Chapter 205 - My SI Stash #5 - A Stark Contrast by LordofAdmirals117 (MCU)

-More SI MCU fics~ Recently published with consistent updates, and also SI as Tony Stark's son.

Sypnosis: Reincarnation is the philosophical or religious concept that the non-physical essence of a living being starts a new life in a different physical form or body after biological death. Unknown to Tony Stark, Maya Hansen gives birth to a son, who is trying to save the world because that's what a Stark does. (Iron Son Self-Insert)

Rated: T

Words: 16K

Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/13514867/1/A-Stark-Contrast (LordofAdmirals117)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

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Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)

New York City, New York

Harry Hansen stared at his reflection in the dirty, cracked mirror and questioned his sanity. He wasn't shaking, and his palms weren't sweaty. He wasn't nervous. It was just a cold, calculated assessment of his abilities and his odds for survival. He went over the plan once more from beginning to end, and again concluded it was likely that he would be severely beaten, tortured, and possibly killed. Still, even in the face of such prospects, he couldn't bring himself to walk away, which brought him right smack dab back to the part about his mental health. What kind of man willingly chose to do this kind of thing? Harry thought about it for a long moment.

A hero.

While someone else might have been content to sit on their hands, it wasn't in Harry's nature to do so. His mother and Killian had already done too much damage. Chad Davis was dead, along with five others. If he let them continue, there would be more death, more destruction. All placed at the feet of a bumbling fool. A.I.M. gad without question already began creating the Mandarin to hide their involvement in the bombing. They would use Trevor and his false crusade against America as a smokescreen while they continued not only to ruin lives but take them as well for nothing more than a profit.

That was the savage truth, and if his mother could delude herself into thinking otherwise, it just meant there was something broken in her that couldn't be fixed. He wasn't going to kill her. However, S.H.I.E.L.D. had many facilities where she would be safe, contained. Not a danger to others or herself.

After months of working with the very people who handled situations like this, Harry decided to look for a solution on his own. The bureaucrats and secret HYDRA agents back in Washington might be content if Maya Hansen, one of A.I.M.'s top scientist, wasn't taken alive, but Harry was not. He might not have been a conventional son, but she was still his mother, and it didn't matter what she was involved in. He didn't want her to die.

Harry eyed his fractured reflection; his thick, uncombed head of brown hair and beard, his tanned skin and his eyes so dark that they were almost black. With the Photostatic Veil, he could hide his identity from his enemies; however, he could not change his height. To the men coming for him, he looked similar yet different enough to one of his favorite actors, Pinker Dinklage.

He thought of his training and everything he'd done so far. The short life he lived in the world would be over, and that meant Thanos would win. The Mad Titan would snap his fingers, and half the universe would cease to exist. But if he didn't, then Maya would die, and it would be his fault. He'd wake up each morning and got to bed each night with the nagging thought that he should have done something.-anything. And ultimately, he would emasculate himself by question the size of his balls for as long as he lived. Harry shuddered at the thought. He might be a little crazy, but he'd read enough Greek tragedies to understand that a life with that kind recrimination would eventually lead him to the psych ward where he would be no use to anyone. No, he thought, I'd rather go down trying to save someone.

He nodded to himself and took a deep breath before walking over to the window. Harry gently pulled back the curtains and looked down at the street. The two Extremis soldiers from A.I.M. were still positioned across the street, keeping an eye on his apartment building. Harry had left a trail in the net when he hacked A.I.M., and they had shown up days later. S.H.I.E.I.L.D. was no doubt on the lookout for him too, not that they knew what his new face looked like. He was playing a risky game, but there was only one avenue open to him, and there was no sense in delaying what had to be done.

Harry scribbled a note and left it on the small desk in the corner. He gathered his sunglasses and his coat and headed for the door. The elevator was broken, so he walked the two flights to the lobby. The man behind the front desk looked nervous, which Harry took as a sign that someone had talked to him. He continued out the front door and looked up and down the street. From behind his sunglasses, he pretended not to see Killian's lackeys. He turned right and started heading east.

Within half a block, Harry's nervous system began sending his brain alarms, each more frantic than the last. It took every ounce of control to override his training and millions of years of basic survival instincts that were embedded like code in the human brain.

Up ahead, the familiar black car was parked across the street. Harry ignored the man behind the wheel and turned down a narrow side street. Just thirty steps ahead was a well-dressed man was standing in front of a shop. His right leg was straight and firmly planted on the pavement, and his left bent up behind him and placed against the side of the building. He was resting against the building while he chewed on a stick of gum.

The man was Eric Savin, Killian's number one thug. The footfalls from behind Harry were echoing like heavy shoes on the stone floor of an empty parking garage. Harry could hear the pace of his pursuers quicken. A car engine revved, no doubt the black sedan he'd already spotted. With every step, Harry could feel them closing in from behind. His mind ran through scenarios with increasing rapidly, looking for any way out of the impending disaster.

They were close now. Harry could feel them. Literally, because of the heat they were generating. Savin spat his gum out and pushed himself away from the building. He smiled at Harry and produced a pistol from his jacket. Harry feigned surprise and turned to run. The two men were exactly where he expected them to be, guns drawn, one pointed at Harry's head, the other at his chest.

The sedan skidded to a stop just to his right, the trunk, and the front passenger door swinging open. Harry knew what was next. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as Savin cracked him across the back of the head with his pistol. Harry stumbled forward and willingly fell into the arms of the two men with guns. He let his legs go slack, big arms wrapped around his chest and held him upright. They dragged him the short distance to the car's trunk. Harry landed headfirst with a thump. The rest of his body was folded in on top of him, and the trunk slammed shut.

The engine roared, and the tires peeled against the pavement until they found a grip. Harry was thrown back as the car shot forward. He slowly cracked his eyes, and as expected, he found himself in total darkness. His head was throbbing a bit from the blow, but it could have been worse. There was no fear on his face or doubt in his mind, though—just a smile on his lips as he thought about his plan. The seeds of disinformation that he had spread had drawn them out just as he'd hoped. His captors had no idea of the true intent of the man they now had in their possession, and more importantly, no idea of the violence and pain he was about to visit upon them.

Inspired by the line in Iron Man 3 where Tony asks Maya if a twelve-year-old is waiting out in the car. The idea snowballed into this story.

Heavily rewritten from the original story

Reviews are welcomed and appreciated!

Chapter 2

New York City, New York

(One Year Earlier)

Nick Fury was having one hell of a week. As the Director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, simply S.H.I.E.L.D., he'd had bad weeks before. The hostage situation in Bogotá and the alien invasion in '95 came to mind when he thought about his worst weeks.

No, Fury was no stranger to a bad week. However, this past week? It made '95 look like a vacation. He couldn't believe so much had gone wrong in such a short amount of time. General Ross had found a lead on Banner that led to the Hulk fighting Emil Blonsky, a deranged soldier-turned-monster Ross helped create by injecting him with a Super Soldier Serum that had been put on ice for a reason. Thor, the actual God of Thunder, had leveled a small town in New Mexico fighting against some alien robot called the Destroyer.

And then there was Stark.

One week earlier, Fury had been awakened by a phone call and was informed that in 72 hours, Tony Stark would be dead. When he arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Coulson informed him that he had picked up an atmospheric disturbance above New Mexico and requested to go and research it. Fury, however, did not believe in its credibility and instead ordered Coulson to stay at Headquarters.

Later he had been informed by a S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist that Stark had high levels of Palladium in his bloodstream, which was causing his health to deteriorate and given lithium dioxide to delay the poisoning. Fury contacted Natasha Romanoff, who had been in the middle of a duel between Colonel Rhodes and Iron Man. He told her he would be there soon and not to blow her cover.

After his birthday brawl, Stark flew away, and Fury attempted to speak to the World Security Council; however, they were not available. Coulson tried to show him the satellite readings he found, but Fury made the mistake of not listening. Soon afterward, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent located Stark and Fury met up with Romanoff and they both went to confront Stark at Randy's Donuts.

After passing Howard's research along to his son, Fury had thought that'd be the end of his trouble with Stark. For the moment anyway. No, Hammer had to go and stage a jailbreak for Ivan Vanko and recruit the man to make Iron Man suits for Hammer Industries. Vanko hadn't made suits; he used Hammer's resources and built a small army of drones that attacked Stark at the Stark Expo.

And even after all that, the week still wasn't over.

Natasha had been in Hammer Industries when the Hammer Drones were exploding. Vanko's last-ditch effort to kill Stark. Her report showed that one of the Army Drones hadn't been destroyed and its locator deactivated. Now, someone somewhere had access to Arc Reactor technology.

"Director?"

Fury turned around. Phil Coulson, one of his most trusted agents, stood in the doorway to his office.

"We've located the Hammer Drone, sir," Coulson said. "It's still in New York."

"Stark?" Fury asked.

Coulson shook his head, folding his hands behind his back. "We do not believe so, sir. Mr. Stark doesn't legally own the building."

"And illegally?"

"Unknown, sir," Coulson answered.

Standing from his chair, Fury walked to the window overlooking the Potomac. From here, he had a view of D.C. some people would pay thousands of dollars for. He got if for free. All he had to do was protect the United States from threats, foreign and domestic. His job, to others, but he didn't see it as such. It was a responsibility to protect his home. To do that, he needed to stay ten steps ahead, in intelligence, manpower, and technology. Right now, he was behind in all of those but one.

S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists lacked the intelligence needed to recreate Stark's Iron man armor, and without that technology, they couldn't combat terrorists like Ivan Vanko.

The Hammer drones were the only piece of Arc reactor technology not in Stark's hands. And given that Stark was keeping his cards close to his chest, they had been the only chance S.H.E.I.L.D. had to get something even close to Stark's tech.

"Take a team." He ordered. "Bring me that drone."

"Yes, sir." Coulson nodded and exited the room leaving Fury alone with his thoughts.

Every drone Justin Hammer had put on display had been destroyed when Vanko forced them to self-destruct. All but one. One out of thirty-two, and they had no clue as to who had not only been able to stop the self-destruction but steal away a man-sized robot without anyone knowing. And hide it in an American city.

Not only were the thieves smart, but they were also c.o.c.ky, and that was a dangerous combination. Whoever was working on the drone needed to be stopped.

Queens, New York City

"Let's move," Coulson ordered, drawing his pistol as the men under his command held up assault rifles. All six of the barrels pointing at the townhouse across the street.

"Signals are coming from the bas.e.m.e.nt. Prisoners are preferable, but shoot to kill at your own discretion."

Coulson led the team forward, glad they blocked off the street before they came in. If civilians saw seven men in full tactical gear and carrying automatic weapons, whoever was in that bas.e.m.e.nt would be alerted by their screams.

"Rumlow, you're on point. Rolin's get the door."

Pressing his shoulder against the brick wall of the townhouse, with two men behind him and the rest of the team on the other side of the yellow-painted door, Coulson nodded as Rolin's kneeled burning through the door lock with the Mouse Hole.

One by one, they filed into the small stairway. "Light's on," Coulson ordered as the door closed behind them, locking the team in the dark.

At the bottom of the steps was another door.

"Break it down."

"Yes, sir." Rolin's tucked the Mouse Hole away in his vest and moved to the side as another agent stepped forward, holding a battering ram. Grabbing the right side, he nodded as Rumlow counted down.

"Three...two...one!"

The wooden door flew from its hinges, and Coulson entered the bas.e.m.e.nt behind Rumlow, who was already yelling orders.

"SHIELD! Get down on your knees! On your knees!"

Clearing the room as the rest of the team entered, Coulson stopped letting STRIKE do their job. He had his own job.

"Prisoner secured, sir."

"Coulson!" Fury barked over the radio.

Staring at the drone standing in the corner, Coulson brought a hand up to his ear. "We've got it, sir. The drone is here, and the prisoner is secured."

"Get off me!"

Turning around, Coulson circled the workbench covered in tools so he could get eyes on the prisoner. Shit. He winced. Being held under Rumlow's knee was a small figure squirming as he tried to get free. Too small to be an a.d.u.l.t.

"Sir, we've got a problem."

Chapter 3

Harry Howard Hansen removed the blindfold covering his face. The black BMW rocked its way down a rutted dirt road, a plume of dust corkscrewing into the hot air. The blindfold was a precaution in case he failed, which was something Harry had no intention of doing. He stared out the window at the line of trees that bracketed the lane. Even with the bright sun, he couldn't see more than twenty feet into the dark maze of trees and underbrush.

A foreboding premonition wormed its way into his thoughts and sent Harry's mind diving into a place he did not want to go. At least not this afternoon. Still, a frown creased his brow as Harry wondered how many men had died in this particular forest, and he wasn't thinking of men who had fought in the Revolutionary War hundreds of years ago. No, he thought, trying to be completely honest with himself. Death was too opened-ended a word for it. It left the possibility that some accident had taken the life of a person, and that was a convenient way to skirt the seriousness of what he was getting himself into. Executed was a far more accurate word. The men he was thinking of had been marched into these woods, shot in the back of the head, and dumped into freshly dug graves never to be heard from again. That was the world Harry was about to enter, and he was utterly and completely at peace with his decision.

Still, a sliver of doubt cut through the curtains in his mind and caused a flash of hesitation. Harry wrestled with it for a brief moment and stuffed it back into the deepest recesses of his brain. It was far too late for second thoughts. He'd be over this, under it, and around it. He'd studied it from every conceivable since the day he had woken up in this world and began his new life. In a strange way, he had known from almost the first moment he opened his eyes.

He had been waiting for someone to show up, though Harry had never told anyone that. Or that the only way he could cope with the burden that was future knowledge was to plot to save the world. That every single night before he went to sleep, he thought of the network of people who had to die so the world could live. It was all logical to him. Enemies needed to be killed, and Harry was more than willing to become the person who would do that killing. He knew what was about to happen. He was to be trained, honed, and forged into a precision weapon, and then he would begin to hunt them down—every last one of the people who were conspiring to kill millions of innocent civilians.

The car began to slow, and Harry looked up to see a rusted cattle gate with a chain and padlock. His brow furrowed with suspicion.

The man driving the vehicle glanced at him and said, "You were expecting something a little more high tech?"

Harry nodded.

Phil Coulson put the car in park and said, "Appearances can be deceiving." He flipped down the visor above his head and pressed the small button on the gray box clipped to it. The gate swung open.

Coulson pulled the car through the gate. One hundred yards later, he slowed the vehicle to a crawl and maneuvered diagonally in an effort to avoid a large pothole.

"Why no security on the perimeter?" Harry asked.

"The high-tech systems...more often than not...they draw too much unwanted attention. They also give a lot of false alarms, which in turn requires a lot of manpower. That's not what this place is about."

"What about dogs?" Harry asked.

Coulson liked the way he was thinking. As if on cue, two hounds came galloping around the bend. The dogs charge straight at the vehicle. Coulson stopped and waited for them to get out of the way. Moments later, after snarling and baring their teeth, they turned and bolted back in the direction they'd come from.

Coulson took his foot off the brake and proceeded up the lane. "The Director," Coulson said. "The man you're going to meet."

"The guy who decides whether I live or die," Harry said sarcastically.

"The Director isn't going to kill you. You're just a kid."

Harry thought about that statement for a moment and said, "I want to believe that, I do. But I can't."

Fury was the Director of S.H.E.I.L.D. and had a duty to the world. S.H.E.I.L.D. had already killed a child when push came to shove. Harry had thrown the dice stealing the Hammer Drone, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

Coulson as silent. Then he spoke. "The Director's not going to kill you. I'm sorry about what happened in New York, but we had no intelligence that suggested you were a child. If we had, we wouldn't have sent a strike team."

Harry disagreed with that but kept his mouth shut and his face a mask of neutrality.

"Just try to remember...you're more valuable alive," Coulson said.

Harry smiled inwardly. That's where you're wrong, he thought. I'm more dangerous alive. When he responded, however, he was compliant.

"I will," Harry said in an easy tone. "Anyone else going to be joining us?"

If there was one thing that made him nervous, it was this. The other people at the meeting. He had no idea who Fury could be bringing to the meeting. S.H.E.I.L.D. was crawling with Hydra agents.

Around the next bend, the landscape opened up before them. A freshly mowed lawn roughly the size of a football field ran along both sides of the lane all the way to a two-story cabin. The place looked like a rural postcard complete with a set of rocking chairs on the porch.

A man appeared from inside the house. He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a manila folder in the other, his black trench coat flapping behind him.

Harry looked through the bug-shattered windshield at the Director of S.H.E.I.L.D. Even from across the yard, he could see the displeased look on the Director's face.

"Wait here for a moment," Coulson said as he put the car in park. He unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the vehicle, casually walking across the gravel driveway. Dressed in his black G-man suit, he looked out of place in the middle of the woods. Stopping at the base of the porch, he said, "Director, I brought him."

Nick Fury glanced down at Coulson and felt a twinge of guilt. The rookie he had met in '95 was one of the few people in the world he trusted. He'd known Coulson longer than any of his trusted agents. He'd watched him grow from a rookie to a veteran agent, even helped train him before he became Director.

Fury was well aware that Coulson wasn't a typical S.H.E.I.L.D. agent that would blindly follow orders. It was why after '95, he took a special interest in him. He also knew that Coulson would not be happy about kidnapping a child. No matter who the kid's father was. So he kept things brief and simply said, "We'll handle it from here, Coulson."

Coulson had been expecting and dread9ing this moment for some weeks. Usually, Fury would have kept him in the loop about potential recruits. Barton, Romanoff, even Stark. So he asked, "What are we doing, sir?"

Fury ignored his question, and pointedly asked, "Why is he still in the car."

"I told him to wait," Coulson admitted, and then he said, "Sir, S.H.E.I.L.D. isn't a Boy Scout Camp."

"No, we're an extra-governmental military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency tasked with maintaining both national and global security." Fury retorted. "And we are failing at our jobs. The world is filling up with people and technology that we can't match, Coulson."

"And you think the kid is our ticket into the big leagues, sir?"

"Do you know anyone other than Stark capable of creating Arc Reactors?" Fury asked rhetorically.

The normally stoic or smiling Coulson allowed a bit of irritation to show. The only other person capable of recreating Stark technology had blown himself up in New York weeks ago trying to kill Stark.

Fury looked down at him. He could see Coulson was unhappy with him. I didn't become Director by winning a popularity contest. He thought, and so he held his ground. "I think you should take a drive agent."

"I'd rather stay, sir," Coulson said, stood like a sphinx, refusing to yield his position.

The Director took a step back and turned to walk back into the house. "Bring him in," he said over his shoulder. "Romanoff doesn't like to be kept waiting."

In the car, Harry watched Fury vanish back into the house, his trench coat last to cross through the doorway. Coulson waved him up, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he opened his door and stepped out of the vehicle.

He walked up to the house, past Coulson at the porch, and through the doorway. Coulson followed behind him, trapping him in the house in case he decided to run. He wouldn't. Harry had been waiting his entire life for this meeting. This was where he could finally start making a difference in the world.

Fury obviously didn't care that he was a child, or he wouldn't have had Coulson kidnap him. That was what he needed. He didn't have time to wait until he was eighteen. By then, Thanos would have snapped his fingers, and half the world would be gone.

In the kitchen of the cabin, Fury was eating a plate of dinner at the table. Potatoes and steak, with a glass of milk. Behind him, bent over, looking through the fridge was a red-hair woman in a skin-tight black outfit. Harry assumed she was Natasha Romanoff.

She stood up and turned around. I was right. Harry thought as he stared at the beautiful woman. He couldn't believe he was actually in the room as the Black Widow.

"You don't seem surprised to see us," Fury said, piercing a potato cube with his fork. He pointed the food at Harry. "You knew we were coming for you."

"I did," Harry confirmed. Lying wouldn't help him here. Not in front of three spies who lied for a living. "When I took the Hammer Drone, I always knew it was a possibility S.H.E.I.L.D. would come for me."

Natasha pulled up at a chair and sat down at the table, pushing Fury's plate across the table. As she leaned forward, her suit tightened around her body, making her b.r.e.a.s.ts more pronounced. Harry averted his eyes. He had a feeling he knew what Fury was doing. Natasha was here to distract the little boy who couldn't control his hormones. Well, that's not going to work on me. He thought. A pair of b.r.e.a.s.ts wasn't going to distract.

He glanced back down. No matter how nice a pair they were.

Natasha's lips curled in a slight smile as she leaned back in her chair. "Hi," she said.

"Hello," Harry said with a smile of his own.

Fury reached his arm out and pulled the plate back to his side of the table. "You're in a whole lot of trouble, kid," he said, slicing into the steak.

Harry glanced away from Natasha. The Director was staring at him, and Harry decided to have a little fun.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to get off on the wrong foot," he said. "Am I supposed to look at the eye or the patch?"

Fury scoffed and leaned back in his chair. Natasha's smile twitched, and her eyes flicked to Fury. Harry knew why. He had just said the same thing Tony Stark had said in Iron Man 2, almost word for word.

"What do you know about your father, Mr. Hansen?" Fury asked, tapping the manila folder lying next to his dinner. "Do you know who he is?"

"You mean do I know that he is Tony Stark," Harry said. "Or do you mean that he probably doesn't remember my mom? No, maybe it's, 'do I know' that Obadiah Stane paid my mother a ridiculous amount of money every year to keep me out of the spotlight because it would be bad for my father's business?"

"You seem pretty confident," Fury's eye narrowed. "You have no idea how much trouble you're in, do you? Let me make it simple, kid. You were caught on American soil with a weapon of mass destruction. I could put you in a hole and throw away the hole, and no one would bat an eye."

"You could, but you won't," Harry said. "If you were going to do that, I wouldn't be here. You want something from me. And I'm inclined to give it to you."

"What makes you think you know what I want?" Fury asked, pushing the plate of dinner across the table again.

Harry took it as a sign that he had the Director's attention. "It's pretty obvious what you S.H.E.I.L.D. wants. What it needs really," he said, reaching across the table for the extra set of silverware Fury hadn't been using.

"What's that?" Natasha cut in. Her voice smooth, and the slightest bit seductive.

"Better technology. Stronger agents." Harry pierced a piece of steak Fury had cut with his fork. "I think it's not a stretch to say that we're not alone in the universe. That crap-show in New Mexico is proof of that. Proof that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned."

Fury sat up in his chair. Harry knew the Director agreed with his assessment. Hell, Fury would have said those exact same words if he hadn't said them first. Maybe he still would.

"Go on." the Director said.

"It's not even just space that is leaving S.H.E.I.L.D. behind. Stark, Banner, whatever the hell Ross turned Blonsky into," Harry said around a mouthful of food. "The world is filling up with people who can't be matched."

Fury raised his eyebrow. "You seem to know a lot."

"I hacked S.H.E.I.L.D." Harry shrugged. "And the Army. Hammer industries too. The only thing I couldn't break into was my dad's company."

Mostly because he didn't try. Now wasn't the time for Tony Stark to know he had a son.

"All of what you just said is highly illegal." Fury said. "Why admit it?"

"You already said if you wanted to, you could put me in a hole and throw away the hole," Harry said. "What's the point of playing coy?"

Fury folded his arms and thought long and hard before he spoke. "And what can you offer us?"

Harry had to physically resist rolling his eyes. Instead of doing that, he asked, "What do you want?"

"What do you have?" Fury countered.

God, he's really dragging this out. Harry thought, setting his fork and knife down as he said, "I can give you Arc Reactor technology...and Super-soldiers."

Fury's hand smack down onto the table, his fork bounced away with a loud clang. "This isn't a game. You've stepped into a world a lot bigger than you, kid. A world you don't understand."

Harry frowned. "I thought you'd be excited at the prospect of more super-soldiers. Granted, they're not going to be Captain America, but they'll be stronger than any normal human."

"You can make more super-soldiers?" Natasha asked. "People have been trying to recreate Dr. Erskine's serum since the forties."

"And that's the problem," Harry said. "They were trying to recreate a serum. My Project O.R.I.O.N. biochemically augments the human body."

He could feel the skepticism in the air. It was practically palpable. Harry didn't blame the agents for their disbelief. Captain America had been the only successful super-soldier in history. Every other attempt had been a disaster. Banner and Blonsky were the latest of probably a long history of screw-ups.

"I understand if you're reluctant to believe me," Harry said. "I've never actually augmented someone before, but my math's never been wrong before."

"Oh, I believe you." Fury said, his words contrasting with the deep frown on his face. "You're being awfully complaint for someone who we just threatened. Why?"

So suspicious. Harry sighed. He couldn't say he was surprised. The MCU had made it very clear that Nick Fury was a paranoid and suspicious man.

"If my calculations are right, and they always are," He said, "The likelihood of our next contact with the extraterrestrial being hostile is 92%."

It was a complete lie. There wasn't any math that pointed to such a thing. Harry just needed a way to warn Fury about the Chitauri invasion.

"That's why I'm willing to offer my help," Harry said, "Despite our...rocky start."

"What about this?" Fury pulled another file from his leather coat. He set it on the table and flipped it open. "Think you can do something with it?"

Harry pulled the folder towards him. The Tesseract. He flipped through the photos, each taken at a different angle but always being centered on the glowing blue square.

"The Tesseract." He said with a nod. Howard Stark had studied it for decades. "Give me a few months. I think I could figure something out. I'll need access to my lab though."

"Lab?" Fury asked. "You think your bas.e.m.e.nt has better tech than S.H.E.I.L.D.?"

"No, I think I can turn Hammer Industries labs into something respectable. And better than S.H.E.I.L.D." Harry replied.

"Why would you have access to Hammer Industries labs?" Natasha asked.

Harry smirked. Thanos had been half right when he spoke on Titan about knowledge being a curse. Living with the knowledge of the future and what would happen to the universe in less than a decade sucked most of the time, but other times it was extremely helpful. Like when he knew to siphon money from Hammer's offshore accounts and use it buy up stocks in Hammer Industries after Stark's senate hearing.

"I own the company." He answered. "Well, not me me. But a fake a.d.u.l.t I created. It's all legal. Except for the fake a.d.u.l.t part."

"And where'd you get the money to buy a multi-million dollar company like Hammer Industries?" Natasha smirked. "Stane didn't send that much money."

"Hammer made a few donations before he started working with a terrorist."

"I don't care." Fury said. "If you can do what you say you can, we'll let you keep Hammer Industries."

"Guess we're partners then."

Fury stood up and held out his hand. "We're going to do a lot of good things together, Mr. Hansen."

As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated!