Run Chad RUN! #3.3

Commissioned by [ChaosUntold] on P*treon.

Disclaimer - I don’t own nor claim to own any of the IP of the giant multi Billion Dollar companies that might appear here. I just own any OCs that you see.

NYC [May 2011]

–Chad Tannings–

“Thank you,” The Captain said before looking out the window. “It’s just,” There was hesitation and real pain in the man’s voice, “I had a date.”

He blinked, leaning back a bit as Captain told him about Agent Carter. He traded looks with Fury who was watching him with the intensity of a hawk, which made sense since he was the most dangerous being that Fury had probably since Hulk and Abomination duked it out in the middle of Harlem.

That part, where Carter was still alive, with brain degradation, and on the verge of dying but still a few years away from certain death, how Cap could still make it if he tried, how it was possible that he could, maybe, get that date he always wanted, maybe not the dance but a nice conversation.

That part? Yeah, he was not going to touch that part with a ten foot pole, even if someone paid him to do it.

And yet, Fury was not paying him so creating trouble for the man would always be worth it. Not like he would have to deal with an irate and determined Captain America, a force that few could match or stop in this world.

Before he could voice out his plan, the lights coming from the windows, small as it may have been, stopped coming. He looked out to see they had entered a dimly lit tunnel of sorts. Also, the engine noise clued him in on the exact speed the cars were running at. Which meant this was probably some super special secret tunnel built in the middle of New York, for SHIELD.

“I wonder if the taxpayers know,” He said, drawing the attention of the Director and Captain, “-that their hard earned money is being used to build tunnels in one of the most gridlocked cities on the planet and then they were not even allowed to use it.”

“SHIELD is not funded just by a single country. That is a feature, that allows us to remain independent from any interference from a single country as we can always–”

He stopped Fury in the middle of his pitch for Captain, highlighting the good part of SHIELD, “I heard that the United States of America was the primary funding country of the organisation and the President appointed the Secretary who you ultimately serve under?” The question was asked innocently and yet, the glare he received in return was anything but innocent or kind, or non murderous.

“You know way too much for being an outsider,” Fury warned him and he acquiesced, for now that is. 

Soon, the cars began slowing down, with Fury getting more and more relaxed as the seconds went by. Internally, he smirked. He knew that he was not getting out of this palace without something happening. Maybe some show of force, subtle pressure being applied on him.

Maybe an addition to INDEX will be forced upon him with a complete power profile being crafted to make sure he could be neutralised. Well, joke’s on him if he tried that because he could phase now. Not perfectly and certainly not while holding on to someone but if it was just him? He could do that easily now.

For now, he was just here because he was bored and found something that could remotely be called as work and was interesting enough to grab his attention. The Captain was powerful, not in the sense of being physically powerful.

No, there were plenty of other people he could approach and take under his wing who could either match or even surpass Cap here in terms of pure physical prowess. No, what was powerful about the Captain came from not his physique but his mind, from what he represented.

The US, despite what some people might believe, is beholden to what its citizens think. The Government, in a bid to propagate pro-US propaganda, made the Captain into such a larger than life figure that now there was hardly anyone in the world, let alone in America, who did not know of and worship Captain America.

He was literally the embodiment of America and her military might, creating a status symbol for the government.

They made him a martyr, which he technically was, and then elevated him to such a position that technically, everyone in the Army was technically his junior, with an entirely new posting being created to honor him, with no one else ever given that same award.

Now, what would happen if that martyr, whose thoughts–true thoughts no one knew about, came back to life? And heaven forbid, began talking to the public? About his true feelings?

He could bet half his life that there were people in the government who would shit themselves if they realised what was happening in SHIELD. Fury knew enough to know that he could never be able to use Captain for his own political purposes because the Captain was way too smart for that. But just having the Captain on your side in a negotiation practically guaranteed a win when the US government was involved.

All of this without even considering the fact that his blood, of which there were no doubt dozens of bags in a vault somewhere now, was literally priceless as of now. He could foresee a Super Soldier Arms race given a shot in the arm, with literally unlimited checks being cashed out, just for the small chance that a super soldier could be created.

Or maybe, the world’s governments would realise that Captain’s true value lay in his ability to gather the masses under him, not his ability to punch harder. They could already make either people who could punch harder and faster, like the Hulk, or they could make technology that could do all that the Captain could do and more, like the Iron Man suit.

Either way, he was just here to make sure that the Captain was not misled and also to make sure that a positive impression was created, for the big fight in a year or so. 

“Gentlemen,” Fury said as he got out of the car, so did they, as he blinked once to get adjusted to the bright lights of the futuristic base they had walked into.

“Welcome to New York SHIELD HQ,” Fury said as a battalion of agents walked towards them, thankfully not armed but holding onto a number of things, including a wheelchair of all things.

“That will not be necessary,” Fury said to the leading doctor, wearing the same suit as the other agents but with just a white jacket on, signalling her status as the doctor.

Fury then glanced back at them before whispering to the Doctor, “Look, he just ran faster than our best Olympians and punched through multiple walls to do so. I think we can skip the wheelchair for now,”

He snickered out loud, barely catching himself before it turned into full bellied laughter. They wanted to put the Captain into that wheelchair? Man, that was a good joke. As Fury said, the Captain could probably defeat dozens of agents here in Close Quarter Combat and then walk away, even now, when he was not in the best of conditions, let alone once the man was warmed up properly and was ready to fight.

One of the many things he wished to learn from the man. To learn how to fight because as of now, he was just using the disgusting speed differential between his enemies and himself to his advantage, allowing him to take down hardened criminals without any formal training whatsoever.

He tried reading about it but as expected, learning about it and doing it over and over again until one can develop instinctual understanding about it were two different things in two entirely different universes.

“Follow me,” Fury said as they walked behind him, and into a conference room of sorts, where Coulson was already waiting, fidgeting while he walked, a nervous wreck as he was about to meet his childhood idol.

They entered the room and he could see Coulson’s face light up as if there was a spotlight specifically on the man. Agent Coulson opened his mouth, no doubt ready to put his foot in his mouth, so he helped the man and greeted the man first, going so far as to hug the man.

“Agent Coulson! How are you?” Then, once they were near, he whispered into the man’s ears, “Now’s not the time for nerding out. Maybe later on.”

Culson looked confused for less than a second before the professional avatar of Coulson came out, nodding as he stepped forward with a calm, collected smile on his face with a hand extended towards Captain.  

“Nice to meet you, I’m Agent Coulson.”

“So,” He said, making everyone look at his smirking face, “Is your first name Agent or am I missing something?”

Everyone just deadpanned at him, even the Captain who was literally missing 70 years of meme worthy references.

“Fine. That’s my bad.” He agreed, raising his hands in the signature surrender position.

“If everyone is done, can we start?” Fury said, irate, already seated.

He nodded and sat down in one of the chairs, ready for the meeting.

“Ah! Before we can begin,” He said just as Fury opened his mouth, enjoying messing with the man. Grinning a tad bit too widely, he said, “Agent Carter is still alive. She is sick but alive. She was one of the founders of this place and that guy,” He pointed at Fury who was now audibly grinding his teeth, “can get you to Carter, with ease might I add. Don’t listen to any of his excuses as he is one of the few people with a direct line to the President and if that doesn’t happen, don't worry. I will find you soon and help you.”

Then he stood, chair sliding back, arcs of red erupted around his body as he sloppily saluted at Fury and the Captain, “Until then, so long, Captain.”

Then, he disappeared, flashing out of the room, and running through the tunnels, until he found himself running straight onto one of the subway tracks. Hmm, so a different exit, then?

Well, no matter. He shrugged and ran parallel to the tracks. They could not have gone too far anyway.

Midway, he just began cackling, breaking out into fits of laughter just thinking about the shit show he left behind for Fury. Ah, he loved his own sense of humor.

It was just so messed up!