[Quinn]
After what seemed like hours, but in reality was only about 50 minutes, we reached the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. I must say, they kept it pretty well hidden. The vast spread of buildings was located a couple of hours outside of New York City and was highly protected with tall, barbed-wire rimmed stone walls. Guards manned the outside and inside of the wall 24/7, some from watchtowers.
The helicopter gently dropped down on a large landing pad that by the looks of it, held more than a few measly helicopters. I'm talking they could initiate a full out aerial strike.
The door was opened by a few guards wearing black suits and earpieces. They nodded at the Avengers with respect as we climbed out. None of them questioned me as they led us inside. One of the men took my bag, and I was grateful that I had carried everything important on me in case they looked through my stuff. Which I didn't doubt they would do.
We were led down a series of twisting hallways, each with long rows of doors. As we walked, I memorized the directions I would have to turn if I needed to get away. Left, left, right, hallway down the center, staircase on the right.
We went around a corner and the guards stopped at an elevator. Two guards, three superheroes and me. Crap.
One of the guards pressed his hand against a pad on the side of the wall, and it registered his hand print before blinking. We all got on, and I immediately felt constricted. But I wouldn't show them any weakness. I kept still as the elevator rose, my face set in stony determination. If I can just hold off the memories...
Finally, the doors slid open and I calmly stepped off. We were in a tall glass tower in the center of the whole S.H.I.E.L.D compound, giving me a good view of the buildings. The room looked like a type of control room, full of blinking computers and workers in black uniforms rushing about.
When we were all off of the lift, everyone glanced up for a second and stopped what they were doing. Most went straight back to work after that, but some eyed me cautiously, taking in my mysterious aura and the deadly daggers hanging from my waist.
"You must be the Phantom." A tall man strode to stand in front of me, emanating an air of power and importance. A white scar cut across his dark skinned face, over the eye that was covered by a black eye patch. A dark trench coat hung off of his broad shoulders, complete with a gun in a belt on his waist. I immediately knew who this man was. Director Fury.
"Who else would I be?" I asked. I let my fiery attitude out a bit as I replied. I needed to show this man that he wasn't going to intimidate me.
His one good eye swept over my body as he evaluated me. He gave a curt nod at the two guards and immediately they left the room, probably returning to their other duties.
"Follow me." Was all he said before he swept out of the room. The three Avengers stuck close to me while we strode down the hallways, as if expecting me to do something unpredictable.
We followed Fury into a well lit room with wide oak doors, which he closed. In the center of the room was a long, wooden conference table, with a large screen mounted on one of the walls.
An array of people looked up as we walked in, all of them in different places in the room. Clint Barton sat next to a woman at the table wearing a black jumpsuit and who had red hair, making her look fierce. A man wearing a button-up shirt and rectangular glasses sat at the far end of the table, playing with an ink pen. A tall man with shoulder length blond hair, slight beard, intricate armor and a red cape stood gazing out the window. A large hammer hung off of his belt.
How on earth can be pick that thing up? I thought.
Fury gave a nod at the table and said in a commanding tone, "Sit." Everyone obeyed if they weren't already at the table and made themselves comfy. I stayed standing. Stark leaned back in his chair and propped his legs on the table, earning him an eye roll from Fury.
"These," Fury started. "are the Avengers, the most elite group of superheroes on the planet. Thor."
The man wearing the strange armor nodded.
"Agent Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow."
The woman didn't say anything but continued to examine me in a way that told me she was trained and shouldn't be messed with.
"Dr. Banner, otherwise known as the Hulk."
The man wearing the button up shirt gave a small grunt of acknowledgement.
"And of course you've met Ironman, Tony Stark. Captain America, Steve Rogers. And Hawkeye, Agent Barton."
Tony Stark shot me a cocky grin, Steve Rogers gave a small smile, and Hawkeye stayed silent.
"Now, down to business." Fury's gaze drifted to me. "I'm sure you were already told of our situation."
I smoothly sat down in the chair closest to me at the table.
"I'm aware that New York has been invaded by demons, and I'm the only one who knows how to get rid of them."
"Demons?" Fury shot at me.
"Not the type you're thinking about. They don't come from the inner depths of Hell or another dimension or anything. Much different. Before I decide if I should tell you or not, what do you need me for once you know how to kill them?"
He stalked to the other side of the table, faced me, and leaned in.
"There is no 'if you decide to tell us'. You will inform us of all that you know and your sources, is that clear?" His gaze burned into me as his anger rose.
"I will tell you the minimum of what you need to know, nothing more. If I remember correctly, I am the only person who can save your city. When I say the only person, I mean the only person. Do you understand me?"
"Why are you so sure that you're the only person that will help us? There has to be others out there somewhere, the sources you got your information from."
I barked out a laugh, my voice sounding cold and distant.
"Everyone who knows how to stop this is either dead, or the ones behind it."
"If you aren't willing to disclose all you know, I may be forced to use other....methods. Are you familiar with the term torture?" Fury spat. He's trying to intimidate me, I thought. I saw Steve Rogers' face become icy as he glared at Fury.
"Fury, there won't be a need for that." Steve said.
"You're right," I said, acknowledging the heated comment made by Captain America. "Because no matter what you try, you won't get a word out of me with torture. Trust me, I have practice." I hissed.
Fury let out an infuriated growl and strode around the room before quickly pivoting on the spot and turning towards me again.
"Fine." He said through gritted teeth. "Tell me all you can, or will."
"Not until you answer the second part of my question. After I give you information, what are you going to do with me?"
Fury stood there, in thought.
"Until we get this sorted out, you're staying with us as a recruit. If you try to leave, you will be seen as a threat, which isn't good news for you. We could always use your assistance, but it seems like you've been doing good enough by yourself. But you can only do so much, which is where we come in."
I nodded. It made sense. But I wouldn't ask for their help until I desperately needed it. Maybe I could get them to tell me where some people are. I have people I need to make pay for what they did.
"Ok," I sighed, "what do you need to know, as long as you don't question my sources."
"What are they?" Thor asked.
"Broken parts of souls that were detached from their original soul. They don't just kill people; they feed on their souls. If they're hungry enough, they'll also eat the person. They're dark creatures that are always hungry for more since they're so empty; they crave their whole soul but they can't get it back so they make do with other people's, which may feed them for a bit but won't satisfy. Technically, they are part of a person, but they can never be reattached. The person dies instantly once their soul is completely ripped from them. "
"Where do they come from?" Agent Romanoff questioned, giving off an attitude like she was interrogating me.
"They're created. Once they're made, they can make others with the souls they consume, but usually not by themselves."
"You say they're created. How?"
I really didn't want to answer that question in case they dug deeper, but if I didn't it would make them all the more curious. "A machine. It runs on the energy created by the souls and uses that energy to materialize the lost souls into the monsters you see. There are only a few demons that are able to do that though, because it involves them having to hold the energy inside of them until they can get to the machine, which is impossible unless the demon is powerful. They get stronger when they devour souls."
The room was silent as everyone digested that information. Finally, Tony Stark spoke.
"Who is the person behind this, and how do we stop them? Whoever this guy is, he needs to be put into an insane asylum."
"Corvus Vermont." My voice sounded harsh as I said my father's name. No, he's not my father, I reminded myself. He was never a real father to me. "He's the leader of the League, which controls all of Fycon City." At the mention of the League, the superheroes glanced at each other, not knowing what it was.
Fury turned to me. "The League? I heard some rumors about it and researched it. I found nothing; it doesn't exist."
A small smirk slipped onto my lips. "That's because most of the government officials of Fycon City are in it or can't do anything about it for fear of being blackmailed or killed. It's not just the political leaders. Cops. Business men. Teachers. Everyday people. Imagine if all of New York was dominated by a radical group, and you couldn't do anything about it because it consisted of most of the citizens of New York. It's kept very quiet."
Fury sank into a chair, deep in thought. "This is much bigger than I thought it would be. And more complicated." He looked at me. "Are you sure that all of your information is true?"
Of course, the leader is my father! Instead of saying that aloud like I wanted to, I simply nodded and said, "Positive."
Fury pressed a hand to his ear, no doubt wearing an earpiece. "Agent Crowe, can you research Corvus Vermont for me? You too, Agent Hill. Tell me anything and everything you find. That's all." After a moment, Fury stood and turned to me. "Are you going to tell me what your name is?
"It depends on who's asking."
It seemed that everyone caught on to the sly double meaning in my words.
"If you don't answer, I'll have to investigate you. I'm sure you don't want that. I have good resources, I can find out."
"I'm not so sure about that."
He glared at me. "It looks like you're going to be working with us for a while, and it would be best if you gave us your name. Unless you want to be suspected for being a part of the League."
My temper flared. How dare he accuse me of that? The only thing I've done since getting out of that hell hole my father imprisoned me in is work to destroy the League and kill him, get my revenge.
"Quinn." I gritted out, clutching the table angrily as I rose to face him. "And you will never accuse me of working for the League again, do you understand?" The raw fury in my words seemed to reassure him that I wasn't a League member, because he gave a small grunt. I caught Stark giving me an appraising look while everyone else seemed slightly shocked.
"Well then, Quinn, how do you kill the demons?"
I slowly lowered myself back into the seat and pulled out my dagger. "There's only one way to kill a demon, and that's vibranium."
Vibranium is the strongest metal on earth, also the rarest. The machine that my father created is made of vibranium. All of the other metals he tried melted under the pure force of the energy he harvested from the souls. Vibranium has a negative effect on the demons because they were made in it. It is the only thing that can kill them, well, besides a power of my own.
I got my powers through the machine he created to experiment with human souls. He named the invention of his the Irritum Animam, which in Latin means "break soul". Since I got my abilities from the machine, vibranium also has a negative effect on me. It won't kill me instantly, but it is more potent than a regular metal. When I touch it, my skin burns and feels like it's on fire. If I touch vibranium for too long, it can also make my skin at the point of contact blister or bleed, just like with a fire. That's why I'm careful when I use my daggers, which are pure vibranium.
Corvus Vermont conducts dark experiments on humans and animals by splitting their soul and seeing what happens. He experimented on me and ripped part of my soul away. Since humans can't live without a complete soul he replaced it with part of a raven's soul, which gave me my wings, changed my hair from red to black, and made my gray eyes a brilliant silver. It also gave me the ability to use pure energy from my soul to fight.
If I control the energy correctly, I can channel it into my hands where I can throw it and fight with it. It's hard though; the first time I attempted to use it, I lost control. I was on a small island about five miles from Fycon City. Now the island, which used to be wooded, is devoid of trees. My power is too risky to use, but I have to let it out every once in a while or I could explode and release it all at once. The same happens when I'm extremely angry.
I watched as everyone's eyes drifted to Steve Rogers. Sensing my confusion, Steve explained. "My shield is made of vibranium."
I eyed his shield which he now had placed on the table. "Good to know in case I ever try to throw one of my daggers at it for target practice." Tony snickered.
"Vibranium?" Banner questioned, looking interested. I nodded. "Since I assume your daggers are made of vibranium, may I see?"
Warily, I removed one of my daggers from my belt and began to slide it across the table.
"Wait," Tony Stark interjected. All eyes turned to him. "I want to see you throw it, but you better throw it at me, don't want Banner's 'other personality' to come out."
I didn't know what he meant by Banner's 'other personality', but I didn't ask. My eyes, though not seen because of my hood, quickly searched for a spot to throw the dagger. I smirked when I saw that one of Tony's hands was lazily splayed out on the table. In the space of a second, I had picked up and thrown my dagger in an easy, fluid movement. It didn't spin in midair because of its perfect balance and landed with a thunk in the dark wood of the table, perfectly in the space between his fingers.
Tony blinked in surprise for a second before commenting, "Well, that was fast, but I think it could be quicker next time." I rolled my eyes at his teasing and he handed the dagger to Banner, who examined it.
"Where did you get this?" He asked. "Vibranium is the rarest metal on earth."
"I know some people." He didn't press any further, which I was thankful for.
Fury rose from his seat. "At 1:00 this afternoon we'll test your fighting, Quinn. Be ready." He stalked towards the door, then turned back to us. "Rogers, I'm assigning you to keep a watch on the new recruit." His eye drifted towards me. "I'm not a very trusting person, and I still have many unanswered questions." Then he left.
Oh, this is just fantastic. He gives me a babysitter, but it has to be the one person on the team who is the most lethal to me.
There was a tense silence that hung in the air before Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff rose and left the room. On her way to the door, Romanoff gave me a calculating and suspicious look. Soon after, Banner left the room too, giving a small nod towards me, as did Thor before he exited. Stark picked up my dagger which was lying on the table.
"How do you throw this thing, anyway?"
I snorted. "Better not try, you'll probably end up hurting someone."
Giving me a roguish smile he said, "You'll have to teach me." He handed me the dagger, and I slid it back in my belt.
"Yeah, teach you how to dodge knives." I muttered as Stark strolled out of the room. Rogers was waiting for me by the door.
"This way." He said. "Your room is next to mine."
He led me to the elevator, which I grudgingly entered, and Steve pressed the 10th floor button. The elevator began its descent downwards. By looking at the elevator buttons, I could tell that floor 0 was the main control room, and then every level below that was numbered from 1 to 20, 20 being the lowest level, most likely in an underground passageway. I was sure that there were more floors in this building that were kept secret.
"Fury has Avengers posted around the whole building in case of security breaches. Stark is on the top floor, Banner is in another building close to here as is Thor, and Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov are closer to some of the more confidential things."
The elevator came to a halt at floor 6, and the doors slid open as someone stepped in. A tall man with graying hair and a regal appearance entered the elevator with us and pressed Floor 8. A light scar trailed down the side of his cheek.
"Quinn, this is Vincent Crowe, the head of the research department." Steve said.
"Hello, there." Crowe gave a tight lipped smile which looked more like a sneer. At the sound of his voice, I instantly tensed. I've seen this man before, heard his voice. A feeling of deja vu washed over me as I studied the man standing next to me. My hand twitched towards my dagger but I refrained.
Crowe extended his hand for me to shake but I ignored it. Vincent Crowe, Vincent Crowe. Where have I heard that name before? He put his hand down and wiped it on his black suit jacket as the doors opened with a ding. He strolled off and smiled at me, looking like a wolf that has sought out its prey.
"It was nice to meet you." He said in his chilling voice and smirked as if he were making a joke. The doors closed and we continued our descent into the underground layers of the building.
"Something wrong?" Steve asked, his eyebrows raised in question.
"I...there's something not right about Vincent Crowe."
There was a small ding and the doors slid open smoothly.
As we exited the elevator, Rogers sent me a quick glance, thinking. His expression told me that he had the same suspicions as I.
We traipsed down a gray, concrete hallway, mostly devoid of doors, until we came to a set of shiny metal doors which were side by side.
"Your room is on the right. I'll come get you at 12:30 to take you to the training center. Here's your room key." Steve pulled a small, thin, silvery card out of his back pocket. "Use this to get into your room." He looked like he wanted to say something more, then quickly decided against it. "Have a good night."
I slid the cool, metal card into a slot beside the door and it slid open. I stepped inside, my boots meeting plush, cream carpet. A soft cluck told me that the door closed behind me. The walls were a gray blue, and a full size bed sat in the center of the far wall, simple with plain white sheets and bedding. A door led to the left where I guessed a small bathroom was. The room was small but comfortable, perfect for accommodating one.
My duffel bag was placed neatly on the end of the bed. I grabbed a change of clothes and stepped into the bathroom. It consisted of the same color of walls as the bedroom, a small shower, a sink, toilet, and a mirror. I quickly undressed and showered, the hot water streaming over my body but not warming the permanent chill that had settled deep inside of me, in my bones.
I stepped out after lathering my long hair and wrapped myself in a white towel, then proceeded to prepare myself for bed. I quickly got dressed into some dark skinny jeans and a loose, gray T-shirt because I didn't want to bother with having to dress in the morning. After that, I brushed my teeth with a brand-new toothbrush I found in the sink cabinet. After spitting out the foamy toothpaste into the sink, I looked up at the girl in the mirror.
Her dark hair framed her pale skin, making her seem haunting. Dark circles rimmed her piercing silver eyes, and she was thin with slightly hollow cheeks. I turned away from my reflection, scowling. I don't have time to think about my appearance, even if I do look sleep deprived and malnourished. I have other things to focus on, mainly killing the bastard known as my father.
I walked back into the bedroom, picking up my clothes on the way. I placed my Phantom clothes close to the bed so I could get ready quickly if the need arose. I attached my dagger belt under my shirt and made sure both of the daggers were in their places. Sighing, I then slid under the cool white covers after turning the lights off. I stared at the ceiling, mildly wondering what horrors awaited me in my dreams tonight, which dark memories I would be forced to relive. My eyes fluttered closed.