High above New York, thousands of meters in the air, a Helicarrier hid among the clouds. It had once crashed during battle, but Nick Fury had secretly ordered it rebuilt.
Now, at its center, the silver S.H.I.E.L.D. eagle emblem gleamed. The Helicarrier buzzed with activity, filled with elite agents and specialists. In the command room, Director Nick Fury stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out.
"Sir, they've arrived."
Maria Hill, Fury's trusted adjutant, stepped forward in her sharp S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. Her face was expressionless as she delivered the report.
Moments later, Agent Phil Coulson entered with his team.
"Sir, what's the mission?" Coulson asked, standing straight, his tone serious.
"New York is in crisis," Fury replied coldly, turning to face them. "I need your team to provide support. I'll also dispatch S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to assist you."
"New York?"
At the mention, Coulson's mind immediately went to Allens. He recalled the meteor incident—this new threat could rival the first New York invasion years ago.
"Sir… is it Allens?"
Daisy Johnson—formerly Skye—spoke up bitterly. Her bangs hid a scar on her forehead, a reminder of her hatred for Allens.
"Calm down, Daisy," Coulson cautioned, holding her back. He knew just how dangerous Allens was—the man who slaughtered the Inhumans and stole their powers.
"To be precise," Fury corrected, frowning, "this is Allens the Conqueror."
"Esper Allens?" Melinda May's tone was calm, but her eyes betrayed confusion.
"Superpowered Allens," Fury explained. "At this stage, he's comparatively weaker—only as strong as the abilities he's absorbed. If we unite, we might defeat him."
He didn't elaborate further. His point was clear: this mission was war, and S.H.I.E.L.D. would pay any price.
"Yes, sir."
Coulson saluted firmly, ready to leave and rally his people.
"Not necessary," Fury said. His single eye gleamed with resolve. "The entire Helicarrier is your team now."
Coulson froze. "Sir, this is the Helicarrier. You're the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. By protocol, you should be leading this operation."
"I gave you that title long ago," Fury replied flatly. "I still have other tasks. Don't let me down, Director Coulson."
His words stunned the room—Maria Hill included.
"Sir… you're not planning to run away, are you?" May asked bluntly, echoing what everyone was thinking.
"This is an order," Fury snapped. His face darkened. "And no—I'll be where I'm needed most, waiting for the one chance to turn the tide."
Without further explanation, he clapped Coulson on the shoulder and strode out of the room.
Coulson exhaled sharply. "We'll sort Fury's choices out later. Right now—Commander Hill, set course for New York."
"Yes, Director."
The Helicarrier groaned as its engines roared to life, banking hard toward the city. This was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most advanced warship—a flying fortress, almost a spaceship.
Onboard, agents armed themselves. Coulson had already issued a Level 10 combat order: defeat Allens at any cost.
"Sir, we're over New York now," Fitz reported from the control room, his face pale as his hands worked the controls.
"Lock onto Viken Avenue," Coulson ordered coldly. "Carpet bombing."
The room fell silent. Daisy Johnson's eyes widened. "Sir, there are civilians down there! You can't—"
Coulson's jaw tightened. "The world is at stake. If Allens isn't stopped, nothing will survive. This was Nick Fury's order."
Though his heart twisted at the thought, he knew the truth: sacrifices would be made.
"Commander Hill—contact the military," Coulson continued. Then, after a pause, "And reach out to Wilson Fisk."
Everyone stared at him in shock. The Kingpin of Crime? Coulson had to be insane.
But he didn't waver.
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