"Clear. Three, two, one, go!"
"Thump!"
"Administer epinephrine. Pulse check?"
"Still no pulse."
After observing the situation, the doctor paused briefly before stating, "What time is it now?"
"1:03 a.m."
"Record it. Time of death: 1:03 a.m."
Steve Rogers, overwhelmed with anger and frustration, turned and stormed out of the room.
Fury's death at the hands of their enemy weighed heavily on him, and he was also consumed with concern about how he would now obtain the enhancement serum Fury had promised.
Glancing at the USB drive Fury had entrusted to him, Steve clenched his jaw in silent determination.
Maria Hill, equally shaken, turned and left the room.
Soon after, Fury's body was wheeled out. Natasha stood silently nearby, her expression somber and unreadable.
Hill approached her and said, "We need to take him."
Despite the grim situation, Steve felt compelled to speak up, "Hill, Nick Fury had promised me something—a dose of the enhancement serum from Charles's Agency. I know this isn't the right time to bring it up, but it's extremely important to me."
Hill froze for a moment, caught off guard by the request. Of all times, was now really the moment for this? Still, she trusted that Steve wouldn't lie about something so significant.
Hill replied, "I'm sorry, Captain. I wasn't aware of this promise, but I believe you."
"However, enhancement serums are tightly regulated. Only Nick Fury had clearance to access them before. Until a new director is appointed, I don't have the authority to retrieve it."
"This might take some time."
Steve nodded in acknowledgment, recognizing the unfortunate reality of the situation.
He then walked over to Natasha and said, "Natasha…"
Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, Natasha abruptly turned and left.
Seeing her leave, Steve hurried after her, calling out, "Natasha."
When she stopped, she turned to him and said, "Shouldn't you be more worried about your enhancement serum?"
"And why was Nick Fury even at your place?"
Steve shook his head, replying, "That serum is important to me, yes. But I don't know why he came to see me."
At that moment, Rumlow called out to Steve from behind, "Captain, they need you back at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters."
Steve turned to Rumlow and asked, "Right now?"
Rumlow emphasized, "They want you back immediately."
Steve looked at Rumlow in silence for two seconds before responding, "Alright."
Satisfied with the answer, Rumlow turned and left.
Natasha glanced at Steve and remarked, "You're really bad at lying."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Steve somewhat helpless. There were so many questions he hadn't had a chance to ask her.
At that moment, a voice crackled over Steve's radio, grabbing his attention.
"Strike team, escort Captain Rogers back to S.H.I.E.L.D. immediately."
Steve noticed the vending machine nearby, its door open as a worker restocked snacks. A sudden idea struck him—he now knew the perfect place to hide the USB drive.
After securing the USB, Steve walked over to Rumlow and the others, "Let's head out."
"Understood!"
Rumlow promptly issued the command, "Strike team, move out."
…
Coulson's Team-
Temporary Command Center aboard the Airbus-
Ward sat in the interrogation room as Fitz entered.
Ward glanced up and remarked, "I thought it would be Coulson."
Fitz placed a bottle of water in front of Ward and took a seat across from him, "Why did you do it?"
Ward met Fitz's gaze and replied, "I lost control. I was angry. I couldn't stand by and let my teammates get hurt again."
"We've been through life-and-death situations together."
Fitz nodded slowly, "Coulson said the mission was to take him alive—not to kill."
"Even though I don't agree with what you did, I still have to say... thank you."
Fitz acknowledged that while Ward's actions were against protocol and wrong by S.H.I.E.L.D. standards, they had nonetheless saved his life.
With that, Fitz left the room without lingering.
Ward leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable as he watched Fitz leave.
Fitz headed to Coulson's office, "Can I talk to you?"
Coulson looked up, "Is it about Ward?"
Fitz nodded, "Yes. It's hard to believe he killed someone so easily. It was against orders."
Coulson's expression darkened, "What worries me more is whether he killed the wrong person."
Fitz looked confused, "But wasn't Nash confirmed to be the Clairvoyant?"
Coulson shook his head, "How can we be sure? He never spoke. It was always the computer talking for him."
"How do we know he was controlling the computer?"
Fitz's brow furrowed, "You're saying Nash might've been pretending to be the Clairvoyant?"
Coulson leaned forward, his tone grave, "I'm saying Nash could've been a puppet."
"And now he's dead."
"The whole chain of events—one attack after another—led us right to him. The investigation was too clean, too convenient."
Fitz added thoughtfully, "Or maybe he's watching us. Or reading our files."
Coulson gave him a sharp look, "What do you mean?"
Fitz explained, "When you asked me to review the psychological assessments, you mentioned 'getting inside his head.'"
"So I started thinking. Ward said the Clairvoyant knew exactly how to push his buttons."
Coulson's eyes narrowed, "Raina did the same with me."
Fitz asked, "Did she bring up your father's death? Your psychological profile calls it a 'defining moment.'"
"These assessments aren't just personality tests. They're monitoring reports—photos, statuses, where agents are stationed, who they meet, even their favorite restaurants."
Realization dawned on Coulson, "Richmond diner... He's been watching us. Think about it—"
Fitz interjected, "The only thing he wouldn't know is what happened after you died."
Coulson's voice grew colder, "Because Fury didn't share that file with anyone."
"Oh my god."
"The Clairvoyant doesn't have psychic powers. He has security clearance. He's a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent."
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Coulson abruptly left the room.
Fitz, shocked by the revelation, hurried off to set up a secure line to Simmons.
…
Triskelion Headquarters (New)-
Steve Rogers returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and made his way to Alexander Pierce's office.
In the hallway, he spotted his nurse neighbor, Carter, reporting to Pierce.
Pierce reassured her, "You did your best. That's all anyone can ask."
Carter nodded apologetically, "Thank you, sir."
As Carter turned to leave, she noticed Steve approaching.
"Captain Rogers," she greeted.
Steve responded with a hint of sarcasm, "Neighbor."
He was clearly still irritated by the revelation that his "neighbor" had been assigned to monitor him under the guise of protection.
Pierce stepped forward, introducing himself, "Captain, I'm Alexander Pierce."
Steve shook his hand firmly, "Sir, it's an honor to meet you."
Pierce smiled warmly, "The honor is mine, Captain. My father served in the 101st Airborne. Come in, please."
Inside Pierce's office, Steve picked up a framed photograph of Pierce and Nick Fury.
Pierce explained, "That was taken five years after Nick and I first met. I was at the State Department in Colombia at the time."
"When guerrillas seized the embassy, the guards managed to get me out, but the rebels took hostages."
"Nick was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s operative in the region. He proposed a plan—to infiltrate through the sewers."
"I told him no. We'd negotiate."
"But the rebels didn't negotiate. They ordered an execution."
"Nick disobeyed my direct orders, launched the operation, and saved the hostages—along with my daughter."
Steve looked at Pierce, "So you promoted him?"
Pierce nodded, "I've never regretted that decision."
The story subtly emphasized Pierce's connection to and trust in Fury.
Pierce then turned the conversation back to Steve, "Captain, why was Nick at your apartment last night?"
Steve shook his head, "I don't know."
Pierce pressed on, "Did you know your apartment was bugged?"
Steve nodded, "Yes, Nick told me."
Pierce's tone grew sharper, "Did he tell you he was the one bugging it?"
Steve froze, momentarily stunned. Fury truly trusted no one.
Pierce, noting Steve's silence, moved to a virtual screen and said, "Let me show you something."
He activated the screen, playing a video of an interrogation.