Project: Sapphire

[Nick Fury]

Administration was an annoying part of Fury's job. How he longed for the good old days, where the enemy was in front of him. Caught in his gunsights. Nowadays, it seemed the enemy mostly sat in on budget committee meetings.

Going through old files was normally a task for much lower-ranking troopers, but there were a very few things that were classified Fury's eyes-only. Meaning he was one of probably a dozen human beings on the face of the planet that knew such things existed.

The rest were dead under mysterious circumstances. Some by Fury's own hand.

He glanced through several of these files. Some of them returned to the encoded file drawer. Others were fed into an incinerator chute. Nearing the end of the stack, he paused as he read the label.

Project: Sapphire.

His heart skipped a couple of beats. That was a name he hadn't heard of in a while. And even after all this time, he still found himself suddenly breaking out in a cold sweat.

[Nick Fury]

***The Pentagon. Several years ago.***

Fury hated this building. It was oppressive government architecture at its worst.

Oh, it was briskly businesslike outwardly. The taxpayers on their guided tours liked to see their money well spent on clean-cut, courteous public servants going about their duties in a cheerful and efficient manner.

The depths of the Pentagon, however, could be truly frightening places.

It was to these depths that Fury now went, muttering curses under his breath and ignoring the startled glances of bureaucrats and military officers as he stomped past a pair of Marine sentries into an elevator.

Holding his ID card up to a card reader, the door immediately snapped shut. A small panel slid open near the floor selection buttons, and a palmprint scanner emerged. Fury tugged off a glove and placed his hand on the scanner, which glowed red and beeped. Another device emerged from the wall, and ran a scanner beam over his left eye.

The one with the patch.

Fury gritted his teeth as the machine scanned, and re-scanned in apparent electronic confusion. He stepped to the left, and the scanner happily settled on his right eye. A mechanical voice spoke.

"Please state your name for voiceprint identification."

"Sure ya don't want me ta piss in a cup first?" Fury snorted.

A long pause. "Voiceprint recognized. Welcome, Colonel Fury."

The elevator rapidly began moving down. The floor counter had stopped at Basement a long time ago before it came to a stop and slid open. Fury stepped out, and glanced around.

He didn't remember coming here before. He had been places in Washington that most Presidents had only heard rumors about, but this was different. The hallway was dimly lit, with no carpet or other decoration. Simply a bare tunnel of concrete lit by a few dim bulbs.

Two guards were posted by the elevator doors, but they weren't the handsome, clean-cut Marines in their spotless dress blues. They wore black BDUs, including ski masks and goggles that covered every inch of their faces. The MP-10s in their hands were locked and loaded. One of them motioned down the hall.

"End of the hall, sir. Should take you ten seconds. Any longer, and we have orders to shoot."

Fury stared at him, and the man gripped his weapon slightly tighter. Turning on his heel, he stalked towards the only door in the hall, all the way at the end. He made it a point to take exactly ten seconds.

He stepped through the door, and closed it quietly behind him.

He really hadn't been briefed much on this meeting. Only that it was a Most Secret-level project, headed by a group identified only as the Jugglers. There was no notification on which department it was under, who funded it, who it answered to, or where it fell in chain-of-command. Nothing. Only a “we need to talk to you.”

“Thank you for coming, Colonel Fury. Please, have a seat.”

Fury nodded as he turned around, and then was brought up short for a moment.

Fury had seen many things in his long career. Most of which would remain classified hundreds of years after his death. Even the things that could eventually be declassified would toss everything the public knew (or thought they knew) about aliens, vampires, conspiracies, and the like into a cocked hat. Fury had looked upon things that human beings simply weren’t supposed to look at, and still was able to walk away and sleep at night.

For some reason, the men sitting in the shadows around the conference table in front of him froze his very soul.

[Nick Fury]

Fury slowly took a seat as his eye attempted to adjust to the dim room. It was a well-appointed but simple affair, with bureaucrat-chic furniture that was functional, but not particularly pleasant to look at. The only light came from small desk lamps in front of every seat at the table, and in every seat a shadowed form sat. Fury could tell by the cut of the clothing and of the faint glints of brass that each man there was a highly decorated, high ranking military officer, seemingly representing every branch of the United States military. Strangely, ignoring the uniform regulations, each of them still wore their hat, effectively rendering their faces invisible in the dim light.

Every instinct that Fury possessed was screaming that he did not want to be in a room with these men. This was trouble the likes of which he hadn’t seen in a long time. Of course, if Fury always listened to his inner voice, he’d be sitting on the deck of his Palm Springs beachhouse right now, drinking rum and having oil rubbed into him by nubile young women of loose moral character.

Fury lit a cigar. “Well, here we are. Now suppose you tell me who you are and what this little powwow is about.”

The figure at the head of the table spoke. “We are known as the Jugglers, Colonel Fury. That will do for now. Normally we are tasked to oversee military operations deemed too…politically unsavory…for the public’s ears. That includes Congress, and even the President at times. Our main method of operation is a highly secret mobile strike force, but they are usually deployed against a global terrorist organization led by a raving madman who wears blue hankies over his head. And anyway, this team doesn’t usually deal with the type of situation that has presented itself to us.”

Another figure slid a file folder across the table. “SHIELD deals in the paranormal, correct?”

Fury snorted softly, but nodded. However, most people would be surprised at how normal the “paranormal” really was.

The shadowy figure spoke again. “That file contains data on a recent acquisition, code-named Sapphire. We’ve been, ah, training her in conjunction with some colleagues from Canada’s Department H. They have quite a bit of experience with subjects such as these, and their input was most helpful.”

Fury didn’t bat an eyelash, but the pit of dread in his stomach opened a bit wider. Department H spent billions of dollars trying to perfect the Weapon X project, usually at the expense of mutants. Some would argue it never was perfected.

He silently looked over the files. It showed an attractive young woman named Samantha Carter. Fury raised an eyebrow at her origin.

Part Amazonian, part Atlantean? No wonder they wanted to get their hands on her. She’s a living weapon.

There were several reports on her “training” and indoctrination, much of which made Fury’s skin crawl. Several photos were included. One of which was obviously taken when she first arrived. She looked confused and frightened, but her strangely feline eyes were bright and sharp. Later, as the program progressed, Fury came at last to a photo of the same young woman, staring at the camera with dull, lifeless eyes. She had been broken, and broken hard. There was no spark of humanity in those eyes.

Fury looked up with a gaze that could rend steel. “Congratulations on yer new toy. What’s this got ta do with me?”

[Nick Fury]

The shadowed figure leaned back in his chair. "SHIELD has much more experience dealing with mutants, psychics, and other paranormal beings than we do. We'd like Agent Sapphire to go along with you on your next mission. We believe her training to be complete, and she should be ready for field trials."

Fury was getting annoyed with all the "paranormal" talk. These jokers had no idea. The latest incarnation of the Howling Commandos were comprised of such people as a werewolf, a vampire, a reincarnated mummy, and other beings deemed to be the stuff of legends. They even had a living, breathing dragon as their dustoff chopper. And now they wanted him to babysit their pet mutant.

Fury's first instict was to tell them all to place their collective lips firmly upon his tight, muscular buttocks as he slammed the door in their faces. He gnawed on the cigar as he re-read Sapphire's file.

Fury was no great champion of mutant rights, but some of the things in that file made Weapon X look like summer camp. That should not happen to anyone. Ever. The wheels were already turning in his head as he looked up and shook his head slowly.

Carefully, old man. Let's toss this lure out and see if anything bites. Play the grumpy mercenary card, that usually works.

"So you're askin' me ta take yer shiny new assassin with me ta work tha bugs outta her. Ya go through all this time an' expense ta program her just tha way ya want her, then decide ya don't know what ta do with her. Jugglers? Yer clowns, all right. What's in this fer me, besides a warm fuzzy feelin'?"

The figure coughed. "We have substantial influence with Congress. We could see to it that your budget..."

Fury held up a hand. "I already got a budget that you couldn't guess in yer most crack-addled dreams." He leaned forward. "I deal in information, gents. There's a great deal I don't know about this august body around the table, an' I'm gonna know it before I go on this little field trip."

Silence for several moments. Then, "Would you excuse us a moment, Colonel?"

Fury leaned back and waved. "Knock yerself out, I ain't goin' nowhere."

The figures huddled around the head of the table, speaking in furtive whispers. They finally returned to their seats, and the figure at the head spoke.

"Very well. What do you want to know?"


**************************

Nick Fury left the strange conference room several hours later. Not a bad deal, all in all. He'd gotten some good information on a military outfit he never knew existed. He'd have to put his own intelligence net to work on these Jugglers, more than likely half of what they told him was crap.

And then there was Sapphire. Samantha Carter. He'd have to ask Sharon if they were related. Again, he wasn't in the business of picking up strays. There were a lot of people in the world that had bad things happen to them, and he couldn't save every one. But, there was something about her. Somehow, he had to save her.

But first, they had a job to do. The price to pay for some potentially valuable information. A necessary evil. For the greater good, right?

Right.

It wasn't the first time Fury had made a decision like that. Probably wouldn't be the last. But it was the first one in a long time that made him vomit as soon as he found a bathroom.

[Nick Fury]

Several weeks later…

**********************************

Date: CLASSIFIED
Location: CLASSIFIED
0300 hours local

The interior of the C-17 Globemaster was lit by dim red lamps. At this altitude, it was a very smooth and quiet ride, but it made for a long fall when you stepped out the door. Fury and the rest of his SHIELD team were preparing to do just that; checking and re-checking each other’s weapons and HALO (High Altitude/Low Opening) gear in preparation for the upcoming jump.

Fury didn’t have to wait long for a mission to test out the Jugglers’ latest agent. A HYDRA base was discovered in the mountains of CLASSIFIED, and a team was immediately assembled to deal with the problem. The political situation in CLASSIFIED was much too unstable to fly in a helicarrier’s worth of troops and equipment, so a small team was tasked to deal with the problem quickly and quietly.

Fury finished adjusting the straps on his parachute rig and checking the pressure in his oxygen bottle. The jumpmaster shouted “Ten minutes!” into Fury’s ear, and he nodded.

“TEN MINUTES! SOUND OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK!”

“Twenty OK!”

“Nineteen OK!”

Fury listened as each member checked in, calling roll and confirming readiness at the same time. The final member to check in did not sound off, only nodding coolly.

She was dressed slightly different than the rest of the team, in a form-fitting black jumpsuit that was much tighter than a standard uniform. A pair of Colt .45 Automags were slung on her hips, and several other nasty implements of pain and death were fastened elsewhere. An odd, circular bladed weapon was also strapped to her belt. Her light brown hair was in a tight no-nonsense braid and her eyes coldly surveyed the interior of the plane as she took one last gulp of pure oxygen from a nearby bottle, readying herself for the jump.

As the troopers took their place near the rear ramp, Fury turned and addressed her quietly.

“You might be hot $#!+ where you come from. But when yer with my crew, ya only need ta do one thing. Whatever I tell ya ta do. If I see ya jeapordizin’ this op, I’ll stick a bullet in yer brainpan myself.”

(tags Sapphire)

[Panthera]

Becoming the puppy to Fury's leash was not exactly what Samantha Carter had in mind. Her extensive training in manipulation and the arms of combat sent her to countless hours of simulations and tests to perfect her feline acuteness to the skills required to become a lethal weapon in anyone's brigade.

She was neither informed of becoming the pawn in anyone's game nor was she given too much, if any, information on this blatant bore of a mission upon an over sized bucket of bolts in the middle of no where.

Still, Samantha was there and sitting amongst the small troop of soldiers that seemed to constantly give her the once over, something she didn't like in the least. Her glare back to the stares of the eyes of the men gave them a good notion that she wasn't there to make them look pretty. Her purpose was far too greater to be put off as some hot chick to be patted on the behind when she did her job.

I'll kill someone if they even think about touching me.

As the crew sounded off in their acknowledgment of the upcoming jump, Sam sat there and simply overlooked her suit and the weapons she had instilled in her holsters and other hiding pockets within her jumpsuit.

She gave a simple cold nod to the eye patched man who looked like a villain from a very bad movie. She had no reaction to his command or comments and she simply kept to herself while the others looked on with anxiety.

Orders are for those who cannot piss without being led by someone to the little boy's room.

[Nick Fury]

Fury glared at her as he strapped on his helmet and oxygen mask. This one was going to be loads of laughs, he could tell already. Yet another golden child fresh from some elite school or other. He’d seen them before, packed full of training in controlled environments, ten feet tall and bulletproof, and they went to gibbering pieces when dropped into combat for the first time. Murphy’s Law of Combat: No plan survives first contact with the enemy.

He signaled to the rest of the group to take their places. Fury had brought his A-game on this op, he needed the best he could get his hands on. His right-hand-man, “Dum-Dum” Dugan. Rock-steady and fearless Gabriel Jones. Calm and reliable Sharon Carter. And the brave to the point of being foolish Clay Quartermain. Each of them would lead a squad of four other elite troopers, each team with their own objectives. Fury and Sapphire formed a smaller pseudo-squad, to coordinate the op and strike targets of opportunity. Fury was not relishing this assignment, but he didn’t care to stick anyone else on his team with this wild card. Not even Quartermain.

The jumpmaster signaled again to Fury, and he spoke into the HALO rig’s mic. “One minute, people. Express elevator, goin’ down.”

Fury braced himself as the jumpmaster opened the rear cargo doors. There was a WHOOSH as the pressurized atmosphere blasted out of the doors. Fury worked his jaw several times to pop his ears as he stepped to the edge of the ramp, gripping the edge of the door. He smiled grimly as Quartermain began humming a familiar tune, and the words of the morbidly humorous paratrooper hymn sprang unbidden to his mind.

(To the tune of the Battle Hymn of the Republic)

Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

"Is everybody happy!" cried the sergeant looking up
Our Hero meekly answered, "Yes" and then they stood him up
He leaped right out into the blast, his static line unhooked
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

He counted loud he counted long he waited for the shock
He felt the wind he felt the cold, he felt that awful drop
The silk from his reserve fell out and wrapped about his legs
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

The risers wrapped around his neck, connectors cracked his dome
Suspension lines were tied in knots around his skinny bones
His canopy became a shroud as he hurtled to the ground
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

The days he lived and loved and laughed kept running through his mind
He thought about the girl back home, the one he'd left behind
He thought about the medics and he wondered what they'd find
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

The ambulance was on the spot and jeeps were running wild
The medics jumped and screamed with glee, rolled up their sleeves and smiled
For it had been a week or so since last a chute had failed
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

He hit the ground the sound of "SPLAT!" The blood went spurting high
His comrades were all heard to say: "What a helluva way to die!"
He lay there rolling ‘round in all the welter of his gore
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

There was blood upon the risers, there were brains upon his chute
Intestines were a-danglin' from his paratrooper's suit
They poured him from his helmet and they poured him from his boots
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
Gory glory, what a helluva way to die!
And he ain't gonna jump no more!!!

The jump light blinked from red to green, and Fury at once stepped off the ramp with 35,000 feet of empty space beneath him.

[Panthera]

No amount of threatening expressions would intimidate Samantha Carter in the least. Her training, or torture, insured that Sam's mind was fully focused on one thing, completing the mission successfully. Fury's cold hard glare into her eyes only implored more determination to show this pirate she was more than he had expected.

Securing her own helmet and mask, Samantha ran her hands over the holsters and pockets checking that everything was in their proper place before she heard the command,

“One minute, people. Express elevator, goin’ down.”

Everyone took their places as the cargo door opened changing the oxygen levels quickly. Calmly, Sam swallowed to release the built up tension in her ears as they popped silently within her head.

One soldier began to hum a tune within the mics, but Sam only blocked it out hearing only the sounds of her heart beat keeping a steady pace. For some reason, she was the last to jump before Fury. This puppet master was going to find out just out dangerous it is to pull on her strings.

Taking a step, she felt the cold air rush into the very small unprotected areas of her skin before she lept into the abyss of clouds before her.

[Nick Fury]

It was freezing cold at this altitude, and as Fury broke through the clouds he could tell by the moonlit snow that it wouldn't be too much warmer on the ground.

Getting close now. Fury kept an eye on the dimly lit altimeter on his wrist. Supposedly his chute would automatically deploy at 800 feet, but he wasn't one to completely trust in something like that.

The mountainous terrain rushed towards him. Fury could make out forests and light coming from a small village in the valley when he was jerked upright by the opening chute. The airfoil-style canopy looked and handled like a large wing, and Fury touched down effortlessly in a small clearing. He immediately crouched and unslung his suppressed MP-5, hurredly gathering up his chute and releasing the jump harness.

Several minutes later, the rest of the team had all touched down. The chutes were gathered and cached under a pile of rocks, along with the oxygen masks, HALO rigs, and jump helmets. Fury consulted a GPS to get his bearings.

While the troopers spread out to cover the perimeter, Fury held a council with his team leaders and Sapphire. Reaching down the front of his pants, he extracted a map. Ignoring the snorts and startled looks, he shone a dim red-lensed flashlight on the map.

"Listen up. We're about three klicks southwest of the target. We'll follow the valley until we get within a klick or so. Keep yer eyes peeled, they'd be stupid not ta have listening posts set up, even this far out. Gabe, that's you. Your guys are on point. Once we're there, I want Clay and Sharon to break their squads off and envelop. Watch out fer sentries, tripwires, motion detectors, tha whole enchilada. Once we're in, you all have yer assignments. Me an' Sapphire'll take tha command center. Once objectives are complete, I want charges set for thirty minutes. Our rally point is here, north of the objective. Questions?"

He said this with a glance at Sapphire. He knew full well his SHIELD troopers had rehearsed this time and again, and could do this in their sleep.

[Panthera]

Flying high amongst the clouds with her chute open, Samantha felt like an eagle soaring through the skies. It was the only freedom she had felt in months, but it didn't deter her from the mission at hand and the fact she was becoming more and more suspicious of Fury's motives.

As she landed gracefully upon the ground, her chute quickly enveloped like a airless balloon behind her as she removed the harness. She placed the equipment with the others as she began to take on the cold atmosphere around her.

Part of her training was to always know where every objective was at all times. Scanning the area, Sam took in every soldiers steps and trots to their locations and kept them in memory if she needed them later. She walked over to where Fury and the others as Nick began to pull something from his pants. Sam raised a brow until she saw a large paper come forth to reveal a map of the compound.

"Listen up. We're about three klicks southwest of the target. We'll follow the valley until we get within a klick or so. Keep yer eyes peeled, they'd be stupid not ta have listening posts set up, even this far out. Gabe, that's you. Your guys are on point. Once we're there, I want Clay and Sharon to break their squads off and envelop. Watch out fer sentries, tripwires, motion detectors, tha whole enchilada. Once we're in, you all have yer assignments. Me an' Sapphire'll take tha command center. Once objectives are complete, I want charges set for thirty minutes. Our rally point is here, north of the objective. Questions?"

Still, she was being kept in the dark about the objective of this mission. Was she to be expendable here? Was this the Juggler's way of extinguishing her, or an attempt to? She was actually tired of being the pawn or pet in this scenario. Her eyes remained cold as she finally offered her voice for the first time.

"Is this about the time, you will tell me what the objective actually is or am I still here to play pirate in your little treasure hunt?"

[Nick Fury]

The other officers all glanced at Fury. There were a select few that got to run their mouth in his presence, but that privelege came after a LONG time, and several combat ops.

Fury checked his initial response. Sapphire was walking a fine line between a valuable but barely tolerated asset and a distracting, expendable one. Too much was riding on this op for any tomfoolery.

Fury ignored her question at first. Glancing at his officers, he growled, "You got yer orders. Assemble yer troops, we move in five."

As the other troopers melted into the shadows, Fury turned an eye to Sapphire.

"Lissen here, punkin. In answer to yer question, we're knockin' over a HYDRA base. You an' me are hittin' tha command center. We ain't equipped ta take prisoners. Not much inclined to if we were. You read me?"

Without waiting for an answer, he continued.

"Play yer cards right, an' I can spring ya from that gig you got with tha Jugglers. Those clowns are bad news. Right now, I don't need any more cogs in tha machine. You just stick to my six, an' I'll cover yours. Once we get ta where we're goin', you can go hog-wild. Till then, keep yer cake hole shut. You ain't here fer yer looks or mastery of tha language. God knows I ain't. We gotta job ta do. You can call me whatever ya want afterward."

Fury stood up from his crouch. "I'm done talkin'. Next thing outta yer mouth better be constructive, or it's a long walk back."

Despite his bluster, she was extremely easy on the eyes.

[Panthera]

If intimidation and fear were the objectives of Fury, he failed miserably. Her cold hard stare never detered, nor changed. A harderened gaze was retracted back to him as he spewed off at the mouth.

"Lissen here, punkin. In answer to yer question, we're knockin' over a HYDRA base. You an' me are hittin' tha command center. We ain't equipped ta take prisoners. Not much inclined to if we were. You read me?"

She had been called worse with the Jugglers and their torture, and a little sweet talk wasn't about to changer her mind about him. She never was told anything about HYDRA or the significance of their people. She was trainied to do one thing, and one thing only.....kill.

"Play yer cards right, an' I can spring ya from that gig you got with tha Jugglers. Those clowns are bad news. Right now, I don't need any more cogs in tha machine. You just stick to my six, an' I'll cover yours. Once we get ta where we're goin', you can go hog-wild. Till then, keep yer cake hole shut. You ain't here fer yer looks or mastery of tha language. God knows I ain't. We gotta job ta do. You can call me whatever ya want afterward."

A small speckle of hope lay deep within her mind about getting away from the cruelty and pain the Jugglers inflicted on her on a daily basis. Those feelings would never come forth or it would only distract her mission. If she was going to possibly escape, this mission needed to be flawless and she needed to bow down to this Jack Sparrow wanna be....for now.

"You just show me the objective, and I guarantee you there won't be anyone around to even think about their next meal or bedtime story."

[Nick Fury]

"Atta girl. Let's get a move on."

Fury headed off into the darkness.

The trek through the thick, snowy forest was mostly uneventful. The troopers encountered several HYDRA listening posts, but they were dealt with quickly and quietly.

When they arrived at their objective, the other elements of Fury's team spread out just as they had trained. Fury took out a pair of starlight binoculars and scanned the area.

It was an imposing structure they faced. Unce upon a time, it had most likely been a castle of sorts, now forgotten and claimed by the forest. But HYDRA had not been idle. The stone walls had been rebuilt and reinforced, while satellite dishes and antennas dotted the rooftops and machine guns manned the battlements.

Fury looked at Sapphire, who crouched next to him. He handed her the binocs while he fished in his pocket for a cigar. He couldn't light it, but it still made him feel better to at least chew on one.

Let's see what yer made of.

"Well, there it is. Whaddya think?"

[Panthera]

The bitterness of the cold nipped at her ears and fingertips as they trailed through the forest with the others. The pain to her extremeties only increased her adrenaline to get this done and finish the job. The faster the job was done, the faster she'd get out of the cold.

The building she looked upon was immensely beautiful in its own right, as the forest seemed to welcome it, showering it with its own vegetation around the walls. The place was huge, but still child's play in her mind.

She was handed the binoculars and looked for an even better view. There were quite a few men guarding and the surveilance equipment was top notch.

"Well, there it is. Whaddya think?"

Still peering through the spectacles, she made a calm reply.

"A walk in the park, a very cold one. One of the men guarding the main entrance is a rookie all tense and bothered. The other one is shivering from the cold. This will be child's play."

[Nick Fury]

Fury took back the binocs for another look, as he grunted at Sapphire's answer. Sure enough, the guards at the gate looked cold, miserable, nervous, and distracted. Just what you'd expect from conscripted troops in the CLASSIFIED military.

But not from fanatical HYDRA operatives. Something didn't smell right. Not even a little.

So far, he hadn't seen anything that would make him abort the mission. Just that creeping, tingling feeling on the back of his neck that had kept him alive on countless military ops, from Normandy to Baghdad.

He shook his head. "No way they'd have green troops on perimeter in a place like this. Not sure just what yet, but there's somethin' rotten in Denmark. If this is a walk in the park, why dontcha stroll on over an' deal with those two jokers? An' keep it quiet. Somethin' here's puttin' out some bad vibes."

He zoomed in on one of the guards patrolling the wall. There was something familiar about the uniform and equipment the guard was wearing. Gone were the days of the green and yellow clown suits, HYDRA had gotten with the times long ago.

Fury scowled as he studied the guard. There must be some kind of distortion with his magnification lens. There was no way a garden-variety foot soldier could be that big.