Guldrin’s Gluttony: Family Bound by Speed & Food

As the dust settled in the underground room and the tension began to ease, the group made their way back upstairs, their movements a mix of caution and fatigue. 

Alisa, always quick to reclaim the spotlight, sauntered over to the counter and sat herself on it, her legs swinging lazily as she crossed her arms. Her smug satisfaction practically radiated from her, and she wasted no time launching into a grandiose lecture about Shiro's newfound powers.

Shiro rolled her eyes but listened with a mix of amusement and mild irritation. Alisa's voice was filled with exaggerated triumph as she detailed every aspect of her abilities as if they were hers, reveling in the dramatic flair only she could muster. 

Guldrin barely paid attention, already absorbed in monitoring his surveillance system which had pinged a few seconds ago, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

Then, a sharp clang of open and closed doors reverberated through the room. The heavy tread of boots followed the unmistakable metallic echo of something heavy impacting outside. A chill crept into the air, and everyone in the room tensed.

"Warning," the Not-AI intoned with eerie calm. "Proximity breached, Multiple low threats have been detected. Activate defenses?"

Guldrin's eyes narrowed as he frowned, and without hesitation, he swiped a hand across the holographic interface of the café-garage's command center. The air shimmered as a full 3D display bloomed in front of him, showing a live feed of the exterior. 

'Man, I love this tech I stole from Stark,'

The camera feed zoomed in with precision, revealing a tactical team moving into position. Each agent was clad in sleek black combat gear, adorned with minimal insignias save for the distinctive circular logo of S.H.I.E.L.D. emblazoned on their shoulders. Some held sleek rifles, while others carried advanced scanners and tech that gleamed ominously.

"Government spooks," Guldrin muttered under his breath, his irritation barely concealed.

There were ten of them in total.

The one that looked most like the leader, other than the figure wearing a full-face helmet, was identified by the facial recognition overlay as Agent Cole Richter, had sharp, angular features, and a steely gaze that scanned the area with practiced precision. His file popped up alongside his image: Specialist, hand-to-hand combat, firearms expert, history of successful covert ops in high-risk zones. Known for a no-nonsense approach and tendency to follow orders to the letter.

Flanking him were two operatives, a man and a woman, both younger and less hardened by experience. Their names blinked into view: Agent Ryan Flores, a tech specialist with a penchant for drones, and Agent Emily Zhao, a demolitions expert. They moved with careful precision, each step calculated, their demeanor betraying a mixture of purpose and professionalism.

Behind them, a team of six additional agents fanned out, weapons held ready but not yet raised. The surveillance system analyzed their stances and body language, calculating a high likelihood of non-lethal engagement, at least initially. A closer look at their expressions revealed varying degrees of discomfort, as if they weren't entirely sure what they were walking into, save for Agent Cole who was barking orders like a madman while the helmet-clad figure nodded with approval like a trainer.

Guldrin grimaced. "I thought Beckman and I had an agreement," he muttered under his breath, his irritation tempered by a tinge of wariness. The last thing he wanted was a full-scale confrontation with the Government, especially considering the delicate balance of his current clusterfuck of new operations, which Alisa just brought to his door.

Alisa's head snapped toward him, her eyes flashing as a stream of code scrolled across her pupils like a living digital waterfall. "General Diane Beckman," she began, her voice dripping with sardonic amusement, "four-star general, head of the NSA, recently submitted a patent for a 'revolutionary stealth knife.' Cringy, if you ask me. But these guys? They're not NSA." She paused, her lips curling into a wolfish grin. "It's the shadowy side of Uncle Sam's big stick. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. I have had a few unwelcome dealings with them over the years… What did they call me? Ah, Angel Of Destruction."

The tension in the air became palpable the moment the door was forced open, the cheerful bell above it clanging furiously in protest. It was a stark contrast to the scene unfolding as a squad of agents stormed in, their tactical boots thudding heavily against the floor. 

Each one was clad in sleek black tactical gear, bristling with advanced tech that hummed faintly in the room's charged silence. The S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem on their uniforms was unmistakable, a grim reminder of the weight they carried as the hidden arm of global security.

At their head stood the helmet-clad figure as he tore off his face covering, revealing a man in his forties, his grizzled features hardened by years in the field. 

His eyes were sharp, scanning the room with a predator's precision. Despite his no-nonsense demeanor, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze as he took in the trio before him: Alisa, lounging with feigned disinterest; Guldrin, casually scrolling through a holographic interface; and Shiro, her intense eyes watching every movement like a hawk ready to strike.

"Angel of Destruction," the man said in a clipped tone, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. His gaze shifted briefly to Shiro, then back to Alisa. "And associates. S.H.I.E.L.D. has questions for you."

Alisa groaned loudly, dragging her hands down her face in an exaggerated display of exasperation. "Oh, for the love of all things infernal, can we not have one quiet day? What is it with you people? Did someone forget to update your 'mind-your-own-business protocols'? Honestly, barging in here like this, it's quite rude." Her eyes narrowed, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Do I need to remind you why they call me the Angel of Destruction in the first place?"

The lead agent, whose facial recognition overlay labeled him as Commander Marcus Kane, veteran field operative, hand-to-hand combat expert, and a man not easily intimidated, stiffened, his jaw tightening. His expression was unamused, his patience visibly thinning. "This isn't a request. You've triggered worldwide interest, and we need to assess the threat level you pose."

Alisa barked a laugh, the sound sharp and mocking, echoing off the walls of the café. "Threat level? Sweetie, if I wanted to pose a threat, you wouldn't even have time to assess it. You'd just be a memory." Her grin widened, but the glint in her eyes was anything but friendly. "In fact, I could rearrange your entire tactical team into something more abstract and leave this café spotless. Shall we test the theory?"

The agents behind Kane exchanged uneasy glances, their stances shifting slightly. The hum of their advanced weaponry seemed to grow louder as their grips tightened on the triggers, though none dared make the first move. 

The room was a powder keg, and every second ticked by with the promise of detonation.

Kane held his ground, though the faintest bead of sweat betrayed his nerves. "Ms. Alisa," he began, his voice steady but noticeably measured, "we're not here to fight. We're here to ensure the safety of global interests. Your recent activities have raised significant red flags."

"Recent activities," Alisa repeated mockingly, tapping her chin as if in thought. "Let me guess… Was it the energy spike, the portal anomaly, or the 'unidentified destructive force' your little analysts cooked up? Honestly, you spooks need to learn the difference between an emergency and a Tuesday."

Kane's patience was visibly wearing thin. "This isn't a joke. You surfaced after seven years, the Angel Of Destruction, a threat of your proportions is too large to ignore!"

"Oh, I know," Alisa snapped, her tone suddenly sharp and icy. She straightened, her casual demeanor evaporating as her aura shifted. 

The room seemed to darken slightly, the weight of her presence pressing down on everyone like a storm about to break. "What is a joke, however, is you storming into my master's space, uninvited, pointing your fancy toys at my master and mistress, and acting like I owe you an explanation."

Guldrin, still seated behind his holographic display, tilted his head. "Alisa," he said calmly, his tone cutting through the tension like a knife, "maybe dial it back a notch? I don't want to have a firefight take place in the shop, mom and Mia would kill me."

She turned her head slightly, her expression softening for a brief moment as she met his gaze. "I'll handle it, little Master, I apologize," she said, her voice quieter but no less firm.

Turning back to Kane, she took a deliberate step forward, her hands loose at her sides, but every motion radiated restrained power. "Let me make this clear," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You're not touching them. You're not dragging them into your little cloak-and-dagger games. You don't even think about involving Guldrin or Shiro. Am I clear? You know what? Forget you even saw them. Understood?"

Kane hesitated. "Ms. Alisa, we-"

"Am. I. Clear?" she repeated, each word a hammer blow that left no room for negotiation.

The agents behind Kane faltered, their once-confident postures now uncertain. One, a younger operative named Agent Flores, glanced nervously at his superior, his hand twitching near his weapon.

Kane exhaled slowly, his shoulders tightening as he realized the precariousness of the situation. The odds of a peaceful resolution were rapidly diminishing, and while his team was well-trained, there was no guarantee they would survive if this went sideways. 

Who was he kidding? They would be gruesome confetti the second they decided to fight.

"Fine," he said at last, his tone begrudging but firm. "No harm will come to Guldrin or Shiro. They're not involved."

"And?" Alisa prompted, crossing her arms.

Kane's jaw clenched. "And we won't bring them up in any reports to Director Fury. We… Never saw them" He clearly had no intention of honoring that last part, but she didn't need to know that, nor would she care. 

How were Guldrin and Shiro to stay out of the one-eyed pirate's sight when their operations were going to scale exponentially?

Alisa's smirk returned, though the glint in her eyes remained sharp. "Good. Now, as for your questions," she said, her voice dripping with mockery, "I'll entertain them. But let's get one thing straight: you'll tread very carefully. Because if I get even a whiff of betrayal or an inkling that you're using this as a pretext to dig into their lives… Well, let's just say your prototype helicarrier won't be flying for much longer."

Kane gave a curt nod, signaling his team to lower their weapons. The agents visibly relaxed, though the tension in the room remained thick.

"Wise choice," Alisa said with a satisfied grin. She turned to Guldrin and Shiro, "Little master, little mistress, I will be back post-haste."

Then she turned back to the agents, her polite facade with which she interacted with Guldrin and Shiro, long gone. "Let's get this over with, shall we? And for your sake, Commander, I hope you've got decent coffee at whatever secret bunker you're dragging me to. If not, this will be a very short trip."

As Alisa strode to the door, she paused just long enough to glance back at Guldrin and Shiro. Her expression softened, if only slightly, as she addressed them with mock cheer. "Don't wait up, kids. I'll be back before you know it. Try not to blow anything up while I'm gone."

Guldrin and Shiro exchanged uneasy glances but nodded. The day's events had left them shaken, but Alisa either didn't notice or refused to acknowledge it. Instead, she stepped out, shutting the door firmly behind her, and was greeted by the sight of a waiting convoy of black SUVs.

"Wonderful!" Alisa announced with theatrical enthusiasm, clapping her hands. "The grand escort has arrived. You really rolled out the red carpet this time. Lead the way, boys. We mustn't keep Captain Eyepatch waiting."

The lead agent's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, instead motioning for her to enter the vehicle. She slid into the backseat with a fluid grace that belied her reputation as a destroyer of anything that annoyed her. 

Once inside, Alisa sprawled across the seat like a cat making itself comfortable, ignoring the tension radiating from the agents crammed into the vehicle with her.

"You know," she began, smirking at the driver through the rearview mirror, "this whole 'ominous black SUV' aesthetic is getting a little old. Ever thought about switching things up? Maybe some cheerful pastel sedans? Or—ooh!—convertibles with flames painted on the sides?"

The driver's eyes flicked toward her but said nothing. One of the agents in the front seat muttered under his breath, "God, I hate this job. Coulson will have to compensate us for this…"

"Hah, good luck with that, he won't give you anything. This is our job, deal with it." The driver scoffed at his commander's words.

The ride to the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters was predictably joyless, which seemed to suit Alisa just fine. She spent most of the journey alternating between humming an obnoxiously peppy tune and making snide observations about the agents' rigid postures and grim expressions. By the time they arrived, the tension in the SUV was thick enough to cut with a knife.

The facility was a fortress of paranoia, all towering walls, high-tech security systems, and an overabundance of armed guards. Alisa peered out the window and let out an exaggerated snort. "Compensating much?" she muttered as the vehicle pulled to a stop.

"Out," the lead agent barked, his patience visibly wearing thin.

With an overly dramatic sigh, Alisa exited the SUV, taking in her surroundings with a critical eye. "You know, if you're going to build a super-secret spy fortress, at least have the decency to make it aesthetically pleasing. This whole 'cold and utilitarian' vibe is so last century."

"Move," the agent growled, gesturing sharply.

They proceeded through a gauntlet of security checkpoints, each one more invasive than the last. Alisa endured them with exaggerated boredom, yawning loudly and occasionally making sarcastic remarks.

At one checkpoint, an agent hesitated, holding up a black hood. "Protocol dictates we-"

Alisa cut him off with a raised hand and a withering glare. "If you even think about putting that thing over my head, I'll show you just how little use for protocols I have. Besides, I've got X-ray vision, genius. You'd only be humiliating yourself."

The agent paled and backed down, muttering something unintelligible. Alisa smirked triumphantly and sauntered forward, her confidence unshaken. 

She always enjoyed commanding respect from those who think they are above her.

By the time they reached the main conference room, the agents escorting her looked ready to toss her into a containment cell just to get a moment of peace; but they knew no cell they had would hold her, so they had to endure. 

—

–

-

The room itself was stark and intimidating, dominated by a large, polished table and flanked by massive screens displaying incomprehensible streams of data. At the head of the table sat Nick Fury, his single eye fixed on Alisa with a mixture of irritation and wariness.

"Well, well, if it isn't Captain Eyepatch himself," Alisa drawled, sauntering into the room. "You're looking as grim as ever, Fury. How long's it been? Ten years? Fifteen? Kinda hard to remember when I don't age… But man, you sure did… And not like a good wine, either, you look old, you used to be a snot-nosed brat."

"Not long enough," Fury replied curtly, his tone as sharp as a knife. He gestured to the seat across from him. "Sit."

Alisa ignored the chair and leaned casually against the wall instead, crossing her arms. "So, what's this about, Fury, my wannabe pirate friend? I assume you didn't drag me here just to catch up on old times."

Fury's expression didn't change, but his voice carried a hard edge. "You know exactly why you're here. You've been making waves, big ones. That's a problem."

"For who?" Alisa retorted, arching an eyebrow. "You? The World Security Council? Or is this just another one of your little power plays?"

Fury's jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. "This isn't a joke, Alisa. You've been on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar for a long time. Every time you show up, things get messy. I'm here to make sure this time is different."

"Messy?" Alisa scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer to Fury. "You mean effective. If I remember correctly, the last time we crossed paths, it was me cleaning up your mess. Or have you conveniently forgotten the disaster in Jakarta? If it wasn't for Master Jin ordering me, there would have been a killer cyborg roaming the world. Instead, I killed him, dismantled him, and your agency had the gull to claim his parts as important world security matters. How did that end for them? Oh yeah, I gave them my head, and BOOM! No more problems."

Fury's gaze hardened. "That was a long time ago. Things have changed."

"Not you, clearly," Alisa shot back, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Still clinging to that self-righteous superiority complex of yours."

The tension in the room was palpable, the two agents on either side of the room shifting uncomfortably as the two titans verbally sparred. Finally, Fury exhaled sharply and gestured for everyone else to leave the room.

Once the doors clicked shut and the agents were gone, the atmosphere in the room turned sharp enough to cut steel. Fury leaned forward, bracing his hands on the cold metal table, his single eye pinning Alisa like a hawk eyeing prey. His presence radiated authority, as if the weight of every classified secret in the world bore down on his shoulders. 

They kinda did, it was in his job title.

"You've got nerve waltzing in here like you own the place," Fury began, his voice low and measured, yet carrying the force of an old war-hawk. "But let's skip the pleasantries. I want answers."

Alisa raised an elegant eyebrow, settling into her chair with infuriating ease. "Straight to business. How very S.H.I.E.L.D. of you. Remember, you are the one who sent agents to bring me here… But… Fine, captain, what's on your mind?"

"Jin, the undying bastard," Fury's brow twitched and said bluntly. "No one's seen him in years. No sightings, no whispers, not a damn trace. You know something, you were never away from him save for very rare occasions. Spill."

The mention of Jin brought a flicker of something across Alisa's face, regret, maybe, or sorrow, quickly masked by her usual veneer of irreverence. She leaned forward, her fingers drumming lightly on the table. For a moment, she stared at the ceiling, as if searching for the right words among the tiles.

"Jin is gone," she said finally, her voice quieter than Fury had expected. "And I don't mean 'gone underground' or 'taking a sabbatical.' I mean gone. Dead."

Fury's expression didn't change, but the subtle tightening of his jaw betrayed the impact of her words. "Dead? How?"

"Unohana." Alisa's tone turned cold, each syllable carrying the weight of tragedy. "His wife, his anchor to sanity. She did what no one else could, what no one else dared. When his devil side took full control, Jin wasn't Jin anymore. He was a monster, a force of destruction. Unohana made the only choice she could."

Fury's eye narrowed, his voice a razor's edge. "I told him to join us, that we would help him control that beast inside him… But no, he refused, and this is the result… She killed him?"

Alisa nodded, her gaze hardening. "As he was being impaled on her sword after a long fought battle, Ogre saw his chance. That bloodthirsty creature, nothing but an engine of chaos and annihilation, struck in the middle of their battle. He killed Jin while Unohana was still trying to finish the job."

Fury's silence was deafening. He wasn't a man easily shaken, but the weight of her story hung in the air like a storm cloud. Finally, he straightened, folding his arms across his chest. "And the rest of the Goldbloods? What about them?"

"They're gone," Alisa said bitterly. "Every last one of them, except for Guldrin, Rindo, and of course Unohana. Ogre, saw to that. He turned their fight into his own personal slaughterhouse. While the patriarch and matriarch of the Goldbloods clashed, he took his time, picking them off one by one. When the dust settled, there was nothing left of our family but ashes and echoes. I was attacked by Devil Jin, and decommissioned, he saw me as a threat, and nearly destroyed me, I couldn't save them."

The room fell silent, the hum of distant machinery the only sound. Fury studied her, trying to gauge the truth of her words, but Alisa's expression was unreadable, a mask carved from marble.

"So, that's it?" Fury asked, his voice softer now, though no less serious. "A legacy wiped out in one fell swoop?"

"Not entirely," Alisa replied, her eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and determination. "Guldrin and Rindo survived. They're the last embers of what we were, and I'll be damned if I let anyone snuff them out."

Fury leaned forward again, his gaze unrelenting. "You're playing a dangerous game, Alisa. Those kids, especially Guldrin, the male heir, are walking targets. If what you're telling me is true, the last thing they need is to be dragged into your chaos."

Alisa's smirk returned, though it was sharper now, more feral. "You think I don't know that? Do you think I haven't spent every waking moment since that day making sure they stay alive? They're under my protection, Fury. Not yours. Not S.H.I.E.L.D.'s. Mine."

'Well, now that I found them… But he doesn't need to know that.' She thought to herself, vowing to never lose sight of them again.

"That's exactly what I'm worried about," Fury shot back. "You're a walking disaster, Alisa. Trouble follows you like a shadow. And those kids-"

"Those kids," Alisa interrupted, her voice cutting through his like a blade, "are more than you'll ever understand. They're not pawns for you to manipulate or tools for your little espionage games. They have a destiny beyond anything you or your shadowy council could fathom. Remember, you might control the mundane side of the world, but you have no idea how to contest against the supernatural… Even if your plan to secure superpowered people comes to fruition."

Fury's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. Alisa stood, her presence suddenly towering despite her lack of height. She leaned over the table, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

"And let me make one thing crystal clear, Nick. If anyone… anyone, in your organization so much as, looks at them the wrong way, you'll find out firsthand why you designated me the Angel of Destruction. And believe me, no amount of paperwork, red tape, or bureaucratic doublespeak will save you or your precious S.H.I.E.L.D."

For a moment, the two locked eyes, a silent battle of wills crackling like electricity in the air. Fury didn't flinch, but the set of his shoulders shifted slightly, a tacit acknowledgment of the threat she represented.

After what felt like an eternity, he straightened, his face unreadable. "Fine. They're off-limits. But don't think for a second that this means I trust you. We will keep an eye on anything you do."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't. One might think you lost your edge, mister pirate." Alisa replied with a smirk, reclaiming her seat with the ease of someone who had just won a war. "Now, is there anything else, or can I get back to not caring about your opinion?"

Fury stared at her for a long moment, then turned and strode toward the door. He paused just before leaving, glancing back over his shoulder. "You're on thin ice, Alisa. Don't make me regret this."

"Wouldn't dream of it, not like you could stop me if I did something anyways. Well, it's been fun, not really, but who cares? Oh yeah, take care of Gon for me, I know you found him, be careful of his farts and tail, he is dangerous." she replied with mock sweetness, waving him off like an old friend.

The door closed behind her with a heavy thud, leaving Fury alone in the room. For a moment, his gaze faltered, and a shadow passed over his face. He leaned back, exhaling slowly, his eyes distant.

Outside as she was being escorted away, she giggled, "Thin ice," she murmured to herself, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "Story of my life."

(Give me your POWER, Please, and Thank You! Leave reviews and comments, they motivate me to continue.)