The sleek Porsche Boxster S flew over the crowded streets of Midtown- literally.
A light snow was falling, soft gentle flakes whipping across the windscreen as the car's driver pushed the Mark VIII sports car to its limits. The car's air cruising speed had easily topped 100 MPH, and as the driver glanced at the digital readouts scrolling and flashing across the paneled aluminum dashboard, he saw that he had leveled out at about 125. The driver- pilot- flipped a switch on the steering column, ignoring the windshield wipers as they sprung to life, pushing away the slush created by the wind screen's thermal heating unit.
His attention was divided between actually controlling the Boxster's flight and reading the latest updates on the car's internal computer link. He knew that the onboard computer would compensate the Porsche's simplest maneuvers, so long as he did nothing flamboyant. An external sensor array would warn him, overriding his monitor screen with potential hazards long before they would become a danger, presenting a concise list of possible solutions and waiting for a voice-triggered response that the computer would then engage. Under normal circumstances at any rate-
Colonel Nicholas Joseph Fury was hardly normal, however. As the current Executive Director of the newly renamed S.H.I.E.L.D. LLC- Security, Hazards, International Espionage, Law-Enforcement, and Detection Limited Liability Corporation- it was his job and duty to keep the world safe from the likes of terrorists, super villains and spies, among other things for the right price. He was the world's foremost peacekeeper, heading the world's leading intelligence agency, and as such, had little time to call his own. Overshadowed by the glory of keeping the planet safe were the more tedious and laborious drudgeries of his day-to-day grind, however; stacks of administrative paperwork, inspecting troops and installations, and- case in point- working the bugs out of his latest company car.
Fury hated busy work though. S.H.I.E.L.D. employed hundreds if not thousands of low-level technicians and mechanics to build and field test things like the Mark VIII Flying Car, and Fury had been a little put-off when Sidney Levine had presented him with his latest vehicle earlier that morning. The 'Gaffer', or Gaff as he preferred to be called had given Fury the run down on the car, which was vastly improved over the last Mark VII, and far removed from the Ferrari 330/P4 Berlinetta that Fury had driven years ago.
The Porsche Boxster S was a sports car of remarkable quality and capabilities on its own, without SHIELD's special modifications. The car ran at almost 7000 rpm's and could go from 0 to 100 KPH in less than six seconds on the ground. Better, it could almost stop on the proverbial dime, dropping back to zero in an astonishing three seconds under ideal conditions. Fury had quipped that in his line of work, conditions were hardly ever ideal, but had remained silent when his joke had gotten no response. The Gaffer was all business when business was at hand, and Fury knew that the lower level techies were too scared to breathe in his presence, let alone crack a smile.
The Gaffer had gone on without missing a beat, explaining the car's capabilities in droning detail. A flight speed of better than 700 KPH with a climbing rate of 300 meters per minute to a ceiling of almost ten miles and a range of six hundred before the power cells had to be recharged. The Porsche ran off a six speed manual gear box controlling the powerful engine and included all of the Porsche's standard basics- a four piston monobloc braking system, Porsche side impact safety protection system as well as the Porsche stability management system, all of which had been modified by the Gaffer of course, improved to endure the wear and tear that Fury generally imposed on his cars.
The Boxster S seemed overloaded with all of the basic S.H.I.E.L.D. upgrades as well and while the Gaffer had explained each and every one in meticulous detail, Fury quickly came to realize that he might need a scorecard to keep everything straight. The sports car was equipped with SHIELD's patented jet wheels, each in itself a small turbine engine designed to give the car its lift, utilizing the same mechanics that kept SHIELD's Helicarrier fleet in the sky with its vortex beams, actually nullifying gravity to a point. The chassis of the Boxster was airtight and armor plated against anything short of heavy artillery. It was sleek and smooth, not compromising the car's original design, which Fury liked, and was incorporated with the Gaffer's own color changing rheostat, giving the car's outer shell an array of color options across the light spectrum and including a transparency that almost made the Boxster invisible. At the speeds the car could attain, it would appear as little more than a blur while in soundless stealth mode, and would be totally invisible at night while driving with radar or the infra red sensors built into the headlights.
Of course the car was equipped with an arsenal of weapons. Loaded for bear was an understatement, that is unless the bear was the size of Godzilla. Fury shuddered, quickly dismissing the bad memories of that fiasco as he had paid special attention to the Gaffer's instructions concerning the car's weaponry. Fury had horrific visions of accidentally shooting a passenger into the East River with the ejector seat, or leveling a building with a flurry of short-range missiles. The Gaffer, at Fury's request had made the weapon's system as simple as possible to understand and use. At his recognition command a small display screen listed the car's array of guns, rockets and lesser devices like the rear exhaust smoke screen and the external fire suppressors. A simple sequence of buttons would put any weapon into play either manually or with the onboard computer's assistance, but only after Fury spoke the command codes, thus- hopefully- preventing accidents.
The onboard computer was state of the art, of course. Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four, one of his own patents that he had allowed S.H.I.E.L.D. to use, had designed it. It was built in a fashion after the artificial intelligence that kept the Fantastic Four's own base of operations secure and running efficiently. Richards had given the AI a personality as well- patterned after his own wife Susan, Fury suspected- and Fury often found himself wondering if the thing might not actually be alive. Still, as much as Fury was set in his ways, he acknowledged just how much he relied on the computer's technology.
When the Gaffer had suggested- rather insisted that Fury take the Boxster S out for a test spin, he had grumbled and groused but eventually acquiesced. Before the crack of dawn he had been driving through the streets of Brooklyn, heading towards Coney Island to give the car a workout on the road. The Porsche had handled fine, maneuvering through the busy streets of Park Slope and Bensonhurst better than the Colonel might have imagined, and when he reached Brighton Beach and shifted the sports car into flight mode the transition had hardly been noticeable. The jet wheels at the front and rear had extended silently, lifting the car fractionally on their vortex beams while the car's wheels shifted beneath the body and engaged their own power. Within the space of a heartbeat Fury was maneuvering the Porsche out onto the sandy beach and soon over the Atlantic Ocean itself. Fury drove out to sea, pushing the car to its limits, achieving a speed of better than 700 MPH within seconds. He put the car through a quick series of test maneuvers, checking the Porsche's stall and turning capabilities. The Boxster's gyros were working perfectly, and the internal atmosphere kept Fury's equilibrium well-balanced as he drilled the car through a series of acrobatics that would have tossed his breakfast in the old Berlinetta. When he reached the twenty mile limit of the United States sea borders he checked the weaponry through a battery of predetermined tests, watching as the computer took over and fired each of the weapons in turn, memorizing the command sequences in the process.
All too soon however, with the cool glow of the sun rising over the eastern horizon, the computer reminded him of the first of the day's appointments. The sultry female voice had startled him when it warned him of a meeting at the United Nations building in thirty minutes. Fury grumbled, acknowledging the appointment and let the computer plot a course back to the city. He had nicknamed the onboard computer Pam out of old sentiment, and he was thankful that he had not followed up a half-drunken idea to have Richards tweak the personality a bit and give it a British accent. It was creepy enough, almost like having your mother in the back seat, telling you how to drive.
After the computer had taken over the responsibility of flying back to the city, Fury had activated the driver's monitor and called up the latest files concerning his upcoming meeting. There was a long read out concerning the current activities of the recently reorganized Sons of the Serpent, including links to sub-files that recorded their past dealings with the Defenders and the Avengers and Captain America most recently, as well as personal files profiling their various so-called Supreme Serpents from their first appearance to their last. The Serpents had last reared up- at least in force- at a meeting at the UN concerning the alleged 'Mutant Crisis'. Luckily, coincidentally, Fury had had his own operatives within the club when the attack broke out. The ex-Champion, sometimes Avenger, sometimes super spy known as the Black Widow had been on the guest list along with her new boss, Henry Peter Gyrich. Little known to Gyrich, the Widow was back on SHIELD's payroll, had been since the Onslaught Affair and the deaths of the world's greatest heroes. Along with the Widow he had had a separate task force on hand consisting of regular SHIELD agents as well as recently hired mercenaries like Marc Spector and villains on probation like Cain Marko- the Juggernaut as well as the new Ant-Man, Scott Lang, though he was technically acquitted and never had been a villain really. The task force was managed and led by Sharon Carter, Agent Thirteen once again, and one of Fury's most trusted and capable field agents. He and Carter had been through a lot together, mainly due to their unique connections to the late Captain America. There were few of his lieutenants that he trusted more, and she had been the perfect choice to lead the task force.
The probationary task force was an idea he had had after Onslaught had killed off the likes of the Avengers and the Fantastic Four. True, there were a lot of vigilante heroes out there like Spider-Man and Daredevil, but there were also a lot of villains- more actually- who might be persuaded to do the right thing with a little incentive. A Presidential Pardon for instance, or in the rougher cases a bit of legal extortion in the form of the Red Skull's Nuclear Tape and the Controller's Control Disks modified to be used by the SHIELD PSI Division. It wasn't technically legal he supposed, and the Human Rights groups would give them hell if they ever found out, but these were tough times.
There had been rumblings along the grapevine beforehand of course about the Serpents' attack, though no one had suspected they might hire the Wrecking Crew. The Serpents had assaulted the city on a lesser scale in the lower class neighborhoods of the five boroughs over the past few weeks. There had been fire bombings and minority bashing in areas like the South Bronx and Bedford-Stuyvesant in Brooklyn, but these were all localized and low key. The Sons of the Serpent tended to attack only when they knew they would get away with it, beating up on minorities, attacking in force and using bullying tactics against those they deemed inferior. Fury had battled it back in the Big One over fifty years before, and had been battling it ever since it seemed. It was Racism, bigotry pure and simple, and he hated it.
Fury glanced up as the car started to rock with turbulence. A flurry of motion obscured the windshield as a flock of panicked pigeons fluttered up and about at the car's passing. That was one of the drawbacks of flying the car through the city, aside from flagpoles and the like. The computer's proximity sensors would keep the car from crashing into any building, but if a sudden flight of birds came into range the vortex beams under the car would most often try to overcompensate before the onboard computer could manage to take control. Fury imagined the startled birds being pummeled by the forces of the vortex beams beneath the Porsche as he gripped the steering wheel, feeling sorry for the poor souls walking the streets as it suddenly started raining dazed and dizzy birds into their midst.
"Assuming manual control, Pam." Fury felt a slight lurch as the computer relinquished control to him. It took all of a second to veer the car off to an angle, giving the pigeons a clear patch of sky to get away, then leveling out again and steering along over First Avenue as he headed towards the United Nations.
The UN Plaza had been finished finally in the fifties, built on the accomplishments of Wilson's League of Nations and improved upon by Roosevelt and Truman in the forties. It housed offices and embassies to scores of nations as well as offices to more localized groups like the World Health Organization, executive suites for the President of the United States that hosted the UN, ranking members of various UN councils, and offices for S.H.I.E.L.D. The building had been host to visitors from all over the world, not the least of which were Magneto, self-proclaimed ruler of mutant kind and Victor Von Doom, the King of Latveria. In its time, the United Nations had financed the Mighty Avengers and had sanctioned groups from countries all over the world like Canada's Alpha Flight and even the Soviet Super Soldiers in Russia. Now and foremost it backed S.H.I.E.L.D.- at least in theory.
Fury steered the Porsche in a wide arch that circled the UN building and the Plaza over all. The computer automatically relayed his security codes to similar machines in the building, asking for permission to land, but Fury saw a group of workmen on the roof, resurfacing the Heli-pad and patching the hole made by Thunderball's entrance and he knew that he would be redirected. Odd that they would do that in the midst of a snow fall, but Fury supposed that they had to work around the schedules of the UN delegates and make time for their work when they could.
Fury maneuvered the car out over the main plaza to where the computer's directions told him to go. He saw the Plaza pop up on the monitor screen's map guide but ignored it, more interested in the half-dozen security guards that were converging on the landing spot that had been chosen for him to put down. He eased back on the car's thrust, angling up until he felt the natural stall kick in then cut the car's acceleration altogether, letting the vortex beams take hold and level out the Porsche. Fury glanced out the window, not fully trusting the external cameras as the car slowly lowered towards a bit of cement beneath the Boxster. He glanced at the security guards, normal men and women just a bit above civilians dressed in their blues and grays. Five of the six had their guns drawn- dull black nine-millimeter automatics that were almost standard issue in Manhattan for cops and security alike. The sixth did not have his gun drawn, but Fury noted that his hand hovered about the holster. The man was the commander, his rank a Captain if Fury remembered the UN's markings adorning the man's uniform. He was old, a bit of gray peeking from beneath his cap, and his face was weathered and lined with age. It took Fury a moment to recognize the man, just a fraction of a second before the computer confirmed his identity along with his fellows.
Fury popped the seal on the security lock of the Porsche and opened the door, ignoring Pam's warnings that the car was not powered down or depressurized. Back in the fifties he had had an old Plymouth that would not shut off for a minute or two despite his turning the key, and Fury had often wandered away while it had been running as well. He stepped out of the Porsche and onto the cement walkway of the Plaza, his boots slipping a bit on the snow-slick stone as he regained his land legs. He immediately pulled a cigar from his suit jacket and bit the end off, spitting the butt into the sheet of snow covering the nearby grass. He lit up with a contented sigh, making a mental note to tell Gaff to turn off the internal smoke detectors when he saw the man next.
"Put yer guns away!" the old man scolded as he stomped forward towards the colonel. "Don't any of ya read yer dailies anymore, bloody rookies?"
Fury smirked as four of the five junior security officers slowly complied with their commander. The fifth eyed Fury with suspicion and kept her gun leveled, aimed at his heart. Fury was only slightly mollified, trying to remember if his Beta Cloth Kevlar suit jacket would stop a 9-mm slug at such a close range.
"Captain!" the woman said, "Regulations state the deployment of weapons on any and all not identified intruders until said intruder has given the proper codes of entry. This man-"
"Lord, girl! Don't ya recognize Nick Fury Hisself? He was out savin' the world when yer grandma was wonderin' what she'd wear ta her junior prom. Put that gun away before he takes it from ya!" Reluctantly the young woman lowered the gun and slipped it back into the holster at her hip. Fury noticed that she did not strap it into place however. She was a bit overzealous, maybe, but that was good. Better than being lax in her job and following orders blindly like the others seemed to do.
"What's yer name, soldier?" Fury asked, eyeing her up and down. She looked to be half his age, but knew that in reality that meant that she was probably closer to a quarter of it. She had dull brown hair tied into a ponytail and a pleasant enough face when you got past the scowl. Fifty years ago and Fury would have found her attractive. He still did, truth to tell, but she was far too young.
"Corbitt, Sir- Jacquelyn Corbitt."
"Well, good job, Corbitt. You go right ahead quotin' regulations. It'll save yer neck some day." Fury flicked ash from his cigar, "Pikachu, by the way."
The woman finally relaxed he saw as he gave the day's password. He smiled, stepping up to the older man and shaking his hand. He would have to remember her for transfer to S.H.I.E.L.D. if her record was clean.
"I'm sorry, Colonel. The troops get a bit excited, y'know?"
"No harm done, Sam. She seems a good kid. Glad she's on our side."
"Aye, ain't that the truth? Best I get you inside. They's a waitin' on you I expect."
"Lead on, Sam."
Fury remembered the man, finally, as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent from the sixties. He had been a field agent assigned to the Helicarrier then, and now, thirty-odd years later he was close to retirement, working off the last of his years as a security guard at the UN. He wondered how the man felt, deep down at seeing his boss looking as he had almost forty years ago. Sam Peterson had probably been younger than Fury when he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. Now he looked old enough to be Fury's father. It was the Infinity Formula, of course- an experiment that had retarded Fury's aging over the last few decades and kept him in semi-decent shape. How many people would Fury see die of old age while he kept on living, trapped at forty-something? Fury bit down on his cigar, trying not to think about it as the old man led him into the main building and through the long process of the United Nations Security System.
***
"Is that him?"
Natalia Alianovna Romanova leaned forward in her chair and peered out the large paneled windows as a flash of quicksilver streaked by. She had been half dozing, resting comfortably in the plush leather armchair; her long legs and stockinged feet curled up beneath her. Not the most business like posture to assume she knew, but her fellow had been strangely quiet since he had been admitted to the S.H.I.E.L.D. offices in the UN building, and she did not imagine that he would mind if she made herself comfortable. They were old friends, after all.
Natalia stood and padded across the carpeting of the offices towards the window. The conference room was warm and well furnished with a long oval table and well-padded chairs that seemed to conform to the sitter's body and almost swallow them whole. The walls were paneled in dark wood that matched the furniture, and there was a food trolley and wet bar set up in one corner complete with a silver tea and coffee set and trays of bacon, eggs, home-fries and breads. Natalia plucked a poppy seed bagel from the tray and took a small bite as she joined her comrade where he stood at the wide windows. The view was magnificent, facing the east with a clear view of Queens and the glorious sunrise. The sun appeared as an almost silver disk as it rose, piercing the thin clouds and sparkling through the light snow that had been falling most of the morning. It was beautiful, but somehow Natalia did not think that her old friend even noticed.
"It was a flying car. Who else would it be?"
Natalia glanced at her friend, looking him up and down. He was dressed in the simple robes of his country and office; long flowing weaves in black trimmed in silver covering a more stylish and western three piece suit- Armani she thought. He was a handsome man with dark skin and a muscular frame evident even beneath the layers of clothing. He had taken to shaving his head, which she did not like all that much, but the addition of a stylish goatee was an improvement, and gave the man an heir of intimidation that she felt he had always lacked. Natalia knew of course that he was anything but weak, however. He was an honorable man, and a noble warrior and king. He was a strong, fierce fighter, and had been admired as such since his first encounter with the Fantastic Four many years ago. His glory and legend had grown, first at Captain America's side and later as a member of the mighty Avengers. He was T'Challa, son of T'Chaka, King of the African nation of Wakanda and member in good standing of the Avengers. Scientist, scholar, hero, king- he was the Black Panther!
Natalia remembered those first days. She had just started working with S.H.I.E.L.D. again, as she had not been an Avenger at the time, and her relationship with the archer, Hawkeye, had seemed stale and stagnant. The Black Panther had arrived in America to join the Avengers as Captain America's replacement, with the shield-slinger's most high praise and recommendations. He had inadvertently stumbled into a plot that had wrongly accused him as murderer of the three Avengers that he had come to America to join. Hawkeye, Goliath and the wasp had apparently been slain, and the Black Panther had stumbled unknowingly onto the scene of the crime, the New York Police Department and S.H.I.E.L.D. itself immediately considering him the best suspect. The sixties was a turbulent decade, and the state of mind of most people in those times of civil unrest were more than willing to blame an unknown and costumed black man calling himself the Black Panther for the most heinous crime since the assassination of President Kennedy. T'Challa had cleared his name of course, and made short work of the true villain- the Grim Reaper who had used an encephalo beam to put the three Avengers into a state of suspended animation akin to death. In the end, the Black Panther had triumphed and been accepted with open arms as a hero to the Avenger's hallowed ranks. An honor that had been denied the Black Widow.
Still, the Panther had proven his worth, as apparently had the Avengers to him. In her dealings with the group, over the following years, and later as partner to Daredevil the man without fear, she and the Panther had become friends. His loyalties and purpose had come under scrutiny of late, as he had announced that he had joined the Avengers merely to judge their worth as true heroes and guardians of freedom. But Natalia knew that he had not found them- at least wholly as a group- wanting in any way. The Avengers were above reproach, as was the Panther, despite his current attitude; aloof and condescending, even arrogant. Natalia hoped that the Panther still held her in at least the slightest respect. She saw him glance at her, the slightest curling of his lip forming a smile-
"I'm sorry, Natasha." He sighed, returning his gaze to the snowy skies above Queens. In the distance, the Citi-Group Tower sparkled in the sunrise. "You don't deserve my ire, but rather my thanks. You saved M'Bala, my secondary diplomatic envoy to the United Nations from more harm at the hands of the Wrecking Crew after the Wrecker heinously killed T'Baro. I am in your debt."
"I did not realize that we were keeping score, T'Challa." Natalia smiled warmly, glad that he was finally speaking. "You've saved the world too many times to count, so I imagine that I owe you more than you owe me."
"I doubt that." The Panther sniffed, but she could tell that he was more at ease than he had been just moments before. "We are even then, again?"
"Good enough for me, old friend." Natalia shook his hand as he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, just as the door opened.
Nick Fury stood in the open doorway in all his glory. He was dressed in a well-cut gray suit, tailored to fit and outfitted by S.H.I.E.L.D. technos, Natalia knew, with all the latest gadgetry of his trade, a long black overcoat covering that. He looked good, despite his age, which was oddly not so far from her own, actually. His hair was dark brown, thick and wavy with just a distinguished touch of gray at the temples and glistening with drops of water from melting snow. He was taller than the Panther, and slimmer, but Natalia knew that he was at least in as good shape as the King of Wakanda, if not better. As always, a dark leather patch covered the spot where his left eye used to be, and a thick cigar hung from the corner of his mouth trailing smoke. His face was lined more from worry than age, and his remaining steely gray eye caught them both in its gaze as he glanced about the room, surveying the scene he was about to enter. He nodded in her direction, closing a file folder that he had been reading as he strolled into the room, an air of confidence surrounding him.
"Tasha."
"Good morning, Nicholas." The Black Widow nodded in kind and returned to her chair to put on her boots. She glanced at the Panther and saw that his face had darkened again at Fury's arrival, his eyes cold and dark once more and his smile forgotten.
"Fury."
"Yer majesty."
Natalia watched as the two men tried to stare one another down. They had been friends, once upon a time, but current affairs and words said on both sides had put them at odds; them and their respective countries. To his credit, and nothing to do with cowardice, Fury was the first to look away after several tense seconds, moving into the room and taking a seat at the conference table, after draping his overcoat across an empty chair. Natalia pulled her chair closer, even as the Panther took a seat across from the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Fury dropped his folder to the tabletop and pulled a small silver tray closer to his seat. He flicked ash from his cigar into the tray, then sat back and eyed the Panther once again. The Black Panther returned his gaze, both men seeming cold and hard. Fury's status as world peace keeper had been in question for the last few years, ever since the Deltite Affair, and the corruption and eventual demise of the original S.H.I.E.L.D. organization. Fury's life had crumbled then, the very core of his existence and morals had all been proven to be a pack of lies. He had seemingly lost countless friends to those that had controlled not only S.H.I.E.L.D., but the likes of AIM and Hydra as well, all in a bid for some form of humanity and world unity. It had been a long hard climb for Fury, trying to reestablish the trust that he had lost, but he was a good man, and once again coming into his own, building S.H.I.E.L.D. back into a trusted organization. The Black Panther too had lost some credibility when he had announced that all the years he had spent as an Avenger and lived in their house, on United States soil had simply been a test of sorts- to judge their own credibility along with the other countless heroes that made their home in Manhattan and the United States of America. The Panther had hurt many with his callous announcement; the Avengers as a whole, and not the least of which, the likes of Captain America and Reed Richards. In the larger picture, the Black Widow could understand his concerns. Wakanda was the world's chief source of the miracle metal, Vibranium, and its main source of stabilization. One of the strongest metals known to man, Vibranium was a boon to mankind in its 'safe' form, capable of withstanding hundreds of thousands of pounds of relative pressure, far more than the same mass and weight of steel under similar circumstances. The metal was highly unstable and volatile however, and subject to collapse and discorporation within certain sound frequencies when left in its raw state. The Wakandans had developed a process to stabilize the metal though, and they guarded their secret religiously.
The Black Widow watched the two men, both her friends, and sighed. Neither spoke, both eyeing one another with suspicion, even bordering on contempt. Natalia wondered if perhaps Fury had known that the tension would be thick, and had asked her to sit in as a peacemaker as well as for her information concerning the assault on the Hellfire Club. Whatever, she was determined to see this meeting go well. She cleared her throat-
"Have you discovered anything new, Nicholas?"
Fury glanced at her, breaking his locked stare-down with the Panther and seemed to relax, if only a little. "Not much, Tasha." Fury opened the file folder he had placed on the table before him and started thumbing through the thick stack of papers within.
"The Sons a' the Serpent've been busy, but nothin' beyond their usual MO. There've been beatings and arson in the lower rent neighborhoods, but so far nothin' that the cops and fire department can't handle. There was a few assaults, but they were against groups like the NAACP, and the Black Urban League, and they were more dinners and such that were protested and got outta hand than actual all-out attacks. I got agents set up in all the likely major groups, an' a few of 'em that're on the fringes, like Sharpton an' his pals, but so far- nothin'.
"I checked in on the Serpent's old leaders too, an' all the old Supreme Serpents are present an' accounted for. General Chen, the guy that first got the Serpents together is locked away good an' tight somewhere in China. Dan Dunn an' Montague Hale, the salt 'n pepper leaders a' the Sons that tried to pin a bum wrap on you a few years later, Panther, are still sittin' tight in Attica, an' will be fer some time ta come. Richmond's boy, Pennysworth is playin' golf in Colorado, but he ain't goin' nowhere no time soon. Kryzewski, the racist that was with the Serpents from the beginnin' is still locked up tight too, an' near as we know his Hate Monger buddy- the Corrupter we figger- is still dead. The last time the Serpents showed up- in LA an' Seattle just a few months back Cap dealt with 'em. It seemed they wuz bein' run by Viper that time out, but it turned out in the end that the leader wuz the King Cobra callin' hisself the Serpent Supreme. That wuz a big mess accordin' ta Cap's reports, involvin' the Serpent Society too. Cobra an' Viper are on the loose accordin' ta my intelligence, but it seems that Voorhes- the Cobra- wuz usin' some modified version of the Controller's mind disks ta 'control her through all'a that, so we gotta figure that that whole fiasco wuz his baby. Why none a' the baddies runnin' around with snake gimmicks never thought a' usin' the Serpents before I don't know. Maybe the Cobra's smarter than we all gave him credit for all a' these years.
"Whatever, we gotta figger that whoever's behind this latest uprisin' is probably somebody new, maybe connected to one a' the old bosses, but I doubt it. Either that, or Cobra's pickin' up where he left off the last time. The Serpents ain't like HYDRA an' AIM. They ain't organized fer the long haul, an' only pop up when somebody lights a fire under 'em. They need a leader, an' right now that looks like the Cobra."
"I remember well the ordeal with Dunn and Hale, Fury. It opened my eyes to the true state of affairs of Afro-Americans here in the United States at the time. One of the many reasons that I did as I did over the years that I was an Avenger, keeping my true purpose and intentions a secret." The Black Panther leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers before him. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, considering- "Of course the Avengers proved themselves once again, and I did meet my future wife, Monica Lynne, during that encounter. I had not lost my faith at that point, neither in mankind, nor America."
The Black Widow watched the two men- two warriors, both set in their ways, wishing that they might come to terms. Both were stubborn and arrogant in their own ways, but she knew that both were good as well, deep down. Two of the best!
"How is your ambassador, T'Challa? T'Baro."
The Panther glanced at her, realizing what she was trying to do, and forced a smile. "He is well, Natasha. Thanks mainly to your intervention, and Carter's. In fact, he is to be released from the hospital this afternoon."
"That's good news at least. I wish him well." The Panther nodded his thanks, then turned again to face the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
"And what about that, Fury? If not for the timely intervention of the Black Widow, I would have lost two ambassadors to my country. T'Baro might have been injured far worse than he was, possibly killed by the Wrecker as well. There could have been an international incident, beyond which that which has already occurred. How do you plan to rectify that, Fury?"
"I ain't, Panther." Fury sighed, gnawing on the bit of his cigar. "There's plenty a folks that get paid more n' me ta deal with the politics. It was dumb luck that the Widow was there on that attack, but she was workin' fer me, an' there were other agents around, both S.H.I.E.L.D. and the NSA and UN Security. Yer man would'a been fine, regardless. Not like you jumped in to kick the Wrecker's butt anyway. What was that about?"
"My people are well-versed in the affairs of the world, Fury. Most attend school here in the States, or in England or Canada, wherever they might get the best education to follow their life goals. Wakanda is a peaceful land, however, and somewhat sheltered. Despite our best efforts, my countrymen, new to the world beyond Wakanda, tend to view humanity in a better light than perhaps they should. M'Bala sought only a bit of peace and unity and was killed, and T'Baro paid for his naivete with a loss of his blood and a shattering of his ideals. My first priority is and ever was to my people!"
"He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Panther. It could'a been anyone-"
"Anyone whose skin was dark-"
"Enough!" The Black Widow slammed her hands down on the tabletop, hoping to shock the two men into silence before their argument turned into a brawl. They were already on their feet, on opposite sides of the conference table and shouting at one another. This bickering was getting them nowhere.
"The wars of race, creed and color have been waging long before any of us were born, and I fear they will rage long after we three are gone as well. What's done is done, gentlemen. Let us deal with the task at hand; find out who is behind these attacks and stop them." Both men looked at the Widow, their eyes crackling with barely suppressed anger. Finally though she saw the Panther nod, only slightly less stubborn than the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury sagged, then slumped into his seat.
"I think Hydra's behind all a' this, somehow, maybe usin' the Cobra and the Serpents- maybe not." Fury shuffled through the papers on the table before him, then slid a small sheaf across the wooden top towards the King of Wakanda. The Panther started thumbing through the stack of papers, quickly reading all that was presented before him.
"Marc Spector described the insignia on the craft that attacked his Crescent Chopper over the East River. It was a Serpent's design, but the ship itself resembled a modified Troop Carrier that Hydra used back in the Sixties and Seventies, outfitted for assault. It's not like ya can't buy any old craft off a' the Black Market these days if ya got the money, but it seems too coincidental ta me."
The Panther said nothing for a long moment as he scanned the papers on the table before him. He was motionless, save for an occasional tapping of his fingernail on the hard surface. Natalia knew that he was deep in thought, considering what Fury had suggested. She knew that he had read the Avenger's files concerning Hydra and the Sons of the Serpent; the sub-files provided by Nighthawk and the rest of the Defenders as well as Captain America's in depth reports.
"You may be right, Fury." The Black Panther's voice was low and cold, but Natalia did not detect the hostility that she had heard earlier in their meeting. "I note here that Shaw Industries rises in several of the reports concerning the Serpents. Sebastian Shaw is like a jackal in the jungle of industry. He has bought out countless rivals, after driving their companies into bankruptcy. Shaw Industries is the current manufacturer of this country's Sentinels, and I am certain that he had a hand in the recent Project Wide-Awake, as well as Steven Lang's Project Armageddon, his ill-fated attempt to take over where Bolivar and Larry Trask left off. He recently tried to outbid my country's own company for contract of constructing the Avenger's Quinjets."
"Yeah." Fury nodded, puffing his cigar back to life. "I remember the Lang fiasco. He had somebody pullin' strings for him. Somebody high enough ta get him access ta SHIELD's orbital platform ta stage his little mutant round up. Glad the X-Men put the kibosh on that one."
"Indeed." the Panther agreed. As an Avenger he had met his share of mutants, worked with them. Not to mention androids, robots, aliens and gods. In the end, they were people all, and T'Challa wondered how long before the Serpents would turn their attentions on those groups if left unchecked. "If Shaw is backing the Serpents- and Hydra as you suspect, we may be in for a fight."
"Word is Shaw would beat down his grandmother fer a buck. He's a businessman, Just like Anthony Stark, an' you fer that matter. An' don't tell me you don't know how cutthroat the business world is. I'm sure you remember all the trouble that Cornelius Van Lunt gave you an' the Avengers not too long after you fought the Serpents that first time. Shaw's the worst kind o' racist too. He hates everybody! His first major play was ta capture the X-Men, hopin' ta exploit them n' their powers somehow. Anybody that can give him power is fair game in his mind. He's fought the X-Men time an' again, but he's cagey, an' never gets caught. An', unfortunately, ain't no jury gonna convict him on the X-Men's word.
"Shaw's been buyin' up stocks all over the market lately. Him an' his flunkies in the Hellfire Club. SHIELD's been followin' his tradin', along with the Securities an' Exchange Commission, but the bigwigs can't seem ta find no common ground in what they're doin' yet. They're investin' in gold an' a lot of penny stocks outside a' the country, but they're also buyin' inta oil and gas and simpler things like textiles and food merchandising. I ain't too proud ta tell ya that it's all over my head, but I'd say, just on a blind hunch, that they was coverin' their bases just in case the world went ta hell in a handbasket overnight."
"So what is our next move, Colonel?"
Fury smiled, not missing that the Panther had included himself in the group. He shrugged however, turning his palms up to indicate he was at a loss.
"More a' the same T'Challa. We got no real leads yet; none ta speak of anyway. I got agents out on the streets, hopin' ta catch the snakes in the act. I got Administration lookin' inta Shaw's business dealin's. I'm sendin' the Widda out ta Xavier's ta talk ta the Beast an' whoever's there, maybe get some first hand insight on Shaw an' his cronies. I got a coupl'a leads I'm gonna follow up personally. About the only thing I don't got covered yet is a trip down memory lane, visitin' the old haunts of the other Serpent risin's. Interested?"
The Black Panther nodded. "The Sons of the Serpent are an old wound with me, Fury, and one that has never really healed. Affairs of state and more personal crises have kept me from giving them my full attention over the years, as it seems there is always something to demand my time. Now, however, they shall receive my full attention, and hopefully, together, we will end their threat once and for all."
"Sounds good ta me." Fury stood and extended a hand in friendship- finally.
The Black Widow smiled, delighted as the Panther shook Fury's hand, happy that they had finally put past differences aside to face the common foe. She hated that it took something like the racially motivated actions of a hate group like the Sons of the Serpent to bring these two men back together and she hoped- above all- that they would manage to follow through after- if the Serpents were defeated.