Ambushed

"A bunch of hypocritical politicians!"

Nick Fury strode out of the White House, muttering a curse under his breath. Ever since the World Security Council had demanded that S.H.I.E.L.D. open access to part of its database, some idiots blinded by profit had begun pushing their luck and setting their sights on other things.

They were like a pack of hungry hyenas circling S.H.I.E.L.D., always ready to sink their teeth in and tear off a large chunk of flesh whenever the chance arose.

Without giving any thought to who exactly was protecting this world?

"Perhaps I should keep a lower profile." Fury understood that a tall tree caught the wind. Over the years, S.H.I.E.L.D. did seem to have drawn too much attention.

He got into a black Cherokee, clutching a file on the Sentry. There was not much information in it; the other party had appeared like a ghost, only to vanish into thin air.

Even Fury, a top-tier agent himself, could not draw any useful leads from it. It was hard to imagine that, under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s global surveillance, someone could leave behind no trace to follow.

Fury saw two possibilities: either the Sentry was a powerful hacker, and he had been responsible for infiltrating the global network; or this mysterious figure of unknown origin was not on this planet at all.

"Who exactly are you?"

The Black director gripped the steering wheel as he thought to himself. Before he could sort through the clues, a tremendous crash suddenly rang out!

On Pennsylvania Avenue near Capitol Hill, a specially reinforced SUV barreled out from the side. With a bang, it slammed hard into Nick Fury’s black Cherokee, the sheer force crushing the metal door inward.

Blood seeped from the Black director’s nose as he shook his head. The driver’s airbag had deployed, cushioning part of the impact for him.

"Fracture detected… Anesthetic injection recommended." The vehicle’s onboard intelligent assistant delivered its report.

Before Fury could react, another violent collision struck. One after another, reinforced SUVs boxed him in from every direction. He was now trapped like a turtle in a jar, with no way to escape.

"Damn it! Call the Washington D.C. Police Department! There’s been a terrorist attack on Pennsylvania Avenue!"

Nick Fury gritted his teeth and pulled a white syringe from the front compartment. He needed to stay alert and calm; first, he had to suppress the pain coursing through his body.

"Apologies. The Washington D.C. Police Department has no officers in this area and cannot respond," the intelligent assistant answered mechanically.

The SUVs backed away, and numerous heavily armed soldiers stepped out. Without hesitation, they raised their submachine guns and opened fire. Bullets struck the bulletproof glass, spreading dense cracks across it.

This was a vehicle outfitted with the highest-grade bulletproof equipment, personally built by that playboy Tony Stark. Its quality and durability were absolutely guaranteed.

"Get me out of here!"

Nick Fury ordered the intelligent assistant. Though it was not comparable to Iron Man’s Jarvis, it was more than capable of handling a crisis.

"Propulsion system disconnected…" Even in such a dangerous situation, the voice replied in the same flat manner.

"Then restart it now!"

The Black director roared. Outside, gunfire rained down in a relentless barrage, flames flashing violently. No matter how excellent its bulletproofing was, the vehicle could not withstand such punishment forever.

Seeing that the black Cherokee had not fallen apart beneath the fierce gunfire, the leader immediately ordered his men to bring out a breaching tool resembling a battering ram. Four metal supports were driven into the ground, and its front end repeatedly extended and slammed forward. The tremendous force nearly overturned the entire vehicle. They had chosen the simplest and most brutal method; they had not blocked the street for long and needed to complete the mission quickly.

"Window integrity at 19%… Aggressive measures recommended," the intelligent assistant reported.

"Wait!"

Another savage impact sent Nick Fury bouncing out of his seat. Yet the veteran agent did not panic too much. He had spent his entire life in battle, and even in the face of danger, he tried his utmost to remain calm. Only then could he find a sliver of hope for survival.

"Window integrity at 1%."

"Execute!"

The one-eyed Black man shouted, both hands swiftly gripping the quad-barreled machine guns that sprang out from the compartment. A fierce burst of fire wiped out the ambushers waiting outside. Finally, he launched a miniature missile, flipping over the SUVs carrying those men. Amid the thunderous explosions, flames shot into the sky.

"Propulsion system is now connected." At that moment, the vehicle’s propulsion system had also finished restarting.

"Full speed ahead!"

The Black director could not help thanking Stark inwardly—though he had never thought very highly of that playboy.

The machine guns unleashed fierce firepower as the black Cherokee rammed aside the SUVs blocking its path and sped straight ahead, finally breaking out of the encirclement.

"Initiate vertical takeoff."

Nick Fury shouted. This vehicle not only had an intelligent system, bulletproof armor, and weapons, but also an aerial ejection system for emergency escape.

"Flight system damaged."

Unfortunately, things did not go as smoothly as he had hoped. The rain-like barrage of fire had damaged the flight system installed on the vehicle.

"Then activate the navigation camera and switch to manual driving."

The Black director did not lose heart and issued a second set of orders. As long as he could escape Washington D.C. and hold out until reinforcements arrived, he would be safe.

"Contact Agent Hill." Nick Fury wanted to notify another trusted subordinate.

"Communications shattered and damaged."

"What isn’t damaged?"

"The air-conditioning system is currently functioning normally."

While having a pointless exchange with the intelligent assistant, the Black director drove the black Cherokee through the traffic. He had already burst out of the ambush site on Pennsylvania Avenue, but several persistent SUVs trailed behind him as both sides weaved through the congested traffic in pursuit.

"Traffic control ahead," the intelligent assistant calculated the route.

"Find another route." The black Cherokee narrowly brushed past a bus, dangerously close.

"Roosevelt Island Bridge has a traffic alert. All vehicles have stopped. 17th Avenue, three blocks ahead, is clear."

Following the route planned by the intelligent assistant, Nick Fury drove the black Cherokee onto a relatively open road with less traffic. During the tense chase, the one-eyed Black man used every means at his disposal to shake off the attackers pursuing him relentlessly. He was a highly trained soldier, a Level Ten S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with immense combat experience and military knowledge. Before Superheroes, he could only display his peerless strategic mind, while his own capabilities were unconsciously overlooked.

The director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had once completed every training program for the green and Black Berets special forces. He was a top military expert, capable of rapidly devising appropriate tactical measures according to changes on the battlefield. In a sense, he could be considered the military’s Super Soldier.

"Couldn’t hold back any longer, could you? This time, I’ll drag you out into the open for good!"

Nick Fury looked at the attackers he had shaken off through the rearview mirror and said fiercely to himself. Without Stark’s new vehicle, he would have fallen into those people’s hands this time.

Whenever he thought of the undercurrent lurking within S.H.I.E.L.D., like a venomous snake waiting to devour its prey, constantly seeking an opportunity to destroy this special organization dedicated to safeguarding world security in one stroke, his heart filled with anxiety.

A black figure suddenly appeared before the cracked windshield. Dressed in a black uniform and wearing a half-face mask, he held a launcher steadily in his hands. His eyes were indifferent and devoid of emotion, like an unthinking machine.

A transparent shockwave surged forward, like an intangible force field created by a powerful pulse. It wrapped tightly around the speeding black Cherokee like a giant net, sending the vehicle airborne before it overturned onto the ground, scraping across the pavement with a shriek and a trail of sparks.

Nick Fury forced his eyes open and saw the black figure slowly approach. He tore open the car door with a metal arm, and then Fury’s consciousness sank into darkness.