"Switch to manual. Activate navigation."
Fury tore away the deployed airbag and slammed his foot on the accelerator. The SUV roared down the street, several police cruisers in pursuit.
At an intersection, Fury suddenly braked hard.
The pursuing cruisers shot past him—
—and straight into a semi-truck crossing the junction.
Metal crumpled. Two or three cruisers were instantly totaled.
Fury seized the opening and turned sharply, speeding off again.
"Route me through side streets. Avoid all main roads."
Calculating alternate path.
At the far end of the street—
A lone figure stepped into view.
He held a grenade launcher.
One arm gleamed metallic silver.
He raised the weapon.
Boom.
The grenade struck Fury's SUV dead on.
The explosion flipped the vehicle violently, sending it tumbling and crashing onto its side in a heap of twisted steel.
Inside, Fury grabbed a compact device as the silver-armed assassin approached the wreck.
But when the man reached the vehicle—
Fury was gone.
Only a freshly cut opening in the pavement remained.
He had escaped underground.
---
That night, Steve left Peggy's house and returned to his apartment.
At the top of the stairs, he ran into his attractive neighbor.
"You left your music on," she said casually, gesturing toward his door before walking away with a basket of laundry.
Once she was gone, Steve frowned and pressed his ear against the door.
Music.
Orchestral.
He hadn't left anything playing.
Someone was inside.
He didn't enter through the door.
Instead, he circled the building and climbed in through the window.
The symphony filled the room.
He grabbed his shield from its usual hidden place—he always kept it positioned for quick access.
Moving silently toward the record player—
He saw Nick Fury sitting slouched on the couch, head tilted, looking worn and drained.
"I don't remember giving you a key," Steve said, stepping out of the shadows.
"Do I look like I need one?" Fury replied dryly.
Steve reached for the light switch.
Fury immediately turned it off and typed something into his phone.
Be careful. Someone may be listening.
Steve's expression tightened.
"Sorry to crash here," Fury said aloud. "Got kicked out by my wife."
Another message appeared on the screen.
S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised.
"Who else knows you have a wife?" Steve asked evenly.
"Just a friend."
On the phone:
Only you and me.
Fury winced slightly as he stood, one hand pressed against his ribs.
Then—
Gunshots shattered the window.
Fury jerked as bullets tore through him. He collapsed instantly.
Steve dragged him behind cover and scanned outside for the sniper.
Nothing visible.
Fury grabbed Steve weakly and pressed a flash drive into his hand—the one containing Project Insight's data.
"Don't… trust… anyone…"
His head slumped.
Unconscious.
The door suddenly burst open.
A figure entered cautiously, weapon raised.
"Captain Rogers!"
Steve stomped on his shield, flipping it into his hand, using it for cover.
"Captain, I'm Agent Thirteen. S.H.I.E.L.D. assigned me to protect you."
It was his neighbor.
Kate.
"Kate?!"
"I was sent by him," she said quickly, kneeling beside Fury.
"Code F is down. No response. We need emergency evac."
She spoke into her comm.
"Did you see the shooter?" a voice asked over the line.
"Tell them I'm pursuing," Steve said, already moving toward the window.
A shadow flickered across the opposite rooftop.
Steve crashed straight through the glass and charged.
He smashed through the neighboring building's window, barreling through hallways like a battering ram. Doors splintered. Walls cracked. Obstacles disintegrated under his momentum.
He burst through the far window and landed on a rooftop platform—
Face to face with the assassin.
Long hair.
Lower face covered.
One arm metal.
Steve hurled his shield.
It sliced through the air—
—and stopped.
The assassin caught it effortlessly with his metal arm.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent it flying back.
Steve caught it, but the force drove him backward several feet before he regained footing.
The strength—
It matched his own.
By the time he looked up—
The assassin was gone.
Steve rushed to the edge of the roof.
Nothing below.
No trace.
---
Hospital
A black sports car screeched to a halt.
Natasha sprinted inside.
Through the glass of the operating room, she saw Steve and Coulson already waiting. Coulson was on the phone; Steve stood silently, eyes fixed on the surgeons working beyond the glass.
Natasha joined him, breathing hard.
"Do you think he'll make it?"
"I don't know."
The sniper round had passed through Fury's body. If it had tumbled inside, the cavitation alone could have shredded his organs.
"Describe the shooter," Natasha said, forcing herself into professional focus.
Steve replayed the encounter.
"Fast. Strong. One metal arm."
Natasha's face hardened.
She knew exactly who that sounded like.
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