The 42nd floor of the Triskelion offers a commanding view of the Potomac—sunlight dancing on rippling water, civilian vessels navigating channel markers, all of it appearing deceptively peaceful compared to the tension within the glass-walled conference room.
The Motherfucker himself, Nick Fury stands with his back to the assembled team, his single eye fixed on the cityscape beyond. His hands are clasped behind him in a posture suggesting contemplation rather than the irritation simmering beneath his composed exterior.
"Someone want to explain," he begins without turning, voice dangerously measured, "how a man dressed like a bat has been operating in my fucking backyard for nearly a month without SHIELD having anything substantive on him?"
The four agents seated at the conference table exchange brief glances. Maria Hill, recently promoted to senior field operations, is the first to respond.
"Sir, initial reports were dismissed as urban legend—similar to the Daredevil sightings in Hell's Kitchen. Low priority given current operations tempo."
"And when this 'urban legend' started leaving criminals gift-wrapped for NYPD? Disrupting weapons shipments? Interfering with operations we've had under surveillance for months?" Fury turns now, his eye settling on each agent in sequence. "Still low priority?"
Agent Phil Coulson clears his throat. "The operational profile changed significantly three weeks ago, Director. What began as simple street crime intervention escalated to disruption of organized syndicates, particularly the Russian Bratva."
"And most recently," Hill continues, sliding a tablet toward Fury, "he's intersected with operations of particular interest to SHIELD. The warehouse incident last night involved weapons based on technology that hasn't been publicly deployed."
Fury scans the tablet's contents, his expression darkening. "And HYDRA connections?"
"Unconfirmed but probable," Coulson replies. "The iconography matches historical HYDRA symbolism, though it could be a splinter group using familiar imagery."
Fury sets the tablet down with controlled precision. "Let's assume it's HYDRA until proven otherwise. That means our bat friend has stumbled into something significantly above his weight class." He focuses on Coulson. "I want everything we have on this vigilante. Everything. Full surveillance package, facial recognition against all databases, movement patterns, technological analysis. I want to know who he is, what he wants, and how the hell he knew about that warehouse operation before we did."
"Yes, sir." Coulson doesn't bother with notes; his memory for operational details is legendary within SHIELD. "And if we locate him?"
"Observe only. For now." Fury moves toward the head of the table. "If he's just another well-intentioned vigilante with fancy toys, we contain and monitor. If he's something else..." He lets the implication hang. "Hill, you'll lead the field team. Stay covert—if this guy spotted HYDRA's operation, he might spot ours if we're not careful."
"Understood." Hill's expression remains professional, but there's a hint of eagerness in her eyes. The Batman assignment represents a more intriguing challenge than her recent duties.
"One more thing," Fury adds. "Whatever you find, it stays within this group. No database entries, no official communications. If our bat friend has connections we're not seeing yet, I don't want him tipped off by routine internal chatter."
The meeting concludes with assigned tasks and timelines, the machinery of SHIELD's intelligence apparatus grinding into motion around a target who has suddenly graduated from curiosity to priority. As the agents disperse, Fury remains at the window, his reflection ghostlike against the backdrop of Washington.
"Sir?" Coulson has lingered behind. "There's something else you should see."
Fury turns as Coulson activates the room's main display. Video footage appears—grainy security camera images showing a dark figure moving with impossible speed through the warehouse raid. The Batman—if that's truly what he calls himself—neutralizes armed opponents with efficiency that suggests more than just combat training.
"Enhanced?" Fury asks, studying the footage.
"The movement patterns are consistent with above-human capabilities," Coulson confirms. "Strength, speed, reflexes—all well beyond Olympic level."
"So either he's naturally enhanced, or the suit is providing significant augmentation."
"Or both," Coulson adds. "The technology evident in his equipment suggests resources beyond what's typically available to vigilante operators."
Fury nods slowly, processing the implications. "Find out where he came from, Phil. People with these capabilities and resources don't just appear from nowhere. There's a history here we're not seeing."
"Yes, sir." Coulson moves toward the door, then pauses. "One other observation—the fighting style shows unusual restraint for someone with that level of capability. No fatalities, controlled application of force."
"Meaning?"
"Whoever he is, he has a code. Limits he won't cross. That might be useful information."
Fury's expression doesn't change, but he acknowledges the observation with a slight nod. As Coulson departs, the director returns his gaze to the Potomac, mind already calculating possibilities, contingencies, and potential advantages in this new development.
The Batman has officially landed on SHIELD's radar.
______________________________________________________________
Bernard was right. I needed a break.
After weeks of dividing my time between Batman's nighttime activities, Oscorp's corporate demands, and the increasingly complex web of intelligence gathering required to track HYDRA's movements, my enhanced physiology was showing signs of strain. Not physical exhaustion—the spider powers provide near-limitless stamina—but mental fatigue from constant vigilance and compartmentalization
So here I am, doing something I haven't done since arriving in this universe: simply walking through New York as a regular person. No Batman suit, no Oscorp executive attire, no particular destination or purpose. Just jeans, a Henley shirt, baseball cap, and sunglasses—the classic "celebrity trying to be inconspicuous" disguise that paradoxically works better than it should.
The city feels different at street level, experienced at normal human pace rather than from rooftops or through the Batsuit's enhanced sensory systems. Vendors hawking questionable hot dogs, tourists consulting digital maps with bewildered expressions, locals navigating sidewalks with the practiced efficiency of long-time New Yorkers—all forming the living tapestry that makes this city unique across every universe where it exists.
I've chosen a deliberately random path through Manhattan, starting from a subway station sufficiently distant from my apartment to avoid establishing patterns. Bernard's counterintelligence training—acquired during his unexplained past before joining the Osborn household—has proven invaluable in developing protocols to prevent surveillance of either Harry Osborn or Batman.
The morning passes pleasantly as I wander through neighborhoods I typically experience only from above. I stop for coffee at a small independent shop, browse a used bookstore where I find an original edition of Asimov's Foundation that reminds me of my previous life, and spend an hour in Washington Square Park watching chess players destroy overconfident challengers.
Normal activities. Human moments. Great, right?
It's approaching noon when I feel the impact—someone crashing into me from behind with significant force. My enhanced reflexes prevent me from stumbling forward, my body automatically compensating to maintain perfect balance. Instead, I hear a surprised grunt and the sound of someone else staggering back.
"Sorry about that," I offer, though the collision was clearly her fault. "You okay?"
She stares at me with narrowed eyes, something like suspicion replacing her initial irritation. "You didn't even move."
"Good balance, I guess." I shrug, attempting casual dismissal.
"No," she says, studying me even more intently now. "I hit you full-on. You should have at least stumbled."
Her persistence is unusual—most New Yorkers would have muttered something profane and continued on their way. And there's something familiar about her, though I can't immediately place why.
"Maybe you're not as solid as you think," I suggest with a slight smile, trying to defuse whatever this interaction is becoming.
"Trust me, I know exactly how solid I am." She rubs her shoulder in a theatrical manner that doesn't match her earlier reaction. "Think I might have actually hurt myself. Feels like I ran into a brick wall."
The exaggerated wincing is clearly an act, but I play along. "Can I help? There's a coffee shop right there if you need to sit down."
A flicker of satisfaction crosses her features—she's maneuvered me exactly where she wanted. "Coffee would help. I'm Jessica, by the way."
Oh shit.
Jessica. The name clicks with her appearance, and suddenly I place her—Jessica Jones, powered private investigator, future Defender. Another player entering the board far earlier than expected in this timeline.
"Harry," I reply, deliberately omitting my last name as we walk toward the coffee shop. If she's truly Jessica Jones, she'll have no trouble discovering my identity if she's interested enough. And based on her manufactured collision, she's definitely interested in something about me.
The coffee shop is half-empty, the lunch rush not yet begun. We find a table near the window, and I notice Jessica scanning the space with the practiced awareness of someone accustomed to assessing environments for threats and exits.
"So," she begins after ordering a black coffee, "what does a guy who doesn't budge when hit by a freight train do for a living?"
"I workout," I reply with deliberate understatement. "You make a habit of body-checking strangers on the street?"
"Only the interesting ones." She studies me over the rim of her coffee mug. "And I've got good instincts about interesting people."
"Is that professional or personal interest?" I counter, deciding to push back slightly. If this is Jessica Jones, she'll respond better to direct engagement than evasion.
"Bit of both. I'm a PI. Jessica Jones Investigations." She produces a business card seemingly from nowhere—plain white stock with minimal text. "Finding people is what I do."
"And what makes you think I need finding?"
"Everyone needs finding sometimes. Even people who hide behind sunglasses and generic baseball caps." She reaches across the table with unexpected speed, I could've stopped her, but I saw no point in doing so. She plucked the sunglasses from my face. "Well, well. Harry Osborn. Slumming it today?"
The recognition doesn't surprise me—Harry's face occasionally appears in business publications and society pages—but her boldness is noteworthy. This is definitely Jessica Jones, though perhaps a younger version than I remember from Netflix portrayals.
Still hot, of course.
"Not slumming. Just taking a day off." I reclaim my sunglasses casually. "Does this approach usually work for your investigations? Assault potential clients and steal their accessories?"
She laughs—a genuine sound that transforms her face momentarily. "You'd be surprised how effective the direct approach can be. People are so used to subtlety that bluntness catches them off guard."
"Fair point. But I'm still not clear on why you're investigating me."
Jessica shrugs, the casual gesture at odds with her intense observation. "I wasn't. You just happened to be anomalously solid when I bumped into you. Professional curiosity kicked in."
"So you fake an injury to get coffee with a stranger because he has good balance?" I raise an eyebrow. "Seems like a lot of effort."
"I've gone to greater lengths for less information." She leans forward slightly. "So what's your story, Osborn? Last I checked, spoiled rich kids don't typically develop the kind of muscle density that stops a charging woman in her tracks."
"Maybe you don't know as much about the rich as you think." I match her posture, leaning in as if sharing a confidence. "Turns out board meetings are surprisingly motivating for gym time."
"Bullshit," she says cheerfully. "But it's quality bullshit, I'll give you that."
The conversation shifts into something unexpectedly enjoyable—verbal sparring with someone sharp enough to keep pace but not so persistent that I can't deflect when necessary.
"So what's with the sudden interest in fitness anyway?" she asks after we've covered more neutral topics. "Word is you used to be more interested in parties than protein shakes."
"What the hell do you mean by word? Who is spreading rumors about me," I then reply with what has become my standard explanation. "Priorities shift. Life happens. Ya know, adult stuff."
"Because of the Stark Expo?" Her question reveals more research than casual interest would explain. "You were there during the drone attack, right?"
This bitc-, how the fuck does she know that much...
"Among other places at other times," I acknowledge carefully. "Experience has a way of clarifying what matters."
Jessica studies me with unexpected intensity. "You're not what I expected, Osborn."
"Is that a professional assessment, Ms. Jones?"
"Jessica," she corrects. "And yeah, kinda. I've met your type before—trust fund kids playing at responsibility until the next distraction comes along. You're... different. Either you're an exceptional actor or quality stock."
Her perception is unsettling—too close to truths she couldn't possibly understand. I deflect with a question of my own: "What about you? Private investigation isn't exactly a common career choice for someone our age."
Something shutters behind her eyes momentarily. "Let's just say I also had experiences that clarified what matters." She drains her coffee and stands abruptly. "Thanks for the coffee and conversation, Harry Osborn. You're more interesting than your press coverage suggests."
"Does that mean the investigation is over?" I ask, matching her shift in tone.
"For now." She places her business card on the table, sliding it toward me deliberately. "But if you ever need someone who can find things—or people—that don't want to be found, call me. I have a feeling our paths might cross again."
As she walks away, I notice the subtle swaying of hips. That seemed out of the norm for her, did I really interest her that much? Jessica Jones is fully powered in this timeline, operating independently years before her canonical introduction.
I pocket her card, making a mental note to establish a more comprehensive file on Jessica Jones. As a potential ally, she represents significant capabilities; as a potential adversary, particularly if she continues investigating Harry Osborn's unusual physical attributes—she poses risks that require contingency planning.
Quite of a few contingency files must be made.
I need to remain adaptable, or else I'm fucked.
And perhaps most importantly, I need to be more careful about maintaining Harry Osborn's public persona. If Jessica Jones noticed my enhanced physical capabilities from a simple collision, others might make similar observations under different circumstances.
Bernard's advice for a break was sound, but perhaps not in the way either of us anticipated.
___________________________________________________
The night embraces Batman like a familiar companion, shadows gathering around the suit's contours as I observe the supposedly abandoned medical facility from a neighboring rooftop. Three nights of intelligence gathering have led me here—a HYDRA storage facility disguised as a condemned research building, hiding technologies and data potentially connected to the Winter Soldier program.
The suit has been further refined since the warehouse operation, incorporating lessons from each field deployment. The enhanced stealth system has proven particularly effective, allowing me to operate within meters of professional security personnel without detection. Tonight will test those capabilities against what is likely HYDRA's superior technological countermeasures.
I activate the suit's scanning systems, cataloging security measures both obvious and concealed. Motion sensors covering approach vectors. Thermal imaging cameras disguised as utilities equipment. Signal jammers preventing unauthorized communication within a hundred-meter radius. Professional, comprehensive security appropriate for a high-value storage site.
But there's something else—an electromagnetic signature the suit's sensors can't precisely identify, creating a diffuse field around the facility's perimeter. Something beyond standard security technology, possibly derived from the same advanced research evident in the weapons from the warehouse operation.
As I prepare to approach, my heads-up display flashes a warning: new heat signatures approaching from the southwest. The suit's enhanced visual systems identify a tactical team moving with professional discipline—four operatives in unmarked tactical gear, carrying what appear to be specialized scanning equipment rather than standard weapons.
Not HYDRA's security—their approach is too cautious, too observational. This is an intelligence team, likely conducting the same reconnaissance I'm performing.
Shit.
I adjust the suit's position, using a ventilation structure for concealment while maintaining sightlines on both the facility and the newcomers. The tactical team establishes position on a rooftop two buildings away, deploying surveillance equipment with practiced efficiency.
The team leader—a woman whose profile and movement patterns suggest extensive training—directs operations with minimal verbal communication. She's good, very good.
SHIELD.
This has to be a SHIELD reconnaissance team, likely investigating the same HYDRA connections I've been tracking. Which means Batman has officially attracted attention at the highest levels.
I activate the suit's directional microphone, focusing on the SHIELD team's position. Their operational security is professional—minimal verbal communication, encrypted when necessary—but even the best operatives occasionally speak when they shouldn't.
"Perimeter established," one agent reports quietly. "Thermal scanning active, no signatures matching target parameters."
"Maintain position," the female leader responds—voice low but carrying the unmistakable tone of authority. "He's been operating in this sector for three consecutive nights. Pattern suggests he'll appear within the next hour."
They're not here for the HYDRA facility. They're here for Batman. The realization shifts my tactical assessment completely.
I have three options:
1. Abort the mission, withdraw before SHIELD can establish contact or identification.
2. Proceed with the HYDRA facility infiltration, effectively using SHIELD's presence as additional security distraction.
3. Engage SHIELD directly—not confrontationally, but to establish parameters and potentially shared objectives.
The third option is tempting but premature. Batman isn't ready for direct SHIELD interaction—not until I better understand their specific interest and operational directives regarding vigilante activities.
Option one is safest but accomplishes nothing. Which leaves the second approach—proceeding while maintaining awareness of the additional observers.
I activate the suit's enhanced stealth systems and begin my approach to the HYDRA facility, using structural features to maintain concealment from the SHIELD team's position.
The facility's primary access points are heavily secured, but the ventilation system offers a vulnerability typical of retrofitted structures—maintenance access that bypasses primary security measures. I reach this entry point through a series of precisely calculated movements, each designed to minimize exposure to both HYDRA's security systems and SHIELD's surveillance.
As I bypass the ventilation security, my spider-sense tingles with sudden intensity—a warning not of immediate physical danger but of something else. I freeze in position, enhanced senses extending beyond the suit's technological detection.
There—a subtle displacement of air currents, the faintest electronic hum from a position that should contain neither. Active camouflage technology, sophisticated enough to fool standard visual detection but not the combination of enhanced senses and the suit's advanced systems.
SHIELD has deployed more than just the visible reconnaissance team. They have at least one operative using stealth technology, positioned closer to the facility than their main observation post.
I adjust my approach accordingly, using the suit's systems to map the probable position of the concealed observer without revealing my awareness of their presence. Female operative, based on the minimal physical indicators visible through the camouflage field. Positioned to observe both the facility and any potential Batman appearance. Likely the actual team leader, with the visible group serving as secondary surveillance and potential response force.
I complete the ventilation system bypass and enter the facility, moving through maintenance passages with practiced silence. The building's interior confirms my intelligence—what appears abandoned from outside contains sophisticated laboratory equipment and storage systems within, all carefully shielded from external detection.
These sneaky bastards.
Moving through the shadows between security patrols, I access a central computer terminal and deploy a specialized data extraction device designed to bypass HYDRA's encryption. The technology represents a hybrid of Oscorp security systems and custom modifications developed in the Cave—capable of penetrating protections that would stymie conventional hacking attempts.
As the device works, I conduct physical reconnaissance of the facility's contents. Storage units contain medical equipment consistent with cryogenic technology—supporting the Winter Soldier connection identified in previous intelligence. Other sections house weapons prototypes similar to those from the warehouse operation, but with modifications suggesting ongoing development.
The data extraction completes with a subtle indicator on my heads-up display. I retrieve the device and prepare to exit through a different route than my entry point—standard counter-intelligence procedure to prevent pattern recognition.
That's when the facility's security systems unexpectedly activate—not in response to my presence, but to something else. Alarms blare through previously silent corridors. Security personnel move with sudden urgency, their communications suggesting an external threat rather than internal detection.
"Perimeter breach, sector seven!" "Unknown hostiles approaching from northeast quadrant!" "Secure primary assets! Initiate Protocol Omega!"
Not SHIELD—they would maintain surveillance rather than directly engage without significant provocation. This is something else. I access the facility's security feeds through the terminal I'd previously hacked, confirming my suspicion.
Russian Bratva forces are assaulting the facility—heavily armed, moving with military precision, clearly intent on seizing the same technologies I've been investigating. The warehouse operation wasn't an isolated incident but part of an ongoing conflict between criminal organizations and HYDRA.
What began as covert intelligence gathering has become a three-way operational theater: HYDRA defending their facility, Russian forces attempting to seize its contents, and SHIELD observing from the periphery. With me, Batman caught in the middle. Ain't that a bitch?
I need to exit before the situation deteriorates further, but the active conflict complicates extraction routes. HYDRA security forces are moving to defensive positions, the Russians are breaching external barriers, and SHIELD is undoubtedly adjusting their surveillance to monitor the developing situation.
I activate the suit's tactical mapping system, identifying the optimal exfiltration route based on current force deployments. A maintenance shaft leading to the roof offers the best combination of concealment and efficiency, avoiding the heaviest concentrations of both HYDRA and Russian forces.
Moving with enhanced speed through increasingly chaotic corridors, I reach the access point just as the first exchanges of gunfire echo through the facility. The Russians have breached the main entrance, engaging HYDRA security in what promises to be a high-casualty confrontation.
I ascend the maintenance shaft rapidly, enhanced strength allowing vertical movement that would challenge even trained operatives. Reaching the roof access, I deploy specialized sensors to check for potential observers before emerging.
The scan reveals what I suspected—SHIELD has adjusted their surveillance coverage in response to the unexpected assault. The stealth operative I detected earlier has relocated to a position overlooking both the main confrontation and potential escape routes, including my planned extraction point.
I activate the suit's maximum stealth configuration, temporarily diverting power from non-essential systems to enhance the camouflage effect. The roof access opens silently, and I emerge into the night.
The SHIELD operative is good—professional stillness, optimized position, advanced surveillance equipment supplementing natural observation skills. But the combination of the suit's technology and my enhanced capabilities creates an asymmetric advantage. I move across the rooftop in her peripheral vision, using calculated timing to exploit the natural limitations of human perception.
For a moment, I consider leaving a calling card—some indication that Batman was aware of SHIELD's presence, establishing psychological leverage for future encounters. But operational security takes precedence over theatrics. Better to maintain the uncertainty, to let them question whether Batman was present at all or simply anticipated by coincidence.
I clear the facility's immediate surroundings just as the conflict below intensifies—explosive breaching charges detonating as the Russians push deeper into HYDRA's defenses. SHIELD will be forced to decide whether to maintain surveillance or intervene in a situation rapidly escalating beyond conventional criminal activity.
Three blocks away, I pause to verify I'm clear of immediate surveillance before accessing the data extracted from HYDRA's systems. The encryption is sophisticated but not impenetrable to the specialized decryption algorithms I've developed. Initial analysis confirms the Winter Soldier connection—deployment schedules, maintenance protocols, operational parameters for an asset designated "Winter Soldier."
But there's something else—references to "Phase Two Assets" with designations that don't match any HYDRA projects I'm familiar with from either MCU canon or the intelligence I've gathered since arriving in this universe. New programs, perhaps, or alternative designations for known operations.
I transmit the encrypted data to the Cave's secure servers for comprehensive analysis, then resume movement toward my planned extraction point. The Batcycle—concealed in an abandoned service tunnel three blocks from the operational area—will provide rapid transportation away from a zone likely to see increased law enforcement and intelligence presence in the coming hours.
As I approach the extraction point, my spider-sense activates with sudden intensity. I drop into a defensive posture instinctively, scanning for the threat my enhanced senses have detected before conscious awareness.
There—movement on an adjacent rooftop. Professional, controlled, nearly invisible to normal perception. The SHIELD operative has broken surveillance protocol to pursue, suggesting either specific orders regarding Batman contact or individual initiative beyond standard operational parameters.
I need to lose this tail without revealing the full extent of my capabilities.
I alter course, moving toward more densely developed blocks where structural complexity offers additional concealment options. The SHIELD operative follows with impressive determination, maintaining pursuit despite the challenging urban terrain. Their movement suggests enhanced physical training but not superhuman abilities—peak human performance rather than powered individual.
Still impressive.
Time to end this chase on my terms. I activate a specialized countermeasure developed specifically for surveillance scenarios—a device that creates multiple thermal and electromagnetic signatures matching the Batman profile, deployed in different directions while the suit's stealth systems reach maximum efficiency.
The SHIELD operative pauses at the sudden proliferation of potential targets, professional discipline momentarily overcome by uncertainty.
Gotcha.
That hesitation provides the opening I need. I drop into the narrow gap between buildings, using controlled descent techniques that combine wall-climbing abilities with the suit's impact-absorption systems.
By the time the operative reorganizes their pursuit, I've reached the Batcycle's concealment location and initiated departure protocols. The vehicle—a hybrid of Oscorp prototype technology and custom modifications—moves through city streets with deliberate anonymity, designed to attract minimal attention despite its advanced capabilities.
Tonight's operation has yielded valuable intelligence on multiple fronts: HYDRA's Winter Soldier connections, the ongoing conflict with Russian criminal organizations, and most significantly, SHIELD's active interest in Batman's activities. The last represents a complication I anticipated eventually but not this early in Batman's operational timeline.
I need to accelerate countermeasure development—technologies and protocols specifically designed to manage SHIELD surveillance. Their resources and reach far exceed conventional law enforcement, requiring correspondingly sophisticated evasion capabilities.
As the Batcycle navigates toward the Cave's concealed entrance, I activate secure communication with Bernard. "SHIELD is actively tracking Batman. We need to implement Countermeasure Protocol Theta immediately."
"Understood, sir," Bernard's calm voice responds through the encrypted channel. "Theta protocols initiated. May I ask the scope of their surveillance?"
"Professional team with advanced technology, including active camouflage. They anticipated Batman's operational area based on previous pattern recognition."
"Most concerning." Bernard's tone remains measured despite the implications. "I've begun signal masking for all Cave communications and initiated false electronic trail generation as per the protocol. Will you require additional measures?"
"Prepare the SHIELD intelligence package," I instruct. "We need comprehensive understanding of their organizational structure, operational methodologies, and technical capabilities beyond what's publicly known."
"Very good, sir. And may I suggest a review of your patrol patterns? If they've identified behavioral trends, alteration of established routines would seem prudent."
"Already implementing." I navigate through an abandoned subway maintenance tunnel, approaching the concealed entrance to the Cave's vehicle bay. "Also prepare full spectrum analysis of the data package I've transmitted. Priority on Winter Soldier references and these 'Phase Two Assets' mentioned in peripheral documentation."
__________________________________________________
[Nick Fury POV]
Nick Fury doesn't look up from the report spread across his desk when Maria Hill enters his office. His focus remains on the documents before him—detailed analysis of the incident at what intelligence had identified as a probable HYDRA research storage facility. Russian Bratva forces engaging in direct assault against heavily defended position. Multiple casualties, sophisticated weapons deployed by both sides, and evidence of technologies beyond conventional criminal or security applications.
And through it all, a shadow moving unseen except by Hill's specialized surveillance.
"You saw him," Fury states rather than asks, still not looking up.
"Yes, sir." Hill stands at parade rest, her posture reflecting both military background and the significance of the briefing. "Briefly, despite utilizing our most advanced camouflage systems. He detected my presence despite optimal concealment protocols."
Now Fury does look up, his single eye focusing with characteristic intensity. "Detected and evaded, according to this report. Using countermeasures specifically designed for surveillance evasion."
"Affirmative. Multi-spectral decoys, signal masking, and movement patterns suggesting extensive counter-intelligence training." Hill's expression remains professional, but there's a hint of genuine respect in her voice. "He's not an amateur playing vigilante, sir. This is someone with resources, training, and capabilities significantly beyond what initial reports suggested."
"He's good sir, very good."
Fury leans back slightly, a rare physical tell indicating authentic interest rather than mere professional attention. "And the HYDRA connection? Did he access their systems before the Russian assault?"
"Evidence suggests yes. Security feeds show terminal access consistent with data extraction, though we can't confirm what specific intelligence he obtained."
"So our bat friend is specifically targeting HYDRA operations, using technologies advanced enough to penetrate their security, while simultaneously maintaining countermeasures capable of detecting and evading SHIELD surveillance." Fury's summary hangs in the air between them. "That's not a vigilante, Hill. That's someone dangerous."
"Assessment matches my field observations, sir." Hill hesitates briefly before adding, "Permission to speak freely?"
Fury gestures his assent.
"His movement patterns, equipment utilization, and tactical decisions all suggest professional training at a level comparable to our specialized units. But his operational focus—targeting specific HYDRA facilities while avoiding collateral damage or unnecessary engagement—indicates motivations beyond typical intelligence objectives. He's pursuing something specific."
"The Winter Soldier references in the data we recovered," Fury concludes, connecting the same dots Hill has identified. "He's tracking HYDRA's enhanced asset program. The question is why, and for whom."
"Could he be working for a competing intelligence agency? Russian or Chinese counterintelligence targeting HYDRA operations?"
Fury shakes his head slightly. "Operational profile doesn't match established methodologies of any known agency. This is something else." He closes the file with deliberate movement. "Expand surveillance resources. I want coverage of all suspected HYDRA facilities within Batman's operational range. If he's hunting their operations specifically, let's use that to our advantage."
"Use him as an intelligence vector," Hill translates. "Let him lead us to HYDRA activities we haven't identified yet."
"Precisely." Fury stands, moving to the office window overlooking the Potomac. "But maintain distance protocols. Based on your encounter, he has both the technology and training to detect conventional surveillance. We observe from maximum range, gathering intelligence without engagement."
"And if direct contact becomes unavoidable?" Hill asks the question Fury has been considering since the first reports crossed his desk.
"Then we discover whether the Batman is a potential asset or a compelling threat." Fury turns back to face his senior agent. "Either way, I want to know who's behind that mask and what they know about HYDRA operations that we don't. Because nobody develops technologies and methodologies that sophisticated without a very specific purpose."
Hill accepts the directive with a crisp nod. "I'll coordinate with Coulson on expanded surveillance protocols."
"One more thing, Hill." Fury's tone shifts subtly, carrying the weight of decades of intelligence experience. "Whoever this is, they are to be taken seriously at all times. This is no Daredevil, or random ass punk playing dress up. Keep your team at maximum readiness. If this goes sideways, it goes sideways fast."
After Hill departs, Fury returns to the window, his reflection ghostlike against the darkening sky beyond.