The only warning was a soft whine, a whoosh, and then a little biting pain as the dart made contact with Tommy's neck. And the walls came alive. Men in black stepped from the shadows, from the doorways of the adjacent rooms, all with guns pointed at Tommy's face. One of these men was Nick Fury, dressed from head to foot in the dark S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform with a golden eagle gleaming on his shoulder and a wicked look in his eye. "Evening, motherfucker," he greeted as he strolled up to the youth with a pistol in his hand. He pulled back his arm and knocked Tommy across the jaw with the handle of the weapon. "That was for my nose," he explained, his tone pleasant. He was enjoying this perhaps a little too much. Little terrorist bastard. Looked like the serum was working. It was still in the testing stages, designed to suppress mutant abilities for a short period of time. There wouldn't be any ill effects, as far as Fury knew. Not that he cared.