Marvelous Mutations

Nick Fury didn't actually return to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters directly.

Just minutes after leaving Luke's grocery store, the low rumble of a motorcycle grew louder behind him. Captain America skidded to a halt in front of him.

Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff had both received urgent messages from Maria Hill and already knew what had happened at S.H.I.E.L.D.

They'd split up.

Natasha headed straight to the remains of headquarters.

Steve had come toward the grocery store, but, truth be told, he was still a little uneasy around Luke Yale. Their first encounter had left a lasting impression… mostly of awe and unease.

Luckily, he ran into Nick Fury along the way. The two men hadn't seen each other in a while, and the sight of each other was oddly comforting.

Without another word, Steve offered Fury a ride. The motorbike roared to life, and they sped off.

Soon, they arrived at what once had been S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

Now it was just rubble.

Chunks of reinforced concrete lay everywhere. The once-mighty bastion of covert operations was a shattered husk.

The devastation was total.

Hundreds of Hydra agents had been crushed under the weight of the collapsing building. A few limbs, bloodied and limp, could be seen jutting from the debris in grotesque stillness.

Off in the distance, two helicarriers that had failed to launch in time lay crumpled on the ground like discarded toys. The damage was so extensive that repairing them would be pointless. It'd be easier to start from scratch.

Nick Fury stood silently before the wreckage, his hands clenched behind his back. A heavy weight settled on his shoulders.

This wasn't just a tactical loss.

It was personal.

This mess was his responsibility.

His memory drifted back to when he first took over S.H.I.E.L.D., or as it was originally named: the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.

God, that name had been a disaster to fit on business cards.

He turned slightly toward Steve and gave him a weak smile, tired and hollow.

"I should've come to you first," Fury muttered. "Back when things started falling apart."

Steve frowned. "What changed your mind?"

Fury shook his head. "I don't know. I went to the grocery store instead. Maybe I thought Luke could fix it faster. Or maybe I just… didn't want to drag you into this."

Now, looking at the ruins, he regretted that choice.

He wasn't sure where to even begin rebuilding, assuming rebuilding was even possible. Should they rebuild on the same site? Relocate? Start a new organization entirely?

There were no answers. Only the crushing silence of failure.

Just then, Clint Barton and Phil Coulson arrived at the scene, stepping quietly over the rubble, their faces grim. Behind them came a familiar figure, Dr. Bruce Banner.

Bruce had been off-grid since the Battle of New York, keeping a low profile. But over time, he'd started to rejoin the group. With General Ross out of the picture, his death still unknown to Bruce, his life had actually been peaceful for once.

Now, the core members of the Avengers were almost all present.

Almost.

Thor, of course, was off-world. And he wouldn't return just for the fall of a human spy agency.

Tony Stark was another story.

He wasn't here because he was chasing ghosts, literally.

Happy Hogan, his long-time friend and bodyguard, had been seriously injured in an explosion. The blast came out of nowhere, leaving no trace of bombs or devices.

Only extreme heat and devastation.

Tony was obsessed with finding out who was behind it. And he had a dark feeling this wasn't an isolated case.

…

Meanwhile, in a hidden warehouse far from civilization…

Aldrich Killian gritted his teeth as Maya Hansen injected another vial of Extremis into his arm.

This wasn't their old base. After Luke had found them and wrecked everything, Killian had relocated. Somewhere even more isolated, even harder to find.

He was sure Luke wouldn't find him again.

That confidence let him and Maya resume their research in peace.

This was Killian's fifth dose of Extremis already.

The first time, he'd injected himself out of spite after watching Luke do it so effortlessly. Since then, he'd been struggling with instability, too many side effects, too much heat buildup.

It was maddening.

Why did Luke suffer no side effects? No side effects, no re-injections, no chance of exploding.

Killian had become obsessed with this question.

He and Maya buried themselves in work, dissecting the formula, reverse-engineering every strand of DNA and protein signature. They were brilliant, and driven by envy.

Weeks later, they had finally created something new: a more stable version of Extremis. Not perfect like Luke's, but much better than the volatile early batches.

Killian could feel it, power growing in him like fire in his blood.

And so did his ambition.

Revenge burned behind his every breath.

Step one: destroy Tony Stark.

Step two: assassinate the President, then manipulate the Vice President into becoming his puppet.

Step three: bring down Luke Yale, the man who humiliated him.

All in due time.

But even now, Maya could sense something was wrong. She'd seen the signs, Killian wasn't just working on Extremis anymore.

He was preparing for war.

After injecting Killian with the latest version, she quietly slipped away from the lab. She had her doubts. She still cared, a little, for Tony Stark. And Luke's warning echoed in her mind: Leave Killian while you still can.

But she wasn't ready to abandon Extremis. It was too important. Too groundbreaking.

Still, she wanted no part in Killian's schemes. And Killian, for his part, didn't trust her. He kept her around only because he needed her.

That time was coming to an end.

As Maya boarded a plane bound for Stark's Malibu residence, her heart was conflicted, but she knew she had to speak to Tony.

Killian, meanwhile, watched her departure with cold eyes.

He knew where she was going.

He'd placed a tracker on her days ago. She thought she was clever, but he was always one step ahead.

Thanks to her, he now knew Tony Stark's exact location.

And it was time to act.

In the depths of the warehouse, Killian summoned his army.

Hundreds of men and women, each injected with varying doses of Extremis. Retired soldiers with lost limbs regrown by fire. Mercenaries enhanced into monsters. All loyal to him thanks to what he had given them.

Killian stepped onto a makeshift platform and raised his arms.

The crowd roared with heat and fury.

With one final word, he gave the command and his three-pronged assault began.

…