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

SHIELD HQ – Fury’s Office

Nick Fury leaned back in his chair, one hand gripping the edge of the file Banner and Spider-Man had just handed over. His one good eye scanned the contents, his expression hardening with each line. “Well… at least we got something out of that debacle,” he said finally, setting the folder down. “Incidentally, we’ve just confirmed the name of the process they’re using. Extremis.”

“Extremis?” Spider-Man said, tilting his head. “Sounds like something an edgy high schooler would name their garage band.”

Fury shot him a look but allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch in amusement. “Maybe. But whatever it sounds like, it’s a real danger. Banner, Parker—you’re dismissed. Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

Banner nodded and quietly left, with Spider-Man trailing behind, his usual quips subdued for once.

As the door closed behind them, Fury leaned forward, hands clasped on his desk. Maria Hill, standing at his side, gave him a questioning look.

“You didn’t tell them about the other news,” she said carefully.

“Project M?” Fury’s voice was low, almost a growl. “No. And I won’t until I’ve got an inkling of what the hell it actually is.”

Hill nodded, her expression unreadable. “You think it’s connected?”

Fury stared at the closed door, lost in thought. “I don’t know. But if it is… it’s a storm we’re not ready for.”

AIM Laboratory – Night

The AIM facility loomed ominously in the heart of an industrial wasteland, its cold, angular structure bathed in the eerie glow of floodlights. The constant hum of automated defenses—motion sensors, gun turrets, and patrol drones—blended with the distant hiss of unseen machinery, creating an oppressive soundtrack to the night. Inside, AIM’s scientists were pushing the boundaries of ethics and reason, experimenting with Extremis, a volatile serum with the potential to turn ordinary humans into living weapons.

SHIELD Safehouse – Briefing Room

In a dimly lit room, the Avengers gathered around a holographic display. The glowing projection detailed the labyrinthine layout of the AIM facility, highlighting weak points, security measures, and the target: a secure lab buried deep within the structure.

Nick Fury stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding attention. “This is it. AIM’s latest science fair project. If we don’t shut it down, we’re looking at something worse than just enhanced soldiers. Think global chaos on a scale you don’t want to imagine.” He scanned the room, his tone brooking no argument. “Infiltrate, secure the data, and get out. Clean and simple. Stick to the plan, and no heroics. Got it?”

The room murmured in acknowledgment, though the air was thick with tension.

The Avengers

Bruce Banner stood off to the side, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he studied the map. “Do we know what—or who—they’re testing this on? If it’s soldiers enhanced with Extremis, that’s bad enough. But if it’s worse…”

Fury’s expression darkened. “Intel’s patchy. AIM’s keeping this under tight wraps. Expect the unexpected and plan for the worst.”

Spider-Man fidgeted nearby, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Okay, but what’s the plan if—hypothetically—there’s a gamma-powered rage monster waiting for us inside? Asking for a friend.”

Fury shot him a withering look. “Stick to the plan, Parker. You start freelancing, and you’re on your own.”

Wolverine, leaning against the wall with a toothpick in his mouth, let his claws slide out with a soft snikt. “Plan’s fine. Just don’t expect me to stay quiet if things go sideways.”

“Can you ever stay quiet?” Spider-Man quipped.

“Keep talkin’, kid,” Logan growled. “See where that gets ya.”

Daredevil, near the window, remained calm, his senses already tuned to the tension in the room. “We need precision. One wrong move, and we’re trapped. Let’s stick to Fury’s orders and keep this efficient.”

On the far side of the room, Ghost Rider stood motionless, his presence both unsettling and reassuring. The faint glow of his flaming skull illuminated the shadows around him, his silence speaking volumes.

The Avengers dispersed to finalize their preparations. Spider-Man tested his webs, flicking strands at a nearby coffee cup. One hit the mark, sending the cup flying.

“Oops!” he called out sheepishly.

Logan caught it effortlessly with his claws, scowling. “Kid, you do that again, and I’m webbin’ you to the wall.”

Spider-Man grinned under his mask. “You’d miss me.”

Banner was packing his equipment when Spider-Man sidled over. “Hey, Doc. You good? You’ve got that ‘I just realized I left the stove on’ look.”

“I’m fine,” Banner replied quietly, though the weight in his voice betrayed him. “There’s a lot riding on this.”

Spider-Man gave a casual shrug. “No pressure, right? It’s just the fate of the world. Piece of cake.”

Banner managed a thin smile. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

Fury clapped his hands sharply, cutting through the chatter. “Listen up. We move out in five. Gear up, stay sharp, and remember—this isn’t just another mission. If AIM pulls this off, it’s game over for all of us. Don’t let that happen.”

The Avengers exchanged glances, a mix of resolve and unease on their faces. As they filed out of the room, Logan muttered to Daredevil, “Bet you ten bucks the kid screws up first.”

“Not taking that bet,” Daredevil replied with a smirk.

Spider-Man, already at the door, called back over his shoulder. “You guys do realize I can hear you, right?”

Logan chuckled darkly. “That’s the idea, bub.”

Banner followed last, his mind heavy with the implications of what they might find. As they stepped into the night, heading toward AIM’s fortress, the Avengers moved as one—an unlikely collection of heroes united by a shared purpose.

The storm was coming. All they could do now was meet it head-on.

Infiltration – The AIM Lab

The team slipped through the shadows under the cover of night, their silhouettes blending into the industrial sprawl of the AIM compound. Automated defenses scanned the perimeter, their cold red lights sweeping the dark, but the group moved with calculated precision—well, most of them did.

Spider-Man darted ahead, bounding across rooftops and weaving through blind spots with ease. He whispered through the comms, his tone light but tinged with his usual nervous energy. “Alright, we’re inside. By the way, AIM’s security? Not exactly Fort Knox. You’d think after the whole ‘mad scientist’ with a super serum thing, they’d at least upgrade.”

Fury’s voice came through sharp and direct. “Less commentary, Parker. Stick to the mission.”

“Got it, boss,” Spider-Man muttered, firing a web to anchor himself to the next building. Unfortunately, his webbing snagged a sensor panel he hadn’t noticed, yanking it clean off and triggering a blaring alarm. The sharp noise pierced the night, and Spider-Man froze. “Uh… so that’s on me.”

Logan’s growl rumbled through the comms. “Nice going, kid. Real stealthy.”

“Yeah, my bad. I’ll just—uh—stay out of everyone’s way now,” Spider-Man whispered, cringing.

Daredevil reacted instantly, using his heightened senses to pinpoint incoming guards. He dashed into the building with quiet precision, taking down the first wave of responders with expertly placed strikes. “We’re compromised, but we can still salvage this. Move fast,” he ordered through the comms.

Ghost Rider, however, had no patience for subtlety. Flames erupted from his body as he marched toward the nearest entrance, incinerating a guard with a swipe of his fiery chain. The burst of light and heat lit up the compound, drawing more attention to their position.

“Subtle, Ghost Rider,” Daredevil muttered, his voice tight with frustration.

The compound erupted into chaos as AIM’s defenses came alive. Turrets turned toward the team, and drones buzzed overhead, scanning for targets. Logan charged forward, his claws gleaming in the firelight, slicing through the first wave of guards. Spider-Man swung through the fray, webbing up turrets and knocking out drones, but his unpredictability threw off the others’ careful coordination.

“Parker, stay in your lane!” Fury barked over the comms.

Banner hung back, visibly tense as his breathing grew heavier. He clutched the portable data retrieval device, his fingers trembling as he glanced nervously at the explosions and gunfire around him. The fear of losing control—of letting the Hulk loose—paralyzed him.

Ghost Rider was in his element, but his patience with the group’s disarray was waning. He ripped through a line of guards with a whip of his chain, his burning skull turning to face the others. “This is a mess,” he snarled. “You call this a team?”

Just then, an explosion rocked the facility. One of AIM’s experimental containment chambers ruptured, spewing fire and debris into the halls. From the smoke emerged twisted figures—AIM’s test subjects—humans warped by unstable enhancements, their bodies flickering with energy and rage.

The team shifted focus to the new threat. Logan charged one of the test subjects, claws slashing, while Daredevil used his billy clubs to deftly disarm another. Spider-Man swung low, tripping one of the enhanced figures with a webline, but the chaos was relentless.

“This is spiraling out of control!” Banner yelled, ducking behind cover as an energy blast scorched the wall near him.

“Everyone, fall back!” Fury ordered through the comms. “We’ve got what we came for—the data is secure. Get out now!”

But Ghost Rider, standing amid the carnage, was done. His flames burned hotter, reflecting his fury as he slashed through the last of the test subjects in his path. He turned toward the others, his voice a guttural roar. “This isn’t a mission—it’s a circus. You’re all stumbling over each other, and I’m not sticking around for this.”

“Ghost Rider, we need you!” Spider-Man shouted, swinging toward him. “Come on, man, we can still—”

The Rider’s flaming skull twisted toward Spider-Man, the fire in his eyes flaring brighter. “No. You can’t even handle one mission without screwing it up. This isn’t my fight anymore.”

With a final crack of his chain, Ghost Rider slammed it into the ground, sending a shockwave of fire through the hall. The flames roared as he stalked away, leaving behind only scorched metal and the acrid smell of burnt air. Moments later, he was gone, disappearing into the night like a wraith.

The rest of the team regrouped outside, battered and shaken. Fury’s voice crackled through the comms, cold and clipped. “We got the data, but that was sloppy. We’ll debrief later. For now, get out of there.”

As the quinjet roared overhead to extract them, Spider-Man sat on a rooftop, staring after the trail of fire Ghost Rider had left behind. “Well, that could’ve gone better,” he muttered to himself, the sting of failure settling in.

SHIELD HQ – Post-Mission

The debriefing room was suffused with a heavy silence as the team gathered around the central table. Most of them avoided each other’s eyes, their post-mission bruises a reflection of their fractured teamwork. Fury stood at the head of the room, arms crossed, his face a mask of restrained anger. The holodisplay behind him projected schematics of AIM’s facility, along with fragments of the data they had managed to retrieve.

He didn’t waste time. “We got the data. But we lost someone in the process. Ghost Rider’s gone, and not just physically—he walked because this team couldn’t hold it together. That mission was a disaster. And the reason? You didn’t act like a team. No coordination, no trust, no discipline.” Fury’s voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air. “We’re lucky nobody else died out there.”

Spider-Man shifted uncomfortably, his mask pulled up just enough to reveal his mouth, which was pressed into a nervous line. “It’s on me,” he said, his voice tinged with guilt. “I messed up. I triggered the alarm. Tried to make things… I don’t know, lighter. Guess I wasn’t taking it seriously enough.”

Banner, leaning against a corner, raised his head from where he’d been staring at the floor. “It wasn’t just you, Peter,” he said quietly, rubbing his temples. “We were all out of sync. Nobody’s blameless. We each carry some of this.”

Logan, still leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, let out a low grunt. His claws retracted with a metallic snikt. “Doesn’t matter who started it. What matters is that it happened. And it’ll keep happening unless we figure this out. Next time, we’re not walking away this lucky.”

Daredevil, sitting with his head bowed and hands steepled, finally broke his silence. His tone was calm but firm. “Logan’s right. We’ve all got our own baggage, but it’s not about being perfect. It’s about trusting the person next to you. If we can’t do that, then we’ll never win, no matter how much firepower we throw at AIM.”

Fury glanced at Daredevil, giving a slight nod before turning his focus back to the team as a whole. “We don’t have the luxury of time for a trial-and-error approach,” he said, his tone softening but not losing its edge. “AIM is on the brink of perfecting something that could tip the balance—something that doesn’t just make super soldiers but destabilizes the entire playing field. That’s what we’re up against. And if you don’t pull together, next time there won’t be a debriefing.”

A heavy silence hung over the room as the weight of Fury’s words sank in.

Spider-Man finally spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I can do better. I’ll do better. I just… I want to help.”

Logan snorted but gave a begrudging nod. “You’re not bad, kid. You’ve got heart. Just need to figure out how to keep your mouth shut when it counts.”

Banner looked around the room, his voice firmer now. “We’re not just a group of people thrown together. If we’re going to do this, we have to act like a team. That means being accountable. Being ready to rely on each other. And yeah, sometimes, that means trusting someone to catch you when you fall.”

Fury straightened, the hard edge of his expression softening—slightly. “You’ve got the tools. You’ve got the brains, the skills, and the strength. But tools don’t build a house. You do that by working together. You’ve got one more chance to prove you can do that. AIM won’t wait for us to get our act together, so use the time wisely.”

With that, Fury gestured toward the door. “Dismissed. Get some rest. We’re regrouping tomorrow morning.”

As the team filed out, the tension had lessened, replaced by a quiet determination. Spider-Man lingered, glancing at Banner as they walked side by side.

“Hey,” Peter said hesitantly. “Do you think… do you think Ghost Rider’s right? That we’re not cut out for this?”

Banner gave a tired smile. “I think he’s angry. But anger fades. We just need to show him—and ourselves—that we are cut out for this.”

Peter nodded, the spark of determination returning to his eyes. “Alright, then. Time to step up.”

The halls of SHIELD HQ echoed with their footsteps as they headed toward a new day, knowing the battles ahead demanded more than just power—they demanded unity.

Close to the City

The cliff overlooked the sprawling cityscape, its lights a shimmering sea against the inky black of the night. The sound of distant traffic carried faintly on the wind, but Ghost Rider paid it no mind. He stood motionless at the edge, his skeletal frame outlined by the flickering flames that licked and curled around his form. The fire danced with an almost hypnotic rhythm, casting ominous shadows on the rocky ground.

His voice broke the silence, low and gravelly, tinged with a frustration that burned hotter than the flames that consumed him. “You think you’ve got problems?” he muttered to no one, the words rasping into the night. “I’ve seen what happens when people like us can’t get it together. The cost’s too high, and I’m not sticking around to watch it happen again.”

The Rider’s bony fingers clenched around the handlebars of his motorcycle, the chrome reflecting the fiery glow of his skull. The engine roared to life, snarling like a beast straining against a leash.

He looked out at the city one last time, his empty eye sockets seeming to pierce through the darkness. His voice softened, almost regretful. “Fix yourselves, or you’ll end up like everyone else I’ve left behind. And next time, don’t call me. I won’t answer.”

With a twist of his wrist, the motorcycle surged forward, flames erupting from the tires as it tore across the rocky terrain. The ground hissed and smoldered in his wake, leaving behind a scorched path that led nowhere.

As Ghost Rider sped away, the night seemed to swallow him whole, his fiery aura disappearing into the shadows. The cliff was silent again, the only sign he had been there the faint scent of burning rock and the lingering echo of his engine’s roar.

Above the city, a faint wisp of smoke curled into the sky, a testament to a man—or a spirit—choosing to walk his path alone.

TO BE CONTINUED...