Reception Room – Fraternity Headquarters
Smith sat across from Phil Coulson, studying the agent with calculated interest. SHIELD's attention was inevitable, he'd known that since the High Table war. The question was whether they'd noticed the Dragon Balls specifically, or just his enhanced capabilities.
The Shenron summoning was on international waters, no satellite coverage. They shouldn't know about that. This is probably about the fighting footage, me tearing through armed adjudicators like tissue paper.
Coulson settled into his chair with practiced ease, offering a disarming smile. "Mr. Smith Doyle, I'm Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."
Smith's lips quirked. "I thought you said you were FBI when you arrived."
"Technically, yes. Different division now." Coulson's expression didn't change. "Our organization isn't well-known to the public, so we occasionally borrow credentials from more recognizable agencies. Easier than explaining our actual mandate every time."
Classic SHIELD. Operating in the shadows while pretending to be something mundane. Smith leaned back in his chair. "And what exactly is the 'Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division' interested in with me?"
"That's quite a mouthful, isn't it?" Coulson chuckled. "Between you and me, I think the name needs work. I'll suggest to Director Fury that we abbreviate it."
"SHIELD," Smith said dryly. "Has a better ring to it."
"I'll pass that along." Coulson's smile widened slightly. "But before we get to the purpose of my visit, let me explain what we do. We're a subsidiary of the World Security Council, primarily tasked with investigating and managing extraordinary threats and phenomena. Unusual incidents that fall outside normal law enforcement parameters."
Smith gestured for him to continue, keeping his expression neutral.
"Based on our surveillance of your recent activities, Mr. Doyle, your physical abilities far exceed normal human limits." Coulson's tone remained conversational, but his eyes were sharp. "Which leads me to ask, has the Fraternity successfully developed a super soldier serum?"
Smith felt a flicker of surprise. They're still hung up on the serum angle. I suppose my strength and durability do mirror Captain America's profile. Enhanced, but not obviously supernatural.
"No," Smith said simply. "We're not conducting serum research of any kind."
Coulson studied his face for several seconds, then nodded slowly. The disappointment was subtle but visible. "I believe you. Then we're looking at an isolated mutation, which is actually our primary area of concern."
He wanted it to be a serum, Smith realized. SHIELD could steal or buy a serum. A unique mutation is harder to replicate or control.
"And what does SHIELD do with mutations?" Smith asked, his tone carefully casual. "Dissect us for science?"
Coulson laughed. "You've been watching too many conspiracy thrillers, Mr. Doyle. We're not some sinister black-ops organization harvesting metahumans. Our mandate is to protect global security and manage supernatural incidents. Most people in this world are ordinary. When someone with extraordinary abilities emerges, we make contact, establish communication, and ensure they're not a threat."
Smith inclined his head slightly. That's the official line, anyway. The reality is probably more complicated.
"So you're here to make friends?" Smith kept the skepticism out of his voice. Barely.
"Partially." Coulson leaned forward slightly. "I'm here to open a dialogue. And to inform you that you're not unique, there are others with special abilities operating in this world. Some work with us. Others maintain their independence. As long as they don't pose a threat to civilian populations, we maintain a hands-off approach."
He paused, then added, "I'm also here to request discretion. Try not to demonstrate your full capabilities in public view. Video footage of metahuman feats tends to cause panic. Bad for everyone involved."
Smith processed that. They're not demanding anything. Just... asking politely. That's surprisingly reasonable for SHIELD. Though I'm sure they have contingencies if I refuse.
"As for the Fraternity's operations," Coulson continued, "your activities are technically illegal, but they fall outside our jurisdiction. We focus on supernatural threats, not organized crime." He smiled slightly. "Unless, of course, organized crime develops supernatural capabilities. Then it becomes our problem."
"I appreciate the clarification," Smith said. "The Fraternity has its own procedures for dealing with threats. We're selective about our targets."
"I'm sure you are." Coulson reached into his jacket and withdrew a business card, placing it on the table between them. "I won't take up more of your time. But I wanted to establish contact. This world is more complicated than most people realize. I suspect we'll cross paths again someday."
He stood, straightening his jacket. "When that happens, I hope we're on the same side."
Smith didn't stand. He simply nodded. "We'll see."
Coulson departed with the same professional courtesy he'd arrived with. The door closed softly behind him.
Smith stared at the business card on the table.
Agent Phil Coulson – Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. A phone number and email address, nothing else.
Interesting approach. No threats, no demands, just friendly surveillance and a request for cooperation. Very different from how they handled some other metahumansI remember from the AOS TV Timeline.
Coulson mentioned others with abilities. He's probably thinking about mutants, or maybe early-stage Inhumans. SHIELD maintains files on everyone extraordinary, I'm just another entry in their database now.
The real question was SHIELD's weapon development. The Tesseract-powered energy weapons they'd eventually deploy, could those penetrate his Saiyan durability? Unknown. And then there was Carol Danvers, though she wouldn't return to Earth for years yet.
Current SHIELD isn't a threat. I'm stronger than anything they can field right now. But I need to avoid giving them reason to escalate.
Smith pocketed the business card and left the reception room. His mind was already moving past the SHIELD complication. They'd watch him. He'd let them. As long as both sides maintained the status quo, there was no conflict.
He had more interesting things to focus on.
Training Ground #2
Smith stood alone in the center of the massive indoor facility. Training Ground #2 was normally used for large-scale combat drills and weapons testing, but he'd cleared it for the afternoon. What he was about to attempt required space and privacy.
Flight. Young Goku didn't have this ability during his early adventures, he relied on the Flying Nimbus until he learned the Flight Technique at Kami's Lookout after defeating King Piccolo. But I'm not limited by that progression.
He'd watched the technique demonstrated countless times in his previous life. Son Gohan teaching Videl how to fly during the high school arc, the explanation had been simple. Control your ki, project it outward, use it to push against gravity itself.
If Videl could learn it with basic ki control, I should master it quickly.
Smith closed his eyes and focused inward. He could feel his ki now, the energy flowing through his body like a second circulatory system. Warm, electric, responsive to his will.
He gathered it, concentrating the energy in his core, then slowly pushed it outward. Not as a weapon like the Kamehameha, but as a field, surrounding his body, supporting his weight.
The first attempt failed. His ki dispersed uselessly.
Second attempt, he managed to create the field, but it was uneven. One side stronger than the other.
Third attempt,
His feet left the ground.
Smith's eyes snapped open. He hovered three inches above the floor, arms spread for balance. The sensation was surreal, weightless but controlled, like standing on an invisible platform.
He adjusted the ki distribution carefully. Rose another foot. Then another.
A grin spread across his face. It's working.
He pushed harder, shooting upward. Twenty feet. Forty. He stopped near the ceiling, looking down at the training ground below. The perspective shift was dizzying and exhilarating.
Smith experimented with movement. Forward thrust, he shot across the facility. Too fast, nearly crashing into the wall. He corrected, slowing himself. Backward, side to side, spiraling up and down.
"This is incredible," he said aloud, laughing. The sound echoed in the empty space.
Within minutes, he'd achieved basic proficiency. Banking turns, sudden stops, rapid acceleration. His Saiyan physiology adapted quickly, and his assassin training provided the spatial awareness and body control needed to avoid obstacles.
But the training ground was too confined. He wanted to push his top speed, see what he was truly capable of. That required open space.
The ocean.
Just like when we summoned Shenron, international waters, no witnesses, no complications.
Smith descended and landed smoothly. He pulled out his phone and dialed John Wick's number.
"John, I need the yacht. Take it out to the same coordinates where we summoned the dragon. I'll meet you there."
"Understood, Chief. How soon?"
"Within the hour."
Smith ended the call and headed for the exit. His tail swished behind him with barely contained excitement.
Time to see just how fast a Saiyan can fly.
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