Coulson: "I've run into a complete idiot."
Nick Fury: "Get inside, now. I've got a hundred ways to make him admit he's a ladyboy."
At Nick Fury's signal, Coulson shoved the door open and pinned the ladyboy to the floor.
"You guys—mmph, mmph!"
Nick Fury shut the door behind them and shot a vicious glare at the homeless man outside, scaring him into running off.
"Now," Fury said coldly, "tell us about this photo and video."
After asking, Coulson ripped the tape off the woman's mouth.
"You're discriminating against my gender! Even if you're Captain America, I'll sue you for gender discrimination, racial discrimination, and freedom discrimination!"
Coulson covered his ears and stepped back, distancing himself from this creature of indeterminate gender.
Nick Fury walked over with a dark expression. Looking at the shrieking person, he slapped them twice—hard.
"You—!"
Before the gender-confused individual could say anything else, Fury followed up with a series of flying kicks.
Finally, he grabbed the head of what might've been an Apache attack helicopter in a past life and snarled:
"Talk. Where was this video filmed?"
Bleeding from the corner of her mouth, the woman finally broke.
"I—I am a woman! You're beating a woman! I'm going to sue you for discrimination against women!"
Nick Fury: (̿▀beneficial▀ ̿‧̣̥̇)̄
"Motherf*cker!"
At death's door, the woman finally answered.
"This… this is a story about a big truck and a small truck."
…
Nick Fury didn't get a real answer. With a dark expression, he left to check on Coulson's progress.
Unfortunately, Coulson had no gains either. They returned empty-handed.
Thankfully, after news spread that the "little fairy" witness had died, the remaining witnesses became extremely cooperative.
Coulson began organizing the intelligence, filtering truth from bullshit.
After all, some people always say extra nonsense when they're high.
For example, one witness claimed Captain America had four arms.
Another said Captain America could control ice.
That one… might actually be true. Coulson reserved judgment.
Perhaps Captain America learned ice magic at the last moment and sealed himself in ice to await the future.
"Director, it's now confirmed that the intelligence about Captain America's remains is real. We must rescue him immediately. We can't let his great body remain in the hands of traitors."
"Otherwise, if the Captain is deceived, it could lead to an unpredictable disaster for the United States."
Nick Fury sat calmly like an old fisherman, scrolling through information with steady focus.
Seeing this, Coulson couldn't help but admire the Director's composure. Even now, Fury was still Fury—steady as an old dog.
Nick Fury's fingers continued scrolling through an elderly dating site, searching for "old, very old, even older women."
Since Coulson had his back to the screen, he assumed the Director was reviewing intelligence.
At that moment, Fury found a particularly eye-catching profile:
Age: 56
Weight: 300 kg
Description: Slightly plump, picks one lucky viewer daily
He bookmarked the "slightly plump little fairy" and said calmly:
"Coulson, we are agents. Endurance is our specialty. Calmness is our trait. Stability is our essence."
"So go analyze everything carefully. Then reflect on the logical loopholes in your conclusions."
"And calm your restless heart after seeing Captain America. Look carefully for inconsistencies."
Under the gaze of Fury's single eye, Coulson lowered his head in shame.
"Yes, Director. I'll analyze it thoroughly."
"Mhm. Go think it over. I also need to prepare our next step."
Nick Fury glanced again at the location of the 56-year-old, 300-kilogram "fairy." He sensed there would be… gains.
Watching the Director's broad back, Coulson felt endless regret for his impulsiveness.
While Nick Fury was drowning in dreams of dark, greasy flesh, Coulson found a breakthrough.
"This is wrong. The truck driver was staged—he crashed straight into the convoy."
Rewatching the footage, Coulson frowned.
"On an urban road like that, why was the truck speeding?"
"And the security for transporting Captain America was far too weak. How could the stasis pod fly out so easily?"
"This doesn't match their operational style. They're always meticulous. There's no way they'd use such a crude transport."
Coulson tried calling the Director repeatedly—but no answer.
Nick Fury had muted his phone again, burying himself in dark, oily comfort.
"Dear, is it really okay not to answer the phone? It sounds important."
A voice came from within the mountain of dark flesh—no head in sight.
Nick Fury chuckled lazily.
"It's fine. Leaders are always busy. Not answering is a test for subordinates."
"Besides, if they can't solve problems without me, why do I even need them?"
"Dear… let's go one more round."
The fat Black woman pinched him flirtatiously.
"You little devil."
Nick Fury grinned.
"I'm not a little devil. I'm a lustful devil. Jie jie jie—"
Meanwhile, Sitwell was digging a trap for Captain America's teammates.
He needed to sacrifice the ordinary S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel while safely releasing the high-level agents—no easy task.
"Reduce manpower over there."
"Add more anti-blast machine guns there."
"You bastards in the corner—stop slacking. I can see you."
After exhausting effort, Sitwell sighed, finishing the ambush site and waiting for those S.H.I.E.L.D. dogs to arrive.
A few hours later, just as Coulson was about to inform Maria Hill that the Director had gone missing again—
The number labeled Black Watcher finally called.
"Coulson, what is it?"
Coulson: "Director, you finally called back. I thought something happened to you again."
Nick Fury: "I'm fine. I was meeting with undercover operatives and obtained some intelligence."
Coulson: "As expected of the Director—still maintaining informants inside heavily guarded S.H.I.E.L.D."
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