contact him, but vigilantes aren't exactly easy to track down."

I nodded, understanding the challenge. "And the trackers I asked to be placed on Tony Stark?"

Fury shook his head. "That's an impossible task. But we convinced him to accept a bodyguard who’s carrying trackers."

I chuckled, somewhat impressed. "Resourceful. I’ll give you that."

"Don't mistake it for compliance," Fury warned. "We’re on the same side for now, but my patience has limits."

"Then I'd better not test it," I replied, my tone even but charged with underlying tension. "I have a name and a location for you: Alexander Pierce and a secret bunker beneath Camp Lehigh."

Fury's frown deepened, suspicion etched into his features. "Are you saying you already knew Alexander Pierce tipped off Kraven?"

I shook my head. "I didn't know that. But from what you just said, it sounds like the contents of the flash drive point to Pierce?"

Fury’s one good eye narrowed, scrutinizing me. "That's a rather convenient coincidence," he said, trailing off. "What role does Alexander Pierce play and what will I find in Camp Lehigh?"

"Pierce is a high-ranking HYDRA member," I said, watching Fury's reaction closely.

"Keep a close eye on him, and you'll start piecing together HYDRA's plans. As for Camp Lehigh, you'll find all the evidence you need of HYDRA's existence there, along with records of everything they've been doing since the Cold War." I chuckled and added, "You’ll also find an old friend of yours there."

Fury's eye flashed with curiosity and frustration. "Elaborate."

I shook my head, a smirk playing on my lips. "I don't think I will. I've already given you more than enough to go on."

Fury grunted, clearly displeased but recognizing that I won't give him anything else. He turned away reluctantly, heading back to the helicopter. Dugan, still looking uncomfortable, watched him walk away.

Before he could climb into his seat, I called to Fury, causing him to pause. "A word of warning; HYDRA's people might have some doubts about you right now, but once you start poking around Camp Lehigh, they will come after with everything they have..."

Without bothering to wait for a response, I also turned away and headed to the mansion. "You better sleep with one eye closed... well, you know what I mean."

...

Tony Stark sat in the back of the Humvee, absently tapping his fingers against the leather seat. The arid landscape of Kunar Province stretched out before him, a seemingly endless expanse of rocky terrain and sand. He was dressed in a sharp suit, a stark contrast to the military gear of the soldiers surrounding him.

The convoy moved steadily, the sound of engines and the occasional crackle of military radio the only interruptions in the otherwise silent journey.

The three soldiers in the Humvee, including the driver, a woman named Lieutenant Carson, were silent and tense. Stark’s bodyguard, an imposing figure assigned by Fury, sat next to him, his eyes scanning the surroundings with unwavering vigilance.

The soldiers seemed intimidated by Stark, aware of his larger-than-life reputation, keeping a certain distance from him.

Sensing the tension, Stark decided to break the ice. "So, anyone here ever ride in a car that wasn’t military-issued? No? Just me? Well, let me tell you, this is quite the upgrade from a limo."

Carson glanced at him in the rearview mirror, a hint of a smile breaking through her stern expression. "You’re a long way from home, Mr. Stark."

"Tony," he corrected, flashing a charming smile. "And yes, but I hear the desert air does wonders for the complexion. Speaking of which, what do you guys do for fun around here? Sandcastle competitions? Maybe a little off-road racing?"

The soldier riding shotgun, Corporal Davis, chuckled. "Mostly just try to stay alive, sir."

Stark laughed. "Well, that's a good start. So, do any of you have burning questions for me? I mean, how often do you get to ride with a billionaire genius playboy philanthropist?"

The soldier in the back, Private Thompson, hesitated before speaking up. "Is it true you dated that model... uh, what's her name? Jessica?"

Stark smirked. "Jessica, Cindy, Emily... I've lost count. But yes, Jessica and I had a brief, passionate... discussion about... well, I can't really remember, but you get the idea."

The soldiers laughed, the tension in the Humvee dissipating. Stark had a way of making people feel at ease, his charisma almost palpable.

"Is it cool if I get a picture with you, sir?" Corporal Davis asked, his professional demeanor slipping for a moment.

"I think that's very cool," Stark said, putting on a smile. "Selfie time!"

They huddled together, smiles wide as the Corproral retrieved his phone and snapped the photo. For a moment, the war-torn landscape outside seemed a distant memory.

Suddenly, the peaceful moment was shattered by the sound of an explosion. The Humvee lurched violently, the deafening roar of a rocket-propelled grenade echoing in their ears. The convoy was under attack.

"Ambush! Return fire!" Lieutenant Carson shouted, her voice filled with urgency as the humvee came to a screeching stop.

The soldiers sprang into action, Davis and Thompson jumping out of the vehicle, weapons ready. Stark’s bodyguard pushed him down, shielding him as bullets began to riddle the Humvee. The sound was deafening, the metallic clink of armor-piercing rounds cutting through the vehicle like a hot knife through butter.

"They have armor-piercing rounds and artillery! We need to get you out of here, sir," the bodyguard yelled, pulling Stark towards the door.

They scrambled out of the Humvee, the bodyguard leading Stark towards a boulder for cover. Davis was the first to fall, struck down by a sniper’s bullet as he returned fire. Thompson followed shortly after, a burst of gunfire cutting him down as he tried to flank the attackers.

"Stay low!" the bodyguard commanded, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

As they reached the boulder, the bodyguard was hit, a spray of blood marking his fall. He gritted his teeth, pulling a small injector from his pocket. "This... will help," he gasped, before plunging the needle into Stark's neck.

Stark felt a sharp sting, his vision blurring for a moment. "What... what the hell?" he asked, panic rising in his voice.

"Keep... running... they... will find..." the bodyguard whispered, his strength fading as he slumped to the ground, his sentence unfinished.

Stark's heart pounded in his chest as he stumbled away from the Humvee, the world around him a cacophony of gunfire and explosions. He ducked behind another boulder, his breath ragged as he tried to make sense of the chaos.

Then, he saw it—a rocket-propelled grenade flying towards him, the letters STARK emblazoned on its side. Time seemed to slow as the rocket slammed into the ground beside him, the explosion throwing him backwards.

Pain seared through his chest, and he looked down to see his shirt soaked in blood. The world began to spin, the sounds of battle growing distant. His vision darkened, and he fell to the ground, consciousness slipping away.

The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was the stark blue sky above, a cruel contrast to the chaos below. The world faded, leaving only silence and pain.