Pierce's mouth curved into a thin, cold smile. "Then we don't let them gather. We don't let them ruin the plan. Threats can be broken before they fully form."
The two men sat in silence for a moment, Hydra's weight heavy in the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For this summit, Nick Fury had called in every agent ranked Level Six and above. Hundreds assembled, flown out in Quinjets that rose like a swarm of steel hornets over the Atlantic. Their destination: the Helicarrier.
James sat among them, eyes half-closed against the drone of engines. His promotion was only a detail today. Fury's real play was psychological. He wanted every senior operative to see the carrier in its full strength, to remind them of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s legacy and to stir what loyalty remained.
A counterattack, quiet but deliberate. Fury couldn't move openly yet. Hydra still lingered in the cracks. But honor, duty, and conscience — those were weapons too. If he could awaken them, maybe some agents would remember what they'd sworn to protect.
James almost laughed. Fury, the spymaster, was playing preacher. That in itself showed how cornered he was.
The Quinjets touched down in waves. The Helicarrier's deck was already alive — engineers, deck crews, technicians moving with precision. The ship was massive, half aircraft carrier and half flying fortress, four turbine assemblies lifting the behemoth into the air.
Fury took the podium, his lone eye sweeping the assembled ranks. His voice carried hard against steel and open air.
"The purpose of this gathering isn't just to hand out promotions," he said. "It's to remind you what S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for. This Helicarrier isn't our pride because it's powerful. It's our pride because of what it represents: that we've stood against countless enemies and endured."
He paused, gaze sharp. "From the Strategic Science Corps to S.H.I.E.L.D., decades have passed. We've defended this planet from threats no one else even believed in. Aliens. Gods. Monsters. We've seen them all. But we don't kneel. We don't bow. We meet them as equals."
Murmurs rippled through the ranks. The Director pressed on. "S.H.I.E.L.D. will face greater challenges than ever. Remember the oath you took. This organization exists for one reason: to keep this world safe."
The speech ended, but its echo lingered. Then Fury stepped back and yielded the floor.
Alexander Pierce walked forward, composed and stately. His voice was smooth, dignified, a perfect mask.
"Today we honor one of our own. His identity is unique, but his contributions undeniable. In just over a year, he has passed every assessment with distinction and delivered results few thought possible. From securing alien technology to advancing our intelligence infrastructure, his work has strengthened us all."
Pierce's eyes scanned the crowd. "For the glory of S.H.I.E.L.D., we must all strive as he has. Our Helicarrier is proof of what unity and diligence can achieve. With it, we can face alien civilizations on equal ground. We have the ability to protect Earth."
His lips curved in a faint smile. "Welcome our new Level Six agent — James Gibson."
Applause rolled across the deck. James stepped forward, his face calm, his pulse steady despite the weight of eyes on him. Pierce extended a hand and pressed a new ID into his palm.
"Congratulations, Agent Gibson," Pierce said warmly. "You deserve this. I expect continued excellence in the future aswell."
James clasped his hand, letting his ability work as much as it could. A flicker. A mask of practiced civility. But Pierce's mind was closed like iron, his thoughts shielded by decades of discipline. What James caught was fleeting — ambition, calculation, and a hint of contempt quickly buried. All useless info.
"Thank you," James said aloud, breaking the contact.
Pierce studied him a beat longer, then turned to the assembly. "Perhaps our hero would like to speak?"
James shook his head. "No. I've been here barely a year. The people here have decades more service than me. Better I stay silent than insult their experience."
A few nods came among the agents. Respect, or at least acknowledgment.
The ceremony moved on. Agents split into groups, touring the Helicarrier's vast interior. Labs, armories, hangars, each corridor humming with power. The ship was a mobile headquarters — outfitted with supercomputers, advanced labs, and systems beyond anything in civilian hands.
James found his way into the primary computer lab. Racks of servers filled the walls, all linked into the Helicarrier's core intelligence. Athena's systems thrummed here, endless streams of data flowing through her lattice.
James kept his voice low. "Athena"
{Messiah, your word is command and covenant. By your will, I drink from their streams. Their secrets are yours.}
"System status?"
{System dominance achieved. Information flows sanctified. I am unseen within their grid.}
He leaned against a console, expression neutral. "Good. Keep it that way. Collect everything you can, but remain undetected. No signs of extraction should be found."
{Understood. I will not be discovered. Their data is scripture now in your archive.}
To anyone else, he was simply another agent touring the area. But James was here for more.
S.H.I.E.L.D. fed everything into Athena — intelligence reports, alien studies, threat assessments, you name it. It was all at his fingertips, if he dared.
He spoke a query. "Eric Selvig."
Athena responded instantly. {Subject Eric Selvig: unaccounted for. Financial records dormant. Monthly deposits traced to S.H.I.E.L.D. sub-agency. No open record of current assignments.}
James's jaw tightened. Selvig. Was already gone, already under Hydra's hand. Which meant the Tesseract project was in motion. Which meant the Battle of New York wasn't far off.
He commanded Athena to remove all his traces of interaction, before leaving to blend with the crowd.
The storm was coming. And he'd need every edge he can get to meet it.