Nathan withdrew decisively, not giving anyone a chance to pursue. It seemed the situation was finally under control.
Steve rushed over to help up the S.H.I.E.L.D. Special Operations agent. Meanwhile, high above, Tony took off under everyone's watchful gaze, clearly with no intention of landing.
"Captain, isn't that the Iron Man everyone's been talking about on the news lately?"
"Do you even need to ask me? He looks exactly like him."
Rumlow, seeing Iron Man, didn't look particularly excited, but he was clearly pleased that the mysterious and unpredictable Black Knight had been forced back. He called the other Special Operations agents over to find the agent who had been ambushed by the Black Knight and check if he was still alive.
At the same time, he said to Steve, "Captain, looks like our luck's not so bad. Thanks to that celebrity, today's mission wrapped up quickly. We barely had to lift a finger. Now we can pack up and go home."
"Wrap up? Didn't Fury assign you any other missions?" Steve was incredulous; sporadic gunfire could still be heard nearby, so the fighting was clearly not over, and yet S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Special Operations agents were about to pull out.
"Director Fury?"
Rumlow smirked, as if he knew Steve had misunderstood something. He spoke up.
"Fury should have only given you orders, Captain. We came on orders from Secretary Pierce. He didn't give us any follow-up assignments."
"So you're just leaving? There are still civilians out there—can't you hear the gunfire?"
"Captain, listen to me. If you're not satisfied, have Fury give us orders. But we have other urgent assignments to handle. Unless there's anything else, I'm taking my team and leaving."
Rumlow obviously didn't want to argue. Once the Special Operations agents found the body of the teammate who had been killed at the start, Rumlow clapped his hands, loudly ordered the two teams to withdraw, and ignored Steve completely.
They began to pull out. Right then, a helicopter arrived on the scene. It seemed Rumlow had called for extraction as soon as he saw the Black Knight leave and the Smoker escape, without sparing a thought for Steve's feelings.
Steve watched the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents climbing the rope ladders from the helicopter, feeling a complex swirl of emotions. He couldn't help but recall what Fury had said to persuade him just a few days ago.
"This is S.H.I.E.L.D., an organization founded by Ms. Peggy herself, an extension of the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Captain Rogers, I hope you'll join us, and do your part to help keep the world at peace.
Times may have changed, but what we pursue never does, Rogers. Some things are timeless."
Fury's bald head was still vivid in his mind. Steve didn't put much stock in Fury's words. He'd known what government agencies were like ever since he first became Captain America.
Even if Fury truly wanted to protect world peace, S.H.I.E.L.D. as an organization might not always act according to his ideals.
This was one of those times.
"Is it because I hit too hard during training that he doesn't like me?"
Steve was puzzled by Rumlow's faint hostility, but quickly got his head back in the game. No matter how times or governments changed, his mission wouldn't. He was there to protect those who needed it.
He slung his shield back onto his arm and put thoughts of S.H.I.E.L.D. aside, running toward Silver Lake Park.
"There have to be civilians left in the city who still need help evacuating. No matter what S.H.I.E.L.D. does, my job never changes."
"Pierce, to be honest, that deal you made with the vampires isn't reliable. After today, we're going to have to reassess the threat they pose.
Did you see what happened on Staten Island? When they go crazy, they play by no rules. This is, without a doubt, the most humiliating incident in S.H.I.E.L.D. history—because it all happened right under our noses. We should have wiped them out long ago."
But Pierce responded to Fury without missing a beat.
"Fury, the Security Council wants to keep the vampires in New York. They think it's easier to monitor them in the open than to smash them and let them scatter all over North America.
I remember you were at that meeting too, right?"
"I was at the meeting, but I don't recall any kind of alliance being formed. Why did the Special Operations team get orders to protect one of the vampire lords? That wasn't what was decided in that meeting."
Fury eyed Pierce. He knew his old friend was under plenty of pressure from both the Council and the U.S. government.
"These are direct orders from the Council, not me. Believe me, Fury, I hate this as much as you do. I'm actually investigating whether someone made a deal with the vampires for certain... special rewards. And I've already made some progress.
Otherwise, what do you think I've been keeping the Special Operations team busy with?"
With that, Pierce handed Fury a dossier.
"There are people in the government who've made deals with the vampires. Not just in the White House—Pentagon brass are involved, too."
Fury didn't ask where the materials came from. He just set them aside and watched as Pierce continued.
"So, why did you have Rumlow and his team pull out?"
"Fury, compared to the vampires on Staten Island, we have far more dangerous enemies to worry about. We can't just focus on the vampires.
Take a look at this."
A few minutes later, Fury and Pierce went their separate ways, and a red-haired agent quietly fell in behind Fury.
"Natasha, how'd it go?"
Natasha Romanoff followed Fury, reporting her findings in a low voice—she had clearly gotten results.
"In recent years, Army and S.H.I.E.L.D. funds have been shuffled through a complex web of transactions, but a few loose threads still show up.
After several layers of transfers, the money winds up in two special offshore accounts in Madripoor and Sokovia. But that's just based on the intel we have right now.
There's no hard evidence—the 'disappeared' funds are all accounted for, on paper.
All I can say is, we've found some ghost income, Fury. It looks like some pretty secretive corruption."
"Tell me about the Special Operations team." By now, they'd made their way to Fury's private office in New York, where Agent Hill and her people were already sweeping for bugs.
When Hill saw Fury return, she left with a few agents, then came back and shut the door.
Ever since the last incident, the bald director had become pretty paranoid.
"All Special Operations team deployments, authorizations, sortie times, and mission briefs are rock solid.
On a global scale, things are safer and more peaceful because of the team's activities."
"I hate to bring this up, but are you suggesting there's a mole in our ranks? Is that why you have Agent Romanoff investigating this?"
"That's just a worst-case scenario," Fury interrupted her.
"I just need to double-check the facts, Hill. No one's said anything about a mole."
After that, Fury sent Natasha back out on her assignment, and Hill was dispatched to Staten Island to coordinate other teams to support the National Guard there.
Once everyone was gone, Fury finally had a moment to look over the intel Pierce had handed him and see what his old friend was up to with all these Special Operations team deployments.
"My dear old friend, you really do have an interest in every kind of weapon."
The photos in Fury's hands looked like they'd been taken with a cell phone. The timestamp showed they were snapped an hour earlier, meaning by the time Fury and Pierce got them, two and a half hours had already passed.
Nick Fury opened up his office's holographic screen, displaying a previously acquired photo of Jekyll. In daylight, the image was much clearer.
"Just where did you come from?"
The sewers on Staten Island weren't as extensive as Manhattan's, but they were more than enough for the Smoker to revert to his human form and make his escape. The Black Knight's magical longsword had left wounds that were tough to heal, which left the Smoker in rough shape.
Dark magic specializes in draining others' life force or dealing damage, but it's not good for healing without a proper sacrifice.
Along the way, rats in the sewers dropped dead in droves, their life force sucked dry by the Smoker to restore his strength.
But rats could only provide so much—the recovery was pitiful.
"Damn those Swordclaws, what are they thinking? This whole plan's been thrown off."
He slammed a fist into the sewer wall, his face contorted with fury at how Sarus's impulsiveness had ruined everything.
Of course, the mosquitoes in the sewers wouldn't come near him. Only his enemies would. He thought his escape route was flawless—there was no way the Black Knight could know the New York sewers better than him.
"I thought you'd pick a smarter direction to run. Honestly, I'm sick of these filthy sewers and all these squeaking rats—just like you."
The Smoker's pupils contracted—the person standing before him was none other than Sarus, lord of the Swordclaws.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Tranvasia?"
"My senile father is still in his grave back in Tranvasia. There's nothing for me there. Bieber, I have bigger ambitions now. Looking after that tiny, stagnant kingdom is pointless."
"So this is why you came to New York and stirred up all this chaos? Do you have any idea what you've ruined?"
"Ruined? No, no, Bieber. Your narrow mind can't understand the power I've just received. Soon I'll descend upon New York, launching my conquest of the world from right here. I've received divine revelation—I'm the Chosen One now."
The Smoker looked at Sarus like he was crazy, his face torn between struggle, helplessness, and finally, a rage he could barely put into words.
"You arrogant brat! Because of your ridiculous ambitions, you've started this farce of a war. Do you even realize what you've destroyed?"
Waging war for such a ridiculous reason was beyond comprehension. The Smoker had a torrent of words to unleash, but couldn't get them out.
Before he could finish, his body turned to mist, ready to make his escape. As the lord of Skula, he couldn't die here—not when the vampires' rise depended on him.
That was the only way the whole plan could move forward.
But a surge of crimson magic locked him in place, dispelling his mist form and binding him where he stood. Sarus raised his steel blade, eyes blazing with madness.
"I told you, Bieber, I'm the Chosen One. How could you possibly escape from someone chosen by a god? A vampire's power isn't even a drop in the bucket compared to this."
It was then that the Smoker realized what was happening, but before he could say anything more, Sarus's magic ripped him apart, and the steel blade pierced his heart. The vampire's dying flare lit up the whole sewer.
Just like that, Sarus completed the first stage of his plan by killing the lord of Skula. The war aboveground would soon be over, with his own vampires taking over Skula's assets in New York—everything was going according to plan.
Sarus left the noise of the city behind and climbed up from the sewers, pleased with himself, certain that the Smoker was dead for good.
With the Smoker gone, the vampire war on Staten Island didn't die down; if anything, the vampires grew even bolder now that their leash was gone, or perhaps they'd learned their lord was dead.
This battle wasn't going to end tonight. The Skula Blood Covenant in New York would have to pick a new leader.
But Sarus clearly wasn't planning to give the surviving Skula vampires that chance.
Coming up from the sewers onto Staten Island, Sarus smashed his way into a clothing store, grabbing a woman's outfit to wipe the blood from his blade.
"Nathan, how'd it go?"
"He was the last one. No wonder he was so hard to kill—you should have told me he was the lord of Skula."
"I was just testing your skills. Very good—you didn't disappoint."
Nathan said nothing. He clearly couldn't stand Sarus's arrogance...