The bike's engine rumbled beneath us as we cut through the early morning traffic. Natasha sat in front, while I kept watch from behind.
We'd been riding for about twenty minutes now, heading toward the location where Natasha said the hidden Quinjet was stored. An hour's drive, she'd estimated, though given how fast she was weaving through traffic, we might make it in less.
Quite the beast of a bike I bought.
I glanced at the back of her head and noticed something odd. Her hair looked different—the color was slightly off, and the shape of her ears seemed wrong. Then I caught a glimpse of a small device tucked around her ear, barely visible beneath her hair.
"Face changer?" I asked over the wind.
Natasha nodded without turning back. "Holographic projection system. Creates a convincing fake face overlaid on my real one. Good enough to fool most surveillance systems and definitely good enough for any random person who might see us."
"SHIELD tech?" I guessed.
Or it could have been made by Tony.
"Modified SHIELD tech," Natasha corrected. "I made some improvements. The original version tended to glitch if you moved too fast or got wet. Mine works even underwater."
Of course, she'd improved on it. That was very Natasha—take something and making it better because you never knew when you'd need that extra edge.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw Anna's reply to the text I'd sent before leaving the apartment.
The text I'd sent had been brief: "Going dark for a few days. Take everyone to Limbo. Don't ask questions, go. Trust me."
Anna's response was equally short: "Okay. Be safe. We'll wait for you."
No questions, no demands for explanation. Just trust. That was Anna—she understood that sometimes in this world, you had to act first and explain later, especially after we spent such a long time in that facility.
I'd made the call because it was the only logical move.
We were still living in the apartment SHIELD had provided, the same SHIELD that was now compromised. If they wanted to get to me, going after Anna and the others would be the obvious play. They were all vulnerable as long as they stayed in that apartment.
Even though I had left a shadow with each of them, in Limbo, they'd be untouchable.
I pocketed my phone and refocused on our surroundings.
"How much longer?" I asked.
"Twenty minutes, maybe less," Natasha replied, taking a sharp turn that made the bike lean.
"The facility is in an area that used to be an active military training ground back in the eighties. When it was decommissioned, Fury bought it through a shell corporation and converted part of it for storage."
That made sense. Hide your secret base in a place that used to be a legitimate military installation. Anyone doing aerial surveillance would just see an old, abandoned facility and move on.
We rode in silence for the next fifteen minutes, the urban landscape giving way to open fields and scattered warehouses. Eventually, Natasha slowed down and turned onto a dirt road that looked like it hadn't been maintained in decades.
The road led to what appeared to be an old military training ground, exactly as Natasha had described. Crumbling concrete structures dotted the area, their walls covered in graffiti and their windows long since shattered. Rusted chain-link fences sagged under their own weight, and weeds had overtaken most of the open spaces.
Natasha brought the bike to a stop near what looked like it had once been an administration building. She killed the engine, and suddenly the only sound was the wind rustling through the overgrown grass.
I climbed off the bike and looked around, extending my senses to scan the area.
Nothing.
No life signs, no energy signatures, no hidden guards or automated defenses. Just emptiness and decay.
"You sure this is the right place?" I asked, frowning. "I can't sense anything here--"
Then I stopped mid-sentence as realization hit me.
"Wait," I said slowly. "I see. Underground, right?"
Natasha smiled as she removed her helmet, the holographic disguise still firmly in place over her real features. "Most secret bases are built underground. Harder to detect, easier to defend, and they don't show up on satellite imagery. Though this one is just a black site storage facility, as I told you. Nothing fancy."
She started walking toward what looked like a particularly overgrown section of the field, her boots crunching on dead grass and broken concrete. I followed, watching as she pulled out a small device from her pocket—it looked like a modified phone.
"Wait here," she said, tapping something on the screen. "I'll take out the Quinjet. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes."
I nodded. "I'll keep watch."
Natasha gave me a look that suggested she didn't think there was much to watch for, but she didn't argue. She tapped a final command on her device and then stepped back.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then I felt it—a vibration in the ground beneath my feet, subtle at first but growing stronger. The overgrown field in front of us began to shift, grass and dirt sliding aside as a seam appeared running down the middle.
The ground was opening.
I watched as massive hydraulic lifts engaged somewhere below, splitting the field apart like a pair of enormous doors. The opening was perfectly camouflaged—from above, it would have looked like nothing more than a natural variation in the terrain. But now that it was active, I could see the sophisticated engineering that had gone into creating this entrance.
A platform began to rise from the depths, and sitting on it, pristine and ready for flight, was a Quinjet.
The aircraft was smaller than I'd expected, built for speed and stealth rather than cargo capacity. Its dark hull seemed to absorb light, and I could see the subtle curves and angles designed to minimize radar detection.
Natasha walked over to it. The rear hatch opened with a smooth mechanical hiss, and she turned back to me with a mischievous grin.
"Welcome to Natasha Airlines," she said, her tone playful despite everything we were dealing with. "Would you like some coffee?"
I couldn't help but smile slightly as I approached the Quinjet. I was used to her theatrics by now.
Instead of responding to her quip, I asked a question. "How long will it take to reach our destination?"
Natasha was already climbing into the pilot's seat, her fingers dancing across the control panel with practiced efficiency. "It's thirty-two hundred kilometers away. In this bird? About an hour, maybe a bit less depending on headwinds."
An hour to Hawaii. The Quinjet was fast.
I climbed into the co-pilot's seat and strapped in as Natasha went through her pre-flight checks. The hatch sealed behind us with a solid thunk, and the interior lights came on, bathing the cockpit in a soft blue glow.
"Comfortable?" Natasha asked as the engines hummed to life.
"Define comfortable," I replied, settling into the seat.
She laughed and pulled back on the controls.
The Quinjet lifted smoothly from the platform, rising into the air with barely a vibration. As soon as we cleared the opening, I heard the hydraulic lifts engage again, and through the rear cameras, I could see the field closing behind us, sealing away any evidence that we'd been there.
Within seconds, we were airborne and accelerating. Natasha banked the Quinjet toward the west, and I watched as the abandoned military facility disappeared behind us.
As we settled into our flight path, I found my mind wandering to the situation we were flying into.
Why?
That was the question that kept nagging at me. Why would this telepath go through all the trouble of taking over the Avengers and SHIELD, only to do nothing with that power?
They had dozens of powerful individuals under their control. They had access to some of the most advanced technology on Earth. They could have launched an attack on any target they wanted, could have seized control of governments, could have done anything.
But according to Natasha, they'd just... taken control and then maintained the status quo. Made everyone act normal. That didn't make sense for someone who'd gone to such lengths to acquire that power.
Unless maintaining normalcy was the point. Unless they were planning something that required the world not to realize what had happened. Something that needed time to develop without interference.
What could require that level of setup?
I didn't have an answer, and that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
"You're thinking too hard," Natasha's voice cut through my thoughts. "I can practically hear the gears turning."
"Just trying to figure out what their endgame is," I replied. "It doesn't make sense to go through all this just to maintain the status quo."
"It doesn't have to make sense to us," Natasha pointed out. "We're not megalomaniacal telepaths. Who knows what logic they're operating on?"
She had a point, but it didn't make me feel any better.
"Regardless of whatever that person is planning," I said after a moment, "I'll stop them. Our manufacturing factory is in New York, after all. Can't let it get destroyed."
Natasha glanced at me with a slightly amused expression. "So it's not about saving the world or rescuing the Avengers—it's about protecting your business interests?"
"Saving the world and protecting my interests happen to align in this case. Win-win."
I replied with a shrug.
She shook her head, but I could see the small smile on her lips.
....
What Lucien didn't know—what he couldn't know—was that all of this chaos, all of this elaborate manipulation of Earth's mightiest heroes, was happening because of him.
His shadows had raided a research facility when he ordered them to clean the city. A facility that belonged to a being who played chess with nations, who moved pieces across the board with casual disregard for the lives he disrupted.
This being had used Sinister as a pawn in one of his games, setting up elaborate schemes and contingencies, only to abandon the mad scientist when he'd outlived his usefulness.
And now this masked telepath, the one who had taken control of the Avengers and SHIELD, was nothing more than another piece on that same being's board. Another tool being used in a game that Lucien had unwittingly entered when his shadows had struck that facility.
The wheels were in motion. The consequences were beginning to manifest. And Lucien was walking deeper into a web of manipulation that he didn't even know existed.
But for now, he sat in the Quinjet, unaware of the larger forces at play, focused only on the immediate problem before him.
The flight continued smoothly.
.....
"How's the fuel looking?" I asked at one point, completely bored.
"Full tank," Natasha replied. "This Quinjet was maintained as an emergency asset, which means it was kept fueled and ready to go at all times. We've got more than enough to reach Hawaii and then some."
That was good. Typical Fury—always prepared for the worst-case scenario. The guy wanted to use the mutants, too. Sadly, I took them away from his grasp.
Time passed. We flew over landscapes that gradually shifted from urban sprawl to rural farmland to open ocean. The sun climbed higher in the sky, and the blue of the water below us seemed to stretch on forever.
I found myself dozing off at one point, the steady hum of the engines and the comfortable seat combining to make me drowsy despite the urgency of our situation. When I jerked awake, Natasha was looking at me with an amused expression.
"Nice nap?" she asked.
"How long was I out?"
"Twenty minutes, maybe. Don't worry, I didn't let you drool on the controls."
I gave her a flat look, and she grinned.
"We're about fifteen minutes out," she said, bringing up a tactical display on the main screen. "Starting our descent now."
I leaned forward to look at the display. It showed the Hawaiian islands spread out below us, with a specific marker indicating our destination. The coordinates pointed to what looked like a residential area on one of the smaller islands.
"That's where we're headed?" I asked.
"That's the location JARVIS gave us," Natasha confirmed. "Looks like a pretty normal neighborhood. Nothing obviously suspicious."
Which probably meant it was very suspicious. In my experience, the most dangerous places always looked the most normal from the outside. At least with respect to the places I found my dungeons in.
The Quinjet descended smoothly, and Natasha expertly navigated us toward a small, private airfield outside the main tourist areas. We touched down with barely a bump, and she powered down the engines.
"From here, we take a car," she explained, already unbuckling her harness. "The villa is about thirty minutes away by car. I've got a vehicle stashed here—another one of Fury's contingencies."
Of course, there was a car. Fury probably had backup plans for his backup plans, all the way down.
We exited the Quinjet, and Natasha led me to a nearby hangar that looked like it hadn't been used in years. Inside, covered with a tarp, was a nondescript sedan. Nothing fancy, nothing that would draw attention—exactly what you'd want for covert operations.
Natasha pulled off the tarp, checked the vehicle quickly for any signs of tampering, and then got in the driver's seat. I took the passenger side, and we were off.
The drive took us through some beautiful scenery—tropical plants, ocean views, mountains in the distance. Under different circumstances, it might have been relaxing. As it was, I was too focused on what we were heading toward to appreciate it.
"So," I said after we'd been driving for about twenty minutes, "are you going to tell me what these packages are now?"
Natasha's expression remained neutral, but I caught the slight hesitation before she answered. "It's better if you see them."
That was not reassuring.
"Natasha—"
"I'm serious," she interrupted. "Explaining won't do them justice. You need to see for yourself."
I didn't push further. If she wanted to be mysterious about it, fine. We'd be there soon enough anyway.
The neighborhood we entered was indeed normal-looking. Nice houses, well-maintained lawns, the kind of place where families lived quiet, peaceful lives. Nothing about it screamed "secret SHIELD asset location."
Natasha pulled up to a small villa that looked like every other house on the street. White walls, red tile roof, a small lawn with some tropical plants. It could have been a vacation rental or a retirement home.
She parked the car and got out, and I followed. We walked up the pathway through the lawn area, our footsteps quiet on the stone path. When we reached the main door, Natasha pulled out her device again and entered a code on what looked like a normal doorbell but was clearly something more sophisticated.
The door's locking mechanism clicked, and the main gate swung open.
We stepped into the lawn area, walking toward the front entrance of the villa itself. The property was larger than it had looked from the street, with a well-maintained garden and what looked like a small pool in the back.
As we approached the main door, I finally asked again, my patience running thin. "Now will you tell me what those packages are?"
Natasha reached out and rang the doorbell, the sound echoing inside the villa. Then she turned to me with an expression that was equal parts serious and amused.
"It's better if you see them," she repeated.
Before I could respond, I heard footsteps from inside. Someone was coming to the door.
The lock clicked, and the door began to open.
The door swung fully open.
A figure stood in the doorway, backlit by the interior lights of the villa. Then they stepped forward slightly, and the light hit their face.
My eyes widened in surprise.
"Bob?"
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