"The bullets?" Natasha narrowed her eyes.
Coulson had just ended a call and stepped over.
"Forensics is back. Three rounds recovered. No rifling marks we can trace. No ballistic signature. Nothing."
He exhaled. Whoever fired them had erased every possible trail.
Hill pushed through the doors, having rushed straight from the airport.
"They're Soviet-made," she said. "Old stock."
Inside the operating room, alarms suddenly blared.
Fury's heart rate spiked violently—then his blood pressure and oxygen levels plummeted.
"Defibrillator—now!"
"Adrenaline, one milligram!"
The crash team moved fast. A syringe plunged into Fury's chest. The paddles followed.
Five minutes later, the room fell still.
The medical staff stepped back.
It was over.
On the other side of the glass, Steve, Natasha, Coulson, and Hill stood silently.
No one spoke.
The anger in the room was suffocating.
Steve turned away and took out the flash drive Fury had given him, staring at it in thought.
Coulson and Hill exchanged a subtle glance—clearly Fury had given them private instructions before all this. After a brief nod to Steve and Natasha, they left quickly, blending into the hospital traffic.
"Why did Fury go to your apartment?" Natasha asked suddenly.
"I don't know," Steve replied after a pause.
Rumlow approached.
"Captain. You're needed at headquarters."
"I'll be there."
"Preferably now."
Steve's jaw tightened. "I said I'll be there."
Rumlow held his gaze for a second, then turned and walked away. His strike team waited at the end of the corridor.
Natasha watched him with a faint smirk.
"You're terrible at lying. Don't forget what I do for a living."
She turned to leave.
"Where are you going?" Steve grabbed her arm.
"To find backup."
She pulled free and left the hospital.
Steve lingered a moment—then his eyes drifted toward a vending machine in the hallway.
An idea formed.
---
New York
Karl had no idea what had happened to Fury.
Even if he did, he might have laughed. He'd warned Fury repeatedly that S.H.I.E.L.D. was leaking from the inside. Fury hadn't taken it seriously.
Karl lounged in the office, still half-asleep, watching Skye code at full speed while sipping tea.
He disliked coffee, so the entire office had gradually switched to tea. Wanda, especially, had grown used to it at Kamar-Taj.
Karl leaned closer to the screen, about to ask what a particular block of code was supposed to do when the bell above the office door jingled.
Three men in black suits walked in.
Karl didn't even need to look closely.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
His expression darkened.
"I distinctly remember telling that one-eyed bastard that no S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were to appear in front of me without permission. You've got some nerve. Think you're immortal?"
A crushing wave of pressure descended instantly.
The air thickened.
The three agents felt as if a mountain had dropped onto their shoulders.
Thud.
All three collapsed to their knees, struggling to breathe.
"O-our director… wants… to see you…"
One barely managed to gasp before slumping to the floor, drenched in sweat.
Karl paused.
These weren't Fury's people.
If Fury wanted him, he would've called personally—or sent Natasha or Coulson.
Not random operatives.
"Alexander Pierce sent you, didn't he?" Karl's voice turned cold. "Hydra?"
The three agents stiffened in shock.
Then—
Something like hope flickered in their eyes.
He knew Hydra.
Maybe he was one of them.
They never got the chance to speak.
Mogu drifted lazily through the air and tapped each of them on the head with his staff.
Their eyes burst bloodshot.
Blood streamed from ears, nose, mouth.
They collapsed—dead within seconds.
Mogu floated back into Skye's arms as if nothing had happened.
Skye translated casually, "Mogu says they had hostile intent before they even walked in. He wanted to see what they were planning. Turns out it wasn't interesting."
Karl pulled out his phone to call Fury. He was ready to lecture him about losing control of his own agency.
The phone rang first.
Natasha.
Karl answered immediately.
"Perfect timing. Three idiots from S.H.I.E.L.D. just barged in. I dealt with them. Tell the black egg to send someone to clean up."
Silence on the other end.
Then—
"Karl… Nick Fury is dead."
Karl froze.
He glanced at the caller ID to confirm.
"Fury's dead?" he said slowly. "Since when?"
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