{Chapter: 022 - The Centipede Subject And A Dangerous Gift}
While Daisy was deep into investigating the mysterious Centipede Virus, something odd occurred. Despite her exhaustive efforts, she couldn't find detailed data on the core organization responsible. Every digital trail ended in encrypted dead-ends or wiped server banks—clearly the work of a professional shadow group with high-level clearance and powerful connections.
But luck—or fate—offered her a different lead.
During a global CCTV footage sweep using SHIELD's satellite tech, Daisy managed to locate a man involved in a very public act of heroism.
A survivor.
His name was Michael Peterson—a man who, according to scattered reports and hacked surveillance footage, had once demonstrated inhuman strength in a public rescue. Daisy's fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up the footage. The video, grainy and from a decade-old gas station security camera, showed Michael ripping a steel door clean off its hinges to save a trapped family from a burning car.
His identity had been hidden—no facial recognition match, no official record—but a sharp glint of a glowing vein on his arm, visible for just a second, gave it away.
It was the virus. The Centipede virus.
His file, once decrypted, was shocking. Michael had undergone the transformation caused by the Centipede Serum, yet he had never officially surfaced on SHIELD's radar. Somehow, he'd managed to stay hidden all this time, a ghost in the system. Only this time, he'd been caught on camera.
Phil Coulson stood before the virtual screen, hands clasped behind his back as he studied Michael's digital profile. "His condition appears unusually stable," Phil muttered, tapping his fingers against his thigh. "Perhaps even... successful. If that's true, it changes everything. We have to find him as soon as possible. The ramifications of this are enormous."
Everyone present understood the risk. Centipede Virus test subjects were notoriously unstable. Their bodies couldn't contain the volatile serum indefinitely—most ended in catastrophic self-destruction, taking entire buildings and innocent people with them.
"I've locked onto his location," Daisy reported as she pushed her chair back, voice steady but concerned. "But I want a promise. This time, we go in gently. We're not here to hurt him."
Phil nodded with gravity. "I can't promise outcomes. But I can promise we'll try to help."
Phil stared at the glowing dot blinking on the holographic map. "Just make sure nothing goes wrong. If he's unstable like the others..."
"I'll do my best," Daisy said, biting her lip, the weight of the situation pressing down on her.
"Let's reroute immediately," Phil ordered, and the plane changed course toward the outer edge of the city.
As she leaned back in her chair, staring at the updated trajectory, a hand gently rested on her shoulder.
Aiden had been observing Daisy work—her eyes glued to the digital screens, fingers dancing across holographic keys. She looked determined, fierce, and radiant under the cool blue lights.
"You're really pushing yourself, huh?" said a soft voice. Aiden slid into the seat beside her, smirking as he leaned in.
Daisy glanced sideways. It was Aiden. Always calm, always watching.
She sighed. Daisy exhaled, her brow furrowed. "I have to. I just hope we can help Michael. He doesn't deserve what's happening to him. I just… I don't want to mess this up. If he's really stable, we might learn something that saves lives. But if he's not…"
Her voice trailed off. Aiden sat down beside her, his expression unreadable.
"If it turns ugly…" she continued, "you'll help me, right?"
Aiden gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Of course I will. You don't even need to ask."
---
Location: Michael Peterson's Apartment
Meanwhile, at Michael Peterson's home in a modest, aging apartment complex, the atmosphere was heavy. Michael paced the floor of his living room like a caged animal. His breathing was shallow. His skin glistened with sweat. Deep inside, he could feel something wrong. Something boiling.
The virus.
His veins pulsed with a dull orange glow beneath the skin. He had done everything to suppress it. Sent his son away. Shut out the world. But the power—unstable and raw—was becoming too much to contain.
The Centipede serum had given him strength—yes—but it was a cursed gift. Unstable. Volatile. A ticking time bomb under his skin.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
He froze.
Every muscle in his body tensed. Someone was at the door.
Michael crept over cautiously and peeked through the peephole. Outside stood a young woman with brown hair and intelligent eyes, and beside her was a tall man, his stance relaxed but his eyes sharp. He didn't recognize either of them.
"Who is it?" Michael asked, his voice hoarse.
"My name is Daisy," she said. "This is Aiden. We're here because we know about the Centipede virus. We know what you've been through. And we want to help."
Michael's instincts screamed not to trust them. But something in her tone made him hesitate. After a pause, Against his better judgment, he opened the door slightly, keeping the chain on.
"I don't know you. And I sure as hell don't need your help," he said gruffly.
Daisy nodded understandingly but didn't back away. "I get it. You don't know us. But I know about the Centipede Serum. I know what it's doing to you. You're trying to fight it, but it's not stable. It's only a matter of time."
That struck a nerve.
Michael's eyes narrowed. "How the hell do you know about that?"
"We work with SHIELD," she admitted. "But we're not here to arrest you or lock you away. I helped them track you, yes, but only because I want to help. I believe you're stable enough to offer real insight. Maybe even a cure."
Before Daisy could say more, Michael's anger exploded.
As soon as the word "S.H.I.E.L.D" left her lips, Michael's demeanor changed completely.
"SHIELD?" he roared. "You brought SHIELD to my door?" "Liar," he snarled.
Without another word, he lunged toward Daisy with terrifying speed, aiming to shove her away.
But Aiden was faster.
With a blur of motion, Aiden stepped in front of Daisy, his expression darkening. "You dare?" he growled.
In a split second, his hand shot out and slammed into Michael's chest with enough force to lift the enhanced man off his feet and send him crashing into his own couch.
Michael gasped, his mind spinning. That's impossible, he thought. 'I've got enhanced strength. How did he…?'
Aiden walked forward, calm and intimidating. "You're not the only one with power."
Michael gritted his teeth, rage mixing with desperation. He felt the serum stirring—his skin glowing, heat rising through his body like magma. The burn of unstable energy made his muscles convulse.
"No! I said stay back!" Michael shouted as he struggled to his feet. His veins burned orange like embers about to erupt.
But Aiden showed no fear.
"I warned you," Aiden muttered coldly. Then, with a smooth motion, he ducked under Michael's wild punch and struck him cleanly at the base of the neck. The blow was precise—enough to knock out a man without killing him.
Michael collapsed instantly, his body limp.
Within seconds, the glow from his veins dimmed, and the dangerous heat radiating from him dissipated. He lay on the floor, unconscious, but breathing evenly.
Daisy stared at Aiden in awe and disbelief. "You took him down… without hurting him too badly. That was incredible."
Aiden shrugged, turning back to her. "I promised I'd help, didn't I?"
"He'll be okay," Daisy said softly. "At least for now."
Aiden nodded. "We need to get him out of here before the next surge."
Outside the apartment, sirens could be heard in the distance. They had little time.
"Are you okay? He didn't scare you?" Aiden's voice was low but filled with concern as he stepped closer to Daisy, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of fear.
Daisy shook her head, exhaling a deep breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I'm fine," she said quietly. "But… his condition isn't. It's not just unstable—it's self-destructive. If you hadn't knocked him out when you did, there's no telling how many people could've died. Us included."
She looked down at Michael's unconscious form, lying motionless on the floor. His breathing was ragged, and the faint glow under his skin had finally dimmed. But the tension hadn't left the room—not entirely. The threat still lingered in the air like an aftershock.
Aiden gave a small nod and crouched beside Michael. Without hesitation, he lifted the man's limp body into his arms as if he weighed nothing at all. "Then let's take him back. We'll wait for him to wake up, and maybe once he calms down… we'll be able to talk to him."
---
They returned to the jet—The Bus, as the team called it—a retrofitted S.H.I.E.L.D aircraft that served as their mobile base of operations. Inside, the medical bay had already been prepped, and within minutes, Michael was restrained and placed inside a containment room reinforced with blast-resistant glass and dampening fields calibrated for meta-human activity.
Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz immediately began analyzing Michael's blood samples, while Coulson stood in silence, watching the unconscious man through the glass. The team had dealt with dangerous people before, but this was different. This wasn't a supervillain with a master plan. This was a victim—weaponized and abandoned.
After an hour of silent tension, Coulson turned away from the observation window. His expression was grim. "His condition is far worse than we anticipated," he said. "Whatever the Centipede did to him, it's unstable… and getting worse. If Aiden hadn't intervened when he did, Michael would've exploded with enough force to level half the block."
Fitz flinched when the word exploded, but Jemma only nodded gravely. "His cells are overloaded with Extremis… laced with Gamma-based compounds and something else—possibly Chitauri in origin. It's like they stitched together various unstable elements and hoped it wouldn't collapse."
Coulson turned his gaze toward Aiden, who leaned against the wall with arms crossed. "You've absorbed Extremis before. Do you think you could… do the same with the Centipede virus?"
Aiden tilted his head, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe," he said. "But even if I could absorb it… are you seriously suggesting I go around sucking the virus out of every enhanced sleeper soldier they've created? You can't expect me to be a one-man cleanup crew."
Coulson let out a quiet breath. He didn't respond.
He had considered it, of course. In truth, he'd considered something worse: asking to study Aiden's physiology—his DNA, his blood, his brain. If there was even a chance to reverse-engineer immunity or resistance to the virus… it could save countless lives. But he didn't say it aloud.
He'd seen what Aiden was capable of—and he wasn't sure how far that patience extended.
He knows that Aiden will definitely not agree. He is not sure how Aiden will react after he says this. He did not want to anger Aiden while they were still flying in the air.
Instead, he stepped forward with calm sincerity. "In any case… thank you. Both of you," he said, glancing at Daisy. "If it weren't for you finding Michael… and for Aiden knocking him out before the worst could happen… there would be a lot of people dead right now. Your abilities—and your instincts—saved lives today."
Then, Coulson's expression softened. "That's why I'm extending a formal offer. I'd like both of you to join S.H.I.E.L.D—not just as assets, but as official consultants for my team. We need people like you. And we need each other if we're going to stop whatever Centipede is planning next."
Aiden looked amused. "Don't ask me," he said, folding his arms. "If Daisy agrees, I'll tag along."
All eyes turned to Daisy.
She hesitated for only a moment—but it wasn't because she was uncertain. It was because this moment, right now, had been building for years. She'd been a rogue hacker, a freedom fighter, a rebel. Now? She had a chance to work from the inside. To make real change. To stop things like Centipede before they destroyed more lives.
She… originally intended to enter S.H.I.E.L.D; now she has a chance; of course, she will not refuse.
"I'm in," she said finally. "Let's do it."
A small smile formed on Coulson's face. "Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D."
He extended his hand, and Daisy shook it firmly.
With a hacker and a powerhouse at his side, his team was shaping up better than he could've imagined. Originally, he had considered Grant Ward as the team's combat specialist—a top-tier operative, physically exceptional. But now? With Aiden officially on board, there was no need. Grant was elite by human standards, but compared to Aiden… it wasn't even a contest.
Aiden and Daisy spent the next few hours setting up their quarters aboard The Bus. The rooms were small—just enough space for a bed, a desk, and some personal items. They didn't share a room, but it didn't matter. Everyone aboard the Bus could see the way they looked at each other. Their bond was obvious.
Fitz and Simmons greeted them warmly, both excited and curious about Aiden's abilities—though Jemma's questions bordered on intrusive until Daisy gently nudged her to back off.
As for Melinda May, her expression remained unreadable. She offered a curt nod and nothing more. But that, in May's world, was practically a hug.
Strangely, Aiden noticed the absence of one name that had come up in Coulson's original draft for the team—Grant Ward. The operative was nowhere to be seen. No mention. No briefing. Nothing.
'Did I replace him?' Aiden wondered, not without a bit of smug satisfaction. He knew Ward's secret. Knew what he really was—a Hydra agent hidden in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ranks.
'Good, Aiden thought. If he'd shown up here, I would've taken him out the moment he stepped on the plane.' Aiden really didn't like this Ward.
Anyway, he joined S.H.I.E.L.D with Daisy. Now, with the identity of this consultant, it is much more convenient for him to follow other people with abilities.
Later that night, after sharing a quiet dinner in the lounge and a brief stroll under the stars visible from the aircraft's observation dome, Aiden walked Daisy back to her room.
"Good night," she said with a tired smile, pausing at her door.
Aiden touched her hand. "Call me if you can't sleep."
She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'll try."
He grinned and walked down the hallway toward his own room. The plane hummed gently around him, the steady rhythm of engine and tech a strange lullaby. He'd barely settled onto his bed when—
Knock. Knock.
He paused, blinking.
Daisy? he thought. Maybe she'd changed her mind.
He got up, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door with a soft smile—
Only to find Jemma Simmons standing there, clutching a tablet.
Her expression was somewhere between nervous and excited, and Aiden's smile faltered just a little.
"Jemma?" he asked. "Everything alright?"
"I… I hope so," she said, holding out the tablet. "I think I've found something about the virus. Something you might want to see."