— Nick Fury's POV —
The Triskelion never slept, not even at three in the morning. Banks of monitors filled the dim operations floor with cold light as analysts traced global energy readings. Most of the data was background noise—Stark's latest prototype, an Asgardian relic humming somewhere in Norway—but tonight something different had lit the board.
"Director, unidentified energy event over New York," Agent Hill reported, eyes fixed on the holographic feed. "Pattern doesn't match any Stark tech, nor the Tesseract, nor any known alien signature."
I leaned forward. "Show me."
A swirling distortion appeared on-screen—a ring of blue lightning tearing open mid-air, then collapsing in on itself within seconds. The sensors spiked and flat-lined.
"That wasn't a malfunction," I muttered. "Somebody opened a door."
We'd seen our share of portals—Chitauri, Dark Elves, you name it—but this one… it was quiet, surgical, like whoever did it knew how to hide it. And that scared me more than any explosion.
"Send a recon team," I ordered. "Non-lethal engagement protocol. Bring back samples, footage—anything."
Hill nodded. "Yes, sir."
Hours later, I stood in the command center again, coffee cooling in my hand. The screen flashed red. Team Sigma—Signal Lost.
Every feed cut out at once. No audio, no visuals, just static.
Hill's expression hardened. "That's the third drone sweep with nothing, Director. The ground team vanished six minutes after arrival."
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Vanished, or someone made sure they couldn't report back?"
She didn't answer. She didn't have to. We both knew.
I turned to the technicians. "Run the last frame before blackout."
The image froze on four figures—blurred, masked, perched above the alley where the portal had appeared. Armor, animal-shaped masks, blades glinting faintly in the dark. And then—static.
Hill frowned. "Tactical suits, but not ours. Movement speed is off the charts."
I stared at the frozen image. Whoever they were, they weren't from this world—or at least, not from any world we understood.
"Get Stark, Banner, and Rogers on standby," I said finally. "Tell them we've got ghosts in New York. Real ones."
I turned toward the glass wall overlooking the Potomac, the city lights reflecting in the water below. Somewhere out there, a hole had been punched through reality, and whoever stepped through had already taken out a S.H.I.E.L.D. unit without leaving a trace.
I hated mysteries. But this one? This one felt like the start of something big.
"Find them before they find us."