On Earth, no matter your background or the power you claim to wield, there's one place that stands above all others in real influence—the Oval Office of the White House.
Every command issued from this room, every carefully measured word spoken, has the potential to shift global power balances.
The United States may not yet have declined to the point of needing a world-saving figure, but it remains the only true superpower—its reach extending into the deepest corners of the world.
Now, in this hallowed room of authority, moments after Daniel and Stark had departed, silence lingered. The President was seemingly alone—until a hidden panel in the wall slid open. From the shadows stepped a familiar figure: the bald-headed Nick Fury.
"You heard everything, Fury," President Walker said, his gaze sharp. "Tell me—can we trust Daniel van der Berg?"
The question wasn't surprising. President Garrett Walker trusted no one completely—not even Nick Fury, the man who moved in and out of the White House through secret passages known to only a handful.
Fury didn't answer immediately. Then he spoke, his tone even, analytical. "Trust has limits. There are... gaps in his background. Places we can't trace."
Despite all his resources, even Fury—Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and master of global intelligence—had found nothing suspicious in Daniel's files. And that, ironically, was the most suspicious thing of all.
But that made sense. The Bakshi family, Daniel's secret backers, had spent over a century operating from the shadows in the Netherlands. Their tendrils reached deep into global finance, politics, and intelligence. They had crafted Daniel's identity with surgical precision.
Even worse, Hydra agents had infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. so thoroughly that any mention of Daniel's real ties would vanish before reaching Fury's desk. From Empire State University to Daniel's fabricated Dutch roots, the paper trail was flawless.
But the real issue wasn't his résumé—it was the magic. Daniel wielded extraordinary power. Where did he learn it? When? From whom? No record existed. And no one dared ask him directly—not even the President.
Walker finally broke the silence as he said, "Let it go. A man like that will have secrets—it's expected. As long as he's working for us, that's all that matters."
Fury gave a single nod. "Understood, Mr. President."
Walker smirked slightly. He knew Fury too well. The man would keep digging, just more discreetly now. That was why Fury held the reins of S.H.I.E.L.D.—because even the things he wasn't told to do, he did.
Technically, Fury reported to the World Security Council. But in truth, he took orders from the Oval Office. Few knew that his secret passage to the White House had been built during the Truman administration. Every president since Eisenhower had used him for covert operations no one else could be trusted with.
His title—Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.—was just one layer of the job.
After the disappearance of the original Captain America, a replacement had been installed. But he was a symbol, not a force. The real strategic power lay in the Roaring Commando Unit, now answerable only to Fury... and by extension, to the President himself.
Walker stood, poured himself a whiskey, then poured another for Fury. He handed the glass across with a weighty question, "What do you make of Daniel's distrust of Alexander Pierce?"
Fury's brow tightened and said, "Pierce has always been dependable. But…"
Fury didn't need to finish. More than ten years of working with Pierce had taught him to recognize when something felt... off. And lately, too many things had felt that way.
"Be honest with me," Walker said, his voice turning colder. "If Pierce is compromised, I'll replace him. We can't afford this kind of risk—not now."
The real issue wasn't loyalty—it was timing. Pierce's presence during the Mind Scepter handover had been... unexpected. That alone raised red flags. It should've been Fury leading that operation, not Pierce. And yet Pierce had not only shown up—he had rushed to grab the scepter.
Daniel had hinted that Pierce held too much sway over S.H.I.E.L.D.'s operations division. Rumlow, the Special Ops commander, and even Agent Sitwell, a Level 8 agent, were taking orders from Pierce. That level of influence wasn't just concerning—it was dangerous.
Before the alien invasion, Walker might've let this internal power struggle within S.H.I.E.L.D. play out on its own. But now, with the election looming and public confidence fragile, he couldn't afford the risk.
Yes, the invasion had been stopped. The Avengers would get the headlines, but in the eyes of the public, it was President Walker who had stood firm. That narrative would carry weight in the next campaign—especially once the media machine spun into full gear.
But victory brought visibility, and visibility brought vulnerability.
Everyone knew Loki had vanished with the Tesseract. He could reappear anywhere, at any time. Even in this very room. And if he still had the Mind Scepter?
It was a nightmare scenario: a god with mind control abilities, able to teleport into any secure location. The only reassurance was that S.H.I.E.L.D. now had the scepter. That gave Earth—and the President—breathing room.
But only if S.H.I.E.L.D. could be trusted to hold it.
That's where Daniel came in. Walker didn't see him just as an asset, he was an inside check. A new set of eyes to expose any blind spots Fury might miss.
Fury understood this too. He'd seen the growing cracks inside S.H.I.E.L.D. And Pierce's sudden move for the scepter had lodged a thorn in Fury's mind.
After a pause, Fury answered carefully. "I still trust Secretary Pierce. But given the situation, I'll increase Hill's authority. We need faster internal response if anything goes wrong."
It was a subtle move, but Walker heard the message loud and clear: Fury didn't yet have evidence, but he was preparing for the possibility.
Sitwell would be reassigned. Hill's command would expand. And piece by piece, Pierce's influence would be dismantled.
Walker sighed, lifted his glass for a toast. "I was on track to win next year with a 70% lead. And then all this happened."
"You handled it well. The approval bump tomorrow will reflect that," Fury said coolly.
Walker nodded, then shifted gears. "I want you to push for stronger diplomatic ties with Asgard. Liaison officers. Technology exchanges. Formal agreements. We need people over there."
Fury didn't blink. He understood the strategy. On the surface, it looked like a diplomatic outreach. But in truth, Walker wanted access to Asgardian tech—to level the playing field after the alien incursion.
Despite all the Chitauri weapons recovered, none of them could be used by humans. They were essentially glorified paperweights. This fact was being kept from the public, of course, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was racing to confiscate every last one to maintain the illusion of progress.
The people believed Earth had gained a technological edge, and that illusion kept Walker's numbers high.
Fury raised an eyebrow. "If it works out, who are you planning to send to Asgard? Don't tell me you're thinking of Daniel van der Berg?"
Walker laughed and replied, "Not a chance. Even if we ran out of candidates, it wouldn't be him. Come on—don't joke like that."