Mephisto tempted him:
"Isn't this the kind of thing you human heroes love most? Punishing evil, upholding good, helping the weak, crushing the strong."
"This world is full of scum, drug lords, and serial killers. They don't deserve to live, and you need power. Send their souls to Hell, and you can reclaim the Hellfire that belongs to you."
"Only when people possess power themselves can they do what they want."
"When you possess absolute force and no longer need to answer to anyone, what is S.H.I.E.L.D.? What is Vought?"
"Do you want to spend the rest of your life in this icehouse, watching the world be destroyed?"
The demon's whisper echoed through the room.
The air fell silent. Fury remained seated exactly as he had been.
Mephisto was patient. He was in no hurry. For a demon, time was the one thing he never lacked.
At last, Fury spoke.
"Are you done?"
Mephisto smiled faintly. "I'm done."
"Then get out."
Fury coldly spat out those three words without the slightest emotional fluctuation.
"As you wish, old friend."
Mephisto was not angered by the utterly impolite dismissal. Instead, he laughed happily.
He straightened up and elegantly adjusted the collar of his suit.
"The gates of Hell are always open for you."
With the final echo, the devil vanished completely from the room.
As though nothing had happened.
Fury sat quietly at his desk, utterly motionless.
Tick, tick, tick, tick. The clock hands kept turning.
Ten at night.
Two in the morning.
Five in the morning.
Outside the window, the blizzard stopped and started, started and stopped.
Fury did not sleep all night.
He simply sat there in silence through the entire night, staring blankly ahead.
It was as though a long black-and-white film were playing in his mind. From the