Are the Asgardians really aliens?
After hearing Richard's casual revelation, both Wanda and Pietro stared at him with identical expressions of stunned disbelief. Despite possessing supernatural abilities that defied conventional understanding of reality, accepting that the Norse gods from ancient mythology were actually extraterrestrial beings felt like a bridge too far.
"Are you absolutely certain about what you're telling us?" Wanda asked, her voice carefully controlled as she searched Richard's face for any sign of deception.
"Completely certain," Richard replied with the same matter-of-fact tone he might use to discuss the weather.
The calm confidence in his expression gradually convinced both siblings that he wasn't fabricating such an outlandish claim. If Richard said the Asgardians were real, then they probably were. After everything they'd witnessed since meeting him, doubting his word seemed foolish.
"Let's table this discussion for now," Richard continued, already beginning to mentally shift focus to his upcoming travels. "If things proceed as I expect, you'll likely have the opportunity to meet the legendary Thor himself within the next few months to a year or two."
He looked at both siblings, his expression growing slightly more serious. "I'm heading out now. Remember what I said—if you need anything at all, just call or send a message."
Wanda stepped closer, her features softening with genuine concern. "Stay safe out there. We'll be here waiting for you when you get back."
Richard nodded acknowledgment of her words, then activated his teleportation ability and vanished from their sight.
Washington, D.C.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters - Triskelion Building
In the director's office of the imposing headquarters, Nick Fury sat behind his expansive desk, his signature black leather coat draped over his shoulders as he scrutinized classified documents displayed on his computer screen. The investigation report currently demanding his attention concerned the mysterious attack on Security Council member Alexander Pierce.
Pierce had been remarkably unhelpful during questioning about his assailant's identity. When pressed for details, the man had delivered what Fury now recognized as an Academy Award-worthy performance, claiming he'd only glimpsed a shadowy figure before being struck down by some kind of energy weapon. No clear view of the attacker's face, no distinguishing characteristics—just vague descriptions of darkness and pain.
Pierce's reasoning for maintaining this deception was brutally practical. While he didn't fully comprehend the extent of Richard's capabilities, he understood with crystal clarity that if Richard wanted him dead, the effort required would be roughly equivalent to swatting a fly. When someone possessed that level of power, antagonizing them by revealing their identity to S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed like an excellent way to ensure a swift and permanent end to one's existence.
With no additional witnesses to the attack, Pierce felt confident that his fabricated account would hold up under scrutiny. Unless Richard decided to personally visit Nick Fury and confess to the assault—which seemed highly unlikely—Pierce's version of events would remain the official record.
Nick Fury, for his part, wasn't particularly surprised by the lack of concrete information. If this mysterious attacker could be identified and located through conventional investigative methods, they probably wouldn't have been capable of successfully assaulting a high-ranking Security Council member in the first place.
Following his unproductive interview with Pierce, Fury had mobilized S.H.I.E.L.D.'s considerable resources to hunt for information about this "shadow figure." As an intelligence organization with backing from the United Nations and access to surveillance networks across the globe, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s information-gathering capabilities were virtually unmatched.
Yet despite expending significant manpower and financial resources on the investigation, they had uncovered absolutely nothing. If not for Pierce's very real injuries—wounds that clearly hadn't been inflicted by conventional weapons—Fury might have begun questioning whether the attack had actually occurred.
As Fury reached the end of the comprehensive investigation report, he noted that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s technical analysts had managed to extract some useful intelligence from Pierce's injuries themselves. By examining the precise nature of the wounds, they'd determined that the weapon used was some form of high-temperature energy beam capable of reaching several thousand degrees Fahrenheit. Additionally, the fact that the attack had occurred within Pierce's supposedly secure office suggested the perpetrator possessed teleportation abilities or some other form of instantaneous movement.
A superhuman capable of projecting intense thermal energy and possessing suspected teleportation capabilities—that was the extent of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s current intelligence profile.
After reviewing the findings, Fury spent several minutes in contemplation before adding his own assessment to the file. His fingers moved across the keyboard as he typed a final note in the report's conclusion section:
"Subject designated 'Ghost.' Develop capture and elimination protocols based on demonstrated supernatural capabilities. Priority Level: Alpha."
With that entry complete, Fury uploaded the report to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secure central database and stood up from his desk. He moved to the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a commanding view of the Potomac River, his single eye scanning the horizon as he considered potential avenues for gathering additional intelligence on this mysterious Ghost.
What Nick Fury couldn't have imagined was that the very individual he was hunting was, at that precise moment, sitting calmly in Alexander Pierce's office several floors below.
Pierce's Office
"I'm going to kill Nick Fury today," Richard announced with the same casual tone someone might use to discuss their lunch plans.
Pierce, who had been reviewing routine Security Council documents, froze completely. It had been nearly two months since Richard's last visit—two months during which Pierce had assumed Richard was busy consolidating control over various Hydra cells. The complete radio silence had been both relieving and nerve-wracking.
"Are you... are you serious about this?" Pierce asked after several seconds of stunned silence.
"Completely serious," Richard confirmed. "Though I should clarify—I'm not killing him to hand S.H.I.E.L.D. over to you. I'm doing it because I find him irritating."
Pierce's brow furrowed as he tried to process this unexpected development. "If Fury dies, the Security Council will immediately begin discussing candidates for his replacement. Don't you want to position one of your allies to take control of the organization?"
"I have zero interest in controlling S.H.I.E.L.D.," Richard replied with complete indifference. "Moreover, I've lost interest in Hydra as well."
Despite Richard's calm demeanor, something in his tone triggered a deep sense of unease in Pierce. The implications of Richard's disinterest in Hydra were potentially catastrophic for someone in Pierce's position.
Before Pierce could formulate a response, Richard continued speaking with the same unsettling calm.
"You're correct in your assessment—I no longer plan to unify Hydra under my leadership." His eyes began to glow with an ominous red light. "Which means you've outlived your usefulness to me."
The heat vision struck Pierce's head with surgical precision, causing it to explode like a watermelon dropped from a skyscraper. Blood, bone fragments, and brain matter sprayed across the office in a grotesque pattern, immediately painting the desk and surrounding walls in crimson.
Richard casually erected a magical barrier around himself, deflecting the gore that would have otherwise stained his clothes. After taking a final look at Pierce's headless corpse, he teleported away from the office without ceremony.
His destination wasn't the exit—instead, he materialized directly in Nick Fury's director's office several floors above.
Director's Office
Richard's teleportation was completely silent, but Nick Fury's survival instincts, honed by decades of espionage work, detected the presence immediately. The reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window revealed a figure that hadn't been there seconds before.
Without hesitation, Fury's hand moved toward his sidearm with practiced efficiency. His reaction time was impressive—the result of countless hours of training and real-world experience in life-or-death situations.
Unfortunately for Nick Fury, impressive wasn't the same as adequate.
Before Fury could complete his draw, Richard's heat vision punched through the back of his skull with devastating effect. The S.H.I.E.L.D. director collapsed to the floor, his body hitting the polished surface with a dull thud that echoed through the suddenly silent office.
Richard stood motionless for a moment, studying the scene with detached interest. Two problems eliminated in less than five minutes—efficient by any measure.