S.W.O.R.D Training facility 025
— Ling's Legendary Laundromat —
I arrived at a run-down building that was adorned by a neon-sign barely clinging to life. Beside the single story cube of a building was a large attached garage.
With a deep breath I entered the store, a bell chime announcing my presence to the lone old asian man inside.
He called out to me from behind a counter, his eyes not leaving the soap-opera playing from a nearby T.V.
"What kind of laundry?" He asked lazily.
"A lot of wine, stains from a party last night."
"Party huh? You sure it's just wine?"
"Red, white, and somehow, a little bit of blue." I replied.
Ling's face instantly shifted from lazy to a cold-dead stare. He gave me a once over, then nodded and waved me to follow.
He brought me to the back of the building, leading me through a storage closet, then a false door, into a hallway, down a set of steps until we reached a large set of metal doors.
Ling turned around and left me there.
I second I approached the doors a tiny camera appeared from a hidden panel. A laser show of scans washed over me in less than a second before the camera vanished back into its compartment.
A breath later the metal doors slid open, revealing an elevator with a single button.
I stepped in and pressed the button, the doors behind me slid closed and I felt myself begin to descend. A speaker suddenly flared to life — elevator music began to play.
Three minutes later…
The doors lid open again and I found myself face to face with a rough looking olive-skinned man. A scar ran horizontally across his nose, and his dark eyes stared me down. He was dressed head to toe in tactical spy-ware and sleek ballistic armor, a pair of pistols attached to his thighs.
"Riven Thorne?" He said, his voice weathered and grizzly.
"Yes sir."
"I'm Black Division Field Agent Johnson, welcome to SWORD, follow me for your on-boarding process."
I followed the man through a corridor laced with cameras, sealed doors, and reinforced blast doors at every corner. The deeper we went into the facility the more futuristic it began looking.
Eventually we entered a small classroom-esque room filled with desks and a large holographic display at the far end.
I took a seat at the front of the class, while Agent Johnson took the head of the class, grabbing a transparent tablet and tapped a few icons.
The screen behind him blared to life in tech-blue glory.
— Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division —
PRIMER 101
Johnson pulled out a thick book, smacking it down on my desk.
"Firsts things first, you gotta do your homework."
I groaned.
—
SWORD was pretty much SHIELD — just with less Hydra, and more space.
It began the moment SHIELD dissolved, just after Ultron level'd Solvakia.
The differences lay int the operational range, and heavier focus on 'Sentient Weapons' which is a fancy way of Human with powers.
This also includes the alien, the heretic.
Any and all alien-based tech, events and threats either on-earth or off is under the purview of SWORD.
I quickly learnt that the agency was surprisingly small, maybe a thousand individuals, tops. Mostly due to the recent dissolution of SHIELD, the lingering wounds from Hydra, and Fury's inherent paranoia of all things.
This was even more the case within the Black Division.
Six agents at least earth-side — and three of them were currently 'Off the books', who I assumed to be Cap, Widow and Hawkeye. The three other agents were Johnson, and two other unnamed, need to know, agents.
I made up the seventh agent, having not gotten a cool code name yet.
As far as the Black Division goes it's akin to Spec Ops — missions that require more than human hands.
Mutants, Aliens, and quoting Agent Johnson, "Any inhuman, son of a bitch, dumb enough to get between us and our mission objective."
Johnson gave me a tour of the facility, introducing me to a number of individuals related to my duties.
I met the head of the Advanced Requisition Research labs, which was another fancy way of saying, 'This is where we dismantle all the alien tech we steal to make cool guns and stuff.'
Then it was onto the armory to get me fitted with a Field & Intelligence agent set. I was pleasantly surprised at the tech level — paper-thin face masks that projected holographic face doubles, multi-wave radios the size of a earbud, a number of both conventional ballistic and energy weapons, though it was clear that the tech heads were still in the early stages of reverse engineering Chitari & probably Kree tech.
I debated showing them my Jedi Robes, but decided against it to have a secret identity in my back pocket.
As much as I was planning to take my new job seriously, I wasn't going to be their dog.
Like Tao said, I am a Master of the Mystic Arts first and foremost, not to mention her disciple.
After getting kitted, I was brought into an open gym with way too many boxing bags, weight-lifting machines and advanced omni-treadmills for an agency the size of SWORD.
Clearly I've joined in the early stages.
For the next few hours Johnson ran me through a number of sparring matches, obstacle courses and live-fire drills — hammering in gun safety and competence like a true instructor would.
I didn't have much experience with firearms, and my first couple tries reflected that… that is until I started using the Force as aim-assist. My bullets began to fly true, with eerie pin-point precognitive precision. By the end of the session I was too busy cursing out the Jedi Order for refusing to use projectile weapons. Johnson was satisfied, as he didn't care how quickly I learnt, only that I hit my targets.
With my new status as an Agent of SWORD, I no longer needed to train with Mike. Who had apparently been an undercover recruiter this whole time.
And I was even so careful; blindly focused on avoiding the Hand to see the Sword in its grip.
I was a little sad about loosing my peaceful trainings with Mike, but the man promised we'd still meet up every now and then, and when I hit the drinking age he'd buy me a drink as an apology for tricking me.
How nice of him.
The next few weeks flew by as I rapidly gained competency in all things a super-spy could do.
I held off on showing any Mystical Arts, limiting myself to Telekinesis, Force Body, and unholy reaction speeds.
By the end of the third week I had been given my first mission.
Imagine my surprise when it wasn't at all related to the Alien, the mutant, or the heretic.
The force works… in mysterious ways indeed.
For I was to be a shadow guard, a liaison to an attending 'dignatary' at a soon to happen U.N Conference for an Avenger, commonly know as Black Widow.
— VIENNA, AUSTRIA —
I stood on the tarmac of a private runway, facing an all-white jet with a singular tail-fin turbine that caused my formal black suit to ruffle in its weakening roar.
As the engine died down a staircase opened, flipping out from the side of the cabin, gently touching down.
A woman dressed in a formal dress-suit and heels appeared, her fiery red hair fluttering in the wind.
The legendary Natasha Romanov swept her green eyes over me and the accompanying black SUV behind me. A gentle smile her lips. She was dangerously good-looking, the way she swaggered towards me sent a shiver down my sine.
I held my hand out as she approached, "Miss Romanov, I'm David Carpenter, I'm to be your aide, it's a pleasure to meet you." I said fully meaning my words.
Natasha returned my handshake with a firm grip. "Likewise Mr. Carpenter, shall we?"
I nodded and opened a door for her, before following her inside and slamming the door behind us.
The cacophony of the world outside drowned away in an instant and the driver stepped the car into motion.
Natasha gave me a once over, her eyes lingering on my false face. She smirked, "Aren't you a little young to be doing field work?"
I let out a chuckle, "Thats classified Ms. Romanov."
Natasha scoffed. "Looks like Fury's already rubbing off on you. Who's your instructor, Clint? Rodrigues? Johnson—" She paused the moment Johnson's name left her mouth, a knowing smile her lips.
"Johnson huh? He's good, a little rigid."
How the fuck? I'm Level 10 Classified — did she read my body language that easily?
I sighed wryly, "Is this some kinda hazing ritual?"
Natasha laughed, but didn't deny it.
Then rest of the ride passed in relative silence as she went over the supposedly cake walk of a mission.
Go to the summit, signs some papers, show support for the King of Wakanda — and be out before dinner.
Ahhh... if only she knew.
We arrived at the U.N. Headquarters to much fanfare. A flurry of flashes greeted us as a suffocating crowd of reporters screamed at Natasha from behind their zoo-like fences.
I kept a straight face as we ignored all of them. Staying quiet as we weaved into the headquarters, we exchanged curt greetings with a number of faceless politicians, security council members and other soul-sucking creatures.
By the time we finally arrived, the auditorium was already nearly filled. Natasha went ahead as I took my place against the wall, standing as close as possible to the speakers platform.
She went about signing a few documents, greeting other dignitaries, until she turned to greet the future Black Panther in the himself.
T'Challa was tall, broad shoulder and long-armed. He smiled at the world around him with the bearing of a true prince. T'Chaka also appeared — a King fated to die.
Though, that might be the case this time around…
Soon the conference began and Natasha took her seat.
T'Chaka approached the podium, the prince stood off the the side. The moment the man began to speak the world around me drowned into a muted silence.
I sank into the Force, extending my senses out as far as I could. I focused my mind towards the road visible from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
A news van suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, almost immediately a couple of security guards responded. I could feel their confusion and suspicion through the Force. A security guard approached the back of the van and the moment he opened the back his fear spiked through the Force.
My head snapped to the side, seeing color drain from T'Challa's face as he gazed down at the commotion below.
His head snapped towards his King as he exploded into action.
"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!"
I moved, the Force wrapping around me as I blurred through space towards the King. The world felt slow as I watched the explosion begin to tear through the glass.
This is the moment where it could all go to shit…
An intrusive thought suddenly registered in my mind, a dreadful chill running down my back.
Did I really just let all those people below die?
The realization sank to the bottom of my stomach like a lead weight as I extended a hand out. A circular Force barrier manifested in space, separating the two Wakandans from the concussive ball of fire.
I felt a slight strain stab across my mind right as the explosion slammed into my barrier.
Then time flowed again.
*BOOOM!
My ears screamed as a deafening noise tore through the auditorium. Smoke and debris filled the room as the building quaked, lights flickering as glass rained from above.
I reached my other hand towards Natasha, and another small barrier manifested above her.
After what felt like the longest breath of my life I dismissed my barriers, taking in the utter chaos around me.
People screamed, some wailed, while the rest shouted orders. I looked over to the two Wakandans, seeing T'Chaka clutched in T'Challa's arms, staring at me.
The king was the first to break out of his stupor, patting his son as he rose to his feet. He took in the destruction before a moment before turning to me.
"Thank you."
I grimaced a grin, "You're welcome, your majesty."