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S.T.O.R.M. Force (MCU Fanfic)


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This story is a commission from @Edward45, and it's going to be a pretty long one so strap in! It's a story set in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, a few months after upcoming movie Captain Marvel 2 (so it involves some guesswork as to what will happen in the MCU between now and then). That places it several years after the events of Avengers: Endgame. It also includes some characters who are in the comics but not the MCU, but we're going to imagine that they exist in this universe too and are just yet to be introduced on-screen. It will include both pee and poop scenes but also a lot of story. Oh, and also it's pretty likely that we'll be taking some creative liberties with a few details about some characters like sexuality and some powers. Enjoy!
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Episode One
Chapter One

The staff at Hammer Industries had never known anything like it. They came into work that morning to find that security had been boosted tenfold, as if the company had been bought out by a billionaire with trust issues. Every fire exit was locked and bolted. CCTV cameras were checked, double checked and connected to a backup monitor. Armed men stood at the gates, guarding them like gargoyles. Everyone in the building was on red alert, and so none of them noticed the dark-haired woman who walked straight through the front door. 

Indeed, the receptionist, Daniel, barely glanced up from his computer screen as she walked in. She carried herself as though she belonged, dressed in the same smart-casual getup as every other miserable soul there, walking with purpose past the front desk and towards a pair of elevators at the back of the room. The left one was open, waiting, and she disappeared behind the sliding doors in seconds. By the time Daniel realised he should really check her ID if he wanted to keep his job, she was already gone.

Once inside, the woman pressed a button and took a look at herself in one of the mirrors that lined three walls of the lift. She couldn’t get used to her hair. To people who didn’t know her, she was sure it would look convincing enough, but to her eyes this near-black shade was just wrong. She only had a few seconds to contemplate it before the tiny piece in her ear crackled into life. 

“How’s it going, Pepper?” came Nick Fury’s voice. As ever, if he was feeling nervous, his tone didn’t betray him.

“So far, so good,” she replied, adjusting her jacket in the mirror. “They’ve been expecting me. The place is crawling with security”. 

He laughed. “I’m guessing that didn’t stop you”. 

“I don’t think they even noticed me,” Pepper said, “they were probably expecting someone taller, with a little more penis”. 

“Who said misogyny is never useful? Anyway, I’m here if you need me,” Nick told her.

“I’ll be in touch,” she said. The elevator ringed and the doors slid open. Pepper slipped out into an empty corridor, which ended in floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking New York City. There wasn’t likely to be many people on any of the floors; only essential staff were inside while the rest of the workforce were given the day off to celebrate the anniversary of the Blip. That had become customary across most of the world in the years since Bruce Banner- Professor Hulk, they called him now, but to Pepper he'd always be Bruce- had snapped half of the population back into existence. It was also why today had been the perfect day for Pepper to infiltrate Hammer Industries.

This was as high as the building went. There was no time to admire the view. Up here there was just one office, and it had been empty for a very long time. It stood at the end of the hall, the only room on this top floor other than one marked with a minimalist icon of a man- the universal symbol for a toilet. On the office door was a golden plaque that read

JUSTIN HAMMER

CEO

Pepper knew from Nick’s sources that this office had gone untouched since the last inhabitant had been incarcerated, but it still surprised her to see it there, gathering dust, waiting for the return of a man who might never be allowed back. She was less surprised to find the door locked. From her bag she extracted a small pick which dealt with that issue in seconds. She wanted to get this over with for two reasons: she was due to make a public appearance in an hour, and she had to pee.

In the years since her husband’s death, as she’d found herself getting more and more involved in field work, Pepper had found that the nerves that came with a mission were almost always accompanied by needing the bathroom more frequently. If she was lucky, it was just her bladder that acted up. Those nerves were one of the reasons why she’d initially resisted the offers of what she called Tony Work- the kinds of tasks she’d left to the superheroes and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents for a big chunk of her life. But after a while, she’d realised she missed them, and soon the temptation to was too much to resist. Breaking into offices like this one was her specialty. Nobody suspected an ordinary woman like Pepper. 

Being ordinary meant she still had ordinary bathroom habits, though, so she was keen to hurry up. Pepper headed straight for the computer and was relived to hear it turn on when she pressed the button. While she waited for the thing to power up, she reached around in her bag for a second item- one that looked, at least at first glance, like a common memory stick. It was not a common memory stick. 

Pepper plugged it in and let it do its thing. She gave a cursory glance to the progress bar that had appeared in the corner of the screen- three minutes needed, by estimation. That gave her enough time to satisfy the need that had been growing in her for the last half an hour. Careful not to close the door too loudly, she slipped out of the office and into the bathroom, which turned out to be a single room with a toilet, sink and mirror. She could only wonder how many times Hammer had peed in here. Not that it mattered; she only really cared about the pee she was about to unload. It was breaking all sorts of rules of undercover work, but Pepper was past the point of caring. Besides, if she wet her pants on the way back to the lobby she would obviously draw attention to herself, which was exactly what she had to avoid if the plan was to stand any chance of working.

So she lifted her skirt, pulled her underwear down just enough and took a seat. The relief was instantaneous and gorgeous. She closed her eyes to enjoy it, alone in the room with nothing but the sound of that forceful tinkling into the bowl. The ache in her bladder evaporated, replaced swiftly by a warm sensation of release. In her younger days she had been able to go long hours without needing the bathroom, a skill that had come in particularly handy with Tony keeping her so busy. Pregnancy had robbed her of some of that capacity, and these days she had to be more vigilant when undercover. This hadn’t been an emergency- at no point had she worried that she might not make it- but it still felt far better out than in. 

When she was done, Pepper tore off a couple of squares of toilet paper and wiped. She couldn’t flush, though- the risk of leaving evidence was too great. Instead she scrunched up the damp paper and slid it into her bag to dispose of later. She felt ten pounds lighter. 

By the time Pepper returned to the office, the memory stick was almost done. In her bag, her phone begun to buzz. Usually a spy would be mad to answer their mobile on a mission, but this was no ordinary phone. Tony had designed it specially, and it had worked flawlessly to this day, years after he was gone. She pulled it out and accepted the call. 

“Mom, where are you?” came the exasperated voice of her eight-year-old daughter.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay?”

“The panel starts in an hour,” Morgan reminded her. Pepper was a little distracted- the device had finished copying and was undergoing the lighting-quick process of eliminating all traces that it had ever been plugged in. When it was done, she unplugged it and replaced it into her bag, taking care to shut down the computer properly.

“I’m just downtown,” Pepper said, technically not lying, “is everyone else there?”

“Yeah, everyone,” Morgan shot back, “except you. The literal Queen of Wakanda is here, mom, can you please just hurry up?”

“I’ll be right there. Love you”. Pepper hung up. She looked out the window over the deadlocked New York traffic, wondering how on earth she would get to the anniversary panel quickly enough. Thousands would be in the audience alone, with millions more watching at home. Being late wouldn’t do. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing her Rescue armour could come flying through the air to form around her like Tony’s suit had- not that she’d worn it in years. 

I guess it’s the old-fashioned way for you, Pepper, she thought, closing the office door behind her and vanishing into the elevator at the end of the hall once more. 

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Episode One
Chapter Two

 

Kamala Khan had only been out of the house for five minutes before she realised that she should’ve pooped before she left. 

 

Her first mistake was oversleeping. That wasn’t exactly a unique experience for her. Over the years Kamala had lost count of the number of days she’d been late for classes or pissed off her parents by sleeping in too long. Usually it all worked out okay- one of the perks of being a superhero was that it was often easier to get around and she could often make up for lost time on the journey- but today she had to get over the Hudson and all the way across the city before mid-day to make the panel she’d been excited for for weeks. The one event she hadn’t missed over the last few years was the annual celebrations in New York City that marked the anniversary of the big Blip, and she wouldn’t miss it this year. There was no way she was passing up the chance to see her heroes in the flesh. Even after the time she’d spent with Carol Danvers earlier that year, from which she was still starstruck, there was a magical sense of mystique about being in the same room as her, Professor Hulk, Spider-Man, Shuri and countless other heroes of the battle of Earth. She wished sometimes that she’d been there herself- and wishing she’d been at a fight was not something Kamala did often. 

 

But in the excitement she’d committed her other cardinal sin: forgetting to use the bathroom before leaving home. Kamala resented the fact that, at almost twenty years of age, excitement still made her need to go potty like she was some kid. But it was a fact of her life, and there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it. Today was no exception; she’d barely started the journey when the urge to take a poop hit. It was too late to turn back if she wanted to reach the venue in time. Her best option was to hold it in until she got there and then try and find a port-a-potty or something to unload in before the good stuff started. There had been plenty of port-a-potties available in previous years, but she’d never had to use one. No such luck this time. 

 

So she gritted her teeth through the trip on the ferry boat, and as she made her way to the subway. She’d always had what she called ‘interesting’ bowels, which was her optimistic way of saying that they were unpredictable and often irritating. When she had to go, she had to go, usually not too long after first feeling it. Still, getting to the panel on time was even more important to her than getting to the bathroom on time, which wasn’t something she was too proud of. Even when the first fart slipped out as the train was approaching her stop she didn’t let it bother her too much. It had been a quiet one, and in a busy carriage nobody was likely to identify the culprit.

 

By that point she was approaching the realms of desperate. Her gut felt full and heavy, bringing with it now a sharp pain in her bladder. That was another frustrating fact she’d had to come to accept. Her theory was that a bloated belly put extra pressure on her bladder, making her have to pee even worse. And, for some reason she couldn’t understand, those stretchy powers that had gotten her so far didn’t seem to extend to the two things she needed to extend more than anything else. 

 

When the subway finally stopped where she needed to be, Kamala emerged onto a packed platform and headed as fast as she could for a nearby flight of stairs. Almost everyone on her train seemed to be getting off here, probably for the same reason she was; the festivities every year on this day bought hundreds of thousands of people into the city. Luckily, her small stature helped Kamala to nip in front of the crowd, clenching her buttcheeks as much as was possible while she half-ran, half-walked. She had no doubt that if she’d been stuck near the back of the pack, she would likely not make it in time. 

 

She practically flew through the ticket gates, emerging onto the street above just as the cramps in her stomach were getting to be too much. Kamala was very much aware that she played it far too fast and loose with her bathroom habits, but they were just that- habits, and old habits died hard. It would have been smarter had she returned home to poop as soon as she realised she had to go, or found somewhere along the way to empty herself properly. Nothing would convince her to risk being late for the panel, though. 

 

In the end the risk paid off- just about. Approaching the outside of the venue, where she could already see what looked like at least a thousand people queuing to get in, she spotted a block of glorious blue cubicles in the same spot as usual. Kamala tended to avoid portable toilets where she could, but today they were a very welcome sight to her. Her desperate dump was crowning as she nipped into one and locked the door behind her, fumbled with her button… and got her panties down right on time. It exploded out of her with a force and a volume that turned her cheeks red. Seconds later, the pee inevitably followed, hissing against the hollow plastic. Kamala closed her eyes and thanked the heavens that she’d made it. An accident like this in her jeans would’ve been impossible to recover from, and any hope of attending the panel would’ve been gone. 

 

She glanced at her phone. Ten minutes until the heroes were due on stage. All she had to do was get this mountainous mess out of her before then. She could only hope that it flushed.

Edited by Noot (see edit history)
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Episode One
Chapter Three

Pepper breezed past security and into the dressing room with ten minutes to spare. She’d only been backstage at the venue a few times, and only ever for this panel each year, but she wasn’t used to being one of the last ones to arrive. The door opened and suddenly everything rushed at her at once- there were a over half a dozen people in the room, all of whom had played a role in the battle that had killed her husband. Some of them were people she saw every week, some she hadn’t seen in a whole year. It was the closest she would ever come again to walking into a school reunion. 

 

Nick Fury rose from his seat when Pepper entered, dressed as smart as always but in a far more civilian style. 

 

“Cutting it fine, Miss Potts,” he said, shooting her a wink that nobody else could see. 

 

“Sorry,” she said, “got caught up at work”. Over the years, Pepper had gotten very good at giving nothing away without actually lying. 

 

Morgan was sitting in the corner, looking at her with a mixture of frustration and relief. She, like Nick, wasn’t a part of the panel. But other than she and Agent Fury, every person in the room had been there when Tony had died, and his daughter meant a lot to all of them. These were the people she could feel safe around- the closest thing to an extended family she had. 

 

And then Peter was there, pulling her into a hug. She was always pleased to see him; losing Tony had bought them close together, and Morgan loved Spider-Man. He’d turned into a big-brother figure, which Pepper valued immensely. She scanned the room. It had been a small surprise when Morgan had mentioned the Princess of Wakanda, but Shuri was there, the first time she’d ever attended a panel, with Okoye by her side. T’Challa had come for the first few years, and Pepper should’ve known that the responsibility would fall to his successor after his passing. She went to them next to offer her condolences. Sam Wilson, the epitome of reliable, was there too, as ever, leaning against the wall, looking a long way from strange without his wings. Of all of them, he was surely the best at being normal. 

 

Rhodey sat in one corner, adjusting something mechanical on his waist. Like Peter, he still saw Pepper and Morgan all the time, but she appreciated having him here more than anyone. There were far fewer of the names she would usually rely on for emotional support on this day. She couldn’t resist the urge to press for answers.

 

“Where is… everyone?” she asked Nick.

 

He sighed, a long, weary sound. “Thor is off in space with some girl named Jane. The Guardians are doing their own thing, as per usual. Scott’s taken Cassie to Greece, you know she hates this time of year- too many bad memories. S.H.I.E.L.D. has literally no idea what’s going on with Wanda or Vision- nobody does, I’m sure they’ll turn up. Doctor Strange is… well, Doctor Strange”.

 

“He’s probably on some far-away mountain learning how to turn goats into concepts,” Morgan opined, “and Bruce has the flu”.

 

Pepper frowned. “Professor Hulk, the smartest and strongest living human in the world, got the flu?”

 

“His best friends are the Valkyrie and a talking pile of rocks. He’s lucky it’s just the flu,” her daughter replied. She was far too smart-mouthed for her own good. Pepper loved that about her. She got it from her father. 

 

“They wouldn’t dare skip out on a day like today when Tony and Steve were still alive,” Sam said. He clearly didn’t approve of the low turn-out. Pepper gave him a wry smile. 

 

“No, they wouldn’t,” she agreed. 

 

“Times are different, Pepper,” Nick said, “the guard is changing. There are new heroes coming through, and the old ones are starting to want to move on. Well, some of them, at least”. 

 

She knew what he meant. Clint Barton was one of the toughest people she’d ever met. He had retired not long after the big battle, unwilling to risk losing his family for a second time. If it was true that being a hero wasn’t for everyone, it was equally true that being a hero forever was for almost no-one.

 

“Will Captain Marvel make an appearance, at least?”

 

“Well, you know Carol,” he said.

 

“I don’t,” Pepper pointed out, “I’ve barely even had a conversation with her. You’re the only person in this room who seems to know her at all”. 

 

“That may be true,” Nick conceded, “but she’s turned up every year so far, and she doesn’t like to be early. In fact, I think that’s her now”. 

 

Pepper looked around, confused; she hadn’t heard the door open, and a glance over her shoulder confirmed that it was closed. Then she saw it: a faint glow poking through one of the windows high up the walls, like someone was holding a flashlight up there. But Pepper knew there was no flashlight. She watched as first the feet, then the legs, body and finally face of Carol Danvers sank into view in a controlled descent. The blonde woman smirked at them all, sitting there, and knocked smartly on the glass a few times. Then she spoke. Her voice was muffled by the thick material, but Pepper could make out the words. 

 

“Anyone wanna let me in?” she was saying.

Edited by Noot (see edit history)
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Episode One
Chapters Four, Five and Six
 

Shuri knew she should pee before she went on stage, but Pepper’s arrival had distracted her almost completely. By the time she’d remembered the growing fullness in her bladder, the group was getting to their feet, preparing to walk out in front of thousands of people. Too late now, she thought. She would have to hold it in.

 

The stage was vast, with thousands of people filling hundreds of rows of seats that stretched back too far to make out the faces of the people in the back. It was nothing Shuri wasn’t used to, nothing at all compared to her coronation, for example. Appearing in front of large crowds was part of her life, and had been for many years. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the wrong person for such a lifestyle. Sitting at the desk, answering questions about Wakanda’s role in the victory over Thanos, glorifying the bloodshed… was that really her? Her father had been a natural leader. With T’Challa, slightly less so- but he had grown into the part quickly, far more quickly than Shuri, who had always been happier in her lab. 

 

Not least because there was a bathroom in her lab. There, while she was tinkering with whatever invention she’d stumbled across in-between projects, she was never more than a few feet away from a private little place where she could lock herself in and pee, or more if she needed to. Usually she would much rather keep at her work than take a potty break, often squirming and dancing for hours in order to keep her train of thought. On one occasion she’d almost wet her pants because she’d ignored her body’s cries for relief while trying to create a self-powered hairdryer. But at least the option was always there. Now, taking her seat in front of the expectant masses, the only way out was to hold it for the hour left until the scheduled interval. 

 

From there, her experience in regality did most of the work. She smiled graciously when the host introduced her, laughed at any jokes when it seemed appropriate and helped her teammates answer questions whenever she could. The whole time, though, she couldn't help being far more concerned by what was going on inside her body than outside. Urinating in her pants wasn't an option, of course- that wasn't fit for any adult woman, let alone a Queen- but she didn't want to excuse herself mid-interview if she could help it. It would likely be far too obvious where she was going. Her bladder now was desperately full. It would not wait much longer.

 

All of those thoughts disappeared in an instant when she looked up and saw something in the sky. It caught her eye right away, the only blemish in an otherwise cloudless backdrop of air. At first all she could make out was six parallel streaks of white streaming across the blue, like a squadron of aeroplanes, but moving far too low and far too quickly. Shuri frowned. For a moment she didn't know what she was seeing, but then it clicked. 

 

They were headed straight for the crowd. 

 

She jumped to her feet, interrupting Peter Parker mid-sentence. Every head in the room turned to her. Shuri slipped into her confident voice, the one she knew could fool people into thinking everything was all right even when it wasn't. 

 

"We need to get everyone away from the stage," she said into her microphone. Beside her, the man they called Falcon looked up. She knew that he was seeing what she had seen, but thankfully he kept his poker face. There were confused murmurs from the crowd, people not understanding what she was asking. Falcon, who the population of New York seemed to know and trust far more than they did Shuri, followed her lead, bending down to reach the microphone on his desk. 

 

"Okay, I'm going to ask everyone to move calmly and quickly away from the stage," he said. Now people started moving, some looking up and at last spotting the white lines in the sky, the sources of which were undeniably getting closer by the second. 

 

"Something's coming," Pepper whispered at her side. She, too, was looking at the sky with an expression of dread. Whatever it was, it didn't look friendly.

 

Around her, everyone else on the stage was standing, starting to kick into gear. Without meaning to, everyone turned to Sam Wilson. It was funny to Shuri, in a way. Sitting at a long table with some of the strongest, smartest people on the planet, the one they looked to to give instructions was a middle-aged man with no special powers. But he spoke confidently, with the air of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. 

 

“I’m thinking this isn’t gonna be an anniversary present, so we need to evacuate these people. Who can fight?”

 

“I can,” Carol said, stepping forward. Sam sucked in air through his teeth; other than Carol, everyone there relied on a suit or a weapon for most of their combat skills. They hadn’t been prepared for an attack today. 

 

“Me too,” Peter said, “suit’s in my bagpack ”. The last few words were lost over his shoulder as he turned to sprint from the stage and towards the dressing room. 

 

Okoye flicked her arm and a spear slid out from concealment beneath a long sleeve. “I can fight, too,” she vowed. 

 

“And me!” Shuri said. Her bladder protested, but she knew she couldn’t stand by and watch a battle go down, especially not since she was already wearing the suit. On the outside it looked like she was in normal civilian clothes, but it would take barely a thought to send her creation enveloping her and turning her into the Black Panther once more.

 

Sam took a moment to take this all in, calculating a plan in his mind. All the while, Shuri couldn’t help noticing the six white streaks growing longer and larger as whatever it was approached. 

 

“Okay, so me, Carol, Peter, Queen Shuri and Okoye will stay here and fight. Rhodey, people will listen to you. I need you handling the evacuation. Get Fury’s help if you can. Pepper, find Morgan, get her safe, then come back to us”. 

 

Nobody argued. James Rhodes and Pepper dispersed, both towards the dressing room. Sam cleared his throat, assessing the soldiers with which he had been thrown into this unexpected situation. It wasn’t bad, but still a long way from the days of Iron Man, Captain America, The Winter Soldier and the Hulk. Still, they would have to fight with what they had. 

 

“You ready?” he asked Shuri, who was watching anxiously as the flying objects came within a kilometre, hurtling like cannonballs. 

 

She wanted to say no, wanted to be honest and tell him that she was about to pee her pants, but she couldn’t. Instead she nodded, took a deep breath and remembered what her brother had taught her. Five hundred metres. She felt Okoye by one shoulder, Sam by the other.  Two hundred metres. In front, Carol Danvers walked slowly towards the danger, stretching her arms out in front of herself. One hundred metres, and she could see them now, what looked like six huge metal men pelting down on them. Behind, people were pushing past each other to get away from the stage, herded as well as could be expected by Rhodey and Fury.

 

Shuri felt her bladder try to give out and squeezed her legs together just a little more tightly. A battle was not the time for an accident, but she didn’t know how she was supposed to focus on fighting with this heavy pressure inside her. Something landed with a heavy thud just twenty feet away from them. It had the shape and size of a large human, but steely black, with forearms as wide as elephant legs and tiny heads too small to fit a person inside. On its chest was a bright circle of light. It looked to Shuri like-

 

The other five hit the ground behind it, in rows of two and three, landing on one knee to absorb the blow. Sam, Carol and Okoye were approaching the squadron of robots. Shuri hung back. She couldn’t fight in this state. She needed to get relief, and soon. So she backed away. 

 

“Listen up, tin man,” Carol said, addressing the first droid directly, “you’ve got about five seconds to say we come in peace before me and my friends here turn all of you into scrap”. 

 

The robot looked up at her. It rose swiftly to stand at at least seven feet tall, towering over Carol. The last thing Shuri saw before she ducked behind a pillar was Captain Marvel lifting both hands in front of her, aimed at the six metal figures. 

 

Then she was gone, backstage and out of sight, thinking only about emptying herself as soon as possible so she could get in there and help. She tore down her jeans and fumbled to get her panties down her thick thighs, squatting where she stood just behind a set of huge speakers, and pushed. Immediately the flow started with the power of a hosepipe, gushing from between her legs and onto the floor, where it pooled around her feet. Shuri wanted to close her eyes, even to moan, and soak up the relief, but there was no time. She had to stay on her toes, so she pushed with everything she had to force the pee from her bladder as fast as possible, alert and watching the space like a dog as she went. 

 

She realised then that, assuming they survived, when the fighting was over someone would find a puddle of piss on the floor just past the stage. There was nothing she could do about it now, no chance of cleaning it up, and getting to the fight was much more important. Still, she had to hope that nobody who found it would ever find out who the culprit was. If people had found out that the Queen of Wakanda had taken a leak on the floor, even in the circumstances, the humiliation would be too much to handle.

 

It took almost a full minute before she felt empty enough to stand. In that time Shuri could hear everything- blasts of what sounded like electronic laser guns, the clink of Okoye’s spear, yells from Sam and Carol. It didn’t sound like three people who were winning a fight. She had to get back out there and help. So, with a monumental effort, Shuri managed to stem the flow of her pee and heave herself back to her feet. She felt a dribble of warmth leak from her pussy and soak into the front of her panties, but her bladder was a million times better. 

 

“Okay, now I’m ready,” she said to herself. And she thought one word: go. 

 

Right away she was encapsulated by the sensation of that familiar warmth spreading across her body, seeping both upwards and down from her necklace, wrapping around each limb, then each finger and toe. Shuri looked down to see the black material covering every inch of skin, felt it sliding up the back of her neck and compressing her hair. She took off towards the sound of combat, picking up speed as she emerged onto the stage. By the time she hit the floor, she was the Black Panther again. And that, at least, was something she was good at. 

 

She’d been gone for barely a minute but the place looked like a war zone already. Rows of seats had been blasted out of the way, leaving chunks of floor scorched and dented. The stage was cracked at the front where something- or someone- had been thrown into it. Carol was at the centre of the chaos, three droids circling her like sharks. Every time she punched one away or sent them flying with her powers, she spun around to find the other two charging at her. Okoye was duelling with two more, her spear spinning impossibly fast, hitting hard but ultimately unable to penetrate and cut into flesh that did not exist. Shuri looked around for the last droid and found it pinning down Sam Wilson in the corner, raising a hand out as if to fire. She set off towards him at a sprint, ready to pounce, but he was far away… too far. She wouldn’t get to him in time. Shuri looked around desperately for something to throw. Its metal palm started to glow with energy, and she kept running, knowing she was too late. 

 

Then the thing went flying, up and away into the air, across the open space like a giant baseball. It must have covered several hundred feet, and Shuri could only stand and watch its trajectory before it finally smashed into the concrete on the other side of the audience. It went down in a ball of fire, shattering into pieces. A blur of red and blue soared overhead, still disconnecting from the webbing it had used to throw the robot away. Spider-Man landed where it had been, standing over Sam, who had been no more than a second away from being cooked. Shuri saw Peter offer his hand to the Falcon and, knowing he was safe, turned to help Okoye. 

 

She, too, was on her back, outnumbered and outstrengthed by the two huge drones. Dodging their fire was one thing; doing damage in return was another entirely. Shuri launched herself at one of them, leaping with a fierceness far beyond most humans and wrapping her arms around its shoulders from behind. As far as she could tell, whatever they were didn’t have any weaponry on their rear, making it a potential weak spot. She dug her claws into the gap between shoulder and head, looking to try and pry it open. The thing shook and shuddered in an attempt to throw her off, but Shuri clung on tightly and squeezed her fingers a little deeper into the crack. It was built strong, but she was stronger, and she could feel it starting to give. Over its shoulder she saw Okoye drive her spear into the circular light on the front of the machine. It shattered the casing, and sparks flew from the wound until finally it ceased to move. At the same moment, Shuri finally won the struggle with the head of the thing she was piggybacking off. It tore away and fell to the ground, exposing a fizzle of ripped wires that still pulsed with electricity. 

 

Shuri leapt off and safely to the ground just as it collapsed, breaking her fall with a forward role and ending on one knee. There were still three of them on Carol, leaving her no time to finish any one of them off as they kept coming to her. As Shuri watched, something closed around the waist of the drone closest to her and yanked it away. 

 

At first she couldn’t believe what she was seeing: a hand- huge hand. A huge hand at the end of a very long arm had grabbed one of the robots and was now dragging it along the floor. Was it dragging, or was the arm shrinking? And at the other end of that arm was a regular-sized girl. Shuri blinked. The girl she was seeing was dressed in civilian clothes and was surely younger than herself. She flung the thing over her shoulder with that enormous fist, letting it fly until it smashed into a lamppost and crumbled in a broken heap. 

 

“What are you doing this side of the river?” Carol called, ducking under a swinging arm and giving another droid a kick so hard it left a dent in the metalwork. It collapsed from the blow at her feet. 

 

“You know each other?” Sam asked.

 

“Hey, I’m Kamala,” the girl said, pushing forwards towards the only enemy left standing, “basically, I’m stretchy”. 

 

Sam wiped sweat from his forehead with one hand and stared at her. “I kind of got that part”. 

 

Shuri heard something whistle past her shoulder and turned her head to see Spider-Man standing there, mask off. His arm was extended, and the webbing he’d just shot from it had plastered the last drone to the floor. Carol approached it, opened her palm and, in a beam of light, it lay still. 

 

“If I’d known there was going to be fighting today I would have done my stretches,” she said bitterly. “Everyone okay?”

 

“I think so,” Sam said. One look at him told Shuri that he was most certainly not okay, though. His arm was twisted back at an angle that made her feel sick, and she was far from a squeamish woman. Clearly, the drone that had pinned him down had caught him in a bad position. 

 

“Your arm looks broken,” Peter pointed out, his face looking a little green. 

 

“Hurts like hell,” Sam conceded, “but it’s better than being dead. Thanks for that, by the way”. 

 

They were interrupted by the sound of heavy, hard footsteps from the stage. Shuri turned to see Pepper sprinting towards them, her eyes a painting of sheer panic. She rushed down the steps with a face as pale as a ghost. 

 

“I can’t find Morgan!” she blurted out, out of breath. 

 

“What?”

 

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Episode Two
Chapters One and Two


“Tell me everything you know about these drones”.

 

In over thirty years of knowing him, Carol had never seen Nick Fury so stressed. Sure, she’d been off-planet for most of that time, but it was still disconcerting to see worry in his eye, the weary way he carried himself. Since she’d left him in ’95, he’d recruited countless heroes to the Avenger initiative, and watched some of them die. Others were still alive, but lost to him in another way entirely. She understood that he had cared about Tony Stark more deeply than almost anyone, had known his father back in his youth. And now Stark’s daughter was missing, possibly worse. Carol knew Fury blamed himself. 

 

They were gathered around a boardroom table in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s New York base, what remained of the infamous Avengers. Fury himself sat at one end, hands planted on the surface, with Carol immediately to his left. Pepper was at the other, slouched in her chair, eyes red and puffy. Everyone who had fought in the attack on the panel lined the seats on either side, with one exception: Sam was in hospital, his left arm broken in at least three places. He’d refused the offer of painkillers, but it would be a while before he was ready to be much use in a battle again. Kamala Khan had come with them, at Carol’s insistence, and had spent most of the time looking intimidated by Okoye. Other than Carol, only Nick knew anything about her. He kept tabs on pretty much every potential up-and-coming superhero across the world, whether they knew it or not, and had been aware of Kamala’s developing powers for a couple of years. All the others knew was that she’d stepped up and helped out when the robots attacked, and that counted for a lot in their world. War Machine had been called away to deal with some trouble downtown. From what Carol could gather, some thugs had taken the opportunity to strike a bank on the other side of the city, assuming all the heroes would be too preoccupied to stop them. 

 

“They’re Hammer Industries, Nick, and we both know that’s not a coincidence,” Pepper said. 

 

“How can you be sure? You said you’ve seen them before- where?”

 

“They’re exactly the same as the ones Ivan Vanko tried to blow up the Stark Expo with. Tony got me out a second before the whole place went up, Rhodey will tell you”. 

 

Nick sighed. “Vanko’s been dead for fifteen years”. 

 

“And Justin Hammer is still alive,” Pepper countered, raising her voice slightly, “how long is left on his sentence? Two more years? Three?”

 

“Vanko went rogue, we’ve seen the evidence. Hammer isn’t the type to go around attacking public spaces”. 

 

“He’s the type to do whatever it takes to earn a big payday,” argued Pepper, “or maybe he doesn’t know a thing about it. Either way, these drones were made by his company”. She sat up a little straighter, staring Nick down. “Interrogate him. He won’t be a tough nut to crack”. 

 

Nick spread his arms wide helplessly. “S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t have the same power it used to, Pepper,” he said, sounding apologetic, “it won’t be easy getting him alone in a room”. 

 

“I don’t care,” Pepper spat. Her voice was cold, ruthless. Carol rose from her seat and excused herself. She didn’t care much for the atmosphere. Everyone else in the room had been silent up to that point, not knowing what to say or where to look. 

 

The women’s bathroom down the hall was blissfully serene by comparison, totally empty except for her. Governmental law required the builders of the office space S.H.I.E.L.D. had converted to include bathrooms with at least three stalls for each sex, but the organisation still didn’t have enough female employees to justify such a capacity. Still, Carol was grateful for the peace and quiet. She slipped into the closest stall- always the cleanest- and clicked the lock closed. 

 

Carol was in no hurry to get back to the meting as she slid her jeans down to knee-level and settled herself down on the seat. It took a few seconds, but before too long she had a good stream going, tinkling delicately into the bowl, the only noise in what was otherwise a vacuum of a room. For a moment she simply closed her eyes and relaxed, forgetting the stresses of the day so far and the turmoil that she already knew lay ahead, just enjoying the feeling of going from full to empty. She hadn’t needed to go badly, but now she was in flow, there was plenty there to come out. 

 

Before she knew it, though, the stream was dying out. It faded from a rhythmic waterfall into the patter of rainwater running off a roof, and eventually ceased completely, so that all that remained was the occasional dripping of pee that still lingered around her labia. But, feeling no desire at all to rush back to that cold, tense room, she didn’t reach for the toilet paper right away. Instead, she pushed a little on the other part of her abdomen, the part that regulated her back hole rather than her front. It didn’t take much of a push to send a little puff of air out of her, and she was suddenly even more glad that nobody else was in the room to hear the muffled fart that echoed off the porcelain. She felt it slip out from between her cheeks, warm and blunted. That was encouraging, and she started to squeeze a little harder, hoping to get something more solid to come out. Carol hadn’t pooped in a few days, and she was growing more than a little concerned that things might get seriously blocked up if she didn’t take action soon. 

 

But, despite some more gentle effort, no turd seemed forthcoming, so she resigned herself to holding it in until later. There was no way she could prolong her absence any longer without making it abundantly clear to everyone else that she had been taking a crap, and while Carol didn’t usually care about such things, this didn’t seem the right time for it. So she tore off a few squares of paper and started to wipe, misjudging her fold the first time and feeling some of the pee soak through the thin material and onto her fingers. When her pussy was dry she ran one square across her butthole for good measure. It came away stained with the faintest of browns. 

 

One flush later, she was done, zipping her jeans back up and meandering back to the meeting room without bothering to wash her hands. Nick and Pepper were still mid-conversation when Carol took her seat back, but this time they seemed less confrontational. 

 

“- know I’ll do whatever it takes to get that little girl back home, Pepper,” Nick was saying as the door swung open and Carol entered. 

 

“We need to put a team together,” Pepper demanded, “I want the best you’ve got”. 

 

“With respect, Miss Potts,” Okoye said, doing her best to speak softly, “I do not think it is wise to focus all of your resources onto one missing person”.

 

Pepper turned to her, eyes narrow. “She’s more than a missing person, she’s Tony Stark’s daughter,” she said, “we don’t have long before people notice she’s been kidnapped, and that will cause a national panic”. 

 

“Pepper’s right,” Nick agreed, “we don’t just need Morgan back, we need her back before anyone finds out she was gone. The public don’t know anything about that yet. All they saw was you guys kick a bunch of robot asses”. 

 

“So who’s on this team?” Peter asked. 

 

Pepper didn’t hesitate. “I am”. She looked at Nick as if expecting him to forbid her. 

 

“Nothing I say is going to change your mind, is it?” he asked. Pepper shook her head. 

 

“The last suit Tony built for me still works perfectly. I fought in it on the day of the Blip. I’m going to get her back”. 

 

“Whoever has her,” Nick said, “it’s not a good idea for you to be going after them alone”. 

 

“She won’t be alone,” Peter said, “I’ll go, too”. Pepper looked at him with thankful eyes, but Nick shut that down quicker than a cop at an underage party. 

 

“Absolutely not,” he said, “if the scum in this city catch wind that Spider-Man’s not in town, there’ll be riots on the streets. We need you here to keep the peace”. Peter looked wounded, but it didn’t seem like he could think of a retort for that. They all knew Nick was right; Spider-Man’s mere presence was enough to scare most thugs off of trying anything too bold. 

 

“I’ll join the team,” Carol blurted out, surprising even herself. She wasn’t usually one for teams, or sentimentality, but Morgan was a cute kid and she didn’t like the idea of her being held hostage in some cold cell. She reminded Carol, in a lot of ways, of Monica. And she knew that she’d be the first person out searching if Monica had been taken. Pepper, who had never really gotten on with Carol, looked up at her, and for a second it looked as though her eyes were watering. 

 

“Thank you,” she said finally. 

 

Carol had defeated entire armies, but she was still uncomfortable with being thanked. “It’s nothing,” she said, “we’ll get her back”. 

 

“Any other volunteers?”

 

It was Okoye who spoke up, again to Pepper’s surprise. “I’m sure I could be of assistance in this mission,” she offered. This time, though, it was Shuri’s turn to dismiss the idea. 

 

“No, Okoye, you are too valuable to Wakanda and our people. I need you to return home immediately. I’ll go with Miss Potts and the Captain to find the girl”. 

 

Okoye, frankly, looked horrified at the idea. “My Queen,” she spluttered, “I have not left your side in battle in three years”. 

 

“I am ready, Okoye,” Shuri insisted, and Carol could see that her word was final, “it’s time for me to trust you just as my brother did so many times. You must oversee the kingdom until I get back. Nakia will help you”. 

 

It couldn’t have been clearer that Okoye didn’t like this one bit, but she blinked and bit her tongue.

 

“I can come,” Kamala piped up. She hadn’t said anything since the battle until now. “I’m good in a fight, and I can get through doors and stuff. I might be useful”.

 

“Won’t your parents notice if you’re not home before bedtime?” Carol said with a smirk. 

 

“I doubt it,” Kamala replied, quite cheerfully, “they don’t pay much attention to me these days. I’ll just tell them I’m at a friend’s house or something”. 

 

“Okay, that makes four of us,” Pepper mused, thinking things over in her head. “That’s not enough. We need more firepower”. She drummed on the table lightly with distracted fingers. “I want Bruce. And Clint”. 

 

Nick shook his head. "It can't be done," he said, "I'm more likely to win an Oscar for Best Actress than I am to convince either of those two to fight ever again. Believe me, I've tried about a billion times". 

 

"Then who?" Pepper sighed, "Loki would've torn this city apart twelve years ago if not for the Avengers. Now half of them are gone, one's millions of miles away and the other two won't fight. How are we supposed to get Morgan back if we don't even have Hawkeye?"

 

Nick ran a hand over his smooth, bald head. "Now, wait a second," he said. The gears in his mind were turning even faster than before, Carol knew. "I said you couldn't have Clint. I never said I couldn't get you Hawkeye". 

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Episode Two
Chapters Three and Four

The girl looked down at the tiled floor between her feet and swore under her breath. She’d been there long enough, and still there had been no reward for her patience.

 

She was dressed from head to toe in black, but it was the kind of outfit that looked far less dangerous when the jeans were bunched around her ankles and both sleeves were rolled up to keep the sweat from dampening the fabric. On a battlefield, the context for which such a costume was designed, these clothes allowed her to move as swiftly and silently as a master assassin, nearly invisible against a night’s sky for anyone more than a hundred yards away. In the fluorescent lighting of a training facility bathroom, it gave her a vibe that felt closer to a young mom taking five at a gas station on the way to see her in-laws. The dark hair that flowed just past her shoulders was sleek, weighed down with heavy beads at the base to hold it still. With a face flushed from straining, unable to hold back the grunting sounds she had to make, she surely looked far older than her actual age, which was twenty. 

 

In her hand she held what looked like an ordinary iPhone, and it was this which she checked for the fourth or fifth time since arriving in the bathroom. The time that flashed up on her screen revealed that she'd been there well over twenty minutes. Too long. As far as she knew, she was alone in the compound, but that still wasn't an absence she felt comfortable with. Anyone reviewing the security footage would be bound to notice that she had been gone for such a stretch of time, and she didn't want to be in a position in which questions were asked. 

 

But she didn't want to give up yet. It felt as though she was getting closer, even if only marginally so. When she had first sat down she'd felt nothing except a horrible weight in her stomach, aching uncomfortably. Now there were signs of some movement. Not a lot, but some. And walking away now would only compound her problems. Still... she was running out of time. Reluctantly, she braced herself for one final push. Her elbows rested on top of thick thighs and she clasped her hands together as if in prayer, leaning forward over them to compress the space inside of herself. The face she made then was not one usually associated with a deadly marksman. In moments like these, she always felt as though the maturity was stripped from her, and she went from one of the most powerful fighters in the country to barely more than a kid again. Her eyes shut tight and her face screwed up in a portrait of effort, every muscle below her modest breasts pushing and straining to try and get this huge thing out of her. A pathetic, creaking groan crackled involuntarily from her throat. 

 

For the most fleeting of promising moments it felt like something was shifting towards her exit. She could detect it there, thicker than anything that passed through that hole was ever supposed to be, almost beginning to poke out. She pushed even harder, reaching for every bit of strength those muscles had, closer than she'd been in days to making a breakthrough. A wetness arrived on the lips of her pussy where her pushing was forcing out pee. But it was too much, too painful, too hard to maintain. She stopped, gasping for breath. The rock-hard mass inside her retreated back upwards, away from her ring again. If anything, it was further than before.

 

It took the girl a few seconds to get her breath back, in which time the pain in her colon slowly subsided into no more than an awkward soreness. She couldn't face trying again- not yet. She had to get back out there and train. Fatigued and thoroughly pissed off, she grabbed some paper and wiped herself dry. There was no need to wipe her butt. Next, she stood and wiggled back into her skin-tight jeans, doing the buttons up as snugly as they would go to ensure they stayed where she needed them. As usual, she didn't bother flushing.

 

Finally, for the fourth time that day, the bathroom door was behind her- but, like all the other times, she'd left it just as full as she'd entered. Even for her, it was unusual to have four unsuccessful attempts before evening fell. She'd have to pick something up on the way home- some prune juice, maybe, or something a bit stronger from the drugstore. That was a risk in itself- as she'd learned from prior experience- but it was better than another day of constipation. One day, maybe she'd summon up the courage to go see a doctor for a more permanent fix, instead of going one week a month without getting anything out. That was easier said than done. For her, killing a dozen bad guys in thirty seconds with a bow and arrow was a hundred times easier than talking about poop. 

 

Still aware of that solid shape inside her, she walked as normally as possible back to the shooting range and picked up her bow from the rack where she'd left it. She slung her quiver over her shoulder, tightened the strap and adjusted the angle until it was just right. Then, in one fluid motion, she turned, loaded an arrow into her bow and pulled back to fire at one of the targets. The trouble was that there was somebody in front of them. Two people, to be exact. 

 

"I'd prefer it if you put the bow down," one of them said. She blinked, and suddenly recognised him.

 

Nick Fury was walking towards her, hands in his pockets. Beside him was a woman she'd never met but, like everyone in the city, she knew her name. It was Iron Man's widow- Pepper Potts. The girl lowered her bow, pointing it at the ground, and relaxed her grip. She caught the arrow in one hand and replaced it in the quiver as Fury drew closer. 

 

"Let me introduce you," he said, "when Clint's hearing started to deteriorate, he and I looked for a protégé to pass his skills onto. Neither of us thought we would actually find someone who could come close to his level". He offered his hand to the girl and she took it, still confused. "We were wrong. Pepper, I'd like you to meet Kate Bishop". 

 

—————————————————————————————————————

 

Maria’s helicopter landed just after 9AM local time, barely fifteen hours after the kidnapping of Morgan Stark. The pilot, a new recruit she’d only spoken to a few times, set them down on a grassy hilltop overlooking the village. No matter how many times she travelled by chopper, she still hated the bump that accompanied almost every landing- especially when, as was inevitable after a long night of travel, her bladder was full to bursting. 

 

But she couldn’t let that show as she stepped onto solid ground for only the second time since departing New York the afternoon before. She had a job to do, and Fury had only entrusted her to do it. Professionalism was the name of the game- she wouldn’t let him down. Without a word to the pilot, Maria marched down the hill and towards the little gathering of houses that sat by the shore. She passed a sign as she walked- she’d never been here before, but it was every bit as bizarre as the stories she’d heard had told.

 

Welcome to New Asgard, it said. Then, underneath:

Please drive slowly

 

The walk itself wasn’t too far, but it felt farther in the cold of the Norwegian morning. By the time she approached the buildings, people were already up and out of their houses. They didn’t get many visitors, especially not ones who arrived by helicopter. 

 

Valkyrie met Maria at the edge of the village. She looked like she had aged far more than three years since Maria had last seen her. Maria went to open the conversation, but the King of New Asgard got there first.

 

“Thor’s not here,” she said bluntly. Maria was taken aback by Valkyrie’s forwardness, but recovered swiftly.

 

“I’m not here to see Thor,” she replied evenly. 

 

“Ooh, a visit for me? How lovely”. The sarcasm was thick in Valkyrie’s tone,  dripping off of every word, but Maria was still not to be deterred. She’d never had much time for attitudes. 

 

“I’m not here to see you, either. I need to talk to the Hulk”. 

 

Professor Hulk, you mean,” Valkyrie tutted. 

 

“Yes. I need to talk Professor The Hulk”. 

 

Valkyrie allowed herself a wry smile at that. She pointed to one of the houses down the road from them, a run-down looking place with a patch of thatching on the roof. “You’ll find him in there”. Maria thanked her and started to walk. “Oh, call ahead next time, would you?” Valkyrie shouted after her. 

 

Soon Maria found herself in a cramped little house furnished as though it belonged to an elderly couple from Ohio. Still she had to pee badly. She had hoped to hold it until she was back at the airport, but it was becoming increasingly clear that that wouldn’t be an option. When she found Bruce, she’d have to ask him if she could use his before leaving. 

 

The first thing she heard was voices from a room down the corridor to her left. The first sounded like a Polynesian accent, high-pitched but definitely male. Then there was a second voice, and this one she certainly recognised. It was Bruce Banner’s voice- if anyone still knew him by that name.

 

She opened the door to the sight of two of the biggest men she had ever seen. They sat on sofa-sized objects that looked like they were made primarily of thick metal topped with cushions, and each was holding a white videogame console controller. One of them- the one to whom the accent belonged- seemed to be made out of blue rocks. The other was unmistakably Professor Hulk. There was nobody else in the world who looked like that.

 

So engrossed were they in the game that Maria had to step to within a few feet before they noticed her arrival. Only when she was close enough to reach over and touch his shoulder did Bruce look up. He did a double-take- it had been more than a year since they’d seen each other last, but he looked the same, if a little less scientist and a little more hippy. 

 

“Maria! Holy cow, what are you doing here?” he paused the game with one awkwardly oversized finger, got to his feet and pulled her into a hug. Maria thought she would never get used to being hugged by the Hulk, even if it happened every day. His enormous muscles were a strange mix with the geniality of his embrace. It was like being kissed by a shark. 

 

The pile of rocks waved at her and smiled kindly. “Hey man, my name is Korg, this is my very good friend Miek”. He gestured towards a little larvae-looking creature that was sitting beside him, which squirmed excitedly at being introduced. 

 

“Um… hi,” Maria said, not sure how to react. She had heard that New Asgard was weird, but she hadn’t expected to walk in to find Hulk hanging out and playing Minecraft with what looked like a Kronan. “Bruce, can I talk to you about something?”

 

Banner’s smile faded; it was as though he had just remembered where he was. “Sure,” he said, leading her out of the room and back into the relative quiet of the hallway, “I should’ve guessed this wasn’t just a social call”. 

 

“Well, you did move to… Norway,” Maria pointed out. She spotted a bathroom door open- it looked surprisingly clean in there, despite what she’d feared. “Can I use your toilet before I leave?” she asked. 

 

“No problem,” Bruce said, “it was specially made for someone of my weight. You’re not likely to clog it. So how can I help you?”

 

Maria looked over her shoulder, checked for any windows that might be open. “What I’m about to tell you has to stay between us. It isn’t public knowledge yet and hopefully it never will be”. 

 

Banner nodded. “Of course,” he said. And she believed him. 

 

“Morgan’s been kidnapped,” Maria said. 

 

Bruce blinked. “Morgan Stark?” he asked. She nodded. “Taken? By who?”

 

“Last I heard, we have no idea. It happened at the expo yesterday. Pepper wants to put a team together, go get her back. But everyone we used to call is…”

 

“Dead?” Bruce asked, “yeah, there’s a lot of that going around”. 

 

“Or busy. We don’t know where Thor or Strange are, and Nick is refusing to let Spider-Man leave the city unguarded.

 

Bruce paused for a moment. He seemed to be weighing up something in his head, then sighed and shook it slowly. “Sorry, Maria. I can ask Korg, but you know I’m retired for a reason. I just can’t fight like I used to, I’d only slow you guys down”. 

 

“Nick told me you’d say that,” Maria said. 

 

“Oh?” he seemed genuinely surprised. 

 

“He also told be that there would be no changing your mind,” she pressed. 

 

Banner ran a chunky green hand through his thinning hair. “So why did he send you all this way?”

 

“To ask a favour,” Maria said simply, “we thought you might be able to put us in touch with your cousin”.

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Episode Two
Chapters Five and Six

That’s the girl?” Pepper asked, incredulous. 

 

She was looking at the security camera which gave a direct view of the entrance to the base, where a rather ordinary-looking woman was waiting with two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. The woman wasn’t exactly young, but was far from old, with a mousy face and her hair tied back into a long, neat ponytail. She stood no more than five and a half foot tall. 

 

“That’s the one,” Nick Fury confirmed, “Jennifer Walters. One of the best lawyers in the country, these days, and she also happens to be Bruce Banner’s cousin”. 

 

“She doesn’t look like a Hulk to me,” Pepper said dubiously. 

 

“Remember what Banner used to look like before the whole Professor Hulk thing happened? The guy was as threatening as Elmo”. 

 

Pepper mused this over for a second. “Point taken. So she’s like he used to be?”

 

“No, she’s better,” Fury said. Pepper looked up at him, and again there was serious doubt in her expression. “As the Hulk, Banner was unpredictable and dangerous. He caused indiscriminate chaos. Remember Tony had to make a whole suit to keep him in check?”

 

For the first time since Morgan had last been seen two days ago, Pepper smiled. “The Hulkbuster. I remember”. 

 

“When Bruce transfused his blood to her, the Gamma radiation in it seems to have impacted her a little differently. Our intel says that she maintains most of her intelligence and communication skills when she transforms, but has most of the strength and durability of Banner”.

 

“Well, we’ll see,” Pepper said. She found it hard to believe that many things could match the strength and durability of the original Hulk. “Where’s she been all these years?”

 

“Lawyering,” Fury said simply. “She hasn’t been in a fighting mood, as far as we can tell. Stuck to normality. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in that regard”.

 

Pepper frowned. “So what changed?”

 

“Bruce did. He saved her life. Maria told me that he said Jennifer owes him a favour, and this is it”. 

 

The woman and her agents had disappeared from the screen. Someone must have buzzed them in, and the room where Pepper and Fury were sitting wasn’t far from the entrance. Jennifer would be in the boardroom any moment now.

 

“Okay, I’ll meet you in there in two minutes,” Pepper said, heading out of the room before Nick could ask where she was going. She ducked through the first door to her left and into the ladies’ bathroom, where she took the nearest of the two available stalls. Her mind was racing. After two days of agonising waiting, planning, speculating and recruiting, the operation began today. It wasn’t a perfect team, but it would do. And they were going to find her daughter. 

 

First, though, she had to pee. Leading a meeting of such gravitas on a full bladder was a terrible idea. She lifted her skirt and took a seat, not bothering to pull down her underwear. Instead, as she often did, she pulled the gusset of her panties to one side and let the stream flow, only catching a little splash on the back of her thumb as she did so. 

 

Even under the worst stress of her life, these moments in the bathroom had been a rare source of solace and comfort for Pepper. It was one of the few places she could go to be alone throughout the intense planning phases, the round-the-clock meetings and briefings. While she was caught up in going through every possible thing that could go wrong with Fury, she didn’t always have time to think about her bodily needs. She would stand at the strategy tables or the computer desks for hours, taking in as much information as she could, dancing and squirming on the spot rather than risk missing anything until- on a few occasions- Fury or Carol had had to insist that she took a bathroom break. On those occasions the release of the desperate pee was the closest she came to feeling good about anything anymore.

 

The flow abruptly stopped and she wiped thoroughly before replacing her panties and standing. If there had been more time she might have tried for a poop, too- she hadn't been for one in days- but there was too much to think about. In the next room were the five women who were going to help her get her daughter back. 

 

Not bothering to wash her hands, Pepper strode from the bathroom and through the door to the place where the danger would really begin.

 

—————————————————————————————————————

 

Forty-eight hours after the attack on the convention, Pepper got her first look at her team in the same room. She had wanted The Hulk, Hawkeye, War Machine, Spider-Man, Falcon... she had received none of them, but seeing what she had together now- a real, concrete thing at last- gave her hope that they had what it took. 

 

Nearest to the door sat the new arrival, Jennifer Walters, who looked as small and unbecoming in person as she had on camera. In a low chair, Pepper towered over her. It was hard to remind herself that this woman could purportedly turn into a monster capable of lifting a bus. Her eyes, though, were confident, and if she was feeling intimidated by the company she was in, she didn't show it. 

 

That company included Shuri, who had promised to delegate her duties as Queen for as long as it took to rescue Morgan. Pepper was more grateful for this than she could say, and when she'd tried to express her thanks, Shuri had simply told her that it was what her brother would have done. She had also insisted that nobody call her Queen Shuri, claiming that it made her feel strange. 

 

Pepper still couldn't get a read on Kate Bishop. The girl was nowhere near as physically imposing as her mentor, Clint, but she wore the same permanent scowl that he once had, and her skills as an archer were beyond doubt. She'd bought her own gear from home, turning down S.H.I.E.L.D.'s approved equipment, and carried what looked like hundreds of arrows in a leather quiver- regular, explosive-tipped, flammable and a whole host of others Pepper had never seen before in her life. 

 

The kid, Kamala Khan, sat with Carol at the back of the room. Pepper still felt far from comfortable bringing someone so young on a mission that was bound to be dangerous, but Nick had persuaded her. He'd reminded her that she was more or less the same age as Peter, who had been in deadly fights for years, and even Pepper couldn't deny that someone who could shift into almost any shape they wanted was too useful an asset to turn down. Nick himself was the seventh and final person in the room, staring out of the window as she entered as if he was expecting more robots to come flying across the New York skyline. 

 

Pepper went to Jennifer first, the only one she was yet to meet. She offered her hand and the gratitude in her voice was sincere. 

 

"Miss Walters, thank you for coming," she said, "I know I'm asking a lot from you". 

 

The woman did not drop her gaze. "Don't mention it. Let's just get this done soon so we can all go home". 

 

Pepper nodded. She understood why not all of these people would be thrilled to be here, and Jennifer more than most- they were, in a way, dragging her out of retirement. But Pepper needed someone strong who could fight without a bow or a gun. She needed a Hulk.

 

Nick turned to them just as Pepper filled the last empty seat. He walked to the table and leaned on it, putting both hands flat on the surface. She'd seen him like this before. This was how he motivated heroes before sending them off to a situation where they could probably get themselves killed. 

 

"Okay, ladies," he said, "we don't have much time to waste. Now that you're all here, I see no reason to delay Project S.T.O.R.M. any longer". 

 

"S.T.O.R.M.?" Kate asked, "I'm guessing that's another acronym?"

 

Nick gave her a look. "Thinking up acronyms is not high on my list of priorities right now. This is the S.H.I.E.L.D. Technical Operation to Rescue Morgan. S.T.O.R.M. Satisfied?"

 

Kate nodded. "I'm not complaining," she said defensively. 

 

"Good," he said, "because you leave in twenty minutes. There's a helicopter on the roof, along with all the equipment you asked us for... as long as we could provide it at short notice, which means no wing-suits, Miss Khan". 

 

"Worth asking," Kamala said, looking disappointed. 

 

"We don't know where Morgan has been taken, but we do know where to start," Pepper continued. 

 

"With the drones?" Carol suggested, and Pepper nodded. 

 

"I told you that Hammer Industries made them, but there's no sign that they were produced in-city. We think they're being created at one of Hammer's other factories on the other side of the world.

 

"So where are we going?" Jennifer asked. 

 

"Sokovia," Nick said simply. 

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Episode Three
Chapter One

 

Markus was in the break room when he heard the emergency signal. He’d been sat down for barely a minute before his radio crackled into life and the voice of his new recruit came through the feed. She was a young woman, smart and tough, but he didn’t appreciate being interrupted on his lunch hour. He reached lazily for the handheld and held it up to his face. 

 

“Lucia, this had better be good,” he warned her, leaning back in his chair. 

 

“Sorry, boss, but something is heading straight for us,” she said. He could hear the stress in her voice, and he was no stranger to it. New security guards got frights like this within their first few days, with almost no exceptions. It always turned out to be no more than an overreaction fuelled by a paranoid fear of screwing up on the first week. But he liked Lucia, and so far she had been a perfect employee, so he decided to take the gentle route. 

 

“What is it?” he said kindly, knowing he was merely humouring her. But the fear in her tone didn’t go away.

 

“It’s something in the sky, sir, something flying. It looks like- it looks like Iron Man!”

 

Marcus frowned. That didn’t make a jot of sense. “Iron Man has been dead since before I last got laid, and that’s saying something”. 

 

“I’m just telling you what I see, sir, and it’s close,” she shot back. He didn’t appreciate being argued with, either. His patience was waring thin.

 

“Tony Stark is six feet under, Lucia”.

 

“Try telling him that,” she said. 

 

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 

 It had been a while since Pepper had worn her armour, but she felt like she was already getting back into the swing of things. In her mind, sometimes she focused on what she remembered of Tony’s early suit inventions. She had vivid memories of him struggling to fly them smoothly, crashing into little things dotted around his lab and landing awkwardly every time he wanted to touch ground. Maybe she remembered those days more because those were the days when she was falling in love with him. Since then, though, the suits had gotten more and more advanced, more and more perfected. By the time he’d created the final model of what she had on now, designed exclusively for her, his understanding was unparalleled, and he was capable of producing technology that was so refined she barely noticed she was wearing it. Rescue, she called it. The suit she was wearing to rescue their daughter. How fitting it was. 

 

It felt easy to bomb through the Sokovian air towards the target building, as effortless and controlled as an expert swimmer cuts through still water. The AI in her helmet was already beginning to analyse the ground below, scanning for movement to warn her of. It identified a figure on the ground and zoomed in on a blonde woman, no more than a few hundred metres away, looking up at her and speaking into a microphone. Pepper changed course by a few degrees and aimed for her. The aim was not to take innocent lives; most of the people working in this base, Fury had told her, were just locals who took jobs there because they needed income. Those didn’t sound like people who needed to die. But if any of them stood between her and Morgan, well…

 

She glanced over her shoulder, taking less than a second to check her surroundings. Behind her was a streak of light following towards the ground. She knew that Carol Danvers could fly a lot faster than she was at that moment, but the plan was clear: let Pepper land first, keep Captain Marvel a surprise, at least for now. The helicopter carrying the other four women was out of sight already. If everything went as intended, they would land within a few minutes. 

 

Pepper hit the ground hard, the suit absorbing most of the impact and saving her kneecap from shattering. Ironically, she knew she must look almost exactly as the drones they were tracking had when they’d attacked. She leapt to her feet, took one step closer to the terrified guard and spoke.

 

“Get out of the way. I don’t want to hurt you,” she commanded. 

 

With shaky hands, the woman lifted a sleek black rifle, but Pepper knew she would not fire. She stared the guard down, daring her to shoot, making sure there was no doubt that bullets would not stop her. "I wouldn't recommend that course of action," she said. 

 

The guard backed away, turned and sprinted back towards the building. Pepper couldn't allow that- she needed as few people in her path as possible. She raised a palm, looking for some way to stop the woman without harming her too badly, but nothing presented itself. 

 

She was a few feet from safety when a bolt of red and blue blurred past and plucked the guard off her feet. It came to a stop suspended somewhere in mid-air, some distance from where the woman had been running. Carol was hovering there, dangling her by the scruff of the neck in one hand, a long cape flowing from her shoulders. She dragged the guard upwards, onto the roof of the building, and returned without her a second later.

 

"There," Carol said, "she won't be coming down any time soon".

 

Pepper frowned. “What if they don’t find her?”

 

“They’ll find her,” Carol shrugged in response, “eventually. I’m sure someone in this goddamn country has a ladder”.

 

There was no time to argue; Pepper pushed forward and into the darkness of the building. Her palms were already sweating beneath her suit. 

 

"You ever infiltrated a killer drone manufacturer before, Carol?" she asked.

 

"Five or six".

 

"In your experienced opinion, where do we find the boss?"

 

Carol thought for a second. 

 

"As far away from all the other poor bastards as possible," she said. 

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Episode Three
Chapters Two and Three

 

 

For the first time in a few minutes, Markus looked up at the monitors that displayed a live feed of all sixteen of his security cameras. He had watched them every single day, except his birthday and every other Christmas, for four and a half years. In that time he had found reason to be concerned just once- when one of his guards had suddenly gone missing apropos of nothing. He’d found her in the bushes a few metres from her post, taking a crap that she’d tried to explain simply could not wait until her next break. He’d fired her on the spot and had no more trouble since. But he kept checking, more and more half-heartedly, because he’d be damned if it was his head on the chopping block if anything interesting ever did happen in this dump. As ever, he swept his eyes quickly from left to right, scanning more than searching to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary. It was only on the penultimate screen that he saw it.

 

Lucia was gone. 

 

He frowned. He’d dismissed her earlier report, but that had only been a few minutes ago. Now there was nobody where she was supposed to be. And he was pretty sure she was not simply off in the bushes. He told all of his new guards that they were under highly discriminate orders to piss themselves before abandoning their posts, and Lucia had made it very clear that she had understood that rule by wetting her pants quite spectacularly on only only her second day. So something was up. 

 

He rose from his seat and went to the window that overlooked the field beside the factory, and that was when he saw it. Something was falling out of the sky, but it didn’t look a thing like Iron Man to him. For starters, there was no light around it. He blinked, trying to make sure he really was seeing what he thought he was seeing. The thing was big, green- and only seconds from hitting the ground. 

 

———————————————————————————

 

Jennifer smashed down onto the ice-stiffened grass and felt her bowels cramp on impact. She winced in discomfort as her body absorbed the shock of landing from a two-hundred-foot drop and rose slowly to her feet, rolling her shoulders back. Her target was in sight- a fire exit with no exterior handle. She pushed towards it, hearing the helicopter roar away overhead, and took the door out with one powerful kick. It crumpled like cardboard in the corner of the room. This factory had been built to withstand break-ins from petty criminals and thieves. It was not much of a match for a She-Hulk. 

 

But she didn’t feel much like She-Hulk in the pit of her stomach, where two days worth of poop cooked and brewed. Jennifer- the human, the real Jennifer- had never ben a woman who could do her business quickly, instead preferring to take her time to pass what were often hard, difficult loads. In her green form, things were very different. She-Hulk could take a dump the size of a basketball in about a minute and bound off to the next fight without wiping. But for the last year, if not more, the green girl hadn’t seen the light of day. And since S.H.I.E.L.D. had found her and asked her to come to New York, there had been no time to set aside for taking care of her bathroom needs. 

 

As much as she wanted to focus on the task at hand, it was difficult when her stomach gurgled and groaned with each sudden movement. When she was She-Hulk, Jennifer rarely felt worry or stress- except when the monster had to poop. That was always a bad sign. One of the things she’d found out the hard way about transforming between woman and beast was that She-Hulk’s bladder and bowels were quite a bit bigger than Jennifer Walters’. A quantity of pee that she found difficult to hold as Jennifer would only be about a third of She-Hulk’s capacity, and on the flip side, if she needed to poop as She-Hulk, that urge would only get more intense when she shrunk back down.

 

That was why Jennifer found herself dreading what would happen when the fight was over and the time came for her to return to her normal form. If she already felt desperate to go, it wasn’t going to be pretty when the capacity of her colon was slashed in half, if not smaller. She’d had accidents in the past for exactly that reason- one minute smashing up bad-guys, the next rushing to the bathroom with a hand clenched to her butt and not always making it in time. But here, on a mission to save the most important little kid on the planet and surrounded by some of earth’s most powerful heroes, sounded like a particularly bad time to do it. 

 

She was so preoccupied with her bowels that Jennifer barely even noticed a man run around the corner. He was tall- well, tall by human standards, but she still towered over him- with more than a little grey in his hair, and in his hands he carried a long, black rifle. He looked up at her with that expression she'd grown so used to over the years (had she grown to love it? She liked to tell herself that she had not but oh that was a lie): pure, uncensored fear. The poor bastard had probably come to work today expecting an easy ride, and now he was facing down a green woman with enough muscle to crush his skull between her thumbs. 

 

He rose his gun at her from no more than a few metres away, hands shaking. 

 

"Cute," Jennifer said. She grabbed him by the hair and flung him across the room. The rifle went sprawling, and she went to it, snapping it squarely in two with her heel. Her bowels grumbled again and this time she allowed them a long, slightly wet fart.

 

“Sorry about that,” she said insincerely, as the smell began to fill the room, “I’d recommend you don’t come after me. Oh, and try not to breathe through your nose”. 

 

—————————————————————————————————————————————

 

Lucia hit the roof hard, barely putting hr hands out in time to cushion the blow and save her head from smacking into the gravel. The crunch below her as she landed was sickening. Head still spinning, she turned to try and see what was happening, but her eyes caught barely a flash of red and blue before whatever it was was gone. She couldn’t remember exactly how she’d gotten from the ground to the roof, but it had felt like being on a fairground ride that shot you straight up in a line. She turned and crawled towards the edge, scraped palms leaving dots of blood behind, and peered cautiously down at the ground. There was no sign of whatever had lifted her up there, nor of the metal woman. And it had been a woman, she knew that now, not Iron Man at all but something very much like him. And she had been standing right there. Which meant one, or possibly both, of them had gone into the building. 

 

That realisation spurred her into action. Maybe she could still save her job, if she acted quickly. She felt behind her for her radio and could not detect its presence strapped to her waist. Lucia spotted it down on the ground, in at least three separate pieces. Her gun was nowhere to be seen. She scrambled painfully to her feet and backed away from the edge, looking around for some way down. She was sure there was a ladder somewhere- there had to be- but the building was huge and she hadn’t been working there anywhere near long enough to know all the exits and entrances. She could feel blood trickling down from her kneecap, which thankfully felt no more than bruised. Hopping down onto a lower section of roof, she limped across towards the back of the factory, where she knew the boss’s office was. She’d never met him, nor gone anywhere near his headquarters, but surely that was her best bet of finding a way back inside. 

 

She arrived at a courtyard where the workers were allowed to smoke in their breaks. It was a perfect square of bleak grey, surrounded by high walls on all sides, the only colour being the red of the bins in each corner of a pit of cold dullness. Of course! Surely there would be some people out here at this time of day. It didn’t take her long to spot them- three men huddled together, each holding a cigarette and murmuring to each other. Lucia recognised one of them- a guard, Markus’ assistant. The others were from the factory, judging by their uniforms. Lucia opened her mouth to call out to them…

 

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something. A figure dressed in black was crouched on the roof on the other side of the courtyard, eye-to-eye with Lucia, taking cover behind a ventilation unit. Lucia was just close enough to see that it was a woman, and a young one at that, with goggles resting on her forehead over dark hair. The second thing she realised was that the woman was aiming a longbow right at her, arrow loaded and stretched back ready to fire. In that moment, Lucia’s courage broke. Her knees felt weak, and her bowels turned to water. The girl shook her head as if to say I’d be quiet if I were you. 

 

Unable to think of anything else to do, Lucia nodded shakily. She backed away, lifted her fingers to her mouth and mimed zipping her lips closed. The girl across the roof smiled at her- not a kind smile, but one of someone who knows they have won. 

 

Then she lowered her bow and fired at the three unaware men on the ground, and the courtyard erupted into smoke. 

 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

 

Kate didn’t wait for her smoke-tipped arrow to hit the target before she reached behind and fumbled for another. As she loaded the next missile into her bow, she saw the first land squarely in the middle of the three men- precisely where she had been aiming. There would have been little point in trying to strike a man with a smoke bomb, unless the goal was to give him blood poisoning. She lowered her goggles and suddenly she was seeing not smoke but figures, three human shapes illuminated in bright colours. In the cold of northern Slokovia, thermal detection was even easier than Kate was used to. They were staggering around, trying to flee but utterly unable to find a way out of the cloud of grey that had encapsulated the whole place. She fired swiftly, almost in one fluid motion, one, two, three. The arrows struck one man squarely in the thigh, the second in the left buttock and the third in the hip. All three were on the ground in seconds. Three arrows, perfect shots.

 

The smoke cleared after a few moments and Kate looked for the woman across the roof. She had vanished, which Kate had expected. Smart chick. Kate lifted her goggles again and dropped smartly to the floor, feeling a fullness in her bladder that was getting harder and harder to ignore by the second. But she had a job to do. She retrieved her arrows from the three unconscious men and loaded them back in her quiver. According to Fury, they would be out for at least an hour. That was enough time. She reached behind herself and fished a wedgie out of her buttcrack. A voice crackled in her ear.

 

“Agent Hawkeye, you good?”

 

Kate groaned internally. “It’s just Hawkeye, Kamala,” she said again.

 

“Who’s Kamala? This is Agent Ms Marvel”

 

“Can’t it just be Agent Marvel?”

 

“Are you crazy?” the voice in her ear said, “how will we know whether you mean me or the Captain?”

 

“She could be Agent Captain,” Kate suggested, approaching a door to the inside.

 

“Agent Captain,” Kamala repeated in disbelief, “Am I the only one here who’s ever read a comic book before?”

 

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  • 3 weeks later...

Episode Three
Chapters Four and Five

The guards barely knew it was coming, a blur in the shadows that was gone as soon as it arrived. Three heads turned as one towards the source of the movement and six eyes saw nothing there at all. The room stood exactly as it always had been, dusty and damp and dank and empty but for themselves. 

 

“What was that?”

 

The taller man blinked, craning his neck to look over the rows of desks and machinery and around the room. “You saw it too?”

 

“I saw something. No idea what, though”. 

 

The tall man, a skinhead with a dark beard, pointed towards the farthest wall. “Borisov, sweep left. I’ll go right”. 

 

They split into two and started to move down the aisles at either side of the room, but he didn’t get far before something shifted again. This time it was even more brief, even swifter. He froze on the spot. A casual observer might have dismissed it as a trick of the light, but by this point he was far beyond a casual observer. He was starting to scare. 

 

“There, again!” he said, pointing his gun towards the corner where he had seen something as if he would be able to simply shoot the shadows and solve the problem. It had only been fleeting, but he was sure on this second viewing that there was something there indeed. “Mikelson, get the lights,” he ordered. 

 

“But sir, the boss’s instructions were very clear-“

 

The lights, Mikelson,” the tall man growled, trying and failing not to let the fear show in his voice. 

 

There was no further argument from Mikelson. The tall man heard footsteps behind him, but didn’t dare look back, didn’t dare take his eyes away from where it- wherever it was- had been. A moment later, the overhead lights clicked into life, illuminating most of the room with a dim glow. The lights were slowly dying, and replacements for this strange kind of bulb were in short supply, so Markus had told them quite plainly to leave them off unless they were needed for work. But Markus wasn’t around right now, and it was hard to care about saving energy when there was something rustling in the shadows a few feet away. With the power on, it was a little easier to see, but the weak light didn’t quite reach into the far corners of the room. The man squinted and could just about make out the back wall, but there was no sign of anything, human or animal. Unless they had simultaneously imagined something moving, the culprit was behind some of the equipment. 

 

On the left, Borisov took another step forward. His rifle shook in his hand. 

 

“Careful,” the man warned, not sure if his colleague was being brave or stupid, powered by a sudden burst of adrenaline, “don’t get too close”.

 

Borisov nodded, but the tall man got the impression that he was barely listening. He seemed to be trying to peer around the corner, and from the man’s angle he was slowly growing closer and closer. He was almost there. He took one more step-

 

An arm, almost too dark to see, shot out from behind the metal and a clawed hand closed around the barrel of the gun. The arm yanked back and Borisov did not let go, being pulled with it, down and out of sight. No gunshot came; there was only a yelp of surprise and then a heavy, tinny thud. Before the man had time to react, something flew across the room and struck Mikelson squarely in the chest. He was instantly lit up in electric blue, crying out in pain and sinking to his knees. The current wasn’t just flowing through him- it was enveloping him, flashing visibly across his body. 

 

The tall man had seen enough. He got down, taking cover behind the closest desk. He could hear the impact of Mikelson hitting the floor. For a moment, the room was deadly silent once again, and the man raised his gun in anticipation. His palms were starting to sweat. Nervously, he cocked his head just enough to check if the safety was on (it wasn’t). 

 

Then he noticed the shadow on the ground below him. He looked up, lifting his rifle, but too slowly. It charged at him in a blur, pouncing off the desk and onto his body before he could squeeze the trigger, and the last thing he saw was a pair of white eyes before everything went black. 

 

———————————————————————————

 

Shuri left him there, crumpled in a heap in the corner. She took his gun and went back to pick up the other one, the one she had taken off of the man he’d called Borisov. 

 

“I will be taking these, thank you,” she told his unconscious form, trampling his radio with one unusually strong foot. Next, she went to the man by the light switch and confiscated his gun, too. She opened the door to leave, paused, and flicked the lights off before she closed the door behind her. 

 

“Guards are taken out in the East Wing,” Shuri said, holding a finger up to her earpiece like Fury had shown them, “Widow’s Bite worked like a charm”. 

 

“Good,” came Pepper’s voice, “don’t waste them, though. Maria told me they’ve been out of production for at least eight years, there aren’t many left”. 

 

Shuri was barely listening. By the room she’d just left was a filing cabinet that towered at least seven feet tall. It was too heavy for a normal human to move easily, but she pulled it down with ease and let it fall against the door. She may have stolen the guns, but she didn’t want the guards coming after her when they woke up all the same. 

 

As she moved inwards, deeper into the facility, she passed a worker’s bathroom to her left. She was sorely tempted to pay it a visit; her bladder had been full for most of the day. Not wanting to delay the mission, though, she pushed on, ignoring the twinge in her abdomen. She couldn’t bear the thought of screwing things up just because she went for a pee. 

 

“I’m Wakandan,” she said into her earpiece, “I do not waste”. 

 

——————————————————————————————————

 

Kamala slipped in beneath a fire exit, through the narrow crack between metal and tarmac. It was a tight squeeze, impossible for any other human not named Scott Lang or Hope van Dyne, but Ms Marvel was used to tasks like this one and within moments she found herself standing, only a little out of breath, in an empty room. The idea, which she had thought of herself and proposed to Pepper and Carol in her outdoor voice on the helicopter ride over, was that any guards who had already been alerted to the presence of the other women would probably have come here to guard the generator room. Their backs, she assumed, would be facing away from the fire exit- the one door in the room that, as far as they knew, nobody could get in or out of. 

 

Even in a run-down old place in the middle of Sokovia, Justin Hammer had at least been sure to reinforce his security. Kamala was no expert on doors but one glance from the outside told her that even She-Hulk would probably struggle to break down this thing- not that she’d seen much of the mysterious She-Hulk at all. Jennifer had remained Jennifer right up until the moment she had jumped from that helicopter. By the time Kamala had peered over the edge, struck somewhere between awe and terror, all she could see was a decidedly green dot on the ground starting to charge towards the compound. Only moments later, Kamala had leapt out herself, stretching her body out into a parachute shape to slow the fall until she could land safely. She’d tried to get a glimpse of Jennifer then, too, but to no avail; the woman (the beast) must already have found a way inside. 

 

If she was honest, Kamala had to say that she was more than a little disappointed. She had been too young to really get what was going on back when the original Hulk ruled. He was another one of her heroes, along with Carol and Tony Stark and Captain America and the rest. When he’d thrown down in the Battle of New York, or taken on half of Thunderbolt Ross’s army by himself, she hadn’t truly understood just how awesome it was. By the time that, finally, she’d fallen in love with these heroes and the things they’d done to save the world, ‘The Incredible Hulk’ had been pretty much finished. She’d heard the stories- knew that he’d flown off after Sokovia, turned into Banner and been that way since, at least until Professor Hulk turned up not long after the snap. And that was cool with her. She liked Banner, and she liked Professor Hulk, but it wasn’t the same. There was always a little part of Kamala that was sad that she’d missed the Hulk in his prime, and she still held out hope that watching Jennifer in action would make up for that a little. 

 

But this wasn’t the time to reminisce. She had people to impress here, and the last thing she wanted was for them to think they could win this fight without her. She was the youngest there, younger even than Kate, who was technically old enough to do whatever she wanted. And if Pepper started to suspect that they didn’t absolutely need Kamala, well… she could decide it wasn’t worth the risk and send her home. That was no option for Kamala. So she felt a bit let down when she re-inflated herself to find the room totally empty. There were generators here, all right, and her job was to shut them down, but not a guard in sight. Had they all been lured away to try and fight off her teammates? The thought made Kamala smile. No matter how much Nick had tried to drill into her head the idea that all missions were dangerous, that she should never let her guard down and that any one of them could be put in serious trouble at any moment, she couldn’t help laughing at the idea of a gaggle of barely-trained guards running around the place trying to take on Tony Stark’s most advanced suit, the world’s deadliest archer and a Hulk. Even if these dumbasses somehow got past one of them, Captain Marvel would sweep up like they were nothing.

 

All that meant that Kamala had one job and one job only: to get the generators off. Carol’s logic was that most, if not all, of Hammer’s defences would run on electricity. The guards needed power to protect the factory and, more importantly, protect their boss- wherever he was cowering. The six women who had just landed there needed no such power. Pepper’s suit was the only electronic item in sight and she had more than enough power in her Arc Reactor to last several days. This gave them a crucial advantage. The only problem was that Kamala Khan had no idea how to turn off a generator. 

 

To make matters worse, she needed to poop. She hadn’t been since her close call in New York the day of the attack, when she’d almost shit her pants outside a port-a-potty. Since then there had just been no time, or perhaps she’d been to nervous. She hadn’t realised she had to drop a deuce until after they were already loaded into the helicopter, but the urge had come on quickly and not very pleasantly. Already, she wasn’t sure if holding it until they regrouped was going to be a possibility. There were bound to be plenty of bathrooms in this place- she just needed to find one to sneak away to at the earliest opportunity.  

 

  Kamala let a fart out to relieve some of the pressure as she approached the nearest generator and bent down. Squatting only made her need to go ven worse, and she could have sworn she felt her hole flexing in anticipation.

 

"Not yet," she said warily, "this suit isn't built for heavy loads".

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