S.H.I.E.L.D.'s compromise negotiations, Director Fury's desperate sacrifice for survival

In Lynn's mental perception, the signal attempting to connect was like a candle flame, stubbornly flickering in a storm, about to burn out.

Instead of using any public network, it stubbornly knocks on the Bastion of Negative Zone through an ancient channel long forgotten by the world, filled with physical and quantum encryption.

Lynn sat on the Bone Throne, his fingertips still lightly tapping the armrests.

He didn't even turn around; he simply "watched" the signal with great interest.

A relic of the Cold War, S.H.I.E.L.D..'s last emergency communication protocol. A survival strategy that, theoretically, can only be activated unilaterally by the highest-ranking official after the global communication system has been completely paralyzed.

It seems that the once high and mighty king of spies, who was used to using information asymmetry and political maneuvering to scheme against everything, has finally put down his pitiful pride, which is worthless in the face of the Deity.

A playful smile curved Lynn's lips.

He didn't keep the other party waiting for too long.

In a state of absolute weakness, excessive neglect will not foster greater respect; instead, it may lead to meaningless mutual destruction. What he needs is a complete, fully functional tool to handle his worldly troubles, not a utterly desperate mad dog.

With a thought, the signal was received.

There was no sound, and no image.

At Lynn's will, a Data Stream was stripped from the signal, forming a blurry, monochrome humanoid figure of light and shadow with only an outline in front of the Throne.

The light and shadow flickered slightly, as if adapting to this incomprehensible method of communication. After a moment, a hoarse, tired voice, yet one that forced itself to remain calm, came from within the light and shadow.

"Mr. Lynn..."

Nick Fury chose this title.

He didn't address him by his first name, as that would imply equality and be provocative. Nor did he use "Your Excellency," as that would seem too subservient and would cost him his last bargaining chip. A neutral "Sir," with a touch of distant respect, was the most respectable opening he could find at that moment.

Lynn did not respond.

He maintained his chin-resting posture, coldly watching the ball of light representing Fury, as if admiring a moth struggling futilely after being caught in a spider web.

In Negative Zone, where the flow of time can be distorted, every second of silence is the ultimate torture of the mortal spirit.

Jean Grey, who had just gained a superior status because of the "key project," watched the scene with great interest. Hela and Wanda, on the other hand, keenly sensed Lynn's intentions from the suffocating silence.

They saw it.

This former highest-ranking official, who once controlled Lynn's "mortal identity," is now waiting for Lynn's charity in an almost begging manner.

This realization strangely calmed the jealousy and resentment they felt because of the piano, replacing it with a deeper level of awe and fascination with Lynn's power politics.

He could not only control the Deity, but also manipulate the kings of the mortal world at will.

Finally, when Fury's lights and shadows flickered again due to the unstable signal, he couldn't hold on any longer.

"The situation in Washington, D.C. is spiraling out of control." Fury's voice lowered, and his pace quickened. "Three Helicarriers are hovering over the city, and all communications are cut off. None of the emergency lines between the White House and the Pentagon are working."

"I know, you have it all under your control."

"I... S.H.I.E.L.D.., can handle the aftermath for you." Fury finally offered his first bargaining chip, adopting an extremely humble posture, like a project manager reporting a solution to his superior. "We can define everything that happened tonight as an internal test failure of ' Project Insight,' a catastrophic system failure caused by Hydra."

"All casualties and property damage can be attributed to Pierce and his infiltrators. We can provide a perfect report, one that the whole world will believe. You need a clean cleanup, leaving no trace of the supernatural, and S.H.I.E.L.D.. is the organization in the world best at doing that."

Lynn remained silent, but shifted his gaze from Fury's play of light and shadow to his long, slender fingers, as if studying the patterns on his nails.

This kind of disregard is more oppressive than any verbal rebuke.

Fury's image flickered violently; he knew that the stakes he had thrown out were far from enough.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.... is defunct in name only." He took a deep breath, his voice revealing a resolute determination to cut his losses and survive. "But its roots remain. Over the past seventy years, we've infiltrated almost every key department globally. We have countless Safe House, secret accounts, intelligence Covert Operatives, and loyal, unseen undercover agents."

"These are all off-the-books assets. Pierce didn't know, and neither did the World Security Council. Only I knew."

"Give them to you." Fury each word slowly and deliberately, as if cutting off a piece of his own flesh. "In exchange for these resources, you... cease further action against Washington, D.C.. Let the city return to order."

He finally revealed his last trump card.

This is not negotiation, this is surrender.

They traded S.H.I.E.L.D..'s last and most crucial secret legacy for a chance to prolong their existence.

"Oh."

A very soft laugh, filled with endless mockery, finally came from the Throne.

Lynn slowly sat up straight.

"Fury." He spoke for the first time, his voice calm as still water, yet it made the figure tremble violently.

You seem to have misunderstood something.

"You're not 'negotiating' with me, much less making any 'exchange'." Lynn stood up, slowly walked down the steps, stood in front of the light and shadow, and looked down at it from above.

"You are giving a performance review..."

"They're reporting to me what remaining value you and your near-bankrupt organization have."

Fury's image froze completely. Lynn's words, like a sharp knife, peeled away all the veneer of rhetoric and decorum he had used, revealing the naked, cruel reality.

"What you just mentioned is very good." Lynn's tone was like that of a chairman taking stock of his assets. "Intelligence networks, secret accounts, undercover agents... I want them all. From now on, grant me Highest Access Privileges to all levels of S.H.I.E.L.D.. databases."

"Furthermore," Lynn extended a finger and gently tapped Fury's forehead, "The 'cleanup work' you mentioned isn't your 'help' to me, but rather the first 'instruction' I gave you."

"I want you to use all your resources to erase everything that happened tonight from everyone's memory. I don't want any words like ' Deity,' 'magic,' or 'the undead' in the newspapers tomorrow morning. The official conclusion can only be one— Hydra terrorist attack and a technical malfunction of the S.H.I.E.L.D.. Helicarrier."

"You, Nick Fury, will be the 'hero' of this event, tasked with rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D.., eliminating the remnants of Hydra, and stabilizing the global situation."

Fury's shadow contracted sharply.

He instantly understood Lynn's intention.

This is a hundred times more ruthless than directly destroying S.H.I.E.L.D..

Lynn didn't want destruction; he wanted to incorporate them. He wanted to completely transform S.H.I.E.L.D.. from an independent, violent agency into a "contracting company" that handled his worldly troubles and covered up his supernatural traces.

And he himself, the former king of spies, will be reduced from a player to a pawn that Lynn has placed in the open, an "agent" who works for him and takes the blame for him.

All the credit belongs to him, but all the power originates from the person on the Throne.

"... I need access." Fury's voice was hoarse; he was making a final, futile struggle. "Without your support, I cannot land those three Helicarrier safely, nor can I lift the communications blockade."

"As you wish."

As soon as Lynn finished speaking, Fury's perception sensed an irresistible, gentle yet undeniable force being injected back into him through the signal source. It was a small portion of "operational privileges" granted to him by Lynn.

He could command Wanda's Chaos Magic to open a "window" for him that was limited to regular communication.

He can command Hela's Death Force to temporarily cease creating new undead.

He could even issue a simple command to Jean Grey's Psychic Network: disarm non- Hydra personnel.

This amount of authority was pitifully small, but just enough for him to complete the "cleanup" work.

This is the ultimate form of control.

He gives you the tools you need to complete the task, but never a penny more, ensuring you can never escape his control.

"Any more questions, Fury... Director?" Lynn deliberately emphasized the word "Director," his tone full of mockery and sarcasm.

"... there is none left."

The light and shadow dimmed and finally disappeared completely.

Communication interrupted.

The Negative Zone returned to deathly silence.

Lynn turned and walked back to his Throne. The external troubles had transformed from a "threat" into an "asset."

Now, it's time to address the internal "project allocation" issue.

He could clearly feel the three burning, infatuated, and expectant gazes behind him.

Hela, Wanda, Jean Grey.

They were all waiting.

They awaited his announcement regarding who would be in charge of the new "key project" in Siberia, where the chances of achieving greater merit were higher.