Darkness was all he could really see. He had been in this room only a handful of times before, and each experience had been more uncomfortable than the last. A single spotlight casting down directly on him was the only illumination in the room, and it blinded him so that everything else was nearly just a dark blur.

He heard a door open on his right side and footsteps shuffle across the concrete floor. He knew it was six people altogether and he knew who they were and what they were going to do.

“If I may, gentlemen,” he began but one of the other people who had just entered the room cut him off.

“Quiet, General. This is not a hearing so you have no reason to speak in your defense,” the person stated curtly as he took his seat. “I call this meeting of the Hierarchy to order. We’re here to discuss the recent failure of Project: Deeper Mountain and the escape of X-Force. Comments?”

“We have all been briefed on the defection of Moira MacTaggert,” said another voice from the darkness as the noises of chairs being moved around stopped. “Cassidy should never have brought her in from the beginning. I advised him it would be a wasted effort and I was--”

“MacTaggert is of no concern to us anymore,” a third voice abruptly cut in. “She is useless and applying our resources to punish her would only be met with more casualties as our esteemed General Meyer here proved.”

General Meyer blinked as the bright light continued to halt his vision. He looked at the floor, slightly ashamed that he was in this position. X-Force had humiliated him on Muir Island and despite his best efforts he had been forced to retreat. All the planning had been wasted. Moira was freed, the project had been destroyed, Weapon Chi was gone, some of their soldiers were dead, and X-Force had evaded capture.

“Regardless,” replied the other voice, “if Cassidy hadn’t put so much stock in the Muir Island operation we wouldn’t have been set back as much as we have.”

“I agree,” piped in another mysterious voice. “Meyer can be held responsible for the debacle that was Project: Deeper Mountain, but so can Cassidy.”

“General Meyer,” said the central voice. “We will give you one last chance to redeem yourself both in your own eyes and the Hierarchy’s. You should realize this chance is only being offered because of your resourcefulness in rooting out G.W. Bridge and having him disposed of before he could contact SHIELD. His knowledge of the Byron Agency could have crippled our operations, but it was you who was able to stop him. Because of this, we’ll grant you an opportunity to gain back our confidence in you.”

Meyer felt his feet stiffen and his back straighten when he heard this. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect from this… meeting. Things may actually work out in his favor, however, and that’s all that mattered.

“I’ll gladly take that opportunity, sir,” Meyer replied with a steady nod. “What is the next project you wish me to take on?”

“We want you to destroy X-Force once and for all.”

DISPOSABLE HEROES
Part I: Bringing Down The House

Written by David Golightly (script)
and Cory Wiegel (plot)

They say that rain is sometimes an omen, hinting at dark and foreboding times in the near future. Brian Braddock had long ago dismissed such nonsense. After all of his adventures both in this world and various others he had come to realize that life is what you make of it. While one person would look at the foreboding sky over his head and see misery another person might see the primal forces of nature and the essence of life within them. Brian liked to think the glass was half full.

Despite the rain, Brian had decided to venture down to one of his favorite pubs in Westminster. He had been working around the clock since being contacted by Peter Wisdom, leader of the rogue mutant team called X-Force. Using his political connections, Brian had been trying to dig up as much information as was available on the Byron Agency. However, recent events concerning the Byrons had put Wisdom in a rather perturbed mood. He demanded to know whatever he could about the organization, including the identities of their more prominent leaders.

“Punching Juggernaut through a wall seemed easier than digging up classified intel,” Brian muttered to himself. After only two drinks at the pub he had decided to head home to his wife. She would be able to relax him better than any bar could.

Brian tried to figure out his next move during the wet walk. His trenchcoat offered little protection from the falling moisture, even with the collar popped up and his hands shoved way down into the pockets. He had already extinguished most of his usual sources of information, which meant he now he to start asking questions of people that held no favor for him in exchange for a favor or two from him. It would not be a fun task.

“Excuse me, Mr. Braddock,” a thick Russian voice said from behind him. Brian halted and turned around to see a sterling white limousine pulled up to the curb just behind his heels. Leaning out of the back window was a dark-haired man who was staring at Brian. “Lovely evening for a walk, no?” he added with a grin.

“Do I know you?” Brian asked cautiously.

“Nyet,” the Russian answered. “But I do know of you asking many questions as of late. Questions that I, Colonel-General Valentin Shalatov, have answers to. Please sit with me out of the rain. We can help each other, I think.”

“You in the habit of picking up total strangers like this?” Brian mused. “Trustworthy guy.”

The Russian blurted out a deep chuckle. His eyes were still fixated on Brian but there was no malice in them. His face bore a mask of curiosity more than anything else. As suspicious as the scene may have looked, Brian wasn’t sure the Russian would try to cause him any harm. Even if he did it wouldn’t be very easy, anyway.

“My habits include gathering information,” he replied with a smile. “Information you have been inquiring about. Please, Mr. Braddock, come out of the rain.”

“I’ll give you five minutes,” Brian said to the delight of Shalatov. The door opened and Brian slid in beside the Russian, who smelled distinctly like vodka.

“Might I offer you a drink?” he asked, reaching for two glasses before Brian could answer. “I personally find your country’s vodka revolting, but my palette has been screaming at me ever since I arrived, so I must make do.”

“No thank you,” Brian answered with the wave of his hand. “Why don’t you tell me a little more about the exact reason behind your visit.”

“Ha! Direct, are we?” the Russian said with a smirk. “Very well.” Shalatov threw back the rest of his drink and quickly poured himself another, seemingly unfazed by its affects. “Mr. Braddock, the Byron Agency isn’t typically accustomed to being sought after. As you probably already know, they like to keep to themselves about certain aspects of their operation.”

“And what do you know about the Byrons that I don’t?”

“More than the people you’ve been asking questions to,” he replied smugly. “Officially, they are a collection of security firms the world over, contracting themselves out to various super power governments. Unofficially, they are the ultimate puppet masters, manipulating those same governments to meet their own ends.”

“How does telling me what I already know benefit me in any way? If this is all you came to tell me--”

“Relax, comrade! I ventured here because you and your X-Force friends have need of my more… specific information,” Shalatov explained, ushering Brian to stay seated. I doubt you or even the elusive Piotr Wisdom has stumbled upon the locations of the Byron Agency’s main European intelligence routing complexes.”

Brian was almost floored with surprise by Shalatov’s last words. The Russian leaned back in his seat, an obvious look of accomplishment on his face. Not only did this man know of his connection with X-Force, but he also somehow had the vital information that Brian had indeed been searching for. He couldn’t be sure if Shalatov was completely reliable, however. His trust had easily been misplaced before, so Brian decided not to rely completely on the word of a drunk. At the same time, however, he couldn’t just pass up a chance like this. There was no telling how long it would take to get the information himself, if at all.

“How could you possibly know those locations without being a Byron yourself?”

“Let me just say that I have my feelers extended much like yourself,” Shalatov tossed back another drink and again filled it to the brim. “Not only do I know where the complexes are, but I can even tell you how to gain access to what you’ll need from them. Surely you are interested in that.”

“You would just willingly give up that information?” Alarms went off in Brian’s head. He was suspicious before but now he knew something was definitely wrong with this situation. This was the kind of information people would die to keep secret and this man was ready to just spill all he knew. It didn’t add up.

“I have my reasons. My own encounters with the Byrons have left a bad taste in my mouth… much like your country’s vodka.” Despite his objection to the alcohol, Shalatov downed another drink. “Now, Mr. Braddock... Wouldn’t you like to know how to cripple the Byron Agency?”

“What’s an intelligence routing complex?” Terry Rourke asked. She stared curiously at the image of Brian Braddock on the monitor in front of her, every so often moving wisps of stray red hair from her face. Her unruly hair was always a source of compliments for her, but sometimes she wished she had the courage to just shave it all off.

One of the people who complimented her most was Peter Wisdom, who just so happened to be leaning over her shoulder at the moment. The monitor that Brian’s face currently graced was part of the communications array aboard the Midnight Runner, the ship Brian Braddock had loaned to X-Force. The rest of the team was standing behind Terry, listening in to the conversation. The ship’s auto-pilot ensured they wouldn’t crash head-on into a mountain, even though it was mostly ocean beneath them. After taking off from Muir Island to head to a safe house, X-Force had been going in circles in deciding their next move.

“A way for you to put a serious dent into the Byron Agency,” Brian stated over the electronic connection. “After speaking with a… interesting associate, I’ve found a way for you to gain access to the complexes.”

“Great,” Terry responded. “But what the hell are they?”

“Ahem,” Wisdom said, clearing his throat to speak. “Corporations, militaries, governments, banks… the whole lot of them use intelligence networks to collect and distribute data back and forth. It’s how they get information to wherever it needs to be so everything operates nicely. Security agencies, like the Byrons’ public face, use them, too. It’s like how a computer has a mainframe that stores all of the operational information.”

“How many of these things are there?” Terry asked.

“Well…” Wisdom began, “Black Air had a bunch of them spread all over the place. It stands to reason that the Byron Agency would, too. Maybe fifty?”

“Something like that,” Brian cut in. “I have a list of their locations that was gracefully provided by our new associate.” He relayed the encounter from earlier with Shalatov to the team, leaving out the part where the Russian had gone through a whole bottle of vodka by himself.

“If we can get inta one o’ them intelligence routers,” Marcus Raven said, moving forward from the back of the bay, “we can use that information to expose every dirty little finger the Byrons have stuck inta SHIELD. Once the world knows about what those bastards have been up ta, we might even be able to clear our names.”

Marcus removed his wide-brimmed hat and ran his aged fingers through his hair. He didn’t have to use his telepathy to know what his teammates were thinking. To put it bluntly, it royally sucked to be thought of as a worldwide terrorist. Their list of friends was short but their list of enemies was monumental. There wasn’t a country on the planet that didn’t want to get a hold of X-Force right now. To be cleared would be freedom.

“Send the coordinates, Brian,” Wisdom said. He felt partially responsible for getting his friends into their current situation and he was willing to do just about anything to rectify that, especially after the recent death of Sarah Bane. The wound from that travesty hadn’t yet healed.

“It sounds like a trap,” said an acutely feminine voice said from the back of the plane.

Everyone turned to look at Lydia del Ruiz, the voice’s owner. Lydia had been one of Interpol’s top agents before transferring to SHIELD. She had seen more than her fair share of field assignments, some of which had included being misled into a trap. Sometimes, those she worked with called her objections paranoid. She preferred to think of it as being cautious.

“I agree,” chimed in the seasoned veteran called Maverick, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “We have virtually no idea who this Shalatov guy is. He could be sending us to our graves without a second thought. Hell, he could even be on the Byron payroll.”

“Shalatov linked me to X-Force through the investigating I’ve been doing on your behalf,” Brian explained. “He dropped a few names on me. Names he wouldn’t have known to bring up if he hadn’t been spying on me. Apparently, Shalatov believes X-Force is nothing but a pack of rogue terrorists like everyone else. He owns a security agency much like what the Byrons claim to be. In the last year alone, the Byron Agency has taken almost fifty percent of his clientele. I did some checking of my own and found out that Shalatov’s organization used to be quite reputable, but is now in danger of bellying up from the loss of business. Like it or not, Shalatov gave us the information hoping you dirty terrorists would take down the Byrons for him.”

“So he is playing us?” asked Lydia.

“Yep,” Brian answered. “Just not how you might think. He’s not trying to kill you, he’s just trying to use you.”

“I’ve been used more times than I care to admit,” stated Maverick. “This opportunity won’t be coming around a second time, though. I say we go for it.”

“I dunno…” Terry mumbled, her accent barely poking through. “What if we get in too deep with this? A straight up confrontation is one thing but taking our queues from someone just as twisted as Meyer…”

“We’re doing this,” Wisdom said. “Send the coordinates, Brian.”

“Petey,” Terry said, turning in her chair to face him, “we need to all be on board for this.”

“We’re going to head for the closest router and blow the holy shit out of it. Shalatov won’t be using us; we’ll be using him. It might be a trap but we’re going to go ahead and spring it because this may be the only chance we have. It’s not like we have a lot of leads here while we are on the run. We’re going to end this thing once and for all. If you don’t like it, we’ll drop you off along the way. But we are doing this and we’re doing it now.”

“Easy, Peter,” Maverick said, stepping forward. “This ‘my way or the highway’ garbage isn’t going to fly. We’re all feeling Sarah’s death here, but rushing into--”

[[ ALERT! ALERT! ]]

The ship’s automated alarms blared over Maverick’s voice, cutting off the rest of his sentence. X-Force all collectively turned to the monitor display above the one Brian’s head was shown on to see what the problem was.

Before anyone could read a single word on the display, however, an explosion rocked the Midnight Runner, tossing the people within around like rag dolls.

The fire burned gloriously. General Meyer looked on as the pyre that had once been a safe house for X-Force roared with a devastating life. The location had been easy enough to find in the stealth boat’s computer despite having been mostly destroyed on Muir Island. This was a good start for his task of redemption.

Meyer was also pleased to see the entire area was covered with Byron Agency soldiers. Just before his helicopter had touched down he had looked out the window at the blazing inferno to see hundreds of black-armored men surrounding the fire. It was good to see how his organization could blanket an entire city block.

After organizing this strike, Meyer had been informed that the Hierarchy was already pleased with his progress… and displeased with Sean Cassidy. Not only did the Hierarchy hold Cassidy just as responsible for the Muir Island debacle, but there was talk of removing him entirely from his Head of Special Operations position. Cassidy was already on his way to the United States to organize business there after which he would undergo review.

“Sir, we’ve intercepted X-Force’s jet and opened fire,” reported the highest ranking soldier in Meyer’s immediate area. “We caught up with them on the other side of the island, about three miles from here. It’s a hit and they’re going down fast.”

“Good,” Meyer replied. “Swarm the wreckage. Take no prisoners.”

Tracking information also retrieved from X-Force’s boat had made it easier to locate the fools’ next destination. Their safe house was now anything but safe. Now the mutant team would be defeated once and for all.

As General Meyer went back to watching the building quickly transform into smoldering ash, he knew there would be no escape for Pete Wisdom and his band of mutant spies this time. He was sure of it.

Byron soldiers surrounded the fallen Midnight Runner and had begun to converge on the air craft. Surprisingly, the ship had remained mostly intact, although one of the rear rudders had been completely ripped off. Smoke billowed out from the broken windows of the plane, a sure sign that the interior hadn’t faired as well as the exterior.

“Move in!” one of the soldiers ordered the rest, which consisted of several dozen. “The General says he wants no survivors!”

Moving forward cautiously, the large contingent of troops had their various weapons all pointed at the main entrance to the Midnight Runner, which was barely being held on by a single hinge.

“Be careful, men! These terrorists are--HYUK!”

The soldier’s head jutted back and he fell limply to the ground, completely motionless. Three other agents moved in while the rest paused, scanning the immediate area.

“He’s been shot!” hollered one of the soldiers upon inspection of his fallen associate. A single bullet was lodged in his neck, one of the few parts of the soldier’s body that wasn’t protected by armor. “There’s a sniper around here some--HYUK!”

Much like the first, the other soldier fell to the ground, dead.

“Sniper fire coming from the east ridge!” another soldier proclaimed. “Open fire! Open fire!”

Before any of them were able to shift their footing and aim the weapons at the new target, two other men were thrown to the ground from sniper shots. This time, however, the shots had come from the west.

“They’re trying to box us in!” a third soldier yelled. “Get to cover! Fall in to the aircraft!”

Several soldiers closest to the east and west ridges went down on one knee to pepper the hillsides with gunfire, providing cover for the rest. The snipers made short work of them, however. Out of the several dozen troops only twenty-four made it to the wreckage.

“Someone radio Meyer and tell him…hey…what’s all this stuff under the hull?” Curiosity getting the best of him, the soldier reached out to touch the grey substance lining almost the entire underbelly of the ship. It was soft and slightly malleable, like clay. A split-second later, the soldier made the connection, but it was too late.

KRA-KOOOOOM!

The tiny chirp of the detonator in Maverick’s hand was nothing compared to the engulfing explosion of the plastic explosives that he and Lydia had attached to the Midnight Runner. He stood up from his prone position, a sniper rifle now resting on his hip. Pocketing the detonator, Maverick reached for his comlink.

“Beauty of a fireball, wouldn’t you say, Marcus?” he asked. He could slightly feel the flames even from his spot on the ridge.

{{ Brian wouldn’t think so, }} Marcus Raven replied. He stood up from his own prone position at the top of the west hillside.  {{He’s gonna be plenty pissed we slagged his ship.}}

“It was toast anyway,” Maverick said coyly at his intentional pun. “Least the crossfire bit worked. They scurried right where we wanted them.”

{{ Telepathic scans of the area indicate no one survived. Time to move on. }}

“Right,” Maverick agreed. “See you at the rendezvous. I’ll let Petey know we’re good to go.”

“Good work,” Wisdom said, nearly out of breath. He, Siryn, and Lydia had been running for what seemed like forever. Even though he was in pique physical condition, Wisdom felt short of breath, most likely from his chain-smoking habit. Lydia was bounding along fine with the sun out to fuel her strength, and Siryn had taken to the air.

Doral’s Point, the small island where their safe house had once stood, was mostly covered with thick forests. The trees made it harder to transport all the equipment they had tried to save from the doomed Midnight Runner, but the three of them made their way as quick as they possible.

{{ We’ll cover our tracks and meet with you at stealth boat, }} Maverick squawked through the comlink.

“Roger,” Wisdom replied between huffs. “Let’s hope this one didn’t get blown up like the first. We’ll never get Forge to build us another one. Over and out.”

Though the terrain was against them, the three members of X-Force successfully made it through the dense foliage to their destination. It was rough because of the luggage they had been forced to quickly pack on, but they made it in good time nonetheless. The cave entrance came into Wisdom’s view, which was a welcome sight compared to the thick forest.

Originally, the cave had only gone into the rock face a few dozen meters. After the safe house had been built, it was deepened to extend down to the shore, where hidden docks and their stealth boat were resting, waiting to take them all to safety.

There was a small clearing in between where the cave opened up and the forest ended. It was there that the three rogue operatives breached the edge of the tree line and collected together.

Wisdom smiled and reached for a cigarette resting behind his ear. Once Maverick and Marcus caught up with them it would be smooth stealth sailing from there on out. Wisdom pulled out his silver lighter and flicked it open.

BA-DOOM!

The blast from the explosion wasn’t enough to knock Peter over, but it did succeed in blowing out the spark in his lighter, which was probably more irritating. The cave entrance closed up from the resulting rockslide, sealing off the entrance.

“Bloody ‘ell!” he screamed.

Siryn instinctively took to the air again, leaving the equipment near Lydia. She shot straight up into the sky, leveling with the top of the hill the cave was inside of.

“Shit,” she said, swooping back down to her teammates. “There’s smoke coming out o’ the bottom of the cave, too, and there’s a Byron boat sitting not far out from the shore. We're done in, guys. They just cut off our escape route.”

“Now what?” Lydia blurted out. Her voice wavered slightly and with good reason. X-Force was trapped. “We’re sitting ducks up here! It won’t take long for more soldier to sweep this area and when they do--”

“When they do we’ll be long gone,” Wisdom chimed in.

“You’re cute, Petey, but cut the bullshit. We need to regroup and dig ourselves in somewhere. With some luck we can fend off those assholes until we figure out a better plan.”

“We already have a better plan, luv.”

Wisdom reached into his utility vest and pulled out his cell phone, holding it up for Lydia and Terry to see. He flipped it open and pressed the speed dial, connecting to the one person on the planet that could save them. It was dangerous as the Byron Agency was undoubtedly monitoring any transmissions in the area, but he had no choice. X-Force would be apprehended and most likely killed unless Wisdom placed the phone call.

His sniper rifle now on auto-fire, Marcus Raven dropped to one knee to steady his aim and shoot down the several Byron soldiers that were giving chase. He and Maverick had been caught with their proverbial pants down while cleaning up their own trails and it was beginning to get ugly for them. The soldiers had surrounded them, trying to converge on their locations, but Marcus had picked up a few stray thoughts and alerted Maverick.

Maverick was gunning down as many soldiers as he could while trying to cover Marcus’ back, but he was beginning to run out of ammunition. The pair wasn’t quite in dire need of help yet, but they were damn close.

“I’m almost out, Mav,” Raven yelled over his shoulder. “I hope you can swim, ‘cause we’re about to get sent up the river.”

“I’m just about out, too,” he replied. “And guess what? I don’t have a ton of kinetic energy built up, either. These goons aren’t packing energy-based weapons.”

“I can’t barge inta their brains,” Raven countered. “Their helmets are blocking my telepathy somehow. Ain’t nothing they got that can block my other talents, though.” Raven dropped his depleted rifle and stretched out his hands, tossing a wall of telekinetic force into the closest set of troops. “Not a permanent solution, Mav. We’re in deep shit here.”

“I’ve got one grenade left!” Maverick shouted as he rolled back closer to Marcus. “Here! Blow the hell out of them bastards while I cover you with the little ammo I have left!”

Marcus gladly took the round explosive from his teammate and stood up on both feet, ready to toss his last tactical offense. His hand reached up the pull the pin while Maverick expended the last of his ammunition.

Raven’s finger curled around the pin, ready to yank it out and say his prayers. Before he got the chance, however, a blinding flash of light enveloped them. In a split-second, the light was gone and so was the nearly helpless pair of renegade SHIELD agents.

Tremont Alley had been home only to vagrants and squatters over the last few years. It was part of the seedy underbelly of London, rarely visited by the sophisticated and well-off, let alone the tourists. No one would have believed the drunks and derelicts when they tried to tell of the bright light that deposited five rugged individuals into the center of the alley.

“What the hell was that?” Maverick exclaimed, his guard still up. The suddenness of the transportation had done a number not only on his demeanor but on his stomach as well.

“Jesus!” Marcus yelled from behind Maverick. “Good thing I hadn’t pulled this pin out yet! Where the hell are we?” he wondered aloud, then turned to X-Force’s leader. “Wisdom? Why aren’t we in the middle o’ a firefight no more?”

“I reached out and touched the only friend we’ve still got,” Peter said between puffs of smoke. He, along with Siryn and Lydia, had apparently gotten there before Maverick and Marcus. Wisdom was just starting his second cigarette, Siryn was looking over their salvaged equipment, and Lydia was having an animated conversation on her cell phone a ways down the alley.

“What do you mean? You called in a transport? Who?” Maverick had an idea of what Wisdom was talking about, but if it was what he suspected then he he was damn sure it hadn’t been the best decision.

“Called up Fury,” Wisdom responded, exhaling another breath of wispy smoke. “Had him use HERMES to get us the fuck out of there. Bit nasty on the reentry, though. My lunch feels like it’s about to evacuate. Lydia is on her mobile with Brian to try and get us a ride. Fingers crossed for a chic limo service.”

“Lose the jokes,” Maverick commanded. “The Byrons were probably monitoring your call to Nick Fury, and that means they now have proof that he’s been helping us. Good going, Pete. You just compromised Fury’s whole operation!”

“Hey!” Wisdom shot back. “I did the only thing that saved our soddin’ rears and that includes your own! I don’t want to put Nick in any more danger then he’s in but if I hadn’t made that call we would either be captured by now or worse!”

“If you’re both done pissing up each other’s rope now,” Lydia broke in, “Brian’s sending us a couple of cabs. They’ll be here soon, so I suggest we grab the equipment and move on out of the open.”

Wisdom held his shared stare with Maverick for another heartbeat before finally breaking it off to pick up the nearest case of equipment. Siryn watched both men as the tension seemed to slowly die down. Maverick swore under his breath and finally turned to make sure Marcus had made it out with him alright.

Picking themselves up, X-Force headed down to the mouth of the alley to await their rides. An uneasy silence blared between all of them until the cabs finally pulled up to the curb. Stowing the equipment in the trucks of the vehicles, the team climbed in and the cabs drove off to somewhere in London.

The current director of SHIELD sat uneasily in his chair. The hard wood and uncomfortable configuration of the chair was causing Nick Fury’s lower back to spike with pain. He thought for a second that an organization like SHIELD would be able to afford something a little nicer, but then he realized that whoever sat in this chair wasn’t supposed to feel comfortable. They were supposed to feel like they were in front of a firing squad. Right now, Nick Fury certainly felt like he was facing a battalion of loaded rifles.

“This meeting is now in order,” stated one of the people sitting before Nick. There were ten in all, dressed in finely tailored suits and dresses – all of them several high-ranking UN officials, SHIELD officers, and the organization’s financiers. Nick naturally didn’t take well to their kind of bureaucratic authority, but there were two people sitting there that he almost hated with an immense passion. They were members of the Byron Agency who had a right to be present on account of the agency becoming the main financial supporters of SHIELD’s operations. It sickened Nick to admit that the Byrons had a majority control on the worldwide police taskforce.

“Director Fury,” the same man who had called order began, “we’ve recently completed our review of the Strategic Hazard Intervention, Espionage and Logistics Directorate, along with the revisions to its operations charter.”

“Ahem,” one of the Byron representatives said, clearing his throat. “Charters. Plural.”

“Yes, charters,” the man agreed, appearing slightly annoyed. “We’ve revised the original charter and added a second, Director Fury. You’ll be glad to know that according to our revision of the first charter, SHIELD will retain all of its departments and current operations in the field with you remaining in command as director of said operations. Unsanctioned alliances, however, are forthwith severed officially. This includes any and all mutant funded task forces, of which the rogue X-Force is a part.”

Fury simply nodded in agreement, as he had expected as much. X-Force was currently known the world over as a terrorist cell wanted for multiple crimes. It would be unrealistic for him to hope SHIELD would be able to help them clear their names, especially with two Byrons on the board.

“And the second charter?” Nick asked begrudgingly.

“We’ve come across evidence that suggests you were personally involved with X-Force’s escape from apprehension in an incident yesterday evening, Director Fury,” spoke an unseen voice.

Fury swiveled in his torture chair to see General Meyer walk into the room. The man had a smirk on his face as he peered at Nick, almost glad to see his face as he said that in a sickening sort of way.

“Moments before X-Force successfully hacked into HERMES and used it to escape my contingent,” Meyer said, “records indicated that you received an untraceable phone call.”

“I get untraceable calls all the time,” Fury defended. “This is a spy outfit, after all.”

“Then you won’t mind verifying that you had nothing to do with X-Force’s escape?” Meyer asked. The smirk on his face turned into a full grin.

“That call was both confidential and classified,” Fury stated, his anger beginning to poke through as he turned back to face the board. “Who the hell is he and what kind of bullshit accusations are these?”

“General Meyer is leading the search for X-Force on behalf of the Byron Agency, Director Fury,” the board representative answered. “His intrusion on these proceedings, while uncouth, is warranted. We are placing you personally as responsible for the capture of X-Force, Director. Unless you track down and bring them to justice, this board will be forced to invoke the second charter, which removes you as director of SHIELD operations, confines you indefinitely for terrorism pending a thorough investigation, and overhauls the SHIELD program with General Meyer as your replacement.”

“So either I bring them in or you throw me in jail?” Fury sneered.

“This board can no longer substantiate SHIELD projects if one of them is responsible for terrorist activities,” the man stated plainly. “You have your orders, Director.”

“This is Grade-A horseshit!” Fury hollered, standing up from his chair. “This is practically the goddamn definition of blackmail! I thought the air conditioning was on the fritz when I walked in, but now I can see it’s because of your stuffed shirts.”

“Order!” the board representative said, slamming his gavel down. “Director Fury, you are out of line!”

“You’re the ones who are out of line!” he shot back. “SHIELD wasn’t started so corrupt security agencies could come in and use it to clean their dirty laundry. You’re all keeping SHIELD from doing what it was meant to do with your back-alley corporate deals, ya bunch of bureaucratic jackasses!"

Ignoring the protest of the board and the chuckles of General Meyer, Nick Fury kicked his chair out of the way and stormed from the room. If ever there was a time when he was caught between a rock and a hard place, this was it. Nick made his way back to the SHIELD Hellicarrier and into his office, slamming the door shut behind him. He had a lot to think about. Somehow he had to help X-Force and keep himself out of jail at the same time.

The Byron Agency, while being comprised of the biggest piles of garbage Nick had ever met, had played the game well. SHIELD, X-Force, and even Nick himself were now all in check, and if Nick didn’t play his cards right then there was going to be a lot to answer for.