"That shop really is... something else."
Nick Fury leaned back in his chair after listening to Coulson’s report. Then he turned his attention to Habs.
"So you’re capable of holding a normal conversation with us?"
Habs rested his chin on the floor and looked thoroughly uninterested.
"Obviously. Unless you’ve only been pretending to understand English this whole time."
He paused thoughtfully.
"Would Portuguese be easier for you?"
Fury’s eye twitched.
"I’ll kick you through that wall."
The jab landed exactly where Habs intended.
Among the earliest European powers involved in the Atlantic slave trade, Portugal had been one of the pioneers. Habs clearly knew enough history to weaponize it.
The husky simply turned his head away with an exaggerated sniff.
"Hmph."
Coulson wished he could disappear.
His director was engaged in a verbal duel with a dog.
A dog that he had personally escorted into headquarters.
His annual performance review was beginning to flash before his eyes.
Taking a slow breath, Fury forced himself to calm down.
"Very well... Mr. Dog."
Even saying it sounded ridiculous.
"Would you mind waiting outside for a few minutes?"
"Why?"
Habs didn’t even bother lifting his head.
"I’m comfortable."
A vein appeared on Fury’s forehead.
I am the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
I do not argue with dogs.
He repeated the mantra several times before managing to suppress the urge to have Habs shipped directly to the nearest research lab.
"My agents and I have classified matters to discuss. We’d appreciate some privacy."
"So talk."
Habs yawned.
"Since when do humans need to hide conversations from dogs?"
I am the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
I am the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
His hand had already drifted toward the pistol at his hip.
The greatest battle in S.H.I.E.L.D. history, Director versus Husky, seemed only seconds away.
Fortunately, Coulson intervened before diplomacy collapsed completely.
"Habs," he said with practiced patience, "why don’t you let Agent Melinda take you to the cafeteria?"
"I heard they’re serving fresh steak."
The transformation was instantaneous.
Habs sprang to his feet.
"Steak?"
"Medium rare, please."
"You people eat like this every day?"
He looked at Coulson with shining eyes.
"So... does S.H.I.E.L.D. need a tracking dog?"
"I’ve got decades of experience finding people."
"And biting them."
"I’m hardworking, loyal enough, and open to contract work."
Coulson couldn’t help laughing.
"Let’s discuss your résumé later. Go enjoy lunch first."
Tempted beyond resistance, Habs trotted toward the door.
Halfway out, he glanced back.
"Seriously, think about it."
"It’d take five or six of your agents just to pin me down."
"My boss won’t let me transfer jobs..."
"...but freelance work is negotiable."
Then he disappeared into the hallway in search of steak.
Coulson watched him leave before turning back toward Fury.
The director’s face looked even darker than usual.
"Sir... he was joking."
"I know."
Fury folded his hands.
"...Mostly."
The fact that even a magical dog viewed S.H.I.E.L.D. as a potential side gig was strangely irritating.
He pushed the thought aside.
"Tell me about the warlock."
"When you explained our suspicions to him, how did he react?"
Coulson considered the question carefully.
"He was angry."
"Agitated."
"Impatient."
"He called our accusations the product of ignorant fear."
"And... he mocked me rather thoroughly."
Coulson reported the exchange exactly as it had happened.
He had no reason to embellish anything, nor any reason to protect Evenson. They had only met twice, and neither meeting could be described as especially pleasant.
Professional honesty came first.
"Excellent," Fury said.
Coulson blinked.
"Excellent?"
"You expected me to be offended?"
Fury shook his head.
"Did he ever seem frightened?"
"Uneasy?"
"No."
"He became emotional for a moment, but he never looked worried."
"And honestly..." Coulson shrugged.
"I don’t think he believed he had anything to fear."
That much seemed obvious.
The accusations against Evenson had been built almost entirely on speculation. If someone arrived at your doorstep accusing you of impossible crimes with no evidence, irritation was a perfectly reasonable response.
Coulson saw confidence born of innocence.
Fury saw something else.
Most ordinary people became nervous the moment S.H.I.E.L.D. identified them as a person of interest, whether they were guilty or not.
Evenson hadn’t.
Not even a little.
That suggested he believed he possessed enough power to protect himself if things turned hostile.
Fury kept that conclusion to himself.
"How did he treat you?"
He continued before Coulson could answer.
"Arrogant?"
"Did he look down on you?"
"Or the opposite?"
"Trying to flatter you?"
"No."
Coulson answered immediately.
"He jokes constantly."
"Some of those jokes are... pretty vicious."
"But throughout both meetings, he treated us as equals."
"He never acted superior."
"He never acted intimidated."
Fury fell silent.
The office remained quiet for nearly a minute.
Finally, he nodded.
"Good."
"That gives him potential."
"I think it’s time to add him to the candidate list."
"C...candidate list?"
The question escaped Coulson before he could stop himself.
The moment Fury’s lone eye shifted toward him, he realized he’d wandered into classified territory.
"My apologies, sir."
"I spoke out of turn."
"It’s fine."
Fury waved the apology away.
"You’re my most trusted field agent."
"And you’re the first person from S.H.I.E.L.D. to establish meaningful contact with him."
"You would have learned eventually."
He leaned back.
"I’m assembling candidates for a special response team."
Coulson frowned.
"I take it this isn’t an ordinary task force."
"If a warlock qualifies, I doubt the rest of the roster will be ordinary either."
Fury answered with a question of his own.
"Do you know about the Hulk?"
Coulson almost laughed.
"Of course."
"He turned General Ross’s forces into scrap metal."
Fury nodded.
"Ross suffered a humiliating defeat."
"Conventional weapons might as well have been made of cardboard."
"Fortunately, Banner wasn’t trying to conquer the world."
"He only wanted to escape."
His expression hardened.
"But what happens when the next Hulk isn’t so restrained?"
"What if someone with that level of power decides the Empire State Building ruins the skyline?"
"What if they decide the President should be thrown out of the White House?"
"How do we stop them?"
The room fell silent.
"The best answer to a weapon of mass destruction..." Fury said quietly, "...is another weapon of mass destruction."
His eye narrowed.
"We need a dedicated unit."
"A special team capable of dealing with people powerful enough to threaten the world."
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