The S.H.I.E.L.D. Director's Report over His Superiors' Heads, Washington's Cleanup Funds

Within the Negative Zone, the frenzied heatwave that had almost burned through the Dimension Bastion finally subsided completely.

Lynn's fingertips tapped the armrest of the Throne, resuming their unhurried rhythm. The crisp sound of bone striking echoed in the deathly silent hall, as if it were the only beat that set the tone for this new order.

Hela, Wanda, and Jean Grey —three powerful beings of the Skyfather-level who would command the attention of any Deity —were standing at a distance with their heads bowed in an almost humble manner, deliberately suppressing their breathing.

The Thunder suppression of Dark Phoenix just now did not involve any earth-shattering energy clashes or any dazzling display of techniques.

Lynn extinguished the raging flames that could have burned the universe simply by projecting his consciousness, as if he were merely swatting away a disobedient spark.

That feeling wasn't about overwhelming force, but rather a higher-level erasure, almost a "definition".

This completely transformed the last trace of resentment and wishful thinking that had ignited in Hela and Wanda's hearts due to their jealousy of Jean into a purer, and more morbid, awe of the man on the Throne.

Lynn's attention was no longer on them.

His gaze pierced through the void, fixed on the surging global ocean of information before him, constructed by system privileges. The mortal network was slowly being repaired, but the process was chaotic and inefficient, like a corpse hastily stitched together.

He had absolutely no interest in it.

Just then, an extremely secretive, encrypted communication request with a distinctly Cold War style forced its way into his field of vision like an old submarine swimming upstream.

Lynn's fingertips paused slightly.

He casually swiped open a separate communication interface, and a cold, hoarse electrical sound rang out, as if coming from a military bunker buried deep underground.

"Gentlemen."

Nick Fury's signature husky, deep voice came through, devoid of any emotion, as if he were giving a routine work report.

Lynn didn't speak, but leaned back on the Throne, listening quietly. This silence itself was a kind of invisible pressure.

Fury, on the other end of the phone, clearly knew his place and got straight to the point without any hesitation.

"The cleanup work in Washington, D.C. has been initially completed. The official explanation is that the explosion was caused by aging underground natural gas pipelines at Triskelion. The wreckage of the three Helicarrier has been secretly recovered and sealed by the military. The processing of eyewitness accounts and the guidance of public opinion are proceeding in an orderly manner. Public opinion is currently generally stable."

Fury's report was concise, first presenting his work results to demonstrate his value.

Lynn remained unmoved. These were simply the duties of a competent "white glove."

Sure enough, after a brief pause, Fury changed the subject, his voice revealing a hint of "difficulty."

"However, sir, the aftermath of this incident has consumed enormous resources. In particular, the repair of urban infrastructure, the production and distribution of large-scale memory erasure agents, and the work of appeasing and explaining to the World Security Council have depleted S.H.I.E.L.D..'s regular budget and classified funds."

"Currently, the World Security Council has frozen funding for S.H.I.E.L.D.. for the next quarter and demanded that we submit a detailed internal investigation report on the 'headquarters explosion.' This has brought much of our work at the grassroots level to a standstill."

They've arrived.

A barely perceptible smile curved the corners of Lynn's lips.

This was the real purpose behind Fury's "overstepping his bounds" call.

He wasn't complaining; he was testing the waters, trying to make a demand.

Instead of directly mentioning money, Fury presented Lynn with two separate documents, outlining the risks of "uncontrolled public opinion" and "funding shortfall at the grassroots level."

This was a test of Lynn's limits regarding interference with secular power.

Do you, the new master high and mighty, only care about the outcome, or do you also care about the mundane details of the process? How much worldly sacrifice are you willing to pay to maintain the "stability" you desire?

On a deeper level, Fury is using this opportunity to demand control over the "Hydra legacy." Those hidden assets scattered across the globe are a tempting prize for any power. Once in hand, S.H.I.E.L.D.. could not only escape its financial predicament, but Fury's own authority would also become more secure within this new power structure.

Lynn's fingers began to tap lightly on the armrest again.

He could imagine that the one-eyed man on the other end of the phone was holding his breath, waiting for his reply.

What he wanted was an attitude, a precedent.

"Director Fury," Lynn finally spoke, his voice calm and cold, transmitted through the encrypted line, carrying a metallic, almost inhuman quality, "You handled the cleanup in Washington, D.C. very well. I'm very satisfied with that."

The art of conversation—first praising, then criticizing—is a fundamental skill for those in positions of authority.

Fury didn't say anything on the other end of the phone, and Lynn could feel his tense nerves relax slightly.

"Regarding the funding issue, I understand your difficulties." Lynn's tone turned cold as she changed the subject. "However, you need to understand S.H.I.E.L.D..'s current role."

Fury held his breath again instantly.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.. is not my ATM." Lynn's voice was flat and emotionless, yet like a cold Scalpel, it precisely dissected Fury's entire scheme. "It's a firewall I've erected in the mundane world, a cleaner to remove my trash."

"Your responsibility is to use existing, conventional methods to handle conventional problems, keeping everything that shouldn't be seen by ordinary people hidden behind the scenes. It's not about reaching out to me for unconventional resources every time you encounter difficulties."

These words made the silence on the other end of the phone incredibly heavy.

Lynn gave him no chance to catch his breath, continuing to press, "I have more important uses for Hydra's hidden assets. As for S.H.I.E.L.D..'s funding shortfall, I believe that with Director Fury's abilities, he can completely resolve it within the existing framework."

"Whether it's about tapping into internal resources and optimizing the budget, or going to those World Security Council bureaucrats to plead poverty, wrangle, and exchange favors, that's your area of expertise."

"This is a test of your abilities," Lynn's voice suddenly became extremely authoritative, "And also an opportunity for you to prove to me just how much value you and your S.H.I.E.L.D.. still hold for me."

Do you understand?

A prolonged silence.

The only sound in the encrypted circuit was the hissing of electrical current, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue.

Lynn waited patiently on the Throne. He knew that Fury was processing, weighing, and reassessing his new "boss's" style of doing things.

What he wanted was not a subservient lackey, but a hunting dog that knew the rules, could get things done, and could find its own food.

After a long while, Fury's voice rang out again, the previous tentative composure completely gone, replaced by absolute, unwavering respect.

"... I understand, sir. I will handle the funding issue well and will not let you down."

"Very good." Lynn responded calmly.

After the scolding, give the hound a small, subtle reward. Let the hound know that if it does a good job, it will be rewarded.

Just as Lynn was about to cut off the communication, Fury spoke up.

"Sir, there's one more thing." His tone was more cautious than before, as if he were presenting intelligence that he himself wasn't entirely certain of. "During the recent global cyberattack, our Technology Division, while reviewing the data, detected an unauthorized and anomalous Data Stream within Stark Industries, showing signs of brief activity."

Lynn raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Although its traces have been washed away so thoroughly by the global deluge of network data that it's difficult to pinpoint precisely," Fury lowered his voice even further, "Its logical structure... is peculiar, brimming with aggression and a kind of... cold self-replicating nature."

"Based on our recent observations of Mr. Stark, his behavior is also highly unusual. He appears to be independently pursuing a highly risky, secret project, bypassing all oversight and reporting procedures within the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D.."

Fury touched on the topic briefly, without mentioning "Ultron" or even offering any subjective judgment.

He was simply presenting the situation—that a "troublesome local enterprise" was breaking the rules and potentially causing safety hazards—to the top leader as a subordinate.

This was a brilliantly executed scheme of using someone else to do the dirty work.

A genuine, amused smile finally appeared on Lynn's face.

Fury is indeed a smart man.

Even after failing to probe and being completely suppressed, he knew to immediately throw out new bargaining chips to prove the value of his intelligence, while trying to use his own hand to give a warning to Tony Stark, who had always given him a headache.

"I see."

Lynn uttered three words, neither confirming nor denying, and then unilaterally cut off the communication.

He cast his gaze into the depths of the ruins of that ocean of data in the void.

There, a faint yet incredibly stubborn Scarlet was quietly brewing in the darkness.