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"Where's Fury?" Steve asked.
"I'm here."
From the shadows, the man in the black trench coat and eyepatch stepped out.
Nick Fury looked gloomier than ever; the single eye was blood-shot.
"Unbelievable." He slammed a stack of papers on the table.
"Those bastards even froze my backup account in the Caymans!"
Steve Rogers didn't look up.
"I thought the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't supposed to have secret offshore accounts."
"It's emergency money!" Fury jabbed at the newspaper headline—his one-eyed photo under the banner "S.H.I.E.L.D. Rat: Nick Fury's Ten-Billion-Dollar Graft Empire."
"That son-of-a-bitch Pierce didn't just try to kill me; he wants my name to rot. Now every drop of filth is landing on me. Those captured HYDRA Agents? Their statements are magically identical—'Director Fury ordered us.'"
"Me? Corrupt? I file expense reports for every eyepatch! Now I'm an invisible tycoon with twelve private islands? Motherf— If I owned those islands I'd be tanning in the Bahamas, not drinking instant coffee in this moldy hole!"
In the corner, Clint Barton adjusting arrowheads couldn't stifle a laugh; Fury's glare shut him up.
"Not funny, Barton."
"Sorry, boss." Barton shrugged. "Just remembered my wife's pregnant."
Fury turned to Steve, who'd stayed silent.
"Listen, Captain. We need to hit back. Public opinion's one-sided, but I've still got a card."
"What card?"
"You." Fury pointed. "You're Captain America. Pierce tried smearing you—nobody bought it. After you signed with Vought, even President Ellis publicly backs you."
"You step up," Fury leaned closer, "stand in front of the cameras and tell the World: 'Nick Fury is innocent; I trust him.' The tide turns."
"And if I don't?"
Steve finally lifted his gaze—no fervor, only calm that chilled.
Fury blinked, eye narrowing. "Say what?"
"I said no."
Steve set down the shield and stood.
"I won't vouch for you, Nick."
"Why?" Fury's voice rose.
"We're comrades! We fought aliens together! You know who I am!"
"Do I?"
Steve stared straight into the single eye, unwavering.
"Do I know you, Nick?"
"Seconds ago you were whining about those secret accounts. Was that money really for emergencies—or for some 'Phase-Two, Phase-Three' weapons I've never heard of?"
Fury opened his mouth; Steve cut him off.
"You always give me a third of the truth. You've got so many secrets you probably can't remember which parts are real and which are lies."
Steve stepped in; they stood twenty centimeters apart.
"Maybe Pierce is lying—but can you look me in the eye and swear you never touched public funds for… dirty work?"
Fury stayed silent.
Because he had—done plenty of dirty things to protect Earth(In name of Protecting Earth).
"See." Steve backed away, disappointment flashing.
"That's the problem."
"I can't stake my reputation on someone I can't see through. It would betray the people who trust me."
"If you want to prove you're clean…"
Steve hoisted the shield onto his back.
"…do it with actions. Like a man, not by hiding behind PR."
The bunker sank into dead silence.
Natasha sat on the table, legs swinging, watching the two men face off, a smile tugging at her lips.
She knew—this was Captain America: stubborn as bedrock, and that's why he was the Captain.
A long while passed.
"Hoo…"
Fury exhaled, as though venting every pent-up frustration.
He straightened his collar, regaining the cold bearing of the spy king.
"All right. You're right, old-timer."
Fury strode to the tactical map and jabbed a finger at Washington, D.C.
"If PR's dead, we go old-school—coup."
All eyes converged.
"Pierce wants to play dirty, fine. But he forgot one thing…"
Fury's lone eye glinted dangerously. "…today's S.H.I.E.L.D. was built by me."
"Every brick, every camera, every air duct—I know better than he does."
"And the hearts of its people."
Fury looked to Barton.
"Barton, with me. We infiltrate the Triskelion."
"Just us two?" Barton raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a suicide run."
"No." Fury smirked. "We seize S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal comms. I'll tell every Agent still in that building exactly what Pierce is. I'll wake the blind ones and show them where to point their guns."
"As for you…"
Fury popped open a high-tech suitcase; a holographic map blossomed.
His finger slid across it, locking onto a covert site in Virginia.
"My inside source just sent fresh intel."
"That bastard Pierce, to guarantee his plan, kidnapped four World Security Council members."
"He dragged them here; he intends to give them forced 'Neuro-Repatterning'—in other words, brainwashing."
A blurry photo appeared on-screen.
Three bulky men were escorting hooded hostages into a building.
One of the men had a gleaming metal arm.
Steve shot to his feet; the chair clattered backward.
"Winter Soldier?!"
"Exactly." Fury met Steve's gaze. "And there's more than one."
"They slept decades in cryo. Now Pierce has thawed them out."
"But the good news," Fury explained, "most of the newly awakened Winter Soldiers are mentally unstable—can't even follow complex commands. Pierce had to stuff them back into cold storage."
"So only three are viable."
Fury raised three fingers.
"Three super-soldiers. One of them is your old pal—Bucky."