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Fury's pen scratched across a notepad, fast and sure. He turned the sketch for May to see. "This him? Only thing that stood out last time were the flip-flops. He still wearing those?"
May studied the drawing, lips tightening. "That's him. But no—he had boots on."
A twitch of amusement pulled at Fury's mouth. Knew it. When the Kree cruiser came up short one body, he'd suspected Li Feng was still alive. Flip-flops to boots—what was that, a fashion statement? Or just a way to make Fury rewrite "Flip-Flop Guy" in the file as "Boots Guy"?
"Should we pull street cams, track where he went?" May asked.
"Of course," Fury said smoothly. "But this stays tight. Between us."
May nodded. "I'll frame it around the Inhuman. Maybe the cameras caught our… little belly."
"Smart cover," Fury said with a grin. "Though if Austin heard you call him that, he'd blow a gasket."
Her eyes sharpened. They knew each other—well enough that Fury knew exactly what would set him off. She dropped her voice. "So Austin's one of them too? Like the bone-spur freak? If he's going unstable, I need to find him before civilians get shredded."
Fury arched an eyebrow, then shook his head. "Maybe. Honestly? I'd prefer if he was Inhuman."
Because the alternative was worse.
Alien.
The reasons lined up like bullets in a chamber.
First: the missing weapons. After Carol carved her way through that Kree squad, plenty of their gear had simply vanished. Tech so alien half of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s labs couldn't switch it on without triggering biohazard alarms. But Li Feng had walked away with it. Either he knew how to use it—or knew someone who did.
Second: Talos. The Skrull swore no ships were unaccounted for, but Fury had doubts. Li Feng's trail had gone dark on that cruiser. If he'd lifted a fighter out? Who was going to prove it? No training, no flight hours—and yet maybe not human at all.
And third: the file. Li Feng, stamped "ordinary." Too ordinary. S.H.I.E.L.D. could trace a rat through eighteen generations of sewer tunnels. But this man? Nothing. Which meant either the file was smoke—or the man himself was wearing someone else's skin.
Someone who vanished when Fury spent resources to track him. Someone who reappeared in New York months later, casual as if nothing had happened.
Fury drummed his fingers against the table. Alien weapons, alien silence. Question was: which planet had sent him, and why Earth?
Still… he remembered the way Li Feng fought. Alone. Saving Talos. That mattered. Which was why Fury wasn't walking into this solo. He'd bring May. She had the edge and instincts to handle curveballs.
Moments later, May dropped a bundle of files in front of him. "One good news, one bad. Which first?"
"Bad," Fury said, rubbing his forehead. "Always bad."
"The bone-spur Inhuman? Vanished."
Fury cocked an eyebrow. "Vanished how?"
She slid the folder over. "Three-truck convoy. Prisoner chamber locked in the middle. When they rolled into the base? Empty. Guards gone too. No struggle. No alarms. Surveillance shows a smooth ride, start to finish."
Fury exhaled slowly. No DNA, no residue, nothing. He tossed the file aside. "Fine. Hit me with good."
"I tracked Austin," May said, voice low. "He's on the highway. RV. Looks like he's leaving New York."
Fury stood, gesturing her along. "That's your good news? Congratulations, you just signed me up for overtime." He paused mid-stride, remembering. "Wait—you said he ordered fried peanuts, sweet-and-sour ribs, and… what was the last one?"
"White-cut chicken," May replied.
At the doorway, Fury glanced at Coulson, who was covering the perimeter. "Grab me fried peanuts, ribs, and that chicken thing. May—white-cut chicken?"
"Boiled chicken," she admitted. "Comfort food. Usually with beer."
"Beer, then." Fury's voice dropped as he motioned her toward the car. "I've got an old friend to check in on. Need to hear his plans for Earth."
Sliding into the driver's seat, May raised an eyebrow. "Sir, I'm not a bartender. If you expect me to pour drinks while you chat, think again."
Fury rolled his eye. "Load your weapon. Last thing I need is another blindside."
She frowned. "Is that necessary? He's just one guy. Pudgy, at that."
Fury's tone went cold. "If I could, I'd roll in with a battalion. That man—you think he's just pudgy? This eye saw the truth before it went dark." He tapped his patch.
May smirked. "So it was him that cost you the eye. This whole thing's payback. Should've told me—I'd have charged hazard rates."
Fury didn't answer. He pulled a folded dossier from his coat instead. Li Feng's photo stared up at them, with a bio so thin it may as well have been blank.
May snorted. "Worth carrying around like that? Don't tell me he stole your girlfriend."
"If he did," Fury said flatly, forming a finger-gun, "one bullet solves that problem."
May let out a low whistle. "Sir, I'm starting to think I should hop out now. This job doesn't sound simple."
Fury leaned back, calm as stone. "Depends on luck. Last time we worked together, it turned out fine."
May narrowed her eyes but said nothing more. She'd seen enough to know—this "Austin," this Li Feng, was dangerous. And the fact S.H.I.E.L.D.'s file said otherwise only made the danger sharper.
Highway blacktop stretched endless in the late sun. Li Feng had no idea which road he was on—just that it was empty enough to feel like escape. Destination? Undecided. Maybe somewhere quiet to crack open the spoils of his last dimensional run: Solomon's spells, the Ancient One's tweaks to his dark magic, or the demon curled inside his scroll—ripe for interrogation.
He hummed off-key, pulled his RV into a gas station, and ducked into the convenience store with his shoulder bag. Stomach growling, he raided the snack aisle like a man who hadn't eaten since Chinatown—which was true.
Outside, Melinda May eased her sedan to a stop, eyes locking on the RV. "Sir. Orders?"
Fury stepped out, adjusting his collar. His voice stayed low over comms. "You stay put. If it goes south, call HQ. Get jets in the air."
May blinked, incredulous. "Jets? For one guy? Why not tanks while you're at it?"
Fury's eye narrowed. "If it comes to that—call tanks."
May's grip tightened on her pistol. World War levels of caution for one pudgy Chinese guy? But Fury wasn't exaggerating. If Austin—if Li Feng—was alien, this could be invasion protocol.
Fury strolled to the RV, picked the lock with the ease of long practice, and slipped inside to wait.
Minutes later, Li Feng returned with a case of canned beer under one arm. He dropped it and his bag in the passenger seat, slid into the driver's spot—
—cold steel pressed to the back of his skull.
His eyes narrowed. Defensive wards whispered alive even as he checked the mirror.
Fury sat there, gun leveled, smirk cutting sharp. "Long time, Austin. A certain green friend said to say hello."
Li Feng's shoulders eased. He raised a middle finger. "Watch that trigger. You kill me like this, I go down as the idiot who died in a parking lot."
He grinned. "Which green one? The guy who rigged a jet with a hammer and a screwdriver? You called him a natural engineer."
Fury's jaw unclenched—confirmation. Still, he didn't lower the weapon. He produced cuffs, tossed them forward. "Last time, you said it wasn't the right moment to explain yourself. Guess what? Moment's here. Who are you?"
Li Feng hooked the cuffs onto the rearview like a tacky ornament. "Classy silver bracelet. Thanks for the gift."
Fury pushed the gun harder against his skull. "Enough jokes. Answer me. And yeah—I brought a real gift. It's on its way."
Li Feng turned, incredulous. "Nick Fury bringing gifts? The Nick Fury I know only knows how to take. Who are you really?"
A vein pulsed at Fury's temple. He nearly squeezed the trigger. "I'm Fury. And Talos sends his regards."
Li Feng squinted toward the sun. "Must be dreaming. Sun's rising in the west."
In the sedan, May listened through Fury's comm, baffled. Fury trusted this man—but the words—alien, identity, secrets—pointed to something far bigger.
Ignoring the pistol, Li Feng rummaged in his bag, pulled out a warped USB drive, the casing half-melted. "Speaking of gifts—got one for you."
Fury eyed it. "That didn't come from RadioShack. You bring it down from orbit?"
Li Feng blinked, then snorted. "Orbit? Please. You think I'm an alien?" He pinched his cheek. "Earth-made skin. No mods."
Fury clicked off his comm—too dangerous to let this spill. "Then tell me how you got back from orbit. And don't say you jumped."
Li Feng tossed him the drive. "Jump, I'd be roadkill. Steam-ready."
He eyed Fury's shattered comm and smirked. "You came solo? No strike team? Should I feel flattered—or should I start looking for the sniper outside?"
Fury weighed the drive. "What is this? Battery acid sample? Or did you breathe on it?"
Li Feng scratched his head. Okay, so he had tested it with spell shielding in his mouth during a portal hop. Not his most sanitary moment.
"It's data," he said. "Mad scientist tier. Step-by-step resurrection notes. Bring a corpse back, mind blank. They wake up not knowing if they're even male or female."
Fury stared, stone-faced. "Resurrection. Right. You expect me to believe this isn't alien tech? Hell, why not call it the key to godhood? Drive's half-corroded—you could claim anything."
"Don't believe me?" Li Feng expanded a shrunken spellbook from his pocket, flipped it open, and shoved a page under Fury's nose. "Black and white. Frankenstein's field manual. Now holster the damn gun—you're killing the vibe."
Instinct screamed at Fury. Li Feng wasn't bluffing. Slowly, he holstered the pistol and scanned the text. He'd know soon enough if it was smoke.
The RV door slammed open. May stormed in, pistol drawn. "Sir, are you—"
"Holster it, Melinda." Fury's tone cut steel, eyes still locked on the book. "Call Coulson. I need him here with medical specialists. Now."
May froze. Melinda. He never used her first name unless it was dead serious. She lowered her gun, jaw tight.
"Yes, sir," she said, already dialing.
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