Nick Fury was nervous.
He had arrived on time, but the weight of today's meeting sat heavy on his shoulders.
"One trillion dollars… can he really get that much?" Fury thought, doubt creeping into his usually steady mind.
It wasn't just skepticism for skepticism's sake. Even Stark Industries, with all its resources, couldn't pull together that kind of money on short notice. To Fury, the promise sounded impossible.
A sharp series of knocks echoed from the villa door. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Fury stood, his one good eye narrowing, and opened the door.
Malrick stepped inside, calm and confident, as if the world bent to his pace.
"For you," Malrick said simply.
Fury hesitated. How was he supposed to ask for the money? He didn't even know how to phrase the request without sounding ridiculous. And truthfully, he didn't believe Malrick could possibly have it.
But before Fury could speak, Malrick did. With a small, almost amused smile, he pulled a bank card from his pocket and tossed it lightly across the room.
Fury caught it, staring down at the piece of plastic in his hand, baffled.
"What the hell is this supposed to mean?" Fury muttered, more to himself than to Malrick.
"The money is all in there," Malrick replied, his tone calm, confident, and absolute.
Fury froze. "What did you just say?"
Malrick's smile didn't falter. "You heard me. One trillion dollars. It's all in that card."
For once, Nick Fury was stunned into silence. His instinct was to scoff, but Malrick's expression carried not even a hint of doubt.
"You're not mistaken?" Fury asked, almost against his own better judgment.
"Not at all," Malrick said firmly, nodding.
Fury didn't waste another second. From his coat, he pulled out a compact ATM detector—an emergency device prepared precisely for moments like this. Sliding the card into the reader, he braced himself for disappointment.
And then… he saw the numbers.
Zero after zero after zero. So many that his breath caught in his throat. His heart rate spiked, and his hands tightened on the device.
It was real. The money was actually there.
"God…" Fury whispered, staring at the card as though it were a holy relic.
"Believe it now?" Malrick asked, his tone laced with amusement. The legendary spymaster, Nick Fury, always calm, always composed, now stood wide-eyed like a rookie. The sight was more than a little entertaining.
Fury let out a shaky laugh and nodded quickly. "I believe it. Damn right I believe it."
He kept staring at the card in disbelief. It was absurd. Unreal. To think that in a single moment, he had the resources to rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D. entirely… it felt like a dream.
"You're ready to rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D.," Malrick reminded him, his voice steady and direct.
That snapped Fury out of his daze. "Right. Of course."
With renewed purpose burning in his eye, he tucked the card away safely. The weight of doubt was gone, replaced by something else entirely—hope, and maybe even awe. Without another word, he turned and left the villa, determination fueling his stride.
Malrick watched him go.
"Another thing handled," he murmured to himself, his expression calm but his eyes sharp.
Yes, he was satisfied.
Because today, another step of his plan had fallen perfectly into place.
____
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