"Nick Fury was brutally murdered. Any reasonable person would see him as a martyr, not a traitor!"
Alexander Pierce spoke eloquently, standing in his office.
He was the picture of charm—his thick blond hair, old-fashioned round glasses, and well-tailored gray suit exuded the air of an efficient politician.
His expression betrayed nothing.
There was not a single trace of doubt or guilt on his face—as if he hadn't personally ordered Fury's assassination.
Instead, he acted as if he were just as frustrated as everyone else, leading the World Security Council to believe that he, too, had wanted to delay Project Insight.
"Do you know why he's being called a traitor?"
Councilman Powell Booth's holographic projection displayed the shiny glare of his bald head.
From the angle of the light, Pierce could tell Booth was in his office—he knew there was a window behind him where Washington's sunlight would shine directly in.
"Because he hired mercenaries to hijack his own ship!"
The World Security Council was full of bureaucrats.
Pierce had been dealing with bureaucrats since the days when reports were handwritten.
Manipulating them was his specialty.
Nick Fury's death provided him with a perfect opportunity.
For instance, he had leaked the news that "Nick Fury hired pirates to hijack S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Lemurian Star" through Council insiders.
Then, in the official reports, he carefully omitted key details.
The fools on the Council believed they had uncovered a massive conspiracy within S.H.I.E.L.D.
They would investigate—
And find exactly what Pierce wanted them to find.
Every discovery they made would be true.
Fury had hired mercenaries.
Fury had staged the hijacking.
Fury had attempted to delay Project Insight.
Now that Nick Fury was dead, there was no one left to contradict the story.
They could blame him for everything.
And because a former S.H.I.E.L.D. Director had been gunned down in Washington, the World Security Council would rush to push Project Insight forward—
If Nick Fury opposed it, then the Council would approve it.
If Nick Fury supported it, they would reject it.
Just like they had rejected his "freak party"—the Avengers.
Idiots.
Councilman Singh agreed with Pierce's assessment.
He then listed the consequences of Nick Fury's actions.
"Are you asking me to resign?"
Pierce asked casually.
He pretended not to care—
But, in truth, he really didn't.
His ambitions were far greater than a position in the U.S. State Department.
"I happen to have a pen and paper right here."
"We'll discuss that later."
Councilwoman Holly, the only female Councilmember, stopped the debate before it could spiral into pointless argument.
Everything was going according to Pierce's plan.
He had forced the Council to make a choice—
And he was about to play his final card.
"We have already discussed this, Secretary Pierce."
Booth smirked victoriously.
"The Council has officially approved the immediate reactivation of Project Insight."
"If you want to scream and protest, now's your chance."
Pierce fought back a smile.
Meanwhile…
"You're too conspicuous. Too British."
Natasha Romanoff gestured up and down at Solomon.
"You do realize that Americans don't dress this formally, right?"
"We need to blend into crowds to avoid getting caught."
"But you—"
"You look like you're headed to a ballroom gala."
"I don't own T-shirts or hoodies. That's a fact."
"And I've never worn them."
"Would you rather I wear a robe?"
Solomon was pleased.
Even Black Widow had no idea what was inside his wardrobe.
Not even S.H.I.E.L.D. knew how many anonymous images he had uploaded online.
His mastery of oil painting had made him legendary in certain circles.
Even his fans called him "teacher."
"I won't be going with you."
"I have classes to attend, ladies and gentlemen."
"Otherwise, I would've come to find you yesterday—when Nick Fury actually died."
"Where are you going?"
Steve Rogers asked.
"It's not that simple, Rogers."
Solomon sighed, pretending to justify his actions.
"My spells could slaughter entire armies."
"Their guns are toys to me."
He paused, as if giving them time to process his words.
"But I won't do that."
"I can't bring magic into mortal conflicts—at least, not directly."
"It is forbidden."
"This isn't New York."
This isn't London.
"This isn't a world-ending alien invasion."
"To Kamar-Taj, this is just another government power struggle."
"One that will fade with time—"
"Like all the others before it."
"So, my weapons are limited—"
"These two blades."
"And Diana's gun."
"I can only do so much."
"You already know what's on the USB drive, don't you?"
Romanoff's eyes narrowed.
She had sensed it—
Solomon had zero interest in the encrypted drive.
Even though she had told him it came from the Lemurian Star.
"What do you really know?"
Solomon looked at her.
This woman was too smart.
She had seen through part of his disguise.
But he was pleased.
He needed someone like Natasha Romanoff.
His Eternal City needed talent.
He needed spies.
Assassins.
For now, he would not create more artificial soldiers.
But if he failed to recruit enough talent…
He would have no choice.
Alchemy smelled like gold.
And Solomon's gold reserves were not infinite.
His biological labs and alchemy labs were the most expensive projects in the Eternal City.
Unlike other departments, these labs burned real gold—
Not dollars.
"I think you'll figure it out soon enough."
"My priority is to protect S.H.I.E.L.D.'s remaining forces."
But I never said whose pocket I'd put them in.
"With Fury dead, loyal agents are in danger."
"We need them to unravel the conspiracy."
"This isn't a one-man job."
"We need help."
Even Natasha had to admit—
It was a good idea.
"Who are you going to?"
She asked.
"Agent Victoria Hand."
"I trust her abilities."
Hours later, when Romanoff and Rogers saw Solomon again—
Everything had changed.
And Solomon had just finished a conversation.
"You knew everything?"
Steve Rogers glared.
Then, he looked at the man lying on the hospital bed.
"You too!?"
"I don't trust many people, Captain."
Even wounded, Nick Fury's mind and tongue were as sharp as ever.
He and Solomon had struck a deal—
A deal only Fury, Solomon, and Maria Hill knew about.
Meanwhile—
A black-painted assault transport descended upon a floating S.H.I.E.L.D. aircraft carrier.
The agents on board had already heard about Fury's assassination.
Paranoia gripped the ship.
When word from Washington arrived, it erupted into conflict.
The stealth field dropped—
The transport landed boldly on the carrier deck.
Victoria Hand stepped out—
Flanked by the Sisterhood's warriors.
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