"The new Captain America?"
Gideon Malick almost choked on his breath.
"Ellis, in America, Captain America isn't just a man—he's a symbol. A spiritual totem. The energy behind that is not something you underestimate."
He leaned in, lowering his voice.
"Remember, the only reason the White House made such a big deal back then was because Steve Rogers was gone. Nobody wanted a living Captain America. The idea of the symbol was safer dead than alive."
Ellis sighed.
"I understand all of this... forget it. We'll discuss it later."
Gideon knew exactly why his old friend was thinking this way—Ellis wanted to create a new spiritual leader to secure re-election as decision-maker.
Especially now, when a certain young Black politician was becoming more active and had openly threatened to run for office.
"Don't worry," Gideon said coldly. "They'll never let a Black man take charge."
Ellis exhaled slowly.
"I hope you're right."
It was because of this plan—to shape a new Captain America—that Ellis had urgently brought in Murdock, putting him on security detail while secretly testing him at the same time.
And to his delight, he was very satisfied.
Native-born. White. Clean family background. Strong, handsome, a public servant, and obedient to management.
In Ellis's mind, no one was more qualified than Finnian Murdock. The man almost seemed more American than Captain America himself.
Then a thought hit Ellis like lightning.
"Gideon," he said suddenly, eyes gleaming, "we don't have to make him the new Captain America. We could just make him world-famous in his own right. A new superhero. My superhero. If it all happens during my administration, the voters will love me for it."
Malick was silent for a few seconds, then finally nodded.
"Fine. I'll make time to talk with him."
"Good," Ellis said. "I trust you with this."
From nearby, Finnian heard every word.
The perfected spider serum had enhanced all his senses, so eavesdropping at this range was effortless. And now he understood exactly why he'd been summoned for this "security" job.
There are no gifts without price tags. Every offer comes with strings. This was a game.
But it was a game Finnian was happy to play.
Ellis's two terms didn't overlap with the one Finnian planned to run in someday. In the meantime, Ellis was willing to spend untold resources to promote and publicize his "heroic deeds."
Sure, it would help Ellis win votes—but the fame Finnian gained was real. Tangible.
It was a win-win.
And when Ellis finally left office, Finnian would be the one running for power, with Ellis himself forced to endorse him.
Of course... assuming Ellis survived Thanos's snap.
Finally, Air Force One landed safely at London Airport.
After the grand welcome ceremony, Finnian, as part of Ellis's close security detail, was placed in the presidential suite—right next to the bespectacled girl who'd been shadowing the President all trip.
Finnian blinked in surprise.
"Wait… is the glasses girl Ellis's secretary?"
That would explain the way she acted. And the way everyone else seemed used to it.
Finnian smirked inwardly. No wonder. Old man's a repeat offender.
Still, he muttered to himself, Better to be the man in charge myself. Time to learn the right way to play this game.
The girl with glasses walked up.
"Finn, let's have dinner together."
"...Huh?" Finnian frowned.
What the hell? It's fine if you two flirt, but dragging me into dinner? Am I part of your act now? This is some grade-A bullshit.
She smiled lightly. "Don't worry. My dad usually isn't arrogant. Just pretend he doesn't exist."
Finnian froze.
Her dad…?
Oh.
Ohhh.
She wasn't Ellis's secretary. She was Ellis's daughter.
That made things… very different.
Finnian exhaled in relief. He'd been hanging around the Twisting Waist Guest too long—his pure heart had been polluted with dirty thoughts.
Dinner was lavish. French cuisine so rich it was almost comical to find in London—a food desert if there ever was one.
Ellis, casually piling food onto his daughter's plate, glanced at Finnian.
"Murdock, what's your position at S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Finnian instantly switched into soldier mode. His acting skills never failed him.
He put down his knife and fork, stood at attention, and answered crisply:
"Sir, I currently serve as Deputy Captain of the Rapid Response Special Forces."
"Sit down," Ellis waved. "This is family dinner. No need to be so stiff."
Once Finnian sat, Ellis mused, "Deputy Captain, huh? That's a waste of your talent."
"Yeah, yeah!" the girl with glasses chimed in. "Daddy, make Finn the Director!"
(Black boiled egg: …)
Ellis opened his mouth to speak but faltered at his daughter's boldness. For the first time, Finnian could see the President was annoyed by him.
And then—like a ghost in his ear—he almost swore he heard a whisper:
"Oi, Lao Deng, I parked the will-o'-the-wisp downstairs."
The suite went quiet, save for the faint squeak of Ellis's knife sawing at his steak.
Finally, Ellis broke the silence.
"The burden may be heavy. Do you have confidence?"
"Yes," Finnian replied without hesitation.
Not long ago, Coulson had briefed him: Captain Britain wasn't in London. Nothing to fear there. And Merlin wasn't about to waste his time interfering in England's petty affairs.
Ellis nodded, satisfied.
"After we return, someone will contact you. If anything comes up, the two of you can discuss it."
He was vague—probably for his daughter's sake.
"Yes, sir."
Dinner ended on an oddly harmonious note, though Finnian was left slightly overwhelmed by the girl's enthusiasm.
Soft rice or not… do I eat this or not?
The suite had six bedrooms. Ellis took the master.
Finnian and Ellis's daughter each got the secondary rooms flanking it.
Coulson and the rest of the agents were stuck in the three bedrooms on the far north side.
After dinner, Finnian activated his radar sense, carefully scanning the area for threats.
This mission was tied to future elections—worth his personal attention.
From the north wing, Coulson and the others stared at him with a toxic cocktail of envy and hatred.
They weren't blind. They could see perfectly well that Lily Ellis, the President's daughter, had a thing for Finnian Murdock.
"This bastard gets everything," one muttered.
"The President admires him. The boss's daughter adores him. What the hell?"
Another sighed bitterly.
"Does being handsome really mean you can do whatever you want?"