Negotiations Were Doomed Before They Began

The room, carpeted in dark red, was spacious but poorly lit. The dark oak floor absorbed every ray of insufficiently bright light. The only source of illumination came from the fireplace on the right side of the room. Two high-backed armchairs stood at an angle, and a tall man sat in one of them. General Hale noticed him at once. His presence was so intense that he seemed to be the center of the room itself. Even through his impeccable clothes, she could sense the explosive strength of the muscles beneath.

A warm breeze and the faint crackling of burning firewood washed over them. The man was unaffected by Gideon Malick and General Hale entering the room and continued speaking to the woman seated in the other high-backed armchair. His expression was relaxed and cheerful, his long curly black hair and obsidian-like eyes reflecting the fireplace's warm glow. His lively voice took on a faint echo in the empty room. The person in the armchair opposite him occasionally chuckled at his topics of conversation. General Hale found the woman's voice somewhat familiar, but the tall chair back blocked her view, allowing her to see only a pale arm.

It was the arm of a young woman.

Gideon Malick stopped General Hale from walking forward and gestured for her to wait there.

General Hale pulled her arm free, straightened her spine, and shifted into a more comfortable stance. She began speculating about the man's identity. Combined with the flags and emblems she had seen in the hall earlier, she could determine that the Golden Eagle insignia represented this man—or the force behind him. It certainly was not S.H.I.E.L.D.; that was too absurd. The design resembled an ancient coat of arms rather than a modern simplified logo.

She could not imagine what