Lost Control

Chapter 7

Hey. I'm back with the next chapter. I hope you like it!

Fury was stood at the head of the table in parade rest. He had a look of anger splashed across his feature but he didn't make a comment about it if Amadeus showed nearly ten minutes late. In fact, the look on his face could almost be described as understanding. It was going to be a long day.

"Would anyone like to tell me what happened and why I only found out about it half an hour ago?" Fury's single eye swept across the room, assessing each of the heroes in turn. He was anxious and annoyed. He should have found out yesterday and he still didn't know the entirety of what had happened.

The explanation came out in bit and pieces as people started, stopped and interrupted each other. Fury's frown seemingly deepened as apologies, excuses and explanation tumbled out but he didn't say a word- he got the impression that he would get a better picture if he didn't stop the explanation because attempts at bringing order usually just resulted in arguments (something that he picked up after spending so long working with teenagers). He was in a room full of overgrown children; there were a few actual children as well, however, they were being more mature than the so called 'adults'. The Avengers were testing his patience.

Each word said made Fury want to slam his head against a wall. Hard enough to knock himself out. It was fair enough for the Avengers to let the younger heroes lead but he just couldn't understand why they didn't intervene when two teams that worked well together were struggling. Why didn't anyone tell him about the ray? He could have sent agents to track the villain, the trail was probably cold by now. Idiots.

He understood why the teenagers, young, rebellious and desperate for an approval that they didn't have to earn, hadn't contacted him. They would have viewed it as admitting to failure or inviting questions about their incompetency. They, for some reason, hadn't yet learned that making a mistake once was not the same as never being able to win.

He didn't like it. He didn't have to like it. He could understand and, in his experience, understanding was all that was needed to eventually convince the teens to talk to him. It had already worked, to an extent. The young heroes would always try to solve a problem by themselves before asking for help and he could respect that. He always knew that any call from them was genuine and that they had at least done something by themselves first. At the same time, he also knew that they would always try to ask for help when they were out of their depth. It was a system that he wished some his adult agents would adopt.

When the Avengers' desire to talk finally waned Fury was exhausted. He let out a deep sigh as he looked around the room again. "What are you going do about all of this? Stark, it's your tower and I am trusting you to come up with a sensible solution."

"Yeah, I'm sorting it. Got some sound proofed rooms being converted into something liveable now. I've brainstormed a few ideas of where to start for whoever does the research, if you want it."

"Good. I'm leaving all of you to sort this mess out but I expect reports if anything changes. Please try to keep this out of the media. Dismissed." With that little speech still hanging in the air, Fury left the room, leaving it in silence. He had done what he could and what he thought was best, however, the lead brick in his stomach didn't shift and the pain in his soul did little to diminish. He couldn't help feeling responsible for the young heroes. The villain's capture and the cure's invention couldn't come fast enough.

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It took only a few hours for the sound proofed rooms to be prepared. All of the hypersensitive teens were let into the rooms and left to their silence. Natasha could feel a stirring of emotion, a emotion that she shoved as far back possible, when she caught sight of the teens. They all wore expressions of pain clearly on their faces and her heart clenched. These were children suffering, young and full of life. Although, that last thought ought to be amended- they barely looked alive at that moment. She secretly hated seeing people suffer, especially children. She was perfectly capable of extracting information through whatever means necessary, and yet, despite this, she hated it and only used the most extreme measures in the most extreme of cases.