S.H.I.E.L.D.., Triskelion.
Nick Fury sat alone in the director's office, the lights off.
The only light in the room came from the tablet on the table, on which the Vought International "V" logo glowed softly.
The world was no longer the one he knew.
The endless stream of Metahuman has turned the existing order upside down.
Vought, the business empire that bills itself as a "management hero," is defining a new order.
Fury hated this feeling.
It's a feeling that your fate is in someone else's hands.
He opened his eyes, his gaze sharpening.
He pressed an old-fashioned intercom button on the table.
A few minutes later, Barbara Minerva walked in.
She wore S.H.I.E.L.D.. uniform, her steps elegant and confident.
Time has been exceptionally kind to her; over fifty years have left no trace on her face, but instead have given her a mature charm.
She is like a bottle of fine wine that has been carefully aged.
Fury remembered that when he first joined S.H.I.E.L.D.., this woman, nicknamed Cheetah, looked exactly like this.
Barbara Minerva, an archaeologist, was an elder from the Peggy Carter era and spent decades thereafter in the archives, living a quiet and unassuming life.
A perfect resume.
But Fury didn't believe it.
How could a woman who commands respect from Peggy Carter be just an ordinary archivist?
" Director Carter told me that you are someone I can trust, Barbara."
Fury leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on her like that of a hawk.
"Yeah?"
This was a warning from a newly appointed bureau chief to the veteran officials of the previous administration, and also a direct test.
Barbara's expression remained unchanged as she met Fury's scrutiny.
"Director, my loyalty is recorded in every document I file. If you no longer need me, there will always be a place for me in the archives."
Fury looked at her.
This woman is very smart.
Instead of rushing to defend herself, she took a step back, indicating that she had no desire for power.
After a brief silence, Fury suddenly laughed.
"Of course I trust you, Barbara."
He leaned back in his chair.
"Otherwise, I wouldn't have entrusted you with the most important task."
Barbara listened quietly, waiting for what was to come.
"I want all of Vought International's files," Fury's voice deepened. "Everything. From the very first day it was founded, every business contract, every public statement, every record of contact with the government. The original paper files, all of them, moved here."
"Yes, Chief."
She turned and left decisively.
Does he trust her?
No, he doesn't trust anyone.
Fury just wanted to see what this woman would bring him when faced with the name " Vought ".
Half a day later.
Several boxes filled with paper documents were delivered to the director's office.
Fury dismissed everyone.
He spread stacks of yellowed documents on the floor, and the entire office was soon filled with these papers.
He began to flip through the pages one by one.
He first compiled a list of Vought International's top executives.
He was very familiar with the name Dr. Horton of the General Administration of Scientific Research.
A genius scientist who was already somewhat famous during World War II, later disappeared from public view, and when he reappeared, he was already a member of Vought's team.
The resume is clear and well-organized.
Victoria Hand, deputy head of the Strategic Operations Department.
A graduate of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, and a former Level 4 agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.., he left due to ideological differences and later joined Vought.
Fury could even access her mission reports from back then.
Things started to get strange.
Head of the Public Relations and Brand Management Department: Hans Landa.
The photo shows an elegant man who is fluent in multiple languages, but his nationality, family background, and educational background are all blank.
Head of the Intelligence and Infiltration Department: Ada Wong.
Head of the Strategic Operations Department: Hannibal Lecter.
I looked at one name after another.
These people, all of the core executives of the Vought International, except for Horton and Victoria Hand, are all ghosts!
They have no past, no roots.
They are like pawns created out of thin air and then directly placed into this world.
Fury picked up a photo of the mysterious CEO, Lynn Morris.
The man in the photo is facing the camera with an enigmatic smile on his face.
They exist, yet they don't.
Fury felt like he was fighting thin air, every punch hitting empty air.
This feeling of powerlessness was more unbearable for him than facing any physical enemy.
"Knock knock."
"Come in."
Maria Hill pushed open the door and entered, carefully avoiding the documents on the floor.
Any progress?
"Progress is that we're making no progress at all." Fury's voice was deep. " Vought's inner circle is like a bunch of ghosts; they have no past, no family, no weaknesses."
Hill frowned as well.
Fury glanced at the front page of the newspaper Hill handed him.
The above is a spirited group photo of the " New Guardians," captioned " Guardian of the New Era! The New Guardians Promise to Bring Criminal Phantom to Justice!"
"If you can't break through from the front, then look for an opening from the side." Fury pointed to the newspaper. " Vought's biggest move lately is this. A perfect PR stunt, using the corpse of an unfortunate soul to promote their new product."
" Phantom?"
"Yes, Phantom, I don't believe he's the criminal, and I don't believe things could be such a coincidence. This whole thing, from beginning to end, seems meticulously orchestrated."
He looked at Hill.
"Go find him, find the real Leo Cohen. I want him alive, I want him to tell me himself what really happened that night."
"The whole world is looking for him, Vought's people must be too..."
"Then I'll be faster than them." Fury interrupted her. " Vought wants to make him a monster everyone hates, so I'll turn him into a witness to expose Vought's lies."
New York, the sewers.
The foul-smelling sewage flowed slowly past my feet.
Leo Cohen was huddled in a corner of a pipe, wrapped in rags he had found, clutching a cell phone with a cracked screen in his hand.
On the screen, an interview with VNN News is playing.
The father of the little girl he "attacked" is holding a huge check in front of the camera.
The check was made payable to the charitable foundation of the Vought International.
"Thank you, Vought! Thank you, New Guardians!" The man said to the camera, tears welling in his eyes, "They gave us justice, they gave us hope!"
The camera then pans to the " New Guardians " captain standing to the side.
The blond, blue-eyed man wore a perfect smile.
Leo Cohen looked at the face on the screen, at the fake performance, and at the frenzied cheers of the crowd below.
He suddenly laughed.
At first, it was a low, suppressed laugh.
Then, the laughter grew louder and louder, echoing through the empty sewers, filled with an indescribable sense of desolation and madness.
He understood.
He finally understood.
He was neither a hero nor a demon.
He was just a stepping stone.
A dirty but useful stepping stone chosen by the Vought International to pave the way for a new hero's ascension to godhood.
The maniacal laughter abruptly stopped.
Leo Cohen lowered his head, looking at his distorted reflection in the sewage, and murmured softly, as if pronouncing a sentence on another version of himself.
"So... wanting everyone to remember you doesn't mean you have to be a hero..."