Disclaimer: I don't own anything Marvel or Avengers (unless a t-shirt and coffee mug counts)

"I need you to study a subject for me." A deathly calm voice began. "If I let you assemble a team of your coworkers could I trust you?" asked the dark figure, their tone, a rumbling baritone, was cold and calculating.

"I would be happy to oblige; though, might I ask, what would we be studying?" the scientist asked, she had been given almost no information other then where to meet this director.

"A mutant. We've never seen anything like this; its genetic coding is off the charts." The shadowed director spoke evenly. The man was seated behind a large metal desk; the gleam was nearly as sharp and cold as the director himself. "Of course Ms. Berrit, the emoluments will be great." He tacked on, almost as an afterthought.

"And when would I start Sir?" Susan Berrit hadn't thought to ask about the pay check, it had slipped her mind until 'Mr. Mystery' commented on it.

"As soon as you wish, the subject was moved to Headquarters this morning." Seriously; did this guy have any emotion? Susan found herself pondering as her superior continued on.

"How does Monday sound? I should have a team by then."

Military Headquarters, later that week

When Susan climbed out of the jeep she nearly dropped to the ground in praise. A three hour drive in an open vehicle going probably 90 miles an hour through an unpopulated New Mexican desert was not what she had expected of her morning. The scientist did however miss the rushing wind flow, as she stood there she finally became aware of the blistering 102 degree weather beating down all around her. Three more jeeps pulled up shortly, the six other members of her team climbing out to join her. "Let's do this!" cried Brody, one of the younger specialists in the group; his upbeat attitude roused some laughs from the other men and women as they headed into the building.

Susan couldn't help but laugh when they made it to the designated labs; her teammates looked like children in a candy store. "Okay, according to this, the subject is down that hall in room E07. Its vitals are on level and the sedatives have taken effect." Susan said, basically summarizing the report on her designated tablet, and continued scanning through the readings to see what they were working with.

"Well that just tells us everything." Came Brody's sarcastic reply as they all made their way to the room. No, this wasn't a room Susan quickly realized, this was an examination cell. Looking through the large observation window she saw a white room-the window is probably windowed-she quickly realized. The only color in the otherwise blindingly white room was the two metal carts sitting just next to the door, a depressing fact Susan later thought. Sitting on an operating table in the center of the room was the Mutant, it was covered in a thin white sheet almost like a corpse, monitor wires and IVs streamed from under the thin covering like an eerie spider web. Well here goes. The scientist told herself, gathering her thoughts as she made her entrance. Out of the seven people in the team, only four entered along side her, the other three were taking notes from behind the mirrored glass.

As they circled the table the room seemed to take on a foreboding air. In a move of bravery, one of the other scientists slowly peeled back the covering, laying it on one of the carts as everyone else stared. The subject was a child, a little boy they could blatantly tell; he was pretty banged up, bruises, burns, and cuts marring his tanned skin. This kid had gotten himself in deep somewhere. The burns on his face looked more like someone had splattered ink onto his skin, the substance (or possibly skin) was charred black patterns reminiscent of a Jackson Pollock* painting, the surrounding area taking on a pink agitated color. Looking closer, Susan could also see several older wounds; the most prominent was a not-quite healed cut, forming a jagged white line across the corner of his left eye.

"Let's get him cleaned up first boys, it'll be easier to see what all's going on here." A researcher, Sandra, said slowly, still examining the still figure. One of the scientists brought a tub of water over, surgical sponges and clean rags lay next to the plastic tub on top of the cart. After scrubbing the boy down they moved on to cleaning the wounds and aberrations that decorated his body, the boy twitched almost imperceptibly when Susan dabbed rubbing alcohol onto a particularly gnarled burn patch on his elbow and again when she moved on to the splatters on his face and neck. Believing they were done one of the male scientists hefted the boy up, so that they could change the sheet before they moved on; when he placed the boy down he noticed a sticky maroon substance on his wrist, where he had supported the boys head. Sure enough, buried underneath the thick and unkempt black locks was another jagged cut, apparently the child had quite the run-in to have cracked his head open, and eighteen stitches later, they were back on the track to research.

…

Darkness. That was the first thing the boy remembered. At first frightening, the blank void was beginning to seem less like empty space and more like a blanket, enveloping and protecting him from whatever lay outside its cozy embrace. To be honest, he would have been fine with staying there, simply floating for the rest of time, however all good things come to an end. He didn't know when-or why for that matter-they had started, but some time not too long ago, he had begun being 'prodded'; moments when he could feel something touching him, hurting him he realized. Uncomfortable sensations such as stinging, the prick of sharp objects, and even an almost freezing sensation; all of which he found he could do nothing about, no matter how hard he tried. The boy also found that the darkness seemed to be growing thinner; at times he could barely see light, a milky haze every now and then, as if looking under water. These phantasmal occurrences began growing longer and closer together; more colors joined the fog, such as yellows and browns, a peach color or silver even.

Eventually he stopped trying to decipher these moments, simply waiting for something else to happen.

Watching,

Waiting,

Listening.

…

The entire team was baffled by the child. During the first day of research they continued to find things about the boy that definitely weren't in the report; things such as three broken ribs, a previously punctured lung, a fractured tibia, as well as a concussion. The only 'mutant' thing about the child was the DNA strands they found, whether if it was ingestion or injection they couldn't figure out, but the child had recently come into contact with very powerful chemicals; the affect wouldn't be permanent, but it would he would carry it, and its effects, for quite some time. Throughout the research process they had kept the boy on a steady stream of sedatives, making sure to keep him unconscious as they worked on him.

Today the team was going to officially stop sedating the boy; having done all the tests they could think of to an unresponsive subject their director decided they needed some 'live' results now. For the entire week they had been weaning the boy of the powerful drugs, and now all they had to do was wait.

Sandra and Susan had walked into the lab when it happened. They heard heavy footfalls and barked orders, the yells from their team members, and decided to see what had happened. A large troop of men in heavy suits marched through the base, guns aimed at any person who stood in their way. One of the burly members dragged the two women over to the wall facing the cell, ordering them to stand still.

"Well, well, well." Came a deep voice. SHIELD director Nick Fury stepped through the wall of soldiers. "It seems a friend of mine has been dealing under the table. Were you aware that you are handling SHIELD property?" the question was rhetorical, the tall man turned around before either could stutter a reply. "Doesn't matter. All that matters is that you hand it over quietly. You will be paid your dues, debriefed, and relocated, easy as that. Or if you refuse, we could do it the hard way, and you'd be leaving with Tiny over there." Fury said evenly, motioning to the large man who had ushered them into the hall.

"What did we take?!" Sandra asked, believing they had done nothing worthy of penitence.

"A… 'Ward' of ours," The SHIELD director replied, searching for the right word before motioning to the cell. "And I don't like people playing with my stuff, so I'm taking it back." The comment was delivered sarcastically, though not taking away from any of the serious feeling left hanging in the air.

"Just take him, we have the reports, you can take those too. Just please don't do anything rash." Susan reasoned. This attempt at peace only gained an eye roll from Sandra "It's a little late for that." Berrit's friend reasoned sourly.

The team could only watch as the lab was stripped right before their eyes. The last thing to leave was the subject; the boy was still out cold as the gurney bounced over the dirt pathway outside the building. And that was the end of that.

SHIELD Helicarrier

"I want a full report on him in five minutes gentlemen, that's an order. I want records of everything they did, and if necessary, a way to reverse or complete it." Fury shot off demands and answers, never stopping he made his way to the bridge. "Call Agent Barton, They need to assemble."

*Jackson Pollock was a 1950's artist, famous for his starting trend of 'splatter paintings

Any guesses on who the boy is? I promise he's canon, he's just normally around 40 years old, and has a bird, hint hint.