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MHA: Bat to the Future: The Other Midoriya
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The rest of the operation played out exactly as Nero and L had envisioned. Erwin discreetly sent a list of HYDRA agents he wanted eliminated—those whose continued existence served neither HYDRA nor SHIELD. Meanwhile, L focused on tracking the names easy enough to find without raising suspicion.
The execution of the plan was seamless. Most of the individuals on the list were eliminated by "unknown" assassins, thanks to Ezio's guild, though Fury didn't need to know that detail. The remaining names, strategically chosen, were handed over to Fury under the pretense of cleaning SHIELD of HYDRA's infiltration.
Standing in his office, Fury glanced over the report Erwin had provided. His expression was hard to read as his phone connected to L's line. Erwin remained nearby, leaning against the edge of the desk, arms crossed.
When L answered, he skipped any pleasantries. "I assume you're satisfied with the results, Director?"
Fury let out a low breath. "You delivered. HYDRA's presence in SHIELD is weaker now than it's been in years. But that doesn't mean I'm not questioning how you got this information."
"You hired me to uncover HYDRA, and that's what I did," L said, his tone flat.
Erwin acted like the middleman he was, straddling the fine line between his roles. The identity Sorella had crafted for him and L suggested both were friends for years, one climbed the ranks swiftly due to his sharp thinking and unflinching resolve and become one of the top agents in SHIELD, while the other was one of the best Private Detectives in the country. This veneer allowed them to move seamlessly between SHIELD's operations and Nero's plans.
"This is solid work," Fury said, setting the folder down. "But I can't help wondering why these names slipped through our net for so long."
"Bureaucracy," Erwin said simply. "And complacency. HYDRA thrives on both."
Fury's gaze lingered on him, unreadable. "You don't seem the type to get complacent."
Erwin met Fury's stare without hesitation. "That's why I'm here. To make sure we don't slip again."
Fury gave a brief nod and looked at the list in front of him, his attention sharp. "How come most of the names on this list have gone MIA in the last few days?"
L's voice was clipped. "I doubt HYDRA is merciful to employees who fail their tasks. The timing isn't surprising."
Fury leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming lightly against the desk. "So you're suggesting HYDRA cleaned house before we got to them?"
"Partially," L replied. "The ones who were convenient for HYDRA to dispose of are gone. The rest? Likely lying low. HYDRA's paranoia doesn't leave much room for second chances."
Erwin, standing off to the side, interjected, "Even HYDRA isn't immune to panic. Pierce's disappearance sent shockwaves through their ranks. The power vacuum it created put everyone on edge."
Fury's gaze shifted to Erwin. "You think Pierce's loss shook them that much?"
Erwin gave a slight nod. "He was deeply embedded in both SHIELD and HYDRA's infrastructure. Losing someone like him forces everyone to reassess where their loyalties lie. Those who were too slow or too obvious would've been dealt with swiftly."
Fury murmured, "I'll keep in touch, Lawliet," before ending the call. He turned his gaze to Erwin. "I didn't want to believe those masked people, but they were right. We were compromised."
Erwin didn't respond immediately, letting the weight of Fury's admission settle in the room. "The question isn't whether we were compromised. It's how deep the breach goes and how long it's been there."
Fury's hand tapped the edge of the desk once, his brow furrowing. "Pierce was just the start. We've uncovered a few cells, but this isn't a Hydra we've dealt with before. They're quiet, embedded. Like goddamn termites."
Erwin nodded slightly, as if considering the metaphor. "And just like termites, you don't see them until the damage is already done."
"Which is why we don't have the luxury of waiting for their next move," Fury said sharply. "You're already in position, Erwin. I need you to stay on top of this. Lawliet's doing his part outside the system; you'll do yours inside."
"Understood," Erwin said without hesitation.
Fury leaned back slightly, his tone hardening. "And if you find anyone else like Pierce, you don't bring them in. You take them out. Quietly. We can't afford the noise."
"Consider it handled," Erwin replied, his tone steady.
Fury gave a curt nod and stood, signaling the end of the discussion. "Stay alert. They'll be watching for anyone trying to clean house. If you're not careful, they'll come for you next."
Fury walked out of SHIELD HQ, stepping into an inconspicuous black SUV. He drove for nearly half an hour before pulling up to a safe house tucked discreetly in a quiet suburban neighborhood. The windows were reinforced, the curtains drawn, and the faint hum of hidden surveillance equipment signaled this was anything but ordinary.
Inside, Coulson, Natasha, and Maria Hill were waiting. Coulson sat at the table, his tablet in hand, scrolling through dossiers. Natasha leaned against the counter, her arms crossed, observing the room. Maria stood by a whiteboard filled with timelines and notes, holding a marker but not writing anything at the moment.
Fury entered without a word, shrugging off his coat and heading straight to the counter. He grabbed a glass, poured himself a measure of whiskey, and took a seat at the table across from Coulson.
"So," Coulson said, breaking the silence, "how bad is it?"
Fury swirled the glass in his hand before answering. "Bad enough. Pierce was just the tip of the iceberg. HYDRA's deeper in SHIELD than we thought, and this rabbit hole keeps getting darker."
Coulson frowned, his tablet lowering slightly. "How could this happen?"
Fury set his glass down and leaned forward, the weight of the situation evident in the way he spoke. "Arnim Zola. Operation Paperclip. We gave a snake a seat at the table, and we thought we could keep it tame."
Natasha crossed her arms, her voice steady. "And we kept feeding it."
Fury nodded. "HYDRA didn't just survive; it evolved. While we were busy chasing their remnants, they embedded themselves right under our noses—our ranks, our infrastructure. They played the long game, and now it's paying off."
Maria stepped away from the whiteboard, tapping the cap of the marker against her palm. "Do we know how far the breach goes?"
"Not yet," Fury admitted. "But the Vigilantes' intel wasn't wrong. If Pierce was a symptom, the disease has spread deeper than we thought."
Natasha tilted her head slightly. "And how much of this comes back to Pierce? Was he the head of the snake, or just another pawn?"
"Pierce was many things," Fury said, leaning back slightly. "But he wasn't the top. He reported to someone. Maybe multiple someones." He looked at Coulson. "That's why we can't stop at cleaning house. We have to burn it to the ground, root and stem."
Coulson exhaled, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the tablet. "Burning it down is easy. Rebuilding after? That's a different story."
"We're not rebuilding yet," Fury said firmly. "We're still figuring out who we can trust. That list is shorter than ever, and if we're not careful, it'll shrink even more."
Maria gestured toward the board, where a crude organizational chart was scrawled in marker, filled with gaps and question marks. "Who do we have? Names, not positions."
Fury's gaze flicked to the chart. "Hill, you. Romanoff. Rogers when he's up to speed. Barton, maybe. Beyond that..." He trailed off.
Natasha frowned. "What about Smith? He's been climbing the ranks faster than anyone, and he's been right in the middle of this mess."
The room went silent for a moment, the weight of the question hanging in the air. Fury didn't respond immediately, swirling his glass in his hand before taking a small sip. Finally, he set it down and spoke. "Smith's new. But he's sharp. He's proven himself useful, and until he gives me a reason to doubt him, I trust him."
Maria exchanged a glance with Natasha but didn't press the point. Coulson spoke up instead. "I worked with Erwin on several occasions. He's sharp, capable. But…" He hesitated, his voice lowering slightly. "I trusted Pierce too."
Fury set his glass down, his eyes narrowing at Coulson. "Pierce fooled all of us. That's not on you."
"I know," Coulson said. "But it's a reminder that being good at your job doesn't make you untouchable." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Erwin's effective. That's clear. But if there's even a sliver of doubt—"
"There's no doubt," Fury cut in, his tone firm. "Not unless he gives me a reason. Until then, we don't waste time second-guessing."
Natasha shifted her weight against the counter. "It's not second-guessing to keep an eye on people, Fury. You brought me in to do exactly that."
"And you'll keep doing it," Fury said, not looking at her. "But we don't chase shadows when we need to focus on the enemy we can see. HYDRA is still out there, and they're not going to wait for us to finish our trust exercises."
Maria stepped back toward the board, tapping the list of names Fury had provided. "The remaining cells—are we hitting them next?"
Fury shook his head. "What are the Masked Vigilantes up to? Any news?"
Coulson slid his tablet across the table. A world map lit up on the screen, scattered with red pings. "They've been busy. Seven incidents in the last week alone—Greece, Mumbai, Caracas, Tokyo, Istanbul, New York, and Johannesburg. All high-value targets, but no casualties on the civilian side."
Natasha leaned over, scanning the map. "They're hitting global hotspots. HYDRA facilities?"
"Mostly," Coulson replied, tapping a cluster of pings near Istanbul. "Here, they dismantled a supply chain tied to HYDRA's experimental weapons. In Tokyo, they wiped out an unregistered AIM lab. Whoever they are, they're cleaning house faster than we are."
Maria folded her arms. "And we still don't have a single lead on who they are?"
"None," Coulson admitted. "Every attempt at surveillance or tracking has failed. They show up, do the job, and vanish. No names, no connections. It's like they don't exist."
Natasha smirked faintly. "That's a little hypocritical, coming from SHIELD."
Fury ignored the jab, narrowing his eyes at the map. "They're coordinated. That's not a coincidence. Someone is pulling the strings, and whoever it is, they're not playing small."
"Maybe they don't need to," Maria said. "If they're hitting HYDRA this hard, they might think they're above alliances."
Coulson raised an eyebrow. "Or they're just smart enough to stay out of SHIELD's reach. Every move we make to trace them ends up as a dead end. If they wanted to stay hidden, they're succeeding."
Natasha turned to Fury. "So what's the plan? Are we letting them keep doing our job for us, or are we stepping in?"
Fury stared at the map for a long moment before answering. "We keep watching. If they're targeting HYDRA, that works for us. But if their agenda changes—if they start hitting assets outside that scope—we'll treat them like any other rogue element."
Hill shook her head, tapping the tablet as she spoke. "I doubt they'd change their agenda unless we did something to force it. Even if they're targeting HYDRA facilities, they aren't just hitting locations that house agents. Look closer—they're prioritizing places that rescue hostages, dismantle experiments, or destroy drug and weapons supply chains. Their focus seems to be helping people, one way or another."
Coulson glanced at the screen. "That lines up with what we've seen. They're not just about taking down HYDRA—they're cleaning up the mess HYDRA leaves behind."
Natasha crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful. "It's tactical, though. They don't waste time on small fish. Everything they hit has been tied to significant HYDRA operations. It's almost surgical."
Fury leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Surgical or not, it's still a wildcard in play. I don't like wildcards."
Hill turned the screen toward him. "With respect, sir, they're not reckless. Every move they've made has been calculated. If anything, they're cleaning up where we've failed."
Fury's gaze lingered on the tablet for a moment before looking at Hill. "Cleaning up isn't the same as finishing the job. What happens when their definition of helping doesn't line up with ours?"
Hill stared at Fury, her tone flat. "If their definition doesn't change, then we did something wrong."
Fury didn't respond immediately, his fingers drumming against the table. Coulson, sitting across from him, shifted in his chair. "She's got a point. They've done more to dismantle HYDRA operations in a few months than we have in years. If they're stepping into our lane, it's because we left it wide open."
Natasha pushed off the counter, arms still crossed. "That doesn't mean they're our allies. Cleaning up HYDRA doesn't automatically make them harmless."
"Harmless isn't the point," Hill cut in. "It's not their job to work with us. It's our job to stop falling short."
"Maybe we should ask them," Coulson offered, his voice light but with an edge of sincerity. "Reach out. If they're already doing the work, why not coordinate?"
Fury's expression hardened, and he shook his head. "They're not interested in working with SHIELD. They've made that clear. They don't trust us, and I don't trust them."
Hill raised an eyebrow. "Then what's the alternative? Wait for them to make a mistake so we can swoop in and make an enemy of the only group that's consistently dismantling HYDRA?"
Natasha's tone sharpened slightly. "No one's saying we pick a fight with them, but blind faith in vigilantes is a good way to lose control. We need to stay ahead of them, not react to what they're doing."
Fury leaned forward. "We stay out of their way for now. Let them keep punching HYDRA in the throat. But the second they shift their focus—or if their priorities don't align with ours anymore—we'll be ready."
Fury's meeting adjourned with little fanfare. He didn't waste time as he got into his SUV and drove to Malibu. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the coastal hills as he pulled up to Tony Stark's estate. The sleek glass-and-metal home perched above the cliff was quiet, save for the faint hum of machinery emanating from within. Fury didn't bother announcing himself.
Inside, Tony Stark sat at a counter, tinkering with a miniature arc reactor, oblivious to the sudden arrival. The AI assistant, JARVIS, detected Fury before Stark did.
"Director Fury is here," JARVIS informed.
Tony's hand stilled for half a second before he exhaled audibly. "And here I was thinking I could get through the day without SHIELD barging into my house."
Fury stepped into the room without preamble, hands in his coat pockets. "If you wanted privacy, you shouldn't have built a house with no doors."
Tony smirked, setting the reactor down. "Cute. What's the emergency?"
Fury ignored the jab, his tone direct. "I need you to contact the Masked Vigilantes."
Tony blinked, then laughed. "Oh, yeah, sure. Let me just dial 1-800-Mask-Squad and hope they pick up. What makes you think I have them on speed dial?"
Tony tapped his fingers against the couch, considering. "And what makes you think they'll even bother listening? Hell, I barely get to use that app, and it's my suit they hijacked."
Fury's expression didn't shift. "You owe me."
Tony groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Why is it always about debts with you? Alright, fine. But don't get your hopes up if they hang up halfway through."
He stood, moving toward the bar, grabbing his glass on the way. "JARVIS, initiate the connection. You know the one."
The AI's voice chimed in. "Mr. Stark, as a reminder, the connection bypasses standard communication protocols and cannot be traced. Are you sure you wish to proceed?"
"Yeah, yeah, just do it," Tony said, waving a hand as he sipped his drink.
Fury watched as a faint hum signaled the connection was live. The glass display embedded in Tony's table blinked once, then the call connected to an audio-only line.
Sofia's voice came through. "Iron Man, what do you want?"
"It's not me this time," Tony said, stepping back and motioning for Fury to take over.
Fury didn't waste time. "This is Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD. I need to speak to your leader."
There was a pause. Sofia's voice returned, unimpressed. "Bold of you to think we'd take orders from SHIELD."
"It's not an order," Fury replied. "It's a request. We have a mutual enemy, and sitting on opposite sides of the table isn't helping anyone."
Another brief silence. Then Sofia spoke again, her tone flat. "Hold."
The line went quiet, and Tony turned to Fury. "See? Not exactly rolling out the welcome mat for you."
Fury ignored him, standing motionless as the line reconnected. This time, Nero's voice came through. "Director Fury," Nero began, "I assume you've called for a reason."
"To meet," Fury said bluntly. "Face-to-face. No intermediaries."
Nero's voice on the other end was amused. "Sure, come to Moscow tomorrow at noon, local time. We'll find you."
Tony raised an eyebrow and gestured at the phone. "Just like that?"
"Hey," Nero chuckled, "we left a line for you if you ever got lonely. Not my fault you never used it."
Fury cut in, ignoring Tony's quip. "This isn't about playing games. We meet, we talk, and we make it productive."
Nero's response came quickly, the humor still present. "Of course, Director. You bring the conversation, we'll bring the hospitality. Moscow. Noon. Don't be late."
The line went dead before Fury could respond.
Tony swirled the drink in his hand, glancing at Fury. "They're confident, I'll give them that. You sure this is a good idea?"
Fury slipped his phone into his coat pocket. "No, but it's the only idea. They've been running circles around HYDRA and SHIELD. I want to know what their endgame is."
Tony shrugged, finishing his drink. "Hope you've got your travel plans sorted. Moscow's a hike, even for someone with your frequent flyer miles."
Fury turned on his heel, heading for the door. "I'll handle it. You just keep an eye on them from your end."
Tony raised his empty glass in mock salute. "Sure thing, Nick. Enjoy the cold."
The next day – Moscow, noon local time.
Fury stepped out of the car he rented at the airport, the cold air biting at his face as he pulled his coat tighter. The streets were busy, the chatter of pedestrians blending with the low hum of passing cars. He walked down a narrow street until he found a small café with a scattering of outdoor tables. It wasn't a place he'd chosen for any particular reason, just one that looked inconspicuous enough.
Fury entered, ordered an espresso, and took a seat at a corner table by the window. He sat back, his eyes scanning the street outside through the reflection in the glass. No tail, no familiar faces, but Fury knew better than to trust the surface of things. They'd find him, as promised.
The coffee had barely cooled when someone approached. Fury didn't look up immediately, his instincts trained to catch movements in his peripheral vision. The figure sat directly across from him, the scrape of the chair legs against the pavement deliberate, the movements calm.
When Fury finally raised his eyes, he froze, his grip tightening slightly around the cup. The man sitting across from him wasn't just familiar—he was impossible. The sharp suit, the neatly combed blonde hair, the icy blue gaze. Fury's mind immediately registered the illusion.
"President... You've got to be kidding me," Fury said, his voice low.
The man tilted his head slightly, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips. "Director Fury," he said smoothly. The voice was flawless, down to the cadence.
Fury didn't break eye contact, but his body language shifted slightly, his left hand moving closer to the edge of the table. "You think this is funny?"
The man across from him shrugged. "Not particularly. But it got your attention, didn't it?"
Fury leaned back, exhaling slowly. "If this is how you want to start things, you're not doing yourself any favors."
The man across from Fury chuckled, his tone carrying a dry amusement. "There seems to be a misunderstanding here, Mr. Fury. I'm the one doing you a favor. I don't need anything from SHIELD or you, specifically. You wanted this meeting, and I obliged. If you don't have anything worth saying, don't waste my time. Presiding over a country is a difficult job."
Fury leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "You're awfully cooperative for someone who supposedly doesn't need anything. Call me skeptical, but people don't just drop their responsibilities for casual chats."
The man smirked faintly, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "You think this is casual? I assure you, I don't go out of my way to meet with every spy who wants a moment of my attention. You called because you wanted answers. I'm here because you've piqued my curiosity. But don't mistake curiosity for necessity."
Fury's eyes narrowed. "Then let's skip the games. You're working against HYDRA—aggressively. I want to know why."
The man placed his cup back on the saucer with a faint clink and tilted his head slightly. "And why would that matter to you? As far as I can tell, we're doing your job for you. You should be grateful."
"Gratitude's not in my job description," Fury shot back. "When someone steps into a fight like this, it's never out of the kindness of their heart. So I'll ask again—what's your endgame?"
The man leaned back in his chair, his expression calm. "You're looking for a villain in a story that doesn't need one. HYDRA is a threat to everyone, Director, not just SHIELD. We eliminate threats. It's as simple as that."
Fury's lips pressed into a thin line. "You expect me to believe you're doing all this out of altruism?"
The man laughed, a short, almost dismissive sound. "Again, I don't expect you to do anything. I simply don't care. I have power, motive, moral high ground, and a bit of free time, so I go after HYDRA today. Tomorrow, I might target someone else. The question is, what can you do about it? Since the answer is nothing, you should stop talking from that high horse."
Fury didn't flinch. "You talk about power and motives like they're justification enough, but you're not convincing me. HYDRA's not just a threat you swat away for fun. They're embedded. Coordinated. You don't dismantle something like that without an agenda."
The man leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady but carrying an edge. "If you think dismantling HYDRA requires some grand moral justification, then you've missed the point. They've overstayed their welcome. That's it. Call it a personal grudge, call it boredom, call it civic duty—it doesn't matter. They're done."
"Convenient for you," Fury replied. "But if you're done with HYDRA tomorrow, what happens when you set your sights on something else? Or someone else? The kind of power you're flaunting doesn't just disappear."
"That's the beauty of it," the man said. "You don't get a say in where my sights go next. Neither does SHIELD. Or HYDRA. Or anyone else for that matter."
Fury's fingers drummed lightly against the table. "You think you're untouchable. But no one operates without consequences. Not even you."
"I've already calculated my consequences," the man replied, his tone sharp and matter-of-fact. "And I've accepted them. Can you say the same, Director? Or are you still clinging to the illusion that SHIELD can hold back the tides forever?"
"You're not the first to underestimate what SHIELD can do," Fury said.
"And SHIELD isn't the first organization to overestimate its position," the man countered. "Empires fall, Director. It's the natural order. HYDRA thought it could outlast history. It won't. SHIELD? Give it a decade. Maybe two. But you'll fall too."
Fury's jaw tightened. "We'll see about that."
The man smirked, the faintest flicker of amusement passing over his face. "I suppose we will."
Fury leaned back slightly, adjusting his coat. "You still haven't answered the question that matters. Why bring me here if you don't care about working with SHIELD?"
"Because I want you to understand something," the man said, his tone firm, direct. "I'm not your ally. I'm not your enemy. I'm not part of your system. You're not the center of this universe. Hell, you're not even the center of this world."
Fury's eyes narrowed slightly, but he stayed quiet, letting the man continue.
"You call yourself Director of SHIELD, as if it means something to anyone outside your bubble. Do you want me to name ten beings who could erase SHIELD from existence in seconds? At least that many organizations that could dismantle your infrastructure before you even realize it's happening?" The man's voice didn't rise; it didn't need to. "Don't confuse arrogance with confidence, Fury. You're not untouchable. You're not invincible. You're not even worthy of their attention."
Fury's fingers tapped the side of his coffee cup once before stilling. "That's quite the lecture. So, what are you saying? That SHIELD's irrelevant?"
"Not irrelevant. Small," the man corrected. "You think you're the lynchpin holding the world together, the first and last line of defense. But the truth is, you're just one piece on a board you don't control."
Fury leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "And you do?"
The man smiled faintly, as if humored by the question. "Control? No. But I understand the board better than you. I understand where SHIELD fits, what its role is—and more importantly, what it isn't. And I understand when a piece becomes too arrogant for its own good."
Fury tilted his head slightly, studying him. "You've got a lot of opinions for someone who went out of their way to meet me. If we're so small, why bother?"
The man's smile widened, just enough to be unsettling. "Because I wanted to see if you understood your place, Director. If you understood that not every fight is yours to win—or lose. HYDRA? They're not your exclusive problem. They're a nuisance, like termites in the wood. And termites don't require a hammer to deal with."
Fury let the words hang in the air for a moment. "If HYDRA's just a nuisance to you, why bother taking them out?"
The man laughed again. "Back to altruism," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I hit the facilities where they either directly hurt innocents or create the means to hurt innocents. And since I have power, motive, moral high ground, and a bit of free time, I destroy them. Simple, isn't it?"
Fury leaned back slightly, the edge of his cup tapping against the saucer. "You make it sound like a side gig. Like HYDRA is just some minor inconvenience."
The man smiled faintly. "HYDRA is like a weed. You don't waste time philosophizing about weeds—you uproot them when they get too big, so the garden doesn't rot." He motioned toward the café's modest window. "You've let yours grow wild. Now someone else has to prune it."
"Someone else," Fury repeated, his voice flat. "And that someone just happens to pick HYDRA's biggest operations to 'prune' without leaving a trace. What a coincidence."
The man's tone remained level, but his words carried a sharper edge. "Not coincidence. Calculated. I destroy what matters most to them—their infrastructure, their experiments, their secrets. The things that actually hold power. What's left after that? Desperate men with guns. Dangerous, yes. But manageable."
Fury didn't blink. "And when HYDRA's gone, what then? You find another garden to trim?"
"Maybe," the man said, his gaze unwavering. "Or maybe I take a break and let you handle things for a while. Though given SHIELD's recent track record, I wouldn't count on it."
Fury let the jab slide, setting his cup down. "If you're so eager to do the work, why meet me at all? Why not keep hiding in the shadows?"
The man stood, smoothing his suit. "You assume a lot, Mr. Fury," he said, his voice almost amused. "You assume I'm here. Despite seeing through the illusion, you think I'm close by. You assume I dropped everything to chat with you. You assume I need you." He stepped back from the table, his gaze unwavering. "Let me make it clear. The vision you see is a side effect of the coffee you drank. I'm not in Moscow. I'm in New York right now. Surprise."
Fury didn't react visibly, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly.
The man gestured vaguely toward the street outside. "I called you here for a bit of fun—a prank, if you will. Because I can speak to you from across the globe without lifting a finger, and I haven't stopped working for a single moment. But since I've had my fun, I'll leave you to ponder that. You have a good day, Mr. Fury."
And with that, the illusion dissipated, the chair across from Fury now empty. The faint echo of the man's voice lingered, though it could have been Fury's imagination. Fury glanced down at the untouched espresso in front of him, his expression hard as stone, before he stood, his coat swaying as he made his way toward the door.
As he stepped outside into the cold Moscow air, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. A text from Erwin.
"Meeting productive?"
Fury smirked faintly, typing a response with his thumb. "Let's just say I got what I needed."
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