Nick Fury did not wait for an invitation. He crossed the small room in three strides and pulled the desk chair around to face the bed, sitting down with the controlled movements of someone who knew exactly how intimidating his presence could be. His single eye never left Marcus's face.
"Director Fury," Marcus said, sitting up slowly and keeping his hands visible. His heart hammered in his chest, but he forced his expression to remain calm. "I told Agent Coulson everything I remembered about the attack."
"You told him a version of events," Fury corrected, his voice low and measured. "A version that conveniently leaves out some interesting details. Like how a woman trained in close-quarters combat ended up unconscious against a wall with electrical burns on her arms, while you, barely recovered from a head injury, walked away with nothing more than a few bruises."
Marcus's mind raced through possible explanations, weighing each one for plausibility. He could not reveal the truth about his powers, but he needed to give Fury something that would satisfy the director's suspicions. Fury was too experienced, too perceptive to accept a simple denial.
"The medical equipment," Marcus said, crafting his lie carefully. "When we struggled, we knocked over the cart. Something must have still been plugged in, something that delivered a shock when she hit it. I did not see exactly what happened because I was on the floor at the time."
Fury leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "I had my people examine that room with a fine-tooth comb. There was no equipment that could have delivered the kind of shock that woman received. The burns on her arms are consistent with high-voltage electrical contact, but every piece of equipment in that room was either unplugged or operating on low-voltage battery power."
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken questions. Marcus knew that Fury was giving him a chance to come clean, to offer a better explanation before the director drew his own conclusions. But what could he say that would not make his situation worse?
"I do not know what happened," Marcus said finally, meeting Fury's gaze directly. "The fight was chaotic, and I was fighting for my life. All I know is that she came at me with lethal intent, and when the guards arrived, she was unconscious. If there is something unusual about the way she was injured, I cannot explain it."
Fury studied him for a long moment, and Marcus had the uncomfortable sensation of being assessed like a piece of complex machinery, taken apart, examined, and evaluated for usefulness. Then the director's expression shifted slightly, becoming marginally less hostile.
"The woman we pulled out of that room is a ghost," Fury said. "No fingerprints in any database, no dental records, no DNA matches. She has had extensive plastic surgery to alter her appearance, and she is refusing to speak to anyone. But we did find something interesting when we searched her belongings."
Fury pulled a tablet from inside his coat and turned it to show Marcus the screen. A photograph displayed a manila folder containing what appeared to be surveillance photos and a dossier. Marcus's own face stared back from several of the images, taken over what must have been several weeks.
"Someone has been watching you, Agent Reid. They documented your movements, your routines, your habits. They knew exactly when you would be alone and vulnerable. This was not a random attack or a case of mistaken identity. Someone specifically wanted you dead, and they invested significant resources into making it happen."
Marcus forced himself to look away from the tablet and back to Fury's face. "But why? I am just a junior analyst. I have not worked on anything that would make me a target for this kind of attention."
"That is what I intend to find out," Fury said, standing and tucking the tablet back into his coat. "I am reassigning you effective immediately. No more working in the analysis pool where anyone can see what files you are accessing. You will report directly to Agent Coulson for special assignments, and your work will be compartmentalized. If someone is afraid of what you might discover, I want to know what it is."
"Sir, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I am not sure I understand why you would promote someone who just became a security liability."
Fury's expression hardened. "You are not a liability, Agent Reid. You are a puzzle, and I do not like unsolved puzzles in my organization. Someone thinks you are important enough to kill. That makes me very interested in keeping you alive and finding out why. Report to Coulson's office at oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow. He will brief you on your first assignment."
The director moved toward the door, then paused with his hand on the handle. He turned back to face Marcus, and something in his expression had shifted again, become almost contemplative.
"One more thing, Agent Reid. I have been doing this job for a long time, and I have seen things that would make most people question their sanity. I have learned not to make assumptions about what is and is not possible. If you ever decide you want to tell me the whole truth about what happened in that medical bay, my door is open. But until then, I suggest you be very careful about who you trust."
Fury left without waiting for a response, the door locking behind him with a solid magnetic thunk. Marcus sat in the silence that followed, his mind working through the implications of the conversation. Fury suspected something, that much was clear. But he was willing to wait, to let Marcus prove himself before pressing for answers. That bought time, but it also meant Marcus would be under much closer scrutiny going forward.
The rest of the night passed slowly. Marcus tried to sleep but found his mind too active, churning through plans and contingencies. He finally gave up as dawn approached and used the time to review everything he knew about Phil Coulson. The original Marcus Reid had met Coulson only a handful of times, always in passing at briefings or during routine administrative matters. But Marcus knew from his previous life that Coulson was one of the good ones, a man who genuinely believed in SHIELD's mission and who would eventually die defending it.
Could he trust Coulson with some version of the truth? Not the whole story, that would be impossible to believe, but perhaps enough to build an alliance that would help when the time came to expose HYDRA's infiltration.
At oh-seven-hundred hours, an agent arrived with breakfast and a SHIELD tactical uniform in Marcus's size. The uniform felt strange against his skin, simultaneously familiar from the original Marcus's memories and alien because of his own consciousness wearing it. He dressed carefully, checking that everything fit properly and that all his equipment was secure.
At oh-seven-forty-five, the same agent returned to escort Marcus through the Triskelion's corridors. They took elevators up to the administrative levels, passing through security checkpoints that required biometric scans and access codes. Marcus recognized the route from memories that were not quite his own, but everything felt subtly different when experienced directly rather than remembered secondhand.
Agent Coulson's office was exactly what Marcus expected, neat, organized, and decorated with various pieces of memorabilia that spoke to the man's personal interests. Vintage trading cards in protective cases lined one shelf. A collection of authentic historical artifacts occupied another. The desk itself was clear except for a tablet and a single manila folder.
Coulson looked up as Marcus entered, his expression professionally friendly. "Agent Reid, please have a seat. How are you feeling this morning?"
"Better, sir. Ready to get back to work."
Coulson gestured to one of the chairs facing his desk, and Marcus sat down, keeping his posture relaxed but attentive. The senior agent studied him for a moment, much as Fury had done, though with less overt intimidation.
"Director Fury has asked me to bring you onto my team for a series of special assignments. Your analytical skills and field experience make you well-suited for the kind of work we do, which often involves investigating unusual situations that do not fit into standard operational parameters. However, given the recent attempt on your life, I need to know that you are mentally and physically prepared to return to active duty."
"I am prepared, sir. Doctor Chen cleared me for light duty, and I am confident I can handle whatever assignments you need me to complete."
Coulson opened the folder on his desk and pulled out several photographs. He spread them across the surface, and Marcus leaned forward to examine them. The images showed what appeared to be a warehouse facility, with shipping containers and heavy equipment visible in the background.
"Three weeks ago, we received intelligence about a weapons trafficking operation moving advanced technology through a network of shell corporations. The technology in question appears to be based on recovered alien artifacts, similar to what we saw in the aftermath of the New Mexico incident last year. We have identified this warehouse in Baltimore as a potential distribution point, but we need someone to conduct surveillance and gather evidence before we can move in with a full tactical team."
Marcus studied the photographs carefully, noting details about the facility's layout and security measures. The warehouse had excellent sight lines, multiple entry and exit points, and what looked like sophisticated electronic security systems. It would not be an easy target for surveillance.
"What kind of timeframe are we looking at?" Marcus asked.
"We need eyes on the facility within the next forty-eight hours. Our intelligence suggests that a major shipment is scheduled to arrive sometime this week, and we want to be in position to track where it goes after it leaves this location. You will be working with a partner who has more field experience, but I want your analytical perspective on the operation as well."
Coulson pulled another photograph from the folder, this one showing a dark-haired woman in tactical gear. Marcus felt his breath catch slightly as he recognized the face, even though he had never actually met her in either of his lives.
"This is Agent Maria Hill. She is one of our best field operatives and has extensive experience with surveillance operations. She will be the senior agent on this assignment, and you will follow her lead. Agent Hill can be demanding, but she is also one of the most competent people I have ever worked with. Pay attention to how she operates, and you will learn a great deal."
Maria Hill. Marcus's mind supplied details that the original agent's memories could not, her eventual position as Deputy Director, her relationship with Fury, her role in exposing HYDRA's infiltration. She was someone who would become increasingly important as events unfolded, and this assignment would be Marcus's first opportunity to establish a working relationship with her.
"When do I meet Agent Hill?" Marcus asked, keeping his voice professionally neutral.
"She is waiting in the briefing room down the hall. I will take you there now and introduce you. She already has the full mission brief and has been preparing for the surveillance operation. Your role will be to assist her and provide analytical support as needed."
Coulson stood and gestured for Marcus to follow him. They walked down a corridor lined with offices and conference rooms, eventually stopping at a door marked "Briefing Room Three." Coulson knocked once and entered without waiting for a response.
The woman standing beside the briefing table looked exactly like her photographs, but somehow more intimidating in person. Maria Hill stood about five-ten, with dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail and sharp brown eyes that assessed Marcus in a single sweeping glance. She wore black tactical pants and a dark blue shirt that marked her as SHIELD operations division, and she carried herself with the confidence of someone who had nothing to prove.
"Agent Hill, this is Agent Marcus Reid. He will be assisting you with the Baltimore surveillance operation."
Hill's expression did not change, but something in her posture suggested she was less than thrilled about being assigned a partner. "Agent Coulson, with respect, I work better alone. Surveillance operations require a specific skill set, and I do not have time to train someone who has spent most of his career behind a desk."
"Agent Reid's analytical skills will be valuable for this operation," Coulson said, his tone pleasant but firm. "And his field evaluations indicate that he is more than capable of handling himself in tactical situations. I am confident that you two will work well together."
Hill turned her full attention to Marcus, and he felt the weight of her scrutiny. "Can you handle a weapon without shooting yourself, Agent Reid?"
"I qualified expert marksman at the academy, ma'am. I am comfortable with standard SHIELD firearms and have field experience in urban and rural environments."
"Can you maintain surveillance discipline for extended periods without getting bored or distracted?"
"Yes, ma'am. I have conducted surveillance operations during previous assignments, though admittedly not at this level of complexity."
Hill continued to study him for another long moment, then nodded once. "Fine. But if you compromise this operation through inexperience or carelessness, I will make sure you spend the rest of your career analyzing budget reports in a basement office. Are we clear?"
"Crystal clear, ma'am."
"Good. Agent Coulson, if there is nothing else, I would like to brief Agent Reid on the operational parameters and begin preparations for deployment."
Coulson smiled slightly, seeming amused by Hill's directness. "I will leave you to it. Agent Reid, good luck. Check in with me once you return from Baltimore."
After Coulson left, Hill moved to the briefing table and pulled up a holographic display showing detailed maps of the Baltimore warehouse and surrounding area. She manipulated the image with practiced ease, highlighting key features and potential observation points.
"We deploy tomorrow at oh-six-hundred hours. We will establish surveillance positions covering all entrances to the facility and maintain continuous monitoring until we identify targets of interest. The operation could last anywhere from two days to two weeks, depending on when the shipment arrives and where it goes afterward. Do you have any issues with spending that much time in the field?"
"No, ma'am. I am prepared for whatever the operation requires."
Hill glanced at him, and for the first time, her expression softened slightly. "I read your file before this meeting. Your performance evaluations are impressive, and your field supervisors speak highly of your capabilities. But you were also nearly killed two days ago, and you are technically still on medical restriction. If you are not ready for this assignment, now is the time to say so. I need a partner I can rely on, not someone who is going to freeze up or panic when things get complicated."
Marcus met her gaze directly. "I am ready, Agent Hill. I will not let you down."
She studied him for another moment, then nodded. "All right then. Let us go over the operational plan in detail. We have a lot to cover before deployment."
The next several hours were intense. Hill walked Marcus through every aspect of the surveillance operation with meticulous precision. She explained how they would rotate shifts to maintain continuous coverage, what equipment they would need, how to identify potential targets, and what protocols to follow for communication and emergency extraction. She tested his knowledge repeatedly, throwing hypothetical scenarios at him and demanding immediate responses.
By the time they finished, Marcus's head was swimming with operational details, but he also felt a grudging respect for Hill's thoroughness. She was demanding and exacting, but everything she did was designed to increase their chances of success and minimize the risk of compromise. She was exactly the kind of partner he would want on a dangerous operation.
"Get some rest tonight," Hill said as they concluded the briefing. "We have a long drive tomorrow, and once we are in position, sleep will be limited. Meet me at the motor pool at oh-five-thirty hours. Do not be late."
"Yes, ma'am. I will be there."
Hill paused as she gathered her materials, then looked at him again. "One more thing, Agent Reid. I heard about what happened in the medical bay. Whoever tried to kill you is still out there, and they may try again. Watch your back, and if you notice anything unusual, report it immediately. I do not want to lose a partner before we even start the mission."
There was genuine concern in her voice, carefully hidden beneath professional detachment. Marcus realized that despite her harsh exterior, Maria Hill actually cared about the people she worked with. That was good to know.
"I will be careful, ma'am. Thank you."
Marcus returned to his secured room and spent the evening preparing for the deployment. He checked and rechecked his equipment, reviewed the mission parameters one final time, and tried to get his body and mind into the right state for what lay ahead. This would be his first real field operation since awakening in this world, his first chance to prove himself as an agent and begin building the reputation and relationships that would be crucial for his long-term goals.
But it was also his first opportunity to test his abilities in a controlled environment, to see if he could use them subtly to enhance his performance without revealing their existence. He would need to be very careful about how and when he employed his powers, ensuring that any advantage they provided could be explained through skill or luck rather than supernatural intervention.
Sleep came easier this time, his body exhausted from the long day and his mind finally settling into a state of readiness rather than anxiety. He dreamed of surveillance operations and hidden enemies, of purple energy dancing between his fingers and the weight of future knowledge pressing down on his shoulders.
When his alarm went off at oh-five-hundred hours, Marcus was already awake. He dressed quickly in the tactical gear Hill had specified, checked his equipment one final time, and made his way to the motor pool. He arrived at oh-five-twenty-five, early enough to demonstrate punctuality but not so early as to seem overeager.
Hill was already there, loading equipment into a nondescript black SUV. She glanced at him as he approached, gave a slight nod of approval at his timing, and gestured to the cargo area.
"Help me load the rest of the surveillance equipment. We have a four-hour drive ahead of us."
They worked in efficient silence, stowing gear in carefully organized configurations that would allow quick access if needed. Marcus noticed that Hill had packed enough supplies for an extended operation, food, water, backup equipment, medical supplies, and contingency gear that suggested she planned for multiple possible scenarios.
As dawn broke over Washington DC, they pulled out of the Triskelion's underground parking garage and headed north toward Baltimore. The early morning traffic was light, and Hill drove with the same precise competence she brought to everything else. She did not try to make conversation, seemingly content with silence, and Marcus did not push. He used the time to review the mission parameters in his mind and watch the city give way to highway.
They were thirty minutes outside Washington when Hill's phone buzzed with an incoming message. She glanced at the screen, and her expression tightened.
"We have a problem. Intelligence just flagged unusual activity at the warehouse. Multiple vehicles arrived within the last hour, and thermal imaging suggests significant personnel inside the facility. The shipment may have already arrived, which means we are behind schedule."
Hill pressed down harder on the accelerator, and the SUV surged forward. "Change of plans. We are going in immediately for a fast reconnaissance to see what we are dealing with. This is going to be more dangerous than anticipated, so stay sharp and follow my lead exactly. Understood?"
"Understood."
They drove in tense silence for another two hours, the landscape changing from urban sprawl to industrial districts as they approached Baltimore. Hill navigated through surface streets with the confidence of someone who had memorized the route, eventually pulling into an abandoned industrial complex about half a mile from their target.
She killed the engine and turned to face Marcus. "We go in on foot from here. Radio silence unless absolutely necessary. If something goes wrong, the extraction point is two blocks north at the marked coordinates. Do not attempt heroics if we get separated. Get out and report what you saw. Are you ready?"
Marcus checked his sidearm and confirmed his equipment was secure. "Ready."
They exited the vehicle and moved through the abandoned complex with practiced stealth. Hill set a quick pace, using available cover and staying in shadows wherever possible. Marcus followed her lead, his enhanced senses picking up details that he normally would have missed, the faint sound of voices in the distance, the smell of diesel fuel and gun oil, the subtle vibration of heavy machinery running somewhere ahead.
They reached the outer perimeter of the target warehouse and took up position behind a stack of rusted shipping containers. Hill pulled out a compact pair of binoculars and scanned the facility, her expression growing more concerned with each passing second.
"Count at least twenty hostiles, all armed with military-grade weapons. Three trucks in the loading bay, currently being unloaded. Whatever they are moving, it is big enough to require heavy equipment."
She passed the binoculars to Marcus, and he took his turn observing the facility. He could see armed guards patrolling the perimeter, workers moving crates from the trucks into the warehouse, and supervisors coordinating the operation with military precision. This was no small-time smuggling ring. This was a professional operation with serious resources.
Then Marcus saw something that made his blood run cold. One of the supervisors turned toward the perimeter, and Marcus got a clear look at his face. He recognized the man instantly from the original Marcus Reid's memories, Agent Brock Rumlow, a member of SHIELD's STRIKE team and one of the most dangerous HYDRA operatives who would eventually reveal himself during the Winter Soldier crisis.
HYDRA was running this operation. And if Rumlow was here personally, it meant whatever they were moving was important to their plans.
"Agent Hill, we need to pull back and call for backup immediately. This operation is much bigger than we anticipated."
Hill lowered her binoculars and looked at him sharply. "What did you see?"
Before Marcus could answer, gunfire erupted from inside the warehouse. The guards on the perimeter immediately went on high alert, weapons raised and searching for targets. Then a massive explosion ripped through one of the trucks, sending flaming debris high into the air.
Hill grabbed Marcus's arm and yanked him down behind the containers. "We need to move now. Someone else is hitting this facility, and we are about to be caught in the crossfire."
They started to retreat, but then Marcus heard it, the distinctive whine of repulsor technology charging up. He looked up just in time to see a figure in red and gold armor descending from the sky, weapons systems active and targeting the warehouse.
Iron Man had arrived.