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Talos's face changed; he started to step forward.
Fury raised a hand to stop him.
He studied Skye with interest, a hint of admiration in his eyes.
"Agent Skye."
"Your suspicions are well-founded. Coulson taught you well—you learned to question authority."
"But you're too young."
Fury walked up to Skye until less than half a meter separated them.
"The World doesn't run on trust; it runs on leverage."
"I have the leverage to move the Skrullss, so I dare use them."
"As for the Secret Warriors program…"
Fury's eyes dimmed for an instant, then turned cold again.
"Secret Warriors—yes, I signed the order."
"But I didn't sell them out."
"I was protecting them!"
"I gathered them to give them shelter, to teach them to control their powers, to defend this World!"
"Just like Vought…"
"But later—Pierce used my authorization behind my back to transfer that roster. That failure is on me; I admit it."
"Yet I never treated them as merchandise!"
"I stand here now, half a wreck, to settle that debt."
Skye looked at Fury.
She could feel the man's rage was real.
Still, she couldn't let it go.
"That's your problem," she said coldly. "Even if every word is true, it doesn't change the fact that you blew everything up."
"And your habit of treating everything like chess pieces is sickening."
"If this is how S.H.I.E.L.D. operates—"
Skye unpinned the S.H.I.E.L.D. badge from her chest.
"—then I quit."
She dropped the badge; it rang on the floor, then turned to leave.
"Stop."
Fury's voice sounded behind her.
"What, going to kill me to shut me up?" She halted, hand on her wrist-device, mocking without looking back.
"No."
Fury lowered his voice.
"I simply think, Miss Daisy Johnson—"
"you ought to be nicer to me."
Skye's eyes widened; her body went rigid.
"W-what did you call me?"
Her voice trembled.
Daisy Johnson? What was that? A name?
She was an orphan, labeled 0-8-4 in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files. She'd searched her whole life for parents, for an identity.
No one had ever called her that.
"Daisy."
Fury repeated, a mysterious smile tugging at his mouth.
"Daisy Johnson—that's your real name."
"Or rather, the name you were born with."
Skye began to shake.
That name was the answer she'd hunted for over twenty years.
She'd hacked countless databases, combed endless archives, desperate to know who she was and where she came from.
Now the answer rolled casually off Fury's tongue.
"H-how do you know?"
"Of course I know."
Fury stepped slowly toward her.
"And if you want to uncover your past, you'll need the Skrullss' help."
"Because special blood flows in your veins."
His voice lengthened, like unsealing buried history.
"Long ago an alien race called the Kree came to Earth. They experimented on humans, trying to craft a super-biological weapon."
"They succeeded—and failed."
"They produced a group of super-powered mutants we call the Inhumans."
"And you, Daisy," he pointed at Skye, "are an Inhuman descendant."
"Inhumans… Kree…"
The terms felt too alien, too sci-fi—more absurd than HYDRA.
"But what have the Skrullss got to do with this?"
"Everything."
Talos spoke, his voice steeped in hatred.
"The Kree are our mortal enemies. They shattered our Planet, slaughtered our people, reduced us to cosmic strays."
"No one knows the Kree better—their genes, their tech, their lab rats."
Talos looked at Skye, eyes glinting.
"You carry the Kree scent."
"Only they can lead you to your parents, to where you came from—"
"and they… answer to me."
"Well?" Fury smiled like a trader. "Is that reason enough for you to play nice?"
Skye glanced at Fury, then at the green-skinned Talos beside him.
She wasn't stupid; Nick Fury never handed out charity.
He'd revealed this much, exposing secrets, only because he wanted something.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Simple."
Fury pointed skyward.
"I know you and Homelander are… acquainted."
"Homelander."
Skye's heart skipped; her fingers tightened around the watch on her wrist.
"I don't know what you're—"
"Cut the act." Fury interrupted. "I don't care if you're his lover or his S.H.I.E.L.D. mole; he's not my real enemy."
Skye neither confirmed nor denied; she simply watched him warily.
"What are you after? Planning to take him down?" she asked coldly. "If you want me to help you set up Homelander, you've got the wrong girl."
"No, no, no."
Fury wagged a finger.
"I'm not suicidal. Picking a fight with the star-spangled Superman in his prime would be begging for death."
"I just need you to be the middleman."
"Middleman?" Skye frowned.
"All you have to do is set up the introduction. No promises, just a meeting—one where he doesn't immediately slice me into pieces or hand me to the FBI."
Skye understood.
Nick Fury wanted to climb the strongest leg around.
In an age when Homelander towered over everything, no organization could stay on the board without going through Vought—and Homelander.
Her mind warred with itself.
On one hand she idolized and trusted Homelander; she hated the idea of using that bond to help this schemer.
On the other… "parents"—the lure of that word was overwhelming.
It was the answer she'd craved.
Skye exhaled a long breath.
At last—
"…I can't promise he'll agree," she murmured.
"Just deliver the message," Fury said.
"…Deal."
Skye lifted her head, eyes resolute.
"If you lie to me, Fury—"
"I'll have Homelander burn you to ash."
"Done."