The Secret Rebellion (Book 3 in The Secret Series)

Chapter 5: The Weapon Room

Chapter 5: The Weapon Room

“No.”

“But what about this-”

“No,” I repeated firmly, glaring at the unfortunate S.H.I.E.L.D agent, who put the little gun in her hands back on the shelf quickly.

She ran a hand through her short black hair in exasperation and gave Steve a pleading look. Steve stepped in.

“Eldrid, come on, just pick something – there’s bound to be something in here that you want,” he said beseechingly, gesturing at the room bursting with deadly technology with fake enthusiasm. I hadn’t missed the fact that when we’d walked into the Weapon Room ten minutes ago he’d regarded the place with faint disgust, despite being a soldier.

“I don’t need a weapon – I’m dangerous enough as I am,” I said matter-of-factly, and he sighed.

“Director Fury won’t be happy if you go unarmed. The world’s a much more dangerous place now that Hela and Loki are in control.”

“I’m an Asgardian – I’ll be fine.”

“Look, I’ve got a couple of things I need to do before we go – meet me on the flight deck when you’re done,” Steve said finally, and left me with the agent, who looked slightly nervous at being left alone with me.

“Go have a look around – I’m sure something will catch your eye,” she said half-hopingly, sitting lightly at her desk, and watching me with sharp eyes as I reluctantly began to walk down the aisles.

The huge room reminded me vaguely of a supermarket, except instead of food on the shelves, there were weapons, most of which were capable of mass destruction. My nose wrinkled slightly as I regarded one particularly large gun, which was simply labelled ‘The Incinerator’.

“Where do you get these weapons?” I asked the agent, looking back at her.

“We don’t ‘get’ them – most are created by the S.H.I.E.L.D scientists,” she replied mildly, and I frowned.

“You make these? That seems quite … dark for a government agency.”

“You think these are ‘dark’? You should see the other weapon room.” She snorted, and I turned away again.

“Now I can understand why no one trusts S.H.I.E.L.D,” I muttered to myself, starting my tour of the room off again.

Ten minutes later, something finally caught my eye.

Reaching out, I gently clasped the elegantly twisted black hilt of a long, thin sword. Almost in reverence, I pulled the blade out of its sheath, the metal glimmering in the light.

“That’s a good sword.”

I flinched involuntarily, and scowled at the agent.

“It’s not the best idea to sneak up on someone who’s holding a sword…” I told her, raising an eyebrow, and she gave me a dry look before glancing back at the blade in my hands.

“It used to belong to Deadpool – a mutant who had exceptional swordsmanship,” she explained, and I put the sword back on the shelf hastily.

“’Had’?”

“We don’t know where he is, which means the sword is up for grabs,” she said, clearly hinting that I should take it, and I shook my head.

“I don’t use swords that aren’t Asgardian-make. There’s nothing I want here – can I go now?”

The agent sighed wearily, and I followed her back to the desk.

Sitting back down on the office chair, she pulled out a small cell phone from the drawer and waved me away with a look of regret on her face.