*Bang!*
The items on the defense table were nearly all swept to the floor the moment Nick Fury bolted upright.
Fury's expression could no longer be described as merely grim. It was catastrophic.
How?
How was this possible?
Beside him, Phil Coulson and Melinda May shared identical expressions. Unlike their Director, they had both eyes intact, and those eyes were currently wide with a look usually reserved for seeing a ghost as they stared across at Locke.
Ms. Wright, the DOJ representative, was utterly dumbstruck.
The FBI Senior Supervisor, however, let out a violent sputter, spraying the mouthful of water he had just taken all over the table.
WTF?
What was going on?
Did they really think this was the final seconds of the Super Bowl?
A game-winning touchdown out of nowhere at the very last second?
Even Judge Knott, perched on his high bench, was momentarily dazed.
They weren't suing the FBI anymore?
Instead, they were filing against the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division and its Director?
"What... what kind of Division is this?"
Judge Knott felt like a massive question mark had materialized over his head, with several more trying to force their way out.
But Nick Fury cut the confusion short. He fixed a heavy, dark stare on Locke. "How do you know about us?"
Locke glanced at Fury and offered a thin, sharp smile. "Take a guess."
He never liked pointless chatter. Why waste words now? It was better to wait until the enemy was finished before having a conversation. Talking to a snake before its head is crushed only gives it a chance to bite back. Locke wasn't about to commit the classic "villain's mistake" by monologuing or over-explaining.
Fury's lone eye flared with rage, and he took a step forward.
Immediately, a bailiff stepped in, his hand resting on the holster of his sidearm, thumb flicking the safety catch. He stared at Fury with cold indifference. "Sir, step back. Now."
Watching this, Buson Laun felt a surge of certainty. The intelligence was 100% accurate.
Now... it was time to sound the horn of the offensive.
"Your Honor!"
Laun stepped forward, handing a new set of documents to Judge Knott. "These are materials regarding the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division and its Director—this individual here, Nick Fury. My apologies, Your Honor; due to the extreme secrecy of this organization, these are the only records we could find. For more detailed information, we will likely require a judicial order for public disclosure from this court!"
Ms. Wright finally snapped out of her trance. "Your Honor, you do not have the authority—"
Judge Knott let out a chilling laugh and glanced at the bailiffs in the room. Their eyes immediately snapped toward the defense table. At this point, no matter how much the DOJ protested, the judge knew whether the documents were real or fake.
"Good."
"Very good."
Knott flipped through the fragmented records of S.H.I.E.L.D. Though the information was sparse, it was enough for him to realize one thing:
He had been played.
First, these people told him they were FBI.
Fine. He believed them.
Then, in his private chambers, this man had placed his hand on a Bible, swore to tell the truth, and claimed to be a high-ranking CIA operative.
Fine. He believed that too.
He had even been prepared to dismiss the case for the sake of national security and the protection of "undercover agents."
But now?
It turned out they weren't even CIA?
What did they think this place was?
This was a US Federal Court, not a D.C. political backroom built on a foundation of lies and deceit. If the courts were filled with lies, then the freedom and justice of the United States were truly lost.
And there was one more person to deal with.
"Senior Supervisor Colin!"
The FBI official at the defense table flinched as his name was barked out. He looked at the judge, whose face was now as dark as a soot-stained pot. "Y-Your Honor?"
Judge Knott took a deep breath, holding up the documents Laun had just provided. "I know you, Colin. You and your Director have been to my poker games. Remember this: you sat in my office just now. You didn't speak, but you stood there while oaths were taken on the Bible. I am asking you now—is the information in these documents true?"
Supervisor Colin's mouth hung open.
What was he supposed to do?
His Director hadn't given him a script for this scenario.
Nick Fury, held in place by the bailiffs, shot a sharp look at Colin. 'Don't say it. Die before you admit it.' If he admitted it, not only would S.H.I.E.L.D. be exposed, but his "CIA" lie would turn into a prison sentence for perjury.
But Colin hesitated, looking at the judge's furious eyes, and then gritted his teeth. "Yes. Director Nick Fury is the Director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division!"
Judge Knott actually smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.
Ms. Wright was horrified. "Your Honor, the Strategic Homeland—"
The judge's temper was white-hot now. "Ms. Wright, I told you: this is a courtroom, not D.C. You may be experts at manipulating a political landscape built on lies, but not here."
"Bailiffs!"
"Sir!"
*Bang!*
"Take them into custody," Knott commanded, his voice cold as ice.
"Contempt of court. Perjury. Heh, well done. In all my decades on the bench, this is the first time I've seen someone lie so brazenly and so repeatedly in my presence."
The bailiffs moved in unison.
Fury, Coulson, and May's expressions shifted instantly. Melinda May's hand twitched instinctively toward her hip.
However, their firearms had been surrendered at the security checkpoint before entering.
Her sudden movement didn't go unnoticed. The bailiffs drew their weapons in a blur, leveling them directly at May. It was a stroke of luck that these were court bailiffs and not NYPD street cops; otherwise, Melinda May might have been riddled with bullets right then and there.
"Your Honor!"
"Knott!"
"You can't do this!"
"You don't have the authority!"
"I don't?"
Judge Knott watched as the bailiffs physically seized Ms. Wright, who was screaming in protest. He stood up, pointing a finger at the Great Seal of the United States behind him.
"I don't have the authority? This time, even if it costs me my seat on the bench, I am going to find out exactly who thinks they can come into my court and make a fool of me!"
He turned his gaze back to the last man standing at the defense table, Supervisor Colin. "I don't care how 'classified' this agency is. In my experience, there is no such agency recognized by Congress. My mandatory disclosure order will be in your Director's email before the sun sets."
Colin's jaw dropped. "Your Honor—"
Knott wasn't finished. "The FBI wants to settle with the plaintiff? Fine. Ten million dollars in compensation."
Colin's eyes nearly bulged out. "Judge, that's—"
"If you don't like it, we can proceed to an open trial together..."
"Wait!" Colin shouted. "We agree! We agree!"
No FBI office wanted to be forcibly dragged onto a public defense stand by a vengeful judge. If he said no, Judge Knott would follow through on his threat, and the New York FBI's reputation would be shredded.
Where would the ten million come from? They'd squeeze it out of S.H.I.E.L.D., obviously.
'Damn S.H.I.E.L.D.', Colin thought. The Director was right; ever since S.H.I.E.L.D. put that Baldy in charge, they'd become a liability.
Judge Knott took a breath to steady his rage. He looked at the documents and announced, "The court accepts the new filing. The trial date is set for two days from now."
Buson Laun smiled. "Thank you, Your Honor."
Knott looked at Colin one last time. "The summons will be delivered to the Federal Building. In two days, either this 'Division' stands in my court, or the FBI stands in their place. Adjourned!"
With that, the judge stood up and stormed out of the room.
Locke rose from his chair. He looked at Laun and smiled. "Well done."
And he meant it. The "fun" part hadn't even started yet, and they already had ten million in compensation. That was more than he made in six months of "hunting," and it was pure, tax-free income.
Of course, the firm would take a cut—probably around three million—and another million was earmarked for "logistics" through the firm. But it wasn't about the money. This was a bonus. Locke was happy to have it, but the real prize was still S.H.I.E.L.D.
Laun smiled back. "Just doing my job, Mr. Broughton."
For TNT&G, winning was what they did best. Usually, Laun didn't argue cases personally—he usually sent the charismatic, handsome younger lawyers who could charm a jury into turning a murder charge into a misdemeanor. But this was a special case.
Laun watched Supervisor Colin, who was frantically wiping sweat from his forehead while dialling his phone as he rushed out. Laun looked at Locke. "In two days, the real battle begins. We need to secure total victory."
Locke smiled. "What are our current odds?"
"Eighty percent."
Locke pointed toward the doors, indicating the media waiting outside. "The other twenty percent is out there. I suppose it's time to go claim it."
The two men exchanged a look, and a moment later, the courtroom echoed with their shared, confident laughter.
***
Oh damn we're close to 400 stones already.
I'll post a bonus immediately after we reach it.
Thanks for the support y'all 💕
***
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