Fury stood waiting; he had much to do. Yet here he was, just standing and waiting, doing nothing.
But he was fine with it, because he knew he wasn't the only one who was waiting.
Across from him was a huge monitor, showing a dozen people, and he knew many more were listening in to the call he was expecting at any moment.
And with every second, they just grew more nervous; he could see the sweat roll down their faces as they sat there and waited for their judgment.
Because that was the situation. They had made a decision, gone behind his back, and acted on their own, ignoring him entirely, even temporarily stripping him of his command to nuke their own city.
He understood some of them. Russia and China didn't have a good relationship with America; they would both enjoy seeing New York in ruins.
But the rest? Sometimes he couldn't help but question how some of these people ended up in charge. Even the President of America… that guy had just allowed his own men to nuke his own city. Honestly, Fury was questioning that man's sanity.
Fury had never liked the guy, but still — to do that…
Well, he was personally looking forward to the next elections; it was high time a black person took the White House, and with how close it had been last time… yeah, this time Obama would win with ease.
Then, from the corner of his one remaining eye, he saw Hill giving him a subtle signal. That was the benefit of having people on the inside; he was informed of things in advance.
So he quickly schooled his expression and stood up straight, just in time before the room was lit up by a large hologram showing the interior of Stark's conference room.
The tech was cutting edge, allowing it to almost feel like he was there. He could clearly see the expression of everyone inside the room, which allowed him to read the overall mood.
An important skill for someone dealing with dangerous or powerful people.
And this room was filled with just that.
At the end of the long table stood Arthuria Pendragon, a person of great power, and a walking political headache.
The whole world had just watched as she and her stupidly strong knights flew halfway across the world faster than any man-made craft could carry them, and then unleashed the firepower of a small fleet.
And next to her stood Loki Odinson of Asgard, the so-called master of Midgard — a mostly empty title, but clearly, the might of Asgard wasn't to be ignored.
They had always known that Asgard, as an alien civilization, was beyond what the current Earth could handle, but it was hard to judge the difference. And it still was. After all, it was clear they used a very different technological direction.
As Reed Richards himself had said, it seemed they had followed a bio-technical direction to enhance their entire species up to a point where current Earth-level technologies simply didn't matter to them anymore.
And this battle had made clear what that meant. Fury had seen footage of Asgardian soldiers kicking around cars as if they were tin cans and ignoring attacks that made Earth's best armor look like paper. And that was with their bare skin.
They honestly looked nothing like what anyone thought of when hearing the word "alien," but that didn't make them any less dangerous.
Those two alone represented the power to bring down any and all governments on Earth, defeating any force known to man… and both of them weren't happy. Fury could easily see that much.
He also noted the man called Thor and the hammer on the table — Mjolnir. Fury recognized that hammer from the countless pictures he had seen of it, resting on the Stone of Destiny by the feet of the Young King statue in Camelot.
The power of a god, it was said to grant. And now… it granted just that.
He regretted that he hadn't been able to find someone worthy, but given that Thor had appeared with it, it seemed any human claiming it had been unlikely, and would have been a politically sensitive subject anyway.
After Mjolnir, his gaze went to the corner of the hologram. There, between Gawain and an Asgardian elite, were two objects he recognized.
The cause of this whole mess.
The Tesseract.
And the mind-control sceptre.
"Director Fury," Steve Rogers finally said shortly after the call connected, bringing Fury's eye back to the assembled group.
"Captain Rogers," Fury replied. "I would like to start by congratulating you all on a mission well done. You have saved the world, and for that, you have my heartfelt gratitude. I always knew that trusting you all was the right choice."
Fury could see that his feelings weren't shared by the Council, but since they didn't want to make themselves known, they could only watch and remain silent.
"Yeah, you guys must be loving it," Tony Stark snorted.
"Tony!" Steve tried to rein him in, but Stark ignored him.
"Come on, Rogers, we don't need to be all nice with Fury; he is as furious as the rest of us, after all. Some people shot off the big fireworks a bit early, didn't give us a chance to get out of the way," Tony said.
Fury sighed; he knew this was coming, but that didn't mean he looked forward to it. "Right. What was done is not something easy to ignore, so I will negotiate with you. What do you all want?"
He knew well that the Council would rather just sweep this entire thing under the table, but that couldn't be done without getting everyone to agree to it — and he didn't expect that to happen.
The Council members and the others listening in might be too busy hiding to know what was happening outside, but Fury was constantly updated, and he knew this wasn't something that could be hidden.
"We have no desire to negotiate anything with you, Nicholas Joseph Fury," Arthuria Pendragon said, using Fury's full name.
Fury, in turn, couldn't help but cringe at that. He was never called anything but Fury, and he wanted to correct her… but he knew he couldn't.
"I thought you wanted to negotiate, Your Majesty?" Fury asked.
"Indeed," Arthuria nodded. "But not with you. You have made it clear that you weren't part of that decision; as such, you need not bear the responsibility for it. Instead, this is a chance for us to make our demands known, and set up those future negotiations, and to judge those who need to be judged."
Fury stiffened. He didn't like where this was going.
And from the nervous expressions of the council members and others listening in, they liked it even less.
"They aren't going to like that one bit. You must understand, they aren't used to being ordered to do anything, and… that is not to mention your lack of authority," Fury did his best to be diplomatic.
"They will invite us to talk, and to be judged. They shall be given a chance to speak their case, or I shall fly my brilliant, shining Ehangwen and bring down my judgement onto them!" Arthuria said firmly, but she might as well have shouted it, given how the people listening all threw themselves back in their seats.
Fury took a deep breath, both to calm himself and to give the Avengers a chance to speak. He could see that many of them wanted to say something, but in the end, all of them, even Rogers, didn't say anything.
They were a united front, and Fury knew this wouldn't be pretty. "When do you want it?" he finally asked.
"I will give you three hours. In three hours we shall arrive at your White House, and everyone is to be there," Arthuria commanded.
"Three hours is impossible," Fury quickly said. "Some of the Council are on the other side of the world; they can't get there in three hours."
Arthuria closed her eyes for a moment, clearly thinking — or doing something else Fury didn't dare even think about.
"Your Security Council members not belonging to this nation can stay away. In the end, this decision wasn't theirs to make. I want everyone who made the decision, those who are responsible for this nation," Arthuria said as she opened her eyes once more.
"Very well," Fury gave in. After all, it wasn't his head on the block. "Anything else you want?"
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you to clean up after this mess, nor to help those in need, but beyond that, everything else can be said in person. But remember: everyone who fought, who bled and shed sweat today, are heroes, and I will hear nothing else."
Her words were simple, yet each one landed like the blow of a hammer.
Fury didn't flinch. He had clawed his way up from nothing, he had stared down aliens decades ago, and since then had dealt with generals, senators, and everything else.
Behind him, however — those unseen by Arthuria and the others, the Council and watchers — did flinch. And someone whispered sharply:
"Is she threatening our narrative—?"
"Shut up," someone else hissed.
They were losing control of the room without ever being in it.
Fury clasped his hands behind his back. "Message received, Your Majesty."
Arthuria gave a small, dignified nod — an acknowledgment, not agreement.
Loki, of course, had no such restraint.
"Yes, let us all sing of their deeds," he said theatrically, gesturing to the Avengers. "Midgard's champions fought bravely. Fought side by side with warriors of Asgard, they performed admirably indeed."
Tony blinked. "…Thanks? I think?"
Fury ignored the banter. Time was slipping. The Council behind him was silent, but their silence was pressurized — like explosives waiting for a spark.
He breathed out through his nose.
He didn't care much for them, but he also understood he couldn't allow a conflict to begin, not now.
Because a conflict now would end with a massacre, and he didn't want to have to deal with the cleanup after the top of the American government got wiped out.
"Is there anything else you wish to discuss here?" he asked.
"Discuss? They haven't discussed anything," a whisper hissed. "He allowed her to walk all over them."
"Silence, you fool, this is no place for you to complain," another voice hissed in a low whisper.
Fury ignored them, and thankfully, other than Mordred, the others who heard it also ignored it.
"No, we must deal with this face to face. I will see those who dared try to bomb my knights in the eye when I talk with them; none of your fancy toys will do," Arthuria shook her head.
"Hey, that is cutting-edge technology. Stark's finest," Tony spoke up.
"Ha! Cutting edge? This is a cutting edge!" Mordred chuckled and swung her sword.
"Hey, be carefu—!"
The call instantly cut off as the signal was lost.
Fury closed his one eye for a moment… he wasn't looking forward to having Mordred running around in the White House… but better there than SHIELD's HQ.
And he made a mental note to keep her away from anything breakable.
"Well, you heard her. If you are on the list, get your ass to the White House," Fury finally turned to address his remaining 'guests'.
"You can't be serious, Fury!"
The outburst came from one of the council members hovering just outside the camera's projection area — but since Arthuria's hologram had already blinked out, the whispering masses finally dared to let their panic spill over.
Fury turned slowly.
He didn't bother hiding the annoyance on his face anymore.
The dozen men and women in the room — heads of agencies, liaison officers, national security aides, and the two council delegates who hadn't fled yet — all froze like schoolchildren caught doing something stupid.
"I'm deadly serious," Fury said, voice low and cold. "Because unlike you all, I'm the one who actually has to look these people in the eye."
"That was a threat!" a State Department official snapped. "Flying her— her… whatever to the White House? Demanding a meeting? That's—"
"Not optional," Fury cut in.
"Fury—"
"Not. Optional."
His voice hit like a hammer, and the entire room fell silent.
Maria Hill didn't move, didn't speak, but her eyes flicked to him in quiet acknowledgment. She knew that tone. It was Fury's I'm trying very hard not to strangle someone voice.
"You idiots made this bed," Fury continued. "You chose to launch that missile. You chose to override protocols. You chose to try nuking your own damn city — while it was being defended by our only allies in this fight."
Some of the council members visibly shrank into their chairs.
"And now?" Fury gestured broadly at the hologram projector, long since dark. "Now you have to answer for it. Because I sure as hell won't be doing it for you."
One of the older men — a department head who clearly wasn't used to being talked to like this — bristled.
"We acted in the nation's best interest—"
"No," Fury snapped. "You acted out of fear. And stupidity. And now? Now you're going to stand in front of Arthuria Pendragon, King of Albion, and Loki Odinson, Lord Regent of Asgard, and explain why you tried to murder them after they saved your people."
Someone audibly gulped.
"Fury," another council member whispered, "we cannot… we cannot meet her like this. The optics—"
"Oh, the optics?" Fury barked out a humorless laugh. "Buddy, the optics are that half the world watched her save this planet while you tried to blow her up. You wanna talk optics? You're lucky she's asking for a meeting and not your head on a pike."
Dead silence.
Fury chose not to point out that she might still demand that. He leaned forward, planting both hands on the table.
"Three hours," he said. "That's all the time you have. Clean yourselves up. Fix your ties. Practice looking remorseful. Because if you embarrass this country worse than you already have—"
He straightened.
"—then may God, or Odin, or whatever cosmic force is listening, help you. Because I won't."
The room stared at him, stunned.
Finally, someone found their voice.
"…But Fury… if we go, she'll kill us."
Fury walked to the door.
"And if you don't?" He glanced back, eye cold as ice.
"She'll come get you."
He left the room in total, suffocating silence.
(End of chapter)
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