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"Who am I?"
The old white man stopped and studied the group with his one good eye, the one not covered by an eyepatch.
The look felt oddly familiar to Coulson.
"Lower the weapon, Coulson."
The old man spoke as casually as if he were asking about the weather.
"Your safety's loose. I told you that in Peru last time; still haven't fixed it, I see."
"Ah… you're—"
Coulson gasped, eyes bulging as he stared at the completely unfamiliar white face.
That tone.
That walk.
And the tiny detail about the safety that only he and a handful of others knew.
"…Director Fury?" Coulson breathed, stunned. "But… your skin… "
"M.J. didn't change this much, did he?"
Fury gave an unconcerned shrug.
"Tactical camouflage, Coulson. Certain well-known reasons mean my old face sets off red alerts at every airport on Earth. I had to make… minor adjustments."
He stepped past Coulson, up to the "Black Nick Fury" standing opposite him.
The "Black Fury" rolled his neck, then let his skin ripple and shift.
A moment later another Skrulls—Talos—stood in front of them.
Everyone glanced sideways again.
Fury turned, gaze finally settling on the restrained Ward.
"Confused, Agent Ward?"
"The coordinates you received were correct. I am here."
"But, sadly, there's no alien weapon for you—just a snake trap built specially for HYDRA."
Ward clenched his teeth, eyes venomous. "How's Garrett?"
"Doing fine. You'll be seeing him in hell soon enough."
Fury ignored him and looked away.
"Originally this was only meant to be a screening op. I wanted to see who on that plane, besides this little snake, could still be trusted."
His gaze swept over Coulson, May, Fitz, Simmons, and finally landed on Skye.
"Congratulations—you all passed."
"Test?"
Coulson finally shook off his shock; anger at being deceived surged. He stepped forward, staring into the unfamiliar face.
"You call this a test, sir?"
"If Ward had shot May instead of throwing a punch?"
"You were gambling with our lives!"
"This is war, Coulson!"
Fury's voice suddenly rose; the pressure made Coulson instinctively half-step back.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is gone! HYDRA's spread through us like cancer! I can't trust anyone!"
"I have to know if, when I turn my back, someone's going to stab me in it!"
Silence filled the hall.
"Take him away." Fury waved.
Two Skrulls Agents hauled Ward toward the detention cells deep in the Base.
Ward didn't struggle or beg. As he passed Skye he looked at her, lips moving as if to speak, but only left a complicated stare before vanishing into the dark.
"All right, reunion's over."
Fury adjusted his collar and strode to the command console.
"We've got work. S.H.I.E.L.D. may be dead, but we're not. While we're breathing, the war's not over."
"Wait."
Coulson called after him.
"Sir, about Ward… I understand. About you faking your death and swapping faces—crazy, but I can live with it."
"But—"
Coulson pointed at the green alien beside Fury rubbing his chin—Talos—and at the Skrulls Agents resuming human disguise.
"…we need to talk about this."
"How many of these… things are on Earth?"
Coulson's tone turned deadly serious.
"They can impersonate anyone."
"If they wanted, they could replace the President, Congress, even… us."
"My job as a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent is to protect Earth from threats. And right now you seem to be working with one."
The air froze again.
Talos stopped, looked at Coulson, expression unreadable, saying nothing.
Fury kept his back to them.
"How many? Doesn't matter, Phil."
He didn't turn; his voice was low.
"What matters is that, at this god-forsaken hour, they're our only allies."
"Allies?" Simmons whispered. "Every sci-fi novel I've read says alien races only conquer or get conquered…"
"They're different."
Fury walked over and clapped the Skrulls leader on the shoulder.
"Talos and his people are refugees—driven from their world, hunted by the Kree. They just want somewhere to live."
"I promised them a new home. In exchange they lend me their strength and their intel network."
"It's a deal—a fair one."
"But how do you guarantee they won't turn on us?" Melinda May asked coldly, hand still resting on her holster. "One day they decide Earth looks nice—why not swap owners?"
"They wouldn't dare."
Fury's answer was absolute.
"I've got a trump card—one that keeps them from ever crossing that line."
"Everything is under my control. Don't doubt it."
Years of trust in their old commander kept Coulson and May silent; they exchanged a look and said nothing.
"So what now?" Coulson asked.
"Next step—I have my plan, and what I need from you is—"
"I don't buy it."
A clear voice cut bluntly across Fury's briefing.
Skye stepped forward. Young, but with no lack of steel.
"I don't buy your trump card or your control."
She met Fury's eye, suspicion blazing.
"Everything you just said is classic politician-speak. 'All under control'? Hah! You said that plenty before S.H.I.E.L.D. kicked you out—then HYDRA hid under your nose for decades!"
"Your kind of control—like when you 'managed' those kids with powers?"
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Fitz and Simmons shrank.
They knew what she meant—the recent Secret Warriors scandal.
Skye was essentially slapping Fury in the face with it.
"And now you bring in a bunch of shape-shifting aliens."
She pointed at Fitz, then at May.
"How do I know Fitz is still Fitz tomorrow? May still May?"
"By the end of this war will the green guys have replaced us all and taken over Earth?"