Nick Fury couldn't shake the feeling that something about Marcus's story didn't add up.
The man's words fit too neatly — too conveniently — yet there was no clear reason to call him out. After all, what proof could he possibly have? Marcus had claimed his "twin brother" was separated from him nearly eight years ago, back when he was a child. Any records from that time would be incomplete or long erased. There was nothing solid to disprove it.
Even if Fury wanted to look for a rational explanation, the most he could imagine was cloning — and even that was a stretch. It wasn't entirely wrong, of course. The truth — that Marcus had two physical bodies operating simultaneously — was not far from cloning in principle. But how could Fury ever prove that?
The idea that both men — the mysterious red-flamed warrior and Marcus himself — were actually one and the same was even harder to accept. During the Raft Prison assault, Marcus had been under S.H.I.E.L.D. surveillance the entire time. Not even teleportation could have allowed him to appear in two distant locations simultaneously.
And as for "duplication abilities"? Their powers were entirely different — one used crimson fire, the other metallic transmutation. It didn't fit any known superhuman pattern.
So Fury did what any rational man would do when faced with an irrational truth — he accepted the most illogical explanation that felt emotionally right.
Marcus's fabricated story, however unlikely, now seemed like the only plausible answer.
And that — to Fury's frustration — made it even more convincing.
Before Fury could ask anything more, Marcus suddenly raised his head and said calmly,
"Nick, I have a request."
Fury frowned slightly. "Go on."
"I want you to imprison me."
"What!?"
The room fell silent.
Everyone stared at Marcus in shock — most of all Captain America, who immediately stepped forward, gripping Marcus's shoulders in disbelief.
"Marcus, listen to me — whatever you've done, whatever's happened, it's in the past! You were forced into that life — you were a victim, not a criminal! You don't need to punish yourself for surviving."
Fury gently pulled Rogers back. "Easy, Cap. Let's hear his reason first. I don't think Marcus does anything without thought."
Marcus lowered his head, feigning deep conflict. And then — channeling the perfect, battle-worn tone of an actor — he began.
"I know I was forced into it," he said softly, "but that doesn't erase what I've done. Every person who died by my hand… I remember them. I can't pretend their blood isn't on me."
He paused — his gaze hollow and uncertain. "And there's something else. I can still feel it — the instincts of a killer. I tell myself I've changed, but deep down… I'm not sure I have. What if that man, my brother, stood before me and begged for my help? Would I hesitate — or would I fall back into the same darkness?"
His voice trembled. "I don't want to find out. Please… try to understand."
A hush fell over the room.
And then, from the corner, a clear and emotional voice broke the silence.
"Yes, I understand, Mr. Marcus."
All eyes turned toward Dr. Helen Cho, the only one who'd used his name properly. Her face was pale but resolute as she stood and clasped Marcus's hand tightly between her own.
"No matter what you think of yourself," she said passionately, "you are a hero. Evil men don't risk their lives to save others. They don't fear their own power. The fact that you do — that you'd rather be imprisoned than risk hurting someone — that's proof of your goodness!"
Her voice trembled near the end, her conviction raw and sincere.
It was only after realizing everyone was staring — with expressions ranging from amusement to surprise — that Helen flushed bright red. She muttered something unintelligible and hurried out of the room, nearly tripping over herself as she escaped down the hall.
Marcus watched her go, smiling faintly to himself. How predictable.
"She's right, Marcus," Captain America said firmly once the door closed. "You're not a bad man. You've risked too much to ever be mistaken for one."
Marcus gave a solemn nod — a perfect performance of quiet humility.
But the final decision, as always, rested with Nick Fury.
The director stood in silence, his one eye narrowing as he studied Marcus. Something about the man still didn't sit right. Why request imprisonment voluntarily? What was he trying to avoid — or conceal?
Was it guilt? Or fear of losing control?
Or perhaps… something else entirely.
Fury couldn't tell. But one thing was certain — it was safer to have Marcus contained where they could watch him.
"Alright," Fury said at last. "If you're worried about losing control, then we'll keep you here on the Helicarrier. There's one containment unit that might hold you — the same one we used for Loki."
Marcus bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, Director."
Fury nodded curtly. "You'll remain there until the New York operation is over. After that… we'll reassess."
Under armed escort, Marcus was led deep into the Helicarrier's restricted sector.
There, suspended in midair by four reinforced pillars, stood a massive cylindrical glass cell — the very same design once used to imprison the God of Mischief. The chamber was composed of reinforced polymer glass strong enough to withstand a full-force strike from Thor's hammer. It could also be jettisoned from the Helicarrier like a bomb pod — dropping any occupant thousands of feet to their death.
Marcus entered without resistance. The door sealed shut behind him, locking into place with a resonant hiss.
To the others, it was a sign of faith and restraint — a hero's self-imposed exile.
To Marcus, it was nothing but theater.
The "indestructible" glass walls might as well have been paper. His high-frequency blade could slice through them effortlessly. And even if he didn't wish to damage the chamber, there were simpler ways — remote control of the Helicarrier's system, or perhaps a gentle request to the right person.
Helen Cho, for example. A few soft words and a staged moment of vulnerability, and she'd release him without hesitation.
No — Marcus's request to be "imprisoned" had nothing to do with guilt or remorse.
It was strategy.
Just like Loki before him, Marcus intended to destroy the Helicarrier from within.
And this time, his plan would be far more devastating.
For this ship didn't just carry soldiers and weapons.
It carried nuclear warheads — enough to obliterate cities.
Once he took control, Marcus could redirect them all — not at his own army in Queens, but at the combined human forces preparing to strike him.
When Marcus stepped into that glass cell, the final piece of his infiltration fell into place.
By the time the Avengers and the military marched to war, their greatest weapon — and their greatest threat — would already be sitting right above their heads.
_____
T/N:
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