In an office on the top floor of Eye Society headquarters, Sharon Carter stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, her fingers gripping the edge of the frame.
Outside, most of the thick black smoke over Midtown Manhattan had dispersed. But the crater remained, a wound torn open in the heart of the city that would never heal.
She looked paler than she had five days ago, with dark circles under her eyes, but her back was still perfectly straight.
Her phone had vibrated thirty-seven times on the desk. Thirty-seven calls, all from the White House, the Pentagon, Capitol Hill, and foreign embassies.
She had answered none of them.
Before, she had been a nobody. Any one of those people could have made her life hell.
Now, even Supreme Leader Laxington could not touch her!
After all, the calluses on her knees had not grown there for nothing.
On the thirty-eighth call, an encrypted prefix appeared on the screen. She recognized the number.
Nick Fury.
She answered.
Fury's voice came through, steady but urgent. "Sharon, the Supreme Leader wants to contact Yongye. Is he dead or not? Can he step in or not?"
Sharon was silent for two seconds before she spoke. "The President returned this morning."
The other end went quiet for a moment.
Then Fury's voice shot up an octave. "What?! He's back?! Where has he been for the last five days?!"
Sharon glanced at the closed door to the lounge in the corner of the office. Her voice was impossible to read. "He said he was recovering from his injuries."
Fury: "...Recovering?"
Sharon: "Yes. He's badly hurt. He can't step in right away."
The other end fell silent for another three seconds.
Then Fury forced out through clenched teeth, "...Motherfucker."
In the lounge, Yongye leaned against the headboard