The Battle of New York drew to a close.
Since the most intense battles were almost entirely handled by the villainesses under Su Modie, the founding members of the Avengers didn't suffer any particularly severe physical trauma—
Except for Thor and Banner, who were mind-controlled and subsequently thrashed on the ground by the villainesses.
After a brief rest at S.H.I.E.L.D. to change out of their tattered suits and into civilian clothes, everyone donned solemn black attire and drove to this quiet National Cemetery.
The event they were attending was none other than Makima's funeral.
The setting sun was as red as blood, and the cold wind whistled.
Clad in black trench coats, the group gathered around a brand-new tombstone.
At the bottom of a deep pit lay a dark red solid wood coffin, yet to be covered with earth.
Fury stood expressionless at the very front of the crowd.
On the lawn directly in front of him, a white-haired priest with a compassionate expression held a Bible, loudly reciting the eulogy in a long, emotional aria: "Sister Makima was a woman as pure and kind as an Angel..."
"Her whole life was a silent dedication to protecting the weak and for World peace. She was always the first to lend a helping hand when her colleagues faced difficulties, warming every cold corner of S.H.I.E.L.D. with her gentle, spring-like nature..."
"She will forever guide us on the path ahead..."
To Fury's left stood Tony, a bandage still on his cheek and a solemn look on his face, while to his right was Agent Hill, her expression as still as water.
This was also why Makima had replaced Hill as the temporary adjutant at the Security Council meeting—because during those few chaotic hours, Hill had been busy helping Makima prepare for this damn funeral!
After all, Makima couldn't very well order her own coffin, write her own eulogy, pick her own burial plot, and then send out invitations for Tony and the others to come and weep, could she?
That scene would have been far too eerie...
Listening to the priest's increasingly outrageous praise, Hill felt an indescribable sense of weirdness. She turned her head and exchanged a complex look with Fury, her eyes seemingly carrying a hint of blame for the Director's terrible idea.
The guilt of this joint deception grew even stronger, especially when she saw the genuine grief of those around her who were in the dark.
Behind the first row stood Coulson, Natasha, Barton, and Steve, who was wearing an old-fashioned black suit.
Each of them kept their heads slightly bowed, their expressions filled with sorrow.
Especially Coulson; the usually smiling "nice guy" now had bloodshot eyes, and tears he couldn't hold back shimmered in them.
As Agents with only Level 7 clearance, they truly believed that the red-haired junior who was always soft-spoken, served them coffee on the carrier, chatted about daily life, and shared work experiences had met an untimely end, dying tragically under Loki's schemes.
Coulson still had a lot of affection for Makima. They had worked together for a long time at the Joint Dark Energy Action Base researching the Tesseract. Coulson thought highly of Makima as a junior, seeing her as a rising star of S.H.I.E.L.D., but now...
Everything could only be summed up in Coulson's sigh.
Beside them stood an out-of-place figure—Reze.
Yes, Reze had also been inexplicably dragged here by Tony.
Reze hadn't wanted to come at all, not to mention that she and Makima never got along in the first place...
More importantly, she knew full well that the person in the coffin was not only alive and well, but likely sitting comfortably in a high-level S.H.I.E.L.D. office right now, drinking coffee brewed by a subordinate and plotting how to keep playing people!
Why would she come to a funeral for a living person? Was she looking for trouble?!
Besides, even if Makima were truly dead, Reze wouldn't mourn her!
But at the time, Tony had dropped his usual cynical and playful demeanor, speaking to her with an unprecedented sincerity, even a hint of pleading.
"Reze, come on. If Makima can see you from heaven coming to see her off one last time, she'll surely be comforted."
Reze almost spat out a mouthful of blood then and there.
Comforted, my foot!
If that pink-haired, black-hearted devil knew I was bowing before her coffin, she'd probably laugh at me for a whole year!
The Makima in Reze's imagination be like: Jie jie jie jie!
However, seeing Tony so tormented by guilt, Reze didn't know how to explain the intricacies to him. In the end, she could only roll her eyes helplessly and let herself be dragged along.
One could only say that Makima's skill in manipulating hearts was simply on another level...
The actually amused Makima be like:
Now, wearing an inappropriate black hoodie with her hands in her pockets, Reze looked at the Avengers and Agents around her sincerely mourning Makima, feeling like there were needles in her back...
Despite her superb acting skills, she felt uncomfortable all over. She could only force her gaze onto her canvas shoes, trying her best to look "so grief-stricken she couldn't bear to look."
Further back.
On the outskirts of the crowd stood some low-to-mid-level S.H.I.E.L.D. employees who considered themselves on good terms with Makima or had received her "favors," such as the bald Agent Sitwell, who was currently bowing his large bald head low...
Of course, as a member of HYDRA and Makima's dog, he naturally knew she hadn't died in the line of duty. But he was a special case; most ordinary employees truly believed she had, like Mr. Harold.
This usually stern, even somewhat rigid middle-aged man was now sobbing softly while dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief, clutching a leash in his hand. At the other end of the leash was a beautiful and clever black-and-white Border Collie.
The dog sat obediently at Harold's feet, completely failing to understand why the humans around it were so sad.
It just looked around confusedly with its clear eyes, then got distracted by a raven on a huge oak tree in the distance.
At the very edge of the cemetery, two figures were hiding stealthily.
Thor was currently like a child punished for doing something wrong. He had learned from Natasha that the gentle female Agent everyone was mourning was the very one he, while mind-controlled, had "hammered to death" on the Helicarrier.
This caused the normally proud and honor-bound Thor to feel a suffocating sense of guilt.
He even prayed silently in his heart.
Hoping Odin would make an exception and allow this poor Midgardian woman into Valhalla to rest in peace—though even if the doors of Valhalla did open, they would surely be baffled, as they would never find this lady's soul anywhere.
Thor didn't dare walk to the front of the crowd, much less face that coffin.
He was so uncomfortable that he alternated between leaning his hand against the rough tree trunk and pressing his back tightly against it.
Fidgeting and scratching his head, he was like a man on pins and needles.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, pal..."
Standing beside him, Bruce Banner felt bad seeing Thor like this. He too was wearing a somewhat ill-fitting black suit and reached out to gently pat Thor's broad shoulder.
Banner looked at Coulson's grieving back in the distant crowd, a flicker of deep pain and helplessness crossing his eyes.
In truth, was he not harboring the same thoughts?
These words were not just to comfort Thor, but also for Banner himself. Although he hadn't personally killed Makima, the indiscriminate destruction he caused as the Hulk on the carrier and the streets of New York left him burdened with an irredeemable sense of guilt.
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