[SHIELD MOBILE UNIT – DUBLIN DOCKS, 04:57 AM]
The unmarked van eased quietly through the early morning mist, pulling into a discreet position between rusted shipping containers along the Dublin docks. Inside, cramped walls flickered faintly from monitors patched into Dublin's CCTV, Stark Industries logos hastily scrubbed, a grudging gift from the days before Tony Stark rage-quit S.H.I.E.L.D. after the Battle of New York.
Agent Kwan adjusted the satellite uplink. "Drone in position. Southside grid sweep starting in twenty minutes."
The central monitor flashed briefly: BERLIN LINK ACTIVE. Maria Hill appeared on-screen, sharp and composed despite the chaos of Berlin's control room visible behind her. This was bigger than just Ireland: Taskmaster's trail had recently run cold in Madrid, Batroc had vanished northbound from Hamburg, and Grey Gargoyle was still wreaking havoc in Lyon. Dublin needed to stay quiet.
"Status update," Hill demanded calmly.
"No definitive facial ID yet," Kwan replied. "He's cautious around cameras. Footage consistent with previous incidents—same tactics, minimal exposure."
Hill's gaze hardened slightly. "How's our social media filtering?"
Agent Park leaned in, clearly frustrated. "#SentinelSpotted is trending across multiple platforms like Twitter and Reddit. Plenty of cosplay noise, but we've narrowed credible sightings to twelve potential matches."
Hill nodded. "And the biometric data?"
Dr. Elias Malhotra shuffled into the frame, rumpled lab coat still bearing evidence of his flight from Berlin. "I've analysed all available Dublin footage—Nassau incident, Trinity sightings, the recent van encounter near Camden. His physical metrics remain concerningly close to Rogers' early serum baselines."
Hill's eyes narrowed. "Clarify."
Malhotra tapped his tablet, bringing up side-by-side comparisons of Sentinel in action and archival footage from Captain America's wartime operations—footage S.H.I.E.L.D. had only recently declassified internally. "He's rougher around the edges, clearly self-taught. But his strength, reflexes, and especially lower-body power output consistently fall within a 5% margin of early Rogers benchmarks. We've logged sustained force generation upwards of 3,800 newtons in close-range kicks. No energy signatures, no tech indicators."
Hill paused briefly, weighing implications. "Mutant?"
"Possible," Malhotra conceded. "But we have no genetic markers on file, no record of enhancement programs in Ireland. He's completely off-grid."
Hill sighed quietly, the sound lost amidst distant chatter from Berlin's operations room. "Stay passive. Maintain discreet surveillance. Keep me informed of any behavioural patterns."
As the feed cut out, Park muttered quietly, "I'd take Sentinel's small-time vigilantism over chasing Batroc through Stockholm any day."
Kwan smirked dryly. "Careful what you wish for."
[TRINITY COLLEGE – 12:38 PM]
Lunch was microwaved curry and mild regret.
Darren slumped onto the stone bench, pulling out a sandwich assembled with a distinct lack of effort. Liam sat across, dramatically unwrapping his wrap while launching immediately into anime discourse.
"All I'm sayin'," Liam insisted between bites, "is Naruto is peak ADHD representation. The lad never stops yelling and climbs everything in sight."
Darren snorted, managing a bite of his disaster sandwich. "Mate, that's not symbolism. That's literally me unmedicated on Red Bull at 2 AM."
"Representation," Liam grinned. "It matters."
Darren laughed, nearly inhaling a spinach leaf. "Anyway, Tower of God still looks drawn in MS Paint until episode fifty. Give it up."
Liam gasped theatrically. "Blasphemy."
Their banter was suddenly interrupted by footsteps. Darren looked up and immediately short-circuited.
Brown curls, glasses, big folklore energy. The girl from Celtic Mythology class.
"You're Darren, right?" she asked with easy confidence.
Brain: System error. Please reboot.
He blinked, scrambling mentally. "Uh. Yeah, yes, hi. Definitely Darren."
She smiled warmly. "Liked what you said about the blood-geasa yesterday. Good take."
"Oh, thanks," Darren said, relieved that his mouth was at least semi-operational. "Doomed warrior trauma's kind of my jam."
She laughed softly. "I'm Áine, by the way."
He stared a second too long. "Right, hi, Áine. I, yeah, you already know who I am."
"Yeah," she teased gently. "See you around?"
"Absolutely," he managed.
As Áine walked off, Darren whispered helplessly, "Help."
Liam's grin was positively feral. "Mate, your brain made the Windows XP shutdown noise."
"I panicked," Darren groaned. "She likes folklore and has pretty hair. My brain just… evacuated."
Liam handed him a crisp. "Snack-based recovery?"
"This helps."
[SHIELD TEMPORARY OPS UNIT – TRINITY AREA, 2:14 PM]
Across from Trinity College, in a rented office overlooking the cobbled street, the SHIELD surveillance team continued their quiet, methodical observation. Monitors hummed, displaying grainy CCTV feeds. Stark software patched into local Dublin cameras, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s pre-Avengers privileges.
Agent Park stared at the screen in frustration. "Facial recognition's useless. He's consciously avoiding cameras. Posture changes, hood up."
Agent Kwan leaned in, thoughtful. "Cross-reference university schedules. He fits a student profile. If he is a student, we'll spot a pattern soon."
Park nodded, flipping rapidly through potential matches, each dismissed after careful scrutiny. "Too short, wrong walk, cosplay. This one matches body type but he's in Cork. Unlikely."
Then a freeze-frame: Trinity gates, timestamped 09:11 AM. Rainy morning, students rushing by. A hooded figure moved through the archway, slouched, quick pace, bag low-slung, exactly the posture from the Nassau footage.
"Subject 4-1B," Kwan said quietly. "Ninety-one percent match. No face yet, but movement profile aligns closely."
Dr. Malhotra, preparing his containment gear in the corner, glanced up. "If this is our guy, and he's Rogers-level, we'll need more than cameras eventually."
Park exhaled, rubbing her temples. "Hopefully not soon."
Kwan's eyes lingered on the blurred student, heading casually into morning classes like any other nineteen-year-old in Dublin. "Hill wants quiet for now. No engagement. We observe, find patterns, see if he slips up."
Park shook her head slowly. "And if he doesn't?"
Malhotra answered grimly, still carefully checking containment cuffs. "Then we'll need a plan that doesn't involve polite conversation."
[BOOKS & OTHER MIRACLES – 5:47 PM]
Darren shelved books mechanically, brain still replaying Áine's smile and SHIELD still a distant worry lurking in his subconscious. Around him, the shop's gentle chaos was grounding, exactly the kind he needed after yet another exhausting day at Trinity.
Norah glanced up from her worn Agatha Christie. "You've been spacing all shift, trouble. Either you're lovesick or concussed. Which?"
"Both," Darren admitted, alphabetizing the fantasy shelf for the third time. "But mostly lovesick."
Norah nodded sagely. "Common affliction. Usually fatal."
He smiled faintly, comforted by her casual bluntness. Behind him, the shop's small TV murmured quietly, RTÉ news buzzing about Sentinel's latest escapade, another blurry photo, another sighting.
Norah sniffed. "Ireland finally gets its own superhero, and the lad's basically a cryptid."
Darren's hands tightened slightly on a Terry Pratchett novel. "Yeah, wild stuff."
His phone buzzed softly.
Liam [5:49 PM]Remember to breathe when pretty folklore girls talk to you. Oxygen helps.
Darren grinned, tension loosening slightly. "Dickhead," he muttered affectionately.
"You say something?" Norah asked mildly.
"Nah," Darren replied, sliding the last book onto the shelf. "Just talking to the books again."
"Well," she deadpanned, flipping another page. "As long as they're not answering back."
He chuckled quietly, glancing outside at Dublin's darkening streets, unaware of the SHIELD surveillance quietly tightening its net, or how much longer his cryptid anonymity would hold.
At least for tonight, in the bookstore's warm lamplight, he was just Darren.