"Master, I..."
Though her master had prepared a negotiation plan for her, Tita had never been skilled in verbal sparring. She found the previous mission to be more difficult than any battle she had ever fought. Even now, she was still trying to calm herself.
Solomon waved his hand, stopping the clearly unsettled artificial soldier from continuing. It was obvious that Tita's emotions were unstable. He motioned for her to sit in the guest chair, signaling an invisible servant to bring her a cup of hot tea. Meanwhile, he continued toweling off his hair—he had no intention of bringing ancient Antarctic bacteria back into human society.
"Just submit a report later," he said, flipping open a file on his desk. "I trust that you completed the basic objectives."
The document contained Sisterhood surveillance reports on Harold Finch and John Reese. They had been trying to track down Solomon and figure out what Samaritan truly was. However, Solomon had more pressing matters, so this issue had been indefinitely postponed.
"As for whether Agent Hill accepts the rest of the terms, the situation is already in our favor," he continued. "We're not trying to burn bridges with Nick Fury. This arrangement—forced coexistence—is his best option. At least, that's what he believes."
"She refused, Master."
Solomon thought he had misheard until Tita repeated it again, detailing key points of the negotiation. The basic conditions had been agreed upon, but Hill had stubbornly refused to budge on certain terms.
Clearly, Maria Hill—or more accurately, Nick Fury—had miscalculated.
Solomon was neither a vulture nor a hyena. He would not tolerate insult or intimidation, nor would he display weakness.
He was a lion.
Now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was scavenging under his shadow.
He had spent years preparing for this moment—preparing for the day Nick Fury would be forced to crawl in the dark.
Solomon reassured Tita that this outcome was not her fault. Fury had given Hill a fixed negotiation script. This was not a business deal with room for compromise—both sides were merely testing each other's cards.
"Drink some tea, have some Makrout, girl," he said with a smile. "I'm going to go have a word with the one who bullied you."
Tita smiled apologetically.
She wore the black lipstick Solomon had given her, her white hair swaying slightly. With his same golden eyes, she was flawless.
Solomon reached out, patting her head. Like Dana, Tita deeply enjoyed this affectionate gesture.
They had been created from a quarter of a Philosopher's Stone, sharing a soul-link with Solomon. No matter what kind of person he became, these artificial soldiers would always be as close and reliable as a piece of his own soul.
Perhaps because of this intense bond, they sometimes displayed combat prowess and intelligence beyond the limits of their alchemical cores. They were his reflections, albeit only fragments of him.
"Go play some Texas Hold'em, dear," he said. "You have a day off."
"Shall the Sisterhood prepare for combat, Master?"
Tita rose, carefully placing down her teacup before standing at attention.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is resisting your orders. I believe such an organization should be eliminated."
Solomon let out a soft sigh, smiling.
The fanaticism in his artificial soldiers was difficult to suppress—it always found a way to surface.
"Patience, Tita. Everything is proceeding according to plan.
No matter what Nick Fury decides, I have multiple ways to ensure things end exactly as I desire."
There was a dangerous glint in his eyes.
To Tita, it dominated everything.
"Our target is the green-skinned, pointy-eared vermin.
Nick Fury trusts them—he will gather them to serve him.
We have plenty of time.
And it's easier to hunt Skrulls when they're clustered together."
Solomon's voice was icy.
"I promise you, your sword will taste Skrull blood."
Tita's golden eyes burned with determination.
"I will, Master! The Sisterhood will fight for you until death!"
"Don't forget to submit your report," Solomon reminded her.
"Rules are rules."
—
"Don't forget to submit your report, Hill."
Nick Fury's voice was calm.
"Even if S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer exists, this secure line is still our legacy. Congress and the military can't trace it.
I need reports to stay in control."
"You're not going to tell me what you're planning, are you?"
Hill's frustration boiled over.
Even with S.H.I.E.L.D. gone, Fury's obsession with secrecy was infuriating.
"I think he knows where the Skrulls are," she said.
Her usual calm demeanor had finally cracked.
Solomon was the stone tossed into the pond, disturbing the still waters.
"I think he plans to kill something."
Fury exhaled slowly.
"I don't expect some intergalactic Hitler to understand what I'm doing," he said, his streetwise drawl thick with sarcasm.
"You just need to stall him for me."
"And what good will that do?" Hill retorted.
"Do you expect me to send the Avengers to fight him?"
"Why not?" Fury said.
Hill froze.
"You're serious?"
"No."
Fury chuckled.
"I'm messing with you, Hill. Don't take it seriously."
"I'm still in control."
"If you were, you wouldn't be calling me on a burner phone."
Fury grinned.
"Where do you think S.H.I.E.L.D. got all that civilian data?
Burner phones.
Who do you think pushed for burner phones and ARPANET?
S.H.I.E.L.D.!"
Fury flicked away his cigarette, tapping the shoulder of the ragged addict beside him.
A needle-marked arm emerged from the filthy blankets, reaching out to pick up the still-burning stub and inhale the last drag.
These junkies couldn't use drugs in public. The moment they passed out, other addicts would rob them blind.
But this abandoned building was home to the absolute lowest of the low—junkies who couldn't even afford methamphetamines.
No one bothered robbing them.
Perhaps some had once worn suits and ties, but now?
They had rotting teeth, chronic diseases, and destroyed families.
No one cared about these human ruins.
Fury had earned their welcome by bringing weed and a gun.
In return, they had given him a spot to sleep.
Even though it was covered in needles and fleas, it was still a hiding place.
No one would ever expect the former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. to be holed up in an abandoned crack den.
The World Security Council was still operational, but the enemy remained unclear.
Fury was certain Hydra knew he was alive.
But he didn't believe the U.S. government had purged them entirely.
Because Hydra wasn't just infiltrating the system—
It was the system.
Tracing back their roots, Fury had even found Hydra influence inside Koch Industries, the second-largest privately held company in the U.S.
To Fury, the American government was beyond salvation.
Hydra would always be there.
_________________________
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