Yes.
Nick Fury.
After all, he'd faked his death—he wasn't truly dead.
Originally, Fury planned to use the fake death to dodge HYDRA's strike, slip past their eyes, then quietly contact Captain America and stage a grand "return of the king."
HYDRA had indeed grown during his tenure.
And Alexander Pierce—the man who recommended and guaranteed him for the Director's chair—had now been exposed as a HYDRA leader.
But he had, at least, faked his death to break free, then looked for a chance to team up with the Captain and end HYDRA's plot.
In short:
If it's not merit, it's at least effort.
Most importantly:
To cover one mess, the best way is to create an even bigger mess.
So—
Fury had already mapped it out: simply returning wouldn't be enough; he'd also need a bigger controversy to break at the same time—two-pronged pressure to make the Council focus on the greater storm and stop hounding him for a while.
He even had the "bigger mess" candidate ready.
Nothing would give the Council a worse headache than S.H.I.E.L.D. and the entire HYDRA crisis being laid bare.
But he couldn't be the one to pull that trigger.
As for who should—Fury had a name.
Natasha.
Raised by the Red Room, now a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent—there was no better choice.
Except…
Before he could even reach Captain America, bad news came from afar.
HYDRA was already done.
Damn!
Fury was left high and dry.
Even so, once he recovered his wits, he called Maria Hill right away.
Again:
He was only "dead" on paper—not in fact.
Hill didn't seem surprised by the call, nor particularly concerned. She simply reported it to the Council.
After several days of closed-door sessions, the Council's first public action was to announce her promotion: Maria Hill, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
As for Nick Fury—
The Council didn't even bring him up.
Sometimes silence is a stance.
Just as Victoria Hand was about to speak—right then, the phone on Hill's desk rang.
Hill walked over and hit the button. "Hill."
"Commander—no, Director, the Pentagon sent people. They say they're here to take someone into custody."
"Understood. Send them up."
"Yes, ma'am."
Hill hung up, looked over at Victoria Hand, and smiled faintly.
"See? They're here."
"Mm."
Commander Hand nodded as it clicked. "Looks like the rumors were true. The first time Fury's authority was frozen and then restored, the military helped him. Seems he and the brass are on good terms."
Hill's tone was even. "Not our concern."
"Agreed. Better that he goes."
Hand shook her head. "I've been auditing accounts these days. Under Alexander Pierce, the books are relatively clear. But during Fury's tenure…"
She let the sentence die.
Hill chuckled. "We're S.H.I.E.L.D. of the Security Council. The Council has decided; we abide. The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury, fell to HYDRA's treachery and, regrettably, is deceased."
As for the Nick Fury still sitting in the former Director's office?
Let's put it this way:
He can be called Nick Fury. He can even have one eye. But he's no longer S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Nick Fury. He's a U.S. federal man named Nick Fury.
This Nick Fury now has nothing to do with S.H.I.E.L.D.
A short while later,
A military vehicle rolled into the Triskelion. Less than ten minutes after parking, it started up again and drove out.
Hill and Commander Hand stood at the top-floor conference room window, watching it go.
Hand lowered her gaze. "I heard Fury tried more than once to put Hawk under 'management,' but you blocked him."
Hill looked back to Hand, understanding her angle. "Tell Sharon this: Nick Fury is no longer ours."
Hand smiled, pulling out her phone. "I'll call her now."
"…What?"
"The Pentagon just took Nick Fury?"
Back on Palm Street, Hawk—cast on, arm in a sling, shorts on, relaxed to the extreme—arched a brow at Sharon's report. "Fury and the Pentagon are tight?"
Beside him, Gwen was curious. "Who exactly is Nick Fury?"
God as witness—
She really hadn't known who he was. At first, she didn't care. Later, after Sharon came for help, she learned about Commander Hand and Commander Hill.
As for Nick Fury…
Maybe she'd heard the name once.
But—
"Wasn't he supposed to be dead already?"
"Fake death," Sharon said with a shrug, glancing at Gwen. "He claims he faked it to move in the shadows and try to bust HYDRA's plot."
Gwen lifted a brow at Sharon's tone. "You don't buy it?"
"He was recommended and guaranteed by Alexander Pierce to become Director."
"Fair."
Gwen nodded on reflex, then to Sharon: "If I were you, I wouldn't buy it either."
Lounging against the sofa, Hawk listened to the back-and-forth and chuckled. "Fury really isn't HYDRA."
Both Sharon and Gwen turned toward him.
Hawk smiled. "You can call him dumb, or call him slow, but he wasn't HYDRA."
He didn't think much of Fury. He'd even assumed he might end up killing the man someday.
Given Fury's mentality, if he learned Hawk existed, he'd surely try to put a collar on him.
But…
None of that ever happened.
Hawk didn't quite get why, but he wasn't a pit bull; he was more of a honey badger. If Fury didn't mess with him, he wouldn't go looking for trouble—or smear Fury for no reason.
Even so, he understood why Sharon had brought this up today.
Plainly,
He'd been wrong before: it wasn't that Fury had no designs on him—he did. They'd just been pressed down by Maria Hill, or rather, by the Security Council.
Now that Fury had left S.H.I.E.L.D., Sharon's meaning was obvious.
From here on out, anything Fury does has nothing to do with S.H.I.E.L.D.
Fury can no longer speak for S.H.I.E.L.D.
Hawk's thoughts turned; he smiled and let it drop. "So the Council's final decision was to downsize S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Sharon shook her head. "The downsizing was Director Hill's proposal."
Hawk's brows rose.
A second later, he got it. "Smart move."
Cut yourself first—to give the Council an answer.
And—
New ruler, new court.
With Hill now in charge, this HYDRA chaos was the perfect chance to reconsolidate S.H.I.E.L.D.—shed weight to avoid abolition and ensure the rebuilt organization would be staffed with people she trusts.
As expected.
Maria Hill was far sharper—in mind and method—than the "black-egg" Director who, after taking office, lined his pockets and built secret bases.
So thought Hawk.
Gwen, meanwhile, turned to Sharon with concern. "If New York S.H.I.E.L.D. is being shut down, then you…"
Sharon glanced at Hawk first, then smiled at Gwen. "Thanks to you two, I got promoted—S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Lead Agent, New York Liaison."
Gwen's concern bloomed into delight. "Really? That's great—congratulations!"
Sharon grinned. She'd already been preparing to find a new home, resumes ready for the CIA and FBI.
And then—
The promotion came out of nowhere, yet also felt inevitable.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was the Council's only bridge to Hawk.
And she was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s only bridge to Hawk.
So!
Sharon put on her most pitiful look toward Hawk. "I promise S.H.I.E.L.D. has no designs on you. Please—help me out. If you're going anywhere or doing anything, tell me ahead of time."
Hawk caught Gwen's quiet smile from the corner of his eye, then looked at Sharon's pleading hands, and twitched the arm still in a cast and sling. "Look at me. Where exactly do you think I'm going?"
Sharon chuckled sheepishly.
Gwen liked Sharon—a lot. They'd fought side by side, after all. Picking up the cue, she told Hawk, "Sharon's our friend, and she worked hard for that promotion. We should help where we can."
Then to Sharon: "Don't worry. You've got me. If anything comes up, I'll be the first to reach out. And remember the saying—'injuries to muscle and bone take a hundred days.' It's only been ten; Hawk needs at least three more months of rest."
Hawk froze and looked at Gwen.
"Wait—three months?"
"School starts again in a few days. Being hurt doesn't affect your classes. Besides, didn't you 'want' to be hurt?"
"Uh…"
He blinked at that, thought of ten days of imperial-level pampering, then turned to Sharon and nodded solemnly.
"Yes. I'm injured. I'll need the entire semester to recuperate."
"…"
(End of Chapter)
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