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"Henry, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Nicholas Joseph Fury. Just call me Fury—my friends all do. Honestly, I would've preferred to meet you under better circumstances, not like this."
Standing by the roadside, introduced by Barbara Morse, was "Fury"—a tall Black man with both eyes intact. Middle-aged, sporting a close-cropped haircut typical of Black men, he radiated sharp intelligence and an easy sense of humor that made him instantly likable at first meeting.
…That is, if one didn't know about the tangled mess of relationships behind him.
As this was their "first meeting," Henry showed neither obvious fondness nor hostility. He reached out to return the handshake, then adopted an innocent, uninformed expression and glanced toward Barbara Morse beside him.
Compared to Barbara—whose identity still hovered ambiguously between student and working professional—Nick Fury had fought in the Vietnam War, served as a spy during the Cold War, and eventually became a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. His experience with people and politics far exceeded hers.
This Black Nick Fury spoke candidly:
"Letting Bobby approach you was my idea. I'd wanted to make contact with you for a long time. I just didn't expect it to cause misunderstandings. Our intentions were good.
"Before I found a better opportunity, I didn't want those misunderstandings to deepen, so I suspended contact. I didn't expect you to become a target of those aliens. Can you think of any reason why?"
Is this him helping Barbara Morse justify her past actions?
To be fair, it was a passable explanation. At least when Barbara had interacted with Henry, she hadn't shown any overt hostility—she had only concealed some things.
Under those circumstances, Henry obviously wasn't going to start throwing punches the moment they met. He simply acted as if he knew nothing extra and answered Fury's question.
"I can't think of any reason why I'd be targeted. That's exactly why I want answers. Otherwise, I would've already dealt with the problem."
"That makes sense," Fury nodded.
Seeing Henry in person, the thought of recruiting him flashed through Fury's mind—then vanished just as quickly. Fury knew Henry's current identity well: CEO of Stark Pictures.
Even if he wasn't part of Stark Industries proper, a CEO's待遇 was far beyond what Fury could personally offer. What leverage did he have to recruit someone like that?
It would already be showing remarkable restraint if he didn't turn around and ask Henry for funding.
For someone like this, the best approach wasn't vulgar talk of money or benefits, but appealing to patriotism—playing the patriot card. That method could be very effective on certain idealistic young people.
But Barbara had already tried that approach—and confirmed it didn't work. This was not a man who could be moved by "ideals" or "money."
Tony Stark's successful recruitment of Henry, according to the intelligence they'd gathered, was more a matter of rivalry between geniuses—or perhaps resonance between kindred minds.
The quiet digital revolution in filmmaking that was beginning to disturb Hollywood had originated with this young man standing in front of him.
If some college student had made such bold claims, they would've been dismissed as just another Silicon Valley loudmouth. Nine out of ten would fail spectacularly; the remaining one might soar.
But backed by Stark Industries, declaring an intention to digitize film production carried an entirely different weight. Plenty of old men who had lived under Howard Stark's shadow were still alive—and still remembered.
Yet in the eyes of outsiders, this young man was merely Tony Stark's puppet. Very few believed he was the true driving force.
Perhaps it was this mutual recognition between geniuses that caused Fury to miss his chance—to let this talent fall into Stark's hands.
These were Fury's conclusions. If Henry knew what Fury was thinking, he wouldn't bother refuting every point—he'd probably just scoff at most of them.
Still, it didn't prevent Fury from treating Henry with a relatively equal attitude—despite Henry being far younger, and merely an executive who had been dragged into this mess.
Fury continued:
"Unfortunately, I believe S.H.I.E.L.D.'s actions against you are the result of alien infiltration within our organization.
"I personally witnessed their ability to transform into people we know. I couldn't tell the difference at all. The key person I'm tracking right now is a woman who's clashed with those aliens.
"Even though I can't confirm whether she's friend or foe yet, she definitely possesses intelligence on them. I know about your… special abilities. Perhaps we can cooperate temporarily?
"At the very least, we need to figure out how to expose them—and resolve the trouble that now affects both of us."
Normally, organizations avoid airing their dirty laundry. Preserving authority helps them leverage power; weaknesses are meant to be handled behind closed doors, not exposed to outsiders.
But when dealing with someone who had become CEO of Stark Pictures—and whom Fury had initially hoped to recruit merely as a personal asset—S.H.I.E.L.D.'s prestige meant nothing. Building goodwill mattered far more.
Besides, didn't this man hate being kept in the dark?
That was precisely why Fury chose to be so frank.
To Henry, this was exactly why Fury would one day become the king of spies. His way of speaking and acting put people at ease. He had accurately identified Henry's leverage and framed the situation as a win–win, rather than demanding unilateral sacrifice.
It was nothing like Henry's first contact with the X-Men—more like pouring boiling oil onto ice water. The outcome had been as disastrous as one would expect. Of course, that also had to do with the hostile circumstances of that first meeting.
Frankly, if this man weren't Nick Fury, and if he didn't stand behind S.H.I.E.L.D., then based purely on this first encounter, he'd be someone worth befriending.
Of course, it was also possible that all of this was carefully constructed theater meant to manipulate perceptions.
Regardless of which was true, Fury was right about one thing: if the Skrulls had inexplicably set their sights on him, Henry needed to deal with it. Following Fury's lead was likely the least exhausting solution.
So Henry said,
"Fury, I agree with your assessment. Can you briefly tell me what leads you have right now?"
Fury replied,
"The information may or may not be accurate, but the female target claims to be a member of a Kree Starforce unit. She stole a motorcycle here, along with a set of clothes from a nearby shop display.
"The main reason she came here was to use an internet café to look up information. I asked the attendant to check her browsing history—she searched for Pancho's Bar. I believe that's where we need to go."
"Do you know where that is?" Henry asked. His familiarity was limited to businesses in Los Angeles proper and airports across different states. A bar outside L.A. fell into his blind spot.
Fury glanced at Henry's car—it didn't match the one in the file.
"I know the location. But the way you obtained that car wasn't exactly legal, was it? How about riding with me?"
Henry laughed.
"Is your car friendly to my little cat?"
At that moment, sprawled in the back seat of the stolen clunker, Katie obligingly raised her tiger head and let out a roar.
"Okay—good kitty," Fury said dryly.
"You can drive that car and follow me. Once we head into the suburbs, we'll be under state police jurisdiction. Their response time isn't nearly as fast."
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