The interior of the Quinjet was suddenly filled with the roar of the atmosphere as the hatch hissed open. At thirty thousand feet, the air was a freezing, thin knife, but Leander stepped inside as casually as if he were walking into a coffee shop. He raised a hand, and with a subtle flick of his fingers, the mechanical locks snapped back into place, sealing the cabin and restoring the pressure.
"I'm telling you, Phil, the aerodynamics on this thing are a nightmare to cling to," Leander said, shivering slightly as he shook the frost off his shoulders.
Steve Rogers hadn't moved. He stood with his feet braced, his hands curled into fists. He looked at the teenager—who couldn't have been older than seventeen—and then at the shimmering golden wings that were currently folding into the boy's back like liquid origami.
"Coulson," Steve said, his voice low and dangerous. "Who is this? And why isn't he in the briefing?"
"It's alright, Captain," Coulson said, though he was still visibly vibrating with the shock of the entrance. "This is Leander Hayes. He's... well, 'consultant' is the official title, but Director Fury has been looking for him for seven months. He's off the books. Level 10 eyes only."
Leander turned to the Captain. Up close, Steve Rogers was an imposing wall of a man, radiating an aura of old-school authority that even Leander's enhanced senses found impressive.
"Captain Rogers," Leander said, extending a hand. "Big fan. Well, mostly of the shield, but the guy carrying it is alright too."
Steve hesitated, then reached out. His grip was like a vice—the legendary strength of the Super Soldier. He applied a bit of pressure, testing the boy, but Leander didn't flinch. In fact, Steve felt a strange sensation, as if he were trying to squeeze a solid bar of titanium. Leander's hand didn't compress; it didn't even give. With a smooth, almost oily motion, Leander's hand slipped out of the grip.
"Surprising," Steve noted, his eyes narrowing. "New tech? Stark's work?"
"A bit of this, a bit of that," Leander replied cryptically. He turned to Coulson. "So, we're heading to the big boat? I assume Fury is still wearing the eyepatch and the 'I'm-very-disappointed-in-humanity' expression?"
"He's waiting, Leander. And he's not the only one who's been worried," Coulson said, glancing at the comms.
The reunion with Tony Stark over the holographic link was exactly as loud as Leander expected.
"YOU!" Tony's face erupted onto the lenses of Leander's glasses. "Where have you been? I've had to deal with your Aunt Jenny's cooking and your Uncle George's 'helpful' suggestions for seven months! Do you have any idea how much therapy I'm going to need?"
"Nice to see you too, Tony," Leander grinned. "I heard you moved them to Malibu. Thanks for that. Truly."
"Yeah, well, don't think a thank-you gets you off the hook. I expect a full report, a blood sample, and you're washing the Mark VII when this is over," Tony snapped, though the relief in his eyes was unmistakable. "I'm tracking the energy signature of the Cube. It's messy. Stay with the Cap and the Spooks. I'll see you at the Helicarrier."
The line cut out. Leander looked at his reflection in the Quinjet window. He used his mental control to shift the molecular structure of the Vibranium mesh over his face, altering his features just enough to look like a generic, slightly older version of himself. He wasn't ready to let the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D. know his face.
The Quinjet touched down on the deck of the Helicarrier just as the massive vessel began its transition. Leander stepped out onto the tarmac, his boots clicking against the steel. The wind was howling, and the scent of ozone was thick in the air.
"Agent Romanoff," Leander nodded as Natasha approached.
"Leander," she replied, her eyes scanning him with the professional coldness that hid a mountain of curiosity. "You've grown. And you've changed your face. Good choice."
"Captain Rogers," Natasha said, turning to Steve. "You need to head to the bridge. We're starting the sweep."
As they walked, the deck beneath them began to groan. Steve looked around, his jaw dropping as the four massive turbine engines began to rotate. "Is this a submarine?"
"Submarines stay under, Captain," Leander remarked, looking at the churning water below. "This is more of an... iron bird. A very, very heavy iron bird."
Beside them, a man in a rumpled suit was looking at the engines with a mixture of awe and existential dread. Dr. Bruce Banner looked exactly how Leander remembered—tired, brilliant, and perpetually one bad day away from a catastrophe.
"Dr. Banner," Steve said, extending a hand.
"Oh, hi. They said you were coming," Banner replied, his voice soft. He looked at Leander and a small spark of recognition lit up his eyes. "Leander? Is that you? You look... different."
"Spent some time in the sun, Doc," Leander said, patting Banner on the shoulder. He could feel the 'Other Guy' lurking just beneath Banner's skin—a roiling, chaotic mass of Gamma energy. Compared to the steady, cold vibration of his own Iron Bones, the Hulk was a forest fire. "Glad you're here. We're going to need that big brain of yours."
"Just the brain, hopefully," Banner muttered.
The Helicarrier lurched upward. The "Background Reflection Panels" activated, turning the massive ship invisible to the world below. It was a marvel of engineering, a testament to what humanity could achieve when they were terrified of things that went bump in the night.
The Bridge was a hive of activity. Dozens of agents manned consoles, their fingers flying across transparent screens. Nick Fury stood at the center of it all, his back to the entrance.
Steve walked up to him and, without a word, handed Fury a ten-dollar bill.
Fury looked at the money, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "I forgot about the bet, Captain. Glad to see you're adjusting." He turned his gaze to Leander. "And you. I should have you arrested for going AWOL during a Level 7 crisis."
"You couldn't find me, Nick. Hard to arrest what you can't track," Leander countered, leaning against a railing.
"I have a new identity waiting for you in the system. 'Agent Hayes.' Consultant status. Try to stay in the building this time," Fury said. He then turned to the room at large. "Doctor, we have the spectrometers ready. Calibrate them for Gamma. If that Cube so much as blinks, I want to know where it is."
Natasha led Banner away to the labs. Steve wandered off to explore the ship, his mind clearly still back in 1945.
Leander stayed behind. He closed his eyes, extending his consciousness outward. The Helicarrier was a masterpiece of metal—tens of thousands of tons of high-grade steel, titanium, and specialized alloys. In his mind, it wasn't a ship; it was a buffet.
His control value was pegged at 149. His Iron Bones were at 99%. He could feel the bottleneck. It was a physical wall, a limit on how much his current form could process. He looked at the massive engines humming below his feet.
'If I just took one engine...' he thought, his stomach giving a strange, metallic growl. 'If I consumed the heart of this thing, would that final one percent finally click into place?'