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HP: Bloodraven Chapter 243 - Unexpected Guest from the Stars (VI)
🕑 Added 2025-09-20 19:52:50 +0000 UTCThe world returned in fragments. A low hum pressed against their ears, droning steadily, while blurred shapes drifted in and out of focus. The stale tang of recycled air filled their lungs, the vibration beneath their seats thrummed faintly through their bones. Slowly, vision sharpened—and with it came the rush of memories, the storm, the lightning, and… the monster.
Nick Fury’s eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, he lay there, dazed. Beside him, Danvers stirred as well, a soft groan escaping her as her head turned and her eyes blinked open. At first, her vision swam, but clarity soon returned—revealing not the nightmarish void still vivid at the back of her mind, but the familiar cockpit walls enclosing them.
Her chest rose and fell sharply as she pieced it all together: the image of colossal wings blotting out the sky. Not even on the harshest planets she had ever set foot on had she encountered, or felt, something that made her seem so utterly insignificant.
“Oh… that didn’t take long.”
A teasing voice, male, suddenly drifted through the cabin, reaching their eardrums. Lazy, almost amused, it made Fury and Danvers freeze for the briefest of seconds—too caught off guard to register at first—until muscle memory kicked in and their instincts took over.
Both were seasoned soldiers in their own right, and they didn’t need time to think in a moment like this, so almost in sync, they sprang from their seats, bodies whipping around toward the source of the sound.
Click…
Hummm…
One hand cocked a gun, and the other… just a hand, but it glowed with raw energy, ready to strike. Their brains were still scrambled, but their reflexes were sharp—and they held back, just one step short of pulling the trigger.
“And who the hell are you two clowns supposed to be?”
Sharp-tongued as always, Fury squinted at the absurd scene unfolding before him.
Is that… a motherfucking sofa? Or did I miss it when we rushed in to take off?
Because yes, there was indeed a chair—a full-on sofa—parked right in the middle of the cockpit. Sitting on it, he saw a young man dressed like he had just wandered away from a beachside lunch: loose, wrinkled white shirt, white pants, and—he blinked—flip-flops.
Flip-flops!
The man—no, a kid by his standards, from the looks of it—looked completely at ease, one leg casually crossed over the other, stroking Goose like it was a lifelong companion, fingers moving with practiced affection over the cat’s head.
And then there was the girl. Behind the sofa, leaning casually like she owned the place. She didn’t even flinch at the gun pointed her way. Her outfit wasn’t battle armor either, or tactical gear, but a kind of careless, street-casual drip—denim jacket slung loose, black crop top, ripped jeans, sneakers too clean for how relaxed she looked. Her hands were shoved in her pockets, head tilting, eyes wandering the cockpit like a tourist taking in the sights.
“My apologies, agent,” the young man said, smiling like he had all the time in the world. “You see, my fiancé and I were casually taking a stroll through the skies atop my little pet this fine afternoon, when she—my pet,” he shrugged, “suddenly started acting… weird. Although, in her defense, she only does that when another alpha creature’s nearby. Right, honey?” He tilted his head lazily at Isabella, now standing beside him, that grin never leaving—like he was asking for a mundane yes-or-no.
Isabella had to resist every twitch in her face. Eyes, mouth, hands—she froze them all. Finally, she gave a single, lazy nod, perfectly in sync with his ridiculous calm.
“That’s when we found you,” he continued, turning back to them. “Well… your airplane—or jet… whatever this is. Never thought I’d run into Pierce’s famous assistant, though.” He shrugged again. “Anyway, turns out I was wrong, hence I apologize on behalf of Twinklefeather.” He waved a hand vaguely. “That’s my pet bird’s name. It was only a cat she got all agitated about. Oh, and don’t worry—I reverse-summoned that unruly girl back to its lair.” He finished with a small smile, eyes closing briefly before opening again, like he had just finished explaining the weather.
Fury: …
Danvers: …
A long, inexplicable silence hung in the cabin as Fury and Danvers tried to process what they had just heard.
“What do you mean—” Danvers was the first to react, wanting to ask what in the world he was talking about, but Fury beside her seemed to have reached the end of his patience, raising his gun even higher.
“MOTHERFUCKER! You have one last chance to rephrase that bullshit into English, or I’m pulling the trigger!”
“What a rude uncle,” Isabella interjected, sounding unhappy. “Honey, I thought you said you knew this strange man, so why is he—”
“Wait a minute… that’s right. How the hell do you know I’m an agent? And Pierce… how the hell do you know him? You military or—” He suddenly froze mid-sentence, because the more he kept talking and looking at Maverick, the clearer things became in his head—memories, classified details—until finally, he registered the face.
He couldn’t help but swallow hard, realizing exactly who was standing in front of him, before Danvers snapped him out of his shock. “Fury, are you okay?”
“You are… High… Councilor… Caesar?” he stammered.
Maverick’s smile widened, and Fury took that as a yes, immediately lowering his gun. And Danvers, noticing the sudden change in Fury’s expression—the spark of recognition—also relaxed her guard, realizing that these two young weirdos might actually be acquaintances. At this point, the only person she trusted was Fury—and whoever Fury vouched for, she’d trust as well.
“Good… now that we have that cleared out—”
“Wait!” Fury interrupted again, his hand twitching, unsure whether to raise the gun or not, as more doubts arose. More accurately, he finally remembered those ridiculous, absurd explanations he had received earlier about why these two were here in the first place.
Mustering all his strength and managing to remain calm, he asked, “Mr… High Councilor… why, and how are you even here… what really happened to us earlier, before we—”
“Got swallowed by your pet!” Danvers finished for him, looking at maverick.
“Have I not explained?” Maverick said tilting his head. “It was all a misunderstanding caused by Twinklefeather,”
“Misunderstanding? Twinkle…feather?” Fury tried his best to process it, while Danvers beside him looked thoughtful, then nodded, as if she had somehow grasped the gist of what had happened.
“So, that was your pet? That monster?” she asked.
“Absolutely.” Maverick nodded three times, his head bobbing. “And it’s not a monster. Just a slightly larger raven than most.”
“‘Slightly’?” The corner of the space soldier’s eyes twitched. “And you named it… Twinklefeather?”
“Cute, right? Isabella helped me select it, right, honey?” He raised his head toward her, and Isabella almost rolled her eyes all the way to the back of her skull.
“Her feathers are pretty…”
“That makes absolutely no sense!” Fury argued, raising his voice again before softening and adding, “Respectfully, Mr. High Councilor.”
“Basically, my pet wanted to eat your plane thinking it was an enemy. I stopped it at the last minute… You’re welcome, by the way. But when I got onboard, I found you two unconscious.” He shook his head, tsking. “Not looking very good on your resume, Agent.”
Fury held back the urge to curse and took a breath. This kid was definitely messing with him, he was sure of it, but then he saw Danvers suddenly turn and check the controls, and he followed her gaze as well to see what was going on.
“What happened?”
“I just remembered... none of us are piloting the plane, but… it seems it’s already running on autopilot.”
“Oh… I took the liberty of putting the plane on auto since, well, you both were out cold,” Maverick said, making the two turn back to him. He shrugged after finishing. “You’re welcome, again.”
“How did you get inside?” Fury asked, ignoring the jab and this time more calmly. Things were starting to fall into place about their current situation, at least somewhat.
Maverick tilted his head as if he had been asked the stupidest question. “You do know that I’m a mage, right? Or hasn’t Pierce given you clearance to know about us?”
“Of course I know you’re a mage… but that doesn’t explain—”
But before he could finish what he was about to say, Maverick had suddenly made a snap of his fingers, a mischievous smile on his face. Then, in Danvers’ bewildered eyes, she saw Fury’s body suddenly shrink and transform into a… chicken. It wasn’t even gradual—almost instantaneous—leaving her no time to even react.
“Buk buk?”
“BUK BUK BUK?”
“BUK BUK BUK BUK!”
The chicken bukked, sounding confused at first, then flapped its wings as if in fright, bukking even louder. Maverick was pretty sure the last bit was the guy’s signature curses at him.
“Hay! What did you do to him?!”
Danvers came out of her shock and pointed at Maverick, looking back and forth from the chicken to him.
“Don’t worry…” Maverick waved his hand, then snapped his fingers again, and Fury returned to his original self. “He asked a stupid question, that’s all.”
“YOU MOTHER… FUC—”
If looks could kill, Maverick would be dead multiple times over now, seeing Fury’s bloodshot eyes.
He cut him off as well, waving his hand and saying, “Again, Fury, I am a mage. So don’t go asking stupid questions like how you entered here to a wizard. Understand?”
“Son of…” huff, huff. In all his life, Nick Fury could swear this was the most pissed he had ever been.
“Fine! Never mind then…” he said, swallowing the boiling anger and humiliation about to erupt from his gut. “Then, High Councilor—”
“Just address me as Mr. Caesar, Fury.”
“Then Mr. Caesar. This is a highly classified SHIELD operation. Even if you are a High Councilor of the World Security Council, you cannot just interrupt our missions. I must ask you to leave...”
Maverick raised a brow, lips curling into a smile. “Really now?” Saying that, he got up from his seat, stepped closer, and pulled a phone from his pocket, grinning at Fury. “Shall I call Director Pierce and ask permission? Hmm… you’re right, protocol is protocol.”
Then, ever so slowly, he pretended to dial some numbers, fully aware that Fury would stop him.
“Wait!”
“What is it, Agent?” Maverick asked, looking confused but inwardly amused. He knew why—Fury wasn’t exactly playing by the rules either, having raided a classified military base and escaped his own agency just an hour ago.
“Don’t,” Fury said, coughing awkwardly and raising his hand to his mouth. “Of course you’re welcome to stay. But we’re not heading to do anything relevant. Only to speak to someone in Pennsylvania.”
“Oh… Pennsylvania?” Playing clueless, Maverick stroked his chin and glanced over at Isabella. “Honey, have you ever been to Pennsylvania?”
Isabella also played along, took a thoughtful expression, then shook her head.
“Great then. We’ve never been to that area, so we might as well follow. Actually, Agent Fury, we were just strolling over the sky, flying aimlessly, before we ran into your plane. A bit bored, to be honest, so this sounds perfect for us…” He clapped his fist against his palm. “Oh, and don’t worry. Just treat us as invisible when you’re there. I’ll cast some magic over me and my fiancé so that only the two of you—and nobody else—can see us. And I promise on Merlin, we’ll keep whatever we see buried.”
Fury had a million comebacks bouncing around his head he wanted to retort—it all sounded absurd and wrong in so many ways, breaking so many agency regulations than he cared to count—but somehow, for some inexplicable reason, he just sighed and accepted. Then, waving a hand surrenderingly, he walked up to Maverick and held out his hands.
Tilting his head as he looked at the offered hand, Maverick thought the subtle compulsion charm he had carefully crafted on the super spy might have worked a little too well—but then, just as quickly, he realized he was dead wrong
“Goose. I want my cat back...”
“Oh… so this is your pet?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not… we only found him today at the military base, and he just decided—”
Fury coughed abruptly, cutting her off. He didn’t want Maverick—a World Security Council High Councilor—to know he had just raided a military base without authorization.
“What she means is… even though we only just found him, he’s taken a liking to me. I doubt a wizard of your stature would want to separate a man from his cat, right?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Maverick said, righteously shaking his head, then handed the cat over. “There you go, Agent.”
Without another word, Fury took the cat, turned, and walked to the co-pilot seat.
“Danvers… how long until we reach our destination?” he asked.
At his question, she glanced over the controls briefly and said, “Half an hour more.”
Back to Maverick once again, curiosity shone in her eyes. Things had settled, they were back on track, and with half an hour to go, she wanted to know more about this mysterious magic couple. After all, it was her first time seeing Earthlings with special abilities.
“So… you’re a mage? Are you the ones Fury mentioned—the reason this planet doesn’t fear outside species invading?”
“Danvers!” Fury turned again with a sigh. He’d thought she hadn’t heard him before blacking out earlier—but apparently, he was wrong.
“What?”
“What you’re asking is this planet’s classified information… which—”
“Wait. Are you saying she’s an alien, Fury?” Maverick cut in, feigning shock.
Goddammit. Fury cursed inwardly—too many things were going wrong. If he had a choice, he didn’t want Danvers knowing Earth’s core secrets, and Maverick—High Councilor or not—he didn’t want knowing everything about hers either. And yet, everything was slipping out of his control.
“High Councilor,” he said with a sigh, “we’re not sure she’s an alien. That’s why we’re on our way now—to confirm. But…” He paused, pondering weather to tell or not, then thinking that the topic would come up sooner or later, and remembering he had already agreed to let them tag along, he finally decided to come clean.
“We did come across extraterrestrial life today, Mr Caeser...”
Fury then went on, explaining their situation—everything from the start up to the present. Of course, if he had had a choice, it wouldn’t have gone his way; sharing information simply wasn’t in his character. But today, he was dealing with an archmage—someone with masterful control over a very specific kind of magic for situations like this.
The compulsion charm, as the name implies, was a spell designed to subtly force a target to act in a specific way. Not as blunt as the Imperius Curse, of course, which outright compels the target to obey the caster’s bidding. The compulsion charm had its limitations, and one of its prerequisites was that the target’s own thoughts had to somewhat align with what the caster intended.
In this case, because Maverick was a World Security Council High Councilor with legitimate access to SHIELD’s high-level clearances, Fury wasn’t entirely opposed to including him in the mission or sharing certain details.
For his part, Maverick had nudged the magic very carefully, guiding certain outcomes his way—and it was thanks to this subtle influence that Fury hadn’t questioned much. Of course, he was careful not to overdo it, so that even in the future, if Fury looked back, he would believe the decisions had been his own. Well, probably.
Naturally, not just anyone could have pulled this off. It required at least advanced level proficiency of the spell and precise control of magical energy to weave it as flawlessly as Maverick did.
Time passed slowly amid their discussion, with Danvers also satisfying her curiosity by asking a few questions of her own. Before long, half an hour had slipped by as the jet cruised nonstop, and they finally reached their destination: Pennsylvania, specifically the residence of Maria Rambeau, a former Air Force colleague of Danvers. Carol herself hadn’t yet recalled this detail, but the reason for her coming here was precisely that.
Comments
QuantumServer
Thanks for the chapter
