Rain came down in sheets that night—hard and fast, like the sky had snapped.
Thunder cracked above the Brooklyn skyline, drowning the hum of traffic and distant sirens. Wind scraped at metal grates and whipped through the dark corners of alleyways, where shadows lurked and the city forgot its own name.
He didn't mind the rain.
Rain washed away the blood.
He stood beneath a flickering streetlamp, drenched and hooded, eyes focused on the dingy warehouse across the street.
Inside was his next target.
And something else he hadn't expected.
---
The Setup
The intel had come from Fixer's shadow—the whisper of a weapons deal going down between The Iron Dogs and a rogue paramilitary group from the Middle East. Crates of untraceable StarkTech, somehow stolen before they reached Tony Stark's hands.
Timeline fracture.
That shouldn't be happening yet.
The future was shifting already.
He didn't like it.
He reached into his Inventory, materializing a black, custom-modded pistol. A new acquisition. Twin suppressors. Shadow-welded magazine. It almost purred in his grip.
"Brickhand," he said, and the massive Elite emerged beside him, kneeling despite his size.
"Ready."
"Enforcer. Thug. Mugger. You're with him. Standard sweep. Kill everyone except the buyer. I want answers."
"And if he resists?"
"Take his spine."
Brickhand grinned, shadow jaws widening with a beastlike crack.
They vanished into the darkness.
---
The Warehouse Raid
The warehouse exploded into action less than five minutes later.
No gunshots. Just motion—shadows slithering across walls, pulling men into the void. Crates crashing. Muffled screams.
He walked in through the front door.
Fog from the rain drifted into the building. The scent of gun oil, sweat, and blood saturated the air. Concrete floors were slick with it.
One man remained conscious, pinned beneath Brickhand's armored boot.
The buyer.
Military-grade gear. Clean beard. American accent, but with a trace of something Middle Eastern. Probably ex-SHIELD. Definitely dangerous.
He knelt beside him.
"Tell me how you got the tech."
The man didn't answer. Eyes defiant. Maybe confused. Maybe curious.
"You don't look like Hydra," the teen murmured. "Too clean. CIA, maybe?"
Silence.
Then, quietly, the man muttered, "You're not with any of them. Are you?"
"No."
"Then who the hell are you?"
The teen didn't answer.
He reached forward and touched the man's forehead.
"Scan."
---
[Scan Target: Jacob Rees – Ex-Black Ops / Shadow Client]
Military: Retired
Affiliations: Disavowed
Recent Dealings: Ten Rings, AIM, StarkTech smuggler
Danger Level: Moderate
Mental Resistance: 62%
Weakness: Family (daughter, 9), loyalty fracture
---
"Ten Rings," he repeated.
Things were accelerating too fast. Tony Stark hadn't even gone to Afghanistan yet.
"You're early," the teen muttered.
"What—"
Crack.
Brickhand drove a punch through the man's ribs. He collapsed, unconscious, but alive.
He hesitated.
He could extract him. Turn him into another soldier.
But this one had information. Layers. Ties. Shadows could whisper, but living people could scream.
"Fixer," he said aloud.
A ripple behind him, and the specter of the suited man emerged.
"Clean him. Set up a holding cell. Somewhere cold."
"Yes, Commander."
"And monitor anything to do with the Ten Rings. We may need to act before the timeline collapses."
---
The Observation
Back at the safehouse, he dried off, changed into clean clothes, and paced.
Everything had a rhythm.
Tony Stark's capture. SHIELD's formation. The rise of the Avengers.
But now? Something was… speeding up. The shadows told him whispers—corrupt military leaders, foreign tech dealers, AIM scientists digging deeper than they should.
He stared at a map of the MCU timeline he'd drawn by memory.
"You were supposed to build your first suit in a cave," he murmured. "You're not even supposed to get captured for two more weeks."
He tapped a red marker on Afghanistan.
"I may have to push you."
---
An Unexpected Visitor
It happened at midnight.
While training in the upper floor of the warehouse—bare-chested, muscles lean but toned, sweat glistening—his shadows went still.
He stopped.
Every shadow froze. Not out of command, but instinct.
Something had entered the perimeter.
He didn't feel fear. He felt pressure.
He moved to the window silently and peered out.
A woman stood alone in the rain.
Red hair.
Long black coat.
Eyes like coiled steel.
"Natasha Romanoff," he whispered. "Already?"
He didn't think she'd show up this early.
Was this random?
No. Nothing about the Black Widow was random.
---
He descended the stairs, shadows following like loyal hounds. He opened the door and stepped out.
They stood under the warehouse awning, silent for a few seconds.
She spoke first.
"Impressive cleanup job you did with the Iron Dogs. Very quiet. Very fast. No bodies."
He stayed silent.
She smirked.
"You're not Hydra. Not CIA. Not SHIELD either. You're… something else."
Still silence.
She took a slow step forward. "You're going to tell me what you are. Before people who don't ask nicely come looking."
He tilted his head.
"You think I'm afraid of SHIELD?"
"No," she said. "But you should be afraid of what comes next."
He smiled—slow and cold.
"I'm already preparing for what comes next."
---
The wind blew between them. Her hand twitched near her sidearm. His shadows writhed in anticipation.
"You don't want this fight," she warned.
"I don't," he said. "But I've won worse ones already."
A long pause.
Then she relaxed—just slightly.
"I don't work for Fury tonight," she said. "I came because I wanted to see you. The ghost in the system. The shadow in the dark."
He nodded once.
"Then look."
She did. She saw the faint violet glow in his eyes. The storm of movement behind him. The way darkness obeyed him.
After a moment, she turned away.
"Not an enemy, then?"
"Not yet."
"Good."
She vanished into the rain.
---
The Decision
Back inside, he opened his Status one last time.
---
[STATUS]
Shadow Power: 3.89
Elite Units: 1/3
Shares in Stark Industries: 2.1%
Known Timeline Deviations: 3
Noticed by SHIELD: ✓
Doomsday Evolution Status: Dormant
---
He stared at the last line.
"Dormant," he whispered. "But not for long."
Something big was coming.
And if the world was shifting faster than expected?
Then he'd shift faster than them.
The light flickered once.
And then the shadows swallowed the room whole.
---