Dragging his injured body, Nick Fury quickly contacted Hill, who had not yet left the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.
With her help, they retreated to the nearest secret base, where he received some basic medical treatment.
"Fury, what now?" Hill asked, concern in her voice as she gently wrapped his wound.
Nick Fury reached into his pocket and took out the old pager he always carried. He stared at it for a moment, then put it back without activating it.
"Not yet," he muttered. "Notify Coulson to continue with the plan. I'm heading to Malibu, Los Angeles."
"Los Angeles?" Hill repeated, a bit surprised.
Fury nodded, already pulling on his leather jacket and rising from the bed.
"I'm going to talk to Tony Stark—figure out where his intel is coming from and see if we can use it to uncover Hydra's moles inside S.H.I.E.L.D."
Originally, if his movements had gone unnoticed, he would've been able to investigate quietly and eliminate Hydra agents one by one. But it was clear now—time wasn't on their side. If he waited, he might be dead before he found anything.
As Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury knew just how easily the organization could track someone. With agents posted around the globe and surveillance satellites constantly feeding data, no one could hide—not from them.
All that infrastructure had been built under his watch, designed to protect Earth in the event of global threats, like the Skrulls and Kree.
Now it was being used against him—by Hydra.
"Until we know for sure who the Hydra agents are, you can't fully trust anyone—except Coulson," Fury said firmly, adjusting his hat.
Then, disguised and focused, he left the base. Despite being S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director, Fury was still a top-tier field agent. With a few hidden tech gadgets, he could easily slip past S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own tracking systems—for a while, at least.
—
That evening, Tony returned to his Malibu mansion. The first thing he did was run a more advanced self-diagnostic, even creating a small device to draw and test his blood on demand.
"The palladium levels have reached 5%... Being a superhero really isn't as glamorous as it looks."
Staring at the data on the screen, Tony sighed. He was already starting to feel the effects.
"Sir," Jarvis chimed in, "Nick Fury has once again entered the property. Would you like me to alert Mr. Happy to remove him?"
Tony glanced at the security feed and scowled. "This guy really doesn't believe in knocking. No need to bother Happy—I'll handle it myself."
He walked to the armor chamber, where Jarvis assisted him in suiting up. Ever since Fury had casually broken into the mansion last time, Tony had upgraded the security protocols and installed satellite jammers over the house.
Now, dealing with the poisoning, his mood wasn't great—and Fury had just become the perfect outlet.
Legally speaking, breaking into someone's home could warrant being shot. Tony figured a good scare, or maybe a punch, would teach the director some manners.
—
In Queens, New York, Carl had just stepped out of the car when Leo, the head of the neighborhood security team, rushed over.
"Boss, we've got a new tenant next door. Moved in around noon today. Name's Natalie Shostakov. She's actually at your house now."
Carl raised an eyebrow. "I thought Mrs. Martha lived next door?"
"She does," Leo replied. "But she's been renting out the two spare bedrooms to make some extra money. Been listing them online for a while. Natalie signed the lease this morning and moved in right after."
"That's awfully fast. Do you have her background?"
Leo handed over a folder. "Our intel team ran her records. Everything checks out."
Carl skimmed the pages. "Natalie Shostakov. Born 1988. Current residence..."
Nothing seemed off. If his team hadn't picked up any red flags, it was unlikely he'd find something they missed.
"Alright," Carl said, handing the folder back. "Thanks."
Since she was already in his home, he figured he'd meet her and get a read for himself. Some things just couldn't be judged from paperwork alone.
—
"I'm home!" Carl called as he stepped inside.
Laughter rang out from the living room.
"Natalie, I didn't know you liked The Dick Van Dyke Show too!" Wanda giggled. "That scene is one of my favorites."
Hearing Carl's voice, Wanda got up cheerfully and took his briefcase, then gestured to a red-haired woman on the sofa.
"Honey, meet our new neighbor—Miss Natalie Shostakov. She's lovely."
Carl smiled and gently tousled Wanda's hair. Turning to Natalie, he offered a hand.
"Good evening, Miss Natalie. I'm Carl, Wanda's husband. Welcome to the neighborhood."
Natalie returned the smile warmly. "You two look so happy together. Wanda's already told me so many good things about you. Honestly, after talking to her today, I'm starting to think I should settle down too."
Wanda blushed. "Natalie, you're beautiful and successful. I'm sure there's a line of men waiting to date you."
"But finding someone like your husband? That's rare." Natalie stood and grabbed her purse. "Anyway, I won't intrude on your evening. I'm starving. I'll go see what's in the fridge."
"True," Wanda said with a playful grin. "There's no one like my husband."
Just as Natalie was about to leave, Wanda perked up.
"Actually, why don't you stay for dinner? Mrs. Martha's probably not coming home tonight, and I cooked way too much. You'd be doing me a favor."
She turned to Carl and gave him a knowing wink.
"Honey, why don't you check next door? See if Pietro's back yet. He said he'd join us tonight."
Carl paused, then smirked. He knew full well Pietro hadn't made any such promise.
But he understood Wanda's plan immediately—matchmaking.
Natalie was charming, attractive, and single. Wanda clearly thought she'd be perfect for Carl's brother.
"Got it. I'll go call him now," Carl said, stepping out with a chuckle.
Wanda was trying to play cupid again.
And this time, he had to admit… she might actually be onto something.