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She sat to his right, back straight, chin held high, like she owned the place. Her eyes gleamed with things Fury couldn't make out - whether ulterior motives or plain smugness, he did not know.
"So, what do I call ya?" He asked gruffly, squinting at the near invisible desert track road as the hot sun beamed down on them, in his comfy little jeep.
"Marvel," She said, looking off to her side. Nick doubted she was gazing at the scenery due to the plain lack of it.
That's right. It's a blistering Sahara's endless golden-brown sand as far as the eye could see. Why the woman wanted driven out here Nick had yet to ask. Though, for the first time in a long time, he didn't really want to find out.
He scoffed at the woman's gall, tilting his head to shoot her a look over his sunglasses. "Ya look more like a Madison, to me."
The self-proclaimed Marvel, raised a dauntingly amused eyebrow. "My name is Captain Marvel, unless you want to call me Captain, Furry."
Nick sighed, "For the last time; it's Fury."
"I'll believe that if you manage to keep both eyes."
Nick smothered down his shocked cough and sharply returned his gaze to the road. "What makes ya think I'll loose an eye?"
Marvel shrugged the shrug of an uncaring being that knew they outmatched the competition tenfold yet still competed for the sport of it. "You seem like that kinda guy."
"Duly noted," he managed as the brief outline of a building glimmered in the horizon. "What in the-?"
"Ah," Marvel sat forward, eyes pinching against the bright light from overhead. "That's my stop."
"And it would be, exactly..?" Nick tried.
Marvel smirked at him like she knew his game but was better at it. He didn't doubt it for a moment, this woman seemed god-like and demon-like all in one huge taco.
"Somewhere, someplace." She replied, thumbing the handle to her passenger side door.
Alarmed, Nick slowed to a jarring stop. "What are ya doin'?"
But her seatbelt was already clanging against the side of the seat, her hair following her like a vicious servant. She offered a fleeting grin. "Thanks, Furry. And off the record, the name's Carol. Carol Danvers."
Then she was off, striding down the god damn dust-road, stride thick with confidence, red and blue metallic armour glinting like Hell's gates.
(Ten years later, when he loses his Good eye he thinks back to her and laughs to himself as the bandages are pulled taut over the fresh, clotting wound.)