Pierce's voice trembled with extreme fury and disbelief, every word like venom:
"The Bates family! Right under the 'protection' of your damn S.H.I.E.L.D. agents! Within a few hundred meters of you! Blown sky-high! By that lunatic! Right in front of your eyes! Blown to bits! Nick! NICK FURY!! Answer me! How do you explain that?!! Is that your 'safe-house transfer protocol'? Transfer to hell?!"
Fury listened in silence. Even during the pause when Pierce struggled to catch his breath, Fury could hear the heavy, nearly-broken gasps on the other end. He neither immediately refuted nor defended himself.
When Pierce's rant was temporarily interrupted by violent coughing, Fury finally spoke in a steady tone: "Alexander, calm down."
"'Calm down'?!" Pierce's voice suddenly rose, almost cracking. "You tell me to calm down?! I don't care about the lives of the Bates family! But I gave Bates my word, and I care about my promises! And now, my credibility has been obliterated along with the Bates family! Right under your nose! Nick! Tell me, was this a scene you orchestrated yourself? To swallow the 'Witch' data I gave you?! Are you and that lunatic working together?!!"
At that moment, a lightning-fast thought flashed through Fury's mind—the casual, yet infinitely malicious, message Hawk Lane gave him as the explosion's dust settled.
The timing was perfect. He interrupted Pierce's out-of-control accusations, his voice still steady but with a piercing force: "Pierce, the 'King,' or rather, Hawk Lane, told me to pass on a message to you."
The phone line went instantly dead silent.
Fury clearly repeated the phrase, every syllable weighted with cold finality: "He said: 'You're welcome.'"
"..."
Silence. A suffocating silence that lasted for several seconds. It was as if the person on the other end had suddenly vanished, or had their soul instantly frozen by the words. Even the heavy, labored breathing ceased abruptly.
Then, Fury keenly caught an extremely faint, almost imperceptible gasp. Was it utter shock?
Pierce's voice immediately erupted, more frantic and out of control than any previous roar, perhaps even tinged with a hollow belligerence:
"Wh-What?! 'You're welcome'?! What the hell does he mean?! Thank him for what? For killing the people I was trying to protect?! Nick Fury! Are you playing games with me?! Are you trying to shift the blame?! How could that lunatic possibly send a message to me?! He doesn't even know who I am!!"
Pierce's voice sounded like a runaway train, desperately rushing toward a deep abyss of self-destruction. His denial was too eager, his reaction too intense, completely exceeding the scope of simple anger over a massive loss. It was the panicked backlash of a man whose deepest secret had been partially exposed.
Fury's lone eye narrowed into its most dangerous slit. All his suspicions instantly condensed into cold sharpness.
"Alexander," his voice dropped, carrying the pressure of having seen everything. "Your reaction… is quite interesting. Let me guess… did Bates know some of your secrets? And Hawk knew them too? He simply took out Bates due to his private grudge, which coincidentally solved a problem for you. Therefore, he told you, 'You're welcome'?"
"...What the hell are you talking about?! Nick!" Pierce's voice clearly choked, followed by a fiercer roar. But to an old fox as experienced as Fury, the frantic panic barely masked by the noise was unmistakable. "Your incompetence allowed him to slip through! Don't you dare try to pin this failure on me! How the hell would I know what that maniac is thinking?! Why would he say that?! What does he want?!"
Pierce's heart hammered frantically in his chest, ready to burst through his ribs. Hawk Lane's "You're welcome" was like a bolt of lightning tearing open his deepest nightmare. You're welcome? Welcome for what? For cleaning up the liability Bates—who could potentially expose his ties to Hydra? Pierce was certain Bates wouldn't betray Hydra since his two bastard sons were under Pierce's control. So how could Hawk know? How else could "You're welcome" be explained? Could Hawk Lane actually know about Hydra?! The thought sent a chill through his entire body. But he absolutely couldn't admit it. Not a hint of it could show. Fury, the old fox, was already suspicious.
"I don't know what he wants," Fury's voice remained cold, cutting through Pierce's psychological defenses with surgical precision. "But I know what he did. And he did it in the most humiliating way possible. As for why he specifically asked me to deliver that message to you… Alexander, perhaps that's a question you can answer better than I can."
"Enough!" Pierce abruptly cut him off, his voice twisted from the effort of forced control. "Fury! This isn't over!"
Click!
Doo... Doo... Doo...
Pierce violently slammed the phone down on the other end. The harsh busy signal echoed in Fury's empty office.
Fury slowly lowered the receiver, his face devoid of anger over the threat, showing only cold contemplation and a now-solidified suspicion.
Pierce's outrage was real, but his panic—his over-interpretation of "You're welcome," his desperate denial, and especially his almost frantic, hasty hang-up—all pointed to the same possibility: Alexander Pierce harbored a deeper secret, one he desperately needed to keep hidden.
That simple phrase, "You're welcome," was a key that had jammed open the door of suspicion in Fury's mind regarding Pierce's true allegiance.
He looked out at the blinding sunlight, a cold glint in his lone eye. "Hawk Lane… who exactly are you? How big a game are you playing? And Pierce… what layer of shadow are you hiding in?"
He turned to Hill, who had been silently monitoring the call, her expression just as grim, and issued a new directive: "Highest priority encrypted order. Target: Alexander Pierce. I need all of his itineraries, communication records, financial flows over the past thirty years, and any potential crossover with abnormal biological research projects and related entities. Maximum clearance—direct retrieval, no approval needed."
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