“An aircraft from the agency?”

Rowan relaxed slightly at the mention of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s jets, though he didn’t put away the Kroluminum dagger still hovering by his side.

To be honest, aside from strategic-level weapons like nuclear bombs, he didn’t consider conventional firearms a threat anymore.

Take that jet tailing them it would only take a single flying blade to bring it down.

Even the missiles onboard posed little danger. He could detonate them from a safe distance using telekinetic blades.

“Wait… Hill, you don’t think they’re mistaking us for UFOs, do you?” Natasha, initially relieved, tensed up again as the thought occurred to her.

“Uh…” Hill’s expression twisted awkwardly.

Right. None of them were carrying communication devices. There was no way to confirm their identities.

“Don’t worry. They can’t hurt us,” Rowan said calmly.

If the jets intended to attack, they would’ve launched tracking missiles from a distance. But to someone with telekinetic powers like his, homing missiles were little more than toys.

As for machine gun fire at close range? Utterly ineffective. His telekinetic shield could stop bullets and even send them back.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Hill and Natasha both exhaled in unison.

…

“Sir, I’ve got visual three figures ahead!”

Inside the modified Quinjet, the pilot radioed to Nick Fury as three dark silhouettes came into view.

“Motherfu—are you kidding me?” Fury muttered, face darkening further as he squinted at the humanoid shapes.

His first instinct was: someone’s been making knock-offs of Tony Stark’s Iron Man suit.

“Sir, should we approach? They may be armed,” the pilot asked cautiously.

“Who do you think I am? Get closer!” Fury snapped, full of authority.

This particular jet had been specially reinforced its defenses solid, its weaponry top-of-the-line. He doubted that three bootleg suits could pose any real threat.

Besides, this was New York airspace. Who would dare attack S.H.I.E.L.D. here? They’d have a death wish.

“Yes, sir.”

The pilot, swallowing his nerves, flew the jet closer to the trio.

Soon, the Quinjet approached the left flank of Rowan and the others.

“I want to see which moron managed to reverse-engineer a suit so fast… Can’t be those idiots at Hammer Tech, right?” Fury grumbled as he peered closer.

The moonlight shone brightly now, casting the figures in clear relief. Fury tilted his head and froze.

His mouth dropped open. His one good eye widened in disbelief.

“What the hell…”

He rubbed his eye, wondering if it was an illusion.

“Natasha?”

“Hill?”

His voice cracked with confusion as the unmistakable forms of his own agents came into view.

Rowan, Hill, and Natasha saw the bald head in the cockpit at the same time. Their expressions were priceless.

“Fury?” Rowan muttered, speechless.

He had been about to complain about someone chasing them around in the middle of the night with a warplane only to realize it was none other than Fury himself.

Hill looked equally awkward.

Caught speeding in mid-air by her boss while wearing pajamas and a bulletproof vest wasn’t the kind of performance review she wanted.

Natasha’s expression was even more complicated.

Fury had come looking for her.

She was supposed to report in after finishing her last mission. Instead of heading back to headquarters, she had gone straight to the New York branch.

She’d told Fury over the phone she was mentally drained after two months undercover and needed to rest at home asking him to come to her for the debrief.

Now? Busted.

For a full two minutes, they just stared at each other Fury’s jet hovering midair, Rowan and the women suspended effortlessly beside it.

Finally, Fury’s face darkened as he motioned for them to return to base.

Rowan rolled his eyes at the gesture.

He floated closer to the cockpit window, stared at Fury, and casually extended his middle finger. His lips mouthed clearly: “Fuck you.”

Then, with a flick of thought, he spun around and took off with Hill and Natasha trailing behind graceful as falling feathers.

“???”

Fury blinked rapidly, stunned by the clear lip-read insult.

Before he could react, the trio had vanished into the night.

“Uh… sir, should we pursue?” the pilot asked, just as confused.

“Pursue my ass! Get us back to the base!” Fury barked.

“Yes, sir.”

The jet cut across the sky toward S.H.I.E.L.D.’s New York division.

Fury closed his notebook, a glimmer of intensity in his remaining eye.

None of the three had any flight gear.

No suits, no boosters nothing.

Hill and Natasha were wearing pajamas under bulletproof vests.

So how had they flown?

Fury’s pulse quickened.

Powers? Magic?

It probably had nothing to do with Hill or Natasha. All signs pointed to Rowan.

Fury recalled a report from a few days ago Hill had mentioned Rowan training with a so-called “martial artist.”

He now felt certain Rowan had acquired some kind of superhuman ability.

“A martial artist… who can fly?”

The revelation hit him like a tidal wave.

He was reminded of the intelligence file Agent Coulson had sent him earlier that Thor, the god from Asgard, could also fly. But he relied on his enchanted hammer, Mjölnir.

“Even Thor needs a weapon to fly, and Rowan…?”

Fury’s mind reeled.

Rowan didn’t just fly he carried two others with him.

Such power was extraordinary.

A vivid memory flashed before Fury’s eyes: a glowing woman, soaring into space.

If Rowan reached that level of strength, his Avengers Initiative might finally have the foundation it needed.

That thought electrified him.

For a long time, Fury had struggled with one major question: who would lead the Avengers?

His goal was to bring together a group of extraordinary individuals to respond to global crises.

But those individuals? All problematic.

Without a unifying leader to command respect, the Avengers could easily implode.

He had always thought Steve Rogers had the right character but lacked the raw power. A shield might be fine in WWII, but aliens? Not likely.

Tony Stark was brilliant, but too arrogant and unstable.

Bruce Banner had the strength but zero control. Not captain material.

Hawkeye and Natasha? Skilled, but not strong enough.

Fury had planned to wait searching for the right leader.

But the Asgardians’ arrival forced his hand.

Now, seeing Rowan had opened his eyes.

He had assumed Rowan’s strength was comparable to Captain America’s but this? Flying unaided, shielding two agents?

Hill had hinted his powers were still evolving.

Clever, strategic, powerful, with room to grow Rowan checked every box.

Except one.

Fury rubbed his temple, remembering the middle finger and “fuck you.”

This guy had a bit of a rebellious streak.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep