Chapter 216: Nick Fury's Concerns
If Ryū had been on the villa's second floor, he'd have recognised the giant braised-egg-shaped bald head on the display immediately.
Nick Fury. S.H.I.E.L.D. Director, or Deputy Director — Tony wasn't entirely sure which, and didn't care enough to confirm. The important thing was that he was the one running the operation.
Tony leaned back in his chair.
"Easy there, old friend — don't press so close to the camera. Your head is taking up about as much screen space as my bathtub. It's a lot."
The bald head retreated slightly. The proportions became more reasonable.
Fury's expression conveyed mild exasperation at the image, which he suppressed. "Well. If it isn't the famous playboy himself. You reaching out to me first — that's a first. Are you finally interested in joining S.H.I.E.L.D.? Becoming part of our organisation?"
Tony didn't bother with preamble. "You've recently found a hammer that fell from the sky."
Fury's expression shifted to something more engaged. He considered for a few seconds, then answered: "We have found an unusual hammer. It doesn't appear to be terrestrial in origin, and it has certain specific properties. Are you planning to take it back and study it? I'd advise against getting your hopes up — S.H.I.E.L.D. has deployed multiple approaches and none of them have been able to move the thing. Even if you're Iron Man, the odds aren't great. The weight characteristics are genuinely strange — it seems far heavier than the impact crater it made would suggest."
Tony waited until Fury finished. Then: "I'm interested in studying it, yes, and I'm going to go try. My friends are also interested. When we arrive, I'd appreciate your people not getting in the way."
"Friends? Since when does our playboy have that many friends?"
"Don't play dumb — it doesn't work on me. You know you've had people watching my place. You know I've had guests you can't identify. I know you don't know who they are. I also know you very much want to know who they are."
Fury: "…"
He very much wanted to point out that Tony's sentence structure had just looped through know, don't know, and want to know enough times to cause mild vertigo. He restrained himself.
He sat up slightly straighter, elbows on the desk. "I've been unable to obtain any background on your guests, I'll admit that. They're unusually opaque. I haven't moved on them precisely because they're associated with you. That's the only reason."
"If you moved on them," Tony said, crossing his legs, "I wouldn't even need to get involved. S.H.I.E.L.D. would simply not be around the next morning."
Fury's expression tightened.
He processed this for several seconds. Then: "You want to see the hammer and you're bringing your mysterious entourage. Why bring them? Their request?"
"Because most of them are my seniors and I respect them. Don't try to drive a wedge or fish for information — it won't work."
Tony suppressed a yawn.
Dealing with official channels was genuinely exhausting. Every second of conversation was a probe from the other side. The moment you let something slip, it was extracted before you even noticed. The experience of holding a conversation with someone who was professionally trying to get information out of you while pretending not to be was not restful.
He'd rather take a punch from a supervillain.
Several more minutes of exchange. The display went dark.
Tony took a sip of wine and shook his head quietly. "Fury. If the Admin hadn't mentioned you to me beforehand, I'd have let you figure all of this out on your own. The thunder god — I need to think about how to bring that particular idiot around to being cooperative later. Useful teammate, but the approach requires thought."
In the S.H.I.E.L.D. director's office, across the city:
Fury stared at the blank screen for several minutes.
Nobody outside the room could have said what he was thinking.
Eventually he reached for the desk phone and dialled.
"Coulson? Stark's people are going to come look at the hammer shortly. Don't block them."
"Yes, them — plural. He's bringing some friends, apparently. Keep eyes on them when they arrive. We haven't been able to pull any background on these individuals; I want everything observed and recorded."
"Yes. And remember — aside from Stark and his guests, nobody else gets anywhere near the interior perimeter."
"That's all."
He hung up.
He leaned back in his chair and let the ceiling hold his attention for a moment.
One operational eye. Thinking.
What is Stark running here? A group of people with absolutely no traceable background, and his relationship to them is just 'friendship'? He used the word 'seniors.' He used the word 'respect.'
And if S.H.I.E.L.D. moved against them — even if Stark himself did nothing — S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't be there the next morning?
If Stark's capable of saying that without obviously lying…
Fury pressed his fingertips together.
He wanted to investigate properly. He couldn't easily get traction on how to approach it, though. Tony's statement had introduced genuine uncertainty. What if it was accurate? What if pressing on these people produced a result that no amount of S.H.I.E.L.D. contingency planning would survive?
That was a headache of a different order.
The universe kept producing new superhumans and supervillains at a rate his organisation struggled to track. And now there was a new batch of unknown entities — at minimum ten people, probably more, with no traceable origins and an association with the most visible public figure in American technology. The emergence of the hammer and this group in the same window was a coincidence he didn't believe in.
His job involved not believing in coincidences.
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