Secret agents were known for their ruthless efficiency, and Maria Hill—one of the very best—embodied that reputation flawlessly.
Almost the very day Gilgamesh finished speaking, she had already brought in an engineering team. Not only were all the portraits of past presidents removed, but every piece of furniture was replaced with brand-new items. Even the damaged South Lawn was fully restored, and the Roosevelt statue had been removed and replaced with a life-size stone statue of Gilgamesh.
Such an ostentatious overhaul naturally ignited public discussion. Yet the FBI and S.H.I.E.L.D. had ordered the media to remain silent.
This attempt at suppression only inflamed curiosity. Rumors spread like wildfire, and soon the entire internet was consumed with speculation: just what had happened at the White House?
That day, Gilgamesh was quietly meditating—exploring the depths of his inner universe—when a black-clad agent approached and reported, "Sir, someone is waiting for you in the conference room. Do you wish to see them?"
"Who is it?"
Gilgamesh remained seated, eyes still closed.
"I'm sorry," the agent replied. "I wasn't authorized to ask."
Gilgamesh opened his eyes, irritation flaring as he rose to his feet. Even the highest-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. officials show me utmost respect. Who dares pull this kind of stunt?
"Take me to him."
The agent immediately gestured for him to follow. Soon they arrived at the conference room—large, empty, and holding nothing but a long table.
Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes, glaring at the agent with growing fury. "Are you playing games with me?"
The man stiffened under the killing intent rolling off Gilgamesh, as if a sudden blizzard had swept through the summer heat. Trembling, he bowed deeply. "Please calm down. This is a holographic meeting. You'll see the other party shortly."
Gilgamesh forced down his anger, curiosity slowly overtaking irritation, and took the main seat to see what this mystery visitor intended.
The agent, feeling as though he'd received a royal pardon, hurriedly drew the curtains to darken the room before activating the equipment. A moment later, several life-size holographic projections flickered into existence.
At the front stood a blond man in a silver suit, middle-aged, bespectacled, and looking every bit the composed leader.
"On behalf of the entire Hydra organization," he declared, dropping to one knee, "I offer my highest respect to the great God of Light."
The rest of the group followed, kneeling in unison.
Gilgamesh leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, amused. "All that secrecy… and it turns out to be Hydra."
Meanwhile, Maria Hill realized Gilgamesh had been gone for far too long. She approached a nearby agent and asked, "Where is the God of Light? Why hasn't he returned?"
"He went to the conference room," the agent replied. "You'd better not disturb him."
"The conference room?" Hill frowned. As the White House director, she should have been notified of any such meeting. Why hadn't she heard anything?
"Who's in the conference room?" she pressed.
"I'm sorry," the agent repeated, "I wasn't authorized to ask."
Acting on instinct, Maria Hill sensed something was off. Someone had bypassed her authority and met with Gilgamesh privately—someone ranked even higher than she did. But who could it be?
If it were Nick Fury, he would have contacted her. So if not Fury… then who outranked her?
She headed toward the conference room to investigate, but as she approached, two agents in black stepped forward, blocking her path.
"Ma'am, the God of Light is inside. You cannot enter."
Something is definitely wrong. Hill's suspicions deepened. She wanted to force her way in, but she also feared provoking Gilgamesh. If she angered him and he placed another curse on her, she would be in serious danger.
Better contact Nick Fury first.
Grinding her teeth, she turned away, leaving with barely contained resentment.
Inside the conference room, Gilgamesh looked down at the group kneeling before him, amusement flickering across his face. "I've heard a bit about your organization. Long ago there was a creature called the Hive who ruled Egypt and even attempted to conquer Midgard. He was chased off the planet like a rat by magicians who summoned divine spirits. His organization was called Hydra."
The high-ranking members—most newly appointed—glanced at each other in confusion. Only Arnim Zola understood. "The Hive was Hydra's founder, but that was ages ago. Things are different now."
"Oh?" Gilgamesh tilted his head, equal parts curious and dismissive. "Different how? Aren't you just rats hiding in the dark?"
Zola choked on his own breath at the blunt insult. Alexander Pierce hurried to smooth things over. "Great God of Light, even rats who've known despair and darkness naturally yearn for the light. We operate from the shadows, but we long to step into the open. And with the world in its current state… perhaps only you can lead us."
It was a well-crafted bit of flattery.
"So you want to join my ranks?"
"We humbly ask that you accept us," the group said, bowing their heads in unison.
Gilgamesh smiled—a deep, amused smile. He saw through them instantly. They were no different from Nick Fury: eager to pledge loyalty and secure an alliance with Asgard.
But the one-eyed man at least cloaked his intentions behind noble rhetoric about protecting the world.
These Hydra members were much more straightforward. Their ambitions were written plainly on their faces.
Unfortunately, even if these nobodies had acquired some power, they still weren't worth relying on.
At best, they might add a little entertainment to his stay on Earth.
"I can accept your allegiance," Gilgamesh said calmly, "but first, I want to see your sincerity." His tone was soft, but none of them dared to relax. They listened with absolute focus. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has the Avengers. I'm curious—what do you have?"
"We…" They exchanged glances. "We have advanced artificial intelligence, mass-produced Winter Soldiers…"
They began listing their proud achievements one after another, but to Gilgamesh, it all sounded like children playing pretend.
"Here's a hint," he said, lips curling into a wicked smile. He wanted the chaos on Earth to deepen.
"There's a South Korean scientist named Dr. Helen Cho. Her Regeneration Cradle, combined with your AI, can create biomechanical life. As for energy… use the Cosmic Cube. Break its outer shell and you'll find a gem inside."
His eyes gleamed with mischief.
"If you achieve results, I'll grant you a bright future. If you fail… don't bother coming back."
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