Chapter 14 – The Unwelcome Truth
The street was still and heavy with the stench of blood and gunpowder. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, but none had reached the block yet. The broken bodies of men in suits lay scattered across the ground. Their black SUVs sat twisted, some burning quietly, others dented and torn like tin cans.
Gaius stood at the center of it all, broad and calm, as if the chaos around him was only a ripple in his path. His coat was torn to shreds, his massive frame and thick undersuit visible beneath. His arms glistened with blood, most of it not his own. He said nothing. He only waited.
The deep hum of another engine rolled through the street. Another black SUV pulled in from the far end, slowing carefully as it approached the scene. Unlike the others, its movements were calm, measured. The vehicle stopped, and four figures stepped out.
Leading them was a man in a dark suit, calm eyes behind a thin smile that didn't reach his face. His hair was neatly combed, his stance neither rushed nor afraid. Phil Coulson.
Behind him, three agents fanned out, two with rifles slung low, not aimed, and a woman with a tablet clutched against her chest. Their expressions betrayed unease. They had never seen a scene like this.
Coulson's eyes moved across the carnage. The corpses. The crushed cars. The splintered pavement. His jaw tensed, but he hid it well. He gave a short breath through his nose and then stepped forward.
"...That's a lot of bodies," Coulson said quietly, his voice steady. He stopped about ten paces from Gaius, raising his hands slightly, palms open. "I'm going to ask this carefully, what happened here?"
Gaius turned his head toward him. His eyes were clear, steady, but carried a weight that made Coulson's chest tighten. For a long moment, the giant said nothing. Then, slowly, he raised his arms.
The sound of tearing cloth echoed in the silence as he stripped away what was left of his coat and shirt, tossing the shredded fabric to the ground. His massive torso loomed in the streetlight, clad only in the black armored undersuit that clung to him like a second skin.
As Coulson and his agents watched, a strange sound followed, small metallic clicks, sharp like pebbles falling. Bullets, dozens of them, began dropping from his arms and chest. They clattered against the asphalt, rolling across the street.
The two agents behind Coulson stiffened, rifles tightening in their hands.
Gaius flexed his forearms. The wounds where bullets had torn into him were already clotting, closing the wound weakening the bleeding, then stopping altogether. The skin was knitting back together by the blood turning into clots, leaving only blood clots marks.
"Sir," one of Coulson's men whispered sharply, crouching near a body. He lifted part of a torn jacket from one of the dead agents. His voice shook as he held it up. "Look at this. It's one of ours."
On the shredded fabric, clear as day, was the patch. A circle with the eagle crest.
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.
Coulson's calm mask cracked. His eyes widened as he stared at the insignia, then flicked back to Gaius, who was watching him with the stillness of a predator measuring a man's honesty.
"...That's not possible," Coulson muttered under his breath. "These, these were supposed to be our men."
The agent who had found the patch turned pale. "Sir, why would our organization be trying to kill him? That's-"
Coulson cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. His voice stayed low but firm. "Quiet."
He thought fast, his mind racing. Fury had ordered surveillance on Gaius, yes, but not a direct strike. And certainly not without his knowledge. These weren't his people. If they carried S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms and gear, then there was only one answer.
A traitor.
Or worse, someone inside had turned part of their organization.
Coulson swallowed and forced himself to breathe evenly. He stepped forward another slow pace, lifting his chin toward the towering warrior.
"I'm very sorry," he said carefully. His tone was calm, respectful, but edged with something heavier. "These men... they wore our colors. But I didn't authorize this. No one in my command gave this order. That means someone inside is moving without our knowledge."
Gaius stared down at him, his silence deep and unbroken. The air between them felt thick, heavy. Coulson almost stumbled under the weight of it, but he forced himself to straighten, keeping his voice steady.
"You have my word, we didn't send them," Coulson continued. "There are traitors in my organization. I'll find them. But right now, you're hurt. We can get you medical care. A safe place."
Gaius tilted his head slightly, as though considering him. His voice finally rumbled out, low and steady.
"I need no rest."
The calm certainty in his tone sent a shiver down the younger agent's spine.
Before Coulson could respond, a roar of engines cut through the night above them. A metallic figure streaked down from the sky, thrusters burning bright. The armored form landed hard enough to crack the pavement, folding its legs before standing tall.
Iron Man.
The helmet peeled back with a hiss, revealing Tony Stark's face. His eyes darted across the bloody street, lingering on the corpses, then moving to Gaius. His mouth tightened into a grim line.
"Jesus…" Tony muttered. His voice was quiet, but the shock in it carried. He walked closer, armor whirring softly. "What happened, Gaius?"
The giant turned slightly toward him. His face was unreadable, calm as ever, though his hands still glistened faintly red.
"They came for me," Gaius said simply. "Ten of them. They tried to capture me. Or kill me. I do not know which."
Tony's jaw clenched. He looked at Coulson, suspicion hard in his eyes. "These yours?"
Coulson's hands tightened at his sides, but he forced himself to stay calm. "They wore our Uniforms, yes. But I didn't send them. Stark, listen, I was ordered to watch him, not attack. This wasn't me. It wasn't Fury either."
Tony's gaze narrowed. "So what, your house is dirty?"
Coulson didn't answer right away. The thought had already hit him, sharp and heavy. Traitors inside their organization. It explained everything. But saying it out loud meant admitting something worse, this wasn't just about one team. If his can be distracted away so they can attack Gaius, then the rot ran deeper than anyone wanted to believe.
Coulson glanced once more at the giant, at the calm way he stood among the dead. Then back to Tony.
"We need to talk," he said finally. His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of urgency. "Not here. Not in the open."
If you're enjoying the story, want to read more, and want to support me in creating more, you can check out my Patreon here:
patreon.com/ZanderLee
Every bit of support means a lot and helps me keep writing!