"Nice work, boss," Clint Barton muttered. "That speech had teeth. One of the best I've heard."
"That's not enough," Nick Fury snorted, his lone eye hard with killing intent. "Pierce has been cultivating SHIELD for decades. You think a radio address alone topples a snake like that?"
He tapped the pistol at his hip.
"My real objective is to use the chaos to get onto the Helicarriers and swap the algorithm chips."
"So we go now?" Barton asked.
"No. First—the Agent Operations Command." Fury turned. "That's where SHIELD's sharpest strike teams are. Hill's there. If we secure that room, we control the board."
Fury was confident.
Maria Hill would back him. Most of the response teams were handpicked by him. With his presence alone, even Hydra interference wouldn't be enough to tip the scales.
-----
At the Same Time — Communications Core
A senior systems supervisor was sorting through incoming intel when a red URGENT window slammed onto the main display.
He opened it.
Vought News Network—global live feed.
"What the hell…?" He snapped on his headset. Two seconds later his eyes went wide.
"Cut this to all channels!" he yelled. "Every screen—Operations Command included—now!"
….
Fury and Barton had just reached the doors when the massive video wall flickered.
All internal feeds were overridden. The VNN logo filled the screens.
"Wait," a technician shouted. He stared at the display like he'd seen a ghost. "Director Fury—you need to see this."
On-screen, a blond, blue-eyed anchor spoke with breathless urgency:
"—This is Vought News Network with breaking global coverage!"
"Moments ago, Homelander led the Super Seven in a lightning assault on a hidden Hydra black site!"
The feed cut to the scene.
Amid smoking rubble, Antony supported a terrified, disheveled elderly man—one of the World Security Council delegates. Behind him, Jessica Jones and Pietro Maximoff escorted the other three delegates to safety.
They were shaken. Dirty. But alive.
"Thank God—thank Homelander," the British delegate said, voice trembling. "We thought… we'd never see daylight again."
A reporter pushed the mic closer. "Councilor Rockwell—who abducted you? What did they want?"
Rockwell's jaw tightened. "Hydra. Hydra agents embedded inside SHIELD."
Fury's mouth curled into a thin smile.
"Hmph. That golden bastard may be insufferable, but at least he did the job."
Then Rockwell said the next line.
And it felt like liquid nitrogen dumped straight down Fury's spine.
"They kidnapped us to threaten us—force us to vote against Project Insight at the upcoming Council session."
Fury froze.
"What?!" Barton blurted.
On-screen, Rockwell continued, fury building:
"Those Hydra thugs fear Project Insight! They know once the Helicarriers launch, their global terror network will be wiped out!"
"They tried to sabotage humanity's future with blackmail!"
"And here—" Rockwell held up a dust-smeared document. "—the four of us have completed authorization."
"The Council has passed Project Insight with nine votes!"
"Immediate execution approved!"
"Anyone who attempts to stop the Helicarriers is a Hydra accomplice—an enemy of all mankind!"
Another delegate leaned into frame, adding the killing detail:
"The Hydra commander guarding us boasted before fleeing—said even if the vote passed, it wouldn't matter. Because they'd already sent a 'trusted old friend,' someone who knows SHIELD inside and out… to sabotage the Helicarrier algorithms from within."
The feed froze.
Every clue. Every narrative thread.
Locked perfectly into place.
Hydra opposes Project Insight.
Nick Fury opposes Project Insight.
Nick Fury is currently sabotaging SHIELD from the inside.
Therefore—
Nick Fury is Hydra.
"Motherf—" Fury rasped, throat burning like he'd swallowed hot coals.
"Boss…" Barton swallowed hard. "We've been played. Those delegates… they're Hydra assets?"
"I know," Fury snarled. He drew his pistol and bolted. "Damn it—move! Operations Command, now!"
"Hill's there. She's smart. She'll see through this."
…
Agent Operations Command
The doors burst open.
"Hill! Mobilize the response teams! Don't listen to that news—"
Fury stopped cold.
The vast circular command hall—normally alive with motion and noise—was silent.
Hundreds of technicians and agents froze mid-task.
Every pair of eyes turned to the doorway.
To Nick Fury.
No respect.
No trust.
Only suspicion.
Maria Hill stood at the command dais, hands braced on the console, her expression painfully conflicted.
"Sir…" Her voice was dry. "…I think we need to talk."
"Hill, you don't buy that bullshit, do you?" Fury strode forward, trying to impose sheer presence. "Pierce set this up! Those delegates are lying!"
"Lying?" A technical chief stood abruptly, pointing at the main screen.
"Then explain the timing. You broadcast—and minutes later the delegates are rescued, and they accuse your sabotage. That's not coincidence."
"It's a setup!" Fury roared. "Pierce is Hydra!"
"Evidence?" Hill asked quietly.
She tapped her tablet.
"Secretary-General Pierce just transmitted Council orders. Effective immediately."
She met Fury's eye.
"Your arrest. Charges: terrorist activity."
Fury's fist clenched.
"Motherf—"
--------------
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