Ghosts of the Past
The world had changed. Celeste could feel it in every breath, in every movement through the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Washington D.C. headquarters. It was different from the war, different from the quiet eternity of ice. The battles now were fought in shadows, buried beneath bureaucracy, hidden behind digital screens instead of enemy lines.
And she hated it.
She had spent the last two years adjusting, finding her place in this modern world, alongside Steve. Missions with S.H.I.E.L.D. were efficient, calculated—covert operations that left her questioning who the real enemies were. It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t clear-cut.
That morning, she and Steve had been briefed on a new mission. A hijacked S.H.I.E.L.D. vessel, the Lemurian Star, had been taken by pirates, and they were to reclaim it. A mission simple on paper, but something about it unsettled her. There were too many moving parts, too much secrecy in Fury’s voice when he had given them their orders.
“Try not to draw too much attention,” Natasha Romanoff had teased as they prepared to deploy. The Black Widow had been an enigma to Celeste from the start, a ghost in her own right. Their skill sets weren’t so different—both trained in deception, in survival—but where Celeste still clung to her sense of self, Natasha had long since learned to bury hers.
The mission went smoothly at first—too smoothly. Celeste moved like a phantom, her light-crafted blades glinting under the moon as she disabled guards in silence. Steve took the lead, moving with the same practiced precision he always did, while Natasha had her own objective, separate from the rest of them.
It wasn’t until the fight was over that the first cracks began to show.
Steve had found Natasha extracting data from the ship’s computers, working on a mission she hadn’t disclosed. The tension between them was palpable, even as they returned to headquarters. Celeste could see it in the tightness of Steve’s jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists. Secrets. She knew their weight all too well.
When they returned, Nick Fury was waiting.
“Want to tell us what’s really going on?” Celeste asked, arms crossed. She had grown used to the games Fury played, but she was running out of patience.
Fury hesitated, then led them deeper into the heart of S.H.I.E.L.D., into a place few had clearance to see.
“Project Insight,” he revealed, gesturing to the massive helicarriers being constructed beneath them. “Three next-generation carriers, synced to a network of satellites, designed for preemptive strikes before a threat even occurs.”
Celeste felt a chill crawl down her spine.
“This isn’t war,” she murmured. “This is mass surveillance. Mass execution.”
Steve looked just as disturbed. “Fury, this isn’t freedom. This is fear.”
Fury only gave them a measured look. “S.H.I.E.L.D. takes the world as it is, not as we’d like it to be.”
The conversation stuck with Celeste long after they left. She had fought for freedom once before, had risked everything for the chance to stand against tyranny. Now, she was starting to wonder if she was standing on the wrong side of the line.
And then Nick Fury was attacked.
She and Steve barely had time to process what had happened before Fury collapsed in Steve’s apartment, bloodied and broken, warning them with his last breath before slipping unconscious.
“Don’t trust anyone.”