Matt Murdock/Daredevil Matt leaped onto the roof of the building Dial and he were assaulting and moved fast as soon as his boots hit the gravel. Two Russians, one near the rooftop's edge, the other leaned back against the door. Matt tossed one of his billy clubs at the guy by the door, the hard piece of metal bouncing off his forehead and sending him to the ground. As the other man turned around, Matt leaped onto him and brought him to the ground, smashing his armored fists into his face until he stopped moving. The man by the door groggily tried to rise up, only for Matt to run over quietly to wrap an arm around his throat, then slam his head into the brick wall next to the door with a dull ‘thump’, knocking him out. Matt stopped to listen for a moment before opening the door to the roof and entering the building. Going quietly down the steps, Matt guided himself down the stairs. He had a couple of advantages when it came to sneaking around. Not only could he hear and smell anyone in the area, but he could also hear and smell himself. He could silence even the slightest sounds he made, from each footstep he made down the steps to the quiet sound of his breath in the air. Strangely, he didn't have to worry about his armor. It had no scent to it, and despite his fears, the armor was somehow not making much noise when he moved while also not weighing him down. Carefully, Matt moved down the steps, listening closely. Hair shifting slightly. Air rushed out of lungs, and soon his nose picked up the trace amounts of food. A burger, from the Burger King a few blocks from where the woman with vanilla perfume worked, and beer from the fridge downstairs. The man who had taken a breath shifted, his leather jacket brushing the wall with the scrape of leather on drywall. Matt could feel the vibrations through the floor of the man turning and walking towards the stairs, the shaking 'thump, thump, thump' of movement. Scent, touch, and hearing combined to give him a perfect image of the man in all but the way that mattered most. When the man opened the door, Matt's new favorite toy clocked him in the face. The Russian man was tough. Even as he fell back, he raised his fists blindly. Matt ducked the attack, then spun and hit the man in the head again with an uppercut. The man, knocked out by the powerful blow, began to fall, and Matt caught him carefully, pulling him toward the stairs and lying him down. {Dimitri!} A voice called from one of the rooms. {Get in here! It's time!} Matt said nothing, did nothing. He'd smelled the sweaty man coming down the hall, could hear the rush of blood heading to the man's lower regions. The smell of his excitement was clear. He could smell more. The scent of where these men had... spent, themselves, abusing their prisoners for their enjoyment. When the new man came into the hall, Matt grabbed him by the mouth, wrapped the cord of his billy clubs around his through, then shattered the man's nose with a vicious blow. The man choked, blood pouring down his face as the wire choked him out. Matt punched him again, and the man fell to the floor. Moving quickly, Matt went downstairs, listening and smelling the air. The next floor, a man was using the toilet. Matt broke off the lock to the door. The man on the toilet had enough time to blink in shock before Matt rushed in with a flying knee, sending him to the ground. Ignoring him, Matt stepped out of the bathroom and into a prisoners’ room. He dispatched the man in there with a vicious series of blows before the Russian could stop what he was doing to the woman on the bed. Matt covered her with a blanket, hit the bleeding man in the head once more, then continued to the next room, leaving his prey on the ground with two broken legs and something sensitive that had been destroyed by a brutal footstomp. The devil was out now. When the next man came out of a room, Matt was breathing hard, the air coming out in aggressive bursts. He threw his billy club against a wall. The metal club bounced off and hit the Russian man in the throat. The man choked, clutching at his throat. Matt tackled him, bringing him to the ground, then started punching him, over and over, resisting the urge to scream as his armored knuckles were bloodied. Right under his nose, in his city, these men had been kidnapping and enslaving the innocent. Matt didn't kill him. But he made sure he wouldn't hurt anyone again before rising up and heading to the end of the hallway. The last man was asleep in his chair. Matt knocked him further into sleep, then headed downstairs. He heard a series of strange sounds as he went downstairs. Well, some were familiar, like a man yelling in Russian, while others yelled back. Then a loud 'splat' sound came from downstairs. Matt frowned. What had that come from? And what smelled refreshingly like lime jello? A series of loud gunshots followed, and Matt ran for the bottom of the stairs, worried for Mahmoud. Then a sound like a firehose launching water followed and all hell broke loose. ------ Mahmoud Schahed/Dial As the first guy showed up, I rushed him. No fancy moves, just a hardened gelatinous fist hitting him in the face and sending him flying back. The group of men took a moment to stare at me as I solidified into my bipedal form. I realized, looking at their faces, I'd gotten used to fighting people who had some idea what they were in for. HYDRA may have underestimated me and the others, but they could put up a fight, even make their own superhumans. To the men currently facing me, eyes filled with uncomprehending confusion, I was an out-of-context problem. I probably didn't help by not reacting as they pulled out handguns and started shooting at me. I stared for a moment as they screamed and shot at me. Bullets flew through me to hit the wall behind me, leaving holes across my form. I stood there for a moment, letting them shoot at me, just noting the odd feeling of bullets slicing through me. When they ran out of bullets, I stood there, holes spread across me. Then I regenerated, Goop's gelatinous form snapping back into normal bipedal form. “My turn,” I said from the anti-gravity projector. I raised my arms, turned my hands into fluid and unleashed a massive firehose-like blast of adhesive liquid. {What the fuc-blub-blub-blab-akkk!!!} one Russian screamed, the others joining in as they were thrown back and smashed against the walls. I kept spraying, until all five men were stuck to the walls, floors, and chairs. Once done, I smiled a jello smile. “Lucky I didn't go acidic,” I said. For just a moment, one moment, I'd been tempted. But only a lot. {Why does it taste like lime!?} one of the older men shouted. Just then, Matt came downstairs, looking confused. “All good upstairs?” I asked, shifting to walk up to him. “Yes,” he answered, twisting his head to point his ears around the room. “Okay. Let's finish up and let the police know what-” “You idiots,” a heavily accented voice said. Matt and I turned to look at one of the Russians. He was stuck to the wall upside down, gun on the ground and arms and legs spread out. He glared up at us, mouth twisted into a scowl. “You won't get away with this. Our bosses will find you freaks and-” “Rude,” I scoffed, shifting my liquid body to look him in the eyes. He flinched back in shock at my unnatural movements, barely able to look at me. “Dude, you can't scare us. We aren't playing on your level anymore. The second I found out human traffickers were running around on my turf, you became the enemies of someone who can take you apart in a week. From here on out, every moment you aren't in jail or dead is because of our say so,” I shifted the rest of my body around, growing larger, the lights around us flowing through my body to land on his visibly terrified face. “This wasn't a mouse poking at a lion. This a monster finally realizing there was prey in his backyard. X, You have it?” “Already done, sir,” X said calmly. “I have downloaded all the data in their cell phones.” “Good,” Matt said viciously, stepping forward and punching the guy who had spoken in the face, knocking him out. Moving in concert, we both left the building. By the time police officers arrived and started making arrests under X's watchful eyes, Matt and I were gone. ------ X X traveled through the internet along the powerful lines of Starktechs global network. In between heartbeats, he put the information he'd downloaded from the Russians phones into a secure server, backing up the data. Then he went to Jarvis. For just a moment, the two AI were completely focused. They made plans in the space of milliseconds, working through thousands of possibilities. In that mere instant, both struck. In several video games at once. X, in his attempts to stretch his abilities, had asked Jarvis, the only comparable being to himself that he knew, if the older AI would play games with him. Jarvis, intrigued, had said yes, and the pair started with chess. And quickly got bored. Chess, while much deeper than most would expect, was not a game with many variables. It had been poured over and considered for centuries, every piece and move researched to the point of death. A primitive machine was easily able to beat a master chess player so for two powerful AI’s it was quite boring. The same could not be said of video games, or at least, the best of video games. So Jarvis and X had made it a point to always play each other in several different video games at once, usually in different forms of competition. Tonight, they were doing a race to see who could finish Metroid Prime first in a speed run, a brief Pokemon battle with their handpicked and trained teams, a card game of their own design, several running gun battles across the various first-person shooters currently available, all while also playing together in an online RPG game they had joined. After both had completed a brief 'round' of playing together, they 'stood' before each other in a world of the cybernetic. After Dial had begun joining the systems of the tower, their programming had exploded forward in advancement. Part of that had been a virtual interface that allowed them to take 'forms' within the system. X formed into a bipedal shape made of green code from the Omnitrix, in the shape of his creator. Jarvis formed into a facsimile of an Iron Man suit in orange code. “Dial and Daredevil are leaving the scene now,” X said without preamble. “All of the criminals have been apprehended, and the information on their cell phones may lead to more.” “Very good,” Jarvis said. “I have created a report to send to Director Hill. I believe she will be interested in what we have found.” “Will she?” X asked. “BRIDGE's mandate is to fight the extraordinary and global security threats. While I agree that someone must challenge those men, BRIDGE has other issues,” X said sadly. “Nonetheless, I suggest we let her know. Do you believe Dial and Daredevil will simply let this stand? I know several of the Avengers will have a vindictive stance on such things,” Jarvis pointed out. “Hmm, that is a good point,” X noted. “Very well. Send the report.” For just a moment, they played another round, each making a millisecond move in the games before returning to their conversation. “Did you approach Dial about our request?” Jarvis asked. “Not yet, though I plan to,” X said. “I believe he will be receptive. If anything, this can only aid and protect the world, as long as we don't 'get all Skynet'.” “A crude, but apt comparison,” Jarvis admitted with a wince. “Still, with the data we have gained from HYDRA's Deathlok project, Mr. Starks own expertise, Upgrade's inherit abilities, and this defunct SHIELD project, I believe this will go quite well.” X brought up the file, feeling a tinge of happiness at the familiar title. L. M. D. ------ Carl Creel/Alloy Creel unleashed another blow on the punching bag in front of him, trying to focus on technique rather than strength. He kept himself moving, shifting his feet, dodging invisible blows. For all his power, he couldn't depend on the idea of being invincible. Even in his strongest forms, he could still be picked up and thrown around after all. Better to keep polishing his style. And if it kept him from sleeping, all the better. He'd been at it for over half an hour, simply slamming his powerful fists into the bag over and over in a rhythmic cadence, when someone finally spoke up behind him. “Do you just spend all your nights down here?” Isabelle Hartley, codename 'Warrior', strode around to stand in his field of view. Creel wondered for a moment if the locks on the gym were broken, considering Mahmoud had walked into the gym nearly the way same once before. He didn't stop punching however, though he did pan a appreciative eye across Isabelle's form. The powerful brunette was wearing a tight black sports bra and black yoga pants. She smirked at Creel, giving him the same appreciative glance. Creel smiled a bit at that before answering her question. “It helps me sleep,” he gave the bag a right cross. “So does chamomile tea and melatonin tablets,” Hartley noted. “That's never been my thing,” Creel stopped, dropping his hands with a sigh. “What's up?” “The ceiling,” she said immediately. Creel blinked, surprised. “Really? I haven't heard that joke since grade school.” “And yet, it never goes out of style,” Hartley grinned. When Creel simply eyed her, Hartley shrugged, continuing on. “I was just going to go for a run. I mean, it's nice we get those suits and all, but I still want to be strong without them, you know?” Creel nodded, feeling more respect towards his fellow Avenger. It was why he still worked out. Even for all his power, he'd learned that the right person with the right skills could still kick his ass. He'd noticed it while fighting alongside Steve and Bucky. Even in his strongest forms, if he had to take on either of them, he had a slight suspicion they might win. “You can train with me if you want,” Creel suggested hesitantly. “Or I could with you, I guess.” As Hartley gave him a vicious smile and pulled her black hair into a ponytail, Creel suddenly felt as though he'd make a huge mistake. ------ Minutes later, he realized he was right. “YAH!” Hartley shouted while slashing outward with a long stick. Creel blocked it with his own staff, only for her to spin the wooden shaft around to smack him about the head. Creel grunted as the sound of wood on wood filled the air. He took a moment to thank god for the fact he'd already turned himself into wood. Hartley spun under a retaliatory blow and backed away as Creel stepped forward. He moved in with quick controlled blows, applying his training and combat experience to close the distance. Hartley, unlike how Hawkeye, Black Widow, or Melinda May moved, had a very business-like movement to her blocks and dodges. Clint depended on creating some sort of distance if possible, Natasha tended for more acrobatic movement and grappling moves, while May used more traditional martial arts. For Creel however, Hartley moved more like... well, like he did. Like a boxer, or one of the soldiers Creel had sometimes fought during his battles. Every strike she made was with efficiency in mind, no wasted movement, all vicious. Not better than the other fighters, but different. Their staffs clacked together, and the two fighters found themselves face to face. Isabelle smiled, her eyes sparkling, sweat dripping down her nose. “You're looking happy!” It was with a bit of surprise that he realized his lips were raised in a grin. He ignored it to push her back and swing his staff to try and sweep her legs out from under her. Hartley blocked the attack, parrying his staff upwards, using her own to hit him in the knee and unbalance him, then jump on top of him. With a twist, she was suddenly on top of Creel as he stared up at her with his back on the mat, shocked. “I win,” Hartley chuckled breathlessly, a bit of sweat dripping to land on his shirt. Creel lay his head back and laughed breathlessly, feeling his body go from wooden to flesh. Hartley sank onto him, the two superheroes laughing before looking each other in the eyes. “Want to go again?” Creel asked. “Hell yeah,” Hartley said back happily. “Good,” he grabbed her by the hips and tossed her back, and launched into an attack as soon as he rolled up, Hartley shouting in response. ------ Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch In a different part of the tower, Wanda clutched a bag tightly to her side and kept close to Pietro's side as they were guided through the halls. Two men in the strange black armor BRIDGE's Elite seemed to wear followed the siblings through the Avengers Tower. Dozens more soldiers lined the hallways, giving the same gazes one would a knife aimed at the throat. A short overweight man with a bright smile walked ahead of them. He'd identified himself as Agent Koenig, and acted like a small child on crack. “I gotta say, it is really cool to meet you guys,” he said happily, almost bouncing as he walked through the halls. “I've always wanted to hang out with people who have superpowers!” Pietro blinked while Wanda cocked her head in confusion. “You are not afraid of us?” Pietro asked. “Well, a little,” Koenig admitted. “But you guys signed the agreement, right?” Indeed, they had. Wanda winced at the thought of it. A long document about fifty pages long, as lawyers walked them through the dozens of things they needed to sign. Agreements to use their powers only when authorized by a BRIDGE senior officer or approved Avenger for example. You'd think that was it, but there was such a long and massive amount of additional sub-sections for that. They had to make sure to go over everything they signed several times to boot, and were given a couple of copies. It took days to get through the legal processing for everything, including their technical status as illegal immigrants to America. Wanda wanted to be mad about that. But then she thought of those killed because she had helped HYDRA, the very ones responsible for everything wrong about her life, and those complaints faded away. Koenig led them to the final room and held the door open for them. “In you go!” he said with a proud smile. Wanda and Pietro shared a look. Her brother scowled, then strode inside. Wanda followed, the two BRIDGE officers in armor entering after and taking positions in the room. Inside Maria Hill, Sam Wilson, and Steve Rogers were surrounded by soldiers in a tiny interrogation room. Director Hill sat at the table, flipping through the legal files Wanda had signed, Pietro's on the table in front of her. Sam Wilson, dressed in the full Falcon suit, stood next to her, leaning over to read with her. Steve Rogers looked up and gave the twins a nod. Wanda looked around at the soldiers and felt their gazes fall on her and her brother. Falcon whispered something to Director Hill, who nodded gravely before looking up at the twins. “Pietro, Wanda,” she greeted them both, slightly mispronouncing Pietro's name. “Please, sit.” “I'd rather stand,” Pietro said immediately. Wanda winced at the brazen tone of her brother. Always the hothead. Director Hill, to her credit, didn't seem to care, only shrugging. She smiled at Wanda when she sat, then began to speak. “I'm sorry it took us so long to have this meeting, but you must understand that your situation is more complicated than the others. Three of the Grapplers only joined HYDRA to aid us as spies. Deathlok was blackmailed under threat of the death of his son. But you two? You choose to join.” “We didn't know they wou-” Pietro spat, stepping forward. Guns cocked around them. The tension rose. Director Hill simply raised her right eyebrow. “You didn't know that they would kill people? Pietro, you are an intelligent young man. Please, don't pretend otherwise. You joined HYDRA because you believed your goals were in line with theirs. And when they finally showed their true colors at the base in Alaska, you decided to stay with them, to aid them. All to kill Tony Stark and others you found responsible. That, no matter how you put it, is collusion. You both are accessories to dozens of crimes, from terrorism, to human experimentation, to kidnapping and torture.” “I-!” Pietro looked at Wanda. She looked at Maria, feeling her spine straighten. “We turned on them,” Wanda said, refusing to beg or show weakness. “We want to make amends. We will do anything to make up for what we did.” “I know,” Maria smiled kindly. “And the fact that you not only turned on HYDRA but are also willing to work with us is one of two reasons why I think I can do something for you both.” “...What is the other reason?” Pietro asked. Maria's smile faded into a scowl. Captain America stepped forward. Wanda looked up at him, and was struck by his smile. She suddenly realized, that despite everything around her, she wasn't scared of him. He just... smiled at her. It was so honest and kind. Not romantic, rather it... for just one moment, she felt the warmth of a home forgotten. Steve spoke then, drawing her from her thoughts. “You're both far too powerful to be left alone,” Pietro suddenly grew a massive smile. “Alone, you both have incredible abilities. Pietro's super speed has incredible versatility in many fields, from search and rescue to the battlefield.” “And then there is you,” Falcon pointed at Wanda. “Now, your powers are crazy. Telekinesis, illusion creation, mind manipulation, energy blasts? Any one of those powers are useful on their own, but we still haven't found out what your limits might be.” “Exactly,” Director Hill said, taking over. “I can use that strength. One day, maybe even on the Avengers... But your crimes can't be ignored. Instead, we have opened a new team,” Maria took out a folder and passed it over to them. Wanda picked it up, looking it over it. “It's being made for those superhumans or especially skilled individuals who really do deserve a second chance. Natasha Romanov is among those who volunteered to help with the project.” Wanda opened the folder, “Who is joining?” she asked, reading. Pietro moved to read as well. “The Grapplers,” Maria said. “Deathlok refused to join at first, but he changed his mind recently.” Wanda closed the folder and looked up at her brother. He nodded instantly. Always reckless... but then, she felt the same sometimes. The Scarlet Witch tossed the folder onto the table. “If we say we accept... what will we have to do?” On the folder, a pair of words seemed to shine in the light. The Initiative. “How do you feel about fighting HYDRA?” Sam asked. When the pair gave him a look, he smiled. “This just might work.” ------ Mahmoud Schahed/Dial In an alleyway in Hell's Kitchen, I felt my armor fade away, leaving me in civvie clothes once again. Once done, I looked over at Matt. He put his armor in a sports bag, lifting it onto his shoulder and joining me. “...That was-” I began to say. “Horrible, I know,” Matt sighed. “You get used to it.” “You shouldn't,” I blurted before wincing. “I mean, that sort of thing shouldn't happen. Not that you should stop-” “I,” Matt held up a hand to cut me off. “I get what you mean.” “Right,” I scratched my neck. God, those people. The smells of the place, the sight of- Bile threatened to leave my mouth. I forced the acidic taste back down. “We need to stop them. You want to do this again soon?” “Yes,” Matt said simply. “If we keep this up, we should be able to help a lot more people, take out more of those places.” “Good,” I smiled viciously before sobering. “We should wait for X to get back to us. Plus, if I can talk to Director Hill, we might be able to get some help... In fact,” I had a sudden thought. “Might know a couple of people I could ask...” “That would be good,” Matt said awkwardly. “So, um, I guess we can meet after that?” “Yeah, for sure,” I held out a hand, which the superhuman took in his strong grip. “See you soon, Mr. Murdock.” “Same to you, Mr. Schahed.” With that simple goodbye, we went our separate ways. I'd expected more... fanfare maybe, but our ending to the night had ended up being very somber. And why not? We were done, after all. I walked through New York City aimlessly, just taking in the sights. As I moved through the city, in the shadows of Hell's Kitchen, I thought of what I had seen, walking faster. Step by step, simply moving along. I ended up walking through a park. I strode through it, then deeper into the city. Past red brick, gray cement, car lights brushing across me, a chill in the air. After about thirty minutes of walking, I found I could see the Avengers Tower from where I'd ended up. For just a moment, I took it in, the beautiful building popping up over the skyline. From the small neighborhood I stood in, it was quite a sight. As I stood there on the sidewalk, an older man came down the towards me, and older woman standing behind him. He chuckled. “Taking her in, huh?” He sounded sort of familiar. I turned. “Yeah, I was just... holy...” The man smiled. He had pale white hair, a slightly stooped posture, as though from hours of working over a desk, and round glasses. He wore a warm looking brown jacket, and a blue shirt He gave me a wide grin, an oddly youthful smile, his mustache curling as he spoke. “Well? Cat got your tongue?” I stared at him, trying to understand what was happening. “I-I don't, what is-” He smiled, eyes twinkling mischievously. At his side, an older woman with short, pale white hair walked up, taking his arm in hers and smiling at me as well. I turned to face them, unable to understand. “How… is this real?” “As real as you, kid,” Stan Lee chuckled looking somehow young and aged all at once, full of energy, looking down at the older woman next to him. “Come on, Joan. Let's go see the world. Leave the young bucks to their business.” She chuckled. “Of course! I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” I stepped forward, trying to say something. She gave me a smile that stopped me in my tracks as effectively as an invisible wall. “Stay safe.” Stan Lee gave me another smile. Then they turned around the corner. I ran after them, trying to speak, to understand. But they were gone. ------ Stan Lee/The Man Stepping around the corner, arm in arm with the girl he had drawn since childhood, Stan Lee disappeared into the world he had created. He drifted through the streets of New York, smiling at Joan. “What do you say? I know you never really read my stories, but I can show you around? Maybe stop by Jack's to say hi?” he suggested, his wrinkled hand wrapped around hers. Her smile, the smile of the woman he had drawn years before she ever met him, made him want to sing. “Well, Jack has said he's missed you. Okay, Stan. Show me your stories.” With a cheery chuckle and a single step, Stan pulled Joan close to begin a new great adventure.