Gatsby | Wanda M.

Six: Day 306

Someone knocked on the door. Fury already knew who it'd be.

He sighed heavily and tapped the pen on that single sheet within Gatsby's file. "Come in, Barton," he called out gruffly.

Barton slipped in, dressed in everyday dress. A t-shirt, jeans, some hoodie. Fury briefly wondered if he'd called him away from his family. But they could wait. This was important.

No matter how lovely Mrs. Barton and even those brat kids proved to be. God, why was he remembering those muffins? She made them years ago, when he was first setting up their secrecy, and he hadn't forgotten them yet. It was a curse.

Barton squared his shoulders, hands clasped behind his back and a little smirk on his face. "You needed me?"

"Yes. We've got an... increasing problem."

"How so?"

First he nodded to the chair across from him and Barton settled into it, leaning forward now with his hands clasped before him. Then Fury slid the newspaper across, folded to focus on the headline, painting, and first couple sentences. Barton picked it up with a glance to Fury first and then he watched his eyes scanning it all.

"This is our problem."

"Do you know who it is?" Barton asked a moment later, scouring the article.

He sighed, "That's the problem."

The younger man paused and looked up, brows raised high on his forehead.

"Not only does this guy seem volatile, violent, unhinged, clever—"

"Wow, okay. We know, like, nothing about what he's like. Maybe lay off—"

Fury glared and held up a hand. Barton fell into sheepish silence. "—and powerful, I have no record of him."

This time, the silence was heavy. He didn't know why it felt like he was being scrutinized. It certainly wasn't his fault they knew nothing. If someone screwed up, it wasn't him.

Barton's eyes widened and he placed the newspaper back on the desk carefully, in a way he knew to be disbelieving and bewildered. "What do you mean you have no record of him?"

This time he slid the folder forward. Fury watched Barton's jaw clench with only a single look at its size. And when he took it into his lap and flipped it open, he seemed only to stare at the near-empty sheet inside. Fury narrowed his eyes. It didn't even look like there was a thought in his mind. Was there a brain somewhere in there? Sometimes he doubted it but this moment solidified that doubt more than anything.

"They've started calling him...?" Barton trailed off.

"Gatsby," Fury said. "Do you know why they call him Gatsby?"

"Why?"

"Because nobody knows anything about him. Absolutely nothing. It's like he doesn't even exist."

Barton gulped, looking up. He knew how big, how monumentally strange, this was.

"Shit," he breathed, shutting the folder and placing it back on the table.

Fury took back the papers and gave them an absentminded pat. "Yes. Shit is right."

"What's the plan?"

"I'm sending agents out to investigate and then, when we find this Gatsby, that is where you come in."

"You want me to talk to him."

"Talk. Capture. Neutralize him. Whatever you deem necessary."

"Whatever?"

"I..." Fury rolled his eyes. "I trust you."

"I'm flattered."

"Barton. Just find him."

Barton nodded and his eyes were determined. "Got it."

"Now get out of my sight."

Barton cracked a grin. "Got it."

When he was gone, Fury ran a hand over his head and adjusted the strap of his eyepatch. He briefly thought of Goose, that not-a-cat from so many years before. Then those muffins again. Even through all of this he still wanted those damn muffins?

Ugh.

~᯽~

Live laugh love Fury and his muffins

And I just watched The Marvels last night and honestly loved it so much, even if the villain was lacking. What did y'all think? (courtesy of this chapter's Goose ish-cameo)

See you at the next chapter!