Fury could trace every byte.
Washington. Berlin. Madripoor.
He waited.
Patiently.
He let Garrett finish sending every last encrypted pulse.
This was exactly what he wanted.
Let fear spread within HYDRA.
Let them move.
Let them reach out.
Let them expose themselves.
"Finished?"
Two minutes later, Fury set down his glass.
Garrett's wrist finally stopped twitching.
Transmission complete.
He exhaled slowly and smiled like a man who believed he had won.
"Finished."
He shrugged, utterly fearless.
"Go ahead. Have your alien freak kill me."
"But I promise you this—your alien masters will soon discover Earth isn't so easy to swallow."
"You're wrong about two things, John."
Fury stepped forward.
The air began to heat with each measured footstep.
"First—I don't have masters."
"And second…"
He stopped directly in front of Garrett.
He leaned down.
His skin began to peel away.
Flames burst from his skull.
Where flesh had been—
There was fire.
Where an eye once rested—
There was hell.
"…I don't need aliens to kill you."
"Look into my eyes."
His voice was no longer human.
It was judgment.
Garrett froze.
He saw faces.
Every operative he had betrayed.
Every civilian sacrificed.
Every agent murdered under his orders.
"What… what is this—"
He tried to close his eyes.
He couldn't.
An unseen force held his lids open.
He was forced to stare into the inferno.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH—!!!"
His scream ripped through the room.
Every sin he had committed became pure pain—returned to him in full.
His pupils burned black.
His body went limp.
Dead.
The flames around Fury's skull dimmed.
His flesh reformed.
The white-haired old man stood again.
He adjusted his collar.
"Did we get it all?"
"Yes, Director."
The Skrull operative glanced at Garrett's corpse with unmistakable awe.
"Our receivers captured every outgoing signal."
"Transmission distributed to thirty-seven endpoints worldwide."
A holographic map ignited.
Thirty-seven red dots glowed across the globe.
"Good."
Fury smiled faintly.
"Compile the coordinates."
"If I'm the last Avenger…"
He pulled a photograph from his coat.
The original team—assembled on the day the Avengers were formed.
"…then I'd better start avenging."
----
The Bus
Since Nick Fury had been declared a global fugitive, the atmosphere aboard the aircraft had grown tense.
Phil Coulson sat flipping through reports on Fury's alleged crimes, brows deeply furrowed.
"I don't believe it."
"I don't believe Director Fury is HYDRA."
"And I don't believe he's behind this so-called 'Secret Warriors' program."
"Agreed."
Melinda May stood with arms folded against the wall.
"I've known Fury for years."
"He lies. He manipulates."
"But he doesn't sell children to HYDRA."
"Evidence is concrete, May."
Jemma Simmons pointed at the photos on the screen.
"That's Fury's signature."
"That's a S.H.I.E.L.D. encryption seal."
"And those kids—we saw them. They were suffering."
"Evidence can be forged," Coulson replied grimly.
"Especially when S.H.I.E.L.D.'s systems are infiltrated like a sieve."
"HYDRA could pin anything on Fury."
"So we blindly believe a globally wanted former Director?"
Leo Fitz stepped up beside Simmons.
"Sir, S.H.I.E.L.D. has collapsed."
"Command authority now rests with Brock Rumlow."
"At present, he is the highest-ranking officer."
"Rumlow?" Coulson let out a dry laugh.
"That blunt instrument?"
"Putting him in charge of S.H.I.E.L.D. is a joke."
"But he's legitimate,"
Daisy Johnson said quietly, unconsciously rubbing the watch on her wrist.
"We're S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Coulson."
"We swore loyalty to the organization. To protecting the world."
"Not to Nick Fury personally."
Her gaze was steady.
"If Fury's clean—why hasn't he come out to explain?"
"Why is he hiding?"
"He's waiting for the right moment," Coulson insisted.
"We need to find him. Clear his name."
"Only he can lead S.H.I.E.L.D."
"I disagree."
Grant Ward interjected smoothly.
"I think Daisy's right."
"We execute Rumlow's mission first."
"That obelisk is an 084 object."
"If we don't secure it, the fallout could be catastrophic."
Silence stretched.
They had fought side by side.
Bled together.
No one wanted the debate to become something uglier.
Then—
Bzzzz.
Ward's phone vibrated in his pocket.
A specific vibration pattern.
His eyes flickered.
"I'll hit the restroom."
He offered a calm smile and walked toward the back of the aircraft.
The argument paused.
Simmons sighed and shifted beside Daisy, lowering her voice.
"Hey… did you notice?"
"Ward was defending you the whole time."
"Huh?"
Daisy blinked.
"Was he? He was just being objective."
"Oh, please."
Simmons wiggled her brows.
"He practically stares at you."
"I'd bet money he has feelings."
"Stop it, Simmons."
Daisy waved her off, flustered.
"I don't feel anything for Ward."
"He's my supervising officer."
"If anything, he's like… a strict older brother?"
"Really?" Simmons teased.
"Because last mission he nearly got himself killed saving you."
"He jumped out of a plane to save you once, too," Daisy shot back. "Why don't you say he likes you?"
She turned toward the window.
Clouds drifted beneath them.
Her fingers brushed the watch on her wrist.
Blue eyes.
Calm even at the edge of death.
No matter where you are… press it… and I'll come get you home.
I just need to find the answer…
Once I do… I'll go back to him.
For work purposes, obviously.
He is my 'boss,' after all.
The soft smile that curved her lips betrayed her.
"And?" Simmons leaned closer.
"And nothing."
Daisy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I actually think he and May make more sense."
"You've seen them—both quiet, both deadly."
"They even fight with the same poker face."
She shrugged lightly.
"Honestly?"
"They're practically a match made in heaven."
Outside the aircraft—
Storm clouds gathered.
Inside—
Lines were being drawn.
And somewhere across the globe—
Thirty-seven red dots were about to light up like targets.
--------------
T/N:
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