With a resounding crack, Arthur and Vers materialized in the dusty expanse of the Mojave Desert. The barren landscape stretched around them, empty save for a lone establishnt in the distance—Pancho’s Bar, its neon sign flickering weakly against the harsh sunlight.
Arthur had cast a Disillusionnt Charm on both of them before apparating. After confirming no one was around to witness their sudden appearance, he waved his hand to remove the charm, making them visible once more.
Vers doubled over, hands on her knees, taking deep breaths as her body adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation of magical transportation.
"What the hell was that?" she gasped, looking distinctly green around the edges.
"Apparition," Arthur replied casually, as though they’d rely stepped off a bus. "Magical teleportation. Quite handy for avoiding traffic, innit? Gets you where you need to go in a jiffy."
"You should have warned ," Vers growled, straightening up slowly. "I’ve flown spaceships and gone through space jumps, but that was..." she shuddered, "sothing else entirely."
Arthur’s lips curled into that irritating smile she was beginning to recognize. "Where would have been the fun in that? Your face was absolutely priceless. Worth the trip alone, I’d say."
Vers shot him a withering look. "Is everything a joke to you?"
"Not everything," Arthur replied, his expression shifting to sothing more serious for a mont. "But life’s too short not to enjoy the little monts of discomfort... in others, preferably. Bit of a character flaw, I suppose."
"You’re insufferable," Vers muttered, turning her attention to the bar. Its weathered exterior spoke of decades under the desert sun, the parking lot half-filled with dust-covered vehicles and motorcycles.
"That’s it?" she asked skeptically. "Doesn’t look like much."
"Places rarely do," Arthur replied. "But appearances can be bloody deceiving. Rather like yourself, I’d wager."
Vers paused, studying him with narrowed eyes. "What’s that supposed to an?"
Arthur shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief and sothing deeper. "I feel that you’re proper strong. Way beyond my league, if I’m honest. Sothing’s limiting your power, and when that limiter’s gone, most people in this universe won’t stand a chance against you, much less the current ."
Vers’s hand unconsciously went to the Kree implant on her neck but stopped. Why should she believe the words of soone she had t only a few hours ago? Removing the implant wasn’t safe—her commanders had made that abundantly clear.
"You don’t know what you’re talking about," she said curtly, turning and striding purposefully towards the bar entrance, deliberately ignoring the thoughtful, slightly challenging smile playing on ’rlin’s’ face.
Arthur followed, amused. He’d planted the seed. Let her work it out. Now he was more eager to confront a certain SHIELD agent who should have tracked them here.
Inside, the establishnt was exactly what one would expect from a remote desert watering hole—worn wooden tables, the sll of stale beer, and a collection of patrons who looked like they’d been perched on the sa barstools for decades. Faded photographs and morabilia adorned the walls, each telling its own story of the bar’s history.
Vers paused as she entered, her gaze drawn to the wall of photographs. A strange sensation washed over her—not quite recognition, but sothing close to it. Fragnts of mories, like shadows just beyond her reach.
"Oh, new mories surfacing, are they?" Arthur remarked, watching her reaction with interest. "Rather proves I’m right, doesn’t it?"
But Vers, lost in her thoughts, ignored him and moved closer to the photographs, particularly one showing a fighter jet.
"What can I get ya?" the bartender asked gruffly from behind the counter.
"Where was this photograph taken?" she asked, ignoring his question and pointing at the photo of the jet.
"An airport," he replied dismissively, already turning away to serve another custor.
"Where’s Pegasus?" Vers pressed, the na feeling significant though she couldn’t articulate why.
A familiar voice answered from behind her. "That’s classified."
Vers turned to find Nick Fury seated at a small table in the corner, watching her with undisguised interest. "Not unlike the file I started on you," he continued, gesturing for her to join him.
As she slid into the seat opposite him, Fury gave her new attire an appraising look. "But I see you’ve changed it up a bit since then. Grunge is a good look for you." His gaze shifted to Arthur. "Who’s your friend? Didn’t think you were the type to pick up strays. Another off-worlder?"
Arthur stepped forward before Vers could respond. "Pure earthling, mate. Just playing tour guide for our confused alien visitor here. Showing her the local hotspots. Been a right adventure so far."
Fury’s eyebrow raised slightly at Arthur’s accent. "Right. ’Tour guide’. I’ll get to you later. Got more pressing matters at the mont."
"Did you have a rough day, Agent Fury?" Vers asked, noting his disheveled appearance.
Fury shrugged nonchalantly. "It was cool, you know? Had a space invasion, big car chase. Got to watch an alien autopsy. Typical nine-to-five."
Vers leaned forward, suddenly alert. "So you saw one?"
"I was never one to believe in aliens," Fury admitted, his expression sobering, "but I can’t unsee that."
"This is gonna get a little awkward," Vers said, studying him intently, "but I gotta ask."
"You think I’m one of those green things," Fury replied, not a question but a statent.
"Can’t be too careful."
Fury gestured to himself. "You are looking at 100% red-blooded Earth man."
"I’m afraid I’m gonna need proof," Vers insisted.
"We talking cheek swab or urine sample?" Fury asked dryly.
"No. The DNA would match."
"Want my AOL password?" Fury offered sarcastically.
"Skrulls can only sim recent mories of their host bodies," Vers explained patiently.
"Oh, oh." Fury leaned back, understanding dawning. "You wanna get personal."
They settled more comfortably at the table, Arthur pulling up a chair to observe the impromptu interrogation with evident amusent.
"Where were you born?" she asked abruptly.
"Huntsville, Alabama. But technically, I don’t rember that part."
"Na of your first pet?"
"Mr. Snoofers."
"Mr. Snoofers?" Vers repeated skeptically.
"That’s what I said."
"Do I pass?"
"Not yet. First job?"
"Soldier. Straight out of high school. Left the ranks a full bird colonel."
"Then?"
"Spy."
"Where?"
"It was the Cold War. We were everywhere." Fury looked almost nostalgic. "Uh, Belfast. Bucharest. Belgrade. Budapest. I like the B’s. I can make them rhy."
"Now?"
"Been riding a desk for the past six years, trying to figure out where our future enemies are coming from." He gave her a pointed look. "Never occurred to they would be coming from above."
"Na a detail so bizarre a Skrull could never fabricate it," Vers demanded.
Fury considered this for a mont. "If toast is cut diagonally, I can’t eat it."
"You didn’t need that, did you?" Fury asked with a hint of amusent.
"No. No, I didn’t. But I enjoyed it," Vers replied with a small smile.
"Okay. Your turn. Prove you’re not a Skrull," Fury said, leaning back in his chair.
Without hesitation, Vers raised her fist, allowing it to glow with photon energy.
Fury remained unimpressed. "And how is that supposed to prove to you’re not a Skrull?"
"That’s a photon blast."
"And?"
"A Skrull can’t do that."
Arthur chuckled softly. When both turned their attention towards him, he cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Mind if I ask a few questions? Always wanted to know more about the secret spy world. The films make it all so bloody mysterious."
Fury gave him a flat look. "Negative, ’tour guide’. My job right now is assisting our... guest here. Being a gracious host and all."
"Oh, co on," Arthur pressed. "Just tell what this Strategic Holand Intervention, Enforcent, and Logistics Division is? Quite the mouthful. Never heard of it myself. Have heard of the CIA, FBI and even MI6 back ho, but never this new agency. Are you proper legit or is it so made-up departnt with a fancy acronym?"
"Classified," Fury stated firmly. "But speaking of questions, I have a few for you. How did you make friends with our alien companion?"
Arthur’s smile widened. "Classified. Two can play at that ga, Agent Fury. Bit rubbish when the tables are turned, isn’t it?"
Fury studied him for a long mont. The smug expression on Arthur’s face told him all he needed to know—this was soone who enjoyed being difficult, and he wouldn’t get any straight answers from him now. Still, he made a ntal note to have the agency run a background check later. No need to waste ti engaging with him here.
Fury turned back to Vers. "So, what’s our next move? Still looking for this Lawson woman?"
"Yes," Vers confird, refocusing on her mission. "She’s connected to sothing called Project Pegasus. Do you know where that is?"
Fury hesitated, then nodded. "It’s a military facility. I can take you there."
"Are you coming?" Vers asked Arthur, who seed lost in thought.
"Can I co?" Arthur asked, his expression suddenly innocent. "Promise I’ll be on my best behavior and all that."
Fury thought for a mont and, surprisingly, nodded. "Fine. But any funny business and you’re out." In truth, he was curious about this strange Brit and wanted to keep him where he could watch him.
As they rose to leave, Arthur suppressed a satisfied smile. He wondered how much SHIELD knew about the wizarding world. The current Fury was not as experienced and mysterious as the director he would beco in the future, so this was the perfect opportunity to extract so much-needed information.
This trip was going to be bloody exciting.
User Comments
0 comments from readers