Chapter Twenty-Nine: Battle in the Dead of Night (III)

Nathan retreated with remarkable decisiveness, leaving no opportunity for pursuit. The situation finally seemed to be under control.

Steve ran over to help the S.H.I.E.L.D. strike team member to his feet. Meanwhile, in the sky, Tony finally flew off under the gaze of the crowd, showing no intention of landing.

"Captain, is that the Iron Man who's been all over the news lately?"
"Do you even need to ask? He looks exactly like him."

Rumlow didn't seem particularly thrilled by the appearance of Iron Man, though he was visibly pleased that the mysterious Black Knight had been forced to retreat. He called for the other strike team members to locate the operative who had been ambushed by the Black Knight and check if he was still alive.

He turned to Steve and said, "Captain, it looks like we're in luck. Thanks to that local celebrity's help, today's mission ended quickly. We handled everything with almost no effort. We can pull out now."

"Pull out? Didn't Fury assign you other objectives?" Steve found this unbelievable. Sporadic gunfire could still be heard nearby; the skirmish was clearly not over, yet the S.H.I.E.L.D. strike team was already preparing to leave.

"Director Fury?" Rumlow smiled, seemingly aware that Steve had misunderstood something. "Fury likely only gave orders to you, Captain. We received our orders from Secretary Pierce; he didn't assign us any further tasks."

"So you're just leaving? There are still civilians here. Can't you hear the gunfire still erupting nearby?"

"Captain, listen to me. If you're dissatisfied, you can have Fury issue an order. But we have other urgent tasks to attend to. If you have no other business, I’m taking my team and moving out."

Rumlow clearly had no desire to converse further with Steve. Once the strike team recovered the body of their fallen comrade, Rumlow clapped his hands and loudly ordered his two teams to withdraw, completely ignoring Steve.

They began their retreat just as a helicopter arrived right on cue. It seemed Rumlow had called for extraction the moment he saw the Black Knight withdraw and the Smoke-Eater flee, showing no regard for Steve’s concerns.

Watching the S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives leave one by one via the helicopter’s ladder, Steve felt a mixture of conflicting emotions. He couldn't help but recall the words Fury had used to persuade him just two days ago:

"This is the S.H.I.E.L.D. that Peggy Carter helped build, an extension of the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Captain Rogers, I hope you will join us and contribute to protecting the peace of this world. Times may have changed, but what we strive for remains the same. Rogers, some things never go out of style."

He could still vividly recall Fury’s bald head as he spoke. Although Steve hadn't fully believed him—he had known what government authorities were like since he first became 'Captain America'—he knew that even if Fury had the desire to protect world peace, the organization of S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't necessarily act according to his vision.

This was proof of that.

"He doesn't seem to like me. Did I hit too hard during training?" Steve wondered about Rumlow's subtle hostility, but he quickly recentered himself. Regardless of how the times or the government changed, his mission would not change: to be himself and protect those who needed protecting.

Strapping his shield back on and putting thoughts of S.H.I.E.L.D. aside, Steve ran toward Silver Lake Park.

"There must still be civilians in the city needing evacuation. No matter what S.H.I.E.L.D.'s plans are, what I have to do remains the same."

***

"Pierce, honestly, the pact you made with the vampires is unreliable. After today's events, we have to re-evaluate the threat they pose. Did you see what happened on Staten Island? They went on a rampage without any regard for the rules. This could be considered the most shameful incident in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s history. It happened right under our noses, and we should have wiped them out long ago."

But Pierce remained unflappable as he replied to Fury.

"Fury, the World Security Council prefers to keep the New York vampires contained. They believe that keeping them in the open where they can be monitored is better than scattering them and having them cause chaos across North America. I recall you attended that meeting, didn't you?"

"I attended the meeting, but I don't recall agreeing to any covenant. Why did the strike team receive orders to protect one of the Vampire Lords? That was not part of the original agreement."

Fury looked at Pierce, knowing his old friend was under immense pressure from the Council and the American government.

"That order came directly from the Council. Believe me, Fury, I despise this as much as you do. In fact, I am currently trying to find out if they have made some sort of deal. Perhaps some individuals traded with them for those 'special rewards' vampires offer, and I’ve already made some progress. Why else do you think I’ve been keeping the strike team so busy?"

With that, Pierce handed Fury a file. "Some people within the government have made deals with the vampires. It’s not just the White House; the Pentagon is involved as well."

Fury looked at Pierce, not asking where the material came from, but simply placing it silently before him. He watched Pierce as he continued.

"What did you send Rumlow and his team to do?"

"Fury, compared to the vampires on Staten Island, we face much greater enemies. Keeping our eyes fixed solely on the vampires isn't enough. Look at this."

A few minutes later, Fury and Pierce parted ways. A red-haired agent appeared silently behind Fury.

"Natasha, how did it go?"

Natasha Romanoff walked behind Fury, whispering the results of her investigation. Clearly, she had made significant findings.

"The flow of funds between the Army and S.H.I.E.L.D. over the past few years—though they covered their tracks carefully, they still left clues. Including S.H.I.E.L.D., the military's funds were routed through several layers into two special offshore accounts in Madripoor and Sokovia. But this is just a deduction based on available intelligence. They left no evidence; those 'missing' funds exist in seemingly reasonable places. I can only say we have some phantom income. From the results, Fury, it looks like some highly covert corruption."

"Tell me about the strike team." By then, they had arrived at Fury's private office in New York. Agent Hill was currently having her subordinates check for listening devices. Seeing Fury return, she led the agents out, then returned to the office and closed the door. Since the last incident, the bald director had become quite paranoid.

"The strike team's deployments, authorization levels, mission times, and briefings are all perfectly in order. There is nothing to criticize. The global situation has indeed become safer and more peaceful due to their activities."

"I don't mean to bring this up, but are you suggesting there is a mole among us? Otherwise, why would you have Agent Romanoff investigating these things, Director?"

"That is just the worst-case scenario." Fury interrupted Hill. "I just need to confirm the situation, Hill. Nobody said anything about a mole."

After that, Fury sent Natasha back to her mission and dispatched Hill to Staten Island to coordinate the National Guard with the other strike teams. Once everyone had left, Fury finally found the time to open the file Pierce had given him to see what his old friend had been using the strike teams for.

"My dear old friend, you certainly are interested in all sorts of weapons."

The photo in Fury's hand appeared to be taken with a smartphone. The timestamp indicated it had been taken an hour ago, meaning it had taken two hours and thirty minutes to reach him and Pierce. Fury opened the holographic screen in his office, displaying the previously acquired photo of Jekutor. In the daylight, the image was much clearer.

"Where exactly did you crawl out from?"

***

The sewers of Staten Island were not as well-developed as Manhattan's, but they were sufficient for the Smoke-Eater to flee in his human form. The damage caused by the Black Knight's magic sword was difficult to heal, leaving the Smoke-Eater in agony. Dark magic excelled at draining life or inflicting wounds, but it was not suited for self-healing without a sacrifice.

The rats in the sewer died in droves along his path, their lives drained by the Smoke-Eater to restore his strength. But the support provided by the rats was limited, hardly enough for a proper recovery.

"Damn those Sword-Claws! What are they thinking? The entire plan is compromised!"

He slammed his fist against the sewer wall. The Smoke-Eater was clearly frustrated that the impulsive behavior of Sarus had ruined his plans. The furrows of anger on his face were deep enough to crush a mosquito. Of course, the mosquitoes in the sewer didn't dare approach him; only his enemies did. He had assumed his escape route was perfect; surely the Black Knight didn't know the New York sewer system better than he did.

"I thought you would choose a better escape route. Honestly, I am quite tired of these foul-smelling sewers and those chattering rats—just like you."

The Smoke-Eater's pupils dilated. Standing before him was an impossible sight: the Lord of the Sword-Claws, Sarus.

"Why are you here? You should be in Transylvania."
"My senile father is still in a grave in Transylvania. There is no meaning there, Bieber. I have greater ambitions; taking care of that stagnant little kingdom for him is meaningless."
"Is that why you came to New York and caused this mess? Do you have any idea what you've ruined?"
"Ruined? No, no, no, Bieber. Your narrow mind cannot comprehend the power I have just obtained. Soon, I will arrive in New York, and from here, I will begin my plan to conquer the world. I have received divine revelation. I am the Chosen One."

The Smoke-Eater looked at Sarus with the expression one might reserve for a fool, his face contorting through struggle and helplessness until it settled into a look of indescribable rage.

"You brat! You caused this ridiculous war because of some inexplicable ambition in your head. Do you know what the hell you've destroyed?"

Launching a war for such a laughable reason was clearly insane. The Smoke-Eater had a stomach full of things to say, but he could not utter a word. Before he could finish, his body dissipated into a dense mist, intending to flee. As a Lord of Scylla, he could not die here; he was a vital link in the rise of the vampires, a prerequisite for the entire plan to proceed.

But a flash of red magic bound him, forcing him out of his mist form and locking him in place. Sarus raised his steel blade, his eyes filled with unrestrained madness.

"I told you, Bieber, I am the Chosen One. How could you escape from a Chosen One? The power of a vampire is not even a drop in the ocean compared to this."

The Smoke-Eater finally realized the truth, but before he could speak, Sarus’s magic tore him to shreds. Sarus plunged his blade into his heart, and the light of a dying vampire illuminated the entire sewer.

Just like that, Sarus completed the first step of his plan: killing the Lord of Scylla. The war above would soon end, and his vampires would take over the assets of the Scylla Blood Covenant in New York. Everything seemed to be progressing as he had imagined.

Ignoring the noise above, Sarus left the sewer, satisfied. He knew the Smoke-Eater was dead beyond any hope of return.

With the death of the Smoke-Eater, the vampire war on Staten Island did not subside. On the contrary, with some vampires losing his restraint or realizing their Lord was dead, they became even more ambitious. This battle was destined not to end tonight; the Scylla Blood Covenant in New York would need to elect a new Lord.

However, Sarus clearly would not give those remnants of the Scylla Blood Covenant any chance.

Emerging from the sewer onto the streets of Staten Island, Sarus smashed through a clothing store, pulling out a piece of women's clothing to wipe his blade.

"Nathan, how did it go?"
"He was the last one. I wondered why he was so hard to kill. You should have told me earlier that this was the Lord of Scylla."
"I was merely testing your abilities. Excellent, I am very satisfied!"

Nathan remained silent; he clearly couldn't stand Sarus’s arrogant attitude.