The news of Nick Fury's ambush and apparent death spread through S.H.I.E.L.D. like wildfire.
No one could believe it.
Nick Fury—who had commanded S.H.I.E.L.D. for over a decade, who had stood unshaken through alien invasions, Hydra uprisings, and covert wars—had he really fallen?
And if so… who did it?
To make matters worse, Deputy Director Maria Hill had vanished without a trace.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was in freefall, suddenly leaderless and chaotic.
"How could this happen? Did Fury really die just like that?"
"Who's behind this?!"
"Has anyone traced the attackers?"
"I heard the acting director is pouring all resources into the Insight Program…"
Inside the corridors of the Triskelion, whispers surged like a rising tide. But Agent Clint Barton—better known as Hawkeye—sensed something deeper was wrong. Very wrong.
"Agent Barton," a familiar voice called out.
Rumlow stepped forward, his tone relaxed but hiding something sharper. "The minister would like your input on the Insight Program. Given your elite sharpshooting skills, he figured you'd have some... insights."
"Me?" Barton raised an eyebrow, suspicious.
But with no real excuse to refuse, he stepped into the elevator with Rumlow.
More agents joined them on each floor. The elevator became crowded. Barton's unease grew with every ding of the floor counter.
Then, without warning, Rumlow spoke, voice low and steely.
"This isn't personal, Barton. Just fate. We each serve our true masters."
Boom!
The fight erupted in the cramped elevator, fast and brutal.
But this time, it wasn't Captain America holding the line—it was Hawkeye. And while Barton was a hell of a fighter, he wasn't Steve Rogers. Surrounded, outnumbered, and ambushed, he fought like hell—but was eventually overpowered, knocked unconscious, and dragged to a detention cell.
All across the Triskelion, a silent coup was underway.
Agents loyal to the old guard were captured or executed on the spot.
Hydra, hiding behind S.H.I.E.L.D. masks, had made its move.
__
"JARVIS," Tony Stark's voice crackled with urgency as he watched the chaos unfold via a hidden backdoor he'd once programmed into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s system. "What the hell is going on at the Triskelion?!"
The AI replied instantly, "Sir, multiple breaches have been detected. Hostile factions within S.H.I.E.L.D. are engaging in armed conflict. Two helicarriers have launched."
"Two?" Stark's voice dropped.
One of them—commandeered by Hydra operatives.
The other—manned by loyalists, led by Agent Coulson.
The sky over New York exploded into war.
High above the skyline, twin S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarriers rained fire upon each other. Dogfights broke out between fighter jets. One crashed into the Triskelion's facade with a thunderous impact. Civilians screamed and scattered across the city.
The citizens of New York had barely begun recovering from the Kree invasion, and now… this?
"What the hell is going on?!"
"Aliens again?!"
"Is this a war?!"
In a school bus filled with students, panicked voices filled the air as kids stared out the windows, pointing at the battle in the sky.
"It's a spaceship war!"
In the corner, a quiet teen in a hoodie didn't react—Peter Parker, a.k.a. Spider-Man, already knew what was happening. His spider-sense wasn't even tingling.
Because this?
This was planned. By his commander.
"Hmph. Never seen a spaceship dogfight before?" the bus driver grumbled, unimpressed by the kids' screams.
__
In Washington, Secretary Gates was fuming in his office.
"This is madness!" he roared. "What the hell is S.H.I.E.L.D. doing?!"
Inwardly, his heart bled.
The helicarriers—once the crown jewel of his military dreams—were now dueling in the skies like children fighting over toys.
"Deploy the army!" he barked at his aide. "I want boots on the ground now. I want to know what those damn agents think they're doing!"
__
At the very top of the Triskelion, in a private war room, Alexander Pierce was calmly speaking to global leaders via holographic screens.
"Pierce," one woman demanded. "What's your endgame here?"
Pierce remained composed, his voice silky-smooth. "To fulfill my duty, Madam. From the ashes of S.H.I.E.L.D., a sword of divine justice shall rise. We will bring order to this chaotic world."
"You're mad!" a male leader shouted. "You've turned S.H.I.E.L.D. into a war machine!"
"You don't understand," Pierce said, eyes gleaming. "The Master demands creation—"
BOOM!
The glass wall shattered as a repulsor blast tore through it, sending shards flying.
Iron Man hovered in the air, his armor gleaming gold and red against the smoke and fire.
"Well, well, well. The Minister of the World Security Council himself," Stark quipped. "I gotta say, you throw one hell of a masquerade. But the party's over."
He landed with a thud, palm cannon aimed squarely at Pierce.
"Call off your goons now. Or the next blast goes straight through your ribcage."
Black Widow and a bruised but conscious Hawkeye entered the room moments later, flanking Stark.
Then came the Hulk.
With a roar, he smashed the door clean off its hinges, stepping into the room like a wrecking ball.
"So," Pierce said, calmly straightening his suit. "You plan to arrest me?"
"You're done pretending," Black Widow snapped. "You're Hydra. You've been hiding inside S.H.I.E.L.D. all along."
Pierce smirked.
"Oh? And what proof do you have?"
Stark didn't wait for a reply. "Hey, Nat, how about we skip the courtroom drama and just knock him out now?"
His arc reactor pulsed. The propulsion system surged to life. He shot forward at full speed toward Pierce.
But suddenly—
"WARNING. WARNING."
Stark's helmet filled with blaring alerts. His entire suit's internal systems went haywire.
Behind Pierce, a strange, floating robot emerged—its design alien, its core glowing with ominous energy.
Stark froze mid-charge.
From the look of it, this thing… was not to be messed with.
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T/N:
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