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The storage room fell into a heavy, unsettling silence.
Arthur and Natasha didn't speak, letting the sounds of the staff sorting crates and the low hum of the scanners fill the void. This tension made the two newcomers visibly uncomfortable. Wanda cleared her throat subconsciously. When both Arthur and Natasha turned their gazes toward her, she offered a tight, forced smile.
"Um… well… it's nothing."
Her posture screamed that she had something on her mind but was desperately trying to keep it hidden.
Arthur offered a slight shrug. "If you have something to say, just say it. There's no secret police here. Even if your theory is wrong, it's fine."
"How… humane of you," Wanda replied with a small, nervous smile. "I just think that jumping to a conclusion that Fury is sending you a signal, based on such a small, incomplete piece of information… isn't that a bit too hasty?"
Noticing their continued scrutiny, Wanda pushed ahead. "I don't know this Fury, and I don't fully understand what you're talking about. But perhaps… this whole thing really was an accident? Even if he knew how important these plans were, what about all the other people involved in the transfer? It's possible something slipped through, something that none of you know about, right?"
Natasha let out a soft, knowing chuckle. "Interesting. And logically sound. It's certainly not impossible. Unfortunately, you don't know Fury. You have no idea how airtight that man is."
"Is he that scary?" Wanda asked.
"Very scary," Natasha confirmed, then looked at Arthur. "You're right about him, I think. But I still don't recommend seeing him directly. No one knows what kind of chaos is unfolding around him right now. And Steve hasn't sent back any messages."
"That's scary too," Arthur mused, stroking his chin. "So what exactly has gone down inside S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"What are you suspecting now?" Natasha asked, her expression turning immediately serious.
Arthur shook his head. "I won't know until I talk to Fury face-to-face."
"Do you need me to arrange anything?" Natasha asked.
Arthur thought for a moment. "Just one thing. I need to know: where does the Director sleep every night?"
The street was utterly quiet. Only the occasional roar of a passing motorcycle broke the silence. In such a deep stillness, the abrupt, final click of a car engine shutting off sounded unusually loud.
Nick Fury pushed open the car door, rubbed the exhaustion from his face, and cast one last, suspicious glance down the narrow alleyway. He locked the door and headed toward the unassuming apartment building nearby.
Third floor, room 303.
He paused before touching the doorknob, checking his surroundings again. Some precautions were simply instinct. You could never be sure if the place meant to be the safest had already become the deadliest trap.
After running through several internal, over-the-top security checks, Fury finally pushed the door open.
The living room was exactly as he had left it; nothing appeared out of place.
He locked the door behind him and let out a long, shuddering breath.
"I assumed that, at this hour, you would finally be safe… and relaxed."
A voice suddenly echoed from the living room. Fury's pupils contracted sharply, and his entire body tensed, the muscles beneath his black trench coat bunching uncomfortably.
But the tension vanished an instant later.
He recognized the voice.
In front of this person, tensing up, let alone drawing a hidden weapon, was utterly meaningless if the intent was hostile.
Turning around, Fury saw exactly who he had half-expected to see sitting on his sofa.
The man was holding a glass of amber liquid. God knows where he had gotten it, since none of the thirty-two bottles in the wine cabinet had been disturbed.
"Where did you get that?" Fury glanced at the glass.
"A very good place," Arthur said with a smile. "Want some?"
"I never drink while I'm on the clock."
Fury tossed his keys onto the shoe cabinet, slipped into his house slippers, and walked toward Arthur. "Besides, Tony's alcohol isn't as great as he thinks. Don't assume money can buy everything. Some pleasures can't be bought, no matter how much you spend."
He gave the wine cabinet a sharp look. "If you're interested, check the third bottle on the second shelf. That's good stuff."
"Keeping good liquor in the home of a teetotaler is a waste." Arthur tilted his head. "And if I'm not mistaken, you're technically off duty right now."
"The moment I saw your face, I stopped being off duty."
Fury fixed his unwavering gaze on Arthur. "Why am I looking at you in my own home?"
"That probably stems from all the questions you've caused me to have," Arthur replied, smiling faintly. "If you're willing, you can offer a reasonable explanation now."
"About the Pegasus Project?"
The casual way Fury said the name was proof enough: the appearance of those blueprints at Camp Lehigh was no accident.
Arthur settled deeper into the sofa. "Looks like you really do have a problem."
"The one with a problem isn't me… it's this world," Fury said, closing his eye for a brief moment, unwilling to let Arthur see the sheer exhaustion within it. "You cannot imagine what it's like, when you dedicate yourself to a cause, when you fight with everything you have against a known enemy, only to realize that the people around you, the ones running your intelligence, your operations, your entire organization, are the very people you need to fight with your full strength. It is a truly damnable feeling."
"So the world didn't go wrong, the seeds planted that day were never fully purged?"
"The fact that Loki's scepter went missing already tells the whole story," Fury stated grimly. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is rotten. Completely, right down to its roots… I honestly don't even know if I'm still the Director because they need me to sit in this chair and keep working for them, or because this version of me poses absolutely no threat to them anymore."
"A frustrated, boiled egg," Arthur summarized with a shrug.
"…What egg?"
"A culinary term."
Arthur stood up. "I have a decent grasp now of the situation you've landed yourself in."
Fury watched Arthur's back. "This is my problem to deal with."
"I never planned to solve your problems for you," Arthur clarified, glancing back. "What I really want to know is, what are you going to do next?"
"Then just wait and see."
After saying that, Fury suddenly let out a quick, dry chuckle. "Aren't you curious where the Pegasus Project texts actually originated?"
"The Kree script…"
Arthur's calm answer, meant to surprise Fury, ended up shocking him far more than anticipated.
He shot upright on the couch. "You saw those?"
(End of this chapter)