Chapter 1
Nick Fury watched the man in the interrogation room through the one-way mirror. Twelve hours ago the Avengers had assembled for the first time to defend New York from an alien invasion. Halfway through the battle, a giant ten-foot tall black wolf had joined the fight. The Avengers were a bit wary at first, but the wolf had turned out to be an asset.
The wolf had proved itself when it had jumped into the air and bit down on one of the Leviathan's throat; not only piercing the heavy armor but actually killing the giant space creature. Then Iron Man had taken the missile through the wormhole when the wolf had proved itself to be not only a decent warrior but an ally. Iron Man had fallen back through the tear in space and the wolf had been the one to leap from the top of a skyscraper and catch the man in its jaws.
With the battle over and Loki captured, the wolf had shifted, leaving a naked man behind.
And what had the Avengers done when faced with an actual fucking werewolf? Gave him some pants and a shirt and took him out for shawarma.
Which was were S.H.E.I.L.D had intercepted them. The man had been willing to go, so long as he was able to finish his food.
With an unnatural amount of shawarma eaten, the werewolf had silently boarded a quinjet and sat down in interrogation.
Where he had been for seven hours and not said a word. The wolf turned man simply sat there and smoked, ignoring every agent sent to question him.
Fury glared through the glass and growled. The man's eyes focused on Fury, somehow locking eyes even through the one-way mirror, and gave a much more impressive growl in response.
He needed back up.
Steve Rogers wasn't very happy about this, but Director Fury was adamant that he be the one to interrogate the man. Steve felt uncomfortable grilling someone who had been helping him not twenty-four hours ago. The door opened and the smell of cigarette smoke wafted into his face. The werewolf was sitting at a table, an ashtray full of what must have been an entire pack of cigarettes.
Steve stepped in and eyed the current smoke in the man's hand.
"Do you mind putting that out? I used to have asthma and am a little paranoid."
The man smiled as Steve sat down, putting the cigarette out in the ashtray.
"No problem."
"Thank you. My name is Steve Rogers."
"Yeah, I know. Captain America. I saw you when I served."
"Oh, do they still show those stupid videos at recruitment?"
The man huffed a laugh.
"No. I was in the 1st Infantry Division, 16th Regiment. I saw you around occasionally."
Steve stared at the man, unsure if he was making a joke.
"You. . . are you saying you served in World War Two?"
"Yep. World War Two, the Great War, and the Civil War. Vietnam and Afghanistan too."
"I'm sorry Mr-"
"Bigby Wolf. Just call me Bigby."
"Bigby. Just how old are you?"
"Six-hundred and thirty-one. No, wait. Six-hundred and thirty-two."
Steve sat back in his chair and stared at the man. 632 years old. He didn't look a day over 30. Now a single grey among his shaggy brown hair.
"That's. . . wow. Is it because you're a werewolf?"
Bigby shrugged and scratched at the stubble on his chin.
"Sorta. I've only been a werewolf for about two-hundred years. Give or take ten years. Didn't keep track that much back then."
"So. . . how did you live the other six-hundred years? Are you a mutant?"
"No. I'm not sure if I can tell you what I am, I'll have to ask my boss first."
Steve nodded and stood up.
"Well, not much else I can ask you until then. Come on, at Tony's treating the team to lunch. Figured since you fought with us that kinda makes you a part of the team."
Bigby stood and followed Steve to the door. The door was opened and Director Fury was on the other side. Steve stepped back as Fury jabbed him in the chest with his finger.
"That wolf is not going anywhere until he tells us everything. He could be a danger and we will keep him locked up until we know more."
Steve frowned down at the man, Bigby peeking around his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at Fury.
"Director, with all due respect, Bigby hasn't shown to be dangerous to us. He helped us in the fight yesterday and saved Stark's life. We all talked this morning and we agreed: Bigby is with us."
Steve and Fury stared each other down before the Director sighed. He handed Bigby a card.
"Call us after you've talked to your boss. If we haven't heard from you in seventy-two hours, we're coming after you."
Bigby took the card and followed Steve out, throwing a sloppy two fingers salute back at the Director.
Fury sighed and made for medical. He had an agent to check on.