Earth-40K, at this moment.
In the top-floor office of the Triskelion, Fury held a cigar between his fingers and looked at the man across the desk. An inexplicable tension filled the air.
"Dugan, don't ask why. Just answer me: can the Howling Commandos complete this mission?"
Though his words were stern, Fury still rolled a premium cigar across the desk to the big-mustached man in the bowler hat. They were old comrades, after all.
The man summoned to the office was none other than Dum Dum Dugan. But the potbellied fat man wore a troubled expression. Catching the cigar, he let out a long sigh.
"Nick, do you really know what you're saying?"
Fury rose from the shadows and looked through the reinforced glass at the night outside. Washington D.C. did not have New York's skyscrapers blazing with lights, but it had more green space and fountains.
Of course, at night, it was all just darkness. Only when the occasional plane passed overhead could its lights be seen sweeping across the lake below.
"I'm perfectly clear-headed. I can't explain why I'm issuing this mission. I only need you to carry out the order."
"My team can't accept an order like this." Dugan tossed the folder in his hand onto the desk and answered impatiently as he pulled out a lighter to light his cigar. "You're talking nonsense. You want me to find you some doors? Maybe green doors, red doors, brown doors? And if there aren't any doors, windows might work too? Are you sure you haven't eaten something bad?"
"No." Fury did not even turn around, merely clasping his hands behind his back. "You didn't finish reading the information I gave you. They aren't ordinary doors or windows. They contain energy—doors and windows capable of leading to Parallel Universes.