Work Report

Chief George Stacy was the quintessential good man—upright, highly principled, and strict with himself as well as everyone else. For the people of New York, having a police commissioner like him might have been fortunate. For those around him, though, it was another matter entirely. It was hard to get used to spending all day with someone so rigid.

Richard himself did not dislike the commissioner. He was not the sort of person overflowing with righteousness, nor did he particularly enjoy being around people like that, but that did not stop him from admiring them. A city needed people like Commissioner Stacy if it was ever going to become better.

After seeing the commissioner and his group off, there was basically nothing else to do that day. When it was time to get off work, Richard found Jessica. "Come on, pack up your things. I'll take you to look at apartments."

Jessica froze for a moment. "But I still have things I haven't—"

Richard waved a hand. "Hodge, can you help Jessica finish the remaining tasks? We need to go."

Hodge's face twitched. "No problem, boss."

For fuck's sake...

S.H.I.E.L.D., Triskelion.

Dressed in black, S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury sat upright behind his desk, elbows resting on its surface as his hands alternately supported his chin.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

"He never directly demonstrated any special abilities to me, but he knew about what happened at Bex Waterworks early yesterday morning, and he personally and unequivocally admitted it," Coulson said. "I don't think there can be any mistake—Richard is the giant codenamed 'Ultraman.'"

Fury narrowed his single eye.

So that giant really had been transformed from a human. Fury was no longer sure whether that made things simpler or more complicated. Since the other party was human, communication between them would be much easier. But because he was human—a human with power surpassing that of any nation or organization—that made things even more troublesome.

"He said this power might be an inheritance from another world, one that existed to resist creatures called 'Space Beasts,'" Coulson continued. "He also told me S.H.I.E.L.D. had to be prepared, because the Space Beast that was defeated before... was actually just a relatively weak one."

"Relatively weak?" Fury's only eye nearly bulged out of its socket. "Are you sure that's what he meant?"

Coulson understood his superior's reaction. After all, he had reacted the same way when he heard those words from Richard. You could describe that thing from early yesterday morning as disgusting, ugly, nightmarishly terrifying... but no matter how you put it, the word "weak" had nothing to do with it.

If that was true, then the problem was serious. There would be monsters stronger than that tentacled creature in the future? And it sounded like there might be more than one.

Did humanity really stand a chance against something like that?

"May I offer my personal opinion, sir?" Coulson asked.

Fury raised his eyelids. "Go ahead."

"I think that whether what he said is true or not, if creatures like that really do appear again in the future, then Richard's power is our best opportunity."

"So you think he can be trusted?"

Coulson pondered for a moment.

"From the perspective of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, saying that we trust him now would be a little too casual," Coulson said. "But from my personal perspective, yes. I think so."

Fury nodded thoughtfully without saying anything.

As director, he naturally could not reach any conclusions based solely on Coulson's side of the story, but it was certainly worth taking into consideration.

Coulson hesitated for quite a while before speaking. "I have another question, sir. I'm not sure whether I should ask it."

Fury gave him a slightly puzzled look. Coulson had been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for a long time. He had always understood that an agent only needed to do his own job and should not ask too many unnecessary questions. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were told only what they needed to know, and anything they were not told was something they did not need to know. Even rookie agents knew that rule.

Yet today, Coulson had both voiced his opinions and raised questions. He clearly cared a great deal about this matter.

"Ask."

"The Council, the government, and the military... what measures might they take against Ultraman, sir?"

Fury frowned.

Of course, he knew how those people would react. No government in any country would be happy to see something appear on this planet that could ignore their authority through individual strength and stand entirely above the nation.

It was hard to say how fiercely they would react, but one thing was certain: they definitely would not pin a medal on Ultraman and appoint him something like "Guardian of Earth."

Looking on the bright side, at least Ultraman's overwhelming strength was still an effective deterrent for now. Before the military was certain it could defeat him, they should not act rashly... at least, Nick Fury hoped so. He disliked the conduct of many bureaucrats above him, but he believed those old men's brains still worked well enough that they would not do anything too outrageous.

"Don't dwell on those things. We just need to do our own jobs," Fury finally said.

"Understood, sir."

The mission report was over, but before Coulson left, he remembered something else and added, "Oh, sir, there's one more thing... I don't know whether it's important, but I think you should know."

"What is it?"

"Before I left the newspaper, Mr. Li warned me that a storm was coming. He said we should worry about our own backyard, and that sometimes our greatest enemy is not someone else, but ourselves."

Fury's thick eyebrow rose. "That's what he said?"

"Word for word." Coulson paused, then asked, "But do you know what it means, sir?"

"I don't." Though Fury said so, he was clearly deep in thought. After considering it, he asked, "Did he say anything else?"

"No."

"All right, I understand. You can go back now."

"Yes, sir."

After Coulson left, Nick Fury sat alone in his office, propping up his chin as he thought for a long time.

Sometimes, for a spy—especially a king of spies like Fury—what he needed was not conclusive evidence, nor even some tangible clue. All he needed was a warning, a seed of suspicion. Nothing more.