Hearing Maguire's words, Nick Fury—who had just sat down—sprang to his feet. He fixed a stern stare on Maguire, who was leisurely smoking a cigar.
Maguire glanced at him and smirked.
"What's wrong? Why'd you jump up all of a sudden—your hemorrhoids acting up?"
Natasha, Hawkeye, and Coulson fought to keep straight faces. Garfield and Holland didn't; they burst out laughing.
Fury's face turned the color of an eggplant. Even so, looking at the man in front of him, he didn't dare go too far. He said coldly,
"I do not have hemorrhoids."
"Oh? Got it," Maguire said, all faux-enlightened. "No need to be so formal. Sit down and talk. I'm a reasonable guy."
Everyone around them went speechless.
Fury didn't know whether to stand or sit and wound up frozen in place.
Maguire tilted his head.
"Don't tell me I was right—S.H.I.E.L.D. really doesn't have an ashtray?"
"That won't do," he added, suddenly solemn. "I'm a very civilized, well-mannered person. I'm not ashing on your floor."
In everyone's hearts galloped ten thousand horses:
"Civilized? Yesterday you were painting the town red."
Fury cut a look at Coulson.
"Coulson. Ashtray."
Coulson sighed inwardly—boss's orders—and went to fetch one. A moment later he set it in front of Maguire.
Maguire tapped the ash.
"Alright. Now we can talk."
Fury began,
"I'd like to know if you, Garfield, and Holland are willing to join S.H.I.E.L.D."
Before Maguire could answer, Garfield and Holland blurted,
"Maguire can decide for us."
Fury turned to him, clearly seeking his call.
Maguire took a slow drag and smiled thinly.
"Director Fury, I think you've got the wrong idea."
Fury sighed inside.
"So it's come to this… For someone like him, money and status are nothing. There's nothing we can dangle. Guess I'll have to sell the mission."
He said aloud,
"S.H.I.E.L.D. can't offer special perks. Our duty is to protect Earth. The three of you are powerful, yes, but you're outnumbered and under-equipped. Only by joining S.H.I.E.L.D. can you maximize your abilities."
Garfield and Holland nodded despite themselves—it sounded reasonable.
Natasha, meanwhile, almost laughed: That pitch wasn't going to work on this one.
Maguire chuckled.
"Sorry—what does any of that have to do with me?"
Fury was stunned.
"You really don't play by the script, do you?"
"We're not here to enlist," Maguire said evenly. "We're here to discuss cooperation between our Spider Alliance and S.H.I.E.L.D."
Fury let out the breath he'd been holding. At least they were talking business; one wrong word and this guy might just start a fight.
"Alright," Fury said.
Maguire thought to himself: S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intel network leaves us in the dust. If I want more Evil Points, I need friendly contact with plot figures and villains alike. Teaming up with S.H.I.E.L.D. is a necessary move.
He laid it out:
"When you run into problems and need us, we can assist. But we retain full freedom and don't take your orders. Also, whenever S.H.I.E.L.D. encounters superpowered individuals, you inform the Spider Alliance."
Fury mused: The terms weren't excessive—just annoying to deal with. If not for necessity, he'd rather not be under the same roof with this guy. Bring that temperament into HQ and the whole place would be in chaos.
"Fine," Fury said at last. "Then we're allies."
Maguire stood.
"Good. If that's all, we'll be going. If you need something, contact Garfield. I'm busy—don't expect me to pick up."
Inside, Fury actually felt relieved. "Good. I don't want to deal with you either—a complete villain."
Maguire turned to Natasha.
"Got time for a couple drinks tonight?"
Fury was speechless.
"This isn't a lounge, and she's not an escort—she's our top agent."
Then, to his shock, Natasha said calmly,
"As it happens, I'm free. Let's go have those drinks."
Fury could only think one thing:
"You people are unbelievable."
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