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Inside the car, temporarily safe, Barbara Morse asked in confusion,
"Henry, you're not afraid of them, are you? Then why didn't you fight back? Even just subduing them would've been fine. Or is it that you can only block handgun fire, and assault rifles can actually hurt you?"
Henry explained calmly,
"I only know this much: the more the enemy wants us to do something, the more we shouldn't do it. You know my abilities—doesn't it seem like they were just coming to die?
"If that's the case, is it possible that that was their real objective? Or do you think all those people have defected, and that they deserve to die?"
Barbara Morse felt that the order itself was deeply problematic. She had known a little more than the others—that was why she had questioned the command and ended up being discarded.
So where had it gone wrong?
"Where do you think the problem is?" she asked.
"I don't know," Henry replied.
He was lying.
If it wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D. or HYDRA screwing up internally, then the most likely culprit—especially with Captain Marvel entering the picture—was the Skrulls.
Those aliens could freely shapeshift into human appearances. Infiltration and subversion from within were exactly their specialty. It perfectly matched what Barbara had described.
From the assassination of Howard Stark by the Winter Soldier, it was clear that American standards for judging killers could be… flexible.
Killing undocumented aliens? No problem—kill as many as you want.
But if he laid a hand on S.H.I.E.L.D. agents—regardless of Skrull involvement—would those wrongly killed agents end up destroying his normal life?
And more importantly—
Why were the Skrulls targeting him?
Henry asked,
"Bobby, is there anyone in your organization you can still trust—someone you can contact to find out what's really going on?"
Barbara, in the passenger seat, bit her fingernail.
"Can I still trust anyone…?"
Shot several times by her own people—even if the wounds weren't fatal—the psychological damage had pushed her to the edge of a confidence collapse.
This might've been the perfect moment to pull Barbara Morse to his side. But with them still on the run, Henry focused instead on stabilizing her state of mind.
"I don't know whether the people you trusted before are still trustworthy now. But remember this: don't always take what people say at face value.
"Is their attitude the same as usual? Has their behavior changed? Do they treat you differently—like an enemy instead of a colleague?
"Is there anything illogical in their wording or context? All of that helps us judge whether someone is telling the truth, or luring us into a trap.
"And people who think they have the upper hand usually love to talk—breaking down advantages and disadvantages, trying to crush your hope so you surrender. In doing so, they often reveal a lot of information.
"To get that kind of intelligence, you can't be afraid to communicate."
Instead of calming her, Henry's words made Barbara look at him strangely.
"So that's how you see me? You don't trust anyone?"
Henry didn't feel awkward in the slightest. He just smiled.
"Trust is a false premise. If your actions align with my interests—or represent an investment in the future—then it doesn't matter whether you're telling the truth.
"If your actions are meant to harm me or cause irreversible losses, then whether you're telling the truth still doesn't matter.
"I judge people by their objectives, then decide how to act.
"As for 'trust'—isn't it just acting under the assumption that the other person won't hurt you? Or should I demonstrate trust and loyalty by smiling while someone stabs me in the back?"
Barbara pouted and muttered,
"Fine. I can't argue with you, you jerk."
She pulled out a portable phone from her coat.
"I'll call someone and ask what's going on. I hope that guy doesn't betray my trust."
The call connected quickly.
"Fury—"
"Bobby, what the fuck!" came an exasperated voice.
"I just ran into a huge mess myself, and when I get back I hear you're in trouble too. You're still an intern, right? What—step outside and immediately trigger a nuclear crisis?"
"Fury, stop yelling!" Barbara snapped.
"I want answers more than you do! I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. was about protecting world peace, not a gathering of idiots!"
"Whoa, calm down, kid. Only elites who pass the screening get into S.H.I.E.L.D.—you know that. Now calm yourself and tell me exactly what happened."
Barbara quickly summarized everything, including the suspicious points she'd identified.
On the other end, Fury listened in silence. After a pause, he asked,
"You're saying Agent Gordon ordered you to shoot Henry Brown? That Henry Brown?"
"Yes," Barbara answered simply, listening intently.
If Fury was going to lie to her, this was the moment.
After a long pause, Fury spoke again, serious now.
"Alright, Bobby. I'm about to tell you something insane. It hasn't been written up yet, doesn't even have a clearance level—but it's definitely classified. Keep your mouth shut."
"Go ahead. You know I can handle it. Otherwise I wouldn't have been part of the professor's research team."
Back in high school, Barbara Morse had been part of Professor Wilma Calvin's research group—a government-funded project developing a super-soldier serum.
Government project meant strict vetting—not just competence, but loyalty tests as well.
Freedom-loving America absolutely had that system. Their core elite wasn't open to just anyone.
That background was Barbara's best credential—and why Fury continued:
"I encountered aliens today. They can change their appearance at will—become anyone you know.
"One impersonated Phil right in front of me. I couldn't tell. Not until the real Phil called me. If what you're saying is true, then Gordon might've been replaced."
"Then what do we do?" Barbara asked.
"Report to Director Keller?"
"Not yet."
"Why not?" she challenged.
"Because I can't even be sure you are the real one," Fury replied bluntly.
"I don't have another Barbara Morse conveniently standing next to me for verification. Same goes for Keller."
"Then what are you going to do?"
After a brief pause, Fury said decisively,
"Listen, Bobby. I'm tracking a key individual right now. According to reports, they're at an internet café. Meet me there—we'll talk face to face."
"Alright, but—"
"But what? Spit it out," Fury snapped.
"I have a companion."
"Who?"
"Henry Brown."
"Hen—! Are you serious?" Fury exclaimed.
"And his tiger," Barbara added.
Henry corrected her calmly, "It's a tabby cat, not a tiger."
There was a long silence.
Finally, Fury said,
"Fine. Bring him along. If Gordon really was replaced, then besides why Brown was targeted, I'm curious. And the enemy of my enemy can be an ally."
Fury rattled off an address.
After Barbara relayed it, she asked,
"Henry, do you know where that is?"
Henry nodded.
Barbara spoke back into the phone,
"Got it. We'll meet you there, Fury."
"Be careful," Fury said, then hung up.
Barbara retracted the phone's antenna and summarized what she could for Henry—though with his super hearing, he'd already caught every word.
After finishing, she asked,
"Do you think this Fury guy is trustworthy?"
"This is someone you know, not me," Henry replied.
"So whether he can be trusted—that's your judgment to make."
Henry deliberately avoided relying on movie foreknowledge. He left the decision to Barbara, while privately thinking:
So that really is Nick Fury… the future Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Is he the same white, one-eyed guy I remember?
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