Three days later, inside the office of Glory Publishing House, Oscar was sorting through documents when familiar footsteps echoed outside. A moment later, Phil Coulson pushed the door open and walked in.
"Phil? You again?" Oscar looked up, surprised. "Didn't you say you were taking a break?"
"I wanted to ask how Voss's sequel is coming along," Coulson said as he sat down, his eyes scanning the piles of paperwork. "Last time I only read the beginning, and it was incredible. I'm itching to see the rest."
Oscar's eyes brightened. "Then you came at the perfect time! Voss sent me the complete manuscript just yesterday. I've already printed it." He pulled a thick stack of papers from his drawer.
"All four volumes, start to finish."
Coulson raised his brows and took the manuscript, flipping through the pages. "He finished this fast?"
"That kid's efficiency is insane. Three days for a whole series." Oscar shook his head in disbelief.
"I've worked with writers for years, and I've rarely seen someone so prolific without sacrificing quality. Honestly, I struck gold with this one."
Coulson nodded, but his attention was already buried in the manuscript. At first, he skimmed casually—after all, it was just fiction.
But the deeper he read, the tighter his expression became.
This guy knows Howard Stark too well, Coulson thought, his stomach tightening.
The descriptions of Howard's lab—the equipment layout, the tools, even minor details—were disturbingly accurate, as if the author had been there in person. His grasp of Howard's younger, reckless playboy years was just as uncanny, like he'd grown up beside him.
Worse, the technical details scattered through the chapters matched S.H.I.E.L.D.'s classified archives. Manufacturing processes for the vibranium shield. Side effects of the super-soldier serum. Things most agents would never even hear about.
Then came the third volume—the Steve and Peggy romance arc. Coulson's eyes widened.
The scenes captured their private moments, even conversations Coulson knew only from restricted reports. They were written with such precision, it felt like the author had been eavesdropping back in the 1940s.
This isn't coincidence, Coulson thought, his brow furrowing.
As a senior agent, his knowledge of this history was deeper than almost anyone's. Yet even he didn't know some of the details on the page. There was no way an "ordinary novelist" could write this.
But what truly chilled him was the ending.
When Coulson read the final monologue of the Hydra official, his hands trembled.
[The most dangerous place is always the safest. We've already infiltrated the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.]
[Hahaha! Rogers and his friends will never realize their greatest enemy is right in front of them. Hydra is eternal! Cut off one head, two more shall grow. Hail Hydra!!!]
Cold sweat broke out across Coulson's back.
"The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division…" he whispered.
How the hell did this author know the full name of S.H.I.E.L.D.? That name had never been revealed to the public. It was the agency's old identity, long before its rebranding.
Does this mean Hydra really infiltrated us?
And then there was the plane crash. Could Voss be implying that Captain America's crash site—and the location of the Tesseract—was exactly where he described in the novel?
S.H.I.E.L.D. had been searching for both Steve Rogers and the Cube for decades without success. Could they really be hidden at the coordinates written in this book?
"Phil, what's wrong? You look pale," Oscar asked, noticing Coulson's shaken expression.
Coulson forced himself to breathe and relax, masking the panic in his chest. "It's nothing. The story's just… too good. Got me a little worked up."
"Right?" Oscar grinned. "Especially that ending twist! Hydra infiltrating government agencies? Genius! Readers will go nuts."
If only it were just fiction, Coulson thought bitterly.
"Oscar, mind if I take this home?" he asked carefully. "I want to really savor it."
"Of course!" Oscar nodded without hesitation. "I've still got the digital copy here. Just… keep it under wraps. It's not officially published yet."
"Don't worry. I won't leak it." Coulson stood abruptly, clutching the manuscript. "I'll be in touch."
"Leaving already? Won't you stay a bit?"
"I've got something urgent to handle." Coulson was already at the door. "We'll talk later."
As he left, Oscar shook his head. "That guy… gets way too into a novel."
But Coulson wasn't thinking about novels. Outside, he flagged down a taxi.
"To the airport. Fast."
The driver glanced at him in the mirror. "Catching a flight?"
"Yes. A very urgent one," Coulson said, checking his watch. New York to Washington was at least an hour. He had to get this to Fury, now.
On the plane, Coulson reread the manuscript carefully, each page deepening his unease.
Who is this Voss? How could he know so much classified information?
Could he be a Hydra spy? But if so, why expose all this in a book? Wouldn't that risk blowing his cover?
Or had he stumbled onto intelligence by accident? But no—this was Level 10 clearance material. Only a handful of people inside S.H.I.E.L.D. had access.
Every possibility gnawed at Coulson. None made him feel any safer.
By the time the plane landed in Washington, he had only one conclusion: whatever the truth, Fury needed to see this immediately.
That afternoon, at the Triskelion—Nick Fury's office.
"Director, regarding the energy fluctuations in Eastern Europe, we've already dispatched a team," an agent reported.
"Any satellite confirmations?" Fury asked, his single eye fixed on the papers.
"Not yet, sir, but we'll continue—"
Bang!
The door burst open. Coulson rushed in, pale and tense.
"Coulson?" Fury frowned. "Weren't you on vacation?"
Coulson froze when he saw three other agents in the office, staring at him.
"Uh… Director, I…" He stumbled over his words.
Fury didn't miss a beat. The look on Coulson's face told him something was wrong.
"You three, out. We'll finish later." Fury waved the agents away.
"Yes, Director." They packed their files and left.
Now only Fury and Coulson remained.
"Talk," Fury said flatly. "What's got you barging into my office like this?"
Coulson took a steadying breath, stepped forward, and placed the manuscript on Fury's desk.
"Director… you need to read this."
Fury arched a brow. "What am I looking at?"
"A manuscript. A novel manuscript," Coulson said grimly. "But the content… might involve S.H.I.E.L.D.'s deepest secrets."
"A novel?" Fury leaned back, skeptical. "Coulson, did you burn out your brain on vacation? Since when does fiction hold classified intel?"
"You'll understand when you read it." Coulson's tone was grave.
"Especially the part about Captain Rogers's crash… and the last section. The Hydra infiltration."
At those words, Fury's eye sharpened instantly. He reached for the manuscript and began to flip through its pages.