Zachary Danvers-Stark is the adoptive son of Tony Stark, with a genius-level intellect and gifted powers. But his life will turn when he becomes a part of something, much, much bigger than himself.
All characters but Zach belong to Marvel Entertainm...
"Listen, I gotta fly home tonight because I have some constituency problems, and I gotta press the flesh."
Senator Stern, the very same senator who had awarded Medals of Honor to Tony, Zach and Rhodey just a few years prior, voiced to Jasper Sitwell, who walked with him, followed by men in black suits.
"Any constituent in particular, Mr. Senator?" Sitwell pondered to the old Senator.
"Uh... no, not really. 23, kinda hot." Stern bragged to the "SHIELD" Agent. "Real hot. You know, wants to be a reporter, I think. I don't know, who listens at that point?"
"Doesn't sound like much of a problem to me." Jasper smirked.
"Really?" Stern questioned with an identical smirk. "Cause she's killing my back. But, this isn't the place to talk about it." His eyes followed down to a SHIELD pin on Sitwell's suit jacket. "This is a nice pin.
"Thank you." Sitwell appreciated it with a false look, knowing neither of them liked it.
"Come here," Stern came close for a hug, but only to those around the two. As he came closer, he whispered in secret into his ear. "Hail HYDRA." After which, Stern let him go, but braced his knee as he walked. "See, it's right there."
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"I just saw that, yeah." Sitwell mentioned.
"Should I get it checked?"
"I think you should." Sitwell acknowledged, just as his phone began to ring in his pocket. As he took it off his person, he was surprised to see the caller ID read "Alexander Pierce".
"I need a minute. Bring the car around." Knowing his allegiances, Sitwell answered the call. "Yes, sir?"
But it wasn't Pierce on the other end.
"Agent Sitwell... how was lunch?" A completely unknown voice spoke to him. "I hear the crab cakes here are delicious."
Sitwell braced with a hint of fear. "Who is this?"
"The good looking guy in the sunglasses, your ten o'clock." Sitwell looked to the crowd, to what he believed was the direction he was told. "Your other ten o'clock." The voice corrected.
