Sure enough, the Level Seven agent with the codename "The Cavalry" officially joined Coulson's team.
Five members.
All that remained now was to gather them together—and begin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phil Coulson finally convinced Melinda May to join the team.
"May," he said calmly, gesturing to the man beside him, "let me introduce you. James Gibson. A Level Seven agent. He'll be assisting me during the team's initial phase. Once the unit stabilizes, he'll step away."
James stepped forward and extended his hand.
"Good to see you again," he said evenly. "It's rare for me to meet someone at headquarters I don't already know—unless they're new."
That wasn't arrogance. James had already identified nearly every active operative within the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.
"Yes, we've met," Melinda May replied. Her hand met his in a firm shake, her expression unchanged, cool and unreadable. "I didn't expect Nocturne to be part of this group."
Coulson nodded. "Now, Agent May, I need you to report tomorrow morning. We're moving out."
With that, Coulson and James left headquarters and returned directly to the secure airfield.
THE BUS — COULSON'S OFFICE
Once aboard the aircraft, Coulson led James into his office and handed him two sealed folders.
"These are the last two candidates. Take a look. Any thoughts?"
James opened them and skimmed quickly.
"Both are new," he said. "Sure their technicians and we need them, but they still need more training before they go in the field. If this team is operating independently, everyone needs to be useful. Danger won't care if they're harmless."
Coulson studied him. "Care to help train them?"
James leaned back slightly. "With firearms, yes. But Hand-to-hand combat? Not ideal. My fighting background isn't… replicable. If anything, May should handle that. Honestly, if she's willing, I'd prefer to learn from her myself."
What James had learned through the Fraternity was lethal—but inefficient. All about survival training and not discipline. As for the Gun Kata? It requires superhuman levels of skill.
Coulson gave a small nod. "I'll talk to her. We'll stay on the ground tonight. Wanna grab a bite?"
"Just the two of us?" James shrugged. "Let's go to the taco truck nearby."
"You don't want to try the plane's kitchen?"
"Not interested."
EARLY MORNING — HANGAR
The hangar came alive before sunrise.
Crew members moved to complete their task, final checks were underway. Coulson approached James with a thin data file.
James had been awake for hours, striking a suspended sandbag with controlled force. His body was changing, adapting to new strength. The Space Stone's energy, regulated carefully by Cortana, was being absorbed gradually.
[Absorption rate stable. Output scaling within acceptable margins.]
Five times a normal human's strength was not the ceiling, with unlimited energy and time to adapt, the scale could be limitless.
Bang. Bang.
Each punch sent shockwaves through the sandbag, with controlled force, it barely sways and just shakes aggressively. Anyone near and imagines themselves as the sandbag would feel a phantom tremor seemingly destroying them from the inside out.
"This is our first lead," Coulson said. "Review it when you're finished. The others are arriving."
James nodded. "I'll go ahead and clean up."
INCIDENT REPORT
Later, seated in the lounge, James read through the file.
An explosion. A civilian rushed in, rescued victims, then leapt several stories high and vanished.
James exhaled in anticipation.
'So it's starting.'
He recognized the pattern immediately. This was the incident that would eventually justify the creation of a dedicated mobile response unit—though officially, none of this could be acknowledged.
Hydra couldn't be named. His own abilities couldn't be cited. Evidence didn't work that way.
"The team might actually matter," James muttered. "If needed, I can always pull them back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters."
His thoughts drifted.
'Project Insight… though not completed yet. The three Helicarriers are still on the horizon.'
MAY ARRIVES
"Good Morning."
James looked up as Melinda May entered with her luggage.
"Didn't expect you this early," he said. "Want some breakfast?"
"I've eaten. I want to verify our flight readiness."
She stowed her bag and went straight to the cockpit. James followed, watching her methodical checks.
"I've heard a lot about you," he said quietly. "I hope we can work well together. And—if you're willing—I'd like to learn from you. One on one."
May glanced at him, measuring. "You're an Avenger-level asset. Why learn from me?"
James smiled faintly. "Because my style is unorthodox, it's not a true CQC art, against a true close combat master, well… I think you understand what that means."
She studied him for a long moment.
"Fine," she said. "I expect you to learn fast and not waste my time."
That was all. No flourish. Just acceptance.
LOWER DECK — TECH CREW
James moved to the lower level. The aircraft's interior was split cleanly:
The Lower deck: a garage and a lab
The Mid deck: for living quarters and a briefing room
The Upper deck: Coulson's command room
Two people were hauling equipment.
"Need help?" James asked.
The man nearly dropped his crate. "Wait—are you… Nocturne?"
James blinked. "…Yes. Agent James Gibson. You can call me James—or Nocturne."
Leo Fitz rushed forward, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "They talk about you in training. Your Helicarrier logic program is legendary. One year in S.H.I.E.L.D. and already Level Seven—"
Gemma Simmons joined them, curious. "I thought you were with the Avengers?"
James waved it off. "I am, but right now, we have a mission. Let's finish packing."
He helped them move the equipment, and with his inhuman strength, things were finished far quicker.
BRIEFING ROOM
Coulson brought the displays online.
"A hacker group calling itself Tide Rising has been leaking material related to the Avengers. They claim to know 'THE TRUTH.'"
Several eyes flicked toward James.
He shrugged. "Bunch of attention-seekers."
"Our real interest," Coulson continued, "is a man recently linked to multiple anomalies. Likely people with enhanced abilities. We need to find him."
The screen shifted.
"We've identified a Tide Rising member distributing information about him. She's our lead."
Coulson looked to May. "Prepare for takeoff."
The mission had begun.
The plane lifted smoothly into the sky.
James had once described it as a flying bus, and the name stuck. Seated in the living area, he poured himself a drink and casually shared stories about the Avengers—nothing classified, just anecdotes. Fitz and Simmons listened with open fascination.
The aircraft moved fast.
By the time their conversation drifted to theories and speculations, they had already crossed most of the United States. The landing gear touched down at a secure military airfield in California.
"James," Phil Coulson said, rising from his seat. "You're coming with me. We're picking someone up."
CALIFORNIA — ALLEYWAY
They drove into the city, heading straight for a location already flagged in S.H.I.E.L.D. databases—deliberately flagged.
S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters hadn't deployed Athena for this operation. Only basic Helicarrier-level systems were active. James understood the logic. Even the best smart system wasn't used universally unless it was developed internally—and trusted completely.
A van sat parked in a narrow alley.
As they approached, a woman's voice echoed from inside, animated and confident, speaking rapidly to an unseen audience.
Phil Coulson slid the van door open.
The woman froze—then laughed awkwardly, realizing the irony of her last words.
"You'll never find us."
James didn't respond. He pulled a black balaclava from his pocket, slipped it over her head in one smooth motion, lifted her upright, and took her toward their car.
It's crude kidnapping, but effective.
James disliked it—but results mattered more than distaste.
The drive back was silent. No matter what the woman said, neither man answered.
THE BUS — INTERROGATION ROOM
The walls of the interrogation area were reinforced, layered with containment tech designed for enhanced individuals. Holding a civilian was trivial.
James removed the hood and took the woman into the chair.
She straightened immediately.
"You made a mistake," she said.
James smiled faintly.
He recognized her already—not as what she would become, but as what she was now: a bold hacker, reckless enough to poke at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s perimeter without understanding what lived behind it.
He didn't reach into her mind. Not yet.
"What's your name?" James asked.
She hesitated. "Skye."
"Quite a good name, reminds me of that old company that connected people globally through live video," he said calmly. "Why did you join Tide Rising?"
His tone wasn't aggressive. It sounded almost conversational.
"If you really want the truth," Skye shot back, "your S.H.I.E.L.D. hides a lot. From New Mexico, to Harlem. And you'll hide the Centipede Project too."
James tilted his head. "And what does any of that have to do with you?"
Skye hesitated.
"Aliens, Monsters. They're real and people know it" she said finally. "Don't people have the right to know?"
"And then?" James pressed gently.
She opened her mouth… and stopped.
James shook his head. "You're talented. All of you are. Good programmers and good hackers. Why not take real jobs? No degree required—just skill. High-paying, legal work."
He leaned forward, increasing the gravity of the situation.
"Instead, you chase after the 'truth' without considering consequences."
"We have a right to know," Skye insisted.
James exhaled softly. "Your 'right to know' spreads dangerous information. Some people want that. Others don't. Most people just want to survive their day without thinking about alien invasions, interstellar wars, or monsters under the bed."
He continued evenly.
"The Battle of New York happened. Some people love the Avengers. Some hate them. But they exist. You can't erase them."
Skye frowned, thinking.
"You dig into their lives," James went on. "But did you ever consider their right to privacy? Tony Stark is Iron Man. What exactly do you plan to do with that knowledge?"
"What about the big green guy?" Skye asked.
James' expression cooled slightly. "That's not your decision. If he wants the world to know, he'll say it himself."
A beat of tension.
"I'm part of that world," he added.
Skye looked at him again—really looked this time.
"You're James Gibson," she said slowly. "The developer of Samira."
James nodded. "Correct. I chose this job. My Codename is Nocturne. You saw me in the Battle of New York."
Her eyes widened. "You're the black—"
"Umbra Sentinel," James corrected calmly. "There is only one Iron Man. Tony Stark."
He folded his arms.
"You dig into my privacy. So tell me—do I have the right to sue you?"
Skye fell silent.
"You claim the right to know," James continued. "I claim the right to privacy. How do you resolve that conflict?"
"I don't know," she admitted.
"You didn't think about the consequences," James said. "You hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D. You broke multiple federal laws."
Skye swallowed. "So what do you want?"
James stood without answering and walked out.
Phil Coulson spoke from the side. "If you know his name, then you know he's very familiar with computers."
Moments later, James returned—with Skye's laptop.
It was already unlocked.
He set it on the table, turning the screen toward her. Her own recorded footage played back, clean and intact.
"GPS encryption," James said quietly. "Clever trick, but not enough."
He met her gaze.
"Now, it would be best to start talking."