After Steve left, Director Nick Fury stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, the city's skyscrapers outside seeming to freeze into lifeless statues. He remained there for a long time—until, at last, he issued a command to the artificial intelligence within the room.
"Seal the office."
After observing Steve for some time, Fury had come to a clear conclusion: Steve Rogers was too upright—upright to the point of stubbornness, rigidity, even old-fashioned naïveté.
And yet, Fury couldn't deny it—Steve's worries and opposition came from a place of genuine concern for the public.
If even Captain America opposed the Insight Project, then the plan had to contain flaws. Fury decided to investigate personally.
He inserted the data drive Natasha had recovered from the launch vessel into the terminal and issued another command.
"Open the launch files for the Lemurian Star satellites."
After several seconds of decryption, the AI responded:
"Access denied."
"Decrypt the files."
Fury wasn't surprised. Classified files having layers of encryption was normal.
"Decryption failed."
"Director override. Authorization: Nick Fury."
The second failure made Fury frown. He escalated his clearance.
"Override denied. All files sealed."
"Who authorized this?"
"Nick Fury."
Fury froze.
When had he ever created files that even he couldn't access?
Something was very, very wrong.
Only then did Fury fully realize the truth: S.H.I.E.L.D. had an internal mole—someone with backend-level access. And that meant the real purpose of the Insight Project went far beyond mere crime prevention.
He didn't yet know what the enemy's ultimate goal was, but halting the launch of the Lemurian Star satellites and delaying Insight was the safest way to stall whatever conspiracy was unfolding.
The problem was, the Insight Project had been authorized by the World Security Council. Fury didn't have the authority to suspend it on his own.
So he turned to an old friend—Alexander Pierce, now serving as U.S. Secretary of State—to help convene a hearing.
-----
The World Security Council, whose primary role was to oversee S.H.I.E.L.D., had long been dissatisfied. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s repeated disasters had left them irritable and impatient. Through holographic projections, council members argued over one another, the chamber descending into chaos.
By the time Fury reached the top level of the Triskelion, the council was already debating the hijacking of the launch vessel—once again placing the blame squarely on S.H.I.E.L.D.
The result was predictable: dissatisfaction, demands for accountability, even calls for impeachment.
As the organizer of the hearing, Secretary Pierce played the role of a genial mediator, trying to calm the council and redirect the discussion. His efforts, however, weren't particularly effective.
Seizing the opportunity when Fury arrived, Pierce slipped away from the noisy chamber.
"I'm only forty floors below you," Pierce said dryly. "Yet you only visit when there's a crisis."
"I'd come for a nuclear war too," Fury replied. "You busy?" He glanced toward the glass wall separating them from the arguing council.
"There's nothing a special budget can't fix."
After brief pleasantries, Fury got to the point.
"Pierce, I need a favor. We need to initiate a vote. The Insight Project must be delayed."
Pierce's expression hardened instantly.
"Nicholas, that's not a small favor. That requires a hearing—and a long one."
He needed a reason. A justification strong enough to convince the council.
Fury gave him one.
"Let's just say I have… concerns. I need time to verify something. And frankly, we should be grateful the Helicarriers haven't launched yet."
Pierce understood immediately. There were flaws in Insight—possibly an internal breach. Fury needed time to investigate.
"I understand," Pierce said. "I'll handle it. But in return, you'll have Iron Man attend my nephew's birthday party. He needs to stay and entertain the kids—not just do a fly-by."
Fury internally recoiled.
He knew Tony Stark well enough. Tony liked attention—but being ordered to show up? That was a guaranteed refusal.
Still, when you asked someone for help, you couldn't reject every request.
Fury would find a way to persuade Stark.
-----
After leaving Peggy Carter's care facility, Steve—having nowhere else to go—headed to the Veterans Affairs Center.
Earlier that morning, he'd met Sam Wilson, a former pararescue airman now working there.
When Steve arrived, Sam was in the middle of a session. His students were all veterans.
Contrary to popular belief, being a veteran wasn't glamorous.
After years of operating in environments far beyond civilian imagination, soldiers carried battlefield instincts back into daily life—often with devastating consequences.
One young woman, clearly seasoned despite her age, was recounting her experience: she'd been pulled over for suspected drunk driving after swerving to avoid a black plastic bag in the road—because she'd thought it was a bomb.
On the battlefield, explosives could be disguised as anything. Constant vigilance was survival.
In civilian life, it looked like paranoia.
"Some things stay on the battlefield," Sam said calmly. "Others come home with us. Whether we pack them into a suitcase… or a small wallet—that choice is ours."
Steve waited respectfully until the session ended. Sam's closing words struck a deep chord.
They were the same.
Sam welcomed Steve warmly, surprised he'd come so soon.
"The last few minutes of your talk were heavy," Steve remarked.
"Yeah. Guilt. Regret. We all carry it."
"Did you lose someone?" Steve asked quietly. He saw himself in Sam—especially after losing Bucky.
"My partner, Riley," Sam said. "Standard night op. We'd done it a hundred times. Then a rocket hit his chute. I watched him fall—and there was nothing I could do. After that… I didn't see the point in staying."
"Are you happier here?"
"Almost no one gives me orders anymore," Sam said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "So yeah."
"Have you ever thought about retiring?" Sam asked.
"For a few days," Steve admitted.
"And after that? What would you do?"
"How about being a comic artist?"
Sam laughed. "That's a good one. My nephew's obsessed with comics—used to want to be Superman. Now he worships Iron Man."
"Stark has that effect," Steve said with a faint smile. "Kids love him."
"Funny choice for you. Doesn't exactly match your image."
"A friend suggested it. I can draw. She said I'd make a good comic artist—or an art teacher."
"She?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Someone special?"
"Don't get ideas. Clara's only fourteen. No parents—but she's always smiling."
"She's had a big impact on you."
"In some ways… she handles life better than I do," Steve admitted. "She's coming to Washington for a couple of days. Any suggestions?"
"The White House, the Washington Monument—must-sees. And you can take her to the Smithsonian and get a photo with Captain America!"
"That won't be necessary," Steve chuckled. "She's already taken a picture with the Captain America at the New York branch."
Taking a photo with himself still felt… deeply strange.
--------------
T/N:
Access Advance Chapters on my
P@treon: [email protected]/PokePals