Protective Custody

Chapter 3: Ash... Like Cinders

Phil-

“I gotta go out,” Tony announced later the same day. It was after they’d all eaten dinner that Tony had appeared in the common room wearing a suit and tie. That was unusual enough to get everyone’s attention. The sight of Tony in a suit was not an everyday occasion, but he was a businessman so there were days when even he had to look like a professional. “Remember that building of mine that that a helicopter crashed into a few days ago? It’s being investigated now, but there’s some complication so I need to go take a look. Shouldn’t take long. I’ll be back.”

And Tony was back, but not until just after 9 am the next morning.

Everyone had finished breakfast, the kitchen was clean. Plans for the day were made and all was well until Tony, looking as put-together as he had when he’d left the tower, stormed in. He walked passed everyone sitting in the common room without a word and went straight for the liquor cabinet. He stood there, tense and unhappy, then turned and went into the kitchen for coffee. He drank two cups, then joined everyone in the common room. He sat in a chair, then stood up and circled the room. He sat, again.

“There are dead people everywhere.”

Everyone stared at Tony for a minute.

Natasha solemnly nodded. “Yes. Is that bad?”

Oh, the thunderous look on Tony’s face was awful. “The fire destroyed a lot, but not everything. A helicopter flew into the side of the building and crashed when it fell to the street below. The pilot was found. But...” Tony swallowed, hard. “The police have been investigating since it happened. There were about twenty men inside, all dressed in some kind of military uniform. They’re all dead.”

Bruce sat back a little further in the overstuffed chair he’d curled up in. “Smoke inhalation or burns?”

“Neither. Bullets. They were shot. Every damned one of them. So,” Tony sprung back up to his feet and began his pacing, again. “Anyone have any idea why twenty men in military uniforms got shot in a building that was under construction the same time a helicopter crashed into it? Anyone? ‘Cause I don’t have any ideas!”

Phil frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but Tony was on a roll and kept talking.

“There’s evidence of a massive gunfight inside - bullets in walls, floors, ceilings, tables, and mostly in bodies. There are an absurd number of guns laying around. I don’t even know who they were fighting. All the bodies found seemed to be wearing the same uniform, but they weren’t wearing any kind of official insignia. If they were U.S. troops, I’ll eat my shoes! The forensic people are trying to figure out where the helicopter came from. They’re looking for some kind of identification, but it’s not much more than a big pile of burned metal.” Tony ran a hand through his hair, making him look rather like a hedgehog. “I think they had a war in my new department store and I really want to know who the other side was. J.A.R.V.I.S., you found anything in local surveillance cameras, yet?”

“No, sir. The helicopter’s crash and explosion seems to have damaged much of the recordings that would have been useful and many other cameras appear to have been deliberately disabled.”

“They’ve got authorities going over the whole place now, collecting bodies and evidence, and trying to figure it all out.” Tony pulled off his necktie and tossed it over the back of the sofa. “I can’t do anything now but wait. God, what a nightmare. I want a drink.”

Phil snapped to attention, though he tried not to show it, but was relieved when Tony walked to the kitchen and got a glass of water. It was hard for Tony, but he was doing so well. ‘The liquor cabinet,’ Phil thought, ‘really should be taken out of the common room.’

“And get this,” Tony returned to them and put his water on the coffee table as he started to pace again. For all the world, he had apparently forgotten that he was thirsty. “We do know one thing - there wasn’t a single bit of identification on any of them. We’re waiting for fingerprints to come back with something.” He paused. “I wonder if it has anything to do with Hydra.”

“Possibly,” Phil said. “I can’t imagine what they’d want with your new building, but maybe the building was targeted simply because it was yours. You are the highest profile member of the Avengers.” Phil sat back in his chair but couldn’t quite relax into the softness. Tony didn’t buy cheap furniture, so the chair was the best to be had. Tony hadn’t really cared about the cost, he’d picked it out because he’d liked the color. It was wonderfully comfortable, but all Phil could focus on was the fact that one of his team might be, once again, in the cross hairs of Hydra. He didn’t like it. His stomach churned, uneasily. He’s was sure he was getting an ulcer and rubbed at his stomach, thoughtlessly. “You said they wore military uniforms?”

“Sort of. There wasn’t anything on the uniforms to identify any of the men as from any particular nation.”

Steve, who had been listening to the radio with Bruce, said, “I think we should be more concerned with who killed them. They’re still out there and if they can do that to soldiers, then who knows what else they’re capable of? Civilians are in danger.”

“Don’t forget the ‘why’.” Clint added in. He sat the fireplace and Phil had thought he’d been napping, but he sounded wide-awake. “Why were all those soldiers at your building in the first place, Tony? Why would there be a battle there? It must have been at night when the construction workers had gone home, so whatever was going on was to be kept secret.”

Natasha flipped a page in her book, never lifting her eyes from the words. “I expect something was wanted. Two groups wanted the same thing and the result is that the dead men left at the construction site lost and whoever killed them got whatever they were battling over.” She flipped another page.

“What could be so important that they’d kill for it?” Bruce asked. He sat on the floor, his feet bare, and pulled his knees up to his chest. “Soldiers are very tough; whoever killed them must be strong. Bold, too. They didn’t care if the bodies were found and might lead back to them.”

Natasha closed her book with a sharp snap and sniffed with disdain. “That is careless. No matter how strong, to leave casualties behind... sloppy. Unprofessional.” Natasha did take her profession very seriously. She was not, Phil had noticed when he’d first started working with Natasha, proud of what she did. She wasn’t ashamed, either. Assassination... information collection... deception... all of it was part of her training and while Natasha had never been overly talkative about what the Red Room had done to her during her training in her childhood, Phil had gathered enough information to understand that the training had been harsh and unforgiving. It was no wonder at all that she was so good at what she did. Despite all that, Natasha seemed to have the philosophy that as she was good at certain things, she might as well put those skills to good use. As her understanding of morality was a bit warped from her training, to Natasha ‘good use’ often became simply whatever Phil or Clint told her it was. It had been an unsettling realization, the first time Phil had come to understand that he had that kind of power. They were only recently beginning to teach her to question orders if they didn’t seem right, but it was an uphill battle.

“Sloppy or not,” Tony slumped down on the sofa, scowling. “I want the mess cleaned up. It’s going to be a real nightmare until we can find out who killed those men and why. Hopefully, the cops will find some clues. More than what they already have, I mean.”

Steve sat up a little straighter. “They have a clue? Well!” His face brightened a little. “That’s something to work with, anyway. What do they have? A fingerprint?”

“A bullet. Remember the helicopter that crashed into the side of the building? Well, the cops managed to pull the pilot’s body out and sent him along to the coroner for an autopsy. Turns out he was shot in the head with a bullet from some kind of ridiculously overpowered rifle. According to the coroner, it was shot from the rooftop of the building across the street from mine.”

“Well,” Steve settled back next to Bruce on the floor by the radio. The radio looked like an antique, one of the big wooden types Steve would have seen in his youth, though Tony had insisted that all the working components were modern and had even assembled them himself. It had been a birthday present for Steve. “I suppose it’s not much of a clue, but it’s better than nothing. I sure hope the police can find whoever did it. I know the soldiers were probably up to no good - I sure can’t think of any respectable reason they’d be up there at night - but it’s possible they were just legitimate servicemen on some mission we weren’t informed about and whoever the enemy was got the better of them. I’d hate to think innocent soldiers would be forever thought of as criminals.”

“Or,” Tony said. “They might have been criminals dressed up like soldiers. Sorry, but I already checked with the military authorities and there’s no record of anything going on around here.”

“Oh,” Steve’s shoulders slumped.

There wasn’t much else to say about it until some more investigation... Phil paused in that thought. “Tony, did you bring home something to research? Did you take evidence?”

Only then did Tony grin like the Cheshire Cat. “No, but I said I’d help when they don’t find anything. Really! As if their equipment can out-perform J.A.R.V.I.S.!”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, sir.”

“No problem.”

It was not much longer after that when Phil left the common room and headed down to the lobby for his daily newspaper. It could have been delivered, of course, but Phil liked taking a little walk everyday. He walked down the many, many stairs and, by the time he went back up to their apartments at the top of the tower, his daily workout would have been nicely started. So, just after noon he walked into the lobby. It was just as lavish as everything else about the tower. The floor was covered in polished marble. A receptionist’s desk sat square in the middle of the large room, facing the glass doors that led out to the street. There were fine paintings on the walls and comfortable seating all around. On the receptionist’s desk sat Phil’s newspaper, as always. He walked straight for it and was just about to take it, when another hand darted out and snatched the newspaper.

The newspaper snatcher was a teenage boy wearing blue jeans with the knees torn open, a hooded sweatshirt that was at least one size too big, and bright red sneakers. He kept his face lowered for a minute, as he studied the headlines of the newspaper, then said, in a familiar voice. “You’ll want to come with me. Max is waiting.” The boy looked up and pulled a pair of sunglasses off his face. Ash. He looked entirely different without his pressed slacks and the bright colored sweater-vest.

“I should tell my people where I’m going.”

Ash re-folded the newspaper and tossed it back on the desk. “That’s gonna be hard since you don’t know where you’re going. Come on.”

Phil might have argued, but he knew well enough that J.A.R.V.I.S. was everywhere in the tower and, therefore, knew exactly what was going on. He would tell the others. So he discretely put a hand in his pocket to reassure himself that he hadn’t forgotten his cell phone and followed Ash out of the building. He hadn’t gone more than three paces before J.A.R.V.I.S. came through and Phil’s cell phone rang. Phil smiled his most reassuring smile when Ash turned at the sound and frowned at him. “Sorry. This will only take a minute.” He stepped a few paces away from Ash, keeping him in sight but far enough away that he wouldn’t be overheard. “Hello.”

Tony answered with, “Are you safe? J.A.R.V.I.S. just said you left with someone he doesn’t know who didn’t want you to talk to us. Clint and Nat are on their way down.”

“Don’t panic. My friend, Max, just sent a messenger to fetch me. I’m going to meet with the witness. He didn’t want to meet at the tower.”

Tony groaned. “Are you telling me that the witness doesn’t trust us? We’re the Avengers! What’s not to trust? I mean - jeeze! - we’ve got Captain America, for goodness sakes! Who’s more trustworthy than that? We’ve got Bruce, the biggest bunny rabbit on the planet. He can’t think we’re going to hurt him.”

“The witness knows the deck is stacked against him, so he’s right to be cautious. Don’t take it personally. Besides, you don’t really want this person in your home any sooner than necessary, do you?”

“Of course not. If he wasn’t so useful, I’d throw all my lawyers at him and get him put behind bars for the rest of his life! I hate that we’re helping someone like this. But I want you to be safe, too. Well, at least Clint and Nat can keep you out of trouble. They should be there soon.”

“They are.” Phil could see them both hovering a distance away, watching. “I have to go before my escort gets antsy. I’ll be safe.”

They started walking again and Ash appeared to be content to be silent. They walked all through the city and it was impossible for Phil to notice how people would stop and stare at Ash. He felt quite invisible. It was mostly teenagers who would stop whatever they were doing the moment they saw Ash and they all watched him with a strange expression that Phil could almost call awe, though it might have been fear.

“Would it be rude for me to ask who you are, exactly?” Phil finally said. Based on their last meeting, he didn’t have much hope of an answer, but figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. “Max said you were his son, but my research shows that he only has one child.”

Ash didn’t look at Phil. “The old man is sentimental.”

“You commanded those boys in the park the other day. They listened to you.”

Ash shrugged, apparently pushing the idea away as unimportant. “You talk a lot. No wonder the old man said you’re his friend. The pair of you just talk, talk, talk.”

“Maybe so. I would like to give you a warning. I’m honestly a little puzzled why Max hasn’t done so already. You should find somewhere else to be for a while. You heard what Max and I were talking about yesterday; this is going to get dangerous. It’s no place for a kid.”

Ash looked at Phil over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes. I strongly suspect you may be part of a gang. I saw the gun you carry and I know those other kids respect you. All the same, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Ash stopped walking and pulled down his sunglasses to get a better look at Phil. He looked like he wanted to laugh. Ash put his sunglasses back up and started walking, again. “Look, I know you’re trying to help, but don’t waste your breath. We’re almost there. Max will explain things.”

They walked through the city and into Chinatown and stopped at a tiny restaurant that looked like a thousand other little restaurants. It had a sign over the front door that read, “Chang Dai Restaurant”. At a glance, there was nothing special about the place. There were a few broken tiles on the floor. One ceiling light wasn’t working. It had ten tables and a counter. There was a young woman there, small and delicate with pixie cut black hair and a serious, almost severe expression. There were only three other people in the restaurant - the young woman, Ash, and Max.

“This is all a bit elaborate isn’t it, Max?” Phil nodded a greeting to the young woman. He looked around, very carefully, but there was no one else and nowhere else the witness could be hiding.

“Can we have a minute, Nadia?” Max asked the young woman. She nodded. Nadia went to the front door and locked it, hanging a ‘closed’ sign in the window before she left the room without a word and Max didn’t speak again until the door closed behind her. “Have a seat, Phil.” He gestured to the table where Ash sat and waited until Phil was seated before he sat, too. Once there, Max rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. Okay. See...” He stopped talking and looked at Ash, then back at Phil. “I trust you, Phil. We served together and I think we knew each other pretty well, but it’s been years, so you’ll understand this isn’t easy. But you were always a good friend, even when things got rough.”

“I hope I’m still a good friend. Let me help. Please. Where is your witness?”

Max smiled. “I told you I’d introduce him, didn’t I?” Max gestured at Ash. “Ash Lynx, meet Philip Coulson. Phil, meet my witness, Ash Lynx. Otherwise known as Aslan J. Callenreese. He’s Griffin’s little brother.”

For a moment, it felt like Phil’s brain froze. Then he took a breath. “Right. Of course. Griff?”

“Griff.”

Phil looked closer at Ash. He didn’t look much like Griffin. Griffin had been big and solid with a broad, amiable face. There had been a softness to him, a gentle quality that always took everyone by surprise when they found that quality in a soldier. Ash was small and skinny and hard. His eyes, his cold expression, everything about him seemed hard, like he’d been carved from granite. He sat at the table, slouched in his chair, but his eyes were so intense that Phil couldn’t be fooled into thinking Ash was at all relaxed. He was tense, but didn’t seem angry. He was young, too, so much younger than Griffin had been the last time Phil had seen him. Griffin had been barely more than a boy at twenty-two-years-old and Ash couldn’t possibly be that old so...

Phil felt cold, all over. He actually shivered as a disturbing thought drifted to the forefront of his mind. “Ash is the witness.”

Max nodded. “Yeah. He’s the witness.”

There was no possible way that a teenage boy would have been used as a guard in a child sex-slave organization or in any kind of administrative position. Which meant... “Ash, were you...” There was no tactful way to phrase the question. “Were you a victim of Club Cod?”

The narrowing of Ash’s eyes was the only hint that Phil had hit a sore spot. Ash’s voice was a cold as ice when he answered, “Do I look like a victim? I survived Club Cod. And, yeah, before you ask, I really am going to testify about it. You said you wanted to offer protection.”

“Yes, of course.” And that protection would have to be enhanced now that Phil knew they were dealing with a victim, and not an adult employee of Club Cod looking to protect his own skin as they’d thought. This detail changed everything. “The main protection we can offer is location. You can stay in the Avenger’s Tower until the trial. With the technology in use there, no one will be able to get in without express permission from the Avenger’s.”

“Forget it. I don’t need your help.” Ash said it briskly as he leaned forward, putting his arms on the table in front of him. “I can guard my own hide.”

It was a ridiculous idea. “Do you have any idea the kinds of threats you’re facing?”

“Sure.” Ash listed off the names of several high-ranking politicians both in America and in other countries. He shrugged, carelessly. Phil recognized the names and felt sick. He’d never have suspected them. Ash said, “If they aren’t afraid of what I’ll say, they should be. Want me to tell you which old dude has a mole on his butt? I’ve seen it all. Literally.”

“If you know the danger then you must know that you need help, whether you want it or not.”

“Look, Max said he’d talk to me and he did. I’m talking to you and I’m refusing your offer.”

Phil asked, “Why? Why on Earth would you refuse protection from the Avengers?”

“Why would I not want to be locked up and my every move controlled by a bunch of old people who can easily overpower me? Gee, let’s think about that one for a bit...” He rolled his eyes and pulled the hood up over his bright blonde hair. “This meeting is done. Go away.”

And Ash wouldn’t be budged. Phil had no choice but to leave after saying farewell to Max and quietly asking him to have Ash reconsider. As he walked out of the Chang Dai thinking about how he could set up a discrete protection detail for Ash.

Later-
Ash-

In his little apartment, Ash stood by the window watching the crowds flow by on the sidewalk outside. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared. He turned and leaned his back against one of the brick walls. He’d kept this tiny apartment for two years. It had been a gift. There were two deadbolts on the door, a chain lock, and a key lock. The windows were secure, too. Not only were they locked, but he’d deliberately painted them closed.

The meeting at Chang Dai had left Ash uncomfortable. Being in Chang Dai was painful in itself as he’d kept expecting Shorter to walk out from the kitchen. Of course, he didn’t. Having Max’s friend offer protection was a whole new level of weird. Ash trusted Max to the end of the world, but he still put Phil in the category of ‘garbage’ until further notice. He had caught Phil trying to get Michael to open the apartment door and he couldn’t stand for that sort of thing. So Ash couldn’t decide if the apparently generous offer of help was genuine or some elaborate trick and he wasn’t willing to take the risk.

“Well?” Max asked. “What are you thinking?” Max sat at the table, his hands folded in front of him.

“I don’t need a bunch of rich guys in spandex to help.”

Max chuckled. “Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that. I’m surprised you let Phil come here yesterday.”

Ash shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, now. I can’t keep this place. Too dangerous.”

“Really?” Max looked at Ash, disbelieving. “You can’t tell me a lot of people know you live here.”

“This place was a present from... from Dino. He kept records about everything so all someone has to do is go hunting through his stuff and they’ll find it. He gave this place to me on my sixteenth birthday. This and a flashy red car. He paid all the bills.”

Max was quiet for a time. His eyebrows drew together, a sure sign of his growing ire.

Ash laughed. “Don’t get mad. This was my reward, after all. I’d proved he could trust me not to run away so he gave me a car. I’d proved I’d go back to him when he called, so he gave me this place. It’s my privacy.” Ash went to run a hand over one of the deadbolts on the door. “I never got any locks on the door when Dino made me live with him, but I have locks here. Doesn’t matter. Someone will come looking for me here, now, so I have to give it up.”

“I almost want to say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” Max looked around the little apartment with still growing anger. “You don’t need to be living off his dime. He’s not paying for you, anymore. You deserve better than this.”

“Hey, I took good care of this place.” And he had. Ash had spent hours cleaning it when Dino had given him the rat infested apartment. At the time, Ash had thought Dino might have meant it as a test and expected Ash to go running back to Dino’s mansion with the down-filled pillows and satin bed sheets, but Ash had been thrilled at the prospect of privacy. Even if it wasn’t really his. It was only his so long as Dino said it was, just like the clothes on his back were only his if Dino said he could have them, and he got an education so long as Dino allowed it. So Ash had cleaned and found a table and bed at the local thrift store. He’d been given the desk. That had been a present, but not from Dino. Ash ran a hand over the top of the desk in a rare show of sentimentality. “I took really good care of everything here.”

“You sure did, kid. Do you want to bring anything with you,” Max asked. “I can bring the truck over.”

“I don’t want to call too much attention to myself by carrying out a lot of big furniture. It’s better to abandon it all.” He stared at the desk. He really hated to give that up. “Maybe my book.” He picked up a battered copy of ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ off the desk. That had been a present, too. He’d read it four times, but hadn’t finished his current reading. There were other books on the desk, too. School books Dino had given him, everything from advanced algebra to Greek philosophy to computer programming. Dino had always liked to brag that he gave Ash a well-rounded education. Ash didn’t care for those books. He dug out a ‘Field and Stream’ magazine and a picture book of ‘The Little Engine that Could’. He glared at Max. “Not a word! Michael said it was his favorite book and he wanted to let me read it, so shut up!”

“I didn’t say a word. Although... ‘Field and Stream’?”

Ash shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “I thought... maybe. Someday. Griff used to say he’d take me fishing when I got older. Maybe, after the trial, I might try it.”

Max nodded. “That’s a fine idea. If you want we can take all your books. There’s plenty of room in the other apartment. It’ll make us all feel better if you stay with Jessica and Michael, anyway.”

“Those books are from Dino. I don’t need them. Throw them away, for all I care.”

“I’m sorry. We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Use your head. If they’re from Dino, then they’re evidence. Those books, this place... everything is evidence.”

Ash nodded. It was logical. So they agreed to keep paying rent on the apartment while Ash would go live with Jessica and Michael. Max would keep a distance because his name was public knowledge so if there was anyone looking to kill the witness, they would likely target Max and anyone near him would be put in danger.

They started to leave, Ash with his books and a set of clothes, and at the door, Ash took a last look over his shoulder. He felt a pang of regret at having to leave it, but shoved the feeling aside. It wasn’t practical to be bothered by such things. His eyes fell back to his desk. That really was his. Dino hadn’t paid a single penny for it. It wasn’t practical. No point in taking such a big thing - it would attract too much attention. He could get another desk, after all. But even if he did get a new one and even if it looked exactly the same, it wouldn’t be his desk.

Ash pushed the self-pity aside. It was useless. He straightened his shoulders and followed Max out of the room and a little closer to the trial.

To be continued...