Location: S.H.I.E.L.D. Hub - Medical Wing
Date: September 14, 2013
Time: 1422 Hours
The medical scanner hummed as it passed over Antonio's torso for the third time. Dr. Weaver, the Hub's chief medical officer, frowned at the readings on her tablet, then looked at Antonio with the kind of clinical curiosity usually reserved for particularly interesting specimens.
"Your bone density is forty percent higher than normal," she said. "Muscle fiber composition shows enhancement consistent with low-grade super-soldier serum exposure. Metabolic rate is elevated. Healing factor approximately three times baseline human."
Antonio lay on the examination table in a medical gown, trying not to feel like a lab rat. "Is this going to be a problem?"
"That depends. How did you acquire these enhancements?"
"That's classified."
"Agent Velaz, I'm cleared for—"
"Classified above your clearance level, Doctor." Antonio sat up, meeting her eyes. "With respect, I'm cooperating with this examination because Director Fury requested it. But the origin of my enhancements is not up for discussion."
Dr. Weaver's lips thinned. "I'm trying to establish a baseline for your physiology. If you're injured in the field, medical won't know how to treat you properly without this information."
"Then note in my file that standard treatment protocols apply. The enhancements don't significantly alter basic medical care requirements."
"But they do alter your capabilities. Which S.H.I.E.L.D. has a right to know about, considering you've been hiding them for twelve years."
There was the judgment. Antonio had expected it. Had prepared for it. Didn't make it easier to hear.
"Are we done?" he asked.
"Not even close." Dr. Weaver pulled up new scans. "These readings show unusual neural activity. Your reaction time is enhanced beyond what physical improvements alone would explain. There's something else going on. Cognitive enhancement? Precognition? Accelerated perception?"
Antonio said nothing.
"Agent Velaz—"
"Doctor, I've been cooperative. I've answered the questions I can answer. The rest is above both our pay grades." He slid off the table. "Unless you're holding me here against my will?"
Dr. Weaver looked like she wanted to argue, but finally shook her head. "You're cleared for duty. But this conversation isn't over. Director Fury will want a full debrief."
"I look forward to it."
Antonio dressed quickly, pulling on his tactical gear with practiced efficiency. As he left the medical wing, he found Agent Jasper Sitwell waiting in the corridor, tablet in hand, expression professionally neutral.
"Agent Velaz. Director Fury wants to see you."
"Now?"
"Twenty minutes ago, actually. But you were being scanned." Sitwell fell into step beside him as they walked. "Between you and me, you've stirred up quite the hornet's nest. Enhanced agents require special oversight. There are protocols."
"I'm aware."
"Are you? Because hiding enhancements from S.H.I.E.L.D. is technically a violation of your employment contract. Depending on how the Director decides to handle this, you could be looking at suspension. Or worse."
Antonio glanced at him. "Are you enjoying this, Sitwell?"
"Enjoying what?"
"Watching someone else squirm under scrutiny."
Sitwell's expression flickered—just for a moment, something passed behind his eyes that looked almost like understanding. Or fear.
"I'm just delivering a message," he said quietly. "But if you want advice? Be honest with Fury. Partial truths won't work with him. He always knows when someone's holding back."
They reached the elevator to the Director's office. Sitwell swiped his badge.
"Good luck, Velaz. You're going to need it."
1445 Hours - Director's Office
Nick Fury stood with his back to the door, looking out over the Hub's operations floor through the reinforced windows. His long coat hung perfectly still despite the air conditioning. His hands were clasped behind his back.
He didn't turn when Antonio entered.
"Sir," Antonio said. "You wanted to see me."
"Agent Velaz." Fury's voice was measured, controlled, dangerous. "The man who's been lying to me for twelve years. Have a seat."
Antonio sat in one of the chairs facing Fury's desk. The Director still didn't turn.
"Enhanced abilities," Fury continued. "Hidden since before you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. Used in the field without authorization. Without oversight. Without anyone knowing what the hell we actually had on our roster."
"Sir—"
"I'm talking." Fury finally turned, his single eye fixed on Antonio with laser intensity. "You want to know what pisses me off most? It's not that you're enhanced. We've got plenty of enhanced individuals. It's not even that you hid it—people have their reasons. What pisses me off is that you were good enough to hide it completely. That means you could have been anyone. Could have been working for anyone. Could have been doing anything behind our backs."
Antonio held his gaze. "I understand your concern."
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you're either the best deep-cover asset we never knew we had, or you're the most dangerous security breach in S.H.I.E.L.D. history. And I don't know which one you are yet."
"I've served S.H.I.E.L.D. faithfully for twelve years. My record speaks for itself."
"Your record is bullshit," Fury said flatly. "Every mission could have been enhanced by abilities we didn't know about. Every success could have been artificially inflated. I don't know what's real and what's you playing with weighted dice."
The accusation stung because it was partially true. Antonio had used his speed on missions. Had turned certain failures into successes through impossible timing. Had saved lives that would have been lost without enhancements.
But he'd never compromised a mission. Never betrayed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s interests.
Except for the part where he was literally created to destroy S.H.I.E.L.D. from within.
"What do you want from me?" Antonio asked.
"The truth. All of it. How you got enhanced. Why you hid it. What else you're hiding."
Antonio's mind raced through options. How much to reveal? How much to hold back? Every word was a calculation, a risk, a potential exposure.
"I was taken as a child," he said finally. "Experimented on. Given an unstable serum variant. I survived. Others didn't."
"Taken by whom?"
"An organization that no longer exists."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the one I can give you."
Fury's jaw tightened. "You're walking a very thin line, Agent."
"I know."
"Why S.H.I.E.L.D.? Why join us?"
Because the Red Skull ordered me to infiltrate and destroy you from within.
"Because I needed a purpose," Antonio said instead. "Because I was trained for combat, strategy, intelligence work. Because S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed like a place where those skills could do good instead of harm."
"Noble. Convenient. Possibly even true." Fury moved to his desk, pulling up a holographic display. "I've got reports from Agent Ward, Agent May, and Captain Chen of Canadian Intelligence. All saying the same thing—you've got abilities beyond what you've disclosed. Speed, strength, enhanced perception. What else?"
"That's it."
"Bullshit. Dr. Weaver's scans show neural patterns consistent with accelerated cognitive processing. You think faster than you should. Process information faster than you should. What else can you do?"
Antonio said nothing.
Fury leaned forward, both hands on his desk. "Here's what's going to happen. You're being reassigned to Coulson's team permanently—they already know about your enhancements, and Coulson vouched for you despite my reservations. But you're also being placed under enhanced monitoring. Random medical checks. Mission debriefs with full sensor recordings. Any sign that you're compromised, any hint that you're working against S.H.I.E.L.D.'s interests, and I will personally ensure you never see daylight again. Are we clear?"
"Crystal."
"Good. Now get out. Coulson's waiting in Conference Room Seven. He's got questions too."
Antonio stood, turned to leave.
"Velaz."
He stopped.
"I don't trust you," Fury said quietly. "Not yet. Maybe not ever. But Coulson does, and I trust his judgment. Don't make me regret giving you this chance."
"I won't, sir."
As Antonio left, he felt the weight of Fury's gaze following him. The Director was right not to trust him. If he knew the whole truth—about Hydra, about the Red Skull, about the twelve years of deep cover—he'd lock Antonio in the deepest hole S.H.I.E.L.D. had and throw away the key.
The fact that Antonio had been genuinely serving S.H.I.E.L.D.'s interests for years wouldn't matter.
The fact that he'd saved dozens of lives wouldn't matter.
The fact that he didn't even know if he was still Hydra wouldn't matter.
All that would matter was what he'd been created to be.
And that scared him more than anything.
1512 Hours - Conference Room Seven
Coulson sat alone at the conference table, two cups of coffee in front of him. He looked tired—the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from too many impossible situations in too short a time.
"Sit," he said, pushing one of the cups toward Antonio. "You look like you need this."
Antonio sat, accepting the coffee gratefully. "Fury's pissed."
"Fury's always pissed. It's his default state." Coulson took a sip of his own coffee. "How bad was it?"
"Probationary status. Enhanced monitoring. One mistake and I'm done."
"Could be worse. He could have had you thrown in the Fridge."
"The day's not over yet."
Coulson smiled slightly. "True." His expression turned serious. "Talk to me, Antonio. Not as your handler. As someone who wants to understand. Why hide this? Why not just register as enhanced when you joined?"
Antonio stared into his coffee, watching the surface ripple. "Would you have trusted me? An enhanced agent with no clear origin story, no explanation for his abilities, no ties to any known program? Or would I have been categorized, filed away, assigned to missions where my enhancements were the only thing that mattered?"
"You don't know that would have happened."
"Yes, I do. I've seen how S.H.I.E.L.D. handles enhanced assets. They become tools. Weapons. Their personhood gets lost behind their capabilities."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" Antonio met Coulson's eyes. "Tell me honestly—if I'd disclosed this twelve years ago, would I be the same agent I am now? Would I have had the same opportunities, the same trust, the same career?"
Coulson was silent for a long moment. "Probably not," he admitted. "You're right. Enhanced individuals do face different treatment. Different expectations. Different limitations."
"I didn't want to be limited. I wanted to be an agent. A good agent. And I have been."
"You have," Coulson agreed. "One of the best. That's why I fought for you with Fury. That's why you're still on my team."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. We need to establish some ground rules." Coulson pulled up a tablet, displaying what looked like a contract. "Full disclosure of capabilities. No using enhancements in the field without clearing it with me first. Complete honesty about anything that could affect the team's safety or mission success. Can you agree to those terms?"
Antonio read through the contract. Standard oversight protocol for enhanced operatives. Reasonable, actually, all things considered.
Except for one problem.
"What if my past comes looking for me?" he asked quietly. "The people who created me—or people connected to them. What if they find out I'm exposed?"
Coulson's expression sharpened. "Is that a real concern?"
"I don't know. Maybe. They're supposed to be gone, but..." Antonio trailed off. "Enhanced individuals attract attention. The wrong kind sometimes."
"Then we'll deal with it. Together. As a team." Coulson leaned forward. "That's what we do, Antonio. We protect each other. You don't have to face whatever's in your past alone anymore."
The words hit harder than expected. Together. As a team. Protect each other.
Everything Hydra had never been.
Everything S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to be.
"Okay," Antonio said. "I'll sign."
He took the tablet, read through the contract one more time, then added his signature. Digital, binding, official.
Antonio Velaz, Enhanced Agent, now on the record.
"Good." Coulson saved the document. "Now, about the team. Ward has concerns."
"Ward has more than concerns."
"He thinks you're a security risk. Possibly a sleeper agent for unknown hostile forces." Coulson's tone was matter-of-fact. "I told him that was ridiculous, but he's persistent. You'll need to work with him, earn his trust."
"And if I can't?"
"Then we have a problem. This team works because we trust each other. If Ward doesn't trust you, that's a crack in our foundation. And cracks spread."
Antonio nodded slowly. "I'll talk to him."
"Good. May's already on your side—she respects competence, and you've proven yourself. Fitz and Simmons are curious but willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Skye..." Coulson smiled. "Skye thinks you're cool. Her words, not mine."
Despite everything, Antonio found himself smiling. "She's a good kid."
"She's growing on me. Now—" Coulson stood. "We've got a new mission. Belarus. Reports of a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent conducting unauthorized operations. We need to investigate, determine if she's compromised, and bring her in if necessary."
"Former agent? Why is she former?"
"That's classified." Coulson's expression went carefully neutral. "For now. But you'll find out soon enough. Wheels up in two hours. Get your gear ready."
As Antonio left the conference room, his S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued phone buzzed. Text message from an unknown number:
We need to talk. Alone. Cargo Bay, 1600 hours. -Ward
Antonio deleted the message and headed for his quarters. Whatever Ward wanted to say, it wasn't going to be pleasant.
But it needed to be said.
The team's foundation was cracking. And Antonio had to decide if he was going to be the glue that held it together, or the hammer that shattered it completely.
1558 Hours - Cargo Bay
Ward was already there when Antonio arrived, standing near the heavy bag, hands wrapped for training. His posture was deceptively casual—but Antonio recognized combat readiness when he saw it.
"You wanted to talk," Antonio said, staying near the entrance. "Talk."
"Close the door."
Antonio hesitated, then complied. The cargo bay door hissed shut, sealing them in private.
"I don't trust you," Ward said without preamble. "I think you're hiding something bigger than just enhanced abilities. I think you're dangerous. And I think Coulson's making a mistake keeping you on this team."
"That's a lot of thinking."
"Don't be cute." Ward's jaw tightened. "I've been doing this a long time. I know enhanced individuals. I know how they move, how they think, what they're capable of. You're different. You're not just strong or fast or durable. You're something else. Something I can't categorize."
"And that scares you."
"Yes. Because I can't protect this team from threats I don't understand."
Antonio moved closer, slowly, keeping his hands visible. "I'm not a threat to this team. I've proven that."
"Have you? Or have you just been positioning yourself, gaining trust, waiting for the right moment to strike?"
"Strike for whom? Who do you think I'm working for?"
"I don't know. That's the problem." Ward circled slightly, maintaining distance. "Hydra's been quiet lately. Too quiet. They've got sleeper agents everywhere. What if you're one of them?"
The accusation hung in the air. Antonio felt his pulse spike—not from fear, from the sheer bitter irony of it.
Grant Ward, who in the original timeline would turn out to be Hydra himself, was accusing Antonio of being Hydra.
The universe really did have a sense of humor.
"I'm not Hydra," Antonio said. And that was true—he wasn't. Not anymore. Maybe never really was, except on paper.
"Prove it."
"How?"
"Tell me where you got your enhancements. Tell me who trained you. Tell me everything about your past that makes my instincts scream that you're dangerous."
Antonio stood very still. This was the moment. The choice. He could lie—spin a story about a rogue program, about being a victim, about anything except the truth.
Or he could tell Ward just enough truth to satisfy him. Not all of it. Not the Hydra connection. But enough to be believable.
"I was taken as a child," Antonio said slowly. "By people who wanted to create weapons. They experimented on dozens of us. Most died. I survived. They trained me—combat, languages, strategy, espionage. Everything you'd need to be the perfect soldier."
"Who were they?"
"Dead now. All of them. The program was destroyed years ago."
"What program?"
"I don't know what they called it. I was six. They didn't exactly hand out organizational charts to the test subjects."
Ward's eyes narrowed. "You're giving me just enough to sound truthful without actually telling me anything."
"I'm giving you what I can."
"That's not good enough."
"It's all you're getting."
They stared at each other. Two agents, both trained in deception, both hiding their own truths, both trying to protect something they'd lose if exposed.
"I'm watching you," Ward said finally. "Every mission. Every move. The second you step out of line, the second you do anything that threatens this team, I will put you down. Enhanced or not. Clear?"
"Crystal."
"Good." Ward unwrapped his hands. "One more thing. That move you pulled in Peru. The grenade. Don't ever do something like that again without warning the team first. We need to know what you're capable of if we're going to work together effectively."
"Noted."
"And Velaz?" Ward paused at the door. "I hope I'm wrong about you. I really do. Because if I'm right, if you are a threat..." He let the sentence hang.
Then he was gone.
Antonio stood alone in the cargo bay, fists clenched, jaw tight. Ward was smart. Suspicious. Dangerous.
And worst of all, he was right.
Antonio was a threat. Maybe not in the way Ward thought. Maybe not anymore. But the potential was there. The training. The conditioning. The mission parameters buried deep in his psyche that might activate if the wrong person said the right words.
I'm not Hydra, he told himself. I haven't been Hydra for years. I'm S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm the good guy now.
But deep down, in a place he didn't like to examine, he wondered if that was true.
Or if it was just another lie he'd gotten very good at telling.
1847 Hours - The Bus - En Route to Belarus
The team assembled for mission briefing. May at the pilot controls. Fitz and Simmons in the lab, prepping equipment. Skye at her workstation, pulling up digital intelligence. Ward and Antonio on opposite sides of the conference table, carefully not looking at each other.
And Coulson at the head, pulling up holographic displays of their target.
"Her name is Agent Akela Amador," Coulson said. "Former Level 7 S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. Presumed dead following a mission in Hong Kong three years ago. Except she's not dead. She's operating independently, conducting unsanctioned missions across Eastern Europe."
The hologram showed a woman in her thirties, dark hair, intense eyes. Professional headshot from her S.H.I.E.L.D. file.
"What kind of missions?" May asked.
"Theft. Espionage. Assassination." Coulson pulled up incident reports. "All high-value targets. All precision operations. Someone's directing her, and we need to find out who."
"Why not just bring her in?" Ward asked.
"Because something's wrong. Her behavior patterns don't match her psychological profile. She's acting like she's being controlled."
Antonio studied the mission reports, his enhanced perception catching details others might miss. Timing. Precision. Impossible awareness of security systems.
"She's got enhanced surveillance capabilities," he said. "These operations require knowing exactly where guards are, where cameras are blind, where pressure plates are located. Real-time intelligence that standard recon can't provide."
Coulson nodded. "Good catch. We think she's been fitted with some kind of ocular implant. Camera in her eye, feeding live data to whoever's controlling her."
"That's horrifying," Simmons said from the lab entrance. "The invasiveness alone—"
"It's efficient," Ward cut in. "Brutal, but efficient. Turn an agent into a living surveillance platform."
"And if she's being controlled," May said quietly, "she might not have a choice in what she's doing."
The team fell silent. The implications were clear—Amador wasn't a traitor. She was a victim. Being used. Possibly tortured.
"Our job is to find her, extract her, and figure out how to free her from whoever's pulling her strings," Coulson said. "Non-lethal force only. She's one of ours. We bring her home."
"What's the op plan?" Antonio asked.
"We track her to her next target. Belarus has been having diplomatic issues with Russia—lots of high-value intelligence floating around. We think she's going after something in Minsk. Once we locate her, Ward and Velaz will run interdiction while the rest of us work on identifying her handler."
Ward glanced at Antonio. "We're partnering?"
"You're our two best field operatives," Coulson said. "I need you working together on this."
The tension between them was palpable. But neither argued.
"ETA Minsk?" May asked.
"Four hours. Get some rest. This one's going to be delicate."
The briefing broke up. Antonio headed for his bunk, but Skye caught him in the corridor.
"Hey," she said quietly. "You okay? You seem... tense."
"Just processing. New team dynamics."
"Ward's being a dick to you."
"Ward's being protective. There's a difference."
"Still a dick though." Skye smiled slightly. "For what it's worth, I think you're good for this team. The way you handled Peru, the way you saved Fitz-Simmons—that's not the behavior of someone who's a threat."
"Thanks."
"Also," she lowered her voice, "I've been digging into enhanced individuals. Quietly. Seeing if there's any pattern to how S.H.I.E.L.D. treats them. It's not great. Most get shoved into special programs, lose autonomy, become tools instead of agents. I'm sorry that's what you were trying to avoid."
Antonio felt something warm in his chest. Gratitude, maybe. Or just appreciation for someone who saw him as a person instead of a threat.
"You're going to be really good at this job," he said.
"If I survive long enough." She grinned. "Try to get some sleep. You look exhausted."
After she left, Antonio lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. Around him, the Bus hummed its steady rhythm. The sounds of a team settling in for transit.
This is what family sounds like, he thought. This is what I was supposed to destroy.
And instead, I'm trying to protect it.
The mission to Belarus would be dangerous. Working with Ward would be tense. Extracting Amador would be complicated.
But none of that scared Antonio as much as the simple truth he was finally accepting:
He didn't want to be Hydra anymore.
He wanted to be S.H.I.E.L.D.
He wanted to be one of the good guys.
Even if he'd never really be good.
Even if his past would always haunt him.
Even if the Red Skull's ghost still whispered in his mind sometimes, telling him he was a weapon, a tool, a thing instead of a person.
He wanted to try.
And maybe that was enough.
2247 Hours - Minsk, Belarus
Rain fell in steady sheets as Antonio and Ward moved through the shadows of Minsk's diplomatic quarter. High-end hotels. Embassy buildings. Places where secrets were traded like currency.
Amador was here. Somewhere. Hunting her target.
And they were hunting her.
"Eyes on the eastern entrance," Ward murmured through comms. "Two guards. Standard security."
Antonio scanned the building with enhanced vision, seeing through windows, tracking heat signatures. "Fourth floor, northeast corner. Single heat signature. Could be her."
"Could be?"
"Ninety percent certainty."
"That's good enough. Moving to intercept."
They split up—Ward taking the main entrance, Antonio circling to fire escape access. Professional coordination despite the tension between them.
Antonio scaled the fire escape in seconds, moving at normal speed to avoid detection. Fourth floor. Northeast corner. He approached the window carefully.
Inside, he could see her. Amador. Sitting at a desk, completely still, eyes fixed on something across the street. Waiting.
Her eye reflected light oddly. The implant. She was recording everything, feeding it to her handler.
Which meant the handler was watching Antonio right now.
He tapped his comm. "Coulson, we've got a problem. She's got eyes on me. Whoever's controlling her knows we're here."
"Pull back," Coulson ordered immediately. "Don't engage until—"
Amador moved.
Fast. Trained. She was through the window and onto the fire escape before Antonio could react, knife in hand, eyes blank.
Not a person right now. A weapon being piloted remotely.
"Ward, she's mobile," Antonio said, dodging the knife strike. "Coming your way."
He didn't want to hurt her. She was a victim. But she was also a Level 7 operative with a knife and no hesitation.
They fought on the fire escape, rain making everything slick. Antonio pulled his punches—enhanced strength could kill if he wasn't careful. Focused on disabling, disarming, subduing without permanent harm.
But Amador was good. Really good. And whoever was controlling her knew every move Antonio made before he made it.
Because they were watching through her eye.
"She's being directed in real-time," Antonio said into comms. "Her handler sees everything she sees. Standard tactics won't work."
"Then use non-standard tactics," May's voice came back. "Do what you do best."
Antonio knew what she meant. Use the speed. Stop hiding.
But that meant fully exposing his abilities on camera. Whoever was watching through Amador's eye would record everything.
Team first, he decided. Secrets second.
Antonio accelerated.
To Amador—to her handler watching through her eye—it looked like Antonio simply vanished. One second he was there, the next he was behind her, pressure point strike to disable her arm, taking the knife, sweeping her legs, controlling her descent.
Three seconds at superspeed. Invisible to normal perception. But recorded.
Amador hit the fire escape unconscious but unharmed. Antonio zip-tied her wrists, checked her pulse. Stable.
"Target secured," he reported. "Unconscious. Unharmed. Bringing her in."
Ward appeared below, staring up at Antonio with an expression that said he'd seen something impossible.
Again.
"How the hell did you move that fast?" Ward demanded.
"Later," Antonio said, lifting Amador carefully. "Right now, we need to get her somewhere secure before her handler tries something else."
As they moved back to the Bus, Antonio felt the weight of exposure. Someone had just recorded him using superspeed. Someone now had evidence.
And whoever that someone was, they were smart, connected, and dangerous enough to control a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with an ocular implant.
This was about to get complicated.
END CHAPTER 4
NEXT: Chapter 5 - "Girl in the Flower Dress"
In which Amador's handler is revealed, Antonio's abilities become a liability, and Skye's past collides with the present in ways that force everyone to confront what it means to have secrets.