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"He was definitely doing it on purpose, Tony," Natasha's voice was cold.
"That's narrative control. If he had acted right away, it would just be 'Homelander and Iron Man team up to thwart a conspiracy.' But now..."
She pointed at the screen.
"...the current story is: Iron Man suffers a crushing defeat, the Avengers are absent. And Homelander, when all the heroes have failed, descends from the sky and alone saves the President, saves the nation."
"Fuck..." Tony slammed his fist on the bar.
"He's just a show‑off bastard!"
"Calm down, Tony," Steve's voice was deep and powerful as he stood and walked over to Tony.
"Anyway, he saved your life."
Steve stared at the figure on the screen standing shoulder‑to‑shoulder with the President, basking in the flashbulbs, his eyes full of mixed emotions.
Tony Stark suddenly fell silent.
He watched the screen, the fire in his eyes gradually cooling.
"...Jarvis."
"At your service, sir."
"Get me a ticket."
"What ticket?" Steve asked, confused, turning his head.
"'homelander: origin.'" A bitter grin spread across Tony's face.
"Premiere. I fucking want to see just how spectacular this bastard's 'origin' really is."
...helicarrier, command deck.
Nick Fury stood before a massive viewport, hands behind his back, overlooking the land below.
He had been standing there, motionless, for an hour.
Maria Hill entered, her footsteps echoing sharply across the empty bridge.
"Officer."
"Speak." Fury did not turn.
"Starr Group's market cap surged 45% overnight," Hill said flatly, merely stating the facts.
"Congress is drafting a bill to reallocate a portion of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s budget on domestic super‑human threats to Vought International as an outsourced government service."
"Ha." Fury let out a contemptuous snort.
"Outsource? They call that... outsourcing?"
"Officer, that makes no sense," Hill forced back anger.
"We are a globally‑mandated agency by the Security Council! How dare President Ellis..."
"Why doesn't he dare?" Fury finally turned, his single eye flashing cold steel in the shadows.
"Hill, tell me, what were our intel agencies doing when air force one was hijacked last night?"
"I... we were analyzing The Mandarin's movements..."
Fury cut her off, voice icy.
"You're chasing some fucking third‑rate actor living in Pakistan!"
He punched the glass hard.
"The President's plane was hijacked, Hill! air force one! It had nuclear launch codes on board! And we're fucking clueless in Florida!"
He turned, the Fury in his lone eye nearly exploding.
"We spent trillions building this flying carrier. We have the Insight Project, we have the Avengers. And what? The United States President needs some lone contractor draped in a Stars‑and‑Stripes cape to save the day?"
"Officer, our intel flow really did go off the rails..."
"Problem?" Fury sneered.
"No, Hill, that isn't a problem. It's not a lag in intel, nor a communication breakdown."
He walked to the viewport, watching the rolling clouds below.
"This is a… betrayal."
Hill's heart tightened: "Officer? You mean the Vice President..."
"I'm not talking about that idiot about to be tried by a military tribunal," Fury's voice dropped to a terrifying low.
"I'm talking about… my house."
"Officer?"
"My house has rats, Hill. Big, fat, fucking good at hiding rats."
Countless thoughts flashed through Fury's mind.
Why was tracking "The Mandarin's" actions proceeding so "smoothly"?
Why did Killian's moves not trigger a single red dot in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s system?
Why… when he tried to mobilize rapid‑response forces, the system always "delayed"?
"We've been played," Fury said.
"Someone inside is steering our vision, treating us like monkeys."
"You suspect there's a… mole inside?"
"I suspect? No, I'm certain now." Fury turned.
"Since the Battle of New York, everything's been too coincidental. Stark was attacked, we lagged a step. The President was kidnapped, and we went completely blind."
"And Homelander," Fury's one eye narrowed, "how does he know? The Starr Group's private intel net? Stop kidding yourself. He's not just faster than us… he never walked our path."
Fury took a deep breath.
"That blond bastard is now the President's lifesaver. He's obtained federal enforcement clearance. He's turned superheroes into a damn business and wants to legalize it."
"He… he bypassed us." Hill finally grasped the gravity of the problem.
"He didn't just bypass us; he stepped on our faces and leapt over." Fury's tone was laced with frustration.
"And we can't even trip him up because our own legs… have been broken from the inside."
"Hill, activate the 'Ghost Protocol.' From now on, besides you, I trust no one."
"Officer… you mean…"
"Yes." Fury's lone eye glittered coldly.
"I need to know how many people on this ship… when they salute me, are silently chanting 'Hail HYDRA.'"
..."…Hail HYDRA."
Alexander Pierce turned off the tiny bug on his desk, a nonchalant smile on his face.
"Nick… Nick… you're always that sharp," he muttered.
"Too bad, it's too late now."
The office door slid open silently.
Brock Rumlow, Captain of the "Assault Team," entered with a cold stare, followed by a trembling Jasper Sitwell.
"Officer," Rumlow said succinctly.
"Brock, Jasper, relax." Pierce gestured to the sofa opposite.
"Coffee? Or… shall we talk about our 'Blonde Sweetheart'?"
Sitwell wiped sweat nervously: "Officer… Fury… he seems to be suspecting. He's started the highest‑level internal audit."
"Let him investigate," Pierce smiled indifferently, pouring himself a Scotch.
"Nick is chasing ghosts, thinking he's catching rats. He doesn't realize he's the one inside the rat cage."
He looked at Rumlow: "What I'm more concerned about is that uninvited guest."
Rumlow's expression turned savage: "Homelander. Fuck, I saw the footage from Florida… that wasn't a fight, it was a slaughter. His two Heat Vision beams… our Winter Soldier can't take that."