With a resounding crack, Arthur and Vers materialized in the dusty expanse of the Mojave Desert. The barren landscape stretched around them, empty save for a lone establishment in the distance—Pancho's Bar, its neon sign flickering weakly against the harsh sunlight.
Arthur had cast a Disillusionment Charm on both of them before apparating. After confirming no one was around to witness their sudden appearance, he waved his hand to remove the charm, making them visible once more.
Vers doubled over, hands on her knees, taking deep breaths as her body adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation of magical transportation.
"What the hell was that?" she gasped, looking distinctly green around the edges.
"Apparition," Arthur replied casually, as though they'd merely stepped off a bus. "Magical teleportation. Quite handy for avoiding traffic, innit? Gets you where you need to go in a jiffy."
"You should have warned me," Vers growled, straightening up slowly. "I've flown spaceships and gone through space jumps, but that was..." she shuddered, "something else entirely."
Arthur's lips curled into that irritating smile she was beginning to recognize. "Where would have been the fun in that? Your face was absolutely priceless. Worth the trip alone, I'd say."
Vers shot him a withering look. "Is everything a joke to you?"
"Not everything," Arthur replied, his expression shifting to something more serious for a moment. "But life's too short not to enjoy the little moments of discomfort... in others, preferably. Bit of a character flaw, I suppose."
"You're insufferable," Vers muttered, turning her attention to the bar. Its weathered exterior spoke of decades under the desert sun, the parking lot half-filled with dust-covered vehicles and motorcycles.
"That's it?" she asked skeptically. "Doesn't look like much."
"Places rarely do," Arthur replied. "But appearances can be bloody deceiving. Rather like yourself, I'd wager."
Vers paused, studying him with narrowed eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Arthur shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief and something deeper. "I feel that you're proper strong. Way beyond my league, if I'm honest. Something's limiting your power, and when that limiter's gone, most people in this universe won't stand a chance against you, much less the current me."
Vers's hand unconsciously went to the Kree implant on her neck but stopped. Why should she believe the words of someone she had met only a few hours ago? Removing the implant wasn't safe—her commanders had made that abundantly clear.
"You don't know what you're talking about," she said curtly, turning and striding purposefully towards the bar entrance, deliberately ignoring the thoughtful, slightly challenging smile playing on 'Merlin's' face.
Arthur followed, amused. He'd planted the seed. Let her work it out. Now he was more eager to confront a certain SHIELD agent who should have tracked them here.
Inside, the establishment was exactly what one would expect from a remote desert watering hole—worn wooden tables, the smell of stale beer, and a collection of patrons who looked like they'd been perched on the same barstools for decades. Faded photographs and memorabilia adorned the walls, each telling its own story of the bar's history.
Vers paused as she entered, her gaze drawn to the wall of photographs. A strange sensation washed over her—not quite recognition, but something close to it. Fragments of memories, like shadows just beyond her reach.
"Oh, new memories surfacing, are they?" Arthur remarked, watching her reaction with interest. "Rather proves I'm right, doesn't it?"
But Vers, lost in her thoughts, ignored him and moved closer to the photographs, particularly one showing a fighter jet.
"What can I get ya?" the bartender asked gruffly from behind the counter.
"Where was this photograph taken?" she asked, ignoring his question and pointing at the photo of the jet.
"An airport," he replied dismissively, already turning away to serve another customer.
"Where's Pegasus?" Vers pressed, the name feeling significant though she couldn't articulate why.
A familiar voice answered from behind her. "That's classified."
Vers turned to find Nick Fury seated at a small table in the corner, watching her with undisguised interest. "Not unlike the file I started on you," he continued, gesturing for her to join him.
As she slid into the seat opposite him, Fury gave her new attire an appraising look. "But I see you've changed it up a bit since then. Grunge is a good look for you." His gaze shifted to Arthur. "Who's your friend? Didn't think you were the type to pick up strays. Another off-worlder?"
Arthur stepped forward before Vers could respond. "Pure earthling, mate. Just playing tour guide for our confused alien visitor here. Showing her the local hotspots. Been a right adventure so far."
Fury's eyebrow raised slightly at Arthur's accent. "Right. 'Tour guide'. I'll get to you later. Got more pressing matters at the moment."
"Did you have a rough day, Agent Fury?" Vers asked, noting his disheveled appearance.
Fury shrugged nonchalantly. "It was cool, you know? Had a space invasion, big car chase. Got to watch an alien autopsy. Typical nine-to-five."
Vers leaned forward, suddenly alert. "So you saw one?"
"I was never one to believe in aliens," Fury admitted, his expression sobering, "but I can't unsee that."
"This is gonna get a little awkward," Vers said, studying him intently, "but I gotta ask."
"You think I'm one of those green things," Fury replied, not a question but a statement.
"Can't be too careful."
Fury gestured to himself. "You are looking at 100% red-blooded Earth man."
"I'm afraid I'm gonna need proof," Vers insisted.
"We talking cheek swab or urine sample?" Fury asked dryly.
"No. The DNA would match."
"Want my AOL password?" Fury offered sarcastically.
"Skrulls can only sim recent memories of their host bodies," Vers explained patiently.
"Oh, oh." Fury leaned back, understanding dawning. "You wanna get personal."
They settled more comfortably at the table, Arthur pulling up a chair to observe the impromptu interrogation with evident amusement.
"Where were you born?" she asked abruptly.
"Huntsville, Alabama. But technically, I don't remember that part."
"Name of your first pet?"
"Mr. Snoofers."
"Mr. Snoofers?" Vers repeated skeptically.
"That's what I said."
"Do I pass?"
"Not yet. First job?"
"Soldier. Straight out of high school. Left the ranks a full bird colonel."
"Then?"
"Spy."
"Where?"
"It was the Cold War. We were everywhere." Fury looked almost nostalgic. "Uh, Belfast. Bucharest. Belgrade. Budapest. I like the B's. I can make them rhyme."
"Now?"
"Been riding a desk for the past six years, trying to figure out where our future enemies are coming from." He gave her a pointed look. "Never occurred to me they would be coming from above."
"Name a detail so bizarre a Skrull could never fabricate it," Vers demanded.
Fury considered this for a moment. "If toast is cut diagonally, I can't eat it."
"You didn't need that, did you?" Fury asked with a hint of amusement.
"No. No, I didn't. But I enjoyed it," Vers replied with a small smile.
"Okay. Your turn. Prove you're not a Skrull," Fury said, leaning back in his chair.
Without hesitation, Vers raised her fist, allowing it to glow with photon energy.
Fury remained unimpressed. "And how is that supposed to prove to me you're not a Skrull?"
"That's a photon blast."
"And?"
"A Skrull can't do that."
Arthur chuckled softly. When both turned their attention towards him, he cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Mind if I ask a few questions? Always wanted to know more about the secret spy world. The films make it all so bloody mysterious."
Fury gave him a flat look. "Negative, 'tour guide'. My job right now is assisting our… guest here. Being a gracious host and all."
"Oh, come on," Arthur pressed. "Just tell me what this Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division is? Quite the mouthful. Never heard of it myself. Have heard of the CIA, FBI and even MI6 back home, but never this new agency. Are you proper legit or is it some made-up department with a fancy acronym?"
"Classified," Fury stated firmly. "But speaking of questions, I have a few for you. How did you make friends with our alien companion?"
Arthur's smile widened. "Classified. Two can play at that game, Agent Fury. Bit rubbish when the tables are turned, isn't it?"
Fury studied him for a long moment. The smug expression on Arthur's face told him all he needed to know—this was someone who enjoyed being difficult, and he wouldn't get any straight answers from him now. Still, he made a mental note to have the agency run a background check later. No need to waste time engaging with him here.
Fury turned back to Vers. "So, what's our next move? Still looking for this Lawson woman?"
"Yes," Vers confirmed, refocusing on her mission. "She's connected to something called Project Pegasus. Do you know where that is?"
Fury hesitated, then nodded. "It's a military facility. I can take you there."
"Are you coming?" Vers asked Arthur, who seemed lost in thought.
"Can I come?" Arthur asked, his expression suddenly innocent. "Promise I'll be on my best behavior and all that."
Fury thought for a moment and, surprisingly, nodded. "Fine. But any funny business and you're out." In truth, he was curious about this strange Brit and wanted to keep him where he could watch him.
As they rose to leave, Arthur suppressed a satisfied smile. He wondered how much SHIELD knew about the wizarding world. The current Fury was not as experienced and mysterious as the director he would become in the future, so this was the perfect opportunity to extract some much-needed information.
This trip was going to be bloody exciting.