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Gacha God: Unforeseen Developments (ch. 10)
🕑 Added 2023-01-21 15:41:59 +0000 UTC"We lost him," Clint informed Natasha as she stalked the room that was the focal point for all of Audacity's henchmen and the last known location of the man himself. "We aren't the only ones trained in the disappearing act -- seems like Audacity blended in with his men, and the moment we lost eyes on them, they disappeared."
Natasha came to a stop in front of a hole that led down into the sewers. A wide-open network of tunnels that had next to no cameras, that also protected Audacity from satellite tracking. Smart. Especially considering that not even New York had a complete map of its sewer tunnels, cisterns, and water treatment plants. The destruction from what was being referred to as 'The Incident' by the world would complicate finding them further.
"He tipped his hand," Natasha stated. When Shield had tracked a number of Audacity's men to the building, the very first thing that they did was send in a wide net of agents to box them in when they tried to make their escape. But, all the same, Audacity had slipped the net entirely. Him and his men. Meaning that all of them were highly trained, or the agents made a mistake, or, in the most unfortunate but also most likely case, Audacity had a secret tunnel that he used to escape. "The raid on the Russians was personal and executed with extensive planning."
There had been men waiting outside, or even within, each of the target locations. The attacks had been fast -- the entire ordeal lasted thirty minutes in total. Thirty minutes to root out a well-entrenched Mafia. That told Natasha that the raid had been extensively planned. How long it took was a matter of resources, but it was possible that that's why there was a two-week lull between sightings.
"I'd say," Clint remarked from somewhere in the city. They were taking point on the investigation of the Tesseract and Audacity. Stark was currently distracted with his own issues while the rest of the Avengers were off doing their own thing. Banner was in the wind again, as promised. She dropped him off in Malaysia herself. Rogers was still acclimatizing to the current century, but he was spending a lot of time with old veterans of the last world war. She was pushing him to go on tour with the documentary crew from the History Channel -- it'd be a good way to confront that the war was over.
Thor? Thor hadn't left Portland since reuniting with Jane Foster. Specifically, he hadn't left her bedroom.
"He certainly made them feel it," Clint continued. "We have twelve bodies in total, but the rest of them aren't going to walk again. Three are paralyzed from the neck down and we have one that's on life support. But, all those were the ones who fought. Guys shooting at him, and he fought back. The only two that feel like murder are Vladimir and Anatoly -- the leaders of the mob. Vladimir was executed, point blank. Anatoly was murdered with a bullet to the back of the head while he was unconscious."
"We have a starting point and it's good for our psych profile," Natasha remarked before she stepped away from the hole to leave the dilapidated building in Hell's Kitchen. "He stole money, guns, and drugs. It's possible he's looking to fill the hole in the market that he created."
"From stopping an alien invasion to crime lord? Seems a bit of a stretch to me," Clint replied. "Feels more like independent contractor work to me if we are right about him having a backer. It would explain how he was exfiltrated from the building. Or, it could be altruistic -- he's getting the drugs and guns off the streets."
"And the money?" Natasha asked as she looked outside -- Shield already quartered off the building. However, she saw a number of forces on the other side of the yellow tape that wanted in. Homeland Security, the FBI, and CIA. Shield was an international agency, and while it was largely funded by America with a lot of its roots found in the country, Shield wasn't an American agency. It only answered to the World Council. Meaning that it wasn't American enough, and the other agencies were chafing at getting boxed out.
"Everyone loves money," Clint said and she could hear the shrug in his tone. It was good to hear. The banter between them was familiar and welcomed. Both of them had undergone some major changes since the Incident. Clint hadn't said it, but Natasha knew he suffered from what he did under Loki's mind control. The agents that fell. He rebuffed any attempts to give him rest because of it.
Natasha knew him. He needed some time to get his head on straight. Time to think. Having him be on overwatch for her was the lightest-duty he could have while letting him feel like he was being useful. In another week, maybe less, he would wisen up and head home to his wife and their child.
"Everyone has a reason to do anything," Natasha agreed. Right now, they were sitting in the dark when it came to Audacity. Who he was, what motivated him, and what his goals were. Was he trying to do good for goodness sake? Was he trying to do good but wanted to take a slice on the side? Was he an independent contractor hired to do a job? Was he an ambitious man using the goodwill he earned by ending the Incident before it could truly begin to give him the wiggle room needed to become a crime lord? They didn't have the answers, but with each piece of the puzzle, the answers became a little clearer. With enough of them, Natasha would know not only what motivated Audacity… but enough about him to predict his next move as well.
To that end, she approached the yellow tape and strolled up to an NYPD officer that was not so subtly trying to see what was going on. Shield had a name for him -- Brett Mahoney. A beat cop in Hell's Kitchen that did exactly what Natasha wanted to do -- he predicted where Audacity would be, letting him and his partner arrive in time to see Audacity leave. He had talent, even if that talent did end with Audacity getting away because of confusion between Shield and the police. "Officer Mahoney? I'm Natalie Reshkavich," Natasha introduced herself.
The Photostatic Veil projected the face of a perfectly average-looking woman. Neither too pretty nor too ugly. A recent change, and not one that was particularly welcome. "I would like to ask you a few questions about last night -- about your run-in with Audacity."
Brett seemed momentarily put out as if he was shocked that Shield knew who he was. "I… already gave my debriefing on it, but… sure," he decided with a small shrug. "I'm not sure you can call it a run-in. Not really. More like me running after him after he hightailed it out of there."
Natasha gave him a well-practiced patient smile. The Photostatic Veil was a work in development, she reminded herself when Brett gave her a strained one in response. Controlling the micro expressions in your face sold an expression. The veil wasn't quite there yet, and while it wasn't quite in the realm of the uncanny valley, it did make every expression seem forced and unnatural. Not ideal for spy work. "Anything you can give me would be fine. Do any details stand out to you now that you've had some time to think about it?"
Memory was subjective and unreliable. Ask a hundred people how something happened, and you'd get a hundred different answers. Ask them again five minutes later, you'd get a hundred and ten.
Brett seemed pensive. His body language told her that something did stand out but he wasn't sure if he should share it with the class. Eventually, he decided on it, knowing that even his bad guesses were still worth something. “I don't know. I didn't get a look at him, or his face, but he sounded young. Punk kid kind of young." Brett offered, hinting that he thought that Audacity was underage. Nothing concrete, but it could mean that they needed to look at lowering their age bracket. And that had implications.
If he was in his early twenties? They could look to the military, or point to the fact that he had years of training. When someone eighteen and below had years of training to pull off this kind of operation? That was a telling sign of something else at play.
Natasha herself was a good example of that.
She spent a few minutes, getting what she could from Brett. In doing so, he revealed that he was wasted as a beat cop. Fairly observant, paired well with a sharp mind. Perfect for a budding detective, or an agent of Shield. Though, she held off on making any recruitment pitches. That wasn’t her department. For the most part, Brett told her what she already knew -- that Audacity had hit the Russians hard, making off with guns and money, and that Audacity struck him as ‘playful.’
An odd word to use to describe a man that killed over a dozen men and put another fifty in critical condition.
Still, it was more information. In the right hands and with the right mind, even bad information could serve a purpose.
It was in the middle of the interrogation that Natasha got an alert. A quick glance at her phone told her it was from Nick, telling her that he had something for her and to come to him. Thanking Brett for his time, Natasha strode over to her car. Traffic in New York was always terrible, and the Incident only made it worse, but the explosion-proof windows made up for the inconvenience. Getting in, she started it up, and unbidden, Natasha’s eyes slid over to a billboard on top of a building.
It was all of the Avengers saving New York. Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor took center stage, naturally. But Natasha’s eyes were drawn to a picture of her own face plaster on a billboard of all things while she took the Veil off and tossed it into the passenger seat. She had made a reputation for herself before she joined up with Shield at Clint's behest and extreme efforts to put her on a better path. A fact that wasn’t known by the rest of the world until now.
Some girls collected shoes, but Natasha collected identities -- she had thousands across the globe. Most were civilian-based for an easy to and from trip, but more than a few had connections and importance. Nearly all of which were involved with a Shield mission in some way. Having her face plastered over the world was a disaster in Natasha’s eyes. A huge number of her identities were compromised because of her face being known, and the devastation was so wide-sweeping that it was easier for Shield to swoop in with another agent to pick up where Natasha left off.
“I can hear your annoyance,” Clint remarked as Natasha put the car in autopilot so she could focus on her work. She grabbed a tablet to pull up the case file to add what she learned.
“Audacity wasn’t spotted by a single camera. Nor were any of his goons,” Natasha ignored Clint, very pointedly. There were few things that Natasha took genuine pride in and her skills and capabilities as a spy were one of them. Her face being out in the world hampered her capacity to act. It may be worth looking into a face change. She knew a guy. “We only got him on satellite imaging and the calculations are done running.”
Clint was looking at his own tablet, wherever he was. “The lot of them seem to be within five foot ten to six feet. Considering the margin of error… that stands out,” Clint agreed. The average height was the average. There were people that were shorter and taller, and the average was right down the middle. Meaning that a collection of a good two dozen men all within a few inch variance happening to join Audacity? “Seems intentional. He knew we would be looking for him so he grabbed guys that matched him to blend in.”
“Which means that he could be recruiting off the streets,” Natasha agreed. The clothing was baggy enough to hide his build, but she had a theory in the back of her mind that she wanted a clearer picture before making a verdict on. “I’ll send word to our agents,” she decided, sending out the message to the handlers in New York. They could make a broad list of everyone in New York that was that height then start narrowing it down with stipulations -- military training, priors, unconfirmed locations during the time of the operation, and so on.
“Until we get any hits or Audacity makes a reappearance, we should focus on our John and Jane Doe,” Natasha decided, finding herself in the calm of an investigation with Audacity. They were still sniffing out leads -- drawing up lists on who had the means and the desire to steal the Tesseract and Scepter, looking for him on the ground, while drawing up a psych profile for his next likely hits. They wouldn’t make more progress staring at the papers.
“You’re going to get a kick out of this,” Clint spoke up, genuine amusement in his tone that caught her attention. She could hear the smile in it while a file was sent to her. “My guy who gives me my arrows was gushing about Instagram and how it's going to take over texting and stuff. Then he started rambling about filters. So I got to thinking.”
“That must have been difficult for you,” Natasha shot off, smirking as she leaned into the driver's seat, looking through the file itself.
“It was. I’m glad you noticed my sacrifice -- but, point is, there are the age filter things. So, I had him run the Jane Doe through it a couple of thousand times to see what she would look like a year ago, five, and ten. We got a lot of hits, but I think some are more promising than others,” Clint informed. Natasha clicked on the pictures to see a red-headed woman looking back at her, clenching her hand and crushing a Chitauri chariot with the aliens in it.
As Clint said, there were a few hundred hits. Each rendition of the picture looked a little different when the values were altered to prevent a repeat, and each picture was then run through the Shield databases in search of a matching face. The hits came from police databases, people of interest, and so on. Some of the hits Natasha discounted the moment she saw them, but some seemed more promising than others.
“This spy stuff just gets easier and easier,” Clint remarked, earning a non-committal hum from Natasha in response. She didn’t exactly disagree. Technology was making the research part of spy work a lot easier and simpler. Fieldwork too, admittedly. But it felt dangerous, relying on it so much. “Shield’s already drafting up their own version of the filter and a few others probably.”
“Are you going to name it after yourself?” Natasha asked, going through the list of the most likely candidates in her eyes. Audry Smith, Helen Evans, Daisy Weathers, Courtney Downs, Jean Grey, Mia McConners, just to name a few. Her eyes lingered on Jean Grey -- she had the emptiest file by far. No social media of any kind, no recent pictures, and the only thing that they really had on file about her was that she went to a private school in uptown New York.
Odd, considering that her parents were listed as low-income. The scholarship could explain that, but less so when she gave a precursory glance over the parents to see that they made no mention of their daughter at all on their own social media platforms. No pictures or happy birthday messages. A falling out or something more? She put a pin in her, making Jean a top priority.
“Eh, Bartoning doesn’t really have a ring to it. And Clinting doesn’t sound family-friendly, so I’ll hold off,” Clint replied. Natasha’s car made its way through the busty streets of New York and she found that the traffic was an absolute nightmare. Still, she made her way through it as she headed to the center point of the Incident -- Downtown New York. The rubble was being cleared out, and buildings were being demolished and erected. It would take years for New York to reach its former glory, but the signs of the damage were already being smoothed away.
“What’s your feel on them?” Natasha questioned, choosing to not make a remark on his choice in names, though she did smirk ever so slightly. A genuine one. Clint was one of the few people who could get an honest expression out of her.
Clint was silent for a long few seconds as if debating that himself. “I think it's easy to see a conspiracy when you’ve been wired to look for them,” he decided while Natasha pulled up more files about odd occurrences that happened in the invasion. After a few weeks, most of them had been vetted and revealed to be duds, but a few had revealed that the Avengers weren’t the only ones fighting in the invasion.
Jane Doe, the redhead with telekinetic powers. John Doe, a brown haired man with most of his face covered by a headpiece that shot blood-red lasers at the Chitauri, dealing devastating damage. Both were dressed in casual clothing, but tracing their footsteps back led nowhere because the invasion destroyed the evidence. Additionally, there were several other locations throughout New York that displayed signs of combat that didn’t line up with any of the known locations for the Avengers, Audacity, or her two Does.
“Those two? Seem around the same age and both of them are dressed up a bit. I’m thinking the Incident ruined a date between them. They were near Central Park,” Clint voiced his opinion, and it fit. “Too early to discount that they’re in league with Audacity, but I think it's unlikely. They saw aliens attacking people and they used their powers and sunglasses to step up to the plate.” A generous take to Natasha’s much more reserved one.
Clint saw the best in people, despite all evidence to the contrary. It was his best trait. Without it… he would have killed her like he was ordered to instead of risking his life and career on helping her, especially when she hadn’t deserved it.
“I don’t like it,” Natasha admitted to him as she began rapidly approaching her destination -- a Shield base located out in the open in an old pastrami sandwich shop. Setting the tablet to the side, Natasha once again grabbed the Veil to cover her features.
“You also know that it's too early to call it a conspiracy. There are eight million people living in this city. Counting the Avengers, Audacity, and those two? They’re looking like the one in a million people that stand out and they happened to live here when aliens attacked,” Clint pointed out, annoyingly so. He did have a point. They could be like Banner -- genetic oddities that managed to stay under the radar due to causing less… collateral damage when using their powers.
Getting out of the car, the call went to her earpiece. “We’ll know if it is a conspiracy when we get the intel,” she said, her gaze going to a window in front of the secret base. Regular customers came in and out of it as a cover, and because of it, she could see a child playing with an action figure clearly styled after her. “That I may be getting. Keep an eye out for me,” Natasha said, earning an agreeing grunt from Clint before she ended the call with a little more force than necessary.
There were a few telling signs that you were a disaster as a spy, and Natasha was pretty sure that one of them was having action figures made of you. Stark certainly worked fast making the most of the licenses. He certainly bought himself a lot of goodwill with his relief efforts to those that were affected by the Incident. The toy sales were through the roof and every penny went to funding those relief efforts. Tony lost money with every sale so far, but he had more than enough to spare.
The pastrami shop smelled delicious, but she ignored it in favor of heading straight to the back room after a knowing glance at the man behind the counter. A basement door opened up to her, only with the press of a button, the first few stairs became a platform that sunk downwards a good hundred feet. Deep enough to never have to worry about the sewer and metro lines. When the elevator came to a stop, she saw a large wide open room that was filled with monitors.
In front of them was Nick Fury, who watched a screen of a familiar face. Phil Coulson lay in a bed, the covers pulled up just below his chest, while a team of doctors watched over him. He was connected to a number of machines that monitored his vitals for any sign of a drop. Next to him was a heart monitor that beeped at regular intervals.
Not bad for a man that had his heart cut in half.
“Operation T.A.H.I.T.I was a success?” Natasha questioned as she approached Nick from behind, coming to a stop just behind him. She'd always liked Phil. He was a good agent, reliable, and had a good heart. His loss was unfortunate. His resurrection, however? That’s why she was willing to entertain more… extraordinary explanations. The details of Project Tahiti weren’t known to her, but she knew the aim of the project.
Bringing the dead back to life. It was meant to be used on the Avengers in case they suffered a fatality. Heroes were icons to look up to. A hero dying? That would inspire fear instead. Tahiti would bring them back without missing a beat, so no one would be the wiser unless the event was seen firsthand. Thus far, Tahiti proved to be a double edged blade -- it brought people back to life, but the process was hellish, and those that came back were driven insane by the substance given to them for their resurrection.
“He’s recovering. We’ll be wiping his memories of the ordeal in a few weeks. Let him think he took some RnR in Tahiti to recover,” Nick answered, his voice unusually solemn. Nick Fury was a man of many secrets, but it wasn’t one that he genuinely liked and respected Phil. Enough to bring the man back from the dead. However, it was too early to tell if that was a kindness or a curse. “It’ll be a few months until he’s back on his feet and a few more before he’s ready for fieldwork.”
Natasha said nothing about that. Though, to herself, she admitted that Nick was being too hopeful. They had no idea if Phil was going to be sane at the end of this, much less possibly going back to fieldwork as an agent. “You have something for me?”
“Two things,” Nick corrected, glancing at her with his only eye. He reached out and grabbed a file that was marked with the Level 8, and one that was marked with Level 9. Director Fury was the only one with Level 10 clearance in Shield, with Natasha and Clint being among the precious few that had access to level 9. Natasha opened the Level 8 file first -- it was the thicker of the two -- and she came face to face with her John Doe.
“Scott Summers,” Natasha read his name aloud, tilting her head as a young man looked back at her. One photo was of him as a teenager in high school eight years ago. Light brown hair, pale skin, warm brown eyes. “He’s cute in a puppy sort of way,” she decided, her gaze sliding to a photo that was taken without Scott’s knowledge since he wasn’t the target of the photo. Those warm brown eyes were hidden behind a pair of red sunglasses, and he certainly grew up.
Then she turned the page. “A puppy that certainly knows how to make a mess,” she remarked, looking at an aerial view of a high school -- Scott’s highschool -- to see that the roof had a line carved through it. Based on the blast and markings, something from within tore its way out. Something hot. Like a laser.
“A mess that we cleaned up,” Nick said, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. “Scott Summers was a bit of a troubled youth. Orphaned in his early childhood, sent off to Omaha, Nebraska of all places. Received a prescription for ruby quartz glasses to prevent migraines but the farmers in Nebraska bullied him for it. Shoved him around, gave him a few smacks, one of which knocked those glasses right off his face, and when he opened his eyes, that happened.”
“How long have we been following him?” Natasha questioned, her brow furrowing. If they had been following them, why was she just now getting this file?
Nick inclined his head to her, “We haven’t. After the incident, Scott Summers disappeared. This is his first appearance in eight years.”
“Without help?” Natasha arched a brow at that. When the Hulk rampaged through Harlem, it had taken considerable Shield resources to make sure that no one found Banner again. However, they had kept a close eye on him every step of the way. Scott would qualify for the same treatment. Laser eyes were a neat ability and it looked like they packed a punch.
“Because no one was looking for him,” Nick corrected, making Natasha’s eyes narrow to slits. No one was looking for him after a highschool was nearly demolished? Even if the media never found out because they squashed the story, that kind of cover-up would be well known in their circles. People would be looking for Scott. “No one was. Not us. Not anyone else. Everything in that folder? That was dredged up over the past two weeks.”
“Memory manipulation?” Natasha ventured, earning a nod from Nick, whose expression tightened.
A sigh escaped him, “I’ve been doing my own investigation. Started off because of what Audacity said about being inside Shield -- gave our systems a good cleaning, and we’ve been keeping a close eye on those that reentered. That’s when I found evidence of this file and started to dig. Interviewed the kids that were picking on Scott -- not only do they not remember him blasting a hole through the damn roof, what they do remember is that they bullied him verbally and then Scott walked off and was never seen again. Same goes for everyone that would have been on the scene -- from local cops to our own agents.”
The contrast was rather stark in the files, Natasha observed. The older records clearly displayed the destruction. However, eye witness reports that were gathered over the past few weeks recalled that a gasline had exploded within the school to explain the damage. It wasn’t a excuse that would hold up to scrutiny, but when no one was looking for inconsistencies, it didn’t need to.
He jabbed a finger at the file, “They couldn’t destroy all of the hard evidence, but they swept it under the rug and made everyone forget that it was there in the first place. I had to retrace some steps to get all of that. The point being? Whoever is standing behind Scott tampered with my mind. All of our minds. And I don’t like it one bit.” Nick bit out, his voice becoming a low growl, genuinely angry.
As cover-ups went, it was elaborate. Though, she wasn’t sure how it was possible. Not that she thought it was impossible, but as in she wasn’t certain about the method used. Was it an ability like Scott’s laser eyes? A unique artifact? A secret satellite in the sky that made people forget things? Depending on the answer, it raised the question of why someone would devote those resources to hiding Scott. Out of the goodness of their hearts? Or for something far more sinister?
For that matter, it couldn’t be a coincidence that he was found with another person with extraordinary abilities.
Clint was going to owe her money after this. She had been absolutely right about there being a conspiracy.
“I want to examine the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning,” Natasha decided. Scott had been erased for the most part. His paperwork was still there, but it wasn’t used. In Jane Doe’s case, the paper trail was established. However, it would explain why Jean Grey’s parents seemed to not care for their daughter at a precursory glance. It could be because they didn’t remember that she even existed. “I’ll take the necessary precautions.”
“Good,” Nick decided, trusting her with it. She would have whatever resources that she needed -- the most important one would be some kind of hard copy record of her mission and what she discovered. “I'll leave you to shake the tree to find what falls loose. However, before you do that, I do recommend that you look behind door number two.”
The other file. It was very thin. Experience told her that it was a single piece of paper thin. Not a promising sign when the level of the file was so high. She flipped it open and saw that she was right before her eyebrows drew together in an expression of confusion. “Is there a reason why I’m looking at a DNA test that matches a woman eight hundred years ago?” She questioned, her gaze flickering up to Nick for an answer.
There was no picture, naturally. The DNA test did reveal that the mother was Welsh. Or, given the time period, Celtic.
“Because that woman is the mother of Audacity,” Nick told her, and a genuine frown tugged down at the edges of her lips. “The reason there weren’t any hits is that you were looking in the wrong era and in the wrong database. Thirty years ago, we got our hands on an 0-8-4 that had some blood on it. The previous director swabbed it and entered it into a top-secret database because whoever bled on it knew about the 0-8-4. Never got any hits until you ran your test with his blood and we got a match. Direct descendent from dried blood that’s at least eight hundred years old.”
Meaning that Audacity wasn’t a child at all. He was at least eight hundred years old.
Natasha was really starting to miss the days when things made sense.
