Chapter 1: What the heck is that up there?
Chapter Text
Station 118 was settled into a rare moment of calm. The firefighters sat around the table, sharing a meal that Bobby had carefully prepared. The aroma of freshly cooked food filled the room, mixing with the low hum of quiet conversation. Plates clinked softly as everyone focused on eating, the usual bustle replaced by a peaceful pause in their demanding day.
Outside, sunlight filtered through the windows, casting warm patterns across the worn tables and well-used gear. The men and women took the chance to rest their bodies and minds, savoring these fleeting minutes of normalcy.
Suddenly, the peace was broken by the sharp sound of the alarm. Red lights began to flash as the dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio, clear and urgent: “All units respond immediately. Fire and possible structural collapse reported at the old facility .”
Without hesitation, the crew rose from their seats, setting down their utensils and moving swiftly into action. The quiet room transformed in moments — jackets were pulled on, helmets grabbed, boots tightened. The familiar rhythm of preparation took over as Station 118 prepared to face whatever awaited them beyond the firehouse doors.
==in the truck===
"Cap, you have to give me the recipe for whatever was on the table," demanded Buck. "I can't believe something that good actually exists."
"Can you, for a moment, stop thinking about food?" said Hen. "And don't forget you still owe me 20 bucks for that pizza last week."
Buck sighed, annoyed that Hen was still reminding him about the money. While they were talking about food, Eddie was trying to catch some sleep — he had spent almost the entire night playing Monopoly and watching movies with Christopher.
Buck rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll pay you back. Just remind me after this call.”
Hen grinned, folding her arms. “You better not forget.”
Meanwhile, Eddie rubbed his tired eyes and stretched out on his seat , trying to shake off the exhaustion. “You guys keep joking, but some of us actually tried to get some rest,” he muttered.
Bobby, chuckled. “Well, if you want, I can make you a stronger coffee when we get back''
After that, silence filled 118's engine, as each firefighter sat quietly, waiting to find out what this call was really about
===20 minutes after===
The long stretch of silence inside 118’s engine was finally broken by Ravi’s voice.
“Are we still in L.A.? We've been driving for like twenty minutes,” he asked, half-joking, half-curious.
But before anyone could answer, the truck was suddenly filled with the overwhelming stench of burning debris. It hit them fast and hard — acrid, choking, and unmistakable.
Then came the sounds.
Muffled at first, then louder — echoing screams, sharp and desperate, cutting through the air like glass. It wasn’t civilians. These were trained voices. Agents, maybe. Soldiers.
The crew exchanged quick, alert glances.
And just as quickly as it began, the truck rounded the final corner — and everything came into view,In front of them stood the facility — or what was left of it.
Thick, black smoke poured from shattered windows and twisted beams. The roof had partially caved in, exposing the dark, skeletal structure beneath. Flames still licked at the metal edges, but it was the silence within the chaos that struck hardest.
Scattered across the scene were people — civilians, agents, soldiers... or something in between. Some crawled, some staggered, others didn’t move at all. There was shouting, radio static, panicked voices trying to organize something, anything — but nothing made sense.
And then there was the blood.
No emergency came without it, but this — this was different. It wasn’t just on the victims or the ground. It was everywhere. Smeared on walls, pooling in cracks, dripping from places it shouldn’t. For a second, Buck could’ve sworn the only thing holding the place together… was blood.
The team sat frozen, taking it all in — until Bobby’s voice snapped them back.
“Let’s move! Gear up and stay sharp — this isn’t a standard call. We’ll figure out what happened later.”
One by one, the brave firefighters stepped out of the truck. As always, Bobby took command with precision, giving out orders and organizing his crew into pairs.
Buck and Eddie were assigned to search the interior of the building — or what was left of it — carefully making their way toward the main entrance. Hen and Chimney were sent to the front, tasked with setting up triage.
It was chaos. Nearly two hundred people crowded the area in front of the collapsed facility — civilians, agents, and others they couldn’t quite identify. Some were limping, others shouting, some just standing in shock, covered in ash and blood.
There was no time to question. The team moved quickly, instinct and training kicking in.
=========
Buck adjusted his helmet and exchanged a glance with Eddie as they approached the entrance. The heat radiating from the building was immediate, even though most of the visible flames had been knocked down by the sprinklers or burned themselves out.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the world shifted.
Inside, it was darker than expected — the thick smoke hung low, swirling with every movement they made. Their flashlights cut through the haze in narrow beams, illuminating twisted metal, scorched walls, and collapsed sections of ceiling. The place looked more like a war zone than a simple fire scene.
“Watch your step,” Eddie warned, pointing toward a section of floor that had buckled inward.
Buck nodded, sweeping his light toward the far corridor. “We’re looking for anyone still inside. You take left, I’ll go right — call out if you find anyone.”
They moved carefully, voices low, gear clinking softly with every step.
Suddenly, Buck froze.
There, just ahead, was a trail of bloody footprints — fresh ones — leading deeper into the building.
“Eddie…” he called out quietly, tension creeping into his voice. “I think someone’s still in here.”
As Buck followed the bloody footprints down the dim corridor, the building seemed to shift around him — not physically, but in tone. The further in he went, the more it became clear: this wasn’t a warehouse, or a lab, or anything “normal.”
It was something else.
Behind him, Eddie moved silently, his flashlight beam catching strange markings on the walls — faded emblems, half-melted tech panels, shattered control consoles. Buck paused at a partially open steel door, rusted and dented but still intact. He pushed it with his shoulder.
What they saw inside made them both freeze.
Racks of weapons lined the walls — not standard military gear, but unfamiliar tech. Sleek rifles with glowing cores. Bladed gauntlets. Small vials of neon-colored substances. Everything tagged in languages neither of them could read. Everything out of place.
“What the hell is this?” Buck whispered.
“Definitely not LAFD territory,” Eddie muttered.
Then came the sound — a low groan from deeper in the hallway.
They rushed forward, stepping into a large chamber. On one side: cages. Containment units. Some broken open, others still sealed. Inside were people — some in uniforms, some in torn civilian clothes — unconscious, injured, or staring blankly into nothing.
On the other side: agents, but not ones they recognized. Black combat suits. No visible insignias. Some lay still, others staggered and bleeding, trying to reach communication devices or weapons.
One of them looked up, eyes wild. “You shouldn’t be here,” he rasped with russian accent.
Buck raised his hands. “We’re firefighters! We’re here to help you!”
But it was too late — one of the agents behind the cages pulled something from his vest, pressed a button, and suddenly—
A low hum started vibrating through the walls.
Something had been activated.
The hum intensified, building into a low, pulsing vibration that seemed to shake the very air around them. Lights flickered overhead, casting brief glimpses of the strange weapons and blood-streaked walls.
“We need to get everyone out. Now,” Eddie said firmly, already moving toward the cages.
“What if that thing is a bomb?” Buck asked, glancing toward the agent who triggered it.
The man just smiled — bloody, dazed, and far too calm.
“Then you better hurry.”
Buck didn’t wait for further explanation. He ran to one of the cages and yanked at the door. It wouldn’t budge.
“They’re locked!”
Eddie scanned the wall, found a control panel, and slammed his fist against it — but the screen was cracked, unresponsive. He pulled out his radio.
“Hen, Chim, Bobby,Ravi — we’ve got people trapped inside. Some kind of holding cells. We need tools or a breaching kit, fast!”
Static. Then Bobby’s voice, tense.
“Copy that. We’re making our way in now. Be careful — we’ve got reports of unknown tech and unstable structures.”
Suddenly, one of the agents near the corner reached for something under his body.
Eddie spotted the movement and shouted, “Buck, down!”
A sharp, high-pitched pulse filled the air as a small device activated — not an explosion, but a flash of blinding light and a wave of concussive energy. Buck was thrown back into the metal wall, landing hard. Eddie ducked, shielding his head with his arm.
When the noise faded, Buck groaned and pushed himself up, dazed.
“Okay… not a bomb, but whatever that was — I hate it.”
The agents who were still conscious began dragging themselves away — some retreating through a hidden side door.
“They’re abandoning this place,” Eddie muttered. “That can’t be a good sign.”
Then, from the far end of the chamber, came a new sound — mechanical, heavy. A locked bulkhead began to creak open.
More footsteps. Not running this time. Marching.
Buck stood beside Eddie, both of them staring at the slowly opening door — muscles tense, ready for anything. But luck was finally on their side.
Instead of the enemy they were expecting, the silhouettes that emerged from the smoke were familiar.
Bobby and Ravi.
“What happened here? Looks like a bomb went off,” Ravi said, eyes wide as he scanned the destruction, carefully stepping around the blood pooling across the floor.
“Do you two need backup?” Bobby asked, already moving closer. “Seconds after your radio call, we heard an explosion and came in as fast as we could.”
Buck exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders just a bit.
“Yeah, we could use all the help we can get. There are civilians locked up in those cages — and something hostile just retreated down that hallway.”
Eddie nodded. “We need to get everyone out. Now. This place could collapse any second — or worse, they might come back.”
Bobby didn’t need any more convincing.
“Ravi, go with Buck — start breaking open those cages. Eddie, with me. We’ll check the far corridor for any remaining hostiles and make sure we’ve got a clear exit.”
Everyone nodded and sprang into action.
The room was a blur of movement — the hiss of bolt cutters, the groan of twisted metal, the low murmurs of reassurance as trapped civilians were pulled from their cages. Some could walk. Others had to be carried. All were terrified.
But even as they worked, the low mechanical hum from deeper in the facility returned — faint at first, like a dying machine struggling to restart.
Buck heard it. He paused, breathing heavy, and turned slowly toward the far hallway.
“Uh… guys?” he said.
Everyone looked up.
From the corridor’s end, a dull red light flickered to life. Then another. Then another.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Synchronized. Inhuman.
A door slammed open somewhere beyond the smoke.
And then — a voice.
Distorted. Cold.
“Unauthorized breach confirmed. Termination protocol activated.”
Buck took a shaky step back.
“Yeah… we’re out of time.”
Chapter 2: That was close
Chapter Text
“Unauthorized breach confirmed. Termination protocol activated.”
Buck took a shaky step back.
“Yeah… we’re out of time.”
The second those words left Buck’s mouth, the air erupted — gunfire tore through the corridor, bullets ricocheting off walls and slicing through the smoke.
The team hit the ground instantly, ducking behind chunks of rubble and shattered equipment.
“Well… that explains why they were running,” Ravi muttered, breathless as he pressed himself against a half-collapsed wall.
“Is anyone hit?!” Bobby called out, eyes scanning the team. “Everyone okay?”
There was a chorus of quick responses — shaken, but no one injured.
Buck reloaded his radio, even though he knew there was still no signal.
“They’re not just cleaning up. They’re hunting,” Captain said grimly. “Trying to get rid of any evidence of whatever they were doing here.”
“Let’s keep moving. No sudden moves — we don’t want to trigger anything else, if there’s more waiting,” Bobby added, his voice low but firm.
One by one, the four firefighters lifted the wounded civilians, adjusting their grip as gently as possible. Each step was cautious, their boots crunching softly over shattered glass and loose debris.
They moved toward the side door the agent had pointed out, hoping it wasn’t a trap — and praying it wasn’t already too late.
The hallway narrowed as they reached the heavy, half-rusted metal door. Ravi pushed against it first, but it didn’t budge.
“It’s stuck,” he said, frustration in his voice.
“Step aside,” Eddie said calmly, laying down njegovog ranjenog čovjeka na trenutak. On and Buck leaned into the door together, pushing with all their strength.
With a loud screech, the door gave way, revealing a dark, narrow stairwell leading downward.
The air that rushed out was colder. Older. Undisturbed.
“This doesn’t look promising,” Buck muttered.
“Neither does staying here,” Bobby answered. “Move.”
They descended slowly, the sound of boots on metal steps echoing around them. The wounded moaned quietly.
At the bottom of the stairs, they found another door — this one slightly open, its locking mechanism shattered from the inside.
Eddie shined his flashlight through the gap.
“Looks like some kind of lab,” he whispered.
They pushed the door open fully — and froze.
The room ahead was filled with broken containment pods, thick cables hanging from the ceiling, and pools of strange liquid on the floor. Medical equipment, surgical tools, and shattered computers were scattered across overturned tables.
The team stepped inside, boots slipping slightly on the wet floor. The air was sharp with a metallic scent — blood, chemicals, and something else they couldn’t place.
“This is… not just a lab,” Ravi whispered. “This looks like something out of a horror film.”
They moved carefully between the broken pods, some large enough to hold a person — others clearly meant for something else. Claw marks scratched across the inside of one shattered tank. Another had dried blood smeared along its rim.
“What were they keeping here?” Buck asked, eyes wide as he scanned the dim room.
Eddie crouched beside a console, brushing away shattered glass. “Hard to say — but whatever it was, it’s not here anymore.”
Then came a soft beeping sound — high-pitched and steady.
Bobby turned toward the corner of the room. A door marked 'Authorized Personnel Only' stood slightly ajar, red lights flashing faintly above it.
“Buck. Eddie. Check that door. Carefully.”
They approached, stepping over thick power cables. Buck nudged the door with the tip of his boot and let it swing open.
Behind it was a short hallway, leading to what looked like an exit ramp — an emergency evacuation tunnel. The air blowing through it was fresher, cooler.
“I think this is it,” Buck called back. “A way out.”
Relief rippled through the group. They started guiding the injured forward, one by one, through the tunnel.
But just before Bobby followed them in, he looked back at the lab one last time… and paused.
One of the monitors flickered to life — static, then a blurred video feed of their own team moving through the lab just seconds ago.
The angle was from the ceiling.
They were being watched.
Bobby’s eyes lingered on the flickering monitor for a moment too long.
The video feed showed their own team moving through the lab — an overhead camera shot, still warm with static.
Then, beneath the screen, a red warning flashed:
“PHASE TWO: INITIATED.”
He didn’t have time to question it.
“Bobby!” Hen shouted from the hallway. “We have to go!”
He turned and bolted after them, just as the lab lights began to dim and the floor underneath gave a faint shudder. Something deep below was waking up.
The tunnel beyond was narrow, low-ceilinged, and barely lit by flickering emergency lights. The air was stale, tinged with smoke and chemicals, but cooler than what they'd left behind.
No one spoke. Every second was spent helping the wounded forward — one step at a time.
Behind them, far in the distance, a low rumble began to build.
Buck was the first to glance over his shoulder.
“Do you hear that?”
No one answered — but they all moved faster.
Suddenly, a deep metallic groan echoed through the tunnel — then a boom. Dust rained from above. The walls shook.
“Something’s collapsing,” Ravi said, panicked. “Is it the building?”
“Keep moving!” Bobby ordered. “Don’t stop!”
They ran.
And just when it felt like the tunnel would give out completely — they burst through a final hatch and into open air.
Fresh wind hit their faces. Above them — trees. Sky. Freedom.
They were out.
One by one, the firefighters emerged from the earth, covered in ash and sweat, coughing, bleeding, exhausted — but alive. Ravi dropped to his knees. Buck collapsed onto his back and let out a strained laugh.
“We actually made it…” Buck muttered, looking behind them.
But there was no tunnel entrance. No hatch. No door.
Just a mound of disturbed dirt and grass — as if the earth had swallowed it all.
And then came the sound — distant but unmistakable.
A muffled explosion. Then another. Then a chain reaction.
The ground vibrated slightly beneath their feet as a subterranean detonation tore through the complex behind them.
They didn’t speak. They didn’t move. They only stared.
The entire facility was gone.
Whatever secrets it held — erased.
No logos. No name. No explanation.
Just ruins and silence.
“What the hell was that place?” Eddie finally asked, still catching his breath.
Bobby shook his head.
“I don’t know. But someone clearly wanted it buried.”
In the distance, sirens grew louder — finally, rescue teams were on their way.
But far below the earth, where the lab once stood, red lights blinked one last time before fading out completely.
The clearing where they emerged was soon flooded with flashing lights — ambulances, patrol cars, and federal vehicles pulled up one by one. Sirens cut through the forest silence. Dozens of responders swarmed the scene.
Paramedics rushed forward to assess the wounded. Hen and Chimney immediately switched gears, joining in to help stabilize the civilians they had carried out.
“Vitals are weak, but holding,” Hen told one EMT, who nodded and took over.
Bobby stood slightly apart, speaking quietly with a police sergeant. He kept his tone calm, but his eyes scanned the tree line.
Buck, meanwhile, sat on the bumper of a rescue unit, watching as two men in suits — not local police — walked toward Bobby.
“Uh… those don’t look like firefighters,” Buck muttered to Eddie, who sat beside him, arm bandaged.
“Nope. And they’re not medics either.”
The two men showed badges. Not LAPD. Not fire department.
“Federal,” Eddie said under his breath. “Or pretending to be.”
They spoke with Bobby for less than a minute before handing him a folder. Bobby didn’t open it — just stared at it for a long time.
Then, suddenly, one of the suited men turned toward the rest of the group.
“We’ll need statements,” he said. “But not here.”
Buck stood up. “Excuse me?”
“This incident is now classified. You're being transported to a secure location for debriefing. Protocol.”
Ravi whispered to Chimney, “This feels wrong.”
Chim just nodded.
Hen, still holding a clipboard, looked at Bobby.
“Do we go with them?”
Bobby’s jaw clenched.
“We don’t have a choice.”
As the team was guided into separate transport vehicles, none of them could shake the feeling that this wasn’t over. That what they had seen underground — the cages, the experiments, the sentinels — wasn’t meant to be found.
And even worse:
Someone had been watching the whole time.
Miles away, deep beneath the rubble of the destroyed facility, a single screen flickered to life — powered by an emergency core.
On it appeared a list of names.
Evan Buckley
Edmundo Diaz
Henrietta Wilson
Howard Han
Robert Nash
Ravi Panikkar
Next to each name: "EXPOSED - LEVEL 1."
Then, at the bottom of the screen, new text appeared:
“RECONSTRUCTION INITIATED. SUBJECT SURVEILLANCE ACTIVE.”
The screen faded to black.
Notes:
So what happens next???leave suggestion in the comments
Chapter 3: New friends
Notes:
I’m really sorry it took me so long to post a new chapter. But here it is — Chapter 3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
An infinite number of thoughts raced through their minds as they were loaded, one by one, into separate vehicles — isolated, silent, and watched.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind them with cold finality. Outside, six armored trucks rolled into formation, each carrying at least two armed agents whose faces gave nothing away.
No one spoke. No one explained.
The convoy moved through the fading daylight, tires grinding against asphalt as the facillity disappeared behind them. With every passing mile, the silence grew louder.
They didn’t know where they were going.
They didn’t know who was taking them
All they knew was that whatever they had walked into… it wasn’t over.
Not even close
--------------------
The ride felt endless.
Inside the vehicle, Buck sat quietly on a bench along the wall, arms resting on his knees. There were no restraints, no shouting — just silence.
Too much silence.
The dim overhead lights flickered every now and then, casting long shadows across the walls of the unmarked transport van. There were no windows, just cool metal and the low, steady hum of the engine beneath them.
Across from him sat two agents, both in dark tactical gear, helmets off but unreadable. They didn’t speak. They barely blinked. Buck didn’t bother asking questions — he knew they wouldn’t answer.
A few vehicles ahead, Eddie sat in a similar van, tapping his fingers nervously against the bench. No one had told them where they were going. No one had told them why they were being separated.
He stared at the floor, thoughts racing back to the facility — the lab, the pods, the things that didn’t belong underground. Things no one was supposed to see.
Even further up in the lead vehicle, Bobby rode with his arms crossed, gaze fixed ahead. The facility had long since disappeared behind them, replaced by empty highways, stretches of forest, and the pale blue glow of early evening.
He was trying to stay calm — to stay in control. But this wasn’t a normal debriefing. This was something else entirely.
The longer they drove, the more distant civilization felt.
No landmarks. No signs. Just trees. Endless trees.
The agents said nothing. Radios stayed quiet.
And though none of them were restrained, it didn’t feel like freedom.
It felt like a warning.
The silence inside the transport vehicle was starting to press in like a weight on Bobby’s chest.
He sat across from two armed agents, their posture rigid, eyes forward. Neither had said a word since they started moving.
He’d had enough.
Bobby shifted in his seat, the vibration of the engine a low hum beneath his boots. The ride had gone on too long, and the silence pressing in around him felt more like a warning than peace. His fingers drummed restlessly on his knee before he finally spoke again.
“Look, I get it — you’re doing your job. But I’ve led these people for years. At least tell me if they’re safe.”
The agent sitting across from him didn’t flinch. His expression remained neutral, almost rehearsed, as he offered a thin, professional smile.
“They’re fine, Captain. You’ll all be reunited soon. We just need individual reports first. That’s all.”
Reunited. The word rang in Bobby’s head like a bell with no echo — empty.
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing.
“Then why the armed escorts? Why separate vans, no radios, no comms?”
The agent tilted his head, voice cool and even.
“Precaution. What you experienced was… highly unusual.”
Bobby exhaled, the weight of fatigue settling on his shoulders.
“We’ve seen plenty. Death. Collapses. Fires. But this?”
His voice dropped.
“This wasn’t natural. Someone built that place. Someone planned it.”
A long silence followed.
Then the agent leaned sideways and opened a small drawer set into the wall of the vehicle. From it, he pulled a small injector filled with a faint blue liquid.
“This will help you relax for your statement,” he said, tone unchanged — as if this were just routine.
Bobby’s body tensed immediately.
“I don’t need anything to relax,” he replied, firmly but not aggressively.
The agent didn’t argue. He didn’t raise his voice.
He just nodded once — almost apologetically — and moved with clinical precision.
Before Bobby could react, the cold tip of the injector pressed against his neck.
A sharp hiss.
A sting.
Then nothing.
The world tilted sideways.
His limbs went heavy.
His vision blurred, the interior of the van dissolving into smudges of gray and silver.
The last thing he saw before everything went black was the agent calmly replacing the injector back into its drawer — as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
________________________________________________________
Inside the lead tactical vehicle, two plain-clothed agents sit across from a digital terminal glowing with live vitals, GPS feeds, and biometric profiles. The engine hums steadily beneath them as the convoy cuts deeper into remote territory.
Agent Cole:
“Status check. Subject Nash was sedated mid-transport. Minimal resistance — standard dose administered.”
Agent Ruiz:
“Noted. He was the team leader. It's understandable. Captains tend to ask the wrong questions when they're used to giving orders.”
Cole:
“Subjects Buckley and Diaz remain stable. Elevated awareness, but no signs of aggression. Both remained quiet during the ride. Buckley's eyes didn’t leave the agents, though.”
Ruiz:
“Expected. He's the intuitive one.”
Cole:
“Panikkar’s stress levels fluctuated early on, then leveled out. No verbal outbursts. Wilson and Han both attempted light questioning of their escorts but stayed within acceptable parameters.”
Ruiz:
“Any signs they recognize what they saw?”
Cole:
“Nothing concrete. The explosion and collapse did most of the work for us. Any remaining connections will surface during debrief.”
He taps a few keys. A map zooms in on a dense, forested area.
Ruiz:
“How far are we from Site Echo-7?”
Cole:
“Six minutes. Remote clearance zone. No cellular towers within thirty miles. Shielded perimeter. Underground facility is secure and stocked — full medical, two interrogation wings, decon stations, and holding suites for non-hostile civvies.”
Ruiz:
“Sounds like overkill for a firehouse.”
Cole:
“They walked into something they were never meant to find. Protocol requires full psychological and environmental analysis before they're cleared.”
Ruiz crosses his arms, watching the display update as the vehicles wind along a gravel road surrounded by trees.
Cole (continuing):
“We extract individual reports, verify consistency, and compare against surveillance before anything is passed to higher clearance.”
Ruiz:
“And if there's inconsistency?”
Cole:
“Then we ask again. Nicely, if possible.”
He glances at Bobby’s vitals.
Cole:
“Captain Nash is strong-willed. That sedation was regrettable, but necessary. We’ll let him rest for a few hours. He'll talk once the adrenaline fades.”
Ruiz (quietly):
“I wonder if they even realize the kind of place they’re headed.”
Outside, the convoy rounds a corner. Through the trees, steel begins to break through the greenery — low-profile watchtowers, camouflaged fencing, faint light glinting off buried satellite dishes.
Beyond the gate: concrete walls half-hidden in the hillside, security checkpoints, armored personnel, and a blast-proof tunnel leading underground.
The trucks begin to slow. and their files are already open.
______________________________________________________________________
The Quinjet cut across the treetops like a silent predator, sensors flaring red. Inside, Steve Rogers leaned over the console, watching as six unmarked armored transports rolled steadily through a remote forest road — no escorts, no signals, no registered route.
"Unregistered convoy. Civilian signatures detected inside," Natasha said from the copilot seat, brow furrowed.
"Heat readings confirm — multiple human passengers. No active restraints. But one’s vitals are irregular. Possibly sedated."
“That’s not protocol,” Steve said simply, standing.
Seconds later, they were descending.
Engines roared over the forest. The Quinjet dropped in front of the lead vehicle, forcing the convoy to stop hard, tires screeching on gravel. Dust exploded upward, swallowing the road.
The jet’s ramp lowered.
Three figures emerged, silhouetted against floodlights.
Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff. Sam Wilson.
Below, the agents stepped out of their trucks. Hands didn’t quite go for weapons, but tension filled the space between them. Eyes narrowed. Radios buzzed silently.
“This convoy is off-route and undocumented,” Steve called. “We need to inspect the passengers.”
The agent in charge stepped forward.
“We have clearances. These are civilian responders. Debriefing transport.”
Steve’s gaze sharpened.
“Debriefing doesn’t involve sedatives.”
He moved to the side and slammed his shield into the lead truck’s door — hard. The lock cracked. The doors flung open.
Inside: a man in a fire captain’s jacket. Slumped. Unconscious. IV still in his arm.
Natasha’s voice dropped cold.
“Firefighters.”
Steve turned to the agent again.
“Who authorized this?”
No answer.
Suddenly, a voice came from behind the second truck.
“Who the hell are you people?”
Buck.
Eyes wide, breathing sharp, stepping into the open light with raised hands.
Behind him, Eddie, tense but silent, watching everything like a soldier.
They weren’t injured. They weren’t armed.
They were confused. On edge. Dirty from smoke and dust.
Natasha aimed her sidearm down — not at them, but just enough to keep them cautious.
“We’re here to help.”
“Funny way of showing it,” Buck shot back. “You drop from the sky and rip doors off vans. You helping or invading?”
Steve raised a hand.
“You’re not in trouble. We don’t know who you are. But we know you’re not supposed to be here.”
Eddie finally spoke.
“Neither do we.”
Silence.
Wind passed through the trees. The Quinjet hovered above, unmoving.
Two sides.
Both confused.
Both wary.
And both beginning to realize — they were all being used.
Smoke still lingered in the air as the last of the fires dimmed behind them, but the danger wasn’t gone — it had only shifted.
Eddie half-carried Bobby across the uneven ground, one arm firmly around his captain’s torso as Buck held open the hatch of the hovering Quinjet. Bobby’s head lolled to the side, face pale, lips slightly parted, still lost in whatever drug the agents had forced into his system.
“Come on, Cap,” Eddie muttered, voice shaking as he adjusted his grip. “You’re not tapping out on us now.”
Inside the Quinjet, cool sterile lights bathed the interior in soft white. The air smelled like metal and ozone — unfamiliar but safe. More importantly: secure. Buck climbed in first and helped Eddie lift Bobby onto a medical stretcher built into the sidewall.
Hen rushed in next, eyes wide, breath hitched as she dropped her gear.
“What the hell happened to him?” she asked, her hands already reaching for a pulse.
Natasha was close behind them, her tone brisk but calm.
“He was sedated. Fast-acting neuroinhibitor. He should wake up soon — just a bit disoriented.”
Hen stared at her.
“You say that like that’s a normal thing.”
“For some people, it is,” Natasha said softly.
Buck’s jaw clenched. He moved to sit beside Bobby’s stretcher, his back still tight with tension, hands restless.
Steve appeared at the entrance, speaking to someone on his comm before looking at them.
“We’re taking you to our facility. You’ll be safe there. Monitored. No one else will touch you.”
Eddie looked up, face still marked with grime and confusion.
“Why? Who are you people? Why did someone feel the need to drug our captain and lie to us about everything?”
Sam stepped in, wiping dust from his cheek as he took his seat.
“Because someone didn’t want you talking. Whatever you saw back there — that facility — it wasn’t supposed to be found.”
The Quinjet’s engines powered up with a steady hum, the entire frame vibrating gently as the landing struts retracted. Trees bowed in the wind of its ascent. Below them, the burned-out road and remains of the convoy shrank into darkness.
Buck looked out the side window, his reflection flickering against the stars.
“This feels bigger than just some underground lab.”
Steve met his gaze.
“It is.”
The Quinjet tilted forward, sliding smoothly into the night sky.
Outside, the world fell away — forest, roads, wreckage — all of it dissolving into a blur of black and ash.
Inside, they sat in silence. Bruised. Unsteady. But together.
And heading somewhere they never expected to be.
Notes:
So the avengers are here. Please feel free to leave suggestions on what you’d like to see happen next
Chapter 4: We should do that again
Notes:
Sorry for the long wait , but Chapter 4 is finally here
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Two Weeks Later
“Wow, this tower is huge, it’s like something straight out of a movie,” Buck said with a grin, eyes wide in amazement. “Is this home for all of you, or do y’all live separately?”
As he waited for an answer, Buck kept glancing around, taking in the massive structure rising above every other building on Manhattan Island.
“This is our main tower,” Natasha explained, walking beside him. “But we’ve got other compounds around the world. We can’t really rely on just one building to store all our gear , because our missions take us everywhere. And yeah, we all live here together. It’s easier to build trust and stay connected when you live with your team.”
“And over here,” Hawkeye added, gesturing with a sweep of his arm, “is the kitchen. It’s connected to the dining room, and just through there is the common room it's where we do most of our team bonding.”
Like excited kids on a field trip, Ravi, Eddie, and Buck eagerly stepped into the rooms, looking around with wide eyes. Everything was sleek, modern, and glowing with advanced tech , like something out of a sci-fi film.
Buck wandered into the kitchen, already imagining himself recreating the dishes Bobby had taught him. The countertops stretched endlessly, stocked with appliances he didn’t even recognize. The cabinets overflowed with ingredients. Bobby would love this, he thought with a soft smile.
Eddie stood in the common room, gazing at the wall sized screen and gaming setup. He couldn’t help but imagine how excited Christopher would be to play here and the sheer number of games and streaming services was overwhelming. He’d never want to leave this place.
And Ravi, the newest member of the 118, looked around thoughtfully. His eyes scanned the polished surfaces, the multi-functional screens, and the state of the art design. Imagine the kind of bonding our team could have if we had a place like this, he thought. It makes everything feel... sharper. Closer.
Buck’s eyes sparkled as he leaned on the kitchen counter, still taking in the grandeur of the tower. The smooth, chrome surfaces, the wall-length windows overlooking Manhattan, the quiet hum of technology in every corner, it all felt unreal.
“So… any chance we could come back sometime? Maybe bring the rest of the 118? Just to show them around, trade a few stories?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but the eagerness in his voice betrayed him
Eddie, standing next to him, gave a soft sigh, not quite scolding.
“Buck. Come on. We don’t even really know these people yet.”
Clint, who had been leaning against the kitchen island sipping coffee, let out a short laugh and set his mug down.
“Actually… that’s not the worst idea. Most of our missions end in a mess. Fires, structural collapse, environmental hazards. Having someone like your team on call for support? That could work both ways.” And hey, sharing stories sounds better than debriefs with Fury.”
Natasha, seated at the edge of the dining table with arms loosely crossed, lifted a brow.
“Provided your people don’t bring more chaos than we already have. This place walks a fine line between functioning HQ and overgrown daycare.”
Ravi chuckled from behind the counter, where he was eyeing a glowing panel on the fridge that he couldn’t figure out how to open.
“Too late. Buck is our chaos—and he doesn’t even try to hide it.”
“Hey, chaos is efficient sometimes,” Buck replied, grinning.
A sudden hush fell over the group after Buck’s last comment. It wasn’t tense—just one of those awkward silences where no one quite knew what to say next. Some of the 118 exchanged glances; even the usually talkative Buck seemed at a loss.
Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably.
“So… hate to cut short our very impressive, slightly surreal tour of Stark Tower,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of regret and practicality, “but we’ve got a shift in twelve hours back in L.A. Any chance we could get there in… I don’t know, six or seven?” He offered a small, half-hearted smile.
“Because I’m pretty sure Cap wouldn’t be thrilled to find out three firefighters just vanished without checking in during their day off.”
Natasha didn’t even blink.
“That’s doable. We can have the Quinjet ready in twenty. Flight time to L.A. should be around two, maybe two and a half hours—depending on airspace clearance.”
Her tone was calm, like she was talking about ordering takeout, not using a multimillion-dollar aircraft for a cross-country trip.
Buck blinked.
“Wait. Did you just say Quinjet like it’s a cab?”
Natasha looked at him, lips twitching just slightly at the corner.
“You get used to it.”
Ravi let out a low whistle.
“Man… I don’t think I’m ever going back to commercial flights after this.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Eddie warned him lightly, though even he looked impressed. “We’re still firefighters, not superheroes.”
“Speak for yourself,” Buck said, grinning. “I already got my superhero nickname picked out. Just need the suit.”
Clint rolled his eyes.
“Let’s get you back to L.A. before you start asking for your own theme music.”
As they all began to move toward the hangar access, the mood lightened—easy, warm, the kind of comfort that settles in after shared chaos. The hangar doors slid open, revealing a massive space filled with sleek black aircraft, their frames gleaming under cool white lights.
Buck stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide.
“Wait , how many of these do you guys have? They look like something straight out of Star Wars.”
His voice was full of childlike awe as he stared at the 7 or 8 Quinjets lined up in neat formation. The hangar was enormous, easily the size of two or three firehouses stacked together.
Clint lit up.
“You watched Star Wars?”
There was almost too much joy in his voice.
“Finally, someone with taste. Nobody around here ever wants to watch it on movie night. I’ve been trying to get those movies on the screen for months”
“Save the geek talk for later,” Natasha cut in smoothly, her voice suddenly sharp and low like a blade slipping from its sheath.
“They’ve got a shift in twelve hours. You and I have a debriefing. Let’s not turn this into a fan convention.”
Her tone sent a subtle chill through the room. Buck immediately straightened, trying not to look startled by her sudden shift in demeanor.
Taking the not so subtle cue, the trio of firefighters moved toward the closest Quinjet, still clearly amazed by the high-tech interior smooth consoles, locked compartments, and more buttons than any of them wanted to count.
Eddie hesitated at the bottom of the ramp, blinking.
“Wait,you’re not coming with us?”
There was a noticeable edge of panic in his voice.
“I mean, I don’t know anything about flying. I barely trust Uber.”
“Yeah,” Ravi jumped in, eyes darting around the cockpit.
“Do we need to press buttons or... flip switches or something? ‘Cause that’s not really in our training.”
Natasha gave a rare, amused smirk.
“You won’t have to lift a finger. Just sit and relax.”
She folded her arms.
“J.A.R.V.I.S. will handle the flight. He’s the AI that runs the Tower. Best tech in the world. He won’t crash you or kill you. And that’s all you need to know about him.”
There was a pause. Then Buck, still half-spinning to take in the interior, tried to lighten the tension.
“Okay, no pressure, I get it. Just... wow. Somebody woke up cranky today.”
He shot her a playful grin.
It didn’t land.
Eddie gave him a hard don’t look. Ravi shot a wide-eyed please shut up glance. Natasha’s eyes narrowed just enough to make Buck gulp and quietly retreat to the nearest seat.
He flopped down, muttering under his breath,
“Man... Avengers really need an HR department.”
Natasha turned to the cockpit, voice clipped.
“If that’s all, you’re cleared to depart. Flight to L.A. will begin now.”
Eddie stepped in as unofficial spokesperson, giving a polite nod.
“Yes. That’s all. Really,thank you for everything. The tour, the help… and the ride home.”
His tone wasn’t just grateful. It was begging Buck not to say anything else.
The ramp lifted. The hatch sealed with a soft hiss. Inside the jet, the three firefighters exchanged glances trying to hold back laughter, awe, and maybe a little residual fear.
They didn’t speak, not for a few minutes.
But then Ravi slumped back and exhaled.
“I don’t care how weird that was... I’m gonna tell others I flew in a spaceship.”
“It’s not a spaceship,” Eddie said, eyes already closing as his head leaned back.
“It is to me,” Ravi shot back.
And Buck, despite himself, smiled one hand resting on the couch arm, the other already itching to text Chimney a full play by play once they landed.
Somehow, in the middle of all this madness, it felt like they had just made a few very strange, very powerful new friends.
Notes:
Hope you all enjoyed a bit of Avengers and 118 bonding time
Please tell me what should happen next, and how are you liking story so far
And the chapter 5 will be published probably tomorrow, and i'm sorry if there any grammar mistakes. I hope yall wil enjoy this chapter
Chapter 5: Competition
Notes:
"Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments,it truly means the world to me! Here's Chapter 5, hope you enjoy!"
Chapter Text
“Cap, you have to see their kitchen,” Buck said, eyes wide as he gestured animatedly with a fork. “It’s huge, like, five times the size of our station’s. And they’ve got more ingredients and gadgets than every firehouse in L.A. combined.”
Across the table, Bobby arched an eyebrow but didn’t look up from his plate. “Buck, if you keep talking, you're going to miss your chance to eat. And I don’t think Chimney’s planning to save you a plate.”
Buck shot a dramatic glare toward Chim, who was already halfway through his second serving. “Traitor,” he muttered, grabbing his fork again and diving into the meal like it might disappear any second.
From the far end of the table, Ravi leaned forward eagerly, nearly knocking over his water glass. “So... when do we get to bring you guys there? I mean, seriously , that tower? The spaceship? You have to see it.”
Hen gave him a skeptical look. “Did you just say spaceship?”
“It is not a spaceship,” Eddie said flatly, not even looking up from his food. His tone carried that familiar mix of exhaustion and exasperation , the same one he used whenever Buck and Ravi got a little too excited.
Ravi blinked, lips parting like he wanted to argue ,but Buck beat him to it.
“Well, it flies super fast, it has fancy weapons, an auto-pilot voiced by a British butler, and I swear the seats recline in like, five different directions,” Buck rattled off, waving his fork again. “If that’s not a spaceship, I don’t know what is.”
Eddie sighed, finally lifting his eyes. “You called the soap dispenser futuristic.”
Buck grinned, unbothered. “Because it was. Did you see the way it glowed?”
“Glowed?” Hen repeated, laughing under her breath. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head in that tower?”
Chimney leaned back in his seat, mouth full but still managing to say, “Either way, I’m in. I don’t care what it is , jet, spaceship, whatever ,if it gets me across the country in under three hours without airport security, sign me up.”
Bobby gave him a look. “We’ll talk about that after the shift. If we survive the day without someone trying to pilot the firetruck like it’s a spaceship.”
Buck leaned back in his chair, smug. “Now that would be something.”
Eddie didn’t even bother replying , he just stabbed a piece of chicken a little too hard and muttered, “It’s. Not. A spaceship.”
After the members of the 118 finished their lunch which still tasted like a five star meal Bobby they split off into two groups, as naturally as they always did.
The first group: Bobby and Hen, ever the responsible ones, headed toward the sink with sleeves already rolled up. The second: Buck, Eddie, Ravi, and Chimney…well, they gravitated toward the couch like moths to a flame , or maybe just chaos to chaos.
"Why do we always end up doing the dishes?" Hen asked, reaching for the sponge.
"Because we know how not to destroy a kitchen," Bobby replied, eyeing the empty plates and coffee cups like a battlefield. “And because if we don’t, Buck’s going to try to load the dishwasher like it’s a game of Jenga again.”
Hen snorted. “Fair point.”
Meanwhile, in the living room
“I’m just saying,” Ravi started, tone completely serious, “if J.A.R.V.I.S. controls everything, does that technically make him…like, the landlord?”
Buck blinked. “Whoa. Wait. That means Stark Tower is basically a smart apartment complex.”
“Do you think he pays himself rent?” Chimney asked, joining in. “Like does he bill himself monthly?”
Eddie, sitting with his arms crossed, slowly shook his head. “This is what you’re choosing to talk about? Out of everything we just saw?”
Buck threw a cushion at him. “You’re just mad ‘cause you don’t wonder. That’s your problem.”
“My problem,” Eddie said dryly, “is that I’m stuck with three toddlers in adult bodies.”
“Okay, but like... seriously now,” he started, eyes wide with thought. “How do we contact them again?”
“You mean the Avengers?” Chimney asked.
“No, Chim, I mean the pizza guy from space. Yes, the Avengers,” Buck replied, sitting up and looking around at the others. “We were at Stark freaking Tower and didn’t get a number? Email? Emergency superhero hotline?”
“You really think they hand out business cards?” Eddie said, one brow raised.
“I dunno,” Ravi shrugged. “Maybe like... a chip? Or a code hidden in one of the walls?”
“Ravi,” Hen called from the kitchen, “that’s called stealing.”
“I meant symbolically!” he defended.
“Symbolic or not, I’m not getting arrested by a robot,” Bobby added, drying his hands.
“But really,” Chimney leaned in. “What if we just hang around downtown L.A. until something explodes, and then we... help? And they show up again?”
“Great,” Eddie muttered. “Let’s just wait for a near apocalypse so Buck can ask Cap for a selfie.”
“I didn’t get a selfie!” Buck threw his hands in the air. “Do you even understand how painful that is for me?!”
“Look,” Ravi said thoughtfully, “they had that AI guy. J.A.R.V.I.S. He knew everything about us. If they want to find us, they will.”
“Yeah, well, until then, I’m gonna keep looking up every time I hear a jet,” Buck declared. “Might even build a landing pad on the roof.”
“That’s your plan?” Eddie deadpanned. “A landing pad. On our firehouse.”
“You never know,” Buck grinned. “They did fly us home in a multi-million dollar spaceship and didn’t even let us touch the controls. That means they trust us. Kind of.”
“Or they don’t,” said Chimney. “Like... at all.”
“They could’ve sent us home in a cab,” Buck countered.
“And now you wanna build a helipad for superheroes?” Eddie stared at him blankly. “What happened to being normal?”
Buck leaned back again, smug. “Normal’s boring.”
“Quinjet’s not a spaceship,” Eddie muttered under his breath.
Later , the 118 was winding down. Bobby was reviewing call logs in the office, Hen and Chim were finishing up dishes, and Ravi had passed out with a half eaten protein bar still in his hand, and Eddie was
Buck, meanwhile, couldn’t stop thinking about the Tower. The conversations. The sheer weight of it all. It still didn’t feel real. He kept replaying every moment in his head , except one small detail had started to bug him more and more.
In the background, while they were all joking about firefighter poles and alien tech, he remembered catching a glimpse of someone walking by the glass hallway , someone in a dark suit, with goggles pushed up on his head. Sam Wilson. He hadn’t stopped to say anything. Didn’t join the group. Just glanced over and kept walking.
But now Buck couldn’t shake it.
So, laying on his bunk with the soft hum of L.A. traffic below the firehouse windows, he took a chance.
He opened Instagram and typed in samwilson.
Official account. Verified. Few hundred thousand followers. No wild flexing, just solid photos , training grounds, airstrips, military bases, and skyline views. And there, in a post from two days ago, Buck recognized the Tower’s rooftop.
He stared at the message box. Thought for a second. Then went for it.
Hey. Sorry if this is weird, but this is Evan Buckley ,from the 118 in L.A. You passed by us at the Tower the other day, didn’t say anything, which is fair, but… I think you heard some of what we said? About maybe working together more? Just wanted to say it wasn’t just small talk. Some of us really meant it.
A few hours passed. Buck actually forgot he even sent the message.
Then, just past midnight, when most of the station was dead quiet, his phone buzzed.
New Message from Sam Wilson
Yeah, I heard. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But you guys were loud , and excited. That’s not a bad thing.
I didn’t step in because, to be honest, we don’t usually get offers like that. Most people are either scared of what we do… or trying to get something from it. You guys weren’t either.
Buck blinked.
BUCK: We meant it. We’re just people who run into danger. Like you. Maybe less tech. Less aliens. But same goal.
SAM WILSON: Same goal is enough.
SAM WILSON: I talked to Steve. And Romanoff. They’re not against it. Might take a few steps. Some coordination. But if your captain is up for a chat , we are too.
Buck sat upright, heart thudding. He reread the messages twice.
BUCK: I’ll talk to him. Bobby’s the kind of guy who still writes on paper, but if he meets you guys, he’ll get it.
SAM WILSON: Then it’s a start.
There was a pause before Sam sent a final message.
SAM WILSON: You know, Natasha thinks I didn’t hear that whole “is it a spaceship” comment. I did. Just letting you know you’ve got a rep now. 😎
Buck laughed under his breath.
BUCK: Damn. Guess I better live up to it, huh?
In the control room of the Tower, somewhere deep in the interface of a glowing screen, a log entry popped up with a subject line that read:
"118 Los Angeles: Potential Collaborative Unit – Flagged for Wilson / Natasha / Steve"
And beneath it, Sam Wilson’s note:
“Fire doesn’t care if you’re human or alien. Neither do these guys. Let’s talk.”
Chapter 6: Approval
Notes:
I’m really sorry for not posting a new chapter for so long I got a bit lazy and distracted with other things. Thank you for your patience!
WARNING: Things are about to take a turn for the worse… and they might stay that way for quite a while. I mean, I can’t let this fic be too happy all the time what kind of author would I be?
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Buck really wanted , really wanted to wake someone up and tell them all about his messages with none other than Sam Wilson. But he couldn’t. His whole team was knocked out cold, resting before the next call came in, and it was already late at night.
He’d also promised the others that he’d actually go to sleep, so he could be rested and avoid making any mistakes during a call mistakes that could get someone hurt, delay rescuing a victim, or happen just because his sleep-deprived brain couldn’t focus. He knew the risks: missing a shout, fumbling equipment, or just being too slow because he was running on fumes.
So, instead of screaming at the top of his lungs about his little interaction or possible meeting with the Avengers, his next move was simple. Buck plugged his phone in, rolled over in his bunk, and let sleep take him within ten minutes.
THE NEXT DAY
It wasn’t his alarm that woke him up. No , it was something a thousand times better.
It was like something straight out of a book’s perfect morning scene: warm rays of sunlight slipping through the blinds — set, as he liked to call it, in “day mode.” And as if that wasn’t enough, the scent of breakfast drifted up to meet him. He didn’t need to think twice to know who was cooking.
Normally, Buck needed a few minutes to figure out where he was and what needed doing that day. But this morning was different. This morning, he had the biggest news to share news he could barely keep to himself.
Once he was in a semi-presentable state, he noticed he wasn’t the only one having a storybook wake up. Eddie and Chimney, who had also overslept, joined him.
With the barely contained excitement of a kid on Christmas morning, Buck headed up the stairs to the kitchen, where breakfast was just minutes from being served.
“Good morning, Buck,” said Cap in his usual commanding,but friendly voice.
“Yeah, good morning,” Buck replied quickly, not wanting to waste time. He wanted to get straight to the point so they could discuss his idea over breakfast. “Sooo… guys, I have to tell you something.” His tone was nervous, like a kid in a school play hoping he wouldn’t say anything that would get his idea shot down.
“Spit it out, Buck,” Hen urged, already curious. She’d never admit it out loud, but she loved when Buck made some ridiculous decision that ended up with the whole station helping solve it. Those were the moments they had the most fun.
Bobby just nodded, smiling, waiting to hear what his unofficially adopted son had done this time.
The second Buck opened his mouth and started gesturing with his hands, the two missing crew members finally appeared, interrupting him with their standard morning greetings.
First up the stairs was Chimney, with Eddie right behind. They both offered separate “good mornings,” and got almost the same distracted response from Buck.
“Okay, guys, somebody please set the table while Buck tells us whatever it is he’s dying to share,” Hen said. She turned back to him. “Go on, continue.”
Not wanting to get on Hen’s bad side, Chimney immediately jumped into action, stacking plates and setting them up neatly, all while making a deal with Eddie that he’d pick them up once breakfast was finished.
“So, guys… remember our conversation yesterday about the Avengers? You know, about maybe finding a way to contact them?” Buck asked, his voice bubbling with excitement.
“How could we forget that fiasco,” Eddie muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Go on, Buck. What did you do this time?” Hen added, her tone half-curious, half-exasperated, ready to hear what mess Buck had gotten them into now.
Buck raised his hands in mock defense, grinning. “It isn’t anything bad, I promise! Actually it’s the opposite. Remember how we talked about connecting with the Avengers? Well .. I did it.” His words practically tumbled out of his mouth as he bounced in place. “I messaged one of them and he answered!”
Chimney, still balancing plates, froze mid step. “Who did you contact?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in disbelief.
“Sam Wilson!” Buck announced proudly. “He saw me, Eddie, and Ravi the other day when we were at the Tower. He was rushing off to some meeting, so he didn’t say anything then, but,he heard about our little ‘spaceship’ debate. And when I reached out to him, he actually remembered! He said…” Buck was practically glowing now, his grin wide enough to split his face. His whole body shook with the effort of not leaping into the air with excitement.
“He said that the Avengers could actually use some friends in the fire department, especially with all the cleanups they have to deal with after their missions. And I” Buck slapped his palm on the table for emphasis“I recommended us. I told him we could be their string to the fire department. And guess what? He said they could definitely work something out only if everybody was on board with the idea.”
By the time Buck finally finished his breathless ramble, everyone had already settled into their seats, plates of Bobby’s cooking steaming in front of them. Their captain’s food smelled too good to ignore, but Buck’s words had stolen their focus.
“So, Cap what do you think? Please,” Buck begged, his eyes wide, his whole expression turning into a puppy-dog plea as he leaned forward, desperate for Bobby’s approval before anyone else could shut the idea down.
“Please, I’ll do whatever you want for however long you want literally anything,” Buck added quickly, tripping over his own words in his desperation.
“Wait, Buck slow down,”Bobby finally interrupted, his voice low and touched with genuine shock at the request and the insane idea laid out before him. He stared at Buck, caught between disbelief and the weight of responsibility for his team
The room went silent, the only sound the faint sizzle of bacon cooling in the pan behind him.
“Captain, come on,” Buck leaned forward, his elbows nearly sliding into his plate. “This is a real chance! The Avengers. The Avengers. They trust us enough to even consider this.”
Hen raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Or maybe they just humored you, Buck. You do realize superheroes don’t exactly exchange numbers with random firefighters, right?”
“It wasn’t like that!” Buck defended himself, throwing his hands up. “Sam Wilson isn’t just some random superhero,he’s Falcon. He said they needed us!”
Eddie sighed, shaking his head as he cut into his food. “And what happens when this turns into something bigger than clean up duty, huh? Buck, if they call us, we won’t just be holding hoses anymore. They’ll drag us into their mess.”
“That’s not what he said,” Buck countered immediately, eyes darting between Eddie and Bobby, desperate. “He was clear it’s about support, about having a team they can rely on when things calm down. We’d still be firefighters we’d just… be their firefighters.”
Chimney chuckled nervously, finally sitting down after finishing his task. “Wow. That’s comforting. ‘Hey, we saved New York from an alien invasion,now could you guys clean up aisle five?’” He mimed mopping the floor.
Buck ignored him, gaze locked firmly on Bobby. His voice softened now, carrying more sincerity than excitement. “Cap, I know it sounds crazy, but think about it. All the disasters, all the aftermaths they’re human problems too. And who better than us to help? We’ve already been in the middle of some of this stuff.”
Bobby placed his fork down slowly, folding his hands on the table. His team watched him carefully, waiting. His silence was heavy, like he was weighing the responsibility in his head.
“Buck,” Bobby finally said, his voice calm but firm, “you’re asking me to let this station step into a world that’s bigger, messier, and a lot more dangerous than what we already deal with. I won’t make that decision lightly. Not without all of us agreeing. And not without me knowing this won’t put my people at risk.”
Buck’s face fell a little, but hope still flickered in his eyes. “So… you’re not saying no?”
Bobby gave him a look, stern but not unkind. “I’m saying we need to talk about this. As a team. And until then,you’re not making any more promises to Falcon or anyone else. Understood?”
Buck nodded quickly, practically bouncing in his seat again. “Understood! Totally understood.”
Hen smirked into her coffee. “This is going to end badly. I can already feel it.”
Buck nodded quickly, Then, leaning forward, he grinned. “But… can we have that talk now? Please? Before anyone changes their mind?”
Bobby let out a long sigh, glancing around at the others. Hen rolled her eyes, Eddie muttered something under his breath, and Chimney just smirked, already reaching for the syrup. Finally, Bobby nodded.
“Fine. We’ll talk now. But everyone gets a say.”
The table filled with groans, half-jokes, and a spark of excitement in Buck’s eyes that refused to die down. Breakfast carried on with arguments, side comments, and more than one sarcastic remark about superheroes, until eventually the last bites were eaten.
By the time the discussion wound down, plates were being stacked, forks clinking, and Chimney stood to start clearing the table. The morning sunlight streamed into the kitchen as the team moved together, the normalcy of dish-clearing standing in sharp contrast to the extraordinary decision now hanging over them.
And Buck? He was already planning the next step.
Notes:
So… I owe you all an apology This chapter ended up way shorter than I intended. My lazy ass completely forgot that I actually needed a transition chapter to connect everything before Buck and the others finally meet the Avengers. The good news? I already wrote the next three chapters, so the story will definitely continue with new chapter in next few days
Chapter 7: Next step
Notes:
Enjoy the fluff, and I’m sorry in advance. Please don’t mind the new tags,at least not yet
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It wasn’t that hard , everyone was almost immediately on board with Buck’s idea once they heard more details from Falcon. And when they realized they’d even get paid for the extra help, the decision became much easier.
“Cap, you gotta think this through,” said Chimney. “Just imagine how much better life could be for me and Maddie with a little financial help from the Avengers.”
After Chimney’s words, Eddie quickly jumped in to help convince their captain.
“Cap, please. I could finally buy Christopher that Lego set he’s been begging me for the past four months,” Eddie said, glancing back at Bobby, who was still focused on finishing their lunch.
“You’ll have my announcement by the end of the shift,” Bobby replied firmly. And before anyone could press further, the alarm blared through the firehouse, announcing that the 118 wouldn’t be spending their whole shift sitting around and playing games.
END OF THE SHIFT
They all gathered on the couch, waiting for Bobby as he came up the stairs. Nervous energy filled the room, like they were about to find out if they were being fired or something worse.
“So, what’s the final say?” Hen finally broke the ice.
“As I said, the decision would come by the end of the shift,” Bobby answered, keeping his voice professional so no one would resent him if the news turned out bad.
“And my answer is..” The tension in the air was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Everyone held their breath until Bobby finally finished:
“Buck’s idea is accepted , by me, and by the fire department.”
The room exploded in cheers. Smiles broke across faces, hugs were exchanged at every step. Bobby himself was not spared, though his hug was a group effort ,five people wrapping around him at once, leaving him gasping for air.
When they finally let him go, Bobby chuckled and added, “And besides, Athena and I could use a little financial help too. and the department agreed because their publicity will increase from this.”
“So… when’s our first meeting?” Buck asked, still buzzing with excitement, not wanting to let the hype fade.
“Don’t worry about that, Buck,” Bobby reassured. “Everything’s already handled. We’re free of our shift on Friday , that’s when the first meeting is.”
Another wave of smiles and laughter filled the room. With that, everyone started packing up their things, heading home to prepare for what promised to be a very big Friday.
FRIDAY
The crew of the 118, with Buck leading the way, approached the same spot where the Quinjet had dropped off him and Eddie just a few days ago.
“So this is where that thing dropped you off? And what, they’re just magically going to show up five minutes before we’re supposed to head to New York?” Chimney said, earning a few nods of agreement from Hen.
“Don’t worry, they’ll come. Trust me,” Buck reassured them.
Almost a minute later, the Quinjet appeared, its large doors opening to reveal an empty interior.
“Wait, guys, who’s flying this? None of us have a clue how to operate something like this,” Hen said, stepping inside anyway. She wasn’t a fan of arguments, and she knew they never ended well when it came to trusting Buck.
“Welcome, Firefighters Wilson, Diaz, Buckley, Han, and Captain Nash,” a calm British voice greeted them. “Please take your seats and enjoy your flight. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.”
As they sat down and followed the instructions, Captain Bobby frowned. “Who the hell is that?”
“I am J.A.R.V.I.S., an artificial intelligence created by Tony Stark. I assist the Avengers and, for this flight, I am your pilot. I assure you, Captain, you are in safe hands.”
Bobby exchanged a skeptical look with his team, but said nothing.
“Relax,” J.A.R.V.I.S. added. “You’ll arrive at your destination in approximately two to three hours.” Then, without further warning, AC/DC started playing at just the right volume,loud enough to enjoy, but not so loud it drowned out conversation.
“So, J.A.R.V.I.S., what can we do to pass the time?” Chimney asked, clearly testing the AI’s intelligence.
“Whatever you wish, Firefighter. To your right, in the storage locker, you’ll find several board games. Or, if you prefer, I can change the music to something more to your taste. Additionally, I can suggest conversation topics or themes, if that would be of interest.”
“Yeah, we’ll figure out something fun,” Chimney muttered, still glancing around as his brain tried to process all the new information.
Not much time passed before the Quinjet was filled with chatter. Two or three board games had already been set out on the table, and they were bickering over which one to play. In the end, it didn’t really matter,because their day was about to get a thousand times more interesting in just a couple of hours.
THE MEETING
Just like J.A.R.V.I.S. promised, the crew of the 118 reached New York in less than two hours. At exactly 2 p.m., the Quinjet touched down smoothly on top of Stark Tower. The firefighters began unbuckling themselves, quickly gathering up the board games they’d been playing with the kind of excitement only kids usually had.
“So… we actually made it?” Hen asked, her voice carrying a mix of relief and awe as she stepped out. Her eyes widened at the sight of the enormous tower, easily the tallest building she had ever seen.
“That is correct, Firefighter Wilson,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied with his usual calm tone. “You have reached your destination. The Avengers will meet you shortly in the common room.”
The moment the last firefighter stepped out of the Quinjet, the ship’s massive doors sealed shut behind them, leaving them standing in the crisp New York air atop Stark Tower. For a second, none of them spoke,just taking in the unbelievable reality of where they were.
The firefighters were still taking in the sight of the glass and steel giant when the sound of sliding doors pulled their attention back. Stepping out to greet them was Sam Wilson, dressed in his casual black jacket, hands tucked into his pockets. His stance carried a mix of confidence and ease, like someone who had seen it all and still found humor in most things.
“Well, look at that,” Sam said with a half smile as he approached. “Five firefighters from L.A. dropped on top of Stark Tower like it’s just another Friday. Welcome to New York, folks and welcome to the Tower.”
Bobby extended a hand automatically, and Sam shook it firmly. “Sam Wilson,” he introduced himself. “Some people call me Falcon, but let’s keep things simple. I’ll be your tour guide so you don’t end up wandering into places you really don’t wanna wander into.” His tone carried just enough seriousness to make them all glance at each other.
“Like what places?” Chimney asked curiously.
Sam smirked, lowering his voice as if he were about to share a secret. “Well, let’s just say Tony liked his privacy. And if you see a door with his name on it, pretend it’s not there. Trust me, saves everyone a lot of paperwork.”
They followed him into the gleaming interior of the tower. The main hallway stretched wide and clean, lined with glossy metal and glass panels, the kind of futuristic design that made even Buck slow down to absorb every detail.
When they passed a heavy set of blacked out windows, Hen immediately slowed her steps. The doors were marked in bold silver letters: STARK LAB. The glass was completely opaque, offering no glimpse inside. It gave the room an almost mysterious weight.
“Is that?” Hen began, unable to hide her curiosity.
“That,” Sam interrupted smoothly, “is Tony’s playground. Or… it was. J.A.R.V.I.S. keeps it sealed tight unless you’ve got clearance. Which, spoiler alert , none of you do.” His grin softened the sting of the words. “So yeah, as far as you’re concerned, it’s just a really expensive closet.”
Chimney leaned forward a little, squinting at the black glass. “Come on, not even a peek?”
Sam shot him a look, the kind that said he’d had this conversation a hundred times before. “Buddy, if I let you peek, I’d have to explain to Pepper why a firefighter from L.A. was nose deep in half-finished weapons systems and robot parts. You really wanna have that talk with her?”
Chimney quickly backed away. “Nope. Closet it is. Great closet.”
Sam chuckled, clearly amused at their reactions, and led them onward. They passed a training hall next , glass walls revealing treadmills, mats, and reinforced sparring gear. Eddie’s eyes lingered there, narrowing slightly. “So this is where the legends stay in shape,” he murmured.
“Yup,” Sam said with a nod. “And before you ask, yes, Cap could run circles around everyone in here. Believe me, I’ve tried keeping up.”
The crew chuckled, but none of them missed the small spark of pride in Sam’s tone when he mentioned Steve.
Soon they were ushered into a glass elevator, smooth and silent as it carried them upward. The view expanded with every floor, giving them glimpses of the New York skyline that stretched endlessly beyond. Hen pressed her palm to the glass, whispering, “This doesn’t even feel real.”
“Yeah,” Sam said casually, leaning against the rail. “First time I came here, I thought the same thing. Then someone threw a shield through a wall during lunch, and I realized real is relative.”
The firefighters laughed nervously at that, not quite sure if he was joking.
Finally, the elevator doors opened to reveal the common room. Sunlight poured in through floor to ceiling windows, casting a golden glow over sleek sofas, polished tables, and a kitchen that looked like something straight out of a design magazine. The space felt alive, modern, but also lived in a place where history had unfolded a thousand times over.
Sam stepped aside, gesturing with an open hand. “Alright, 118, this is where the magic happens , or at least the coffee. Make yourselves at home. I’ll go grab the rest of the team, and then you’ll get your proper welcome.”
With that, he gave them a reassuring nod before heading toward a side corridor, leaving the firefighters to soak in their surreal surroundings.
As the crew stepped further into the common room, the size and sleekness of the place almost made them forget where they were. The windows stretched floor to ceiling, offering a dizzying view of Manhattan. Off to the side, the kitchen gleamed with polished counters, smart appliances, and a fridge so big it looked like it belonged in a restaurant.
Buck leaned a little closer to Bobby, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.
“I told you, Cap , you gotta see their kitchen.”
Bobby gave him one of those calm, measured looks, the kind that spoke volumes without a word. He didn’t answer right away, just pressed his lips together as if fighting back a smile. “It’s… impressive,” he finally allowed, though the glint in his eyes betrayed amusement at Buck’s priorities.
The firefighters exchanged uneasy glances. The weight of where they were Stark Tower, home to Earth’s Mightiest Heroes suddenly pressed down on them in full.
And then, as if on cue, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from the opposite hallway. A familiar figure emerged first: Steve Rogers, steady and unmistakable in his presence, carrying himself with the quiet authority that needed no announcement. Behind him, Natasha moved with silent grace, every step precise. Thor’s broad silhouette was impossible to miss, and even from this distance the gleam of Mjolnir caught the light.
It was like watching legends walk out of a storybook , except they were real, and walking straight toward them.
The firefighters stood frozen, caught between awe and nerves, until Buck, unable to resist, leaned toward Bobby again and muttered just loud enough for the others to hear:
“Kitchen’s still my favorite part.”
That finally cracked Bobby’s composure. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head as the Avengers closed the distance.
The Avengers slowed as they entered the room fully, their steps echoing faintly across the polished floor. Steve Rogers was the first to speak, his voice calm but carrying a warmth that softened the weight of the moment.
“Welcome to the tower,” he said, his eyes sweeping across the group of firefighters. There was no trace of arrogance, only genuine respect. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Hen straightened instinctively, like a soldier standing at attention, though she quickly reminded herself she wasn’t in the army. Chim, on the other hand, just blinked, realizing he was standing face to face with Captain America. His mouth opened, then closed again, then opened once more before he managed a half-smile.
“Uh… thanks,” Chim finally said, sounding awkward even to himself.
Natasha stepped forward next, her movements fluid, deliberate, but not unfriendly. Her gaze lingered on each of them, sharp but curious, as if she was quietly assessing their strengths and weaknesses. “You made good time,” she remarked. “Not many crews could handle a Quinjet ride that well their first time.”
“Some of us enjoyed it more than others,” Eddie said with a pointed look at Chim, who was still trying to decide whether he should ask for an autograph or play it cool.
Thor’s booming voice broke the tension entirely. “Ah! So these are the brave warriors of flame!” His grin was wide, unrestrained, and the way he clapped his hands together made the marble floor tremble faintly. “It is an honor to meet mortals who run toward fire instead of fleeing from it. You remind me of the fiercest shieldmaidens and soldiers of Asgard!”
Buck chuckled, nudging Bobby. “See? I told you they’d like us.”
Bobby didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were on Steve the steady way he stood, the quiet dignity in his expression. There was something in the Captain’s posture that mirrored his own when he was with his crew: responsibility, weight, but also pride. Bobby finally nodded once, firm and respectful. “It’s good to meet you, Captain.”
Steve returned the nod with equal gravity. “The honor’s mine.”
For a beat, the room felt suspended , two teams standing across from each other, both carrying reputations of saving lives, just in very different arenas. And yet, the longer they stood there, the clearer it became that the gap between them wasn’t as wide as it looked.
Natasha tilted her head slightly, studying Buck. “You’re the one who keeps talking about our kitchen, aren’t you?”
Buck froze mid-smile, caught completely off guard. His face turned a shade of red that would’ve matched Tony’s old suit. “Wait,what? How did you?”
“J.A.R.V.I.S. tells me everything,” Natasha replied coolly, a hint of amusement tugging at her lips.
Chim immediately burst into laughter. Hen covered her face with her hand. Eddie muttered, “Of course he did.”
Even Steve cracked a smile, and Thor laughed so loudly it echoed through the chamber.
The ice was broken.
Notes:
I hope you enjoyed it, so please leave kudos and comments,I live off them.
Chapter 8: There goes our captain
Notes:
Hey there! Here’s the new chapter I really hope you enjoy it, and just a little heads up make sure to check the tags for the next one. And again please leave comments and kudos i live off them
Chapter Text
SEVERAL MONTHS LATER
“So are we having another meeting this Sunday?” Hen asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in her hand, her voice casual but curious. She wanted to know if another trip to New York was on the table so she could plan her schedule.
“Yeah, we’ve got one set up for 1 p.m. at Stark Tower,” Bobby confirmed without looking up, focused on chopping vegetables as he worked on lunch for their shift. A faint sizzle from the pan filled the air. “Is everyone going to show up?” he added, glancing briefly over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” came the lazy but unanimous response from the couch, where Eddie, Buck, and Chimney were shoulder to shoulder, locked in a heated video game battle.
Buck didn’t even glance away from the screen as he shouted, “And this time, nobody’s ditching me when we get there!”
“That was one time,” Eddie muttered, eyes narrowed at the game, his fingers flying over the controller.
Chimney smirked. “Trust me, Buck, if anyone’s ditching you, it’s probably for their kitchen again.”
From the stove, Bobby sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “I should’ve known that was coming.”
The kitchen filled with laughter as the game noises from the living room grew louder, Chimney cheering as his character scored a win while Buck groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch cushions.
“Unbelievable. Total sabotage,” Buck muttered.
“Or maybe you just suck,” Eddie replied flatly, though the twitch of a smile betrayed him.
Hen rolled her eyes fondly, sipping from her mug. “You three are like kids. Good luck surviving an actual meeting with superheroes if you can’t even handle Mario Kart.”
Bobby turned off the stove and started plating the food, his calm presence grounding the room. “Alright, kids, game over. Lunch is ready.”
The smell of warm food pulled everyone toward the table. Controllers were dropped, mugs were set aside, and chairs scraped against the floor as the crew gathered together. For a moment, the station was quiet , just the clinking of silverware and the comforting hum of home.
AT THE SPOT WHERE THEY SHOULD MEET
Almost everyone had been at this meeting spot at least forty times in the past few months, and by now, the routine felt second nature. Still, waiting around came with its own frustrations. The breeze whipped through the plaza, messing up perfectly styled hair. For most of them, it wasn’t a big deal , but for someone like Buck, whose hair was basically sacred, the wind was a personal enemy.
“Guys, has anyone heard from Bobby? He was supposed to be here like… thirty minutes ago,” Chimney asked, his voice edged with worry. “He’s the one who wanted to make sure we were all coming, and now he’s late.”
The group looked at one another.
“I haven’t,” came the chorus of replies after a beat of silence.
“Maybe we should call him,” Buck said quickly, his tone sharper than usual. He hated how wrong this felt. “Just to make sure he’s okay.”
“I’ll do it,” Hen volunteered immediately. Bobby wasn’t just her captain , he was her friend. Her best friend’s husband. If something happened to him, she’d never forgive herself for not checking sooner.
She pulled out her phone, the crew going quiet around her. The ringing filled the air, all of them waiting for the familiar, steady voice of Bobby Nash. Maybe he’d apologize, maybe he’d grumble about traffic, maybe he’d joke about his car breaking down.
But instead, all they heard was the hollow, repetitive beeping of a call that wasn’t being answered.
Hen lowered the phone, her throat tight. “He’s not picking up,” she said softly, though the others already knew. They’d heard the silence just as clearly as she had.
Eddie shifted uncomfortably, frowning. “Maybe try Athena. If anyone knows where he is, it’s her.”
Hen nodded and started dialing again, though her hand trembled slightly this time. The easy, playful mood from earlier was gone. Now, the only thing in the air was dread.
Hen pressed the phone to her ear, pacing a few steps as it rang. The rest of the crew watched her, every second stretching out longer than it should. Finally, the line clicked.
“Athena? Hey, it’s Hen,” she said, trying to sound calm but not quite pulling it off. “Is Bobby with you by any chance? He was supposed to meet us half an hour ago, and… we can’t get ahold of him.”
There was a pause on the other end. Too long of a pause.
“No,” Athena’s voice finally came through, steady but tight. “He left the house this morning. He said he’d meet you all at the tower. Why? What’s going on?”
Hen swallowed hard, exchanging a look with Eddie and Buck. “We’ve been calling. He’s not answering. It just… it doesn’t feel right.”
Athena exhaled sharply, and in that sound, they could hear her switch from worried wife to seasoned officer. “Stay put. Don’t move from where you are. I’m going to find out where he is. If he’s not answering me either, then something’s wrong.”
Buck ran a hand through his already wind-messed hair, his chest tightening. “This isn’t like him,” he muttered. “Bobby wouldn’t just… not show.”
“Exactly,” Eddie said grimly.
Hen hung up, slipping the phone back into her pocket. Her voice was quiet when she told them, “Athena doesn’t know where he is either. She’s going to start looking.”
The group fell silent, the weight of it sinking in. They’d come to New York expecting another strange,but fun Sunday with the Avengers. Instead, they were standing in the middle of the city with the chilling thought that their captain might be in real trouble.
BOBBY
By now, it was almost second nature for him , getting ready for yet another meeting with the Avengers alongside his team. Still, like clockwork, the nervousnes always returned. Every single time. Bobby Nash was a man who thrived on preparation, on structure, on knowing exactly what needed to be done and when. But stepping into the same room as Earth’s Mightiest Heroes was never going to be “just another meeting,” no matter how many of them he had already attended.
This morning, the weight pressed down on him more than usual. He had forced himself awake at dawn, the sky outside still streaked in pale gray, just so he could finish some of the endless paperwork that always seemed to follow these joint operations. Forms, reports, logistical notes , he had flipped through them all with the same steady patience that had carried him through years as captain. Still, the fatigue clung stubbornly to his shoulders, seeping into his bones. His eyes felt heavier than they should, his body slower, but his uniform was impeccable, every button fastened, his shoes shining in the weak morning light.
Fifteen minutes before he even needed to leave, Bobby was already ready. That was who he was ,punctual, reliable, a man his crew could count on. He locked his front door with a quiet click, keys shifting in his palm as he headed for the driveway. The early air was sharp and cool, carrying the faint scent of cut grass and the city just be
ginning to stir awake. His truck stood waiting, its familiar shape a comforting constant in the middle of his restless morning.
He reached for the door, keys sliding between his fingers , and then it happened.
At first, it was only a sensation, so sudden it hardly registered. A sting. Sharp, foreign, biting its way under his skin like fire. His breath caught. For a second, Bobby’s mind scrambled to label it , cramp, dizziness, exhaustion , but no, this was something else. Something invasive. His vision swam, the world tilting on its axis. His eyelids tried to fight the heavy pull closing in, desperate to hold on to the light of day, but his body was betraying him.
The ground rushed up to meet him. The gravel beneath his knees pressed cold and unyielding, his keys slipping from his grip with a metallic clatter that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet morning.
Through the fog closing around his mind, he caught fragments ,the sound of footsteps, deliberate and steady, not rushing but purposeful. A shadow cut across his vision. Then hands , not gentle, but firm, practiced , slid under his arms, hauling him upward with ease. His head lolled, his surroundings already slipping away into blackness, but he registered enough to know this wasn’t help. This wasn’t safety.
He was being moved. Taken. Tucked into someplace dark, someplace suffocating.
And just before consciousness left him fully, his last thought wasn’t of himself, but of his crew ,waiting, unaware, expecting him to walk in with that same calm authority he always carried.
Then, nothing.
METTING SPOT
“Guys, it’s been enough time. We have to tell them,” Buck said finally, his voice breaking through the tense silence that had fallen over the group. His hands were clenched at his sides, restless, desperate for something to do. The 118 crew had been standing there for fifteen minutes already, pretending everything was fine while their captain was nowhere to be seen. The Avengers were waiting too, their presence like a constant weight pressing down on the firefighters, but Bobby’s absence gnawed at Buck more than anything else.
“They’ve been here with us for fifteen minutes, waiting, and we don’t have a single word about Cap,” Buck continued, his tone sharper now, rising with anger and guilt that burned under his skin. He couldn’t shake the thought that maybe,just maybe,he could’ve prevented this. If he had checked in with Bobby earlier. If he had offered to drive him. If he had noticed something off. His mind ran in circles, but all he could cling to was hope,that Bobby was simply stuck in traffic, or helping some stranger on the side of the road, not lying somewhere hurt and alone.
“We can’t tell them,” Ravi blurted out, his words quick and edged with panic. His eyes darted nervously between Buck and the Avengers. “They won’t trust us anymore. And we don’t even know what’s going on. What if it just… worsens the situation?” He wasn’t used to this. Ravi had handled emergencies, disasters, burning buildings, but standing shoulder to shoulder with superheroes while their captain vanished without explanation was a different kind of pressure.
“I don’t care. I’m telling them.” Buck’s voice cracked with anger, but underneath it was fear,raw, unfiltered, impossible to hide. His jaw was tight, his chest rising and falling as though his body couldn’t hold still. His captain was out there somewhere, and all Buck could think was that Bobby had trusted him, trusted all of them, and now they were failing him.
“We’ve known them for a few months already,” Buck pressed on, his eyes flashing as he glared at Ravi. “If they wanted to harm us in any way, they would’ve done it by now. They can help us. They will help us.”
He didn’t wait for anyone’s reply. With long, furious strides, Buck stormed off toward the Avengers, his boots pounding against the concrete like gunshots. The rest of the 118 exchanged uncertain looks, but one by one, they fell into step behind him, their worry for Bobby outweighing hesitation. The group moved together, a line of determination and fear, until they reached the open space where some of the Avengers stood near the sleek, looming silhouette of the Quinjet.
“Is your captain coming, or can we go?” Steve’s voice carried the sharp edge of command, his words clipped and impatient. He hated lateness,hated people who made promises they couldn’t keep. To him, punctuality wasn’t just courtesy, it was respect. And right now, Bobby Nash was breaking both.
For a moment, silence stretched between both groups , the weight of it almost suffocating. The firefighters stood behind Buck, their boots pressed into the dirt, their faces lined with worry, while the Avengers regarded them with guarded expressions. The Quinjet loomed in the background, its metallic surface catching the late afternoon light, an intimidating reminder of who they were standing in front of.
Steve’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms, his voice sharp and steady. “Well? Is your captain coming, or are we wasting our time here?”
Buck swallowed hard. His pulse thundered in his ears, but he clenched his fists, grounding himself. He thought of Bobby , the man who had guided them, who had held them steady when everything else in their lives threatened to fall apart. And now… he was gone. Missing. And none of them knew what to do.
“There’s… something you need to know,” Buck said finally, his voice louder this time, though it cracked under the weight of the admission. He looked from Steve to Natasha, then to Sam, searching their unreadable faces for the smallest sign of patience. “Our captain… Bobby… he was supposed to be here. He never misses these meetings. But this time” He paused, forcing down the knot in his throat. “This time, he’s not answering. Not his phone, not anything. We don’t know where he is.”
Behind him, Hen stepped forward, her voice steadier. “We’ve tried calling. No answer. That’s not like him. Not at all.”
Chim shifted uneasily, adding, “He’s been gone longer than he should. And if something happened to him… we can’t just sit around waiting.”
Buck glanced back at his crew, then faced the Avengers again. His eyes burned with frustration and fear, but also a fragile determination. “I know you don’t owe us anything. But you have resources ,tech, satellites, ways of finding people that we don’t. If there’s even a chance that something’s wrong, we need your help. Please. This isn’t just our captain. He’s family. And if he’s in danger…” Buck’s voice trailed off, his jaw tightening, “…then every second we waste standing here could mean the difference between finding him alive or not at all.”
The words hung in the air like smoke after a fire.
For a moment, no one spoke. Steve’s expression softened just slightly, his brows drawing together. Natasha exchanged a quick glance with Sam, quiet understanding flickering between them. Even they could see it the raw urgency in Buck’s face, the way his whole body seemed on edge, ready to break if they turned him away.
Finally, Steve let out a slow breath. “Alright,” he said, his tone less sharp now, though still firm. “If what you’re saying is true… then we don’t waste time.” He took a step forward, looking Buck straight in the eye. “But understand this once we get involved, we do things our way. And if there’s danger, you and your people don’t run into it without us. Clear?”
Buck nodded instantly, relief crashing through him like a wave. “Clear.”
Behind him, the 118 exchanged looks worried, but hopeful. For the first time since Bobby’s disappearance, they felt the tiniest flicker of something they desperately needed: a chance.
Chapter 9: Oh,no
Chapter Text
Bobby’s head felt heavy, as though it was filled with sand. His eyelids twitched, straining to open against the fog of whatever had been pumped into his system. A low groan escaped his throat as awareness dragged him upward from the darkness, every muscle sluggish, his thoughts fractured.
The first thing he noticed was the chair beneath him ,cold, metal, unyielding. His arms were wrenched behind his back, wrists bound tightly with coarse rope that dug into his skin every time he moved. His ankles were lashed to the legs of the chair, leaving him no room to shift, no escape in even the smallest sense.
He expected silence , the dull, empty quiet that might have at least allowed him to focus through the pounding ache in his skull. But instead, the air carried sound. Breathing. Another presence. The second his eyes cracked open, blurred shapes resolved into the outline of another man strapped to a chair opposite him, secured almost the same way. Unlike Bobby, the stranger didn’t look panicked. Calm. Steady. Almost unnervingly collected.
“Hey,” Bobby rasped, the single word scraping his throat like glass, cutting through his weak, heavy body. His voice felt foreign in his own mouth, sluggish and rough. He recognized the sensation , like a brutal hangover. Except this time, he hadn’t broken his promise to Athena. Relief flickered, but only for a heartbeat.
Athena.
Where was she? Was she safe? Had they taken her too? A storm of questions thundered through his mind, colliding with the throbbing in his head. Was she out there, hurt? Or worse , in the same room he was in now?
“Ah, finally,” the other man’s voice broke into his spiral. Smooth, steady. “Looks like they gave you something stronger.”
Bobby’s gaze lifted, slow and wary, and settled on the man in front of him. His first impression was oddly ordinary: neatly groomed goatee, pressed white shirt, black pants , as if he’d been plucked straight out of some important meeting. But then Bobby’s attention snagged on something impossible to ignore: a glow.
A faint but steady blue light pulsed at the center of the man’s chest, exactly where his sternum should be.
Bobby’s breath caught. His mind scrambled. Was it a bomb? Some kind of device they’d strapped to him, to ensure he couldn’t escape without killing himself and anyone nearby? His heart pounded harder, panic clawing its way up his throat.
“Oh, first kidnapping?” the man remarked casually, almost amused. “Yeah, that happens. Thing is, panicking won’t help you. Not me, not you. So if you want a chance at getting out of this mess, I recommend you stop. Now.”
His tone was flat, matter of fact, like he was explaining traffic rules instead of captivity.
Trying to ground himself, Bobby latched onto the only reasonable question his brain could form. “Who are you?” he asked, voice steadying as he forced himself to meet the man’s eyes.
The man’s lips tugged upward faintly, though there was little warmth in it. “Oh, good question. Well, I have a lot of names. But the one most people know me by is…” He hesitated, as though he hated the idea of introductions. “Tony. Or maybe Stark rings a bell.”
The name hit Bobby like a jolt. He swallowed, words fumbling out. “Nice to meet you, Tony, but I’m sorry, I don’t”
But he did. He knew. Everyone knew Stark, even if he’d never been in the same room with the man. At debriefings, when someone asked about the Avengers’ engineer, the answers were always the same: he’s in his lab. Hidden away, brilliant and untouchable.
And now here he was. Bound. Stranded. Human.
“Yeah,” Stark said dryly, watching Bobby’s expression shift. “So you remember. Which means you can skip the whole ‘acting clueless’ bit. Maybe you could return the favor and tell me who you are, because I’m not in the mood to play Sherlock Holmes right now.”
Bobby stiffened at the arrogance, but kept his voice level. “My name’s Bobby. I’m captain of the 118 , firehouse. We… support the Avengers sometimes. Cleanup after missions..”
Tony raised a brow, as if weighing the value of that information, then dismissed it with a shrug.
Silence stretched for a moment. Bobby tried to keep his thoughts still, but his eyes betrayed him, flicking again toward the glowing thing in Stark’s chest. It pulsed softly, casting a faint blue hue on his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” Bobby blurted, the words spilling before he could stop them. “But, what is that? In your chest? Is it..” His voice cracked as the panic rushed back. “Is it a bomb? A dead man’s switch? Just… tell me. Please.”
The desperation was raw in his voice, more pleading than commanding. He hated how vulnerable it sounded, hated exposing it to a man he barely knew. But his mind screamed for answers.
Tony’s eyes softened, just for a moment, then he smirked faintly. “Oh, the blue thingy? No, not a bomb. Relax.” He shifted in his chair as much as his bindings allowed, voice lowering, almost conspiratorial. “It’s called an arc reactor. Miniaturized. And no, it’s not a weapon. It’s the only reason I’m alive. Keeps shrapnel from digging into my very beautiful heart. And trust me, the news would love that headline.”
He chuckled without humor, then cut himself off. His eyes sharpened, the playfulness gone. “And that’s all you need to know about it.”
Bobby exhaled shakily, nodding in acknowledgment, though unease still gnawed at him.
Tony leaned back against the chair, already scanning the room again, his gaze restless. Bobby could see the gears turning behind his eyes, tracking time, searching for weak spots, mapping escape routes.
The silence that followed wasn’t empty , it was heavy, filled with Bobby’s racing thoughts and Stark’s quiet calculation.
For tonight, at least, their conversation was over.
===========
“Guys, it’s been enough time and we don’t know anything about where Bobby is,” Buck said, his voice cracking under the pressure. Nervousness coiled in his chest like a living thing, dark thoughts clawing their way into his already troubled mind. The silence from their captain was unbearable, the kind that made every ticking second feel like a nail being driven into his skull.
“Don’t worry, guys. We will find him,” Steve said firmly, trying to sound like a rock when the room itself felt ready to crumble. His gaze shifted across the firehouse crew , their faces pale, eyes restless, fists clenched with frustration and fear. They weren’t just his allies anymore; they were his friends, men and women who had given their trust to him and the Avengers. He couldn’t let that crack.
Steve leaned closer to Clint, his voice lowering into a tone that allowed no debate. “Go get Stark. We need him immediately.”
The archer didn’t hesitate. The second the words were spoken, Clint pivoted on his heel and bolted down the corridor, his boots pounding against the polished floor with urgent rhythm.
Steve turned back to the fire crew, but the words he’d given them hung limp in the air. “Don’t worry,” he repeated, softer now. But unlike in battle, his reassurance didn’t ignite hope. It only sounded hollow. Their eyes burned with desperation , men and women ready to tear the city apart for their captain, crew who couldn’t be soothed by platitudes.
Left with nothing more to offer, Steve drew in a slow breath and leaned his weight on the kitchen counter behind him. The room was thick with unease, the low hum of machinery in the compound almost mocking in its normalcy. Time stretched, and all he could do was wait.
===
“Stark! Get out here, we need you! Stop playing your games, this is urgent!” Clint’s voice thundered through the corridor as he hammered his fists against the reinforced doors of Tony’s lab. His patience was unraveling with every unanswered knock. “Get out!”
But before his anger could spill further, the AI’s calm, modulated voice cut through.
“Sir is not available at this moment,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied with the same serene tone that only fueled Clint’s irritation. “He has not been seen since he left for his meeting this morning.”
Clint froze, his hand still pressed against the cool metal of the door. “What?” His voice was a growl, sharp with disbelief.
“Records show Mr. Stark has not returned to the premises,” the AI continued.
Clint exhaled through clenched teeth, a bitter laugh escaping. “Typical Stark. Always getting out of responsibilities when we actually need him.” He turned, pacing back down the hallway, each step a thunderclap of anger. “Jarvis,” he snapped over his shoulder, “the second you get his lazy ass on comms, tell him to meet us in the common room. It’s an emergency.”
“Yes, Agent Barton,” the AI responded calmly.
Clint’s boots pounded harder now, frustration leaking into every motion. His bow bounced against his back as his stride quickened, anger boiling over with each thought. “Only if he’d care about something other than himself for once…” he muttered, words spit out like poison.
He didn’t stop to breathe, didn’t stop to think. He just ran.
Clint burst back into the common room, chest heaving, jaw tight with fury. His eyes scanned the room , every anxious face turned toward him the second he entered, hope flickering for an answer.
“Well?” Buck asked immediately, almost jumping to his feet, desperation dripping from his voice.
Clint shook his head, running a hand through his hair, the frustration clear in every movement. “He’s not there.”
A heavy silence fell. The crew looked at him in disbelief, as if the words themselves didn’t make sense.
“What do you mean he’s not there?” Chim demanded, his voice sharp, anger barely restrained.
“I mean,” Clint snapped, his patience shattering, “J.A.R.V.I.S. says he hasn’t even been seen since his so called meeting this morning. He’s just,gone. No messages. No comms. Nothing.”
The firehouse crew erupted in murmurs, voices overlapping with outrage and fear. Hen shook her head in disbelief. “Unbelievable. Bobby is out there, God knows where, and Stark is what? Hiding? Playing genius somewhere?”
Sam slammed his palm against the table so hard the sound echoed. “This is exactly what drives me insane about him! Always too busy, always disappearing when it actually matters.”
Steve’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t intervene not yet. He could feel the raw anger crackling in the air, and he knew it had to be let out.
“Captain’s out there tied up or worse,” Buck said, his voice trembling now with both rage and fear, “and Stark thinks it’s fine to vanish? Does he even care about anyone but himself?” His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms.
“Reckless. Irresponsible. Self centered,” Sam muttered, his words like venom, each syllable dripping with the exhaustion of someone who’d had enough.
Chim turned to Steve, his eyes blazing. “This is who you called for help? This is who’s supposed to be part of saving our captain?”
For a moment, Steve felt the weight of their stares, the accusing silence that demanded an answer. He drew in a deep breath but said nothing. His own frustration with Stark burned in his chest, but right now, he couldn’t afford to let that show.
Clint, still pacing, ran his hands over his face before letting them drop heavily to his sides. “I told J.A.R.V.I.S. to get his ass here the second he shows up. But honestly?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t hold your breath.”
The crew exchanged glances some furious, some defeated, but all carrying the same thought: they couldn’t rely on Stark. Not now. Not when Bobby’s life was on the line.
And with every passing second, the room seemed to grow darker, the absence of both Bobby and Stark pressing down on them like a storm about to break.
The silence stretched too long. Every tick of the clock on the wall felt like a hammer against Buck’s skull. His breathing grew shallow as his chest tightened, the weight of helplessness pressing down. Then suddenly, he snapped.
“No,” Buck muttered, shaking his head, his voice rising with each word. “No more waiting. No more sitting around, hoping Stark strolls in when it’s convenient for him. Bobby’s out there right now, scared, hurt, maybe worse. And every second we sit here, we’re failing him.”
His outburst hit the room like a spark on dry tinder. Eddie stood, nodding fiercely. “He’s right. We can’t depend on someone who doesn’t even bother to show up. We have training, we have instincts. We’re firefighters , we run into danger. That’s who we are.”
Hen’s voice was lower but just as firm, her eyes shining with determination. “If Stark won’t help, then we help each other. Bobby’s our captain. Our family. We don’t leave family behind.”
The words echoed through the room like a vow, grounding them all in the bond they had built through countless fires and rescues.
Clint stopped pacing, glancing between them. “You’re serious. You’re actually thinking about going after him yourselves?”
Buck turned to him, his face pale but set with resolve. “I’m not thinking about it. I’m doing it. With or without Stark, with or without S.H.I.E.L.D., we’re going to find Bobby. That’s final.”
Steve stepped forward then, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the floor. His expression was torn, the soldier in him warring with the leader. He saw the fire in their eyes, the same fire that had carried men into battle and refused to let them retreat.
“You know what you’re asking,” Steve said carefully. “This isn’t a fire to put out. This is… different. Dangerous in ways you haven’t faced.”
Buck squared his shoulders, meeting Steve’s gaze without flinching. His voice shook, but it was unbreakable. “I don’t care. I’d rather die out there looking for him than sit here doing nothing.”
Eddie nodded once, his jaw tight. “We’re with him.”
Hen and Chim didn’t hesitate they stepped forward too, the circle closing, their loyalty unshakable.
Steve let out a long, heavy breath, rubbing a hand across his mouth. He knew the resolve in their eyes. He had seen it too many times before in soldiers, in friends, in people who would never stop fighting for those they loved.
Finally, he gave a small nod. “Then we do this together. But we do it smart. We find leads, we track him, and we bring him home.”
For the first time since Bobby’s disappearance, the firehouse crew straightened their backs. Fear was still there thick in the air but it was tempered now with something stronger: determination.
Buck exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing anchoring him. “We’re coming for you, Bobby,” he whispered under his breath. “Just hold on.”
SOME ROOM SOMEWHERE
Maybe it was the middle of the night, or maybe broad daylight there was no way to know. The room they were in was sealed off from the outside world, no windows, no hints of sunlight or moonlight to ground them in reality. The only measure of time came from Tony, who had been stubbornly counting the minutes in his head. Every tick of his internal clock was both a lifeline and a curse.
He hadn’t allowed himself to rest, not really. His body begged for it, but he couldn’t risk closing his eyes. Sleep meant losing control, letting the darkness creep in with its nightmares and memories he wasn’t ready to face. And maybe,just maybe he was afraid that if he drifted off, something would happen while he was unconscious, something he couldn’t prevent. So instead, he lay awake in the dim silence, listening to Bobby’s shallow breaths beside him.
Unlike Tony, Bobby had surrendered to exhaustion, though it wasn’t peaceful. The rise and fall of his chest was uneven, like each breath was caught halfway between fear and fatigue. It made Tony grit his teeth; part of him envied the man for being able to sleep at all, but another part hated the vulnerability of it.
The hours dragged. Time stretched into something unbearable, and Tony could swear he had already lived three lifetimes in that dark corner. But eventually, the monotony broke. The sound came first a sharp metallic clack, followed by another, and another. A cascade of locks being undone, heavy bolts screeching against steel. It wasn’t one or two mechanisms it was dozens. Enough security to make it clear that whatever was kept behind those doors wasn’t meant to get out.
Tony stiffened, his head snapping toward the entrance. Beside him, Bobby stirred awake, his eyes still clouded with confusion, until fear snapped him fully alert.
The door opened with a slow, deliberate groan, spilling a wedge of harsh white light into the room. And there he was their captor. The so called villain of the week, as Tony had sarcastically dubbed him. But there was nothing cartoonish about the figure in the doorway. His presence filled the room with something cold, heavy, suffocating.
“Oh,” the man drawled, his voice smooth, laced with mockery. “I’d say ‘good morning,’ but why give pleasantries to the infamous Merchant of Death?” His eyes gleamed as they flicked between Tony and Bobby, cruel satisfaction written on every line of his face.
Tony tilted his head, forcing a grin he didn’t feel. Sarcasm had always been his shield, and he wasn’t about to let it slip now.
“Great. Another villain monologue incoming. Let me guess,you want me to build you a shiny new weapon of mass destruction? Or maybe just download a bit of my genius straight into your otherwise tragically empty skull?” He leaned back against the wall as if this were nothing but an inconvenience. “If so, let’s skip it. I’m fresh out of patience and honestly, your type of speech bores me.”
The captor’s smile only widened, chilling in its delight. “Oh, don’t worry, Stark. You’re not here because of your intellect. You and your… friend”,he gestured toward Bobby with a lazy flick of his hand “are here to repay sins. That’s all.”
Tony’s smirk faltered just slightly, but he didn’t let it drop completely. Bobby, on the other hand, went rigid. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, and sweat slicked across his forehead. He hadn’t wanted to think about it,not now, not ever,but the truth hit him harder than any physical blow. The lives he had taken, the fire that had consumed not just buildings but people, haunted him in silence. And now, it had come back for him.
“From this moment,” the captor continued, his tone dripping with cruelty, “you are no longer Tony Stark and Bobby Nash. You are the Merchant of Death… and the Arsonist.” His grin stretched unnaturally wide, a captor savoring the moment of fear in his prey.
Bobby’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to speak, to argue, to scream that he wasn’t that man anymore. But no words came. His throat had closed up, strangled by the weight of the past. For the first time in his life, the unshakable fire captain felt truly hopeless.
Tony’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. For once, sarcasm failed him.
The captor stepped closer, hands behind his back, savoring the silence of his prisoners. “Let me explain,” he said softly, almost tenderly, like a teacher guiding students. “This little department you’ve stumbled into,Hydra’s masterpiece will be your new home. Your new trial. And maybe, if I’m feeling generous, your grave.”
The words echoed in the room, thick with finality. Tony and Bobby exchanged a fleeting glance, but neither dared to speak. The only thing left for them was to listen, as their captor began laying out his sadistic plan in painstaking detail,painting a future neither of them could accept, yet couldn’t stop.
Notes:
oh things are going to be worse, but how much worse????
Sophia (Guest) on Chapter 1 Tue 08 Jul 2025 10:13PM UTC
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