Green Beret | MCU (On Hold)

CHAPTER 5

Troy had changed into a clean set of fatigues, the lines of his uniform sharp, but his expression was distant—stunned and heavy with grief. He followed Fury into the briefing room with Steve and Tony, the silence between them saying more than words ever could.

Fury stood at the head of the table, his one eye scanning them with the intensity of a man burdened by too many losses. He tossed a bloodied set of trading cards onto the table in front of Steve.

"These were in Phil Coulson's jacket. Guess he never did get you to sign them."

Steve stared at the bloodstains but picked up the cards regardless. Troy swallowed hard, remembering the photo Coulson had insisted on taking with him, now a keepsake he wished he didn't have.

Fury stepped closer, voice grim and steady.

"We're dead in the air up here. No communications, no location of the Cube. Banner, Thor... I got nothing for you. I lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming." He paused, letting the silence stretch. "Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number, though, because I was playing something even riskier."

Troy looked up, sensing the shift in tone.

"There was an idea..." Fury began.

Troy glanced at Steve, and then Tony. They all knew the line—it was the beginning of something bigger.

"...Stark knows this, called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could."

Troy's jaw clenched as Fury's voice grew heavier.

"Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea. In heroes."

At that, Tony pushed back from the table and walked off, not saying a word.

Fury looked after him, then turned back with a shrug.

"Well, it's an old-fashioned notion."

▪️

Later, Steve and Troy made their way down the corridor, footsteps echoing softly. They found Tony alone, staring into the empty glass cell that had once held Loki.

"Was he married?" Steve asked quietly.

"No. There was a... cellist, I think."

Troy's eyes lingered on a smear of dried blood. "I'm sorry. He seemed like a good man."

"He was an idiot." Tony's voice cut sharply through the stillness.

Steve blinked. "Why? For believing?"

Troy tensed, unsure where Tony was going with this.

"For taking on Loki alone."

Troy frowned. "He fulfilled his duty, Tony. Regardless of the risks. He knew what he was doing."

"He was out of his league. He should have waited. He should have..." Tony trailed off, and Troy recognized the look. Grief. Guilt. The stubborn kind that wrapped around a man's throat like a noose.

"Sometimes there isn't a way out, Tony," Steve said evenly.

"Right. How did that work for him?"

"Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?"

The silence that followed said more than either Troy or Steve could. They weren't here as soldiers—but today, they had to be.

Tony spun to face them both.

"WE ARE NOT SOLDIERS! I am not marching to Fury's fife!"

Troy held up a hand, his tone calm. "Neither are we. But that doesn't change the fact that we've got a job to do. Fury's made mistakes, sure. But Loki's out there, and he's not waiting for us to sort out our personal baggage."

"He made it personal," Tony muttered.

Steve crossed his arms. "That's not the point."

Tony's eyes snapped up. "No, no. He hit us all right where we live. Why?"

Troy tilted his head. "To divide us?"

"To tear us apart."

Steve nodded slowly. "Yeah, divide and conquer is great strategy."

Tony paced, thoughts quickening, "He knows he has to take us out to win, right? That's what he wants. He wants to beat us, and he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience."

Troy stepped closer, understanding dawning on him. He exchanged a look with Tony, both of their eyes widening.

"Right, I caught his act in Stuttgart."

"Yeah, that was just a preview. This is opening night. And Loki... he's a full-tilt diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades. He wants a monument built in the skies with his name plastered—"

They both stopped, realization hitting them like a freight train.

"Sonofabitch!"

Tony sprinted off in one direction. Steve and Troy took the other, their mission suddenly crystal clear.

▪️

Steve had suited up in full uniform. Troy wore tactical gear now—bulletproof vest, twin thigh holsters, an assault rifle slung across his chest. They met Natasha in the medical bay.

"Time to go," Steve said curtly.

"Go where?" Natasha asked, caught off guard.

Troy stepped forward. "We'll explain on the way. We need a pilot for one of the jets. Can you—?"

Before he could finish, Clint Barton stepped out from a side room, drying his hands on a towel. He looked at them all with a steady gaze.

"I can."

Steve and Troy exchanged a look with Natasha, who gave a small nod of reassurance.

"Are you sure?" Troy asked her softly.

She nodded again.

"Do you have a suit?" Steve asked Barton.

"Yeah."

"Then suit up."

Edited.