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Of course, Nick Fury didn't actually know that the only real requirement for the coveted "membership upgrade" was a simple, straightforward gold deposit.
The paranoid director hadn't just been hoarding a single ton of gold; in all likelihood, he had mapped out a secret vault containing far, far more for one singular, desperate purpose:
He wanted to keep buying Devil Fruits until Rosh's inventory ran completely dry.
It was clear the old spy had quite the appetite.
It was clear that the Director's appetite for power and control was far from satisfied. But as far as Rosh was concerned, he could use a dozen more customers with that exact brand of ruthless ambition. He welcomed the staggering influx of wealth with open arms.
"It's a deal," Rosh had replied, giving Fury the immediate green light.
"Excellent. Then we have a firm understanding, Manager." Fury cut the line, a look of grim, calculating satisfaction settling over his scarred face. He leaned forward, tapping a button on his desk. "Get Coulson in here. Now."
"You called, Director?"
Barely a minute later, the ever-reliable Agent Phil Coulson stepped into the inner sanctum of SHIELD headquarters. Though he maintained his usual calm, clockwork professionalism, there was a frantic, hopeful energy humming right beneath the surface of his eyes that he couldn't quite suppress.
Like every major operative in the world, Coulson had been watching the Home of the Devil Fruits official website like an absolute hawk. The moment the servers updated, he knew about the newly minted membership tier. He knew that for verified VIP organizations, the rigid lifetime purchase limit had officially bumped up from three fruits to five.
This meant SHIELD suddenly had two wide-open slots on its roster. Since the agency's first two purchases had naturally gone to elite field specialists like Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, it was only logical, at least in Coulson's mind, that the next slot should go to the man who handled all the brutal logistics and heavy lifting. He had put in the years. He had bled for the agency. He had filed every single mountain of classified paperwork. Surely, the Director wouldn't pass him over this time.
The timing of it all was just too perfect to ignore. The sudden website updates, the urgent, immediate summons to the Director's office, the signals were practically screaming at him. This was his shot. A chance to finally become a super-soldier. A chance to step out of the shadows and stand on his own two feet. Deep down, Coulson wanted it more than he was ever willing to admit out loud.
"Coulson, what's the Captain's current status?"
The sharp question completely caught Coulson off guard. Instead of bringing up the newly unlocked Devil Fruits or discussing who would claim the fresh slots, Fury was asking about Steve Rogers. The sudden pivot derailed his train of thought.
"He's still at the nursing facility, sir," Coulson answered, quickly recovering his professional poise. "He's spending his time visiting Peggy Carter."
"And how exactly has he been adjusting over the past few days? Give me your honest assessment."
"How would anyone be adjusting?" Coulson sighed, a rare flash of genuine empathy softening his face. "Imagine waking up from a seventy-year coma only to realize the entire world ruthlessly moved on without you. Everything he ever knew is gone. Everyone he ever loved is either a fading memory or currently lying at death's door. He's completely lost, sir. He's a soldier looking for a home that simply doesn't exist anymore."
Fury didn't look surprised by the bleak report. In fact, beneath his hardened exterior, the Director completely understood the psychological toll. If he were to suddenly find himself dropped into a completely alien, futuristic world, he knew he would also lose his bearings, spiraling into a deep, defensive confusion.
Honestly, if Fury hadn't proactively arranged for Cap to see Peggy Carter the moment he woke up, the living legend's state of mind would probably be a total disaster right now.
And yet...
That exact vulnerability was precisely what Fury was banking on.
As the director of the world's most powerful intelligence agency, Fury wasn't just a fanboy of the living legend; he was a cold-blooded, calculating strategist. He understood the absolute symbolic power Captain America held for a fractured nation, and he knew the unparalleled tactical value of having that shield officially on the SHIELD payroll.
Right now, a golden opportunity to permanently "anchor" the tragic Captain to the agency had practically dropped into his lap. It came in the fragile form of a dying Peggy Carter, combined with a highly specific, newly unclassified entry in the Home of the Devil Fruits online encyclopedia.
One particular fruit had jumped right off the screen, striking a powerful chord in Fury's tactical heart. The moment he read its description, he became utterly convinced it was the master key to ensuring Steve Rogers remained a fiercely loyal SHIELD asset.
This was the real, desperate reason he had mobilized a metric ton of gold within minutes of the website's update; he absolutely could not risk another global superpower or shadow organization snatching this specific strategic asset off Rosh's shelves.
"The Captain sacrificed literally everything for this country," Fury said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register laced with a heavy, unspoken subtext. "He deserves a real future, don't you think?"
"Of course," Coulson agreed. He wasn't entirely sure what grand chessboard move the Director was playing at just yet, so he simply nodded along. The boss was always right, anyway.
"Furthermore, the Home of the Devil Fruits has officially rolled out its exclusive membership tier. I assume you're already well aware of the update?" Fury pivoted smoothly, his sharp, single eye locking onto Coulson with laser focus.
'Here it is,' Coulson thought, his internal monologue practically screaming. 'Finally! This is the moment!'
A massive wave of quiet triumph washed over Coulson, but years of deep-cover training kept his expression entirely deadpan. He merely offered a controlled, professional nod. "Yes, Director, I noticed the website update. This is the exact opportunity you've been waiting for, isn't it?"
"Exactly." Fury didn't bother to deny it; Coulson was one of the trusted inner circle who knew the classified coordinates of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s massive, off-the-books gold reserves. "Coulson, I want you to mobilize a heavy transport detail and take the required gold to the Home of the Devil Frutis Manhattan Building immediately. Secure our VIP membership status, and then..."
Coulson leaned in just a fraction of an inch, his pulse thumping like a bassline in his ears.
"...you are officially authorized to purchase a Devil Fruit for yourself."
'Finally! It's my turn!' Coulson could have wept tears of pure, unadulterated joy right then and there. He had broken his back for Nick Fury for a decade, always taking on the dangerous grunt work, the diplomatic nightmares, and the endless paperwork without a single complaint.
Granted, he was getting older, and he wasn't exactly a peak-human lethal weapon like Clint Barton or Natasha Romanoff, but his sheer loyalty, sacrifice, and sweat equity had finally counted for something.
The Director had a heart after all.
"However..."
The rushing wave of joy slammed into a solid brick wall. Fury's tone shifted, dropping into a cold, uncompromising register that brooked no argument.
"...you are strictly permitted to purchase the specific fruit that I have designated."
Coulson's professional smile completely faltered. "Sir?"
'What happened to the freedom of choice?' Clint had been allowed to pick his own power. Natasha had been given total autonomy. Why was he suddenly being treated like an unproven rookie? The burning unfairness of it stung sharply, a flash of deep resentment breaking through his usual stoicism. He had major objections. He felt the cold, heavy weight of S.H.I.E.L.D. injustice pressing down on his chest.
"I see, sir," Coulson said, his sharp, analytical mind quickly connecting the dots between their previous conversation about Steve Rogers and this sudden restriction. "The fruit I am buying... It's not actually intended for my personal combat use, is it? It's a chess piece for a much larger play."
"Precisely," Fury admitted, staring back at him without a single blink. "So, Agent... is that going to be a problem for you?"
"Of course not, sir," Coulson replied automatically, his muscle-memory training taking over before his personal feelings could sabotage his career.
Even if he couldn't choose his own specific power, at the end of the day, it was still a genuine, reality-bending Devil Fruit. He was being handed a golden ticket to superhuman abilities on a silver platter; he wasn't about to be foolish enough to kick a gift horse in the mouth.
Besides, after surviving under Nick Fury's paranoid leadership for so long, he knew exactly what kind of ruthless man his boss was. He wasn't going to lose sleep over a little tactical manipulation. It was just another Tuesday at S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Good. Get moving. Time is a luxury we don't have," Fury nodded with grim satisfaction, waving a dismissive hand to send his most reliable agent out into the field.
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Next Chapter: Reversing Time by Twelve Years
Next Next Chapter: The Immortal Agent and the Tree from Home
Next Next Next Chapter: Captain America, Have You Heard of Devil Fruits?
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