Phillip J. Coulson, a top S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, was the very model of a standard American operative and one of the agents most trusted by former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Nick Fury. After working diligently for S.H.I.E.L.D. for half his life and receiving Director Fury's favor, he had finally managed to rise to the top position before retirement.
Yet the six months he had spent in that seat had also been the hardest six months of his entire career as an agent.
Back when Nick Fury held absolute authority over S.H.I.E.L.D., how imposing had he been? S.H.I.E.L.D. was hailed as the foremost intelligence agency in the world, possessing countless super privileges that would make anyone green with envy just hearing them listed, stockpiling dangerous equipment capable of turning the world upside down, and gathering the finest agents and scientists. Its technological strength left America's military and government far behind. Not to mention that Fury had several incredibly stylish Helicarriers under his command, capable of flying into space and diving beneath the sea, with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s exclusive optical camouflage technology making them vanish without a trace once airborne.
If there had been anyone capable of putting a leash on the all-powerful Director Fury, it had only been that bunch of annoying old men from the World Security Council. They supervised and oversaw every matter within S.H.I.E.L.D.; in principle, they had the right to question every decision Fury made. But who was Nick Fury? A legendary agent, the king of spies, and with his accomplice Alexander Pierce constantly running interference for him, the Council's influence had always been extremely limited.
In any case, Nick Fury had basically done whatever he wanted over the years. When he felt like reporting something, he would give the Council a report, but most of the time he simply ignored them. Once Director Fury decided to do something, not even God Himself could change his mind. Unless Fury suddenly felt like dropping a nuclear bomb on Manhattan or something, those old men normally could do nothing about him.
Director Fury had held Agent Coulson's hand and earnestly imparted his teachings. He spoke so movingly that Agent Coulson had wept with emotion, deeply stirred and determined to defend the faith embodied by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s name. He had taken up S.H.I.E.L.D.'s banner from Fury and continued the unfinished work of his mentor.
But Phil Coulson, the new director, soon discovered that S.H.I.E.L.D. was no longer what it had once been.
Fury had once possessed countless privileges, and his agents could travel freely through nations around the world. Now, however, S.H.I.E.L.D. had been reduced to an international terrorist organization. News reports even often liked to mention them alongside their "old friend," Hydra.
Fury had once commanded cutting-edge technology, with personnel and informants spread across the globe. Now, the roster of agents under Coulson could fit on a single page—and that included researchers and clerical staff.
Fury had once had planes, tanks, and Helicarriers; even if one fell out of the sky every week, he would never have worried about having none left to replace it the following week. Now, they had been willing to storm a military base and seize a single Quinjet equipped with cloaking technology.
Under such circumstances, lacking both manpower and weapons while also evading international pursuit, Agent Coulson still had to lead S.H.I.E.L.D. in its love-hate struggle against Hydra's remaining forces and stop them from destroying the world.
If there was anything that could comfort him, it was that their enemy Hydra was in much the same state. To be fair, Hydra seemed to have it even worse.
After the devastating blow it had suffered earlier, this Nazi remnant organization, which had claimed to be as indestructible as a cockroach, had finally crumbled apart. Most of Hydra's heads had been cut off, and this time there seemed to be no sign of two new heads growing back. The only one who still had any real strength was Daniel Whitehall.
Still, Whitehall's situation was just about as miserable as Coulson's. They too lacked people, weapons, and technology. While evading international pursuit, they also had to avoid S.W.O.R.D.'s tracking—and at present, they did not even know that this mysterious new organization was called "S.W.O.R.D."
As Hydra's sole surviving Leader, Daniel Whitehall had inherited and elevated Hydra's remarkable tradition of lying low to its absolute peak. Under immense pressure, he had remained hidden in the shadows for six months, then successfully seized the Obelisk he had long coveted from the items the military had confiscated from S.H.I.E.L.D.
The series of clashes between S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra that followed all revolved around the object known as the Obelisk. Both sides knew it was powerful and dangerous, but neither knew exactly what it was for. They only knew that anyone whose flesh came into direct contact with the Obelisk would be infected and corroded by the evil thing. So far, everyone who had touched the Obelisk had been petrified and confirmed dead.
After expending enormous amounts of time, manpower, and money, and with guidance from relevant experts, Whitehall had finally deciphered the secret hidden within the divine artifact known as the Obelisk. He discovered that it had uses beyond serving as a weapon. To activate this function, they apparently needed to find a specific location: an ancient city left on Earth by aliens long ago. Whitehall believed that once they found this city, the Obelisk could unleash annihilating power capable of killing millions in a single stroke.
Now, after long and unrelenting effort, Whitehall had finally found the entrance to the city he had dreamed of. Hydra's experts had used multispectral terrain scans to confirm that the city was buried deep beneath Puerto Rico, with one of its entrances located in San Juan.
There were no words capable of describing Daniel Whitehall's excitement. He had spent his entire life exploring the mysteries of the Obelisk, once comparing its significance to him with the value the Tesseract had held for Hydra's founder, Red Skull. His feelings were easy to imagine.
The only fly in the ointment was that S.H.I.E.L.D. had learned of it before he could descend into the ancient city.
"Sir, I believe Daniel Whitehall's location has been pinpointed." Sherry's voice came through the speakers in the private laboratory. "According to intelligence, Whitehall seems to intend to enter an alien city left on Earth in ancient times. He believes something within that city can unleash the Obelisk's true power."
"So he finally showed himself?" Michael said, his head lowered as he studied a black tome on Chaos Magic.
Leaving everything else aside, Michael had to admire Whitehall's skill at hide-and-seek. S.W.O.R.D. had searched for him for so long and had only managed to locate one of his bases once—and that cunning four-eyed fox had slipped away before the base could be taken, leaving only his confidant Sunil Bakshi behind to clean up after him.
Bakshi had sworn absolute loyalty to Whitehall and refused to reveal even the slightest piece of information, so Michael had handed him over to the Scarlet Witch as practice for her telepathic abilities.
But poor Bakshi truly seemed to know nothing about where his Boss was. Wanda had used telepathy to dig out nearly every secret she could from him, from the various classified matters he had observed over the years at Whitehall's side to every aspect of his personal life, yet there had not been a single useful clue.
When Bakshi had even begun preparing to share the romantic history of several of his lovers fighting over him, Wanda had finally stopped the interrogation in helplessness and reported with certainty that the man truly knew nothing.
"The location has been confirmed as San Juan, Puerto Rico. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s team, led by Director Phil Coulson, is also in position. The two sides have already exchanged fire. Shall we join in, sir?"
"Of course." Michael closed the book and rose to his feet. "Get ready. We wouldn't want to miss the party."
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