Title: Mortem Cantor: Behind the Shield

Summary: It was a good thing the new scientist, Dr. Harry Evans, was working out so well. Because nothing else was going Fury's way. And that was before Loki made off with the Tesseract and some of his people. Maybe AU to Mortem Cantor by Kyandua.

Rating: T for Fury's language, lots of it. Brief mention of drugs (Fury) and sex (Stark).

Disclaimer: Merely borrowing the characters and plot lines. The Harry Potter series belongs to J. K. Rowling. The Marvel Cinematic Universe (Avengers, Thor, Ironman, Hulk, Captain America, etc) belong to Marvel. Mortem Cantor (excluding parts that belong to the Harry Potter or Marvel Cinematic Series) belongs to Kyandua. You'll also find occasional references to other movies, which belong to their respective owners.

ooo

Next up, some backstory on some of Fury's complaints, including what happened when Fury went without coffee, what Stark did with pirates, and what other recording Coulson has. Now with 50% of the prescribed daily dose of Barton.

ooo

Chapter 8: Interlude: Why Fury hates Stark

[Timing: Before Ironman 1]

From: ceo at si dot com
To: all-employees at shield dot gov
Subject: Wanted: Reward

Wanted: Pictures of S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nicholas J. Fury in a pirate costume.
Reward: $1,000,000.00. Bonus for high resolution photos. Send photos to Tony Stark at ceo at si dot com for reward.

[E-mail quarantined]

ooo

Maria clutched two dozen folders and her monster-size thermos of coffee as she descended the staircase to the lowest level of the new Helicarrier. Her laptop bag hung from one shoulder, the outermost pocket filled with pens, a stapler, aspirin, peppermints, and anything else she might need for the rest of the day.

Her assigned office shared a wall with Director Fury's. Specialized sound-proofing usually kept their business separate, and if she accidentally heard something? Well, she was Deputy Director. She had clearance anyway.

Today, however, she'd been the unwilling audience of half-a-dozen lengthy diatribes through their shared wall. Fury had been incoherent with rage when she'd run into him earlier. Something about Stark and pirates. She hadn't stuck around to get the details. That was already more than she wanted to know. If it wasn't related to world security, it wasn't her job. And she wasn't stupid enough to volunteer.

Still, the world didn't stop turning just because Fury and Stark were busy circling each other playing male dominance games like a couple of fluffed-up peacocks. While the Director was indisposed/compromised, as he was now, it was her job to keep S.H.I.E.L.D. running and the world turning. So Maria was seeking a more conducive work atmosphere until whatever Stark had done blew over.

Major construction on their new headquarters had completed a month ago, but installing all the various subsystems they'd need to use the aircraft as a fully-functional headquarters would take another few months. Even so, they'd moved a number of their operations into the completed portions already, testing the layout and facilities to make sure it was suitable. They'd made several major changes already, including among other things, a new bathroom adjoining the security operations room, rerouting a section of the exhaust system so they didn't all get carbon monoxide poisoning when they fired up the engines, fixing an electrical short near the bridge that would have fried said engine, etc.

Quiet locations on the Helicarrier were scarce. The finished offices were already doled out and the common areas and unfinished areas weren't secure for her work. And besides that, she was looking to find some place where Fury wouldn't find her. If it was actually important, he could call.

That particular criteria had led her to this room. The last place he'd look for her in his current pirate-related rage. The "plank". Better known as the Cage, capable of holding anyone from terrorists to Victor von Doom to the Hulk (theoretically anyway) and ejecting them from the ship.

She fumbled with the folders and coffee before finally piling the paperwork on the ground so she could open the door. Retrieving the paperwork, she shut the door behind her and turned to find the nearest corner before freezing. The room was already occupied.

Phil Coulson looked up in surprise at her invasion. Papers, computer and coffee lay scattered around him. He smiled. "I see you're also taking advantage of our nuclear fallout shelter," he commented.

Maria smiled back, amused in spite of herself. She should have known. "Good to know I'm not the only sane one around here."

ooo

[A month later]

Agent Barton stared wide-eyed at the sight that greeted him as he opened the door to the conference room. The Director (as usual) had arrived before anyone else and sat at the head of the table, facing the door. But unlike usual, Fury was hunched over the table, his head buried in his arms.

Panicked, Barton fell back on his training. He closed the door firmly, and hurried over, checking for signs of life. Breath, check. Pulse, steady. (And wasn't it even more frightening that Fury hadn't suddenly snapped up and taken his arm off for touching him). He made a few more checks for vital signs and signs of poisoning-fingernails and breath and the like. No, nothing obviously wrong. "Director?!"

No response. If this was an assassination attempt, he was supposed to fake Fury's death or something while somehow getting help at the same time. Did they even have body doubles on the carrier yet?

Time to call for backup. He pulled out his cellphone to call Coulson, knowing better than to leave Fury alone, but paused and put the phone away as he heard his handler's distinctive gait in the hallway. The scheduled meeting had been a briefing for his next meeting, after all.

Barton slipped back over to the door. He waited until Coulson was just outside, before swinging the door open, greeting him abruptly to make sure Coulson wouldn't react badly to being grabbed suddenly, yanked the agent in, and swiftly shut the door behind him. "I found him like this-"

Then Clint paused, finally processing what he'd seen in the hall, because Coulson hadn't been the only person in the hallway. Natasha opened the door he'd accidentally slammed in her face. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Sorry Nat, didn't hear you coming."

Both compliment and explanation. She nodded.

Coulson ignored them to check on Fury, running through the same checks Clint had, then pulled out his own phone, hitting speed dial. "Maria, I need you to come to conference room A-207. We have a possible code 32."

"I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Maria."

ooo

Maria knocked on the door only a minute later, and was let in by Clint.

Coulson frowned at her when he realized she'd come alone, "Where are the medical personnel?"

Maria waved a hand at him negligently. "This isn't a code 32, Phil," she said, smiling, as she dug out a top-of-the-line SLR camera out of her satchel. "The Director ran out of coffee yesterday afternoon and thought he could keep going without. I've been waiting for him to crash for hours."

Her calm statement was met with blank stares.

"I thought you were strict by-the-book," Clint accused.

"I am." Maria agreed. "Director Fury ought to know better than to fall asleep on base. It wouldn't be the first time an assassin's gotten this far. This is just driving that in."

"...I'm pretty sure the Director would prefer the assassin."

"Then he shouldn't have to learn this lesson more than once."

There was a pause as everyone in the room reevaluated Deputy Director Maria Hill. She took half-a-dozen photos while they did so.

A slow grin spread across Clint Barton's face. "Don't wake him up yet. I've got something you'll want first." He ordered, quickly unscrewing and prying off one of the vent covers and disappearing.

He was back minutes later with a bundle of cloth and accessories... pirate accessories. He had everything. Swashbuckler clothing, a fake peg leg, another eye patch, a hook hand, bandanas, a hat, a makeup kit, a large pirate flag, two rolls of duct tape, and the pie-de-resistance, a fake but realistic-looking, colorful talking parrot (motion-activated).

"Oh my god, he's going to kill us." Maria stated flatly.

There were a few moments as everyone took a moment to contemplate mortality and life.

Then Natasha picked up the makeup kit and walked towards Fury. "Life is meant to be lived."

"That's my girl!" Clint grinned, bounding over with the clothing.

ooo

"You've actually been planning on taking advantage of Stark's bounty, Agent Barton?" Maria inquired, helping Phil duct tape the peg leg to Fury's knee. Fury was going to kill her whether or not she helped for not putting a stop to this insanity. Might as well earn the death sentence.

Clint's head snapped up in surprise, a makeup brush in one hand. His circus background came in handy more often than one would think. "Stark took a hit out on Fury?!" he asked incredulously.

"No. It's not a hit." Coulson clarified, ripping off another long strip of tape. "He wants pictures. Of Director Fury. In a pirate outfit. He sent a mass e-mail to everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. It was quarantined but everyone knows anyway."

Clint whistled lowly, "Damn. That takes balls. I've really gotta meet this guy. I bet we'd get along great."

"No."

"Nyet."

"Over my dead body."

ooo

"If the pirate costume wasn't for the bounty, then why do you have it?" Maria asked curiously.

Barton shrugged, wide eyes pretending at innocence that fooled exactly no one in the room. "You never know when it might come in handy."

Natasha muttered under her breath in Russian. Coulson shot a glance at his agent. And made a mental note to search out Barton's caches to make sure he wasn't also keeping a Captain America costume in Coulson's size 'just in case'. (It would be a travesty for it to collect dust in some nest in the air ducts when it could be hanging prominently on his living room wall.)

ooo

They all kind of just stood there after they'd finished posing their unwilling mannequin and taking photos, at a loss of what to do next. None of this had been planned. Which, come to think of it, was probably the reason it'd worked in the first place. It was amazing the director had slept through the whole thing, to be honest.

Finally, Coulson took charge, "Now we wake him up."

Clint looked at him worried. Natasha shifted. Maria was horrified, "Phil, if he realizes we're responsible-"

"Which is more likely?" Phil cut in, "Fury not realizing we did this when he knows he was supposed to meet with us? Or waking him up and blackmailing him with the security footage of his reaction so he doesn't murder us all too badly."

"The man has a point." Clint agreed.

Maria still looked hesitant.

"Tell you what," Phil offered, "Give me the camera and go pull the security footage of the next hour. Make copies for all of us and erase the backups. I'll send the photos to Stark. We keep the video to make sure Fury doesn't kill us. In return, we'll keep your involvement secret from Fury while making sure you still get 25% of the... bounty. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Text me when you're in position."

Maria nodded, and left the room.

"I didn't know Agent Hill had that in her." Barton admired.

"She's second-in-command for a reason." Coulson pointed out. Then he smiled pleasantly. "Now, who wants to wake the sleeping dragon?"

ooo

"Phil."

"Maria." Coulson acknowledged. "I take it the Director wants something."

"I've been ordered to 'find out where the fuck that traitorous shit is hiding' and tell you that he wants the files on Peru on his desk by 11 o'clock."

"He'll have them."

Maria nodded, accepting the answer, but didn't leave. Phil looked at her questioningly.

"How much longer are you going to hide in here, Phil?" she gestured at the Cage, "It's been a week already."

"Until Fury calms down."

"So forever then."

Phil smiled. "Sounds about right," he agreed, deadpan. He continued, "Someone else will set him off soon and I'll go back to working from my office."

"Good. Try not to die before then."

ooo

[Weeks/months later]

Fury hated Stark. The man-whore was lucky he was a public figure that couldn't disappear easily. Because Fury had been tempted.

One of the many problems with Stark was that he had very good lawyers who were paid to work around Stark's crazy and give him very good advice that Stark might actually follow. Cracking into government databases was a criminal offense. Spam was not. (Or at least Stark knew how to get around the few existing laws.) Which meant that while Stark occasionally broke into their systems (Fury knew it was him even if he couldn't prove it to a court), he sent spam to all valid S.H.I.E.L.D. employee e-mail addresses ALL THE TIME.

You'd think S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top-of-the-line spam filters would help, but they didn't. No filter in the world was good enough to defend against J.A.R.V.I.S. (Stark has an A.I. that sophisticated. And what does he do? Use it to spam S.H.I.E.L.D. The bastard.)

Every flood of unwanted e-mail was unique, hell, every individual e-mail was unique from a unique sender, to the point where every pattern-matching technique they tried failed miserably. IP filtering didn't help either, not when Stark would happily blow money on short-term leases of IP addresses for every wave of spam (or even use a shell corporation to buy out a small company that sold webhosting services). Stark had even tried to buy out S.H.I.E.L.D.'s webhost, but that had been caught in time, thankfully. S.H.I.E.L.D. now owned its very own webhosting service.

Beyond the constant deluge of background spam, there were spam dumps on special occasions. Like on Stark's birthday (And Fury's and Pepper's and ...) and on Christmas (and Hanukkah and Kwanzaa "because I don't want to discriminate"). And when Stark was feeling depressed. Or got drunk... In short, these 'special occasions' weren't all that rare.

Unfortunately, today was September 19th, also known as "International Talk-like-a-Pirate Day". Fury'd already popped half a dozen aspirin (for both the pain-relief and blood-thinning benefits) and was praying none of his enemies (or "friends" and "allies" for that matter) would try anything today because he knew he was going to get hell from Stark.

Sure enough, it started at 8:15am, when most of his standard dayshift workers got into work and checked their e-mail. A deluge of pirate-themed spam was delivered: pirate jokes, pirate pictures, photoshopped pirate pictures of Fury, authentic non-photoshopped pirate pictures of Fury (he wasn't sure how Stark got ahold of pictures from back when Fury was 10 and dressed up for Halloween, but Coulson was going to die for giving Stark the more recent photos).

Fury tried to remember how much aspirin it would take to land him in a drug coma. He shouldn't have even bothered waking up today.

ooo

Maria successfully juggled her stacks of paperwork and coffee cup tray as she strode down the hallway. She'd had more practice than she wanted to consider at balancing her belongings on the occasions when Fury lost it. Days when she and Phil wisely migrated to their secondary office to avoid getting caught in the fallout. It was Pirate Day which meant the Director was going to be useless all day. Unfortunately, that left her in charge as Deputy Director so she couldn't skip work like she desperately wanted.

Even so, she knew better than to work from her office today. Fury was living up to his name and Stark was no doubt gleefully pouring gasoline on the inferno. Until Pirate Day was over, she was hiding.

Coulson had already made himself comfortable in his usual corner in the Cage, greeting her briefly before turning back to his work.

Maria generously offered him one of her five coffee cups-she'd come prepared for a siege today-and settled down to get some work done.

ooo

From: ceo at si dot com
To: all-employees at local dot shield dot gov
Subject: Wanted: Reward

Wanted: Pictures of S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nicholas J. Fury in a Santa Claus costume.

Reward: $1,000,000.00. Bonus for high resolution photos. Send photos to Tony Stark at ceo at si dot com for reward.

P.S. Thanks for the pirate photos.

[E-mail quarantined]

ooo

[Internal Memo]

From: director at local dot shield dot gov
To: cyberhead at local dot shield dot gov
Subject: Orders

To: Head of Cybersecurity and Cyberwarfare Department

Order 2038-2891-3895-1789 is hereby authorized for immediate implementation including options T3 and V9.

Authorized by: Nicholas Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

[Digital Signature: 819yfhjoaes89eri3hn1jerlewsf...]

Disclosure of any part of this memo is subject to disciplinary measures outlined in the S.H.I.E.L.D. Handbook, up to and including death for severe offenses.

ooo

[Internal E-mail]

From: director at local dot shield dot gov
To: cyberhead at local dot shield dot gov
Subject: Orders

Jeffrey,

I want Stark's systems so riddled with viruses that it'd make a whorehouse look clean. It better be done by close of business.

Oh, and while you're in his systems, see if you can't find out who's been dealing under the table to terrorists. Hopefully it's Stark himself so I can shoot the bastard.

Fury.

ooo

[A slightly changed future]

"Don't think I don't know who Loki's cage was meant for."

"Don't be ridiculous, Banner," Fury snapped. "You were just an excuse to build the Cage without tipping off my people. If I'm throwing anyone off my helicarrier, I'm starting with Hill and Coulson for gross insubordination."

Everyone stared in shock at Fury's top subordinates. Agent Hill looked unaffected. Agent Coulson smiled blandly. "Finally getting over your denial, sir?"

Fury glared at Coulson. Then addressed Banner again, "Hill and Coulson use it as their second office to hide from me and think I don't know about it. They irreparably sabotaged the eject function about a week after we built the Cage. Lucky for them. I've hit the backup eject button half-a-dozen times with them in it for the shit they've pulled."

ooo

[A slightly changed future]

Loki slapped the eject button to send the Cage and Thor hurtling to the ground. He frowned, distracted when it didn't work, and hit the button again.

The delay almost cost him, but he twisted awkwardly and narrowly evaded Coulson's shot. The glass observation window finally began to crack under Mjolnir's blows. With no time to toy with the human, Loki frantically blasted Coulson out of his way with the staff and took off running through the now-unimpeded path to freedom. Loki refused to let his brother stop him now.

The staff blast threw the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent clear off his feet. Phil Coulson slammed into a wall and crumbled into a heap, unconscious. Thunder rumbled as Thor finally broke out of the Cage (a formidable construct, but one meant for temporary containment prior to ejection and not capable of withstanding nonstop assault from Thor or the Hulk). Instead of chasing his trickster brother, the god of thunder turned to check on his fellow warrior. Humans were so very fragile.

ooo

[A slightly changed future]

"Ooh, performance issues. Well, 1 in 3's not too bad. And I don't blame you for failing to... eject... with Thor. Incest is a big no-no even if you are adopted."

Loki looked livid. A moment later, Tony was crashing through the glass windows of his skyscraper, hurtling hundreds of stories toward the ground, bracelets shooting after him.

Loki didn't notice the silver objects as he closed his eyes and shuddered. Uggh no. He didn't ever want to think of Thor that way. Just no.