Iron Before Steel

Strange Visitor: Iron Before Steel

Chapter 8 – Unexpected Progress

September 3^rd, 2009 – Washington, DC.

SHIELD Headquarters – The Triskelion

“You’re joking, right?” Sam Keonig looked at the two men he’d asked the question of and kept on talking after he received no response. “And you both consider yourselves gamers? That’s pathetic.” The short agent laughed loudly.

Leo Fitz looked over at John Economos and shrugged.

“World War Two shooters are overdone. How many have there been just in the last four or five years? It got boring,” Fitz explained.

Economos gave his explanation. “I mostly play sports games. My eyesight isn’t the greatest, so playing games online against human players strains them to the point of giving me a headache.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And I’ve been told I might have a bit of an anger issue when 10-year-olds start talking smack to me online.”

Fitz hid a smile at that, while Sam didn’t bother as he laughed uproariously at that fact.

“Oh my god! You were the kid who threw his controller against the wall when he missed a jump on Mario, weren’t you? How often did you have to ask Mom and Dad for a new one on your birthday or Christmas? Four, for me.” Sam smiled as he raised four fingers on one hand, looking at his fellow SHIELD employees as the three hung out in the Bullpen on the Triskelion command center floor. Fitz looked over at John like a guilty puppy that had been caught peeing on the rug and raised a single finger. Economos raised six fingers of his own, to Sam’s delight.

The lights were low, as it was well after official building hours. There was constantly some agent/analyst presence on call. Terrorism and international smuggling rings didn’t call it a day; it was always nine o’clock somewhere.

They were currently the only three on the main operations floor, as the only SHIELD operations underway across the globe were either being run from the smaller conference room setups or weren’t officially happening at all and officially being the operative term there.

Most of the computer screens were black from being powered down. A few were set to news broadcasts from across the globe, but for the most part, it was ‘Miller Time’ as far as SHIELD’s headquarters was concerned. The global fight for freedom and security was slow on Tuesday.

Koenig picked up where he had left off.

“Well, Call of Duty 4 switched it up. They moved into the modern age, and it's like one of the best video games ever made, guys! You gotta give it a try. The sequel comes out in a couple of months. We need to get you two up to speed. My brother and I play it like crazy. We can squad up once it comes out.”

Economos chimed in with a question of his own.

“Wait a minute, was this the series where you could unlock that level where you could play as Captain-”

“Yes! Steve Rogers! Once you unlock that level, you can replay the game as Captain America through all levels. That was Call of Duty 2! The Normandy level. It was nuts!” Koenig laughed again as the other two nodded. “I heard that Fury caught Coulson playing that one in the New York office when it came out. They were in the middle of that Espinoza Cartel thing, the one with the Hulk?”

Fitz coughed before interjecting.

“Actually, it was a week after that incident. I was working on that case. By the time we arrived, the Hulk was long gone, and Ross had sent a team in on our heels. There was nothing but wreckage and bodies left on the scene. It was awful. After that, Fury gave us all two weeks to decompress; even Coulson took him up. It was that bad.”

Koenig could only stare in surprise while Economos gave a long, low whistle in reply.

“Wow. I mean, Coulson doesn’t come off as some super-hard action movie character or anything, but you can tell he has seen some stuff. I can’t imagine him needing a week off like that.”

Fitz just shook his head. “Yeah. I had to see one of the SHIELD therapists for a few sessions to process it. I don’t know if Coulson went that far, but he was as shaken by the carnage as the rest of us. I’m glad Gemma wasn’t on site. She said it was horrible enough on screen.”

Keonig could only agree. “No kidding. You stay here long enough, John, and you’ll see something like that too. It’s part of what we sign up for - the strange and unusual right alongside the gruesome and brutal. You gotta find something to help get your mind off the job after hours. Hence, gaming!”

Economos shrugged. “Well, like I said, I do some games online, but not so much on the competitive side. I'm more into board games. I’ve been running a monthly D&D group since 1991. We manage to play more than 90% of our appointments. It's unheard of.”

“Never really cared for board games on my end. I did play Battleship with my cousins at family gatherings,” Fitz offered.

Koenig barked out another laugh. “Battleship! Oh man, does that take me back? My brothers hated playing with me when we were kids. We played all the time.”

“Why did they keep playing a game they hated with you?” Fitz asked in confusion.

“Oh, easy. It’s because they couldn’t beat me. I always won, and it drove them crazy! They only kept playing because they needed to beat me.”

Economos now looked at Sam with interest. “That game is just chance for the most part. There’s some strategy, grid search patterns, and whatnot, but it usually boils down to luck where they guess. Well, unless your opponent is cheating…”

Same responded without a second’s hesitation with a smile. “I cheated. Constantly. It was hilarious. They couldn’t figure it out, and they couldn’t catch me. We had a rule where only the brothers playing could be in the room - you know, so the others wouldn’t help cheat for one of us? They weren’t ever able to catch me cheating because of that.” Koenig’s laughter increased as he appeared to lose himself in the memories.

Economos was still curious, though. “Interesting choice of recruitment tactics, telling us you always cheat at games. Grateful I found that out now, just so you know. I do have to ask, how did you cheat so that they didn’t ever find you out?”

Sam smiled. “How does anyone ever cheat at Battleship? I kept track of their guesses and marked the displacement spots on the board so I could move my ships around for as long as possible! I wouldn’t mark it physically like most amateurs do. I have a good enough memory to keep track of the misses in my head. Then, it was just a matter of using a standard grid search with my guesses while I assumed that my brothers were doing the same thing. Math always wins, my friends. Never underestimate it.”

Fitz blinked before asking, “Have you ever tried using that at the tables in Las Vegas? Counting cards isn’t illegal if you do it in your head.”

Sam shook his head. “Nope. Too afraid. I'm four and a half feet tall and about as hard as unbaked cookie dough. They’d kick my ass, and I’m not stupid enough to walk into that willingly.”

Fitz smiled as he slowly shook his head in disbelief. “Come on, man! You’re a SHIELD agent. You just got done telling us how you’ve seen things that would make military special operators quake in their boots. You’d let casino security intimidate you out of the chance of making off with a fortune in legal gambling winnings?”

“Yup. Getting punched hurts. A lot. Not for me. I’ve always found it important to recognize your limitations. Not all of us can be giants like John over there.” Sam looked at Economos, who was now staring off into the space between the other two SHIELD agents in the room, apparently lost in thought.

“Hello, earth to Economos? You still with us, big guy?”

John’s eyes snapped over to Koenig’s face, breaking him out of whatever spell he’d been under.

“Holy shit. You just gave me an incredible idea of how we might be able to track him!”

Fitz and Koenig shared a look before Fitz replied. “Track who?”

“Who the hell do you think? Who has Fury had our entire team spending hundreds and thousands of hours trying to find a shred of evidence for the past fifteen months? The Marvel! We gotta go see Fury right now! Here’s what I’m thinking...”

____________________________________________

Fury sat behind his desk, eyebrow raised above a face that was telling the three men opposite him to hurry the fuck up – there’s shit to do, and Nick Fury doesn’t waste time. Which, of course, wasn't true at all. Nick Fury wasted time like any other mortal man. For example, every morning while enjoying his first cup of coffee in the Triskelion’s cafe, Fury would spend at least fifteen minutes scrolling through his new KordTech Kordless 2 smartphone. Everyone knew not to interrupt the Director’s morning cup of coffee – it was when he caught up on the previous night's events.

It wasn’t.

He was looking at cat pictures on the internet, which was part of his morning self-care routine and, therefore, of the utmost importance to the security of the free world.

And no one else’s damn business.

Fury let people think what they will because it was often too much effort to correct them, and almost always suited his own purposes anyway. And right now, he was letting these three chuckleheads, who’d interrupted his evening routine just before he escaped the office, think that he was just about finished with their foolishness and going to throw them out of the window if they didn’t hurry up and get on with it.

Which he was.

Economos finally got over himself and spoke. “The three of us were talking downstairs just a few minutes ago, and Sam used a word that gave me a great idea of how we can-”

“What were you talking about?”

Economos looked like a deer caught on the highway as an eighteen-wheeler was bearing down on it.

“Uh… well, it doesn’t matter, it was just the word he used in conjunction-”

“I’ll be the one to decide what does and does not matter around here, Mr. Economos, if you please.”

“Oh, right. Of course, I didn’t mean… it was…” John Economos sputtered out, obviously equally intimidated and surprised by Fury’s want to know. Thankfully, Sam Koenig was long used to the director's style.

“Games, sir. We were discussing some of our recreational habits and how they help us deal with the stresses and psychological demands of the job. Specifically board and video games.”

Fury blinked. That wasn’t what he expected, but it shouldn’t have surprised him.

“You know what, this one’s on me. I set the bar too low. Forget it, and let's jump straight to the point, shall we, gentlemen? Agent Economos, what’s this Eureka! epiphany that you’ve had? And make it quick so we can all get the fuck outta here and go home.”

John Economos finally found the steel in his spine and started speaking.

“Yes, sir. The game Battleship came up, and Sam used the word displacement. That got me thinking about the displacement waves of water, which made me think about the same thing regarding sound waves.”

Economos flipped on the screen in Fury’s office, bringing up an image of the western hemisphere.

“The NOAA, National Oceanic, and Atmospheric Administration has a system of buoys that they use to track weather events across the globe, sir.” Economos pushed a button on the remote in his hand, and dozens, maybe hundreds, of little indicators popped up on the map across the water portions of the map. “They provide real-time data of varying types directly to NOAA headquarters here in Washington. It’s one of the ways that natural disasters like typhoons, earthquakes, and tsunamis can be tracked and populations given some measure of warning. It’s that last one that gave me an idea – tsunamis.”

Fury cocked his head, not quite sure where his excitable agent was going now.

“Waves, sir. These buoys track waves. The movement of the waters themselves. Some of the sensors on those buoys are so sensitive that they even pick up the movement caused by artificial waves created by the water displacement of ships moving through the area. Their wakes.” Economos was starting to smile widely now, and a quick look at Koenig and Fitz showed they were also pleased.

Fury still wasn’t getting the connection, though.

“Okay, so we can track waves in the ocean. Mind telling me what the fuck we are supposed to do with that ability? Last I checked, we aren't looking for anyone to talk to fish or surf on dolphin-back. ”

Economos picked up where he had left off immediately.

“No, sir. It’s not water waves that I’m interested in; it's sound waves.”

Fury again raised an eyebrow, telling the man to get on with it.

“We know the Marvel is moving across the country regularly now, maybe across the globe for all we know. To do that, he must move faster than sound, sir. He’s breaking the sonic barrier.”

Fury nodded as the picture finally started to come into focus. “Yeah, and I’m getting a lot of complaints about how I’m going to stop him. Those sonic booms are a nuisance, hence why the Air Force stopped all but the most essential supersonic flights over land years ago.”

“Right! But he’s not doing it all the time. Like you said, it seems like he’s only going supersonic when he absolutely needs to. When there’s an emergency. Well, just like those NOAA buoys detecting waves in the oceans, we think we can rig up something to track the Mach waves across the air when he does break the sound barrier.”

Fury sat at attention and leaned over his desk to rest his arms and elbows on the surface. Now, this was finally some progress.

“Are you telling me you think you can track him?”

The men all looked at each other before Fitz jumped in to answer.

“No, not yet, sir. We don’t have the ‘buoys’ that we would need to determine the location and direction of the Mach waves when they happen. But they shouldn’t be hard to build. I think Gemma and I can mock one up before the week ends. We need another week to test it out and iron out any problems, and then we would need one or two weeks more to have SHIELD Tech and Research Labs pump them out. We can ship them across the country in about a month.”

Economos jumped back in at that. “And we have the perfect places to put them. The National Weather Service has dozens of antennas in every state. We can attach our sensor to each one of these stations, and we will effectively have created a web of sound sensors from coast to coast. Every time he creates a Mach wave after that, it will signal us where he was, how fast, and in what direction he was moving.”

Fury cracked a smile then as he leaned back in his chair.

Koenig continued. “And with all that data will come patterns. We will see what locations he’s going to more than once, and with enough time, we should be able to narrow down where he’s leaving from. We can locate his home base.”

Today was a good day, Nick Fury decided. He would reward himself with a beer and some extra internet cat videos tonight once he cleared the chuckleheads out of his office.

He still had a reputation to maintain.

____________________________________________

September 12th, 2009 - Clark Kent’s Residence

Brooklyn, New York

Clark hammered away at the keyboard of his laptop.

He felt pretty good about his newest book now. It should be ready to turn over to Joe and Jerry by the start of next week, just a few days away. It was pretty close to his original draft, but there were a few changes, primarily due to where he ended up taking the story from before. He was able to iron out some inconsistencies in the plot this time around. It would save him some headaches in the future with fans who like to nitpick every little story detail and plot hole.

He would know. He’d been one of them as a nerdy youth.

Clark was an excellent typist, so there was no trouble at all banging out his rough and first drafts. With his Kryptonian speed, he was basically restricted by the computer's hardware to how fast he could type his stories. His alien brain was also beneficial when it came to spellchecking and editing too!

Thank heaven for small miracles.

Clark laughed softly as he finished off another 15 pages in the time it took someone to walk across a medium-sized room.

He promised himself that as soon as this book was finished and turned over to his publishers to carry the rest of the way, he would head back to Metropolis to spend some time with Ma and Kara. The little scamp had discovered hide and seek now, and it was running his mother ragged.

To her utmost delight, she gleefully admitted to him on his last call with her the night before.

Kara had spoken to him over the phone, as well, in full English sentences. She was still a tiny ball of atomic blonde energy, but she was learning so quickly it almost scared him. He wondered if his development had been so fast. His mother hinted that it had been, but Kara seemed a touch quicker on the uptake than he had been.

Clark knew from the moment he saw the helpless child in her little ship that he would need to be responsible for her. He hadn’t ever planned to be a father but had found that the role (even somewhat part-time as it was at the moment) was far more rewarding than he’d feared.

Every trip home to see her and Ma was a little bit easier. The girl was a tiny ball of sunshine, or starlight, as he’d nicknamed her. She brightened up the house back on the farm, bringing a spark of joy and fun that had been gone since his father’s death and Clark’s departure. He was less worried about his mother’s emotional state and isolation and was now just concerned that she wouldn’t be able to keep up with the child.

So, more trips home were the easiest solution. He was split now on which house was more his home. When he moved to New York, he’d done so with the expectation that it would become his home by default. Over time, it was meant to be the first place he thought of instead of the farm or Chicago. Kara’s appearance made that more difficult.

A man could have two homes. If anyone could understand the situation of being pulled between two worlds, it would be Clark.

He would adapt.

It did make him think of the advantages of having Kara here in New York, eventually. He'd already shown that the small public school system back in Illinois was more than adequate, but the high-end private schools that he would have access to and funds for here in the city would give Kara advantages that she’d have to work hard to equal on her own. She would also have her own unique advantages, and nothing on Earth could match that. It still might make sense for him to move her here once she gets closer to school age.

Clark made a note on his phone to start researching potential schools for children in Brooklyn and the larger metropolitan area.

There was also Xavier’s school. Kara wasn’t a mutant but would fit in far better in Westchester than anywhere else. It was the one place she wouldn’t have to hide who she was or what she was, even if she would still technically be different from those around her.

He’d have to chat about the possibility with Lana before anyone else. They might not be willing to host her since she wasn’t a mutant. He couldn’t assume that possibility before testing the waters first.

If he did decide to move her here in several years, then Ma would definitely come along as well. There would be plenty of room in the house here, with four large bedrooms in addition to the basement. He was already considering remodeling that into a separate apartment floor for Pete if he was interested in hanging around for a longer time than they initially discussed.

There were many plans to discuss with his friends and family. Many different paths lay ahead – depending on how the larger events would play out in the years to come.

The doorbell chime interrupted Clark’s musings, along with Pete’s yelled, ‘I got it!’. He went back to typing, knowing that Pete would call him down if the visitor were here for something he needed to deal with personally.

“Yo, CK! Get your ass down here, man! Double-time!!”

Just like that.

Clark saved his progress on the laptop with a click, then closed and set the computer aside at his work desk. At this point, he’d done plenty of work for the day and could wrap up the rest tomorrow anyway without much trouble – well ahead of his Monday deadline.

He walked out of his room into the hallway. His room was at the end of this hall, which opened halfway across the floor onto an open balcony that looked down on the living room below and the front door. Once he reached the balcony, he glanced down at the door. Clark could see Pete talking with a man standing next to him in a dark jacket and baseball hat whose lower jaw was covered by a dark beard. Dark brown or black hair peeked out from under the cap.

That wasn’t what grabbed his attention the most, though. The fact that Kelex was hovering nearby, out in the open, almost gave Clark a heart attack right there. Maybe. Clark wasn’t sure how likely it was for him to have a heart attack. Still, it was a moment of panic.

Then Pete saw him on the hall walkway and called up again.

“Look who’s home, CK! Our boy got the all-clear from Lana and her friends!”

James Barnes looked up at Clark from under his hat and behind his beard and gave a whole, human smile for maybe the first time Clark could recall. It wasn’t a smirk or a half-grin. A toothy smile met Clark’s gaze, and he was shocked for the second time in about as many seconds!

He’s back? Already! Good Lord, didn’t it take them a year or more in Wakanda to get his head straight?

Barnes’ voice grabbed Clark’s attention. “Only time I ever saw a man look that stunned was when Stevie and I snuck into Yankee Stadium to watch Louis and Schmelling’s rematch back in '38.”

Clark laughed and jumped down the stairs to grab Barnes in a bear hug, quickly lifting the man into the air. He set Bucky back down again and looked him over.

“Holy smokes, you’re back! Did you sneak out? Did they throw you out, or did they do it?”

Another pair of arms hooked around both of their necks. They found Pete pulling the three of them into a hug of his own. Barnes promptly snorted and pushed Pete back.

“What are you doing, Pegleg? I knew you’d miss me, but you ain’t exactly my type, you know?”

“I’m everyone’s type, for the record. But I hate being left out of hugs. Tell him, CK.”

“It’s true, he does. Lana used to stomp on his toes to get him to let go, but hugs were always in threes with us. No exceptions.”

Bucky laughed again, sounding like any other man in his twenties or thirties catching up with his friends.

“Yeah, well, they gave me a clean bill of health. Hydra is officially out of my head. Once and for all, if I have anything to say about it.”

“That’s incredible!” Clark exclaimed. He pointed to the couch for everyone to sit on to discuss Barnes’ return more comfortably.

Kelex added her congratulations as they sat. “That is excellent news, James Barnes. I hope you will not take offense if I stay in alert mode, though, for the moment, considering the events of that evening before your departure to Westchester County.”

Bucky didn’t flinch. “Nope. That’s a solid stance to take, doll. I don’t blame you one bit. Always prepared is a fine motto for a reason.” The little droid gracefully bowed in return and floated over near the kitchen doorway. There really wasn’t any reason for her to remain with Clark in the room but she was allowed near complete autonomy in the house – Clark saw no reason to deny her concerns.

Pete started up next. “So, it’s official then? You’ve got your head back, for real? What about the memories? You seem pretty… I dunno, normal now, I guess I’d say. Like you’re just a dude like everyone else.” Clark leaned forward from his spot at the L on the sofa and listened.

“Yeah. The Professor and a couple of his students have spent the last three months going through my head. They were able to isolate all of my memories from Hydra’s torture and conditioning. I’m no headshrinker, so I’m not gonna bother trying to explain it like they did, but they worked on piecing my head back together. Kind of like suturing up a wound, Emma said. Over time, and with some help, it can stitch itself back together and heal. They just had to get the stuff Hydra did to me out of the way so it could do its thing.”

Clark nodded. He couldn’t imagine going through what Barnes had over the decades. Most of his time was spent frozen and asleep, but the moments of clarity between the ‘conditioning’ must have been awful.

“I can remember pretty much everything now, from before the train. Before I fell.”

Pete acknowledged that, but his frown indicated another question was coming. “And after. After the brainwashing, or whatever you want to call it.”

Buck was silent then. His eyes lost focus for a moment, and Clark suspected he remembered much more than he would have liked if it was up to him.

“Yeah. I remember all that, too.”

Clark looked on in sympathy as Pete spoke.

“So… all the stuff they had you doing over the years…”

“All of it. I remember everything I did.”

Silence ran through the room briefly as that heavy admission sank in. Clark decided to break it since he knew what that meant far more than Pete did, at least in the details of what, when, and who.

“There wasn’t anything that they could do to, I don’t know, block some of those memories? Maybe pull them out of your head so you don't remember?”

Bucky shook his head. “I told them I didn’t want that. I need to remember. I have to. I owe it to all the people I… to the victims. They deserve to be remembered. How much it hurts or any sleep I’ll lose over the years is small potatoes to that. Lana thought it might help me heal to talk about it, so she and I talked whenever I could drum up the courage.” He looked down at his shoes now; his gaze focused there and away from any judgment that might be hiding in the eyes of his friends.

Clark didn’t think he would find any.

“Yeah, she was always a good listener,” Pete offered with a small smile. “Elle was always good at getting us out of our funks whenever we got into one growing up. And by our, I mean this big lug over here. He was a brooder when we were little.” The solemnity of the moment was gone then as Pete laughed as he swiped at Clark’s arm from the seat nearby.

Clark tsked in return and chattered back. “I was not! I was a ray of sunshine and a beacon of good vibes, you liar.”

“Please, after you found out you were adopted, you were such a crybaby for a while. I wanted to prank you out of it-”

“You did!”

“but little Miss Lana thought it would be better to talk things out. And you know what, CK? She was right. She had you back to normal in a week, and things went back to how they were supposed to be. So, Bucky, you keep listenin’ to our girl there. She’ll have you right as rain before you know it.”

Clark looked over at the tormented former soldier to find a slight smile on the man’s face as he nodded in agreement.

“You’re not wrong, Slick. But there are a few other things I wanna do, too. To make things right. I want to make it so all those ghosts can rest at some point. Most of all, my own.”

Pete and Clark glanced at each other briefly before they nodded for Barnes to continue.

“At some point, I will make sure their families are okay and then tell them the truth. It’s the only way I can make amends in some way. I don’t expect their forgiveness, but someday I need to get this weight off my chest, and that’s part of the solution, I think.”

“Okay. That will bring up many issues, even without the fact Hydra will still be gunning for their best assassin... ”

Barnes jumped at that. “And that’s another thing. We are taking those bastards down. I don’t know how or when, but the world won’t be safe until Hydra is dismantled once and for all, and the men who did this, if any are left, are dead and buried.”

Pete responded without a pause. “Yo, we already told you, man, we are in it for this. Whatever you need, whatever we can do, we are here to take the bastards down. All for one and shit, ya know!”

Barnes grinned again. “I remember. The Prof and his gals pulled a bunch of names, faces, dates and more out of my head. I’ve got a file now. We’ve got plenty of places to start with that. I think we should head back to Westchester soon to go over things with them there. It felt unsafe to take that kind of information into the world. I’m good at hiding, but that would be asking for trouble.”

Clark couldn’t agree more. Involving Xavier and his X-Men would be a massive boost to their efforts. And he thought that could only make the future a better place. They wouldn’t stay hidden forever, and taking down an international fascist organization that had been hiding in plain sight since the 40s would be a big feather in the cap for mutant-kind when the truth came out.

“I’m here too. Kelex will be happy to help as well, won’t you?”

“Indeed. You may count on my support in whatever way I can assist.”

Barnes' grin got wider for a moment before dying out entirely. The man leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, hands clasped together, as he looked his friends in the eyes then.

“Thanks. I can’t tell you what that means, mostly because I don’t know what it means yet, but there’s one more thing I need to do before anything else.”

Clark waited momentarily as Barnes collected his thoughts and emotions from whatever he was about to reveal or ask.

“I had a lot of free time there in my room, and one of the things I did was catch up on everything I’ve missed over the past sixty years. The world ain’t like it was when I was a kid or fighting our war in Germany. But I know for a fact it wouldn’t have been anything but ashes if it wasn’t for one guy. I had a friend before all that. He died so that the world could win that war. It happened after I went into the snow, so it was tough-” he paused at that, fighting back the tears threatening to spill down his face as he recalled what happened to his unit after his fall.

Clark knew then what was coming next.

“I need your help, Clark. I don’t know how you can do the things you can do - they wouldn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask after the first time. But I know that I need your help. Because I want to go and find my friend Stevie. He died to end that war, and they were never able to bring him home. Will you help me find Steve Rogers so the world can finally lay its greatest hero to rest?”