"Are you satisfied with this script?"
In the dark room, the extinguished lights came back on. The holographic image projected onto the wall gradually faded away, leaving nothing but emptiness.
Nick Fury slumped in his chair, his face ashen. He looked at the smiling young man, hatred blazing from his eyes. His fists clenched tightly, his nails piercing his skin and drawing blood.
Fury had never felt such a violent urge to kill someone. The calm rationality of a veteran agent had been utterly swallowed by rage.
But what could he do?
He could neither resist nor see any hope of turning things around. Bound to a cold chair, he could not move in the slightest.
The Black director gradually lost the strength to struggle. Grief appeared on his dark face as all the honor and mission he had fought for turned to nothing in an instant.
Sean Sipes, the man sitting behind the scenes and pulling every string, had personally destroyed his life's work. A hero's glory, a soldier's mission, the responsibility of protecting the world... all vanished like a dream.
Like a sandcastle on the beach, mercilessly crushed by the waves and turned into a pool of filthy mud.
"You son of a bitch! Captain Rogers won't believe it—this is only Zola's side of the story!"
A glimmer of light suddenly rose in Fury's dim eyes. Perhaps Captain America would not be misled. Perhaps he could uncover the truth in the end and clear his name.
"Still refusing to give up? What tenacious fighting spirit." Sean tapped the table, and a glowing screen appeared on the wall. Several figures came into sharp focus: a virtual meeting of the World Security Council. "This was a meeting from six hours ago."
"You previously sent mercenaries to hijack S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Lemurian Star.