Chapter Text
“Sir, surely you could ask someone else?”
Agent Phillip Coulson was beyond exhausted. Between insufficient intel, poor communication with local authorities, and two of his best operatives lying in the I.C.U., it was safe to say that he was having a bad day. Now he was pacing the small observation room in the S.H.I.E.L.D. training facility, watching a eighteen-year-old girl take on a trainer three times her size.
"I wasn't asking." Nick Fury replied flatly.
He kept his focus ahead as he handed Coulson a thick file with the girl's picture on it. Coulson accepted it begrudgingly and flipped it open. He quickly skimmed through the first few paragraphs, medical records, a fake birth certificate, and notes on her possible parentage that he dismissed. The rest of the file seemed to be incident reports, ranging from old police reports to the most recent surveillance memos, and there were a lot of them.
“All this for her?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but Fury gave him a pointed look anyway. “I mean, it just seems … she’s so young.”
“Never judge a book by its cover Coulson,” Fury sighed as he returned his attention to the window, “I learned that one the hard way.”
If Coulson saw the way Fury's hand reflexively went to his left eye before he corrected it to lean against the bulletproof glass, he didn't say anything. He instead focused his attention on the girl, who was now flanked by two new trainers. She was holding her own, but he knew both of them personally and had the scar tissue to prove it. They watched her for a while in silence, long enough for the girl to bust Brenner’s lip and receive a swift gut kick as payback.
“Thoughts?” Fury prompted after a few minutes.
"Kowalski and Brenner are holding back," Coulson replied coolly, as he witnessed the girl fall to the mats again, "they know what she can do."
“And you would do what exactly?” Fury asked without taking his gaze from the glass.
"If she can replicate what happened in Jackson?" He mused as she got back up with renewed energy and socked Kowalski in the jaw. "I'd want to see what her limits are, Sir."
“And that’s why it had to be you,” Fury hummed in agreement before pressing a button on the left of the glass. “You think like me.”
A metallic scraping sound was the only indication that the button worked. Coulson began to wonder if he'd imagined it before a volley of thin projectiles rocketed towards the three figures. The two trainers were quick to pivot out of the way, but the girl just threw her arms up to block her face. Coulson was sure they would skewer her, until a solid wall of steel emerged from the floor in front of her. The projectiles bounced harmlessly off the metal shield, each landing with a dull thud onto the mats.
The girl was fine, well unharmed may have been a better word. Her breathing was becoming erratic as the metal slowly lowered and melded seamlessly back into place. Now that he'd seen her in action, the other trainers' restraint made more sense. Coulson couldn't help but grin as he watched Kowalski take a reflexive step back into Brenner, who had gone dangerously pale.
“Well…” Fury sighed as he turned and made his way to the door, “I’d say that’s a start.”
Coulson was left alone with his thoughts as he returned his attention to the glass. The trainers had left the room, and the girl had gone to her knees on the mats. If it had been anyone else, they would’ve walked away right then. But Phillip J. Coulson wasn’t just anyone. So, he squared his shoulders and pressed another button on the wall panel. A small portion of the wall to his right opened, revealing the training room floor. He walked over to the girl in silence, partially out of caution but also curious to see how she would react. When she didn’t look up, he bent at the knees until they were eye level.
"What's your name, kid?" He asked evenly.
“You’ve got my file, should be in there somewhere.” She replied in a lilting southern accent; it carried a sharp bite that Coulson couldn't help but admire given her current circumstances.
"True, but I prefer the human approach when it comes to my people." She balked at his statement and finally raised her head to meet his searching gaze.
"I sent two of your 'People' to the hospital," She replied shakily as she slowly stood to her full height, "and now that I've passed your tests you think that makes us pals? They've sent you in here to give me the company sales pitch. Well whatever you and your friends upstairs are sellin, I ain’t buyin it.”
He copied her movement slowly and took a moment to analyze her up close. He could see why some had dismissed her as just another angry teenager. She was all of five feet tall with an athletic build, shoulder-length sandy blonde hair and a heart-shaped face complete with a sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks. But Coulson saw something he liked in her pale green eyes, the same fire he'd seen in his own reflection when he was her age.
"My name is Phillip Coulson, and I am an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.," He said as he smiled and held out his hand, "and I'm not selling anything. I’ve come with a onetime offer.”
“Sure, Phil,” She sighed as she took a step back to size him up, “some guy shows up at your door in a pressed suit? Whether its religion or a vacuum, he’s sellin somethin. So, I've passed all your tests. They sent you in here to talk, so let's cut the bullshit and get serious. I'm not joining the army, and I'm not submitting to government testing. And if you try to force me? Let's say it won't go your way. I'll bust out of here before you can call security."
“Then why haven’t you?” He prodded as he let his hand fall back to his side. She stared blankly at him before quirking an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Why haven’t you escaped yet?” He repeated as he cracked open her file, he could see her flinch in his peripheral. “You’ve run from five foster homes, two shelters, and escaped police custody countless times. So, what’s stopping you now?”
"Maybe I was just biding my time." She suggested with a small shrug. "Or maybe I'm just waiting to see how far this goes before ya’ll decide I’m not worth it.”
"Well, you've more than proved your worth, and that's before you factor in your unique abilities." She scoffed at the compliment and looked away.
“So, if I’m worth your time, maybe I could at least hear you out. But like I said, I’m not agreein to anything until I see the fine print. So, what’s your offer?”
“I'm offering you a choice. Join my team and have a say in who you become or go back and let the system keep telling you who they think you are." With that, he offered his hand again.
She studied him for a few beats, most likely trying to read his intentions. He couldn't blame her for being overly cautious. After being ripped out of her hellish reality and drug through every mental and physical test S.H.I.E.L.D. could think of, he would be a little paranoid too. She must have found what she was searching for in his eyes because she sighed and shook her head.
“Soren ... Sorenthia Jean Smith,” She said softly as their hands met, "at least that's what's on my authentic, not forged birth certificate."
"Nice to meet you, Soren. Welcome to the family." And for the first time since they had brought her in, she smiled.
Six Years Later
In the time she had known him, Soren had never seen Coulson so much as flinch when around important people. Not when meeting foreign dignitaries, not when being dressed down by Director Fury, not even that time they had to shadow Tony Stark for a week. So, she was finding it very difficult to hide her massive grin as she watched her mentor fumble over his words like a teenager with a crush.
"May I say again how honored I was to meet you, Sir, uh … Captain." Coulson professed as he and another man exited the small aircraft that had just touched down on the Helicarrier.
The other man wasn't in a uniform, his brown leather jacket and plaid shirt made for an unusual sight compared to the uniformed soldiers running around. He was at least a foot taller than Coulson and broader too, with thick blonde hair and a surprisingly young face for a ninety-year-old. But the way he carried himself, broad shoulders squared at attention, screamed military man.
“Oh, sorry, manners. Captain America, this is Agent Smith.” Coulson said, gesturing towards Soren and the now approaching Natasha. “And that will be Agent Romanoff. They’re some of the best operatives S.H.I.E.L.D. has seen in a while.”
“Thanks for talkin me up, Sir," Soren replied with a smirk as she put out her hand, "And it's nice to meet you in person, Captain Rogers. Well, officially, that is."
He took her offered hand and shook it lightly, his icy blue gaze flicking between her and Natasha before he focused on her again. They reminded her of a husky, bright, and full of untapped energy but also very sad. He looked like he wanted to say something, but his thoughts were interrupted by Natasha's arrival.
"Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers," Coulson said reverently.
"Ma'am." Steve nodded, and Soren could feel Natasha rolling her eyes as she sidled up next to the other woman.
"Hi," she replied coolly before focusing on Coulson, "they need you on the bridge. They're starting the face trace."
He seemed a bit deflated at the interruption, but he just nodded and headed to the elevator. Soren watched him go with an odd sense of foreboding brewing in her gut. She almost went after him when Natasha nudged her with her boot. That was one of their many small cues to hang back. Something was making her nervous.
"It was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice." Natasha started as the trio made their way across the Helicarrier. "I thought Coulson was going to swoon."
"Play nice, Nat." Soren replied with a smirk as she pulled ahead of them and began walking backward, "At least he hasn't asked you to sign his Captain America trading cards, has he?"
“Trading cards?” Steve repeated in disbelief.
"They're vintage; he's very proud." Natasha continued as her eyes locked onto their other special guest. An older man with a head full of dark curls and a worried expression was inspecting one of the planes ahead of them.
“Doctor Banner.” Steve called out, surprising the man as he approached with an outstretched hand.
"Oh yeah, hi." Bruce replied sheepishly as he accepted the handshake, "They told me you'd be coming."
"Word is you can find the cube," Steve said, keeping it strictly business.
“Is that the only word on me?” Bruce asked in an exasperated tone.
“The only word I care about.” Bruce seemed taken aback for a moment before smiling grimly and turning towards a group of training soldiers.
“Must be strange for you,” He tried as he nodded to the soldiers, “all this.”
"Well, this is actually kind of familiar," Steve replied wistfully before a voice came over the P.A. system calling for the crew to lock it down.
"Gentlemen, you might want to step inside in a minute," Natasha said as she turned on her heel and made for the nearest elevator.
“It’s gonna get a little hard to breathe," Soren added when the men began looking around confused. Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to shake.
“Is this a submarine?” Steve asked as the Helicarrier began to whir to life beneath them. He seemed in awe of the prospect. Bruce, however, was another story.
“Really? They want me in a submerged pressurized metal container?” He lamented as they both slowly approached the edge. As the propulsion jets roared to life, the carrier began its slow ascent.
“No, no. This is much worse.” When it seemed like the good Doctor was contemplating a swim, Soren stepped in and placed a reassuring hand on his arm.
"Let's get you inside, Doc."