This could not be reported to Daisy, because Daisy would definitely ask why the other side had contacted him and no one else. Jasper Sitwell could hardly admit that his reputation for fearing death and always keeping an escape route had already spread far and wide. He still hoped to maintain the image of a loyal, unyielding subordinate in front of his boss.
His solution was simple: take twenty fully armed S.H.I.E.L.D. Strike Team agents to the meeting.
Still, he ordered the team to follow in secret. What if it really was Whitehall who wanted to see him? A trace of uncertainty remained in his heart.
But once he reached the meeting place and saw the contact waiting for him, Sitwell's final doubts vanished.
A Black man was waiting to make contact? What a joke. Whitehall was a staunch believer in Aryan racial purity. He looked down on plenty of white people, so how could he possibly use a Black man as a subordinate?
Still, Sitwell was an agent, and that gave him some confidence. The Black man reeking of cigarette smoke did not seem much of a threat, so Sitwell calmly followed him inside.
Inside an abandoned factory, he saw the person who had asked to meet him—or rather, a vague silhouette. To heighten the pressure, Pierce had remained in the shadows the entire time, hoping to intimidate him psychologically.
"You're the one who wanted to see me? You're not Dr. Whitehall." The factory was poorly lit, and Pierce was standing in shadow, so Sitwell failed to recognize his former superior at first.
"That's right, Jasper..." Pierce did not even finish speaking before he felt a violent impact. His hand instinctively went to his chest, and only then did he realize what had happened: he had been shot. Blood poured from the wound as his life rapidly drained away.
Pierce stared furiously at Sitwell, whose gun barrel was still trailing a faint wisp of smoke. How did this bastard dare shoot him?
All strength left Pierce's body. His knees buckled and he dropped directly to the floor. Not far away, Sitwell was already running as he shouted, "Open fire!"
The S.H.I.E.L.D. Strike Team had been lying in ambush outside. Their weapons immediately poured fire into the factory. Several Black men were hit and fell one after another, dying without ever understanding what sort of battle they had been dragged into.
Even the Winter Soldier reacted a beat too slowly after being caught off guard. He returned fire in haste, suppressing several men with his superb marksmanship, then dragged the blood-soaked Pierce behind a wall. Bullets hammered the wall and shattered glass around him, pinning him down completely for the moment.
I'm going to die. Pierce knew that much. The bullet had struck a vital area, and with his age and failing strength, he would not last long.
What a pity. All his careful schemes had ultimately come to nothing.
His vision grew darker and darker. Then Pierce suddenly became lucid. He could not simply die like this. Forcing himself to stay conscious, he squeezed out a little strength and thought desperately. Before long, a clever idea came to him.
"Soldier, remember my final order. Retreat. Leave this place. Go recover your own memories..." After saying that, Pierce lost the last of his strength. He lay quietly on the concrete floor, his thoughts still fixed on his plan. Winter Soldier, Captain America, Iron Man... heh. Putting those three together would definitely be interesting. It was only a shame he would never get to see it.
Ten minutes later, Daisy arrived. Once Sitwell realized that he had shot his old boss dead, he could no longer handle the situation on his own. He had no choice but to call in his new boss to clean up the mess.
Vulture had been trading blows with the S.H.I.E.L.D. Strike Team, but the moment he saw the Winter Soldier bolt, he prepared to run as well.
Unfortunately, this man seemed cursed to be one step slow in everything he did. He was one step slow again. Daisy teleported in just as he was about to flee, lifted a finger, and caught him instantly with magnetic control.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. Strike Team agents knocked Vulture unconscious in a few quick moves. If Daisy had not stopped them, the highly talented engineer would have been shot in the head.
"I still have a use for that man. Split into two teams and secure the perimeter. Mr. Sitwell, tell me exactly what happened."
Sitwell did not dare hide anything and recounted how Pierce had tried to lure him in. Naturally, in his version of events, he had merely come to take a look and had never, ever entertained even the slightest thought of defecting to Whitehall.
Daisy barely managed to keep from laughing. Comrade Pierce had truly been unlucky. He had thought his plan was excellent, but he had foreseen the opening and completely failed to anticipate how it would end. That was true of everything, including doing bad things: first place took all the rewards, while second place had to depend on luck. Director Pierce, currently lying on the floor, had clearly not been very lucky.
"Mr. Sitwell, you killed one of Hydra's important leaders. You?" Daisy lowered her head to inspect Pierce's wound without turning around.
But her words terrified Sitwell. Run! His first instinct was to run, but he knew he could not get away. He had personally seen Daisy's unpredictable teleportation. No matter how far he fled, it would be useless.
Sitwell's face collapsed. He sank to his knees in a daze, no longer caring how much dust and blood might stain his designer suit. He had completely lost the ability to think. He had killed a major Hydra leader?!
Defying one's superior was taboo even in an ordinary criminal gang. In Hydra, it was far worse.
Sitwell was scared out of his wits, and even breathing became difficult.
Daisy decided she had frightened him enough and did not make things too difficult for this cowardly, death-fearing fellow. After all, he had been the first famous Marvel character she had ever met. That made him somewhat special to her.
"I'll take the pressure from Hydra for you. Old Pierce is dead anyway. But you were the one who killed him, so you'd better stay away from Hydra gatherings for a while."
In Daisy's view, someone as timid as Sitwell was much better suited to quietly handling administration, acting like a chief steward or office manager. Why on earth had he gotten mixed up with Hydra?
She carefully examined Pierce's corpse. His heart, brain, frequency, and mental activity all indicated that he was dead. This was not Tetrodotoxin B or some similar drug creating a false death.
Still not entirely reassured, she sat beside Pierce's body for another half hour. There was not the slightest heartbeat. Only then did she confirm that he was completely dead.
Daisy turned away and began making calls.
Nick Fury and Hill from S.H.I.E.L.D., the heads of several major intelligence agencies, senior White House officials responsible for domestic security, and senior officials from the Pentagon, the State Department, Congress, and other departments were all summoned to the scene.
Fury had expected something like this. Too many old comrades had already left, and he had grown numb to it. After asking a few simple questions, he said no more. He knew the others would interrogate the details soon enough.
The various intelligence agencies then went over the entire incident four or five times. Daisy left Sitwell to answer every question. He had done it, and he had killed Pierce. Daisy only needed to shoulder Hydra's pressure afterward.
Sitwell felt a faint thrill when he saw the heads of the intelligence agencies wearing sorrowful expressions while secretly rejoicing. But the moment he noticed Fury's gaze and the looks from the many Hydra members present, he immediately calmed down. Better to cling tightly to Daisy's powerful protection from now on.
Everyone examined the body in turn. Pierce, a longstanding headache for many senior officials, was truly and completely dead.
They offered a few words of consolation to the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel, solemnly declared Pierce's death a loss to the nation and its people, then took their leave one by one.