The night was dark, and the cold wind whipped scraps of paper through the street corners. Diluc's figure had long since vanished into the darkness.
Coulson stood there, took a deep breath, and quickly regained his composure. He surveyed the scene—the fallen agents, the shattered drones, the scattered weapon parts—his brow furrowed slightly.
"Clean up the scene immediately," he ordered in a deep, authoritative voice. "Erase all traces of the battle, recover the equipment wreckage, and ensure no clues are left behind."
At his command, the agents sprang into action. Some tended to the wounded, others gathered weapon fragments, and a few used portable devices to scan the area, ensuring no traceable electronic signals remained.
Coulson approached the three agents who had briefly engaged Diluc—one had a dislocated wrist, and the other two had only just regained consciousness, rubbing their temples, their faces pale.
"Was the tracker installed successfully?" Coulson asked.
The three exchanged glances. One nodded. "It was carried out according to plan, sir. During our engagement, a micro-tracker was attached to the inside of his windbreaker. Theoretically, it's undetectable."
Coulson gave a slight nod, his eyes stern. "Very good. Thank you for your hard work."
He then turned to the two agents standing by the drone control terminal, his gaze sharp. "Disarm them both."
The agents' expressions shifted. One instinctively raised his hands in defense. "Sir, we just—"
"You opened fire without authorization and nearly provoked the target!" Coulson cut in, his voice icy. "Is this your first day as an agent? Do I need to remind you of the importance of operational discipline?"
The two men fell silent. After a moment, they offered no further protest and obediently surrendered their sidearms and communication gear.
Coulson gestured to two security personnel. "Take them back and place them in solitary confinement pending investigation."
No one objected. S.H.I.E.L.D. enforced strict discipline—even its most elite agents answered to protocol.
As the drone operators were led away, they offered no resistance, though their faces were grim and their eyes darted nervously.
Ten minutes later, the scene was cleared, and five black SUVs pulled away, disappearing into the New York night.
Coulson sat in the back seat of the lead vehicle, his fingertips gliding swiftly across a tablet as he pulled up the tracking signal just received from Diluc.
The map on the screen showed Diluc's movement trajectory updating in real time.
Satisfied the signal was stable, Coulson dialed Nick Fury's encrypted channel.
"Sir, the operation is complete. The target has gone dark, but we've successfully implanted the tracking device."
On the other end, Nick Fury narrowed his single eye. "You had a confrontation?"
Coulson detected the edge of disapproval in Fury's voice and responded quickly. "A minor incident—strictly defensive. Three agents sustained light injuries, twelve drones were destroyed, and the two drone operators fired without authorization. They've been detained."
Fury was silent for a beat, weighing the report. Then, lightly: "As long as the situation's under control… Where is he?"
Coulson transmitted the tracking data in real time. "The signal's stable. He's on the move—but his trajectory is… unusual."
Nick Fury's terminal received the data, and on the tracking route map displayed by the holographic projection, Diluc's movement path showed a distinct pattern—back and forth, turning with deliberate regularity.
After a moment, the trajectory became clear:
"S," "B."
The two red letters, neatly imprinted on the map as if handwritten, seemed like a silent mockery.
Nick Fury stared at the holographic projection, his mouth twitching slightly. "He's figured it out," he said helplessly.
Coulson looked at the letters "SB" and couldn't suppress a bitter smile. "I'm sorry, sir. This is my fault."
Nick Fury rubbed his temples, feeling a rare headache—but he didn't blame Coulson. "You all should come back first. Be more cautious when dealing with Night Owl in the future. He showed restraint this time, but he might not next time."
Coulson hesitated. Then, choosing his words carefully, he said, "Sir, there's something else I need to report.
"The two drone operators who opened fire without authorization—they weren't rookies. They were veteran agents with over eight years of service. They shouldn't have made a mistake like that."
"…What are you getting at?"
"I suspect… they might have been influenced by something. Or… someone gave them additional orders."
Nick Fury didn't respond immediately. He kept his eyes fixed on the "S" and "B" glowing on the screen, his expression unreadable.
A brief silence hung over the comms channel.
Coulson waited patiently. He knew Fury was weighing the consequences. An internal investigation within S.H.I.E.L.D. was no small matter—once initiated, it could trigger a chain reaction.
Especially now. Fury had only just taken command and hadn't yet consolidated his authority. It would be all too easy for rivals to accuse him of launching a purge—of trying to become the next J. Edgar Hoover.
That would leave them dangerously exposed.
Finally, Fury spoke, his voice low and hoarse: "Bring them in. Quietly. Don't tip off the enemy."
"Sir, if there really is a traitor—"
Fury cut him off. "I know how serious this is. But we have higher priorities right now."
His gaze drifted back to the map. Diluc's signal was still moving—almost as if to say:
"I've seen through your little tricks a long time ago."
This time, Fury's voice was ice-cold. "We'll hold off until we can get our house in order. First, investigate those two agents' backgrounds—but keep it under wraps."
Coulson nodded. "Understood. I'll assign someone I trust to monitor them twenty-four seven."
After addressing the suspicious agents, Coulson shifted the topic back to Diluc. "Sir, regarding Night Owl… should we keep personnel on his tail?"
Fury replied calmly, "No. If he knows we're watching, tailing him is a waste of resources. Pull all field operatives back. We need to focus on Obadiah's situation."
"Yes, Chief."
The line went dead. Coulson set down the terminal and gazed out the window at the city lights streaking past.
He knew tonight's encounter was only the beginning.
And Diluc… was clearly far more dangerous—and far more cunning—than they'd anticipated.