Marvelous Mutations

At the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, the heavy iron doors of the main entrance hissed open with a mechanical sigh.

When Director Nick Fury looked up from the holographic display floating above his desk and saw Agents Natasha Romanoff and Phil Coulson walking back into the briefing chamber, with a plump husky waddling between them at that, his one good eye narrowed dangerously.

For a few long seconds, he said nothing.

The husky trotted in happily, its fluffy tail wagging like a metronome, panting softly with the unmistakable satisfaction of having taken a nap in air conditioning.

Fury blinked once. Then again.

"...Explain," he said flatly, his voice like a boulder rolling downhill.

The room fell into silence, broken only by the soft tapping of the dog's claws on the polished floor.

Didn't they go out on a classified task?

And they were back already, with that dog?

The husky sat down with a satisfied huff and scratched behind its ear, as if it too were puzzled about why everyone looked so tense.

Coulson sighed. His shoulders slumped slightly, the sharp professionalism of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent barely holding together beneath the weight of humiliation.

From the moment they stepped into that bizarre grocery store, everything had gone downhill.

They were completely outmaneuvered by a young man who didn't even look old enough to rent a car, much less manipulate two top-tier agents of a global intelligence agency.

And now? They had returned with a dog.

Not a lead, not a suspect, not even a classified item.

Just a chubby dog.

"Well," Natasha said finally, spreading her hands with a shrug and a dry smile. "We couldn't complete the task. That guy... he's just too difficult to deal with."

Fury's brow creased. "Difficult to deal with?" he echoed, not hiding the disbelief in his tone. "Did you provoke him?"

He was very clear in his briefing, under no circumstances were they to offend Luke Yale.

Natasha groaned and ran a hand through her fiery red hair. "There wasn't even a chance to. Honestly, we were the ones being dragged along the nose from the moment we stepped through the door."

She wasn't exaggerating. Luke knew who they were the moment they arrived, twisted their fake identities back at them like a judo master flipping his opponent, and then somehow managed to guilt-trip them into accepting an animated, slightly overweight husky as a form of "help".

Coulson, in his usual gentlemanly manner, stepped forward and took the brunt of the explanation. "Sir, from the moment we engaged, he seemed to be in control. He spoke nonsense, but it was always just enough to keep us off balance. He... he gave us the dog, and said it could help find Stark."

Nick Fury's face grew darker with every word, until it seemed like a storm cloud had settled over the base.

S.H.I.E.L.D. agent identities compromised?. A mutant dog strolled into the headquarters with zero resistance?.

His best agents returned with nothing but fur and regret?

He turned slowly to look at Doggo, who had now sprawled on the cool tile floor and was snoring lightly.

The sound of its snoring echoed like a slap across Fury's pride.

"Fine", he muttered through clenched teeth. "If Luke Yale says this dog can help find Tony Stark... then we're going to see if that mutt can earn its keep."

He jabbed a finger toward the agents.

"You two, take it to Afghanistan. Find Stark. Now."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Just the three of us?"

Fury's eye twitched. "No. Just the two of you... and that dog."

Doggo lifted its head at the sound of the word "dog", his tail thumping lazily.

Fury glared at it. "And you, don't blow up anything unless absolutely necessary."

Doggo barked once, as if in agreement. Then it immediately started licking between his legs.

Fury looked away in disgust. "Go, now!"

…

Kunar, Afghanistan. Desert Perimeter

The desert heat radiated like a furnace, the air shimmering with waves of distortion.

Near a cluster of rocky outcrops, three distinct teams had gathered. The wreckage of a convoy, a series of blackened military Humvees and scattered debris, lay silent in the sand, still half-buried by dust storms.

This was the last known location of Tony Stark.

The first team on the scene was the U.S. Military, arriving in force. A small armada of armored vehicles formed a perimeter, supported by three thundering helicopters casting shadows over the sand like circling vultures. Nearly a hundred soldiers stood on alert, the sun glinting off their tactical gear.

Their pride lay not just in their firepower, but in the ten Labrador retrievers seated neatly beside their handlers, each one lean, muscled, and trained to track explosives, fugitives, and wounded soldiers. Their noses twitched, already eager to work.

The second team was smaller, dressed in sleek black suits. These were the FBI agents, tech-focused and serious. Each carried a high-tech scanner designed by Hammer Industries, capable of tracking faint biological traces. The blinking LED lights and robotic chirps of the machines added a strange sci-fi edge to the scene.

And then...

S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived.

A single black SUV.

Two agents stepped out with military precision, Natasha Romanoff in dark tactical gear, and Phil Coulson, briefcase in hand.

Then the third member of their team emerged from the backseat.

Doggo.

The pudgy husky jumped down and immediately flopped to the ground with a huff, rolling belly-up and squirming in the sand. His tongue lolled out as he began to chase his tail in slow, wobbling circles before collapsing again.

There was silence.

Then.

Laughter exploded across the desert.

Soldiers choked back guffaws. One of the Labrador retrievers let out a sharp bark, as if insulted. An FBI agent actually dropped his scanner in disbelief.

"Are they serious?"

"That's their tracker?"

"A damn husky?"

"Who in their right mind brings a husky to the desert? A fat one at that!" One of the dog handlers commented in disbelief.

Even the military commander, a hardened man with three tours behind him, looked momentarily confused.

Coulson closed his eyes briefly, clearly trying to will himself into another universe.

S.H.I.E.L.D., the mysterious elite agency that operated from the shadows, the legendary group whispered about in high-security briefings...

Now represented by a chubby dog chasing his own tail in the desert.

Reputation?

Gone with the wind.

Literally.

Natasha just sighed, pulled her sunglasses down from her forehead, and said, "Well, buddy, it seems you made quite the impression."

Doggo looked up, panting with what might have been the goofiest smile ever seen in classified territory.

…