Nick Fury's single eye scanned the monitor line by line.
The client list from William Rodriguez was magnified several times by him.
It was as if every pixel hid a shocking secret.
"Mrs. Martha's cat, claim for thirty-two dollars... Hmm, thirty-two, the thirty-second President Franklin Roosevelt. What secrets does he have? Is this cat, perhaps, Roosevelt's cat reincarnated?"
Fury's finger slid across the screen.
He tapped on "Little Jimmy broke a window, claim for one hundred twenty-three dollars."
"One-two-three, Red Light, Green Light? No, this is some kind of serial number, an activation code? Is this Jimmy, perhaps, the grandson of President Jimmy Carter who's always running around?"
Maria Hill walked in, carrying a cup of coffee.
Watching Director Fury conduct a strategic-level analysis of a trivial claims list, her mouth twitched involuntarily.
"Officer, Stark's latest quarterly energy consumption report is out. It's up four percent from last quarter. Does it require special attention?"
Hill tried to steer the conversation back to normal.
Fury didn't even look up: "Put energy consumption aside for now. This 'Anxiang Duxingzhe (Dark Alley Walker),' night security, equipment wear and tear. What equipment? A flashlight or night vision goggles? Or, some kind of black technology we don't know about? Where does the 'dark alley' he protects lead? To Hell's Kitchen's secret ingredient supplier?"
Hill: "The report says his flashlight broke three times and his baton broke twice. He might just be an unlucky security guard."
Fury pointed to Chain Bro and Slingshot Kid.
"Scrap yard manager, urban extreme sports enthusiast. These professions sound like some kind of cover. Are there alien spaceship parts hidden in the scrap yard? Are the extreme sports for testing some kind of anti-gravity device?"
Hill put down her coffee.
"Officer, I think... this person, William Rodriguez, might really just be an insurance salesman. A particularly successful insurance salesman. His clients... are just a bit special."
Fury finally looked up, his single eye fixed on Hill: "'Just'? Hill, the word 'just' in our dictionary usually means the prelude to 'big trouble.'"
"Stark trusts him. The last person this guy trusted was roasted to a crisp. And those few in Hell's Kitchen... what do they have in common?"
He suddenly stood up, his hands clasped behind his back.
Like a Beast trapped in an invisible cage, he paced back and forth restlessly on the floor.
Fury's voice was low, with a hint of hoarseness:
"Common ground? They're all leading double lives, all desperately hiding their other side! And this Rodriguez, he's not selling some damn insurance; he's selling a fig leaf that can cover all secrets!"
Hill calmly reminded him:
"But from the results, he hasn't shown malice. He helped resolve Stark's palladium poisoning crisis, and the tempers of those in Hell's Kitchen have calmed down considerably because of him. From a risk management perspective, he currently seems more like a... beneficial variable?"
Fury suddenly stopped, a cold glint flashing in his single eye: "Beneficial? Hill, today's beneficial variable could become tomorrow's out-of-control disaster! I must dig out what he's really trying to do, what trump card he's holding!"
He walked to the main console and pulled up an encrypted communication channel.
"We need to send someone over, a new face he's never seen, someone who can make him completely drop his guard and only see her as another premium client coming his way."
Hill: "Do you have someone in mind?"
Fury's lips curled into a cold arc, much like the villains he'd personally sent to prison.
"A candidate? Of course. S.H.I.E.L.D. never lacks those darlings whose resumes are so impressive they make you doubt their actual abilities, perfect for executing these 'people-friendly' missions."
He pressed the communicator, his voice devoid of emotion: "Have Morse come see me."
Inside a coldly lit briefing room in the Triskelion.
Barbara "Bobbi" Morse.
Codename "Mockingbird."
She stood motionless before Nick Fury, like a drawn blade.
A well-tailored gray business suit skirt encased her powerful body.
Her long golden hair was meticulously pinned back, not a single strand daring to escape control.
A formal smile graced her face, perfectly flawless, yet also like a layer of ice, exuding an aloofness that kept people at a distance.
From this moment on, her identity was "Barbara Miller," a high-end risk investment consultant operating in the gray areas.
Fury's voice broke the silence: "Your target, William Rodriguez."
"His apparent profession is an insurance salesman, but his client list is more troublesome than my receding hairline."
As Fury operated the controls.
William Rodriguez's data flashed across the main screen.
Immediately after, familiar yet troublesome faces like Tony Stark and Matt Murdock popped up one after another.
Next to each avatar was a red "Associated" symbol.
Fury tapped the screen.
"Stark solved his palladium poisoning because of him and even created a new element. That 'Daredevil' in Hell's Kitchen has been going easier lately, and guess what? It's said to be because he bought a damned worker's compensation insurance policy."
"So your assessment is that he himself is a superhuman, using the insurance business to secretly recruit or even control other superhuman vigilantes?"
Fury slowly shook his head, deep thought in his single eye.
Fury denied: "No, not control, more like sowing. He's putting collars on those lone wolves, making them feel that no matter how much they struggle, if they get hurt or fail, someone will back them up."
"Think about it, which would cause more damage to the order we've established: an emboldened superhuman vigilante or a desperate one?"
Fury's question caused a slight pause in Bobbi's formal smile.
Fury's single eye was as sharp as a knife.
"So your mission is not to arrest, not to interrogate, but to get insured. Use your 'Barbara Miller' identity to approach him, become his client."
"I want you to find out if he's selling ordinary financial products or a power we don't yet understand! I want to know the boundaries of his abilities, his ultimate goal, and if there's anyone else behind him!"
"Understood, Officer."
"Remember, Morse,"
Fury's tone was unprecedentedly serious.
"This guy is very persuasive; even an egomaniac like Stark can be handled by a few words from him. Don't be fooled by his sweet talk."
"Your cover identity is perfect, 'Barbara Miller,' an elite who handles dirty work for the wealthy. This identity will make him interested in you, but also keep him wary. Go, make him willingly sign an insurance policy for you."