The call ended with a soft click. Smith lowered the phone and turned his attention to the three people standing before him, Natasha, Melina, and Alexei. He pressed the intercom button on his desk.
"Fox, I need you in here."
A moment later, Fox entered the office, her sharp eyes sweeping across the room's occupants with practiced assessment.
Smith gestured toward the trio. "From this point forward, these three are part of the Fraternity."
Fox's eyebrow arched slightly. Just hours ago, Natasha had been exposed as a SHIELD plant. Now she stood here with two companions, apparently joining the organization she'd been sent to infiltrate. Fox had seen stranger things in her years with the Fraternity, but the speed of this development gave her pause.
Still, she'd learned long ago not to question Smith's decisions. She nodded crisply. "Understood. I'll handle the integration procedures."
Her gaze shifted to the two newcomers. "And these are?"
"Melina Vostokoff," Smith said, indicating the older woman whose posture carried the rigid discipline of Soviet training. "Known in some circles as the Iron Maiden. She's family to Natasha."
He turned to the broad-shouldered man whose chest seemed to swell with barely contained pride. "Alexei Shostakov. Former Red Guardian. Also family."
Fox studied Natasha with renewed interest. The entire family defecting together, that was commitment, whether born from loyalty or desperation. She filed the information away for later analysis.
"Natasha, stay behind," Smith said. "We need to talk."
Fox collected Melina and Alexei with a gesture, leading them toward the door. "The Fraternity has certain philosophies and protocols you'll need to understand. Let's begin your orientation."
As the door closed behind them, the office fell into a weighted silence. Natasha remained standing, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, a casual pose that belied the tension Smith could read in the set of her shoulders.
Before she could speak, Fox reappeared, slipping back through the door with a manila folder in hand. She crossed to Smith's desk and laid it open before him.
"While you were on the call, I finalized the site selections," Fox said. "Three properties in the New York suburbs, all suitable for construction. Eight acres, twelve acres, and sixteen acres." She tapped each listing in turn. "Locations and surveys are included."
Smith flipped through the documents, his eyes scanning topographical maps and zoning reports. The properties increased in size and isolation, more space meant more distance from prying eyes. He thought of the Avengers compound he'd seen in his previous life's memories, sprawling across the landscape of upstate New York. That facility had been impressive, but it had also been a target.
His base would need to be larger. More secure. Ready for what was coming.
"The sixteen-acre plot," he said, tapping the final listing. "Acquire it immediately and break ground as soon as the paperwork clears."
The property was twice the size of the future Avengers facility. Good. Let Stark build his gleaming monument to heroism. Smith would construct something far more practical, a fortress that could weather the storm he knew was coming. When the Chitauri tore through the sky above Manhattan, when Loki's army poured through that portal, the Fraternity would be ready.
Fox nodded, already making notes on a tablet. "The sellers have been contacted. We can sign contracts within the week."
She hesitated, her pen hovering over the screen. "However, with a property that size and the specifications you've outlined for the facility... if everything proceeds smoothly, we're looking at five to eight years for completion."
Smith's jaw tightened. Five to eight years. In that time, Thanos could collect half the Infinity Stones. The world could end three times over.
"No," he said flatly. "That timeline is unacceptable."
Fox waited, accustomed to his rapid shifts in planning.
"Contact construction companies in China," Smith continued, his mind already calculating logistics. "Their infrastructure crews, the ones building entire cities in months. And reach out to the top ten American construction firms. Money isn't an issue, but I have one non-negotiable requirement: twenty-four-hour construction. Three shifts, rotating crews, constant progress."
He leaned forward, his assassin's focus narrowing to a single point. "Work with local government to handle permits, noise variances, whatever bureaucratic obstacles come up. Pay whatever bribes or fees are necessary. I want that base operational in twelve months."
Fox's expression remained neutral, but Smith caught the slight widening of her eyes. "If we maintain that pace, the construction costs could increase by a factor of ten. Possibly more."
Smith waved a dismissive hand. "The Chinese crews will handle the primary work, their speed is beyond anything American companies can match. I'd give them the entire project if it wouldn't raise questions." He met Fox's gaze. "The U.S. firms will serve as a front and handle specialized work. But that facility needs to be under construction every hour of every day. Make it happen."
"Understood." Fox's fingers flew across her tablet. "I'll begin negotiations immediately."
A practical concern surfaced in Smith's mind. "Do we have the capital?"
Fox allowed herself a small smile. "Between the High Table's assets, the Hand's holdings, and Kingpin's empire..." She pulled up a financial summary on her tablet and turned it so Smith could see the numbers. "We have more than enough. Even with the accelerated timeline, we could build three such facilities without significant strain on our resources."
Relief flickered through Smith's chest, though he kept his expression impassive. Going bankrupt while building a secret assassin headquarters would be a humiliating way to fail before the real threats even emerged.
Across the office, Melina and Alexei had been listening with barely concealed interest. The talk of massive construction projects and round-the-clock work schedules stirred memories of the old Soviet Union's ambitious building programs. Melina caught Alexei's eye and saw her own thoughts reflected there, perhaps the Fraternity had more in common with their old homeland than they'd initially believed.
Fox gathered her documents and gestured for the two Russians to follow. "Come. There are many procedures to complete before you're fully integrated into the Fraternity. Understanding our philosophy is paramount."
As the door closed behind them, Natasha finally moved, taking a few steps closer to Smith's desk. A smile played at the corners of her mouth, professional, measured, giving nothing away.
"So, boss," she said, the new form of address rolling off her tongue with practiced ease. "What do you need me to do?"
The shift in her demeanor wasn't lost on Smith. She'd made her choice and committed to it with the same totality she brought to every role she played. Whether this was genuine loyalty or simply her next deep cover assignment, time would tell.
"Tell me, Natasha," he said, leaning back in his chair. "What do you know about the Fraternity's creed?"
Natasha's expression grew thoughtful. She'd reviewed every scrap of intelligence SHIELD had compiled on the Fraternity during her preparation for this assignment. Most of it had been fragmented, reports from dead agents, intercepted communications, crime scene analysis. But certain phrases had appeared repeatedly.
"Nothing is true, everything is permitted," she recited. "We work in the dark to serve the light."
Smith nodded slowly, then rose from his chair. He moved to the window overlooking the training floor below, where new recruits practiced the curved-bullet technique that had become the Fraternity's signature.
"The foundation of civilization is more fragile than most people realize," he said, his voice taking on a quality Natasha had rarely heard, something almost philosophical, as if he were sharing a truth rather than delivering a speech. "We are the guardians of that foundation. Not the public guardians, not the celebrated heroes. We are the architects of our own actions, and we bear the full weight of their consequences. Glory and tragedy both."
He turned to face her, and energy began to coalesce in his palm, a sphere of rippling light that cast shifting shadows across his features. The technique looked similar to a ki blast from his Yamcha template, but there was something different about it, something that spoke to the Fraternity's deeper purpose.
"When people blindly follow so-called truth, remember, truth is a lie agreed upon. When people claim morality or law restricts their actions, remember, every restriction can be broken by those with sufficient will." The energy in his palm pulsed brighter. "We work in the dark to serve the light. We are assassins. Nothing is true. Everything is permitted."
The sphere dissipated in a cascade of fading light.
Natasha felt something shift in her understanding. The words were familiar, but hearing them explained this way, seeing the conviction in Smith's eyes, it gave them weight she hadn't expected. This wasn't just an assassin's justification for murder. This was a worldview, a framework for operating in the shadows while maintaining purpose.
"I told you once before," Smith continued, returning to his desk. "Justice must be achieved with our own hands, even if it means bloodshed. Even if the world condemns us for it."
Natasha nodded. She remembered that conversation, back when she'd still been reporting everything to Coulson. Back when she'd thought she understood what the Fraternity represented.
Smith's next question came without preamble. "What's your assessment of SHIELD?"
Natasha's mind accelerated, running through scenarios and implications. This was the real test. Smith was giving her an opportunity to prove where her loyalties now lay, but one wrong word could end with a bullet between her eyes.
She chose honesty, or at least, the honest assessment she'd been forming over her years in the intelligence game.
"SHIELD operates like every other spy agency," she said carefully. "Noble mission statement, dirty methods. They'll sacrifice anything and anyone to achieve their objectives. Trustworthiness isn't in their vocabulary."
She paused, thinking of Coulson, of Maria Hill, of the countless agents who genuinely believed they were protecting the world. "There are good people in SHIELD. Agents who truly want to serve justice. But they're trapped in a machine that uses them for purposes they don't fully understand. They think they're preventing disasters when sometimes they're causing them."
Her voice hardened slightly. "I'm done with SHIELD. But given my profile and what I know, I can't just resign. I'd have to fake my death to get clear of them."
The admission was genuine. Operation Odessa had shattered something in Natasha's perception of SHIELD. She'd watched Fury authorize the murder of children to preserve operational security. She'd seen Coulson justify it with appeals to the greater good. The Red Room and SHIELD, different flags, different rhetoric, same fundamental ruthlessness.
Smith studied her for a long moment, his enhanced perceptions reading micro-expressions, heart rate, the subtle chemical changes that accompanied deception. She was telling the truth, or believed she was. Good enough.
"I don't trust SHIELD," he said bluntly. "Especially not Nick Fury."
Natasha's surprise was genuine. Smith spoke with the certainty of someone with direct intelligence, but to her knowledge, he and Fury had never met. Then again, Coulson had been clear in his reports, the Fraternity's information network was extensive. They'd known about SHIELD's observation before Natasha had revealed herself. How many other SHIELD agents had already been identified? How deeply had the Fraternity infiltrated the intelligence community?
The implications sent a chill down her spine.
"Fury could become a threat to the world," Smith continued, his tone grave. "His secrets have secrets. His contingencies have contingencies. And when those layers collapse, and they will, the fallout could be catastrophic."
He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Natasha's. "I need you to stay with SHIELD. Maintain your cover. Keep your access. And watch them for me."
Natasha's breath caught. She'd expected to be pulled out, to be given a clean break from her old life. Instead, Smith was sending her back in, but this time as a double agent working against SHIELD rather than for them.
"Is there something specific?" she asked, her voice steady despite the weight of what he was asking. "A problem within SHIELD?"