◇ I'll be dropping one bonus chapters for every 10 reviews.
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 100 Power Stones. or 500 Collections
◇ You can read 40 chapter ahead on P@treon. if you're interested: patreon.com/Heroicverse
------------------------------------------------
Everyone looked up.
A S.H.I.E.L.D. Bus was seen landing on the tarmac outside.
The hatch opened, and a group of people walked in quickly.
Leading the way was an old white man in a black trench coat; he had only one eye, but that didn't diminish his gloomy aura.
Behind him followed Skye, Coulson, and his S.H.I.E.L.D. team.
"Halt!"
Steve raised his hand, signaling them to stop.
The surrounding Vought security personnel immediately raised their weapons, aiming at the uninvited guests.
"State your business," Steve said solemnly.
"I am Nick Fury."
The old white man spoke, his tone familiar—that kind of arrogance that made people want to punch him.
"What?" Tony was stunned for a moment, then sneered. "Ha? Nick Fury? Why don't you just say you're M.J.?"
Natasha added, "Indeed, Fury is black and is currently wanted. And it doesn't look like you're wearing a disguise."
Steve's gaze, however, fell on Coulson.
"...Coulson? Aren't you dead?"
"It's a long story, Captain." Coulson raised his hands to show he meant no harm, a hint of an awkward smile on his face. "But I am indeed alive, presumably."
"I know you have many questions. Why have I turned white? Why is Coulson still alive? Why am I here?" Fury took over the conversation.
"But now is not the time for stories." He scanned the crowd. "Because I'm not sure who around me can be trusted."
"We're getting on the ship."
"No," Tony flatly refused. "You say you're Fury, so you're Fury? I might as well say I'm Bruce Wayne."
"These are extraordinary times; no suspicious personnel are allowed near this ship."
The atmosphere grew tense.
Just then, Skynet's gentle voice rang out over the hall's intercom.
"Confirmed as Nick Fury himself."
Skynet's holographic projection appeared among them and nodded to Fury.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Fury. Mr. Starr mentioned your new look; it's very creative."
Hearing Skynet's confirmation, everyone's guard lowered slightly.
"So what?" Tony became even more annoyed after knowing it really was Fury. "Even if you are that Cyclops, this ship is full. Go somewhere else if you want to travel."
"Um... I'm not here for a vacation."
A crisp female voice sounded as Skye stepped out from behind Fury.
"I'm here to find my boss." Carrying a backpack, her gaze was firm. "My name is Daisy Johnson, or you can call me Skye."
"I am the undercover Agent Homelander planted in S.H.I.E.L.D.," Skye said, raising her voice.
At those words, the room went silent.
Even Fury and Coulson's faces couldn't help but twitch.
Although they had known for a long time, having this girl state so righteously in front of so many people that she was an "undercover Agent" was still somewhat embarrassing.
Jessica narrowed her eyes, sizing up the beautiful mixed-race girl.
"Undercover? How come I've never heard Anthony mention you?"
"That's classified," Skye shot back, staring her down. "A secret known only to him and me."
"He gave me this watch." She showed the seemingly ordinary mechanical watch on her wrist.
"He said that if I'm ever in danger, just press it, and he'll come to save me."
"But now..." Skye's voice trembled slightly, but she quickly steadied herself.
"I'm going to find him. I'm going to... report for duty."
"Report for duty?" Natasha chuckled. "Girl, that's a rather unique excuse."
"It's true," Skynet interjected again. "Miss Skye is indeed Mr. Starr's direct secret contact, with a very high clearance level."
Jessica and Wanda exchanged a look.
Women's intuition told them that this "reporting for duty" was probably not that simple.
But now was not the time for jealousy.
"The ship still has room," Jessica said lukewarmly. "One more won't make a difference."
"Thank you." Skye breathed a sigh of relief and quickly walked up the ship's ramp.
Coulson and his team also wanted to follow.
"Hey! Wait!" Tony stopped them. "Tickets are limited! Those seats are for family! Why are you Agents trying to join the fun?"
"We're going to help!" Coulson argued.
"That's outer space! It's not a place for you to play spy house!" Tony snapped back mercilessly.
"Forget it, just let them go," Fury reached out to stop Coulson. "We have our own mission."
His gaze turned to Tony Stark.
"Stark, when you find him, tell him..."
"I'll be right here waiting for him. If he's still alive."
Tony gave Fury a deep look and nodded.
The hatch closed.
The engines of "Homelander II" roared. Under the gaze of Fury and the others, it slowly ascended, then turned into a streak of light and disappeared into the horizon... "Whoosh—whoosh—"
Dry air, scorching wind, mixed with coarse sand, pelted against the uniform with a series of thuds.
The sky was a murky yellowish-brown, and the ground looked as if it were covered by an old shroud.
"I say..."
"Is this the so-called luxury vacation?"
"System, do you have some kind of misunderstanding about the word 'vacation'?"
"The vacation I imagined involves beaches, sunshine, bikinis, and 37-degree fresh milk."
"Do you think I haven't fought enough over there, so you specifically sent me here to participate in PUBG?"
No one responded to him. Only the distant buzzing, like the high-frequency vibration of insect wings, could be heard.
"Whatever, since I'm already here." Homelander sighed. "Let's see which unlucky World this is first."
Super Vision activated; his gaze pierced through the smoke and dust, through the concrete walls.
"Oh? That's..." Homelander's eyebrows twitched slightly, his interest piqued... On that scorched earth, two figures moved quickly through the shadows of the ruins.
The man in front was wrapped in a dust-covered brown tactical trench coat, with a black uniform faintly visible beneath.
In his hand, he gripped a SCAR assault rifle modified with Kryptonite ballistics; in this World devoid of hope, this was Bruce Wayne's only remaining reliance.
Following behind him was a woman with cute red and blue pigtails, but now they were messy and dirty.
The jacket she wore was so tattered that its original color was almost unrecognizable.
Harley Quinn, the former Queen of Crime in Gotham, was currently dragging a heavy anti-tank grenade launcher, chewing on a piece of gum that had long lost its flavor.
"How much further? Batsy."
Harley lowered her voice, but her tone carried a somewhat neurotic excitement.
She kicked a skull aside. "If you don't let me blow something up soon, I'm going to start blowing myself up."
"Shut up, Quinn."
Bruce didn't look back; he stopped behind a collapsed concrete wall and raised his binoculars to observe a deserted subway entrance ahead.
"According to Cyborg's intel, there's a group of black market dealers there, and they have the Kryptonite we need."