The Death of Nick Fury

Alex teleported directly into S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, his psychic power spreading out instantly until it located Nick Fury.

The one-eyed man.

With another teleport, Alex materialized in the room where Nick Fury was stationed.

"Nick Fury," Alex's voice was devoid of emotion, cold and direct.

Nick Fury, whether in the Marvel comics or movies, epitomized cunning and intrigue. The cinematic Fury closely mirrored his comic counterpart.

"You're here," Nick Fury sighed, acknowledging the complex interplay of perspectives where neither side could claim absolute moral high ground.

Everything Fury planned and executed was in service of mankind. To the world, he was the paragon of virtue, and Mutants were viewed as the antagonists. Yet, from the Mutants' viewpoint, he was a duplicitous villain.

In reality, notions of justice were merely lofty ideals manipulated by those in power—the winners rewriting history.

Only children could see things in terms of good and evil; adults saw only allies and enemies.

Now, Nick Fury stood as an adversary.

If Alex's powers had been weaker, the narrative might have been different. Nick Fury could have fulfilled his schemes, cementing his legacy as humanity's savior while consigning Alex to the ranks of characters like Apocalypse, reviled by future generations.

But Alex's formidable strength exceeded Fury's calculations, making Fury the underdog in this confrontation.

"Yes, I'm here. Despite being adversaries, I must commend your abilities. You're quite impressive. I had assumed you would target Charles or Eric first, not me," Alex remarked, seated calmly as if discussing trivial matters rather than life-and-death struggles.

"I underestimated you. I thought you were just a Level 4 Mutant, but…" Nick Fury sighed, admitting to his miscalculation.

"I didn't anticipate it either. Otherwise, my recruitment wouldn't have been so straightforward," Alex shook his head. He doubted Nick Fury would have dared to conceive such a plan. Firstly, Alex's powers were enigmatic and rarely displayed publicly since the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962. Moreover, decades had passed, and both Charles and Eric had grown vastly stronger since then.

Secondly, Alex had deliberately maintained a low profile over the years, intervening only to protect Mutants. He even held a nominal advisory role within S.H.I.E.L.D.

Thus, Fury's audacious move caught Alex off guard. Otherwise, how could a Level 4 Mutant breach his defenses and ensnare him in an illusion if Fury hadn't made a strategic error?

It was his oversight that left him vulnerable, caught off guard by an unexpected attack that struck before he could react.

"You rely on surprises to win? It's a shame! We clearly underestimated your strength," Nick Fury remarked with a hint of helplessness, shaking his head.

Alex nodded solemnly. "That's true. If I hadn't underestimated you, I might have ended up in a much worse situation. In the grand scheme, even Nick Fury ranks among those who nearly succeeded in turning the tide. It's a game of close calls."

One had prevailed, the other faltered.

"Face your fate," Alex said, shaking his head. Despite his admiration for Fury's ruthlessness, cunning, and wit, letting him live would only encourage others to test their limits.

Nick Fury chuckled bitterly, a smile devoid of self-respect. Facing death, no one could remain composed.

Trembling, he pressed the gun against his forehead.

But Nick Fury knew today was his end, and he managed a trace of dignity in accepting it.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled the trigger.

Nick Fury collapsed to the ground, blood pooling around him.

Alex shook his head, a numb sensation settling in his chest.

In his long life, spanning nearly a century, he had developed a detached view of events. Though Nick Fury had plotted against him, Alex had only felt a fleeting anger.

Now, with Nick Fury's demise, even that anger evaporated like mist.

There were still numerous politicians to scrutinize, but they were minor players. Others could handle that. Alex now had more pressing matters at hand.

(End of this chapter)

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