Chapter Text
There’s a phenomenon called ‘auditory exclusion’-–in high stress situations, the brain filters out sounds it perceives as noise to allow it to focus on what’s important to survive. Rhodey’s heard people say that they don’t hear their own shots out in the field, only what’s going on around them, which, somehow, seems like utter bullshit. Then again, what would he know?
The gun in his hands was a lot quieter than the ones he was used to, but each gunshot was still a good 150 decibels, and louder to his ears, he knew, than they would be to any other human being. He wasn’t even wearing ear protection; it wasn’t as if hearing loss could ever be a problem for him.
But whatever the serum did to his ears, it did to his brain, too. He hears the gunshots perfectly, gunshots that should have drowned everything else in the room out, but he could also hear the director of the spy organization that dug him out enter the shooting range and lurk in the shadows by the door.
Enhanced senses were a funny thing.
He unloads the clip, all perfectly in the exact same spot just about an inch to the right of bullseye. Guns these days were a lot more precise, too. He reloads and goes another round before walking to the table behind him and starting to disassemble and clean his gun.
The Director walks out of the shadows, in what he probably hoped was some dramatic reveal. “We have people to do that, you know.”
Rhodey shrugs, not even looking at him. “It’s therapeutic.”
The Director places a folder on the table and then rotates it to face Rhodey.
“A mission?”
“A new start.” He opens the folder, which Rhodey still studiously ignores in favor of his gun, but of course he can read every word from his peripheral vision. Enhanced senses were a funny thing. “It’s all here. Same name, new background, nice little flat in DC. Take it and, if you want, SHIELD will leave you alone.”
Rhodey finally takes his eyes off his gun and looks at the Director, amused.
“Well, we’ll monitor you, but you’ll be free to do what you like, pursue your dreams, whatever.” The Director leans back and clasps his hands behind his back, his military bearing making it look more like parade rest. "The other option is you still take it, but you come work for us. You can even go to Sci-Tech, if you prefer. I hear you’re a brilliant engineer.”
“Not what you prefer, though?”
The Director stares at him levelly. “The world needs a Captain America.”
Captain America . The name brings a whole slew of memories that he came to the range to not deal with. “You sure you don’t mean a War Machine?”
The Director sighs and chooses a different tactic. “Did you know that it was Agent Joseph who recruited me?”
Rhodey’s robotic movements pause.
“My father, he was a soldier in the war, with the 761st Tank Battalion. Other kids had fables and fairy tales; well, I had my dad’s war stories. My favorite one, and his, too, was about how War Machine saved his unit from certain death. When I got into the CIA, I started digging into the US War Machine program, which led me to Project Rebirth and eventually, to Agent Joseph.
"She’s told me about you, Captain. How smart you are, and brave, and capable. How great a leader you are in the field. How good a man you are.”
Rhodey sets the partially-cleaned, now reassembled gun down on top of the folder. He leans closer and stares the Director down. “Then you know I don’t enjoy being used as a weapon.”
The Director breaks parade rest, the tension leaving his shoulders. He knew he had him. “I’m not going to lie to you, Captain. You’d still be working from the shadows. It’s what Agent Joseph founded SHIELD to do. There’ll be times when I can’t show you the whole picture.
“But the truth is we need you, Captain Rhodes. The man Agent Joseph had in mind when she founded SHIELD. Captain America, War Machine, it doesn’t matter. I need James Rhodes on my team.”
Rhodey leans back and suppresses a smile. “I know what you’re trying to do, Director.”
“Please, call me Fury.” He angles his head so his good eye is looking straight at Rhodey. Rhodey can’t tell if it’s supposed to be intimidating or if he just wants a closer read on him. “Is it working?”
“A little, yeah.” Rhodey moves the gun to the side, shuts the folder and slides in closer. “I’m in.”
“Excellent.” Fury pulls out a couple more folders from his coat and sets them down where Rhodey’s one was. On the cover of the top one, in bold letters under the SHIELD insignia, were the words 'The Avengers Initiative.’ “Then it’s time you meet your team.”