Response Plan

"You can't just knock out my agent, impersonate him to join a top-secret mission, then swagger into my office and tell me you did it for both our sakes!"

Nick Fury looked at the figure completely hidden beneath armor, his tone unusually close to anger.

Michael stood before him and replied coolly, "But it was for both our sakes, Director Fury. First of all, I didn't 'knock out' Agent Coulson. That would have been far too barbaric. I merely used a simple spell to hypnotize him and let him take a comfortable little nap. I'd even bet it was the soundest sleep he'd had in weeks."

After a pause, he stressed, "Besides, the undeniable fact is that it worked. I uncovered a Level Eight Spy planted within S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm sure you can imagine the kind of impact a spy of that rank could have when S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra are on the verge of all-out war."

Garrett's recording before his death had already been delivered to Fury. Based on its contents, he had essentially admitted to being a Hydra spy. Several S.H.I.E.L.D. experts had also examined the footage and unanimously guaranteed that the recording had not been tampered with in any way.

Of course, Fury knew exactly how great a threat a spy like John Garrett could pose. He simply disliked this mysterious partner interfering without his knowledge. Still, he had to admit that this mysterious figure had helped them out tremendously so far. Calling him S.H.I.E.L.D.'s trump card against Hydra would not have been an exaggeration.

But as the head agent of a super intelligence agency like S.H.I.E.L.D., a spy among spies, Nick Fury was more accustomed to controlling everything himself than having things turned around on him. He hated the feeling of knowing nothing about someone, just like now.

Fury sat in his armchair. After a long silence, he asked, "How many more?"

"What?"

"High-ranking spies like Garrett, with clearance above Level Eight." Fury raised his head, and an unsettlingly sinister gleam shone from his single eye. "How many more?"

More than you could possibly believe. Forget Level Eight—there's even a Level Ten Top Double Agent who strolls into your office every other day to joke around with you.

Michael merely shook his head. "There are indeed quite a few, but the time isn't right yet. Even if I told you their names now, you wouldn't believe me. Besides, the bigger the fish, the more cautious they are. It's even harder to catch them with evidence, and I can't provide proof anytime soon. Acting rashly would only alert them."

"Are you telling me to stand aside and do nothing?"

"I'm telling you to wait for the right moment." Michael raised a hand. A cloud of green mist conjured by magic slowly rose, gradually swallowing his figure. "But don't worry, Director Fury. In the end, not a single one of them will escape."

The green mist dispersed, and the steel body vanished without a trace along with it.

Fury sat behind his desk, staring at the spot where he had disappeared for a long time.

"I hate magic."

Somewhere unknown.

Beside a dimly lit conference table, figures made of pale blue holograms sat around it. Only one chair on the right remained empty.

Those attending were Hydra's highest-ranking leaders. These immensely powerful officials might not gather around the same table for a meeting even once in years—not even for a remote meeting using projection technology. Yet within the past week, this was already the second time they had assembled like this.

Because they had lost someone.

"John Garrett is dead." At the end of the table, the man wearing a monocle spoke grimly. "This is a tremendous loss to us. But we have no time to waste on mourning him. This incident has sounded an alarm, reminding us to remain vigilant."

The refined man in round glasses said coldly, "I warned Garrett long ago, but he was too arrogant to heed my advice. And now, he has paid the price."

"So how did Garrett die? Who caught him?"

"I heard his identity was exposed during an operation led by a Level Seven Agent from S.H.I.E.L.D.," someone answered. "Phillip J. Coulson."

"That isn't the truth." Alexander Pierce, the blond S.H.I.E.L.D. secretary, leaned forward slightly. "Someone outside S.H.I.E.L.D. interfered with that operation. If my information is correct, it should have been that Black Knight who caught him."

"Him again?" The man in glasses frowned. "Dr. Norton?"

"There is not even any evidence proving that he is Angus Norton himself," Pierce emphasized.

"It has been a long time since something like this happened." The bald man with the monocle spoke coldly. "We are under attack, and so far, we know almost nothing about our attacker. That must change."

The man in glasses turned his gaze toward Pierce. "That 'weapon' on your end—can't he be put to use?"

Pierce shot him a glance.

"A blade is useful only when you know what needs to be removed." He answered indifferently, then turned his gaze to the monocled man at the end of the table. "I hear Baron Strucker has several highly rated superpowered individuals under his command. One of them possesses multiple abilities, including rare sensory powers? Perhaps she can be of use."

"Only sensory abilities to a limited degree." The monocled man, Baron Strucker, replied coldly. "And she is still unstable. She is not ready for deployment."

"With all due respect, Baron. We are facing the most critical moment in decades." Pierce said. "Perhaps this is not the time to prepare slowly."

Baron Strucker rested both hands beneath his gaunt chin. The gaze behind his monocle seemed to grow several degrees colder.

"Very well." After pondering for a long time, he replied, "I will go back and inspect her, see if there are any results. I will contact you if I find anything."

Alexander Pierce's hologram leaned back in his chair. "I look forward to your good news."

The pale blue holograms vanished one after another, and the glow around the round table gradually faded. The meeting room sank into deathly darkness.

The remote meeting ended. Baron Wolfgang von Strucker rose from his desk and quickly left his office. He went to the elevator at the end of the corridor, rode it down to the deepest underground level, and entered an enormous laboratory.

The laboratory was bustling with people, most of them researchers in white coats. An elderly man who appeared to be in charge noticed Baron Strucker enter and hurriedly put down his work to greet him, bowing respectfully. "Sir."

Baron Strucker clasped his hands behind his back and slowly walked farther inside. The old man hurriedly explained, "Sir, the Scepter's effects are indeed remarkable. We have only scratched the surface, yet we have already made extremely exciting progress. Some component contained within it seems to have catalyzed the twins' superpowers, greatly enhancing them."

"The twins." Strucker stopped walking, turned his head, and fixed the old man with a terrifying stare. "How are they doing?"

"Their progress has been astonishing, but they are still getting used to their new powers." The old man lowered his head. "They have not fully adapted yet, and controlling them is still somewhat difficult. They need more time."

"Bring me the girl." Baron Strucker gave the order without room for doubt. "I need her."

The old man froze. "Ah? But she hasn't—"

"I said," Strucker shot him a cold glare and repeated each word distinctly, "bring me the girl."

A bone-chilling cold seemed to shoot out from his gaze. Meeting his eyes felt like having a steel blade pressed against one's throat. The old man shuddered involuntarily and quickly bowed. "Yes, sir."