As night fell, New York City blazed with lights like a beast awakened from a nightmare. Neon flared in vibrant colors, painting the tranquil darkness with a dazzling glow.
S.H.I.E.L.D., Tri-Carrier—Tri-Wing Building.
Bright light spilled through the windows, cutting into the night. The faint silhouettes of agents—men and women clutching files—rushed about in a constant flow.
As a global intelligence agency, S.H.I.E.L.D. processed countless reports each day. Truth and lies mixed like sand and gold, demanding sharp minds and experienced hands to sift, verify, and judge.
Thus, those qualified to work within S.H.I.E.L.D. were all top-tier professionals in their fields.
Unfortunately…
Just how many of those people actually belonged to S.H.I.E.L.D. was an unanswered question.
And this was Nick Fury's greatest concern.
Tri-Wing Building — Rooftop Balcony
Nick Fury stood alone beneath the star-strewn sky, a touch of melancholy flickering in his single eye. Few knew that Frank Castle—the Punisher—had been one of his closest friends. Yet two months ago in Hell's Kitchen, Frank had died right before him… slain by the so-called God of Light, Gilgamesh.
Even now, the thought filled Fury with unbearable rage.
The Punisher's methods had been extreme, yes… but he had fought relentlessly against the darkness, a lone spark in endless night—small, yet always offering hope to the hopeless.
And now—
He was dead.
His head kicked into the dirt by that damned, filthy, despicable god.
Nick Fury had lived through betrayals, cruelty, life, and death countless times. But never—never—had he hated anyone as much as he hated him.
Leaning on the balcony railing, he glared at the glowing New York skyline, as if trying to pierce the distance and see that arrogant god seated on high in the White House.
"Just you wait, you golden-haired alien bastard… Sooner or later, I'll make sure you die on Earth."
"Who exactly are you planning to kill on Earth?"
A soft, teasing female voice sounded behind him.
Natasha Romanoff—Black Widow—stepped onto the balcony, wearing a dark-blue, form-fitting combat suit. Her long wine-red hair framed a dangerously beautiful face, and her effortlessly seductive figure could make any man swallow hard.
"I thought you were still in your office, but you were nowhere to be found," she said as she approached, stopping beside him at the railing. Her large eyes blinked mischievously. "If it weren't for the reflection off your bald head, I might've missed you entirely."
Nick Fury's face instantly darkened. "Has anyone ever told you that you're very beautiful?"
"Plenty of people," Natasha replied with a smug smile. As a woman, she couldn't help but enjoy the compliment—after all, beauty appreciates beauty.
But Nick Fury's next sentence instantly froze the smile on her face.
"It's a pity you only have a mouth."
"You—!"
Seeing her slightly angered expression, Fury smirked with satisfaction. Not wanting to continue bickering, he shifted the topic and said, "What do you want this time? And don't bring up field missions again. You know very well that, in your current condition, you're only cleared for desk work."
"I'm not here for myself." The moment work was mentioned, Natasha's demeanor sharpened. "Thor has retrieved his new weapon. I heard it's an axe called Stormbreaker. According to Stark's test data, the current Thor can take on at least two or three versions of his old self."
"But he still can't beat Gilgamesh, can he?"
Fury's sudden interjection silenced Natasha at once. As the king of intelligence operatives, he never acted without meticulous planning. Without a complete strategy and multiple contingencies, he would never risk confronting Gilgamesh.
After all, according to the psychologist's assessment, if they failed this time… there would be no third chance.
You couldn't always expect a bald sorcerer to come bail you out every time.
As the two were speaking, a shooting star suddenly streaked across the sky, carving a long trail of flame behind it…
Natasha had only glanced lazily at first—until she realized something was off. She raised her head, staring at the quiet night sky with widening eyes.
"…Did that shooting star just get bigger?"
"What?" Nick Fury looked up as well. In the distance, a blazing white comet was cutting across the dark heavens, its trajectory curving sharply as it flew straight toward them.
The object was impossibly fast. In the blink of an eye, it had already reached the airspace above the Tri-Wing Building.
Natasha squinted, focusing intently—there was something inside the light—
…Was that a person?
But… how could that be?
Just as confusion rose in her chest, Nick Fury suddenly waved his arms wildly beside her and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"HEY—HERE! I'M HERE! HAHAHAHA! CAROL, OVER HERE!!"
He jumped and flailed on the balcony with unrestrained excitement.
Natasha could only stare at him, dumbfounded. In her memories, Nick Fury had always been solemn, composed, and serious to the point of stiffness. She had never seen him laugh so openly—let alone dance.
What in the world…?
Carol?
Does this 'meteor' know him?
Just how many secrets is this man hiding?
Hearing his call, the meteor-like light abruptly accelerated, arriving above the Tri-Wing Tower in mere seconds.
Only then did Natasha see the figure clearly—wrapped in radiant white energy, a person in a gold-and-blue tight combat suit hovered effortlessly in midair, eyes glowing pure white. The aura was overwhelming, divine, and terrifyingly powerful.
It was none other than Nick Fury's strongest trump card—
Captain Marvel, Carol Danvers.
"Long time no see, Nick. I rushed here the moment I got your message. I'm glad you're still alive."
Descending gracefully onto the balcony like a goddess, Carol dispelled the surrounding light and embraced Fury, who had already opened his arms wide.
"How have you been these years? You've… aged quite a bit."
Her voice softened as she whispered into his ear, and Fury answered with a laugh choked by emotion.
"You haven't changed at all."
He didn't even realize that his eyes were already misty. He had met Carol when he was still young and unknown. They survived crisis after crisis together… then parted ways—only to be separated for decades.
Time had shaped them both. One had become the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., the man who pulled the strings behind global affairs; the other had become the universally feared and respected Captain Marvel.
Right now, Fury felt both overwhelming joy and an immense weight lifting off his shoulders.
With Carol here… what did he have to fear from a mere traitor?
Even two or three of them wouldn't matter.
Of course… it must be said—
With Captain Marvel backing him up, Fury was getting a little too confident.
Someone really needed to drag him back to reality with a well-deserved beating.
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