A gentle sea breeze, carrying the salty scent, swept across the beach, while the sunset painted the sea a rich orange hue, and all around was tranquil and peaceful.
But a sudden, short, encrypted ringtone, reserved for S.H.I.E.L.D.. with the highest level of access, abruptly shattered this hard-won peace.
Natasha paused slightly, her fingertips instinctively reaching for her personal satellite phone in her inner pocket. This encrypted number was known only to Nick Fury; no one else could obtain it. She got up and walked to a secluded corner of the beach, answered the call, and said in her usual calm and collected tone, "Hello."
However, it wasn't Fury's familiar, deep, husky voice that came from the other end of the phone.
A steady yet weary and heavy male voice rang out. The background was noisy and chaotic; one could vaguely hear hurried footsteps in the corridor, the alarms of medical equipment, and Coulson's hushed words directing order at the scene. The atmosphere of panic was palpable even through the receiver.
Natasha's eyes narrowed instantly, the relaxed aura of a secret agent returning to its sharp edge, her tone suddenly becoming piercing. "Who are you? Why do you have Fury's phone? Where is Nick Fury?"
The three consecutive questions were swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.
Steve paused for a moment on the other end of the phone, suppressing the heavy feeling surging within him. His voice was low and strained as he slowly delivered the devastating news. "It's me, Steve Rogers. Fury was ambushed by unknown assailants and is seriously injured. We rushed him to Bethesda Central Hospital, where he's currently undergoing emergency treatment. His condition is very serious. Natasha, get to the hospital as soon as possible."
There was no unnecessary preamble, only cold and cruel facts.
Natasha's heart tightened suddenly. Without saying a word, she replied and hung up the phone.
She turned and walked quickly back to the beach, went straight to Lynn who was sitting quietly on the rocks, lowered her voice, and told her the whole story of the phone call without missing a single word.
The sea breeze ruffled Lynn's black hair. Gazing at the gentle seascape before him, the last trace of leisure vanished from his eyes, leaving only helplessness and exhaustion. He muttered to himself, " Tony's long-standing chest problem was finally resolved, and everyone could barely catch their breath, but the Hydra and Winter Soldier saga has already begun. They never give us a moment's peace."
He had already told Coulson how the attack could still happen. Was it because they couldn't avoid the inevitable, or were they so stupid that they had no backup plan?
Natasha was ready to head to the hospital immediately, and with a slight movement of her feet, she wanted to leave the island and join Captain America and his group.
Lynn raised his hand and called out to her, calmly giving instructions. "You can go check the situation first. I warned Coulson about this beforehand, so he should have a contingency plan. Once you get to the hospital, just find Coulson; he knows everything."
"If the situation gets out of control, or if you discover any tricky leads, call me immediately. Your boss is still somewhat useful."
"Understood." Natasha replied, not lingering any longer, turning and quickly leaving the beach to head to the helipad to return to the hospital.
Watching Natasha's figure disappear completely, Lynn leaned back against the rock in frustration, scratching his hair. "I knew it wouldn't be that simple. Every time I give advance warnings and make arrangements, it all comes to nothing, and in the end, I'm always the one cleaning up the mess. Does Fury even have a brain?"
After a brief interlude, the relaxed atmosphere of the seaside vacation returned, and the camera focused back on the group remaining on the island.
Tony leaned back on the beach chair, his fingertips gently tracing his smooth chest. There was no blue light, no death countdown; a long-lost sense of security enveloped his entire body. He had completely let go of all the burdens of being a hero and his past inner demons, and for once, he had set aside his official duties at Stark Industries and the blueprints for the armor development, allowing himself to be completely empty.
Ivan sat to one side, fiddling with simple mechanical parts in his hands, the vengeful rage he once possessed long gone. He used to live only to avenge Stark, but now that obsession had dissipated. Gazing at the azure sea and the sunset before him, he slowly regained his own peace, no longer swayed by hatred.
Yinsen sat quietly with a book in his hands, the sea breeze turning the pages. Far from the smoke of battle and emergency surgery, he no longer had to face life and death and was peacefully enjoying a rare moment of leisure.
Pepper looked at Tony, who had let go of his worries, and her eyes were full of a peaceful smile.
Meanwhile, Natasha boarded an emergency aircraft and sped back, arriving at Bethesda Central Hospital without stopping.
The entire emergency area on the top floor of the hospital was sealed off, with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. guarding it at every turn, creating an extremely oppressive atmosphere. The stark white light shone on the faces of everyone in the corridor, each with an extremely solemn expression. No one chatted, and all eyes were fixed on the tightly closed emergency room door ahead.
Steve Rogers, dressed in civilian clothes, stood taut in the middle of the corridor, his expression solemn. Coulson stood guard at the emergency room door, constantly reviewing the intelligence from the scene, his brow furrowed with anxiety.
Upon seeing Natasha arrive, the two merely nodded slightly in acknowledgment, without exchanging any further pleasantries. At this moment, everyone's attention was focused on Fury, whose life hung in the balance in the emergency room.
The long and agonizing wait lasted a full forty minutes.
The emergency room doors slowly opened. The attending surgeon removed his sweat-soaked mask, gently shook his head, and shattered everyone's last hopes with a cold, detached statement. "I'm sorry, we did our best, but the resuscitation failed. The patient is brain dead. Time of death: 1:03 AM."
After he finished speaking, the corridor fell into a deathly silence.
A moment later, the group headed together to the hospital's underground morgue.
A cold, pale shroud covered the hospital bed, outlining Fury's iconic figure. Looking at the lifeless body, a flicker of emotion crossed Natasha's eyes. Only now did she have the peace of mind to begin reviewing the entire attack.
After listening to Steve and Coulson's accounts of the attack, her gaze turned cold. She turned to Captain America beside her and asked bluntly, "Why did Fury suddenly go to your apartment? He sensed danger beforehand; he shouldn't have gone to a private residence so rashly."
Steve's eyes flickered slightly, and he subconsciously looked away, his fingertips twitching almost imperceptibly. He replied calmly, "I don't know. He came suddenly without explaining why."
This subtle movement was noticed by Natasha, who has excellent observation skills.
Natasha's lips curled into a faint, mocking sneer. She took a half-step forward, her gaze as sharp as a knife, locking onto Captain America before her. She said, " Rogers, you really aren't good at lying."
Her tone was firm and unwavering. "If you refuse to talk, I will personally investigate the whole truth and find the person behind the crime."
Having said that, Natasha didn't linger. She turned to look at the composed Coulson beside her, and remembering Lynn's instructions before she left, she asked seriously, " Lynn told me that he gave you a warning beforehand, but he didn't say the specifics. Can you tell me everything now?"
The corridor lights were cold; the crisis had fully surfaced, and the undercurrents lurking in the shadows were sweeping in.