Matt's sunglasses did nothing to hide the black eyes peeking out from behind the lenses. The whole "private chat" story Hong Fei had spun wouldn't fool a toddler. Without a word, Matt slumped into a chair and scrawled his signature across the agreement, keeping his head down. Hong Fei strolled in like he owned the place, casually brushing imaginary dust off his palms.
From his corner seat, Coulson watched the whole awkward display unfold. His eyes darted to Hill in silent appeal. She pressed her lips together and gave the tiniest head shake. Sometimes silence was the least terrible option—anything they said now would only make this more excruciating.
Master Hong clearly disagreed. He shut the door with deliberate care before turning back to the room, his earlier smile gone. One glance at Hill had her scrambling for a seat.
Hong Fei paced before the long table, hands clasped behind his back like a professor about to deliver bad news. Everyone except Steve seemed to be holding their breath.
"If not for Steve," Hong Fei mused, "I wouldn't be caught dead here."
Matt's grip tightened around his cane. Then leave, he thought savagely.
"You've all got skills," Hong Fei continued. "But a team? Not even close. What's that saying... ah yes. Apart, you're stars. Together?"
He smirked.
"You're a steaming pile of shit."
Coulson choked back a laugh, ducking his head to hide behind his hand. Hill's eyes went wide as she fought to keep her face neutral.
"Something funny?" Hong Fei asked sweetly.
Coulson shook his head hard.
"Look at me."
Coulson obeyed.
"See that wall?"
Hong Fei pointed.
"Go stand there."
Coulson shuffled over.
"Face it."
He turned.
"Now laugh. If you stop before I say so..."
Hong Fei's grin turned feral.
"I'll toss you out the window."
Thirty floors up. Coulson swallowed hard before unleashing a shaky chuckle at the blank wall.
Hong Fei turned back to the others.
"Steve trusts me. But let's be clear—team building isn't my specialty."
Steve rubbed his temples as the others exchanged glances.
"Still, my people have a saying: 'Since you're here, settle in.' For the next three months, we'll be living in each other's pockets. During which..."
His voice hardened.
"I better not see cliques. Or distrust. Or anyone forgetting who's in charge."
He studied their faces.
"We've met before. I made sure you'd remember. Fear, respect, blind obedience—I don't care why you listen. Just remember this."
He held up one finger.
"Obey. Understood?"
Silence.
Steve shot to his feet.
"Understood!"
Hong Fei's gaze swept the room.
"Deaf now?"
Chairs screeched as the others scrambled up.
"UNDERSTOOD!"
Hong Fei nodded at Hill, still standing rigidly.
"Director, you may sit."
Her jaw clenched. Could've mentioned that earlier!
"Any active missions?" Hong Fei asked.
"None currently," Hill said.
"So what fills your days?"
"Training."
"Details."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. tailors programs to individual combat styles."
"Sparring?"
Hill's delicate brows knit together.
"No."
"How dull."
Hong Fei clapped his hands.
"Starting tomorrow, daily sparring rotations."
"But—"
"Speak up."
"So what does everyone usually do?"
"Training."
"Specifically?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D. provides different training programs and venues based on their respective combat styles."
"Is there any sparring?"
Hill's willow-like brows furrowed.
"No."
"How boring. Starting tomorrow, alternate sparring."
"This..."
"Speak your mind."
After a moment's thought, Hill crossed her arms.
"Their conditions aren't suitable for sparring with each other."
Hong Fei's lips quirked.
"You mean they're mismatched. Because if Banner gets careless, we'll have the Hulk turning someone into paste? Or Steve might accidentally decapitate a poor bastard with that frisbee of his?"
He'd swear Hill almost laughed. Almost. The woman had ironclad control, letting only the briefest flicker of amusement show before her professional mask slid back into place.
"That's not what I meant. But yes, they're unsuitable sparring partners."
"You're underestimating them."
Hill's brow furrowed.
"I'm not."
Hong Fei turned on his heel.
"Then they'll train. Train like their lives depend on it—because they do. You all signed the papers. From today, you've got money and no excuses. That signature made your worth clear—you're Avengers now."
He paced before them like a drill sergeant.
"Excel, and your future rewards—dreams, wealth—will blow your minds. But if I find deadweight or parasites here?"
His smile turned razor-sharp.
"Even if I quit the team, I'll personally make you vomit up every cent you've earned. Clean. Whole."
The group kept their heads down, silent. Hong Fei scoffed.
"Look at you—bunch of ostriches. You're the Avengers. The ones who repelled an alien invasion, not some green recruits. Heads up!"
They obeyed instantly.
"From now on, as long as I'm here, I won't tolerate cowardice. Whether it's an unbeatable enemy or the damn President standing before you—look them in the eye. Better yet, look down on them. But never look up."
His voice dropped.
"Fail that, and you're out. I'm an Avenger too now. We don't do shame."
The door clicked open. Rumlow's familiar face appeared.
"Everyone's here? Perfect. Mr. Pierce wants—"
Hong Fei's glare cut him off.
"Speak."
Rumlow's eyelid twitched.
"...Mr. Pierce requests the Avengers' presence at a meeting."
"A meeting?"
Hong Fei's eyes narrowed.
"He's got that much free time?"
"He's summoning the Avengers—"
"I'm one."
Rumlow shot Hill a helpless look. She nodded.
"He is. For three months."
Recognition flashed—Rumlow had seen Yelena here earlier. Hong Fei pressed, "What's this about?"
"A press conference invitation."
"Pass."
Rumlow didn't argue.
"Understood."
When no objections came, he ducked out fast.
Watching him leave, Hong Fei had a sudden thought. His gaze flicked to Steve, then out the window.
"Still early. Do what you want. Tonight at eight—my manor. I've arranged... entertainment."
He left before anyone could react.
The room collectively exhaled.
Banner leaned toward Steve.
"He's terrifying."
Steve whispered back, "It's an act. He's actually really approachable—especially when he smiles."
Banner scratched his head doubtfully.
"I'm serious!" Steve insisted.
Rhodes walked to the side and started making a phone call, probably reporting the situation to his good buddy Tony Stark. Barton moved toward Hill, and their hushed conversation began. Matt still seemed to be sulking with Luke Cage. Left alone, Sam quietly joined Steve.
The meeting room emptied out, leaving only faint echoes of laughter—and what might have been a few stifled sobs. Hill fell into step beside Steve.
"You really think he can improve the Avengers?"
"I don't know about improve," Steve admitted. "But he'll definitely make them act like a team."
Hill frowned.
"I get what you're going for—hell, I'm desperate enough to try anything. But after that performance? He came off more like a..."
She trailed off, searching for the right word.
"Dictator?"
Steve supplied.
"That's the one."
Not exactly a flattering term, especially in today's political climate. Steve lowered his voice.
"I know. Truth is, he's always been like that. Even back in the day, I could see it."
Hill shot him a startled look.
Steve just grinned.
"But he's different now. Over there, he never gathered everyone for lectures. Didn't need to hammer points home. Half the time, his team just knew what to do from a single glance."
"And today?"
Steve glanced at the retreating backs of the other Avengers.
"Compared to his people? We're lacking. Look at them—scattering without a word. Bet they don't hang out off-duty either."
"We tried parties. Used to have them all the time."
"Yeah, and look how that turned out. Polite on the surface, but underneath?" Hill sighed. These were Avengers, not raw recruits. Hong Fei wasn't wrong—each one was uniquely skilled, stubborn as hell. Standard drills wouldn't stick. Worse, they might backfire.
"They need pressure," Steve said. "Right now, they need someone strong enough to forge them together. Wait too long, and it'll be impossible."
"I get it. But what if things go sideways?"
"They will."
"And?"
Steve smirked.
"Relax. Even if they gang up, they're no match for Hong."
Hill pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I know exactly what the Dragon King's capable of. My concern isn't them winning—it's him beating one of them to death."
Steve's smile turned sharp.
"That's my next priority."
Finally, some reassurance. Hill was smart; she'd already pieced together why Steve brought Hong Fei in. Desperate times, desperate measures—which was why she'd played along earlier. But Fury's thigh wounds were a vivid reminder: if Hong Fei would shoot the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., what wouldn't he do to an Avenger?
With Steve as a buffer, she breathed easier. Still, the moment they parted, Hill had logistics prep the med bay for critical injuries. Acting Director meant endless worries.
Eight p.m. sharp.
Hong Fei strolled out licking an ice cream cone—and froze. A neat line of bodies stood at attention outside his door. Steve led the pack, everyone decked in full combat gear, spines straight, chins up.
Well. Almost everyone.
At the end of the row, Matt Murdock stood stiffly in a tailored suit, polished shoes gleaming, hair meticulously combed. The picture of a dignified lawyer—if not for the sheer absurdity of the context.
Hong Fei sauntered over, still working on his ice cream. With theatrical care, he adjusted Matt's tie, then patted his chest.
"What a dashing young man. Tell me—planning to crash a gala? Or is this for a hot date?"
Matt's face turned crimson, and the rest of the group struggled to stifle their laughter. They couldn't forget the sight of Coulson lying unconscious on the ground, his face frozen in that bizarre grin. The image was burned into their minds, impossible to shake.
"Get in the car," someone ordered. "Looking at your flashy outfits, I almost thought I'd stumbled into a comic convention."
They piled into the vehicles without hesitation, driving until they reached the base of a barren mountain. Stepping out, they exchanged confused glances, unsure what to make of their destination.
Under Hong Fei's intense stare, Matt reluctantly stepped forward. He squared his shoulders like a man marching to his doom, tilted his head back, and bellowed at the empty forest with all the bravado he could muster:
"The Avengers are at work, all bystanders get lost!"