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If Nick Fury hadn't deliberately left Hydra's people in the loop, the entire operation would've been exposed instantly. Hydra would've smelled it the second the roster looked "too clean," like someone had scrubbed it with bleach and a guilty conscience.
But honestly? Exposure was kind of inevitable anyway.
Obadiah Stane wasn't some random arms dealer you could quietly slap cuffs on and drag into a van. He was Obadiah Stane, the kind of man who didn't just cast a shadow, he practically owned the sunlight. Touch someone like that and the whole system starts vibrating.
Even if Fury had used only his most trusted agents, the news would still leak. Hydra, the FBI, the CIA, the US military, everyone with ears in the right places would hear about it sooner rather than later. The only difference was how fast each group got the memo.
And the speed at which the information spread didn't change Fury's plan.
Because the real question was: would Hydra openly sabotage the arrest?
Pretty unlikely. Hydra preferred knives in the dark, not a spotlight on the stage. And even if they did try something flashy, Fury wasn't exactly sending interns.
Clint Barton, Hawkeye, was on the team. The guy didn't miss, ever. Plus, with his Devil Fruit, if Hydra made a move, they'd be doing it with an arrow already halfway to their bad decisions.
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"Sir, Fury has suddenly dispatched a team to arrest Obadiah Stane!"
Just as Fury had predicted, Coulson's team had barely set out when the information reached Hydra's ears.
Marco received the report almost immediately. He didn't shout. He didn't panic. He just frowned slightly, like someone had changed the rules of a game without asking.
"Fury's moving against Obadiah…" Marco murmured, eyes narrowing. "Which means Fury found something."
It was the only conclusion that made sense.
Stane had money, influence, and enough political armor to survive things that would sink normal people ten times over. Fury wouldn't move against him without hard proof or something even worse than proof.
And since Fury had already committed, it wasn't smart to interfere directly. Picking a fight with Fury was like headbutting a wall and being surprised when the wall didn't apologize.
Still, warning Stane posed no problem at all.
Marco reached for his phone and contacted Wesley, the liaison responsible for keeping Stane in Hydra's orbit. His voice stayed calm, but the message carried weight.
"Pass it on. Fury's coming."
He paused briefly, then added, "If Stane needs a way out, give him cover. Quietly. Cleanly."
Whether Stane ran or fought back, one thing was sure: The moment Fury made his move, the board was no longer stable.
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"What?!"
"Agents from S.H.I.E.L.D. are coming to arrest me?"
Obadiah Stane didn't get shocked easily; he'd built a whole career out of acting like nothing in the world could surprise him. But when the warning reached him, genuine surprise flickered across his face.
He'd assumed he and that little alphabet-soup agency had already reached a mutual understanding. You stay out of my way, I stay out of yours, and everyone pretends to be civilized.
So why the sudden arrest?
For a heartbeat, his expression tightened… and then, almost like a switch flipped, a cold smile crept across his lips.
"Perfect timing," he muttered. "I've been wanting to test the power of the Munch-Munch Fruit. If they're coming, they couldn't have picked a better moment."
For days now, Obadiah had been locked away in his private world, obsessively refining his Devil Fruit ability like a mad scientist with infinite funding. He'd swallowed weapons by the truckload: submachine guns, missiles, rocket launchers, armored plating, entire tanks...
He had even swallowed fighter jets.
Tens of billions of dollars' worth of cutting-edge military hardware had been devoured whole, disappearing into him like the world's most expensive magic trick. But Obadiah didn't see it as waste.
He saw it as an investment.
Because when you had enough money, enough influence, and enough patience, even someone "ordinary" could be turned into something terrifying.
You just had to keep feeding the monster until it grew teeth.
So running away? That had never been on the table. Obadiah had never even considered it.
In fact, even if S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't come for him, Obadiah had planned to make a move sooner or later. A man like him would never be content to remain someone else's puppet forever.
His eyes cooled, turning sharp as broken glass.
"Tony…" Obadiah said quietly, the name coming out like an insult. "You've caused me a lot of trouble."
The moment he realized it was Tony who had dug up the evidence and handed it straight to S.H.I.E.L.D., something dark flashed behind his eyes.
Tony Stark.
Obadiah would not let him walk away.
Last time, the Middle Eastern terrorists had been pathetic. The job had been simple, and they still managed to mess it up, leaving Obadiah to clean up the aftermath and pushing him into the corner he was standing in now.
This time would be different.
This time, Obadiah would take matters into his own hands and erase the problem for good. If anyone had been watching, they would have noticed just how twisted and vicious his smile had become.
"Sir," his confidant William said a moment later, stepping forward respectfully, "the agents have arrived."
Obadiah's smile didn't fade.
"Good."
He reached for a remote control and pressed a button. The large screen in front of him lit up instantly, splitting into several surveillance feeds. Three familiar figures appeared on the monitors, crisp and clear.
Agent Coulson.
Natasha Romanoff.
Clint Barton.
Obadiah stared at them, calm as if he were watching guests arrive for dinner.
"Natasha Romanoff," Obadiah murmured, eyes narrowing. "The Mimic-Mimic Fruit user."
A low chuckle slipped out of him, soft, pleased, and a little too eager.
"Well, well," he drawled, like he'd just opened a gift he hadn't even ordered. "What a pleasant surprise."
He barely spared a glance for anyone else. His attention locked onto Natasha Romanoff like she was the only person standing there, like the rest of the strike team was just background noise.
A Devil Fruit user… delivered right to his doorstep.
And that made his mind start racing.
He remembered what the Shopkeeper had implied: how his power could stack, evolve… steal. The question was: had he finally reached that "level"?
Could he take another Devil Fruit user's power? Just imagining it sent a thrill through him, not due to fear, not due to caution, but rather excitement.
As for Hawkeye, Stane didn't recognize him at all.
After all, among S.H.I.E.L.D.'s operatives, Black Widow was the only Devil Fruit user publicly known. Barton and Fury himself kept their abilities strictly classified. Classified, buried, and locked behind enough secrecy to make a government accountant cry.
Barton's situation wasn't exactly a secret to Hydra's upper ranks, but to people outside that inner circle, he was basically just "the guy with a bow." And Fury? Fury was Fury. Nobody knew what he was doing until it was already done.
"Since my guests are here," Obadiah said with a wide grin, taking a slow drag from his cigar, "how could I, being such a gracious host, not go greet them properly?"
He inhaled deeply, like he had all the time in the world. Then he exhaled a lazy smoke ring, stood, and strode toward the door with the confidence of a man who thought he'd already won.
He pushed it open and headed down the corridor toward the first-floor hall. As he approached the entrance, he noticed light flickering through the thin seam of the front gate, shifting in irregular pulses.
No doubt about it, they were right at the entrance.
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Outside the gate, Agent Coulson stood with his expression set to "this is going to be a long day," giving his final instructions to the team.
"Everyone, listen carefully," Coulson said, voice tight and serious. "Our target is an extremely dangerous Devil Fruit user. Stay alert, follow procedure, and do not make mistakes."
The agents beside him were tense in that very specific way people got when they knew they were about to walk into something they didn't fully understand. No one was joking. No one was relaxed.
Because everyone in that line of work understood what the phrase Devil Fruit user really meant.
It meant the rules could change at any second.
"Alright," Coulson said firmly. "Move in."
At his command, an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent sprinted forward and began attaching a compact explosive charge to the gate, hands moving quickly and professionally as he prepared to breach by force.
*Clang!*
But before the charge could even be detonated, the gate began to open on its own, rumbling loudly.
As it swung fully wide, Obadiah Stane appeared in front of them.
He stood boldly in the courtyard, legs planted like he owned the property and the air above it. A cigar hung from the corner of his mouth, smoke curling around his face as he exhaled at his leisure.
Looking every bit as smug and self-assured as could be.
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Next Chapter: The Munch-Munch Fruit vs. S.H.I.E.L.D.
Next Next Chapter: S.H.I.E.L.D. Is Powerless
Next Next Next Chapter: A Fated Showdown: Iron Monger vs. Tony Stark
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