Chapter 914

What the hell had they been talking about?

Coulson sat at the table, looking thoroughly miserable.

He’d hoped to learn something useful by listening to Evenson and Melinda’s conversation. Instead, the moment they started speaking, the two had launched into a rapid exchange of completely unintelligible sounds.

He hadn’t understood a single word.

Forget extracting useful intelligence. He couldn’t even identify the language with any confidence.

It was an excellent reminder of the importance of learning foreign languages. It was also a reminder that SHIELD’s secrets weren’t easily uncovered by outsiders.

But Coulson wasn’t about to surrender over something as trivial as a language barrier.

He was a trained agent, after all.

Having worked with Melinda for years, he suspected the language they’d used was Chinese. He hadn’t understood the meaning, but his memory was good enough to retain a rough approximation of the sounds.

All he needed now was a translation.

Three books lay open in front of him.

An Introduction to Mandarin Chinese.

A Chinese-English Dictionary.

How to Use a Dictionary.

Coulson took a deep breath and buried himself in the books.

He was putting all his hopes into those three volumes.

"Have you figured it out yet?"

Some time later, Skye sat down across from him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Fitz had already removed the mechanical exoskeleton, leaving her free to move normally again.

Coulson looked up.

"Not yet. I’ve found plenty of words that sound similar to what I remember, but none of them make any sense. When I put them together, the results are complete nonsense."

He closed the dictionary with a frustrated sigh.

"So either they were using some kind of coded language, or..." He paused. "China has more than one language."

"Well, it’s the world’s most populous unified multinational country and one of the oldest civilizations. Having several languages isn’t exactly surprising."

Skye shrugged.

"Why don’t I write a program? You can repeat the sounds you remember, and I’ll have the computer search for possible matches. It’ll be faster than watching you destroy your eyesight with those books."

"Please don’t."

Coulson rubbed his temples.

"I can remember how the words sounded, but there’s no way I can reproduce them accurately. I’d have an easier time cutting out my tongue."

He glanced at her.

"Anyway, how are you feeling now that the exoskeleton’s gone?"

"Hmm..."

Skye pursed her lips and picked up her coffee.

"Honestly, I don’t feel much different. When I was wearing it, the machinery felt like a natural extension of my body. The only thing I’ve noticed is that I’m a little weaker without its assistance. I’ll get used to it."

She took a sip before looking at him again.

"Why don’t you just ask Melinda? She might tell you."

BANG!

Coulson suddenly slammed his palm against the table.

For a moment, he looked genuinely angry. But the anger quickly faded into a long, weary sigh.

"There’s no point. If she were willing to tell me, she wouldn’t have kept it secret for so long."

"Maybe she’s keeping quiet to protect you."

Skye gave him a thoughtful look.

She felt it was worth offering her adoptive father some advice about his relationship with Melinda.

"Why not try talking to her? Just sit down and have an honest conversation."

"It’s not that simple."

Coulson managed a faint smile.

"She’s probably following direct orders from the director. And whatever those orders involve, it’s pretty clear I’m not supposed to know about them."

He shook his head.

"This isn’t about trust or personal feelings. It’s about protocol."

"Thank you for understanding my position."

Heavy footsteps interrupted their conversation.

Melinda approached, wearing her newly acquired armor. She carried a printed sheet of paper in one hand and a bag in the other.

Evenson had finally delivered the last dose of her enhancement formula, and he’d also kept his promise to provide her with the armor.

Unfortunately, the enormous sword they’d originally discussed hadn’t arrived.

The promised weapon—a massive, oversized blade—was nowhere to be found. Melinda had therefore settled for acquiring a suitably large cleaver of her own.

Skye tilted her head, eyeing the paper in Melinda’s hand.

"What are you reading? Another set of orders?"

"This?"

Melinda casually waved the sheet.

"No. It’s the instruction manual. It explains what abilities I’ll have access to after completing the final stage of the enhancement."

Having finished reading, she clenched the paper in her fist.

A faint green flame flickered between her fingers, quickly reducing the sheet to ashes.

Skye’s eyes widened.

"That’s awesome. You’re using magic just like Evenson!"

Coulson’s expression darkened.

"Magic..."

He abruptly slapped the table and stood.

"I knew it! Ever since our first meeting with Evenson, I’ve known you had more aptitude for this than I did. You clearly have some magical talent."

He stopped.

"Wait. Was that actually our first meeting with Evenson?"

After everything that had happened, Coulson was beginning to question practically every detail of his life.

For all he knew, Melinda had already met Evenson long before the supposedly first encounter she’d told him about. Perhaps the entire meeting had been staged simply to give him the impression that it was their introduction.

"There’s a limit to how much you can distrust me, Phil."

Melinda’s expression cooled.

She wasn’t particularly happy about his accusations. Then again, when she considered how many things she’d concealed from him, she couldn’t exactly claim to be blameless.

"That really was my first meeting with Evenson. I promise."

"You promise..."

Coulson shook his head.

At this point, he honestly couldn’t tell which parts of Melinda’s explanations were true and which were carefully constructed lies.

"So, after that meeting, you were assigned by the director to test whether Evenson’s magic could be replicated in ordinary people."

He looked at her intently.

"I know the director gave Evenson information about several SHIELD agents and allowed him to select someone for magical training. Ward was even among the candidates. But every single one of them was eventually rejected."

Coulson’s expression grew increasingly grim.

"Now I understand. Those candidates were just a cover, weren’t they? The real choice had already been made. You were the only person he actually wanted."

Melinda frowned.

"Hmm..."

She considered her answer.

"Regarding everything you’ve just said, I can neither confirm nor deny it."

What else could she say?

Evenson really had rejected all the other agents. She really was the only SHIELD operative he’d ultimately selected.

But the director had nothing to do with that decision. In fact, Nick Fury hadn’t even known about it.

Still, neither confirm nor deny was standard SHIELD language for classified information.

Coulson wasn’t impressed.

"Oh, come on, Melinda. We’re both Level Eight agents. Are you seriously telling me I can’t know anything about this?"

"That’s not quite right."

Melinda tilted her head.

"Phil, you’re a Level Eight agent. I’m actually Level Nine."

Coulson froze.

What?

She’s above me?

Was SHIELD turning into a matriarchy?

Between Black Widow, Maria Hill, and now Melinda, it seemed every Level Nine agent he could think of was a woman.

"When did that happen?" he demanded. "When were you promoted?"

He stopped himself and shook his head.

"Fine. That’s not important. What matters is that you’re a member of my team. I’m the team leader. Don’t you have some responsibility to tell me when something this significant is happening?"

"Not exactly."

Melinda shook her head.

"Actually, Phil, I’m the real leader of this team. I’ve always been the one directly reporting to Director Fury."

Coulson stared at her.

"What?"

He could hardly believe what he’d just heard.

"That’s impossible! I put this team together!"

"I put this team together."

Melinda sighed.

By now, there wasn’t much point in keeping the truth from him.

"I drew up the original roster. I identified the suitable candidates and arranged for them to be brought before you. Do you remember how strongly I opposed Skye joining the team at the beginning?"

She glanced toward the younger agent.

"She wasn’t on my list. She was never part of the original plan."

Coulson slowly rubbed his forehead.

"So my selection process, all those evaluations and tests... They were just for show? The actual candidates had already been chosen?"

He paused.

"But you weren’t on that list. I was the one who approached you. I was the one who convinced you to join."

Melinda gave him a tired smile.

"Phil, you’re not particularly difficult to predict."

She folded her arms.

"Do you honestly think Director Fury wouldn’t have anticipated what you were going to do? And if I’d genuinely decided to settle into an administrative position, would I really have abandoned that decision just because you stopped by my office and asked me to join your team?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Come on. You barely even asked. You didn’t take me out to dinner or offer me a decent bottle of wine. You just showed up and said hello."

Coulson spread his hands.

"Would you have preferred that we held hands and watched a movie?"

He looked utterly bewildered.

"Why is all of this happening?"

"Why?"

Melinda shook her head.

"You just mentioned that this team was created to help Evenson with his personality problems. But that was only a secondary benefit."

She looked him directly in the eyes.

"The real purpose of this team was to help you."

Coulson’s expression changed.

"The events in Tahiti affected you deeply. The director was worried about your condition, so he arranged this team to help you stabilize."

Melinda paused.

"Everything we’ve done has been intended to keep you functioning."

"I see..."

Coulson slowly sank into his chair.

"Tahiti..."

He looked up at Melinda, his expression vacant.

"What exactly happened in Tahiti? Tell me."

Melinda hesitated.

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer.

"That..."

She bit her lip.

"It’s classified."

She had already revealed far more than she’d intended. But there were some things Coulson was better off never knowing.

Nobody wanted to discover that they’d been to hell.

And nobody wanted to learn that they’d been given a luxurious suite there—inside a cage guarded by the hellhounds.

The two agents fell silent.

Then a communication transmission suddenly crackled through the aircraft’s speakers.

"Can anyone hear me? SHIELD 616, do you copy? I’m under attack by hostile aircraft. Over."

Coulson immediately recognized the voice.

"Garrett?"

The transmission continued, increasingly frantic.

"I’m under attack! Repeat, SHIELD drones are on my tail, and they’re not exactly being friendly!"

Coulson looked at Melinda.

"Do you know what’s going on?"

Today had already been one revelation after another.

First, he’d suspected Melinda of being a traitor. Then he’d discovered that both she and Evenson might have been following special orders from the director. His aircraft had somehow been remotely compromised, and now an old friend was being hunted by SHIELD aircraft.

His head was spinning.

"Tell me this is another one of the director’s orders. What the hell has Nick Fury been planning?"

Melinda checked the cleaver secured behind her waist.

Her expression turned cold.

"No. This isn’t one of his orders."

She looked at Coulson.

"He can’t issue any more orders. The director... is dead."

Coulson went completely still.

"That’s why Evenson contacted me the way he did. For now, that’s all I can tell you."

Nick Fury is dead?

The words seemed to echo inside Coulson’s skull.

After a few moments, he managed to process the information.

And strangely enough, things began to make sense.

The director was dead. And it almost certainly hadn’t been a natural death. Someone had assassinated him.

SHIELD’s senior leadership—or perhaps the World Security Council—must have decided to conceal his death rather than announce it immediately. They were keeping the information classified while issuing orders to recall senior agents in the field.

That would explain why Coulson’s aircraft had suddenly been taken over.

It would also explain why SHIELD’s communication channels had been flooded with interference. They couldn’t risk sensitive information leaking out.

But there was a problem with that approach.

Senior agents tended to be suspicious by nature. They were trained to expect betrayal, and suddenly stripping them of control while refusing to explain anything was bound to make them nervous.

Some would inevitably attempt to escape the restrictions.

Garrett might have been one of them.

And if he’d tried to break away from SHIELD’s remote control, the people overseeing the operation might have interpreted his actions as betrayal.

That would explain why the drones were attacking him.

Of course, there was another possibility. The people responsible for Fury’s assassination might be using the drones to eliminate SHIELD’s most capable agents before they could organize a response.

Either way, things were bad.

There was another issue, too.

Nick Fury had been the one person in SHIELD who knew every secret. He coordinated the different teams, distributed assignments, and ensured that the organization’s countless compartmentalized operations didn’t interfere with one another.

But now he was gone.

Every team had its own secrets. Every agent had separate instructions. Without Fury’s authorization, many wouldn’t even know whether they were allowed to share what they knew with their colleagues.

The result was inevitable.

Suspicion. Mistrust. Conflicting orders.

And if Hydra had managed to infiltrate the organization—which was hardly impossible—its agents could exploit that confusion to turn SHIELD against itself.

That might explain Melinda’s behavior earlier. She wasn’t necessarily hiding things because she distrusted him. She might simply have been following orders that prevented her from telling him anything.

Coulson finally understood why she’d seemed so frustrated.

But there was something more important.

Nick Fury wasn’t an ordinary man. He wouldn’t simply die without making preparations.

He must have anticipated this possibility.

No—knowing Fury, he’d have prepared for it even if there had been no immediate threat. The man probably had contingency plans for contingencies.

And Evenson’s unusual contact with Melinda was the strongest evidence.

He’d deliberately adopted an aggressive posture, used Skye’s body as leverage, and communicated with Melinda in a language Coulson couldn’t understand.

He’d done all of that because the information was too sensitive to discuss openly.

This had to be one of Fury’s contingency plans.

The moment the director died, Evenson had been instructed to activate it.

Coulson nodded slowly.

Then he looked at Melinda, his expression becoming serious.

"I’m not going to ask anything else. We’ll go back together and help SHIELD get through this crisis."

"No."

Melinda shook her head firmly.

"This time, I’m going back alone. The rest of you should stay out of it."

"But I—"

Coulson abruptly stood, ready to argue.

Then he stopped.

After a moment, he sank back into his chair.

"All right."

Melinda was probably carrying out Fury’s final instructions. And judging by everything she’d revealed, those instructions clearly didn’t include Coulson or the rest of his team.

If he acted without understanding the plan, he might compromise the entire operation.

Worse, his actions could be interpreted as an act of betrayal.

"Things are complicated, Phil."

Melinda turned and began walking toward the upper level of the aircraft.

"From this moment on, don’t trust anyone."

"I understand."

Coulson nodded.

When the aircraft reached its destination, he had no idea who would be waiting for them. SHIELD personnel? Or the people secretly working against the organization?

And now that Garrett had contacted him, the people overseeing the operation might already consider him an accomplice.

That old friend of mine certainly knows how to drag me into trouble.

Meanwhile, Garrett was piloting his aircraft not far from Coulson’s airborne command center.

The drones behind him continued their relentless assault.

He was already growing frantic, and Coulson’s failure to respond to his transmission only made things worse.

Then something caught his attention.

A docking hatch on top of Coulson’s aircraft—the opening normally used for smaller aircraft to connect with the carrier—suddenly opened.

A dark figure slowly crawled out.

Its eyes glowed red.

Garrett stared.

What the hell is that?

They were flying tens of thousands of feet above the ground at considerable speed. Yet the figure was standing perfectly upright on the aircraft’s roof as though the wind resistance didn’t exist.

He immediately opened the communication channel.

"Coulson! There’s someone standing on top of your aircraft. Looks like some kind of medieval knight wearing black armor. Do you know what that is?"

"That’s..."

Coulson hesitated.

"Classified."

Seriously?

Garrett nearly cursed aloud.

He’s definitely hiding something from me. Does he suspect I’ve done something?

Before he could think further, the drones behind him seemed to notice Coulson’s aircraft.

One of them immediately broke formation and accelerated toward the airborne command center.

It locked onto the rear of the aircraft, closing the distance as its weapons prepared to fire.

Then the black figure on the roof moved.

"AR...THUR!"

With that distorted cry, the armored figure suddenly charged toward the rear of the aircraft.

It ran at full speed along the roof before launching itself into the air.

The maneuver was already insane enough.

But the figure deliberately caught the powerful slipstream coming off the aircraft’s tail, using it to propel itself even farther.

It shot through the air like an artillery shell, heading straight for the pursuing drone.

BOOM!

Garrett’s eyes widened.

The figure performed a midair rotation before landing belly-down on top of the drone.

It crawled forward a short distance.

Then green smoke erupted from its armor.

Four chains, each resembling a writhing metallic tentacle, burst from its back and drove themselves into the drone’s surface.

Garrett could only stare.

"Are you kidding me?"

The drone suddenly became covered in countless glowing green patterns. Flames flickered along its surface.

Then its weapons activated.

Two missiles launched forward, both covered in the same strange green markings.

But instead of continuing toward their original targets, the missiles abruptly changed direction in midair.

They curved around and shot backward, striking the other pursuing drones.

Both machines exploded and fell away.

The possessed drone then tilted vertically.

Its engines shifted position, and the entire aircraft performed an astonishing maneuver, rotating until it had completely reversed direction.

With the armored figure still attached to its surface, it accelerated into the distance.

Within moments, both had disappeared from sight.

Garrett remained speechless.

He was almost grateful the thing had been an unmanned drone.

With a maneuver like that, any human pilot inside would have been killed instantly.

At the same time, inside a SHIELD command center, several lights on a massive display suddenly went dark.

Each one represented one of the drones.

An operative in black tactical clothing stepped forward and delivered his report.

"All drones have been destroyed. John Garrett is still alive. He may have successfully made contact with Coulson."

Another operative immediately spoke up.

"I recommend deploying additional personnel. We should shoot down the aircraft directly."

"Unnecessary."

A calm voice came from behind them.

"I couldn’t obtain control of Garrett’s aircraft remotely. That’s why I ordered its destruction. Now that he’s aboard Coulson’s aircraft, we can deal with both of them after they land."

The others turned.

The man standing behind them was a senior SHIELD security operative.

Agent Jasper Sitwell.

"Do you have a problem with that, Agent?"

Sitwell adjusted his glasses.

He had noticed one of the operatives standing nearby with his head lowered, his expression troubled.

"Sorry, sir."

The man gave a bitter smile.

"I just... I find it difficult to kill someone I once considered a friend."

"Oh, I see."

Sitwell smiled.

Then, in one smooth motion, he drew his pistol and shot the man in the head.

The operative collapsed.

The others stared in stunned silence.

Sitwell looked around at them.

"Once that encrypted message is transmitted, everything will be different. We all understand that, don’t we?"

The remaining agents exchanged glances.

Then, in low, resolute voices, they responded together.

"Hail Hydra. Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place."

"Exactly."

Sitwell wiped his glasses before putting them back on.

"We’re stepping out of the shadows and into the light. But Garrett doesn’t deserve to share in that light."

His expression hardened.

"We swore an oath. Today is the day we prove our loyalty. Anyone who hesitates has already chosen their fate."

He glanced toward the dead operative.

"Garrett betrayed his oath. He betrayed the organization and everything we’ve worked toward. He doesn’t deserve to stand among us."

Sitwell’s voice grew colder.

"He’s a stain on our ranks. A disgrace. And that disgrace must be cleansed."

He raised his voice.

"Hail Hydra!"