The glass doors slid open.
Three figures stepped inside.
Natasha Romanoff, dressed in plain black, looked travel-worn but sharp as ever.
Right behind her came Clint Barton, quiet, alert.
Last was a man in a black leather trench coat, bald head gleaming under the lights, a single eye cold and steady—
Nick Fury.
Global fugitive.
Media-labeled "the rat inside S.H.I.E.L.D."
Public enemy number one.
And yet, the way he walked—
He still owned the room.
"Wow."
Tony Stark spread his arms theatrically but made no move to hug anyone, instead leaning against a workbench with a crooked grin.
"Look who it is. Director of HYDRA S.H.I.E.L.D. himself."
"Tony," Natasha said lightly, a nod serving as her greeting.
Then her eyes shifted to the man beside him, a faint smile appearing. "Hey, Bruce."
"Natasha," Banner replied, a little awkwardly.
Fury ignored Tony's sarcasm entirely. He strode to the center of the lab, his single eye sweeping across the advanced equipment before locking onto Tony.
"We need to talk, Stark."
"If you're here to apply for Stark Industries' emergency relief fund," Tony shrugged, "I can have Pepper send you a form. I'm busy figuring out how to keep my green buddy from tearing the planet in half."
"I'm here to take back what's mine," Fury said flatly, planting both hands on the holographic table and leaning forward, pressure radiating from him.
"Your stuff?" Tony snorted. "Every bolt in this room says Stark."
"I want my team back," Fury said.
"The Avengers."
"Ha!"
Tony spread his hands as if he'd just heard the joke of the year.
"The Avengers? You mean that loosely organized civilian club that can't even get everyone to show up for meetings?"
He gestured toward the window.
"Nick, wake up. This is Vought's era now. Homelander and his Seven are putting out fires worldwide—ten thousand times more efficiently than we ever did. The Avengers? We're obsolete."
"Vought?" Fury sneered.
"That's a private corporation. A capital monster that only cares about ratings and profit margins."
He fixed Tony with a hard stare.
"You're a smart man, Tony. Do you really think it's wise to hand the world's safety to a bunch of PR-packaged performers?"
"Performers?" Tony shot back.
"At least they do something. What was S.H.I.E.D.L.D. doing? Running a HYDRA incubator program?"
"Under your watch, Nick, HYDRA hollowed S.H.I.E.L.D. out from the inside. And now you're asking me to trust you?"
"That was my failure," Fury admitted through clenched teeth.
"And that's why I'm fixing it now."
"The world needs the Avengers—an independent force. Not owned by capital, not controlled by sponsors."
"Save it," Tony said, turning away as he picked up a screwdriver.
"I am capital. Stark Industries makes Vought look like a lemonade stand. By your logic, I'm untrustworthy too."
"You're different," Natasha cut in smoothly.
"You've got a conscience, Tony. Not a big one—but it's there."
"Thanks for the endorsement, Romanoff," Tony replied without turning.
"But my conscience says don't step back into this mess."
He waved dismissively over his shoulder.
"If that's all, JARVIS, escort them out. Pack them some sandwiches on the way—my treat."
The verbal sparring had gone nowhere.
Fury knew it.
So he played his final card.
"Tony Stark!"
Fury's voice snapped like a whip.
"You think you're standing here sipping green sludge because you're smart?"
"Because you're rich?"
"Because of that tin suit?"
Tony froze.
"You're here because I saved your damn life."
Tony turned slowly, eyes sharp.
"What are you talking about?"
Fury pointed straight at Tony's chest.
"When your blood was poisoned. When you were sitting in a donut shop waiting to die—
who injected you with lithium dioxide?"
"And who handed you Howard Stark's old research?
Who gave you a second chance at life?"
Fury jabbed a thumb into his own chest.
"Me."
"I dragged you back from hell. I put your father's legacy in your hands."
"I gave you the chance to fix the reactor—and survive."
"You owe me, Stark."
"That debt?" Fury said coldly.
"You haven't paid it yet."
Silence fell over the lab.
Only the faint hum of holograms filled the air.
Banner stood awkwardly off to the side, pretending to study data.
Natasha and Barton remained expressionless—clearly, they'd known Fury would play this card.
Tony slowly set down his tool.
A storm of emotions flickered across his face.
He hated being guilt-tripped.
But he was proud.
And he never ignored a life debt.
"…Tch."
Tony drained his glass of green sludge in one go.
"Fine."
He dragged over a chair, dropped into it, and crossed his legs.
"You win, Cyclops. This round's yours."
He waved impatiently.
"So what is it? Want me to wipe your wanted status by hacking the Pentagon? JARVIS can do it in ten seconds."
"It's not about the warrant," Fury said.
"That doesn't matter."
He pulled out a photograph and placed it on the table.
"I need you to retrieve something."
The image showed a long golden scepter, a gemstone at its tip glowing with eerie blue light.
"The Mind Scepter," Tony said instantly.
"Loki's fancy back-scratcher."
"Yes," Fury replied grimly.
"It was supposed to be locked in a S.H.I.E.L.D. vault."
"But HYDRA transferred it—right in front of us. Legally."
"Now it's in Sokovia."
The map zoomed in on an Eastern European mountain range, a fortress hidden among the peaks.
"Baron Wolfgang von Strucker.
One of HYDRA's top leaders."
"He's using the scepter for human experiments—trying to create more super-soldiers."
"I need you to get it back."
Fury looked at everyone present.
"With the scepter's mind-control capabilities, I can turn the tables on Pierce."
"Pierce is clever—but he's still human. A nudge inside his head is all it takes."
"He'll spill everything. Names. Accounts. Secrets."
"This is our only chance to flip the board—
to purge the darkness inside S.H.I.E.L.D. and bring it back into the light."
Fury's voice dropped, heavy with resolve.
"This… is the only way we win."
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