015. I Think You Haven't Figured Out The Situation Yet

"Not interested."

John Doe (formerly Jiang Chen) looked Nick Fury in the eye, shaking his head with a smirk.

"You had me sleep comfortably last night, then greeted me this morning with arrows pointed at my face, only to ask me to join you after it's all said and done. S.H.I.E.L.D. sure knows how to roll out the welcome mat."

Nick Fury chuckled, as if he had anticipated the refusal. In truth, he didn't blame Black Widow for her assessment. John was indeed a promising candidate for an agent. He was a ghost—no records, no traceable information, no discernible past. It only made sense to keep him close, within S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I think I owe you an explanation," Fury began, his tone calm.

"I didn't really mean for Hawkeye to hurt you. I just wanted to see what you were made of. You weren't in any real danger."

John sighed and gave Fury a wry smile. "You don't need to sugarcoat it. The fact is, he couldn't hurt me."

Outside, Hawkeye overheard the conversation on the monitor and clenched his fist, his frustration palpable. He was not used to being humiliated, especially not by someone with zero formal training in combat or espionage.

Nick Fury ignored the tension in the air and pulled out a check from his pocket. "I believe you came here to collect the money that Black Widow owes you." He handed the check over to John. "Here, take this. And if you're willing to join S.H.I.E.L.D., you'll have a handsome salary every month."

John took the check, glancing at it nonchalantly. "It sounds tempting," he replied.

Fury nodded in agreement. "We take care of our own. Money, luxury, women—we offer it all."

But John remained unfazed, staring back at Fury with cold indifference. "I only take what's rightfully mine. Now that I've been paid, there's no reason for me to stay."

With that, he turned on his heel and started toward the door.

"You're a ghost in the system, you know," Fury called after him, his voice suddenly more serious. "S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't find any information on you. You're off the grid, technically speaking, an illegal entity. The moment you walk out that door, we'll arrest you and throw you in prison for life."

John stopped, turning slightly to glance back at Fury, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds scary," he admitted, almost playfully. "But the problem is, you can't imprison me."

Fury's smirk deepened. "You clearly haven't figured out the situation."

He gestured toward John's wrist. "Remember that bracelet Black Widow gave you? One press of a button, and you'll be knocked out cold. Then we'll haul you off, and you won't be walking anywhere."

John lifted his arm, inspecting the bracelet casually. "Oh, this?" he asked, feigning realization. Fury nodded, feeling confident in his leverage.

"I hate to break it to you, but this thing? It's 100% faulty."

Fury's face darkened with skepticism. S.H.I.E.L.D. produced top-tier tech, weapons, and equipment. Nothing went bad unless it was sabotaged. This was nonsense.

"If you don't believe me," John said, shrugging, "feel free to try."

Fury's expression tightened. He wasn't one to back down from a challenge, so he pulled out the remote device and pressed the button without hesitation.

Nothing.

The bracelet didn't even spark.

Fury's disbelief was palpable. His usual calm demeanor shifted, and a bewildered expression took over. How?

But the surprises didn't stop there. While Fury was still reeling from the bracelet malfunction, John calmly strolled over to the door and began working on the combination lock. It was one of the most secure locks in the world, developed by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s finest hackers and security experts. Cracking it was virtually impossible.

Yet within seconds, the door clicked open.

"You—" Fury stammered, words failing him.

John glanced back one last time before stepping out. The look on Fury's face was priceless, a mix of shock, frustration, and disbelief. Even Black Widow and Hawkeye, monitoring from the outside, were left speechless.

No one had ever outmaneuvered Fury like this.

Nick Fury, usually composed and always two steps ahead, had misjudged the situation completely. The man he thought was a mere "lucky civilian" had proven himself to be an enigma—completely untouchable. Fury realized in that moment that he had underestimated John. This was no ordinary man.

The psychological weight was crushing. It was as if Fury had been playing a game, thinking he held all the cards, only to discover that his opponent had been controlling the board the entire time. It was humbling, and for the first time in a long while, Fury felt genuinely outmatched.

John had walked right into S.H.I.E.L.D., evaded every trap, and left without a scratch.

Hawkeye stormed into the room, his voice filled with frustration. "Are you seriously just letting him walk away?"

Fury shook his head slowly, the regret evident on his face. "We'll deal with him later. Right now, we have bigger problems."

He gazed out the open door, sighing in frustration.

"Dammit… there goes my five million."