Melting Chapter 85: S.H.I.E.L.D named it Snake Shield... (Patreon)

Inside an apartment in Manhattan—

After receiving Barbara’s message, Fury rushed over from the division branch without delay. But by the time he arrived at the apartment, the door was locked.

He knocked. No answer.

As a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative, Nick Fury obviously wouldn’t just wait obediently outside. This place was a safe house S.H.I.E.L.D. had been quietly renting long-term. He should have a key.

Yet when Fury inserted his key:

“The lock’s changed?”

“What’s Barbara up to?!”

Fury frowned, taking a good look at the door.
They’d even changed the door itself—to some kind of sturdy alloy.

Next to the door, he found a note:

“Went out shopping, will be back in a bit.”

“Shopping?!”

Fury was stunned. He’d gotten a call, hopped in the Quinjet to come here because he thought there was important intel. Barbara had sounded cryptic on the phone—he’d assumed it was urgent. And after calling him, she just went shopping?

Fury was displeased. This behavior crossed the line!

He waited, pacing back and forth for about ten minutes. Finally, Barbara came up the stairs carrying two large bags in each hand, brimming with cheer.

“Hey, you’re here!”

She acted as though nothing were wrong, greeting him happily.

“Perfect timing—help me carry these,” she said.

Fury, scowling, took the bags. A glance inside made his face even darker.

“When we go in,” Barbara added, “wear shoe covers so you don’t dirty the floor. I just mopped.”

She had plans for that freshly cleaned floor. Swapping into a pair of fresh slippers, Barbara left Fury standing there. He noticed a pair of large men’s slippers neatly placed to one side, and his expression soured further.

Moments later, in the living room, Barbara led him to a “guest-only” couch, as though it were standard procedure. She herself sat down on a newly washed, extra-soft, upscale sofa. Fury couldn’t help but do a double-take: the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. gets the secondhand ragged sofa, while she sits on that plush, brand-new seat? He swallowed his anger.

He watched her set down two cups of plain hot water. His brow twitched.

“I don’t drink plain water,” he said.

“Uh… Director, that glass isn’t for you,” Barbara replied.

“!!! Then where’s mine?”

She gave him an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like boiled water, but I don’t have anything else right now…”

“Mother…!” Fury cursed under his breath. Even if I were an idiot, I’d see something’s off here!

He forced himself to keep calm. Barbara, apparently oblivious to his mood, spoke up:

“Let me make a quick call. Aaron should be here soon.”

She pulled out a pink phone, busied herself for a moment. Fury’s anger cooled instantly—he perked up at once, straining to listen.

“Hey, darling—when’re you coming over? Mhm, yes, I’m home already. Three minutes? Great, then I’ll swap out his water in a sec…”

Fury caught snatches of her conversation, feeling relief. So she’s reeled him in?

He winked at Barbara. “So you got him?”

She hung up and nodded. “Yes, it’s done.”

Overjoyed, Fury pressed: “Then about the intel—what do you know?”

Barbara paused, thinking about length, strength, temperature, favorite positions, angles, diameters… She nodded. “A lot!”

“True to your codename, Mockingbird!” Fury was delighted. “Let’s hear it!”

Barbara considered a second, then began: “He can vibrate, can regulate temperature… very versatile…”

Everything she said sounded suspicious to Fury. Wait, these abilities…? Doesn’t seem official.

“He can fly, teleport, and uses a pretty rough approach…”

Fury frowned. Everyone knew about the flying, teleportation, and raw force. That was hardly classified. All known stuff. He was disappointed. “That’s it?”

“That’s all I have so far,” Barbara said with a shrug.

Fury sighed. “That means he still doesn’t fully trust you.”

“He does so adore me!” Barbara retorted, offended. Abruptly, she switched to Natasha’s voice:

“He’s the strongest man on Earth… so overwhelming, it’s impossible not to surrender to him.”

Then, in yet another woman’s voice, “This is how Aaron loves me—he granted me the power to mimic all voices.”

Fury’s eyes went wide. Barbara switched a third time, now imitating Agent Hill:

“Aaron can give others superpowers, but only to the ones closest to him.”

So that’s the power of a “god,” Fury thought with deep unease… But actually, that might be good. If we can place more operatives around him, we might get free superpowers.

He started daydreaming: We build a small personal squad of loyal super-beings. That beats scouring for questionable criminals with messy backgrounds…

Given that, he could partly forgive Barbara’s unprofessional attitude. If her “love” for Aaron was genuine, a normal man wouldn’t want his own girlfriend offering a sweet face to another guy—especially a one-eyed black man. Unless that was his thing.

Fury rubbed his bare scalp, now more sympathetic to Barbara’s situation. Then, remembering how he’d demanded certain intel from her… I better watch myself. He coughed and changed his tone:

“Agent Morse, I came mainly on behalf of your cousin’s request.”

Barbara blinked. “My cousin…?”

“Yes, your cousin Sharon Carter. Her academic performance is subpar. She barely graduated college and heard you’ve got a decent setup in New York. She’s hoping to come here for a fresh start.”

Barbara was confused. She didn’t recall having a cousin named Sharon Carter, only Peggy Carter.

She guessed Fury was just spinning a new plan. He’s definitely up to something. As a top agent, even if she “started late,” she’d finished S.H.I.E.L.D.’s training with excellent marks.

Despite the mental slack from all the “intimacy” with Aaron, she could still quickly figure it out. She considered refusing, but then changed her mind—maybe it’d come in handy.

Serious now, she said, “I do have a specialized opening. But the conditions are strict. The candidate must be ‘spotless’ and ‘healthy,’ with no questionable habits.” She put extra emphasis on “spotless” and “healthy.”

Fury took the hint. Surely she’s referencing the preferences of certain men. Actually, many men prefer that. And in the U.S., it’s rarer. Possibly they prefer more easygoing women.

“Fine. I’ve learned that Ms. Carter has a strong sense of discipline, she’s devoutly Christian…” he bluffed. If Sharon wasn’t, she could pretend.

Barbara brightened. “That’s perfect, then. You know, she and I haven’t—”

“—seen each other in about twenty-two years,” Fury finished. “She’s 26 now.”

Barbara thought, So we’ve only “met” once? Good enough. She nodded. “Then I can’t wait to see my dear cousin. I’ll speak to my sweetheart about it.”

Fury was satisfied. Barbara, you’re reliable indeed. He set aside his annoyance at her earlier attitude. Meanwhile, Barbara mentally checked the time. Three minutes. He’ll be here soon…

Sure enough, Aaron stepped in through a swirl of dark energy. “Darling!” Barbara instantly beamed, latching onto him as they sat on the plush new sofa. She slid off his shoes and replaced them with slippers. Fury watched, his brow quivering with annoyance. She’s acting that subservient? She’s obviously one of a harem. So be it. She’s too deeply in…

“Mr. Aaron, hello,” Fury forced a polite greeting.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury, right?” Aaron replied. “I happen to need to see you. About that matter we discussed—so far, you haven’t answered. Maybe I ought to talk to the President about whether S.H.I.E.L.D. is still worth keeping around.” He gave a half-laugh. “I haven’t even confronted you over the Hulk-Abomination fiasco. You’re heading for a meltdown that dwarfs 9/11 if you’re not careful.”

Fury realized Aaron was indeed here to corner him about letting him “pick from S.H.I.E.L.D.” He’d tried to stall, hoping to put it off indefinitely. But with Barbara’s behavior, that was obviously done. He swallowed, ignoring that uneasy feeling. “In that case… we can see what’s possible. I can’t personally—”

“Hang on, do you think I’m negotiating?” Aaron cut in icily.

Fury scowled, about to retort, but his phone rang. He stiffened, suspecting more trouble. Sure enough:

“Nick Fury! Does S.H.I.E.L.D. want to remain operational? Have you been ignoring me? Maybe I should let Aaron do your job. Hulk and Abomination cost us plenty—don’t you push me. Or do you want me to dismiss you tomorrow?!”

The President launched into a tirade. S.H.I.E.L.D. might stand above the CIA or FBI, but they answered directly to the President. Anger him enough, and Fury was out.

Fury forced a conciliatory tone. “Understood, Mr. President—I agree,” he managed. Aaron snorted. Now you know what’s up…

Fury hung up, feeling pinned. Aaron eyed him. “Nick Fury, didn’t you say your training wouldn’t allow you to do something like this? Putting ‘national interest’ above everything else?”

Fury swallowed down retorts. “But you’re America’s biggest star, the shining hope,” he said lamely. God, kill me. This man’s unstoppable. “So… tomorrow, then?” Aaron pressed. Fury nodded stiffly. He had no choice. If the President demanded it, that was that.

“You’d wanted an exchange,” Fury ventured. “I do have some intel you might want… If we can get something else in return—”

“Pity. You’ll have to offer something else now,” Aaron said coldly. Fury inhaled, trying for a friendly tone:

“Mr. Aaron, let me propose—”

“Hold on.” Aaron casually popped a grape Barbara offered him, then snapped his fingers to produce a small mirror facing Fury. “Lighten up. I liked that rebellious attitude of yours better.”

Fury’s face kept twitching. He realized he’d lost track of how many times his expression had changed in the last half hour. This is the worst day of my career. This damned jerk…!

No sense losing it. I’m the King of Spies. I can’t let him break me so easily, he told himself. At least they had Barbara embedded. She might glean something. That was presumably how she acted so close to him. Fury forced a calmer expression, adopting his usual defiant aura but speaking humbly: “All right, Mr. Aaron, what do you want? People or items? If you want to pick out a few, we’ll comply.”

“There we go.” Aaron grinned. Give me lip, get slapped. “So that’s settled. If something catches my eye, you’ll hand it over.”

Fury’s alarm bells rang. We’re stepping straight into a trap?! I, the so-called King of Spies, have been set up. He wanted to backtrack, but then Aaron continued:

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has a traitor.”

“Impossible!” Fury snapped reflexively, but an image of the agent forging a certain ID for Aaron popped into his head. “Are you talking about the expo infiltration—Blonsky?”

“Not that. The stuff that happened after,” Aaron said. Fury’s brows knitted. “We’re still investigating, using our best agents. We’ll have results soon. It doesn’t prove anything yet.”

Aaron chuckled, Sure. Let them “investigate themselves.”

He said, “Let me guess: final conclusion, it’s all the Ten Rings. Right?”

Fury’s frown deepened.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t fitting. Maybe you should rename it—something simpler, easier to understand.”

Fury tried, “That name was recommended by Tony Stark—an ‘acronym that stands for strategic, etc.’ Why would we rename it?”

Aaron’s lips curled. “I propose you rename it Snake Shield. Has a ring to it. Right?”

“Huh??!” Fury gaped.