Avengers 2000

Avengers 2000

Disclaimers: All characters are property of Marvel Entertainment and henceforth Disney, I don't own anything here.

Spoilers: some for the movies specified in the Fandoms ticket

A Forgotten Road, Night

The wind howled through the empty stretch of highway. The night was as dark as the soul of the man riding the motorcycle along it. Johnny Blaze, the Ghost Rider, revved his engine, and the bike roared through the desolate road. Flames flickered from his skull, their eerie glow casting distorted shadows across the blacktop. But Johnny was lost in thought, the fire burning in his chest a distant reminder of the curse he couldn’t escape.

In the distance, headlights pierced the dark, cutting through the night like a beacon. A black SUV, out of place on a road so far from civilization. Johnny’s eyes narrowed beneath the skull mask, and he could hear the vehicle’s engine grow louder as it skidded to a halt, blocking his path.

Johnny didn’t flinch. He didn’t stop the bike, merely leaned into the handlebars as the wheels ground to a halt just feet from the SUV. His boots hit the asphalt with a sharp echo, the sound sharp against the desert’s oppressive silence.

The SUV’s door swung open, and out stepped Nick Fury, his expression as serious as ever. He didn’t flinch at the sight of the flames that wreathed Johnny’s skull, nor did he seem unnerved by the infernal presence that seemed to radiate from the Ghost Rider. He’d dealt with worse.

“Blaze,” Fury called, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “We need to talk.”

Johnny’s eyes flashed with irritation, and a wisp of smoke curled from the edge of his skull. He wasn’t in the mood for this. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” he growled, his voice gravelly, like it had been scorched by years of fighting demons—both literal and personal.

Fury didn’t flinch. He’d faced worse than a pissed-off, flaming skeleton. “You’re a hard man to get a hold of, Blaze,” he said, stepping forward, “but I’m not here for small talk. We’ve got a problem—something bigger than anything you’ve faced.”

Johnny didn’t move, his gaze boring into Fury with contempt. “You’ve got a problem? You’re talking to the wrong guy, Fury. I’ve got enough problems to fill a thousand lifetimes. Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

Fury’s eyes didn’t soften. “You’re already involved, Johnny. Whether you like it or not. AIM has something big brewing, and you’re on their radar. I’m offering you a chance to put that power of yours to use—without burning yourself alive in the process.”

Johnny’s hands twitched, the familiar heat inside him flaring at the mention of his curse. His jaw clenched. Use the power? The fire was always there, just beneath the surface, threatening to consume him if he lost control. The last thing he wanted was to become someone’s weapon again.

“No,” Johnny spat, his voice dripping with defiance. “I don’t do the hero thing. I don’t need your help, and I sure as hell don’t need to be part of some team. You think I’m gonna fight your battles? I’ve got enough of my own to fight.”

Fury didn’t back down, sizing Johnny up. He could see the conflict, the pain, the internal war that was as much a part of Blaze as the flames he wore. The fire wasn’t just in his chest—it was in his soul.

“I’m not asking you to be a hero, Blaze,” Fury said, his voice calm and steady. “I’m asking you to stop something worse than anything you’ve ever faced. You don’t have to join a group, but AIM won’t stop unless they’re stopped. You’re more than capable of helping. In fact, you might be the one who can end this before it gets worse.”

Johnny’s grip on the handlebars tightened, the heat flaring in his chest with every word Fury spoke. The fire inside him roared in response to the challenge. But he wasn’t sure if he could control it.

“The Rider doesn’t answer to anyone,” Johnny growled, his voice thick with frustration. “I didn’t ask for this curse. I didn’t ask for any of it. I’m not a damn hero, Fury. I’m just trying to keep it together.”

Fury’s gaze hardened, but his voice softened. “You’re not just trying to keep it together, Johnny. You’re running. From the man you could be. You’ve got a gift—a curse, sure—but also a gift. The world’s burning, and you’re the one with the fire to fight it.”

Johnny stood there, silence hanging between them, the wind tugging at his leather jacket. Fury’s words cut deeper than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t just running from his past—he was running from what he could become. The thought of losing control again, of becoming the Rider fully and completely, terrified him more than anything else. But there was something in Fury’s eyes that made him stop and listen.

Fury continued, his voice almost gentle now. “I’m not asking you to join a family, Blaze. I’m asking you to make a choice. To be part of something bigger than yourself. You don’t have to trust me, but if you don’t step up, there’s no telling what AIM might unleash. And I doubt you want to see that happen.”

Johnny looked down at the ground, the weight of Fury’s words pressing down on him like a storm cloud. He didn’t want to be part of a team, didn’t want to let anyone into the mess of his life. But deep down, he knew that maybe, just maybe, the reason he fought alone wasn’t because he had to—but because he didn’t know how to fight for something greater than himself.

Finally, he sighed, frustration and resignation mixing in his voice.

“I don’t need saving,” he muttered. “But fine. I’ll listen. But don’t expect me to be anyone’s hero.”

Fury gave a small nod, approval in his eyes. “Good enough,” he said, turning toward the SUV. “We’ll be in touch.”

As Fury walked away, Johnny stood motionless, the flames of his skull flickering and burning brightly against the dark night. He wasn’t sure what he had just agreed to, but something in the air told him that this wasn’t just about AIM. It was about confronting his own demons—and maybe, just maybe, finding a way to stop running.

A Cabin in the Mountains, North of Canada

The wind howled through the trees, a bitter cold gnawing at the night. Logan sat alone by a small fire outside his cabin, the flickering flames casting long shadows across his rugged face. His brow was furrowed, his jaw set as he methodically cleaned his claws, the metal gleaming faintly in the weak light. The quiet wilderness, far from the chaos of the world, was the peace he craved.

But peace had always been a fleeting thing. Every moment of calm was followed by the gnawing bite of memories—fragments of a life stolen from him. His past, his identity, were a puzzle with too many missing pieces. Lies and government experiments buried the truth, leaving nothing but scars.

The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow broke the silence.

Logan’s head snapped up, his senses instantly alert. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. The scent, the deliberate pace—Nick Fury. The man had a way of showing up when Logan least expected it.

“Didn’t take you for a woodsman, Fury,” Logan muttered, his voice rough from years of isolation. He didn’t move, just kept his claws in hand, ready for whatever came next.

Fury stepped into the firelight, his face stern, unwavering. He studied Logan for a moment, his one good eye scanning him like a puzzle piece. It was a look Logan knew all too well—the one people gave him when they were sizing him up.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Fury said, his tone casual, though it held the edge of someone who always kept business first. “Don’t you get lonely?”

Logan grunted, a faint smirk crossing his face as he sheathed his claws. "I'm fine. Just me and the quiet. That's all I need."

Fury raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re running from something.”

Logan didn’t answer. He’d heard that before too many times. The world thought he was running from his past, from his demons. Maybe they were right.

After a long silence, Fury spoke again, his voice turning serious.

“I’m not here for small talk, Logan,” he said. “I’m here because there’s a situation. AIM’s making dangerous moves. They’re messing with things they don’t understand. If we don’t stop them, it’s not just mutantkind in danger. It’s everyone.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, a flash of suspicion flickering in his gaze. “I don’t do favors, Fury. Not for anyone who thinks they can control me.”

Fury didn’t back down. “I’m not asking you to join a team. Hell, I’m not even asking you to play by anyone’s rules. But I know you’ve got your own score to settle with people who think they own you. AIM’s no different. They experiment on people. Turn them into weapons. You wouldn’t want that to happen again.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. Fury had struck a nerve, but Logan wasn’t about to let it show. He leaned back against the cabin’s rough-hewn wall and lit a cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly, his eyes smoldering with the familiar fire of rage.

“You don’t know what they did to me,” Logan growled, his voice low, edged with a pain he never showed anyone. “I’ve spent enough years dealing with people playing god with my life. So no, I don’t care about AIM. They’re just the next in a long line of people who think they can mess with me.”

Fury’s expression softened just slightly, but his tone remained resolute. “You don’t have to care about them. But you should care about what they’re doing to others. You’ve been through hell, Logan. You don’t need to keep running from it. This is your chance to stop them before they make more of you.”

Logan took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling into the frigid night air. Fury was right. He had been running, hiding, trying to bury his past in the mountains for far too long. But there was a part of him—one he couldn’t ignore—that knew he couldn’t stay hidden forever. AIM wasn’t just messing with mutants; they were tampering with the very idea of humanity, turning people into weapons. And that struck too close to home.

“Why me?” Logan asked, his voice steady but laced with bitterness. “I’m not some soldier, Fury. I’m not a boy scout looking to play hero.”

Fury smiled just slightly, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “You don’t need to be a hero, Logan. You’ve fought enough battles in your life to know the difference between right and wrong. I’m offering you a chance to make sure someone else doesn’t end up as broken as you are.”

Logan let the words settle in the cold night air. There was no promise of redemption, no claim that joining Fury would make him a better man. But there was something in Fury’s words that resonated deep inside him. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop running.

“I’ll think about it,” Logan muttered after a long pause, his voice gruff, but less certain than before.

Fury didn’t push. He just nodded, accepting the answer for what it was.

“Take your time,” Fury said, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever. “But don’t take too long. This isn’t something you can run from forever, Logan. You know that.”

Logan didn’t respond. He flicked his cigarette into the snow and watched the embers die out in the cold.

As Fury walked away, Logan stared into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes. Maybe Fury was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

SHIELD HQ

Nick Fury sat behind his desk, the glow of multiple screens illuminating his face as he studied the images of the individuals he had just recruited. Each one was a puzzle piece, fractured and difficult to place, but vital nonetheless. Building a team of isolated, mistrutful individuals was no small feat—especially when those individuals were more accustomed to fighting alone.

Maria Hill stood before him, arms crossed, her gaze flicking between the screens with a mix of concern and disbelief.

"Are you sure about them, sir?" Hill asked, her voice even, but with an unmistakable edge of doubt. "About them working together, I mean. They're all loners. The only one who’s had any real experience with a team is Logan—and we know how that turned out."

Fury lifted his eyes from the screens, his expression as stoic and grim as ever. He had already calculated the risks, weighed the possible outcomes, and understood what was at stake. Still, his response carried a weight of finality.

“I know, Hill,” Fury said, his tone steady but underlined with a subtle weariness. “These people are fractured, unbalanced. But with the right push, they’ll be exactly what we need. We’re not just facing a team problem here—we’re facing a survival problem. This isn’t about saving the world... it’s about keeping it from unraveling.”

Hill’s skepticism didn’t fade. She stepped closer, her eyes scanning the faces of Spider-Man, Ghost Rider, Logan, Daredevil, and the others on the screens.

“You’re asking them to put aside years of distrust, their egos, and personal vendettas... not to mention their history with organizations like ours,” she said, her voice softening as she looked back at Fury. “Some of them barely trust anyone outside their own circle. You’re betting they’ll put all that aside. But what if they can’t?”

Fury leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the desk. He’d considered that, too. A team like this was a powder keg, and he knew it. But this wasn’t about bruised egos or ideological differences. It was about something far darker—something none of them could face alone.

“I’m not betting on them trusting me, Hill,” Fury said, his voice low, almost reflective. “I’m betting on them trusting the fight. Each one of them has been pushed to the edge. And I’m betting that when they see what’s coming… they’ll realize that working together is their only choice.”

Hill remained silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. She didn’t know if Fury’s gamble would pay off, but one thing was clear: when he made a decision, he stuck to it. The world would soon find out whether it was the right one.

“Maybe you’re right,” Hill finally said, her arms uncrossing as she returned her gaze to the screens. “But this better work. Because if it doesn’t, it’s not just the Avengers Initiative on the line—it’s everything.”

Fury didn’t respond immediately. He sat still, his eyes fixed on the screens, already moving ahead to the next step in his mind. He knew the risk—hell, he was the risk. But he also knew that risks were what separated the heroes from the bystanders.

“It will work,” he said finally, a quiet confidence in his voice. "It has to."

TO BE CONTINUED...