"Any questions?" Maria Hill asked, clearly annoyed as she stood at the head of the S.H.I.E.L.D. conference room. Message after message kept coming in, but none were useful.
Daniel sat across from her, arms crossed, wearing a thoughtful expression. While he looked concerned, deep down, he already understood what was going on.
Hill and her team had found nothing. They'd gone over every surveillance feed again and again, but Sitwell still looked squeaky clean. His actions, especially in the underground warehouse, all seemed efficient and above board.
Sitwell came across as mild-mannered, the kind of guy you'd never expect to cause trouble. Yet, when Hydra's Insight Plan was exposed, he was the one who cracked and told Rogers everything.
That kind of personality cuts both ways.
He was cautious. Methodical. Smart enough to cover his tracks so well that even top S.H.I.E.L.D. agents couldn't find a hint of wrongdoing—not even Hill, one of their best.
After all, surveillance can be tampered with. And even though Hill's team included some of the top hackers on the planet, they were still no match for artificial intelligence.
Hydra may not have had something as advanced as JARVIS, but they had Dr. Arnim Zola.
Back during World War II, Zola was captured by Captain America. One had to give the Allies credit—they saw how important Zola was to the Red Skull. His surrender helped bring Hydra down back then, but it also allowed him to survive—and eventually rebuild Hydra from within S.H.I.E.L.D.
Technically, Zola had died decades ago. Cancer got him. But a man like Zola wasn't about to go down that easily.
Long before uploading one's brain into a computer was a common idea, he figured out how to do it. And somehow, despite the primitive tech back then, he pulled it off. He survived digitally, hiding in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secret bases.
Because of Zola, Hill's team had no real chance of spotting what Sitwell was hiding. It wasn't just a question of skill—it was that they didn't even know Zola existed. And without knowing the threat, they didn't realize their feeds had been tampered with.
Zola only needed to alter a few key systems—just enough to keep Hydra's secrets safe. With so many S.H.I.E.L.D. agents searching aimlessly, it was like hiding a needle in a haystack—except Zola had already replaced the needle with straw.
Watching Hill study surveillance footage frame by frame on her tablet, Daniel said nothing. He wasn't going to help her—not yet.
If he was right, Zola was probably watching Hill through the very systems she was using.
Worse, Zola might be watching him too.
If Daniel pointed something out, if he made a move that showed he knew what was going on, Zola would notice. He'd become a target.
And Daniel wasn't ready for that—not yet. Especially not with Rogers hanging around. The man had a habit of taking everything personally, and the last thing Daniel needed was Cap charging into something half-cocked.
As the day dragged into night, Hill still had nothing solid to show for all her digging.
Daniel smirked to himself.
Zola was playing them.
The more empty-handed Hill ended up, the more determined she became to keep digging—and the more distracted she'd be from Daniel. That worked perfectly for him.
Between the fallout from the Chitauri invasion and all the political chaos it kicked off, the last thing Daniel needed was extra attention. He had other plans, and now he had the time to pursue them.
Some connections needed to be cut.
No wonder Alexander Pierce didn't want Hill overseeing the warehouse cleanup. Even while she sat in this room, over a dozen calls had come in for her—from the White House, the Pentagon, even Capitol Hill. Someone powerful clearly had her back.
Daniel had looked into Hill's background before. Officially, she lost her mother young and had a distant relationship with her father. That was supposed to explain her cold, focused personality.
But someone was helping her behind the scenes.
Someone with real reach in Washington.
Plenty of people probably knew the truth. But no one was talking. That silence said a lot.
By the time night fully fell over S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Hill had finally had enough. She raised her hand, and the entire room of agents stopped what they were doing.
"We're done for today," she said quietly. "Everyone, go rest. We're no longer pursuing this lead."
In most places, people would've asked questions. Not here. These were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents—disciplined, trained, and professional. The moment Hill gave the order, they packed up and left without a word.
Daniel clapped his hands lightly. "Wow. Impressive. Very military."
Hill didn't even turn around and asked, "Why are you still here?"
Daniel shurgged and answered, "Waiting to go over tomorrow's negotiations with you. Thor's heading back to Asgard soon. Time's ticking."
Hill glanced over, catching the smug look in his eyes and her expression darkened.
She'd spent the whole day chasing ghosts and had almost forgotten about the meeting with Asgard.
"There's nothing to prep," she said coldly, grabbing her coat. "We'll follow protocol. You can brief me on the way. Come on—I'll drive you."
Earlier that day, they'd agreed on most of the plan already.
Earth would offer Asgard various technologies, entertainment media, and other cultural goods—things that were common here, but rare or novel to the Asgardians.
In return, Earth hoped to secure an ongoing exchange. Even antiques and junk might be valuable to Asgard. If they were lucky, those offerings could help offset the energy cost of using the Bifrost.
That would open up regular data exchanges. Asgard could send packets of cosmic information back to Earth.
Technically, long-distance data transmission across the galaxy was possible—some civilizations even had interstellar broadcasts—but Asgard didn't. Neither did Earth.
The real goal was simple: Earth wanted intel. Information about the wider galaxy, advanced tech, new threats.
The Chitauri had been pushed back this time, sure—but who knew what would come next?
Later that night, after the call with Asgard was finished, Hill glanced at Daniel across the table. He was casually finishing a burger.
"How confident are you this'll work?" she asked, clearly skeptical.
Daniel waved the waiter over for more coffee, then replied, "Ninety percent. This whole effort is just to give Odin a dignified excuse. Earth needs Asgard. And Asgard needs Earth."
Hill raised an eyebrow. "What could they possibly need from us?"
"They need a piece on the board," Daniel said. "Look—most people in the galaxy know Earth is under Asgard's protection. That's why we've avoided major alien invasions for so long. But things have changed."
Hill's eyes widened. "You're saying the Chitauri came because of Asgard?"
Daniel shrugged. "Not exactly. But Earth is one of the Nine Realms. If someone's targeting Asgard, Earth's going to get caught in the crossfire."
Hill looked like she wanted to ask more but stayed quiet.
Daniel chuckled to himself.
She was thinking about Captain Marvel. About why Asgard didn't step in during the Kree conflict. She wasn't ready to ask—but she wanted to.
Too bad for her, everyone who needed to know the truth already did.
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