Chapter Eleven: The Lich King Is the Most Principled [New Book Seeking Collection and Recommendations]

Knowing that his salary would be docked again, Coulson felt rather indifferent. After all, it wasn’t the first time this had happened. He thought, "He’s the Director; I’ll indulge him." Only when Nick Fury had finished venting did Coulson bring the phone closer and continue.

“Director, I’ve uncovered some new information, but I also miscalculated certain details. I’ll take full responsibility for this intelligence failure. However, at this point, we cannot afford to lose Barton—or rather, until we identify the opponent’s weaknesses, we need to proceed with caution and conduct a comprehensive risk assessment of the target. Whether containment or elimination is appropriate needs to be determined through further testing.”

Within S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury’s already dark expression grew even darker. He began to feel the sting as well. He was generous when spending other people’s money, but when it came time to pay out of his own budget, he was anything but pleased—thoroughly, utterly displeased.

The funding for S.H.I.E.L.D., from its inception to the present, had always been supported by the United Nations. Though, as things stood, S.H.I.E.L.D. had been hollowed out by HYDRA and hadn’t accomplished anything particularly significant, nor had it made any major missteps. Moreover, Nick Fury was a master at extracting funds; no matter the circumstances, he could always wring out a little more from those Security Council suits—enough to build secret bases and safe houses everywhere, embodying the saying, “a cunning agent always has more than one warren.” Even the agents’ salaries came from this creative accounting.

Even the Black Widow, while undercover at Stark Industries, had to perform her duties diligently. Except for “cash-class” heroes like Iron Man and Batman next door, everyone else had to moonlight just to make ends meet!

Now, with just a few words from Roald, Nick was forced to pay a hefty sum for Barton’s sake. And he had no choice—otherwise, how could S.H.I.E.L.D. hope to recruit other superheroes in the future?

Because he didn’t know what cards the other side held, he couldn’t risk a rash move. The organization’s reputation and stance had to be clear and upright.

Money was a small matter; Nick Fury could always cajole or fleece the Security Council for more, and any missing funds would quickly be replenished from the UN. What he truly couldn’t stomach was that, for once, he was the one being threatened—he, who had always been the one making threats.

Every cent he brought in was the result of his own efforts. S.H.I.E.L.D. was a massive operation, with expenses everywhere; having to pay out a large sum now reminded him of the pain once inflicted by the Supreme Intelligence.

With nothing valuable gleaned from Roald, Nick was in a foul mood. For now, though, the Barton affair took precedence—revenge could wait, and he had plenty of ways to repay Roald in kind.

But the reporter Coulson had mentioned—Nick Fury couldn’t quite make sense of him.

“Director, I imagine you’ve reviewed the intelligence on Peter as well,” Coulson said calmly. “His abilities may be connected to that spider statue beneath Sixth Avenue. And the way Roald suddenly snatched Barton away—it gave me a sense of déjà vu, reminiscent of Spider-Man’s webbing.”

“You suspect a connection?”

“Yes, Director. That’s why I intend to start with Peter Parker.”

“Then I’ll leave this matter in your hands. Find out whatever you can. And Natasha is currently unavailable for action—we can’t afford to lose another Barton.”

Natasha was still under observation. Only after the final mission test would Nick consider formally sending her on assignments.

As New York grew more chaotic and Nick gazed at the photo of Spider-Man in his hand, he felt the urge to form a disciplined, organized team composed entirely of superheroes. Otherwise, situations like today’s threat might happen again.

Nick Fury’s decision brought a sigh of relief to Coulson. The rest would be up to him.

Half an hour later, in a nearby café that agents had swiftly commandeered, everyone took their seats.

“How much do you want? If it’s reasonable, I can transfer the funds to your account right now.” As he spoke, Coulson’s eye twitched slightly; he hoped the man before him wouldn’t ask for too much, that the Director would be generous afterwards, and that the amount would fall within his own authority—otherwise, things would get complicated.

He didn’t want to have his salary docked to death. He was already sick of hot dogs and hamburgers.

More importantly, once they had the man’s account details, they could use his spending history to learn more about him. That was the real objective.

Putting away his phone, Coulson looked at Roald, then at the unfriendly Erika. He steadied himself, as if remembering something, and stood up to offer a formal gesture, removing his hat.

“Allow me to introduce myself once more. I am from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division—a highly specialized department dealing with matters far beyond the capabilities of ordinary people. We are by no means an ‘abnormal’ organization.”

Coulson placed his credentials on the table with deliberate slowness. “This is the greatest sincerity I can show.”

“Agent, your insight and composure are truly impressive—able to turn danger into safety with such ease. Though our meeting today was pure chance, perhaps it was fate that brought us to this pleasant transaction,” Roald said somberly as he picked up Coulson’s credentials.

“To be honest, had you refused to pay, I was considering dealing with you all right here. After all, that’s one of our team’s specialties.”

Coulson frowned, carefully weighing Roald’s words. As a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, he’d encountered all sorts, but this man seemed fully capable of following through.

“Of course, since you’re willing to pay, everything’s simple. Payment means it’s a transaction, and a transaction must be principled—don’t you agree, Agent? But without principles, things can turn out like this.”

The credentials in Roald’s hand emanated a chilling aura. Then, gripping them, Roald pressed down on the metal table, which immediately burst into an eerie blue flame before everyone’s eyes.

The darkness-infused power corroded and dissolved the metal instantly.

“Your principles are well-founded—one can’t help but be convinced!” Coulson massaged his forehead, retreating a few steps. The flames before him sent a chill through his body. After a brief pause, he said, “Since you value the rules of a transaction, Mr. Roald, perhaps I have a proposal.”

“Agent Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D., I hereby sincerely invite you to join us—to help safeguard the United States, or even the world.”

Such dangerous individuals were best kept under observation within the system. Coulson was only making a suggestion, testing Roald’s attitude toward S.H.I.E.L.D.

“As you can see, I’m just a well-meaning ordinary citizen!” Roald spread his hands and refused without hesitation. “Besides, if I can make money this way, why would I want to work for you?”

Well said—Coulson found himself speechless.

“Then, our conversation ends here. Thank you for your principles, sir.”

Failing to recruit him, Coulson saw no reason to linger. He straightened his suit. “I hope this abrupt disturbance won’t affect our relationship. Perhaps I’ll come to you again in the future, and if you’d welcome me then, I’d be most grateful. But for now, shall we discuss the ransom for the little elf prince?”

Trying to lighten the mood, Coulson cracked a joke. Roald smiled in response; he, too, was testing S.H.I.E.L.D.’s tolerance.

“I’m not asking for much—just one million dollars. After all, I’m not a monster.”

“Or do you mean to say that your famous agent Hawkeye isn’t even worth a hundred thousand?”

“That would be truly heartbreaking, wouldn’t it, Mr. Barton?”

Roald looked at Barton as he spoke.

Barton nodded instinctively.

Suddenly, something felt off.

Wait—

Why did I nod?

Shouldn’t I be angry?

What is this uncontrollable feeling?