The snow had still been lightly falling when the three had left the United Nation's building and gone their separate ways. Fury had given the Black Panther the technical information on the previous bases used by the Sons of the Serpent, as it was his job to check into their old headquarters from past encounters. The base of General Chen- the first Supreme Serpent- had been an airship hidden in the clouds over New York City. The skyship had long since been dismantled by S.H.I.E.L.D. however, with Chen's defeat, as had the massive serpentine submarine that had been the headquarters of Dan Dunn and Montague Hale when they sought to set America at its own throat by manipulation through the media. The Los Angeles and Seattle bunkers of the Serpents had been closed down, stripped and sold. Government projects had been erected over the LA base, and a parking lot now covered the remains of the bunker in Seattle. Only the bases created by JC Pennysworth were still standing, though allegedly stripped bare. Technically owned by Kyle Richmond, the Defender known as Nighthawk, their propriety fell to him, and the vast blanket of investments that were Richmond Enterprises. It was to see Kyle Richmond that the Black Panther was bound, after a brief side trip to the Upper East Side and then to the riverside docks where he personally encountered the Serpents for the first time years ago.
The Black Widow was destined to visit the Xavier Institute, outside of Salem's Center in Westchester. Both she and Fury had met most of the X-Men- there ever-changing roster sometimes made it difficult to meet them all- but it was decided that Natalia was probably on better terms with most of them. They were both old friends with Wolverine. Probably older friends than any of them might like to admit. But the Canuck was always a variable, a question mark as to whether he would be on the school for Gifted Youngster's grounds or off gallivanting around the world.
Natalia knew others, however, and was actually quite close with three. Warren Worthington III and Bobby Drake, otherwise known as Arch Angel and Ice Man were both original members of the Champions as well as being founding members of the X-Men and graduates of Xavier's school. The Black Widow had worked with both men for years in the Champions as they tried to make their way on their own, trying to get out of the shadow cast by the outlaw X-Men. She had seen both grow into adulthood, becoming heroes as well as men.
Then there was Henry McCoy. He was another X-Man, though she had not worked with him in the Champions but rather the Avengers. He was the oldest of the original band of mutants, having left the school some years before the rest to make his way as a biochemist at Brand Corporation. There he had created a solution that isolated the mutant X-Factor, but like Doctor Jekyll he felt duty bound to test his own discovery on himself. Henry McCoy, a.k.a. the Beast became a monster in form as well as in name. He had persevered however, and not long after joined the mighty Avengers, where he and the Black Widow eventually met. Natalia was friends with all three men though it had been some time since she had last spoken with any of them.
After the Panther had left Fury had directed her towards his car parked at an angle before the Plaza outside the doors of the United Nations. It was a sleek, silver sportscar, and Natalia imagined that it was one of SHIELD’s special Flying Cars, Fury's own no doubt. A female security guard stood beside the car and snapped to attention as soon as she saw the pair walking her way.
"Corbitt?" Fury said with some confusion. Apparently he knew the woman, and the Widow was not surprised. "What're you doin' here?"
"I'm sorry, Colonel-" the woman swallowed. She seemed nervous, and just a little agitated. "Sir! I just wanted to apologize for my earlier actions. I was out of line and-"
Fury waved the woman to silence. "At ease, soldier. You did the right thing, like I said before. Ya did yer job, what you're supposed ta do, by the book. Better yet, ya didn't back down on yer CO's word, waitin' fer the day's password. Sam an' I are old friends, but he ought'a know better. Ya did good, Corbitt."
The woman smiled, though she tried to hide it. "Thank you, Sir!" She snapped to rigid attention again and saluted. Fury returned the salute even though technically, he was not her superior. Fury commanded thousands of UN sanctioned agents, but he had no real authority over the average security guard, or any military personnel anymore for that matter, unless special measures were taken. It was all very confusing- politics. One of the main reasons that the Widow had given up the spy game in the first place.
Natalia watched as the security officer moved away and Fury withdrew a small device from his pants pocket and aimed it at the car. He depressed a button and an electronic 'chirp' emitted from the Porsche Boxster S. Fury tapped in a code on the door panel keypad and the car opened, the passenger side as well. The Widow climbed in and belted up as she watched Fury flicking switches and pressing buttons in a sequence for the pre-flight checklist. He was grimacing as lights started flashing, apparently not at his command.
"New car, Colonel?" Natalia said with a grin. Fury grunted, turning a dial on the silver dashboard that focused the resolution on one of the internal computer monitors.
"Yeah…" he said, sliding the ashtray out and extinguishing his cigar. "Just picked it up this mornin' in fact. Haven't had a good chance ta put 'er through her paces yet. Still got a few bugs."
Fury buckled himself into his seat and flipped a final series of switches. The doors to the Porsche swung silently closed and Natalia felt the sudden change in the air as the car sealed and pressurized. There was a slight rumble as the engine came to life, and the Widow felt the car shift as the front and rear wheels lowered, employing their vortex beams. The car heaved upward, and she heard the sound of the car's four regular tires rotating horizontally, and within seconds the Porsche started to slowly rise.
There was some turbulence as Fury gripped the steering column, trying to control the car as it climbed higher and higher above the UN Plaza. Natalia watched out the windows as the car rose into the sky, rocking slightly. She saw the security woman standing near the statue that graced the plaza. Swords to Plowshares; the woman looked small and insignificant beside the huge statue of the ex-soldier hammering his sword into a plow.
"Praise from the high and mighty Colonel Fury." Natalia smirked, "The woman will be walking on air all day."
Fury snorted as he arched the car up and away from the United Nations building. The snow was falling harder, bigger flakes that melted as they hit the car's proximity field. Natalia watched from the window, the woman getting smaller and smaller as the car pulled up and away.
"She didn't even know who I was, Tasha." Fury sighed, biting the dead butt of his fat cigar. "Not 'til Sam told her who I was. It ain't like the old days."
"What is?" Natalia Alianovna Romanova settled back into the plush leather bucket seat, luxuriating in the warmth of the car's internal air. The Flying Car rose higher, then angled north at Fury's commands, memorized by the onboard computer's auto pilot program. Natalia glanced out the window, watching as the snow whipped by, and the high stone canyons of Manhattan dwindled in the distance behind them…
***
T’Challa, Son of T'Chaka, King of Wakanda, the Black Panther stood patiently as his ally struggled to open the massive doors before them. T'Challa listened, partially, as Kyle Richmond, the Defender known as Nighthawk droned on and on as he worked his way through the locking sequence of the doors leading to the last of the abandoned bases of the Sons of the Serpent. That base that had been built and financed by Richmond's own billions.
The Panther did not know exactly what he hoped to find in the complex. It had been closed down for years, since the Defenders had beaten the last major uprising of the Serpents. Richmond had put the building and the properties up for sale after that, and then Kryzewski had broken in years later to use the bases within again. Luckily the Avengers (with some assistance from the New Warriors) had defeated Kryzewski's Serpents easily enough, and driven away the Hate Monger who was driving them. He suspected that there would be nothing to learn. Nothing as there had been at the other sites he had visited earlier in the day. The garbage-strewn lot where he had fought his first Serpents, where he had first saved Monica Lynne had long since been built upon, now housing a high rise apartment complex. The East Side docks on the East River had been sold and bought three times over since he had daringly infiltrated that Serpent organization so many years ago. The Panther expected searching this, the only actual base that had once housed the Sons of the Serpent to be a waste of his time as well, though how better spent he did not know.
T'Challa watched as Kyle Richmond typed a code into the keypad on the wall beside the door. He waited as the man spoke a sequence of words, the computer built within the security system acknowledging his voiced authority as the owner of the disused complex. Light flickered from the wall, flashing in Richmond's eyes; a retinal scan probing his unique eye patterns even as he placed his palm flat against a glass plate that had risen from the wall's recess. A sickly green glow filled the dim hallway as Richmond dug into the pockets of his cashmere overcoat. He eventually produced a small key shaped like a tuning fork-
"You should recognize this." Richmond held up the key so that the Panther could see it clearly. T’Challa stared coolly, finally nodding so that his ally would continue. Of course he recognized the key; the special key for the 'vibro-lock' imbedded in the doors. He had invented it after all. Richmond had apparently spent millions to secure the base as this last set of safeguards was based upon Sonics in unison with Vibranium. That metal, found in his homeland and in the Antarctic in an even more unstable form did not come cheap. It was scarce, and the refining processes were time consuming and costly. Of late as well there had been introduced far more advanced security devices- much cheaper- and Richmond's security measures dated themselves. Still, when refined, Vibranium was one of the strongest metals known, and the most versatile. Used in conjunction with the specially made key, the vibro-lock would only open for one person- the key bearer- in this case, Richmond.
The King of Wakanda folded his arms over his chest as Kyle Richmond tapped the key on the wall, setting the harmonics in motion. The base was far more secure, seemingly, than Avenger's Mansion itself. Then too, the abandoned Serpent base did not house some of earth's mightiest warriors. T'Challa wondered why the Defender felt the need for such security, or why he had not simply sold the complex, or built over it. It seemed a waste of prime Manhattan real estate. What mysteries and secrets still lay beyond the great titanium layered doors? Memories perhaps?
The Sons of the Serpent that had been housed in this specific base had been secretly financed by Richmond's money, their Serpent Supreme Richmond's own financial advisor and accountant. JC Pennysworth had been Kyle Richmond's right hand man, and Richmond Enterprise's driving force as it's owner had been far too busy enjoying himself to take notice of where his money was going. Pennysworth- a black man- had financed the Sons of the Serpent, armed them and built their bases and vehicles, all with the intention of expanding Richmond's wealth by driving out the lower class tenants of buildings in areas where the property was less than standard and cheaply purchased once vacant. Richmond had been oblivious, and Pennysworth had betrayed him, and his people.
The Panther could sympathize. He had been betrayed, and had been the betrayer as well, at least in the eyes of others. All he had done however, had been for Wakanda, and he had no regrets.
For Richmond however, it was just another trial for his long and tumultuous career. Kyle Richmond had been born into money, inheriting billions after the deaths of his parents one dark night. He had been bored however, and used his fortunes to further his addiction with adrenaline, rather than investing it wisely and helping those in need. Richmond had reached the summit of Everest before he was twenty-three. He had dived into the ocean's depths and ventured into the closest fringes of space, always trying to find a greater thrill. Nothing it seemed was enough-
Nothing until he was approached by the Grand Master!
The Panther remembered the Grand Master well. One of the so-called 'Elders of the Universe' the blue-skinned alien was alleged to be one of the oldest beings in all of creation. Like his fellows, he was the last survivor of an ancient race long forgotten by time and history. A supposed immortal that had achieved a state of being akin to godhood, and had developed powers and abilities to back his claims. Like Richmond, the Elders had become bored. Over the countless eons, the Elders had each chosen a path to follow with some grand design in mind; the Collector choosing to gather various species of flora and fauna throughout the universe, the Gardener spanning the heavens in hopes to expand the Green, and the Grand Master seeking the greatest of all games.
Thus did he appear before Kang the Conqueror in one of many far-flung futures. He offered the Conqueror the very power over life and death should he choose to contend with the self-proclaimed master of games. Kang accepted the challenge of course- his own arrogance would not let him refuse, but in hopes of restoring the love of his life, at least at first. Kang chose the mighty Avengers as his tokens, to battle those foes that the Grand Master would present.
The alien Elder had traversed the very planes of existence in his quest to quell his boredom, and in a neighboring dimension he had found his champions. On another earth he had encountered one such as Kang who had used a group of super heroes all too similar to the mighty Avengers. It was from the ranks of the Squadron Supreme of that other earth that the Grand Master recreated his own Squadron Sinister- the super strong Hyperion, Doctor Spectrum who wielded the power prism, the incredibly fleet Whizzer, and the master athlete, Nighthawk!
The Grand Master offered Kyle Richmond what he desired most; a life of adventure, something to quench his thirst for action. The Elder granted Richmond powers that would rival the greatest warrior, the best athlete. His powers would increase at night, and with his vast wealth he could create the most fabulous toys and devices to further whatever cause he chose to follow. All that he had to do was fight for the Grand Master.
Richmond jumped at the chance, but unfortunately his part in the alien's game set him against Captain America. The star-spangled Avenger easily beat the novice Nighthawk, and the Avengers as a whole eventually beat all that the Grand Master had to offer, and Kang as well in the end. Defeated for the first time, the Grand Master left to contemplate his loss, but for whatever reason, whatever dark purpose, he allowed his champions to retain what he had given them.
Richmond tried to change his ways, to use his prowess for good. He fought Daredevil at one point, and the man without fear saw him for what he truly was; a hero. The scarlet swashbuckler left Nighthawk to his own, and Richmond vowed to use his second chance to make things right. It was years later when Nighthawk appeared again, this time standing beside the Defenders against his fellow members of the Squadron Sinister. The Squadron had sided with another alien, this one wishing to change the very Earth to better suit its own race. The Defenders stopped the Squadron Sinister and turned the alien away, but not without the sacrifice of Richmond's life. It was only the intervention of Doctor Strange and the sacrifice of a slight bit of life force of the gathered Defenders that saved Nighthawk's life that time.
Richmond joined the Defenders; actually backing them financially. He had had many battles over the years, and it seemed that he had redeemed his dark beginnings. At one point Nighthawk had even died. The Panther smirked. He had been on the wrong side of the law before, and there were few Avengers that had not been declared 'dead' at some point in their illustrious careers.
Kyle Richmond had survived much, but he had proven himself time and again. The Black Panther had been with the mighty Avengers that first time, when they had battled the Grand Master's minions, though he had not met Nighthawk. Captain America had spoken highly of the man's skill, and the slightest praise from Steve Rogers was the highest praise of all.
T'Challa blinked as he heard a hiss of escaping air. A gust of wind blew over him, stale, recycled air swirling about and kicking up the dust in the hallway as the massive doors finally moaned and rolled back in their tracks, opening. Dim emergency lights flickered to life beyond the doorway and the Panther felt the hum of long dead machinery as it churned with new energy, making the walls and the floor vibrate beneath his feet.
"Finally." Kyle Richmond slid the sonic key from the vibro lock and slipped it back into the folds of his winter coat as he stepped through the doorway. T’Challa followed, watching as the billionaire redirected power into the main lighting system and logged into the internal computer system. "I still don't think you're gonna find anything here, Panther. I called in S.H.I.E.L.D. to close up shop and sweep this place for anything they could salvage. Pennysworth equipped the base with state of the art techno- back then anyway. I doubt there's anything here that'd impress you now, just like at the base beneath his offices that we were at earlier."
"Regardless, Nighthawk, we must investigate. You know as well as I what the Serpents might accomplish left unchecked."
"Yeah…"
T'Challa ignored the playboy billionaire as he strode into the complex. It was cold within, and the air tasted old and stagnant. It had been years since Richmond had sealed the base, years since any had trod the halls. There was a thin coating of dust on the tiled floors. The metallic walls were ripped open exposing bare wires and circuitry, the aftermath of the S.H.I.E.L.D. salvage teams. They had been thorough, it was obvious, and the Panther sagged slightly, acknowledging that he had reached another dead end in his search. Still, he moved into the base, watching as Richmond went to a wall-mounted computer screen to bring up the base schematics.
"I had S.H.I.E.L.D. take the whole place apart and they were more than welcome to anything that they wanted to cart away; computers, weapons, you name it. I told Nick Fury to seal all the exits and lock the place down, just give me access through the main doors. Their engineers set up a security system to my specs and even sealed up the hole in the roof that the Hulk, Luke Cage and Daimon Hellstrom tore open when we brought the place down. I've only been back once, not so long ago as a matter of fact, after the Avengers beat Kryzewski and the Hate Monger. I decided not to sell the place after that, and took it off of the market, though I could never bring myself to reopen it for business." Richmond typed away at the computer screen, tapping in his access codes based on the security system that S.H.I.E.L.D. had set up. Shortly the emergency lights were replaced by brighter fluorescent lighting and the stale air started to circulate once more.
T'Challa, son of T'Chaka walked through the main room of the complex. S.H.I.E.L.D. had cleared out what they wanted, true, and what they considered dangerous, potentially, but they had done little to clean up behind the Defender's climactic battle and their own operation as well. There were scorch marks on many of the walls, no doubt a charred reminder of the Son of Satan's fiery trident. Too, the Panther had worked with the incredible Hulk enough to recognize the aftermath of the jade giant's carnage. Still, the Black Panther walked on, focusing his senses as he moved deeper into the musty, abandoned base.
***
"That's odd…"
T'Challa half-turned, glancing at his ally still focused on the computer monitor. "Is something wrong?" T'Challa asked, his keen hearing picking up faint echoes of rhythmic machinery elsewhere in the complex.
"I don't know." Richmond said, adjusting the monitor's resolution. "The security's motion detectors are registering movement a couple floors down, almost directly below us. I suppose it could be ghost images, but-"
The Black Panther was already in motion and out the door heading deeper into the base. Into the hallway he ran, empty and still dim, caught in the soft glow of the emergency lighting. He strained his senses as he ran, trying to hear, to smell anything or anyone who should not belong. He shrugged out of his overcoat as he ran, letting it fall to the floor as he entered the stairwell. He could feel his muscles churning, his heart pumping, charged with adrenaline as he leapt down the stairs taking each landing in one long stride. Within seconds he was standing at the doorway leading out into the level in question, two floors below where Richmond's 'ghost images' were. He pulled his cowl over his head and crouched, peering into the dim light ahead.
The hallway before him seemed as deserted as the upper levels of the complex. The air was still stagnant, and dust still coated the floors as far as the Black Panther could see into the darkness. He could hear movement though, coming from a room up ahead, though oddly he smelled no one beyond the Defender and himself. He could hear Richmond charging down the stairs, breathing hard and his feet slamming with every step. He was sweating in his long winter coat from the exertion, but the Panther tried to ignore the odor as he probed ahead.
"Jeez, Panther-" Richmond gasped as he crouched down beside the Black Panther. "Warn a body, would'ja? What's up?"
"I hear movement, there." The Panther pointed down the hall, towards a room apparently sealed. "Two people, men I think, but light on their feet."
"I'm not in costume," Richmond stated with a grimace, "but I got your back. Lead on, partner."
T'Challa scowled under his mask but said nothing. He knew that Richmond was a worthy friend and warrior; he had helped to save the world more than once, giving his very life at least twice, though it seemed that that was not so uncommon an act. Still, the Black Panther was a solitary hunter of late. He had found that he best worked alone.
"You should wait here. I-"
"No way!" the Defender snapped. "This is technically my property, and the site of my biggest failure. If someone's here, if something's happening, I'm in the middle of it!" T'Challa sighed-
"Very well. But let me go first." And before Richmond could respond the Panther was moving down the darkened hallway. Silently, stealthily, in three quick strides that were almost leaps he was beside the door in question. His senses were alert, at their peak as he strained to hear the slightest movement beyond the thick steel before him. He heard noise, footfalls, and he motioned for Richmond to wait.
There was a strip of tape across the door, a simple visual noting that S.H.I.E.L.D. Security had sealed the room, but as best as he could detect there was no lock. He saw no line of light beneath the door and assumed that whoever was inside were accustomed to working in darkness. That suited the Panther well. The dark of night was his element. He donned his gauntlets, then slit the tape with a clawed finger of one of the gloves. He glanced back at Richmond, edging into the hallway despite his warnings, then passed his hand before the electric eye beam that controlled the door and sprang into the room beyond as the door opened with a strained hiss.
There was a sudden silence within as the Panther's leap carried him across the room. He landed without a sound, rolling twice before coming to rest in a defensive crouch against the far wall. He scanned the room, his eyes adjusting to the lower lights in the confines of the room. There were low tables placed about the room, and banks of computers, stripped of their facings, their circuitry gutted lining one wall. The Panther saw at least three computer monitors left hanging on the walls that seemed operable at a glance, and in fact, the brightest light in the room was coming from the one farthest from his position, situated beside yet another reinforced security door. What caught the Avenger's attention however was the man that stood before the doors, cast in the ghastly glow of the monitor. The man that was staring directly at him-
He was a bizarre looking opponent, if foe he truly was. He looked vaguely familiar to the Panther, and he probed his own memory as he scrutinized the man, looking for weakness and vulnerability. The man was wearing a suit of almost skin-tight body armor, T'Challa could see the layered metallic plating glistening even in the low-light, shining with a slippery sheen. His facemask was a full hood, but sported an almost fish-like crest that ran down his back like a fin. His costume was garishly colored in shades of green and purple, hardly fit for darkness, and more for the ocean's depths. Most prevalent was the man's slashing, spiked tail that seemed prehensile as it swished along the floor behind him, and the long clawed fingers of his gloves.
"Death Adder?"
The Black Panther turned ever so slightly at the noise from the doorway. It was Richmond, of course. He was correct though, in all fairness to his unprofessional outburst. It did indeed seem to be the Death Adder, once an employee of Roxxon Oil turned mercenary and working for the supposedly defunct Serpent Squad/Society. At least according to the reports submitted by Captain America and his one time partner Diamondback.
"He's dead," Richmond went on, "isn't he?"
And Richmond was right of course. Death Adder was one of those killed by the mysterious assassin, Scourge a few years prior, a spree that apparently claimed the lives of many of the Avengers' old foes. Kyle Richmond was hardly in a position to question one's state of being however, and the Panther was about to remind him of that fact when a shadow dropped silently upon him from the ceiling, smashing him down into the cold tile floor.
***
Westchester was beautiful.
The snow had been falling north of the city for some time, and as far as Natalia could see, the land spread out as though covered in a soft, white blanket. Light flakes fluttered down and about Fury's Porsche, sailing away in the wake of the speeding car. There were wooded lands rolling below, a strip of slick gray highway cutting through the snow-laden trees and stretching off to the horizon, littered with cars sparkling in the bright sunlight that pierced the thin layer of clouds. In the rear monitor she could just make out the ghostly spires of Manhattan fading in and out of sight, almost lost to the thicker clouds they had left behind. Ahead in the distance she could see the town of Salem Center, their destination, growing closer with every passing second.
Salem Center was most probably what Natalia would consider quaint. It was small- only a few hundred residents- and barely a few miles wide. The buildings were short in stature as she recalled, the tallest perhaps ten stories, with shops catering to a more personal fare. The hustle and bustle of New York, or even the closer cities like New Rochelle had never invaded the peace and tranquility of quaint Salem Center. It reminded Natalia of Russia, or at least the Russia that she remembered growing up. Quiet, peaceful, like a childhood dream half remembered half imagined.
From the corner of her eye, the Black Widow saw her companion stiffen and tense. Immediately alert, expecting trouble, Natalia glanced out the window scanning the land below. They were passing over estates; large houses centered on vast, expensive tracks of land, the occasional ranch house, with the city proper still a mile or two ahead, and Xavier's school and estate some miles beyond that.
"Weird…" Fury grunted, gnawing on the bit of his cigar. His hands flashed over the myriad buttons and dials speckling the dashboard, whatever confusion he had experienced before at the newness of the car already forgotten. Natalia saw the car's internal monitor screens flicker almost faster than she could watch as he scrolled through several views of the lands below them. Something was bothering him.
"What?" she asked, glancing out the window again, trying to see what he saw in the quiet landscape below. "What is it?"
"I dunno. Could be nothin'." Fury banked the Boxster S into a long, swooping arch as the car came up and over the city. He dropped down, almost skimming the rooftops as he steered the Porsche into a large circle, flipping through the many views of the monitors as he went.
"The computer ain't pickin' up much motion down in the town," he pressed a button and the screen changed showing a stark, black and white view of the buildings, "an' it's hardly showin' any heat signatures. Mainly dogs an' cats, an' other animals. Hardly any people at all…"
"It is a work day, Nicholas. Perhaps most of the town is in Manhattan."
"Maybe." He agreed, but Natalia noted that he turned on the car's Global Positioning Tracker- standard procedure. "Salem Center's pretty self-contained though. Most a' the residents have their own in town businesses. There should be plenty a' people about, mindin' their stores. There should be more folks at the hospital too, an' the schools. Discountin' the animals, I'm getting maybe five hundred-odd heat blips outta the twelve hundred listed in the population."
"Seven hundred people unaccounted for?" The Black Widow sat up in her seat at this news. That was definitely 'weird'. Her mind immediately raced through the possible scenarios that would explain why seven hundred people were missing; a plague, a mass kidnapping, a hostage situation. It was all ridiculous. There was no reason that Salem Center would be targeted for any type of attack. Their only claim to any type of fame would be their proximity to the X-Men's home base, and that was not public knowledge.
It was private knowledge, however…
"Shaw…"
"That'd be my guess." Fury banked the car, angling the Porsche higher and away from the town, heading towards Xavier's mansion. "It's way too coincidental that somethin's happenin' on the X-Men's doorstep right after we're investigatin' Shaw an’ the Serpents."
Natalia nodded, but did not say anything at first. She knew that Sebastian Shaw was a villain, at least according to the files of the Avengers and the X-Men. Not a gaudily clad super-villain, rather a subtle man, working behind the scenes, using his vast wealth to steer the world into a scenario more to his liking. Natalia had read the reports. She had seen the files. Too many close friends and allies had listed him as dangerous- evil. She had not seen that however, and it was hard to accept, though she knew that eventually she might have to. Still-
"I don't think-" Natalia stopped in mid-sentence, seeing with her own eyes what the car's monitors displayed just a fraction of a second sooner. Fury had been following the road out of town, flying overhead still, at a rapid pace. All too soon the Black Widow saw the mob of people marching down that self-same road, a long string of people massing, stretching for over a mile. In the distance she could see a great clot of people ahead, a mob, gathering at the gates of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngster's, the headquarters of the Uncanny X-Men.
The computer counted the crowd at well over seven hundred people, focusing on individual heat signatures in the glowing mass that appeared on the monitor screen. Obviously the missing townspeople, all gathered together and advancing on Xavier's Mansion. Why, Natalia had no idea, but she had suspicions. They were milling about, a few fists raised, some holding weapons. There was shouting, and as Fury adjusted the long-range cameras, Natalia could see that several held the sculpted wooden club resembling a snake- the signature of the Sons of the Serpent.
Fury was already on the radio even before the Widow could question what she was seeing-
"Central…This is Exec. Director, level one, Fury! We have a code Delta-9 Umbra. Requesting back-up immediately via current GPC…Mark! Files away!"
The Black Widow watched as Fury hit another sequence of buttons that caused the internal monitors to flicker for a heartbeat. She recalled that 'Delta' was a potential mob threat, but she had been too long from the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D. to know what the numbers referred to. Standard operating procedure usually meant that the codes were changed at regular intervals, so what she recalled might not even be pertinent any longer. Fury had identified himself, and called for back-up. That much she knew.
Fury steered the car low, passing over the crowd as he adjusted the external cameras and scanners on the mob. The audio was low, but Natalia could hear the anger in the upraised voices. She could hear the slurs, the derogatory curses as rocks and balls of slushy snow bounced harmlessly off of the car's force screen. She could see the sheer hatred in the many faces, all twisted in anger, with bigotry. One word echoed above the rest, over and over again;
"Mutie! Mutie!"
"My god…" Natalia whispered, remembering food riots in Moscow when she was little. The people had been just as fevered then, just as angry. Many had died in those intense days of her youth, and since, for other reasons than a stale crust of bread. It was madness-
"That ain't the worst of it!"
The Black Widow watched as Fury changed the view on the monitors once again. It took a moment for her to focus on the scene that she was seeing, the monitor flickering, showing the ghostly image of a lone figure atop the wall surrounding the estate. She could hear the low guttural growls as the car's boom mike aimed at the figure, suddenly awash in a spotlight. The growls turned into howls as Natalia recognized the bizarre crest of dark hair, the diminutive, muscular form, the razor sharp claws protruding from the back of his hands-
"Logan…" she whispered, and Fury grunted in agreement.
"Yeah! It's the Canuckle-head all right. An' it looks like he's ready ta wade inta the mob. 'Puter's readin' his bios off the scale. He's in a rage-"
"Land, Fury!" Natalia shouted, straining at her safety harness. "For god's sake! He'll rip that crowd apart!"
Natalia Alianovna Romanova knew all too well what her Canadian friend was capable of, and how much worse it became when he was caught in the fury of one of his patented 'berserker rages'. Logan- the X-Man code named Wolverine- was a feral mutant. His special gifts were animalistic in nature, giving him enhanced senses far beyond a normal man's range, increased strength and endurance, and a 'healing factor' that made him almost invulnerable. Like an animal, however, he on occasion fell victim to his baser instincts. When pushed too far, he succumbed to the animal side of his nature and lashed out, more often than not, just like a cornered or wounded beast. He was like an animal, like his namesake, striking out at any and all about him, caught in a blood lust rage that would not be abated until he wore his body out to the point that reason regained control. Far worse however was the fact that Wolverine's bones, his entire skeletal frame was laced with a version of the nigh unbreakable metal known as Adamantium. This, added to his healing factor, made him almost stubbornly unstoppable. He would keep attacking, with claws of Adamantium, slashing at anyone he deemed to be a foe, until he was rendered senseless or fought his way free from the grip of his rage. Natalia had seen him in his feral anger before, too many times not to recognize it in the form snarling atop the slick, snow swept wall. Fury apparently recognized it as well.
"Christ-"
Natalia stared at the figure of her friend as he stared back at her in passing. His eyes were crackling red and wild. His face was twisted, almost seeming to be in pain, and quite possibly so. Natalia knew that her friend had fought long and hard to suppress his animalistic rage. The car sped by, Logan's howl echoing from the staticky speakers as Natalia shifted her gaze to the rear-view monitor. Her brows knitted as the sudden cloud of smoke billowing in their wake puzzled her, filling the view screen. She glanced at Fury, watching as he watched the scene behind them, a slight smirk playing at his lips.
"Sleep gas…Totally harmless."
The Black Widow watched as Fury steered the car into a tight turn, spiraling back on the crowd and passing low over their heads. The cloud of yellowish gas spewing from the rear of the car settled over the mob like a blanket, roiling in the wake of the flying car's slip stream, billowing out to envelope all the people gathered below. Even Wolverine staggered with the first whiff of gas, almost falling from his precarious perch atop the wall. Natalia watched as the sleep gas rolled over him, gasped as he lost his footing and almost fell, then snarled and leapt. She lost sight of the feral mutant as he dove through the camera's line of sight, disappearing beneath the body of the car. She cringed to hear his Adamantium claws scraping along the undercarriage of the Porsche, metal grating on metal. Fingernails on a chalkboard, but a thousand times worse!
She heard Fury curse as warning indicators lit up all across the dashboard, accompanied by the slightly harsh trill of a chirping alarm. He flicked switches and turned dials, and Natalia could hear the mechanisms within the car jumping to the Colonel's commands. One by one the warning lights flickered and dimmed, and before long the car was soaring skyward once more. Natalia glanced at the external monitors, but Wolverine was nowhere to be seen, lost in the thick yellow mist that flowed like a river across the ground.
The car rose slowly, banking wide back over the grounds of the Xavier Institute as gravity tried to hold it down. Fury worked the controls with a practiced ease, casually stabilizing the Boxster as it started to shake.
"I dunno what Logan did. Cracked the axle, cut the gas line- we're losin' power! I gotta find a place ta set down." Natalia nodded, immediately scanning the snowy fields below, looking for a place that Fury might land the car.
The Widow gasped as something; a shadow passed through her line of sight. It was fast, flitting, and as soon as she had seen it, it was gone.
"Nicholas! There's someone-"
"I know. I saw her."
"Her?"
"Storm!"
Suddenly she rose into view. She was glorious, riding the airwaves, soaring on the wind. Her long white hair whirled and whipped about her face as she seemingly swam through the darkening sky with a cat-like grace. Her skin was dark and glistening, the slight shift that she wore doing little to hide her modesty. Her eyes were bright, crackling with energy. She smiled, Natalia saw it, and in the distance thunder rumbled.
Lightning flared as she gestured, crashing down from on high and piercing the car. There was a squeal as the car's internal electronics erupted in a flash of power, setting the cab awash in a blinding glare. The Porsche shook as thunder slammed down from above, threatening to drive them into the ground. The wind outside increased again and again, the force of the gusts causing Fury to strain at the steering column, cursing all the more.
"We're done, 'Tasha! Circuits're fried!"
As if on cue, the final light on the dash went out. Natalia felt the car lurch, and saw her friend struggling but knew that there was not a thing he could do. The car started to dive-
"Emergency batteries engaged…"
A feminine voice cut through the sudden silence as a faint glow of red filled the cabin. The Black Widow saw a handful of emergency lights flicker to life, several indicators suddenly flashing a staccato amber message.
"Emergency landing sequence activated. Buffers deployed-"
"Damn it!" Fury shouted as air bag balloons started to expand about the car inside and out. It was an emergency measure, no doubt thought up by Fury's chief designer at S.H.I.E.L.D.- the Gaffer. Natalia heard the sound of gas expanding a bag and suddenly one billowed about her like an over-stuffed pillow. A second later it exploded with a deafening 'pop', and the Widow winced to see Fury, his boot knife flashing and spinning as he slid it back into hiding. He glanced at her as she stripped the shredded fabric from her face and neck. He tried to force a smile-
"Sorry, Widda. Sorry…"
Fury hit a switch on the turn signal lever, and too late Natalia realized just what he had done. She heard the airtight seal of the car break as the computer's voice sounded again-
"Passenger ejection seat activated."
The door suddenly flew away in a small explosion and, caught in the gale force winds beyond, quickly vanished into the thickening sky. Thunder boomed, and the air was sharp with the smell of burnt ozone. The Widow screamed Fury's name as she shot into the sky, propelled by a fiery burst of rockets.
Natalia tried to watch as the ejector seat arched up and away. Acceleration twisted her face and brought tears to her eyes, but she was determined to watch, to see the fate of the car and her friend. She could barely see it in the storm, snow whipping past, the frozen crystals of ice slashing at her cheeks. The Porsche veered, rocking in the wind, then spiraled down, a plume of smoke quickly dispersing in its wake. She lost sight of it as her chair leaned back, deploying still more balloons as she rolled and started to fall.
It was a long way down…