Liam stepped over the last unconscious Black Ridge soldier and took a slow, steady breath. He wasn't tried, but glad that this was all over. He was a bit bored with this his eyoir identity and act like a normal man stuff.
He looked at Steve, who was checking the pulse of the last man to make sure he was still alive.
"All down," Steve said quietly.
Liam nodded. "Good. Let's not waste time."
He turned toward the warehouse and shouted, "Open the back barricade! It's clear! We're done out here!"
Inside, the shouting and banging stopped at once. Everything went quiet.
For a short moment, no one moved. Then, slow footsteps came from the back door as Dawn Watch members hurried to unstack the crates and metal shelves blocking it.
The sound of scraping metal echoed through the warehouse. Finally, the door opened a little, and a few faces peeked out—worried, nervous, unsure if it was really safe.
When they saw Liam standing outside, unhurt, with six unconscious Black Ridge soldiers lying on the ground, everyone froze in disbelief.
The old leader stepped out first, still holding his pistol. He looked around at the bodies and whispered, "You… you took all of them down?"
Steve adjusted his jacket calmly. "We made sure they couldn't call for backup."
Liam kicked a rifle toward the man's feet. "Tie them up," he said. "Use ropes, cables, belt....anything you can find. Take their weapons, radios, amd anything useful. If they wake up, you don't want them moving."
Within moments, more people stepped out of the warehouse. Some were still clutching bats and pipes. Others were empty-handed, whispering prayers or gasping as they looked at the scene.
The braver ones began doing what Liam said. They tied the soldiers' hands with electric wires, torn seat belts, and even ripped pieces of clothing. Pietro helped quickly, pulling weapons from their belts and tossing rifles into a pile near the door.
Wanda walked out more slowly. Her eyes moved from the soldiers to Liam. "You and Stefan did this?" she asked softly. "Just the two of you?"
Liam gave a small shrug. "We got lucky. They weren't ready."
Wanda didn't look convinced. "No," she said quietly. "That wasn't luck."
Behind her, one of the younger men picked up an assault rifle and looked at it like it was made of gold. "These are still loaded," he said in awe. "We could actually use them."
Liam nodded. "You should. Keep every weapon you can carry. You'll need them if Black Ridge comes back for you."
The old woman frowned. "And what about these soldiers?"
Natasha spoke. "Thats up to you. They were here to kill you all and it's fair you guys decide what to do with them...But we can't stay here long either, so be quick.
The old woman looked at her husband. "Do..do we have to kill them?
The old man thought for a few seconds and then shook his head. "No. Killing them will make things worse. Just tie them and gag them. When their people find them, they'll think the mission failed. That's all we need."
The woman hesitated, then nodded slowly.
Liam sighed at that as he felt that killing these men would be a better choice...if not, breaking their limbs would be good too, in case they came to cause trouble again.
He looked at Steve who too looked at him the same time and a silent understanding passed between them.
Just then Wanda spoke, her voice quiet. "You're not from here… are you?"
Liam paused, then gave a faint smile. "You could say that."
The old man crossed his arms. "You fight like trained soldiers. But you're not with any Sokovian force. Who are you?"
Natasha and Liam exchanged a quick look.
Then she said calmly, "We're just people trying to stop the wrong side from winning."
It wasn't a full answer, but it was enough.
The old man studied them for a long moment, then nodded. "Then we owe you our lives."
Liam shook his head. "Not yet. Black Ridge knows this place now. You have to leave now."
The man sighed heavily. "We'll start preparing right away."
Wanda looked at them and asked "And you? Where will you go? Wouldn't you guys be in danger too?"
"We have our ways to hide," Natasha said calmly, her expression unreadable. "Don't worry about us. We know how to disappear when we need to."
Wanda studied her for a moment, then glanced at Liam and Steve. She seemed unsure at first, but then she nodded slowly, accepting that these three clearly knew far more about danger than anyone in Dawn Watch ever had.
After a moment of thought, she spoke again. "There is an old storage house near the river," she said softly. "People do not go there anymore. If you want to meet us tomorrow and talk about all of this, come there at sunrise."
Liam raised a brow. "Sunrise?"
"Yes," Wanda said. "Black Ridge will not look for us that early. And if you need anything from us, information or help or supplies, we will do what we can."
Wanda did not say she wanted the trio to join Dawn Watch. She did not ask them to stay.
But the offer of help and a meeting place was the start of something.
Pietro stood beside his sister and nodded once. "We will be there."
The old man and woman exchanged a quiet look, then bowed their heads in gratitude.
One by one, the Dawn Watch members gathered themselves, picking up the weapons they had taken, helping the elderly, and preparing to leave.
Liam watched them for a moment. They were tired, scared, but still moving. They were ordinary people trying to survive a conflict they never wished to be part of.
Wanda looked at him one last time, her eyes grateful. "Tomorrow, then."
Liam nodded. "Tomorrow."
Dawn Watch began walking into the dark Sokovian streets, following their hidden route. Their figures slowly disappeared into the night.
Only after the last person had vanished behind the broken corner did Liam, Steve, and Natasha turn away. They moved in the opposite direction, their footsteps quiet on the cracked pavement.
The night surrounded them, heavy and cold. Each group went its own way, carrying the weight of what had happened and what was still to come.
---
[New York— The next day]
The Level 9 Secure Chamber of the World Security Council was colder than usual, its metallic walls reflecting the tension clinging to every face seated around the circular table. All seven active Council members were present—Hawley, Singh, Yen, Gideon Keller, Rosalind Thorne, Jovan Markovic, and Alvarez—each of them looking as though the weight of a collapsing world rested on their shoulders. Alexander Pierce entered last. The door sealed behind him with a soft hydraulic hiss, isolating them from the outside world.
"Let's begin," Pierce said, his voice even and controlled. Calm, however, was the last thing in the room.
Hawley leaned forward first, her voice brittle enough to crack. "We're in danger, Alexander."
Singh followed immediately, agitation sharp in every syllable. "The decision has came back haunting all of us....as I had said would happen."
Markovic wiped his forehead, as though the room had grown hotter instead of colder. "We gave the green signal. Our authorization for the nuke to be fired. Our signatures. If this becomes public…" His words trailed off, but the unspoken truth strangled them all.
During the chaos of the Chitauri invasion, they had acted out of fear and desperation, and Fury defied them. They survived the fallout, literally and politically, only because the truth hadn't been revealed yet. But now the digital residue of their authorization threatened to surface, and the Council stood on the edge of a career-ending abyss.
Thorne's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "If any of this ever becomes public—"
"It won't," Pierce answered before she could finish.
Every head turned to him.
Pierce set a sleek titanium briefcase onto the table. "Because today," he said softly, "we solve the problem."
He opened the case, revealing printed hard-copy logs, redacted reports, repair-shop photographs of a supposedly damaged S.H.I.E.L.D. communication relay, and a detailed analysis report accusing Fury of unauthorized protocol manipulation. The tension in the room immediately sharpened. Pierce activated a holographic projector in the center of the table. A rotating three-dimensional display came to life, showing a carefully curated sequence of real surveillance footage: Fury shutting down S.H.I.E.L.D. communications minutes before the missile launch, Fury abruptly ending a Council call, Fury leaving the shawarma joint with Liam, Fury accessing encrypted systems alone late at night, and Fury refusing to return the sceptre when requested.
Every clip was authentic. None of them told the full story.
Yen frowned, her eyes narrowing. "This doesn't show him firing anything."
"Of course it doesn't," Pierce replied. "Fury isn't stupid. He'd manipulate the system through proxies."
The hologram shifted to display a corrupted authorization chain. A corrupted node pinged back to a single S.H.I.E.L.D. relay station. Fury's clearance signature was stamped across it. Pre-prepared evidence packets sat beside it, ready to be handed to media, intelligence partners, and oversight committees.
Pierce intertwined his fingers. "The missile authorization appears to have been hijacked. We're placing the blame on the only man who had the access, capacity, and history of unilateral decision-making."
Markovic swallowed hard. "You mean Fury."
Pierce didn't blink. "I mean that Fury is the story now."
Alvarez leaned forward, whispering as though afraid the walls would hear him. "Alexander… we fired that missile. All of us. Our signatures are still in the system. The archive contains our override commands."
Pierce met each of their eyes with calm, practiced confidence. "No. They are not."
A stunned silence crashed over the room. Pierce slid seven sealed envelopes across the table, one to each member. "These contain sanitized summaries. Your signatures have been removed from every relevant chain. Metadata now points to a corrupted S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol. Nothing traces back to you."
Hawley stared at the envelope like it was a bomb. "Removed? How—?"
"You don't need to know how," Pierce answered firmly. "Only that it is done."
Singh exhaled for the first time that morning, relief loosening the tension in his shoulders. "So your proposal is to make Fury the fall guy."
"To protect the Council, to protect S.H.I.E.L.D., and to protect global stability," Pierce said, "yes."
Markovic tapped the table nervously. "And the public will believe this?"
Pierce's faint smile held no warmth. "I've prepared evidence. I've prepared witnesses. I've constructed a psychological profile. I already drafted a narrative—Fury spiraling after Loki's infiltration, acting alone out of increasing paranoia."
The room slowly began to settle. These were politicians—they survived by story, not truth. And Pierce was offering them a story the world would eat like oxygen.
He continued, his voice smooth and terrifyingly assured. "I've put redundancy in place. Three unconnected intelligence sources will independently point to Fury. Two auditing teams will uncover 'unauthorized protocol tampering' in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s systems. And one internal memo, conveniently written weeks ago, will surface indicating that this Council already had concerns about Fury's stability."
Hawley stared at him, an uneasy mixture of awe and fear crossing her expression. "You planned all of this far ahead…"
"I plan a year ahead," Pierce replied simply.
The vote came next. Pierce remained seated while the Council weighed their fear against logic. When he finally called for a decision, Hawley raised her hand first. Then Yen. Then Thorne. Markovic hesitated, but he too lifted his hand, followed by Keller, Singh, and Alvarez.
The decision was unanimous.
Pierce leaned back as though this outcome had been inevitable. "Excellent. I will handle the operational side personally."
Singh's voice softened, brittle with lingering worry. "And Fury? What if he escapes?"
"He won't," Pierce said without emotion. "His paranoia makes him predictable. And I've been preparing to use that against him."
He locked the titanium case with a quiet snap. "Strike Division Gamma will mobilize the moment I step outside this room. Public narrative teams are ready. A compliance memo will hit every S.H.I.E.L.D. outpost within the hour. By tonight, Fury will find himself isolated. By morning, he'll be in containment."
He paused, then offered the reassurance they needed most. "And even if he runs—even if he survives—he cannot expose you. I made sure of that."
The implication was clear. Pierce had prepared safeguards not just to frame Fury, but also to incriminate the Council if they ever opposed him. They were now locked into this course with him. Their survival depended on his success.
When the meeting adjourned, Pierce paused at the door, hand resting lightly on the panel. "No matter what happens," he said softly, "history will remember Fury as the man who nearly nuked Manhattan."
He turned slightly, eyes cold.
"And history will remember us as the people who tried to stop him."
With that, the door opened, and Pierce stepped out, already moving in calculated strides toward the next phase. Behind him, seven of the world's most powerful individuals sat trapped in a web they had willingly entered, while the man who spun it walked away to set the trap in motion.
***
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