The Dark Assassin | Thor: The Dark World [2]

Chapter 18

"5 years ago, I had a heart attack and dropped right in the middle of my backswing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because, after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something 40 years in the army had never taught me--Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives, but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word 'vigilantes.'"

I sighed, folding my arms together as I sank further into the corner. My eyes scanned the room, doing a threat assessment.

The robot, the large, broad-shouldered man, and the redhead were on the top of my threat list, physically. In every other aspect, the creep with the mustache was at the top. The brunette in the chair next to the robot set me on edge, something about her warning me she was dangerous. The others in the room posed little threat to me, as they didn't have any weapons on them.

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" the redhead asked.

"How about 'dangerous?' What would you called a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?" A map of the world pulled up, little yellow dots appearing on several locations.

"New York," a video pulled up. A giant Chitauri Levathian chased after a blur in the sky as people screamed, running for their lives. A large, green monster leaped from building to building, the person recording the footage being crushed under the rubble shaken loose at it did so.

"Washington D.C.," the footage switched to three large floating carriers in the sky, firing at each other with guns. Smoke poured from a crash site in a large building made of three sections. One of the floating carriers crashing into the water below as it burned, sending water flooding the street and drowning those standing there.

"Sokovia," people running around in a panic, trying to escape something. A chunk of land with a city perched on top floating into the air, held together by some sort of blue energy core. A building, toppling over and crumbling to pieces, killing those still stuck inside.

"Lagos," smoke pluming from a building, sirens wailing as emergency responders pulled people and bodies out of the rubble, covering them in yellow bags. A young woman, dead as she laid in the rubble, dust coating her hair and clothes. 

 "Okay. That's enough," but Mr. Mustache wasn't done.

"Harudheen," my throat tightened, my hands curling into fists as more footage pulled up. Stark white and padded walls, stark white furniture, a mirror forming one wall. This was footage of my cell.

A girl, with a curtain of long black hair, stood in the middle of the room, head tilted down to hide her face. The door clicked open, a dozen guards filing in. "Rosi," the guards formed a circle around the girl as her muscles tensed. She pulled a small knife from in her jacket, swiping the neck of one of the guards and avoiding a stab to the stomach, grabbing the spear and shoving it into her attacker. The girl grabbed another spear, twisting it out of someone's grasp and stabbing another in the stomach, pulling it out and killing another. Eight guards remained.

She snapped the handle of the spear, tossing the knife into someone's neck and slicing another's stomach open. She pulled a bow out of her jacket, nocking an arrow before sending it into someone's heart. Another got an arrow to the head, another to the neck. One guard remained.

She tossed her weapons to the ground, circling her opponent. Lunging, she snapped the shaft of the spear, making him toss the handle aside. He jabbed at her stomach, but she lurched to the side. He aimed a fist at her face, but she caught it and twisted it behind him. She wrapped her arms around his head, staring at the mirror.

Her hands jerked his head to the side, a crack echoing through the air as his neck snapped and he fell to the ground.

"For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power...and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution. The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private operation. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel...only when and if the panel deems it necessary,"

"The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we've done that," someone argued.

My eyes scanned the others. Various levels of unrest coated their faces, the redhead being the least fazed.

 "Tell me, captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now? If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes, you can bet there'd be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground," 

"So, there are contingencies?" a dark-skinned man asked, pressing his fingertips against the thick packet of paper containing the shackles of supervision.

"Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over,"

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" the redhead asked. 

"Then you retire,"