Rogue Replacement: A Marvel Story

Chapter 84 - Part 5

Arc 7 - Ch 1: Opening Morning

Date: Monday, August 29, 2011.

Location: SHIELD Facility, Times Square, Manhattan, New York

Steve Rogers stepped back inside the building. Logan was at his side, ready to help the man out of time adjust to this strange new world. Rogers' blue eyes were clouded with uncertainty as he still struggled to accept the reality that everyone and everything he had once known was gone. As the two men receded into the building, Director Nick Fury turned his sole eye on Tyson.

"So, you want to apply for the position of Captain America?" He asked, a hint of wry skepticism flavoring his words. "What are you planning to do with the shield? You've already got an unbreakable skeleton and a healing factor."

"Yeah, but that shield is pretty damn cool," he replied easily. "And wouldn't it be dope to have a black Captain America?"

Fury snorted, shaking his head. "Maybe one day, kid."

Tyson chuckled in response, but as the laughter faded, his expression shifted, growing serious. A shadow fell across his features, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and urgent.

"I've got a serious problem, Director."

Fury's eye focused intently on the young mutant standing before him. Tyson had been with SHIELD for months now and had very rarely asked anything of the Director. Clearly, the kid had built up enough credit to come to Fury for a favor, and Fury could tell by the set of Tyson's jaw that it was important.

"Talk to me," Fury commanded, though his tone remained open, ready to listen.

"Magneto, the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants, is coming for me again. He targeted me previously before you found me. I have reason to believe he intends to try capturing me once more."

Fury's expression hardened. Tactical scenarios were already running through his mind. "What are we up against?"

Tyson shook his head. "Nothing even your best could withstand. At a minimum, a metal manipulator, a shapeshifter, a super soldier, a pyrokinetic, and likely a speedster and telekinetic as well."

Fury whistled low in appreciation. "He's pulling out the big guns."

"His plan is simple," Tyson said tightly. "Take me, use me in a machine to forcibly mutate every human in a city."

Fury's eye widened in surprise before narrowing in thought. "If you know all this, I'm guessing you have a counterplan."

"I do. But if I fail and he captures me..." He trailed off, his voice heavy with implication. "Mutant hatred rises. And you've got a new city full of unwilling converted mutants."

Fury's eye narrowed, his voice lowering to match the gravity of the situation. "What are you proposing?"

"I have a plan to fight Magneto, but I need a contingency." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "Do you have a tracker you can inject into me? Something you can home in on if I'm captured?"

Fury's tactical mind raced through the possibilities, calculating risks. "Or we could relocate you," he suggested carefully, keeping his tone measured. "Get you out of the city, maybe out of the country."

But Tyson was already shaking his head. "It'll just delay the inevitable," he insisted. "It's been a year, and he hasn't stopped hunting me. He'll keep coming."

With a resigned sigh, Fury nodded, rubbing at his temples. "Alright. A subdermal tracker. We can do that." He pulled out a tablet, fingers tapping swiftly over the screen. "Anything else?"

"If I can't stop him, use the tracker." he said finally, voice low and grave, "instead of letting him turn a city into mutants... bomb wherever I am. Kill us both. Maybe my healing factor will let me survive."

"You're asking me to kill you," he said slowly.

Tyson nodded, his face set in hard, grim lines. Determination shone in his eyes, though his jaw was tight with tension. "If it comes to that, it might be the only way to stop him," he said solemnly.

Providing a subdermal tracker was one thing, but having a powerful bomb containing no metallic elements? That would take some doing. But he knew his team was up to the task. "We'll make it happen," Fury said, "But Tyson, I need you to understand the gravity of what you're asking here. If we do this, if we plant that tracker in you, and it comes down to it out there, we won't hesitate. We'll take the shot without a second thought."

Tyson swallowed hard. He knew with cold certainty that Magneto was coming for him. Unless Magneto had improved his machine, he would not only force an entire city's population into mutants but also kill every man, woman, and child in that city.

"I understand," Tyson said finally, "It's a risk I'm willing to take. Plus, there's a fair shot that with my healing, I'll survive"

Fury studied him for a long moment before replying. "We'll do everything in our power to make sure it doesn't come to that," he said solemnly, "But if it does... we'll be ready." Relief flickered across Tyson's features, and the tight set of his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. Fury held up a hand, cutting off his words. "It's what we do," he said simply, "We make the hard choices, the ones no one else can or will make. It's our duty."

Tyson's expression was somber. "There's one more thing," he said, his voice hesitant.

Fury curiously asked, "What is it?"

When Tyson spoke, his voice was tentative, almost apologetic. "I know this might not be possible. But I need to ask… I know she's undercover, but would it be possible to talk with Nat?"

Fury's expression softened infinitesimally as he understood. "Agent Romanoff's deep undercover," he rumbled, his tone low and grave. "It's not easy to get in touch with her without compromising her mission."

Tyson's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. "I understand," he said heavily, disappointment dragging at his words. "I just... I wanted to talk to her one last time. In case..." He trailed off, unable to voice the thought aloud. But Fury understood all too well, better than most.

Fury's smile transformed his normally intimidating countenance. "You speak Russian... right?" he asked in a tone that was almost playful.

— Rogue Redemption —

Natasha sat alone in the fading afternoon light of her spartan Moscow apartment. Shadows stretched across the single small bedroom as the sun sank below the horizon. She had lived in this nondescript Soviet-era apartment building for months now, embedded covertly on a mission for SHIELD. The living space contained only the bare essentials. A tiny kitchenette occupied one corner, furnished with a miniature refrigerator and dated two-burner stove. The bedroom had a lone twin bed pushed against one wall and a single wooden dresser on the opposite side. The only decor was a small potted plant resting on the windowsill, a splash of green in the otherwise colorless studio.

Natasha had just returned from a long day of surveillance. She had showered and put on simple black leggings and a tank top, tying her fiery red hair in a messy bun to keep it from getting wet.

Suddenly, her cell phone rang, shrill in the silence. Frowning, Natasha did not recognize the number on the screen. She hesitated briefly before answering, her voice cautious. "Hello?"

The voice responding in Russian was unmistakable.

It was Tyson.

Warmth blossomed in her chest at the sound.

"Are you alone?" he asked. "The line is secure."

"I'm alone," she confirmed, her chest tightening with foreboding. Gripping the countertop edge, her knuckles blanched white. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you. How are you doing?" She asked non-specifically. There were bugs in her apartment. Nothing sophisticated enough to pick up Tyson's end of the conversation, but if she said too much, she'd blow her cover.

Tyson's sigh came through the speaker, laden with weariness. "It's not looking good," he said. "Magneto is coming for me. Felicia was replaced by the shapeshifter Mystique. I don't know where the real Felicia is now. I think Magneto will attack tonight."

Frowning, Natasha tightened her grip on the countertop until the solid stone slab creaked under her fingers. "If I leave now..."

But before she finished the thought, Tyson interrupted, "No. You know the deal. We stick to the plan. I've been preparing for this."

A heavy silence settled over the line, filled with words left unsaid. Natasha felt a lump form in her throat as a sudden swell of emotion threatened to overwhelm her composure.

After a moment, Tyson softened his voice. "I just wanted to talk to you, to hear your voice, in case..." He trailed off, but Natasha understood the implication.

In case he didn't make it through the night.

Natasha's eyes stung with unshed tears. "There's so much I want to say, but…" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She wished she could tell him so many things, but she held back, keenly aware of the listening devices likely hidden throughout her apartment.

"Who knows who might be listening in your apartment," Tyson finished for her, understanding.

"Yeah," Natasha replied.

"Then I'll do all the talking," he said. "I miss you. The suite feels more like a home than ever now. Jubilee and Jean are living there with me. I missed my first class this morning because of... something I'm sure you'll hear about soon if you haven't already."

A lone tear slid down Natasha's cheek as she listened to Tyson ramble on. She wished she could see his face and read the emotions in his eyes, but for now, his voice would have to be enough.

"Speaking of Jubilee," Tyson continued, "things went well between us. I took your advice, and we talked things out. She still calls you my hot teacher." He paused, and Natasha could hear the amusement in his voice. "But graduation night took a turn for the weird. I found someone to teach me magic, and Jubilee's a vampire now. And I trapped a demon god's spirit inside my enchanted dagger... don't ask."

Natasha had to stifle a laugh. Trust Tyson to get caught up in such a mess. His rambling words betrayed his nerves despite the lighthearted tone. She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, focusing instead on the cadence of his voice.

"Oh yeah, vampires are real," he went on rapidly. "There's a vampire hunter named Blade. Black guy, flat top haircut, wears sunglasses and lots of leather. You'd probably get along. He's in Moscow hunting them right now. If you come across him, drop my name." he paused for a second to consider before requesting, "And if you see anyone really pale, with no hair, whose mouth opens wider than it should… Run. Don't try to fight them. I can't explain. Just trust me."

"I do," Natasha replied instantly, fiercely. "And I will." She trusted him with her life.

Tyson said with finality, "I love you."

Natasha felt a sudden rush of warmth spreading through her chest at Tyson's heartfelt words. She refused to let her voice crack as she answered.

"I know."

Tyson snorted in amusement. "Okay, Han. I see how it is."

"I can't believe I slept with that big of a nerd," he said, throwing Natasha's own lighthearted words back at her.

And then the line went dead.

Natasha stood there for a long moment, the phone still pressing to her ear. A sense of emptiness and loss threatened to overwhelm her. She had grown to care for this man over their time together, and now he was gone, maybe forever. Squeezing her eyes shut against the pain, she slowly lowered the phone from her ear. Her hand tightened on the countertop until the unyielding stone cracked and crumbled into chunks under her strength. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she straightened her shoulders and hardened her resolve. She would carry on as she always had. Her duty came before her personal feelings, no matter the cost. Her life was defined by secrecy and fraught with danger. Though the work isolated her from the scant few she held dear, it remained her calling.

She and Tyson had agreed that she needed to stay on her path.

So she would continue walking it, even if it led to the future he told her about. Though now her death from falling off a cliff seemed… laughably impossible. But if it came to that, she would let it happen.

With that silent vow, Natasha straightened her posture. Out there, she knew Tyson had his own battle to fight. She would do whatever was necessary to safeguard the world. Her commitment to their cause was absolute.

Tyson's face grew somber as he handed the cell phone back to Fury. A thick swell of emotion constricted his voice as he said, "Thank you for that, sir. It meant a lot to speak with her, just in case..." He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavily between them. Fury gave a curt nod.

Deputy Director Maria Hill stepped forward briskly, holding a device resembling a high-tech tattoo gun. "Hold out your arm," she instructed.

Tyson complied, rolling up his sleeve to expose his forearm. He barely flinched as the needle pierced his skin, injecting a tiny subdermal transmitter just beneath the surface.

"You'll feel a slight pinch," Hill warned, a moment too late.

As she worked, Fury explained, "It's a microtransmitter. If you're captured and taken somewhere, we'll know about it. We'll monitor your progress over the next several days."

"Understood, sir."

Tyson watched with resignation as a small, metallic shape wriggled under the skin of his forearm. With a wet popping sound, the subdermal transmitter ejected itself from his flesh.

"Healing factor," he explained simply, plucking the micro transmitter from where it had fallen. "Thought that might happen. My body treats anything foreign like an infection, pushing it back out. But if I swallow it..." He popped the tiny mechanism into his mouth with a grimace. It tasted of metal and salt. "It'll have to pass through my whole digestive tract. It should still transmit for the next twenty-four hours before it... passes."

Deputy Director Maria Hill arched an eyebrow. "That's not how those devices are meant to be utilized," she commented dryly, too late.

Tyson shrugged. The transmitter would serve its purpose for the night.

Fury studied the young mutant with something akin to respect. "Agent Mirage," he said, the codename rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement. "Seems you always find yourself chest-deep in weird shit."

"It's my specialty, sir," Tyson replied, a touch of humor lightening his tone.

With a final nod to the Directors, he walked to Maki, who was waiting faithfully at the curb inside the idling black sedan.

Tyson slid into the backseat, glimpsing the time as Maki pulled smoothly out into the bustling traffic. There was just enough time to make his introductory biology class before lunch. The SHIELD building in Times Square wasn't far from Empire State University's main campus, which was clustered near the Empire State Building itself. The lecture hall was in a stately old building on 31st Street, mere blocks from the towering city landmark.

As they wove between honking taxis and jaywalking pedestrians, Tyson felt a leaden sense of trepidation settle in his gut. Magneto was coming for him. He had his plans and his contingency set. The show wouldn't be until this evening, and if he returned to House of M now, it gave a larger window for the Brotherhood to attack.

He'd attend at least one class today. He pulled out his phone and texted Jubilee and Jean a location for lunch.

For now, at least, he would live his life.