Meanwhile
The conference room at SHIELD headquarters.
Nick Fury was standing.
Alexander Pierce was seated.
Between them, the screen displayed a frozen image: a hammer in the desert, surrounded by tents, floodlights, and agents who had not yet been deployed.
"Tell me again," Pierce said smoothly, "why I'm wasting my time on an internet video."
Fury didn't turn around.
"Because that video shows a SHIELD operation that hasn't happened yet," he replied. "With correct protocols. Correct positioning. And real personnel."
Pierce interlaced his fingers.
"And if it's a reenactment?"
"Then whoever made it has access to classified information."
Silence.
Pierce leaned forward slightly.
"How many people have seen it?"
"Dozens of thousands," Fury said. "And growing. It's not viral… yet. But it's persistent."
"And you can't take it down?"
Fury turned his head for the first time.
"No."
Pierce raised an eyebrow.
"Explain."
"We tried everything," Fury continued. "Internal reports. Legal channels. Direct pressure on the platform. The content doesn't come down. The channel doesn't respond to automated systems. It's like it just… slips."
Pierce smiled faintly.
"That sounds like technical incompetence."
"No," Fury said. "It sounds like someone who knew exactly how we'd react."
Pierce studied the screen.
"The public is treating it like a joke."
"For now," Fury replied. "But they're paying attention. And that's worse. People don't believe it… but they're watching."
Pierce stood and began to walk slowly.
"So what's your assessment, Nick?" he asked. "Real threat, or a clown with too much free time?"
Fury took a deep breath.
"No clown cuts a video at exactly the right moment to build anticipation. No prankster shows just enough to plant doubt. And none of them…" he paused, "…show SHIELD without trying to scare the public."
Pierce stopped.
"What do you suggest?"
"A soft countermeasure," Fury said. "Ridicule it. Make it look fake. Let people get bored."
"And if that doesn't work?"
Fury met his gaze.
"Then we're in real trouble."
Pierce nodded slowly.
"Nick… the world has always had people who claim to see the future. Prophets. Madmen. Artists."
He walked to the window.
"The difference now is social media."
Fury didn't return the smile.
"And some of them… are far too accurate."
Pierce turned back.
"Keep this contained," he ordered. "No public alarms. No excessive force. If it's a joke, it'll die on its own."
Fury nodded, unconvinced.
"And if it isn't?"
Pierce looked at him with calm danger.
"Then we'll find who's playing god…"
The meeting ended without handshakes.
---
In Queens, from his apartment, Eric knew nothing about Pierce.
He simply looked at the number one more time.
$10,000.00
He smiled.
"Well…" he murmured. "That was faster than I expected."
He hadn't expected the system to be so considerate.
Even after spending more than three straight hours editing, especially adding subtitles for multiple countries.
Ten thousand dollars was still a fortune to Eric.
He closed the laptop carefully, as if he didn't want to scare away the good streak, put on his jacket, and left the apartment.
The Queens air greeted him with its usual mix of noise, overlapping conversations, and arguments.
Two hours later…
He reached his parents' building.
Opened the door.
"I'm back!" he announced. "And no, I didn't do anything illegal."
"ERIC!" his mother shouted. "Don't say that as a greeting! You're over twenty, for God's sake."
Susana came running.
"Did you bring something?!"
She looked at her brother with expectation shining in her eyes.
Eric set the bags on the floor.
"Maybe."
She squealed like she'd won the lottery.
"NEW CLOTHES! SHOES! MOM, LOOK AT MY SHOES!"
She jumped. Spun. Tried things on over other things with zero logic.
His father watched him, serious.
"Where did all this come from?"
Eric scratched the back of his neck.
"Let's just say… yesterday was kind to me."
Silence.
Then his mother touched the coat, carefully.
"Eric… this wasn't necessary."
He looked at her.
"You gave me everything even when you couldn't afford it," he said. "Let me give a little back."
Susana climbed onto the couch in her new dress, arms spread wide.
"I'm a princess!"
Eric smiled, sitting on the floor.
"You always were."
He looked around.
The apartment. His family. The laughter.
The world could grow strange. The future could hurt.
But this… moment… was grounding.
And he would protect it at any cost.
"MY ROOM!" Susana shouted, carrying the pink mini-laptop like a sacred treasure. "NO ENTRY WITHOUT PERMISSION!"
The door closed with a decisive click that only a five-year-old could consider absolute authority.
Eric smiled without realizing it.
"Well," he said, amused, "I've officially been exiled from her tyrannical kingdom."
From the dining table, his parents didn't smile.
His father, Miguel Valerian, sat with arms crossed, studying the empty bags as if they were evidence of an unresolved crime.
His mother, Elena Valerian, carefully folded the new shirts, hers and her husband's, with excessive care.
"Son…" she said at last. "Sit down."
That tone.
Eric obeyed.
Miguel spoke first.
"Son," he said slowly, "this doesn't add up."
Eric sighed inwardly. He'd known this was coming the moment he walked in.
"Doesn't add up how?" Eric asked, keeping it light.
"All these clothes. Your sister's gifts," Miguel listed. "That costs money. A lot of it. And you don't work anywhere that pays like this… at least not yet."
Elena looked up at her son.
"We're not angry," she said gently. "We're worried."
Eric leaned his elbows on the table.
"I didn't do anything illegal," he said, sincerely… within narrative margins. "Really."
Miguel didn't answer right away.
"Then explain," he said. "Because people don't come home on a random Tuesday with ten shopping bags for no reason."
Eric scratched his neck, searching for the right angle of the lie.
"I worked for someone with a lot of money," he said.
Elena frowned.
"Doing what?"
"IT," he answered without hesitation. "Content analysis. Systems. Information organization. Nothing illegal. You don't need to worry."
Miguel stared at him.
"And they paid you like this… all at once?"
Eric nodded.
"Because she was satisfied," he added. "And because for her… it's not that much money."
Okay, that sounded bad, Eric thought, hoping his parents wouldn't jump to the wrong conclusions.
Silence.
From Susana's room came an excited shout:
"BROTHER, IT TURNS ON BY ITSELF!"
"DON'T TOUCH WEIRD SETTINGS!" Eric shot back on reflex.
Miguel sighed.
"Son… we don't want you getting into trouble because of us."
Eric lifted his gaze, serious now.
"I would never do anything that puts you at risk," he said firmly.
Elena watched him for a few seconds longer, as if searching for cracks.
She found none.
"Alright," she said at last. "But promise us one thing."
"Anything."
"If things get complicated.… you tell us."
Eric nodded.
"I promise."
Miguel stood and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Then enjoy the moment," he said. "Not every day does hard work show results this clearly."
Eric smiled, relieved.
From her room, Susana shouted again:
"I CAN WATCH CAT VIDEOS!"
"CAREFUL!" Eric replied instantly. "There's no coming back from that."
His parents finally smiled, though the concern never fully left.
Because parents always sense when something big is moving… even if they don't know what it is.
Eric stood, glanced at his sister's door, and thought:
For now… let them believe it's just luck.