(I had planned for several short Chapters Labeled The Files, but I put them together. So please excuse how some of the paragraphs feel like a definitive ending for a chapter)
Albedo sat slumped over his work chair, the faint hum of the Sanctum's advanced systems buzzing around him. The holographic display in front of him flickered faintly, still churning through lines of encrypted SHIELD data. His breathing was steady but shallow, a telltale sign he had fallen asleep at his post. His arms rested against the console, and a half-finished mug of cold coffee sat nearby.
A soft knock echoed through the quiet room, followed by the sound of a door creaking open. Polaris stepped inside, carrying a tray with a plate of food and a steaming cup of fresh coffee. She paused, taking in the sight of Albedo slumped in his chair, and sighed.
"Of course," she muttered to herself, walking over to him. "Working himself into the ground again."
She set the tray on the desk beside him and lightly tapped his shoulder. "Albedo. Hey, wake up."
Albedo stirred, blinking groggily as he sat up straight, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"Late enough for you to need this," Polaris said, handing him the coffee. "And this." She gestured toward the tray, which held scrambled eggs, toast, and a small assortment of fruit.
He glanced at the food, then at Polaris, his expression wary. "I don't recall asking for breakfast in bed."
She rolled her eyes, pulling up a nearby chair and sitting down. "It's not a luxury service, genius. You've been at this for hours—again. If someone doesn't force you to eat, you'll probably starve."
Albedo took a sip of the coffee, the warmth slowly waking him up. "I didn't realize I had a babysitter."
"You don't," she shot back, a small smirk on her face. "But you do have teammates. And whether you like it or not, we're looking out for you."
He sighed, picking up the fork and reluctantly taking a bite of the eggs. "I suppose I should thank you."
Polaris shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "Don't mention it. So, what's the status on all this data?"
"It's stubborn," he admitted, gesturing toward the screen. "SHIELD's encryption is no joke. I've been running decryption algorithms all night, but it's still—"
A sudden yawn interrupted him, and Polaris chuckled. "Still taking its sweet time, huh? Maybe that's a sign you should let the computer do its thing and actually get some rest."
Albedo shook his head, setting the fork down. "We don't have the luxury of time, Lorna. Every moment we wait, The Maker gets closer to solidifying his control."
"I get that," she said, her tone softening. "But you're not going to do anyone any good if you burn out. What happened last night—us relaxing together—that's important too."
He frowned, looking down at the coffee in his hands. "I… I'm not used to this. Relying on others. Allowing myself to… let go."
Polaris gave him a small, understanding smile. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one who's had to adjust. None of us signed up for this fight, but here we are. Together. And we've got your back, whether you like it or not."
Albedo looked at her, her sincerity disarming him. He nodded slowly, taking another sip of coffee. "Thank you, Lorna. For everything."
"Don't get all sentimental on me," she teased, crossing her arms. "I'm just here to make sure you don't keel over."
Before he could respond, the computer let out a loud ding. Both of them turned to the screen, where the decryption process had finally completed. The holographic display shifted, revealing a slew of unlocked files and documents.
Polaris raised an eyebrow. "Looks like breakfast is over. What do we have?"
Albedo leaned forward, his exhaustion forgotten as his fingers flew across the controls, pulling up the newly accessible information. "Let's find out."
The decrypted files opened with a series of folder icons and labeled documents, but what immediately caught Albedo's attention was a folder titled "FURY: CONFIDENTIAL." Within it was a collection of video logs, each dated and marked with a level of urgency. Albedo tapped the first file, and the holographic display came to life.
The image of Nick Fury appeared—a younger, sharp-eyed version of the man who once served as SHIELD's Deputy Director. He sat in what looked like a secure, dimly lit office, leaning forward toward the camera. The faint hum of machinery and the occasional beep of a monitor could be heard in the background. His expression was serious, but there was a subtle weariness in his eyes.
"This is Nick Fury," he began, his voice steady but with an edge of frustration. "Journal entry, July 12th. I'm recording this for my own sanity, mostly, but if it ever sees the light of day, let it serve as proof that I tried."
Albedo leaned in, his crimson eyes narrowing. Polaris, sitting beside him, crossed her arms, her full attention on the screen.
Fury continued, gesturing vaguely as if trying to organize his thoughts. "The Maker—this supposed genius, savior, and leader. On paper, the man is untouchable. His mind, his inventions, his plans—they've all been the foundation of SHIELD's dominance for decades. People worship him like he's some kind of god."
Fury's lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned back in his chair, staring directly at the camera. "But I've been around long enough to know that no one—no one—is that clean. You don't get to where he is without stepping on a few necks, and I've got a bad feeling about whose necks he's stepping on."
Polaris glanced at Albedo. "He doesn't sound like someone who trusted The Maker."
"Smart man," Albedo replied, his gaze fixed on the screen.
Fury's voice lowered slightly, his tone more personal. "At first, it was little things. Projects that didn't quite add up, orders that came down without explanation. But the more I dug, the more I started to see the cracks. The Maker doesn't care about people. He doesn't care about SHIELD. Hell, I'm not even sure he cares about this planet. Everything he does—it's all about control."
Fury leaned forward again, his expression darkening. "And here's the kicker—no one will believe me. You try questioning the golden boy, and suddenly you're the one with the problem. I've been sidelined, dismissed, told to 'focus on the mission.' But I'm telling you, there's something wrong here. Something big."
He sighed, running a hand over his head. "I don't know how deep this goes yet, but I'm not giving up. I've got a few leads—things that don't sit right about the Chicago incident and some of those mutant programs. If I'm right… we're all in trouble."
The recording ended abruptly, the screen flickering back to the file menu. Polaris exhaled, her expression troubled. "So Fury was onto him. And if he's the one running SHIELD's operations… no wonder the Maker wanted him out of the way."
Albedo nodded, his mind racing. "This confirms what we suspected. The Maker's image is built on lies, and Fury knew it. But if these are just his initial doubts, I need to see how far this goes."
Without hesitation, he clicked on the next entry, ready to delve deeper into Fury's warnings.
The next file began to play, and Nick Fury's face appeared on the screen, his expression sharper and more troubled than before. This time, the date in the corner of the video indicated it had been recorded nearly a year after his initial entry. Fury sat rigid in his chair, the glow of his holographic display casting shadows across his face.
"This is Nick Fury," he began, his voice steady but filled with tension. "Journal entry, March 3rd. I've been investigating the incident that turned Magneto into the so-called Mutant Messiah—the one where Charles Xavier was supposedly lost to Apocalypse. The official story is clean, too clean. And like everything else around The Maker, the truth is buried under a mountain of lies."
He tapped a key offscreen, and a series of holographic files appeared beside him. Each was labeled with cold, clinical names like "OPERATION: PHARAOH," "HOST RESOLUTION," and, most curiously, "ONSLAUGHT." Fury gestured toward the files as he spoke.
"The official version is this," Fury said, his tone bitter. "Apocalypse, that ancient mutant nightmare, came back from whatever rock he was hiding under. But this time, he didn't come in his own body. No, he took Charles Xavier as his host. SHIELD, The Maker, Magneto—they all worked together to try and stop him. In the end, Magneto was the one who put him down, killing Apocalypse while he was still in Xavier's body. A tragedy, right? Xavier gone, Magneto rising to fill the void, and mutants rallying behind him as their new leader."
Polaris stiffened, her eyes fixed on the screen. "That's the story I was told."
"Not just you," Albedo murmured. "Everyone was told that."
Fury leaned forward, his voice lowering. "But the truth? It's uglier. Magneto didn't kill Apocalypse. He defeated him, sure—but instead of destroying him, he captured him. Why? Because The Maker promised him a way to save Xavier."
The screen flickered, showing a heavily redacted document labeled "PROJECT ONSLAUGHT." Fury's voice grew harsher. "This file here—'ONSLAUGHT'—proves that Apocalypse is still alive. The Maker has him locked away somewhere, promising Magneto he's working on a way to extract Xavier's consciousness from Apocalypse's body. It's a carrot on a stick, and Magneto's been chasing it ever since."
Jean's breath hitched, her hand covering her mouth. "Charles… he might still be alive?"
"That's why Magneto's been so loyal to The Maker," Polaris said, her voice trembling with anger. "He thinks he's saving Charles."
Fury's voice carried on, colder now. "But let's be clear: The Maker doesn't give a damn about saving Xavier. He's keeping Apocalypse for a reason, and it's not altruistic. That's where this 'ONSLAUGHT' project comes in. I don't have all the details yet, but it's big. Apocalypse's power, Xavier's mind… something's cooking, and it's not good."
The video paused as Fury leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "If anyone finds these logs, know this: the truth is dangerous. The Maker has built his empire on secrets, manipulation, and half-truths. Magneto's just another pawn in his game, and if we don't stop him, we're all going to pay the price."
The file ended abruptly, leaving the room in heavy silence. Polaris's magnetic field flared faintly around her, betraying her rising anger. "He's been lying to us this whole time. Using us."
"More than that," Albedo said, his voice sharp. "If what Fury says is true, The Maker isn't just controlling mutants—he's holding the most dangerous mutant in history as a tool for something even worse."
Jean shook her head, disbelief and hope warring in her expression. "If Xavier is still in there… we have to find a way to save him."
Albedo nodded, his expression grim. "First, we need to find out where Apocalypse is being kept. And for that, we'll need to dig deeper into these files." He turned back to the console, his resolve hardening. "Fury left us the breadcrumbs. Now it's up to us to follow them."
The hum of the Sanctum grew louder as more of Albedo's team filtered into the room, drawn by the tense energy surrounding the decrypted files. Jean, Thor, and Scarlet Spider joined Polaris and Albedo, each wearing varying expressions of curiosity and concern.
"What's going on?" Scarlet Spider asked, leaning casually against the doorframe but eyeing the holographic display with interest.
"Nick Fury," Polaris answered, her voice tight. "Turns out he was looking into The Maker and his whole operation. These are his personal recordings."
Jean frowned, stepping closer. "He must've known something critical if he bothered to record all of this."
"We're about to find out," Albedo said, his voice sharp as he queued up the next file.
The image of Nick Fury appeared once more, the date indicating it was only weeks after his last recording. This time, he looked more worn, as if the weight of his discoveries had begun to take a toll. Behind him, the faint sound of a fan hummed, and the lighting in his office was dimmer.
"This is Nick Fury," he began, his voice steadier than his appearance suggested. "Journal entry, March 20th. I've come across something big—something that could unravel everything The Maker has built. But it's dangerous. If anyone's watching this after I'm gone, know that this isn't paranoia. It's real."
Fury tapped a key offscreen, and a new folder labeled "COUNCIL FILE: ILLUMINATI" appeared beside him. He gestured toward the holographic display, which showed a list of names accompanied by redacted profiles.
"This," Fury said, his tone heavy, "is what they don't want you to know. The Maker doesn't act alone. He's part of a secret council—a group of powerful individuals who've been quietly pulling the strings behind the scenes for decades. They call themselves the Illuminati."
The room went silent as the team absorbed the weight of his words. Thor crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. "Illuminati? A shadow council? It reeks of manipulation."
Scarlet Spider let out a low whistle. "You mean all those conspiracy nuts were onto something?"
"Not exactly," Albedo muttered, leaning forward. "This isn't folklore. This is deliberate, calculated control."
Fury's image continued, his voice lowering as he spoke. "The Maker's one of them, but he's not the only one. They're the heads of nations, industries, and even entire factions. Each of them controls a piece of the puzzle, and together they shape the world to fit their agenda."
The holographic display shifted, showing blurry images of a meeting room. Shadowy figures sat around a long table, their faces obscured, but their presence radiated authority. Fury's voice grew darker.
"I don't know the full extent of their plan yet, but I've seen enough to know it's not about peace or progress. It's about control. They've been orchestrating wars, economic collapses, and even mutant conflicts to serve their ends. Every 'crisis' we've faced? They had a hand in it."
Jean's jaw tightened, her voice shaking slightly. "They've been playing with people's lives, treating us like chess pieces."
Polaris clenched her fists, the faint hum of her magnetic field rising. "And The Maker's right in the middle of it."
Fury tapped another key, and a single phrase appeared on the screen: "THE GRAND DESIGN." He leaned closer to the camera, his face grave.
"They've got something big planned. Something they're calling the Grand Design. I don't know all the details yet, but it involves mutants, enhanced beings, and global infrastructure. Whatever it is, it's going to change everything—and not for the better."
Scarlet Spider rubbed the back of his neck, his usually light tone gone. "So this isn't just about The Maker. It's about an entire system working behind the scenes."
Fury's recording continued, his voice growing softer. "I'm going to keep digging, but I don't know how much longer I can stay under the radar. If I disappear… you'll know why."
The screen went dark, and the room fell silent. The weight of Fury's words hung heavy in the air.
Thor broke the silence, his voice filled with grim determination. "If this council is as powerful as Fury claims, then The Maker is only one piece of the puzzle."
Jean nodded, her expression resolute. "We need to find out more about this Illuminati. If they're behind all of this, taking down The Maker won't be enough."
Albedo's eyes narrowed as he stared at the blank screen. "Fury left us breadcrumbs, but we'll need more than that. If we want to stop this Grand Design, we'll need to uncover every piece of their plan."
Polaris glanced at him, her tone both wary and hopeful. "You think we can?"
"We don't have a choice," Albedo replied, his voice firm. "This isn't just about fighting The Maker anymore. It's about tearing down the system that keeps people like him in power."
The screen flickered as Fury's image filled the display again, but this time his face was consumed with rage. His calm demeanor from earlier recordings was completely gone, replaced by a man seething with frustration and anger. He leaned forward, gripping the edges of his desk, his voice sharp and cutting.
"This is Nick Fury," he said, his voice barely controlled. "Journal entry, April 10th. I've spent the last few weeks pulling threads, piecing together how the Civil War really started. And let me tell you—this wasn't a tragedy of circumstance or a clash of ideals. It was manufactured. Every piece of it was orchestrated by The Maker."
The team stood silently, watching the display with grim expressions. They knew the story by now, but hearing Fury's firsthand account gave it a weight that couldn't be ignored.
"The first step?" Fury continued, his voice like a whip. "Control the narrative. The Maker bribed officials at every level—government, media, SHIELD—to spread fear. They turned public opinion against unregistered enhanced individuals, framing them as threats. Every broadcast, every article, every so-called 'expert' interview—it was all designed to scare people into thinking registration was the only solution."
Polaris folded her arms, her jaw tight. "Of course. Fear always works."
Fury tapped a key, and the display shifted to images of heroes being detained, accompanied by documents and transcripts. "But propaganda wasn't enough for him. He knew there'd be opposition. So he removed the strongest voices before they could even speak. Key leaders, powerful heroes who could've united the resistance—arrested on false charges, framed with fabricated evidence, or just quietly disappeared."
Jean's fists clenched at her sides. "He silenced anyone who could've stood against him."
"And then," Fury said, his tone dropping to a cold growl, "he manufactured the disaster that made it all possible."
The display shifted again, this time showing footage of the Chicago incident. The image of a young, glowing Rick Jones as A-Bomb appeared on the screen, surrounded by a city in flames. The explosion played on a loop, the devastation overwhelming.
"Chicago," Fury spat. "The official story? A-Bomb lost control of his powers. The truth? The Maker ensured it happened. He tampered with A-Bomb's containment systems, destabilizing his radiation levels. He didn't just let it happen—he made it happen."
A-Bomb, standing at the back of the room, stared at the screen, his face stoic. There was no shock in his eyes—just a quiet, simmering anger. He had already known the truth, but seeing it laid out again twisted the knife.
"The fallout was catastrophic," Fury said, gesturing at the display. "Thousands dead, millions affected. And the public? They were terrified. The Maker wasted no time capitalizing on that fear. Within days, the Superhuman Registration Act was pushed through Congress. Heroes were given a choice: register and comply or be branded criminals."
Scarlet Spider leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "He didn't just win the war. He made sure he started it on his terms."
Fury's voice grew harsher. "And as soon as registration was law, SHIELD came down like a hammer. Heroes who refused were hunted, imprisoned, or worse. The rebellion was over before it even began, and The Maker came out of it looking like the savior of humanity."
The recording ended abruptly, the screen going dark. The room was silent for a long moment, the weight of Fury's words hanging heavily over the group.
Thor broke the silence, his voice low and steady. "This… 'Civil War' was no war at all. It was a slaughter."
Jean nodded, her face pale but resolute. "He didn't just manipulate the system. He destroyed lives to build his empire."
Albedo stepped forward, his crimson eyes fixed on the dark screen. "This isn't just about exposing him anymore. It's about justice—for everyone he's used, everyone he's hurt. Fury left us a roadmap. Now it's up to us to finish what he started."
Polaris turned to Albedo, her voice sharp. "But how? The public's already seen some of the truth, and they're still clinging to his lies."
"Then we keep pushing," Albedo said, his voice firm. "We show them the full picture. Piece by piece, we take apart everything he's built until there's nowhere left for him to hide."
The next file began to play, and Nick Fury's face appeared on the screen again. This time, the tension in his expression had deepened. There were shadows under his eyes, and his voice carried a weight of urgency and dread. The faint hum of machinery in the background seemed louder, as if amplifying the gravity of what he was about to say.
"This is Nick Fury," he began, his voice low and strained. "Journal entry, April 30th. I've been chasing this damn rabbit hole for months now, but I think I've finally found the endgame. The Maker's endgame."
Fury leaned closer to the camera, his one good eye blazing with determination. "This isn't just about control. It's not even about the Civil War, or mutants, or the Illuminati. Those were just stepping stones. The Maker's been building toward something far bigger, far worse."
The holographic display shifted, showing a series of files labeled with ominous titles: "PROJECT DOMINION," "PSIONIC INITIATIVE," and "THE VAULT."
"He's been gathering telepaths," Fury said, his tone growing harsher. "Mind manipulators, empaths, anyone with powers that can influence or control thoughts. You've probably noticed their numbers thinning out over the years, haven't you? That's because The Maker has been systematically taking them. Either they work for him, or they disappear."
Polaris's magnetic field flared slightly, betraying her anger. "He's hoarding them. Why?"
"Control," Fury answered, his holographic figure now pacing. "Pure, absolute control. With these telepaths and his Illuminati, he's aiming for something no dictator in history has ever achieved—global mind control. He doesn't want to just influence nations or manipulate leaders. He wants to own the thoughts of every person on the planet."
Jean's breath hitched, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's weaponizing their powers… to rewrite the world's collective mind."
"That's just Phase One," Fury continued, his tone growing darker. He gestured toward another file on the display labeled "THE VAULT." "Phase Two? That's where it gets worse. The Maker's building something he calls 'The Vault.' It's not a weapon. It's not a machine. It's a laboratory for rewriting humanity itself."
The holographic display showed designs for massive genetic facilities, rows of containment chambers, and DNA manipulation equipment. Fury's voice was filled with disgust as he explained.
"He's planning to genetically alter the entire population. He'll wipe out anyone who doesn't fit his definition of 'perfect,' and replace them with his vision of a superior species. Perfect humans. Perfect mutants. A world shaped entirely in his image."
The room was silent as the weight of Fury's words sank in. Scarlet Spider ran a hand through his hair, muttering, "This guy's not just a control freak. He's completely off the rails."
"He's playing god," Thor growled, gripping Stormbreaker tightly. "And he'll destroy everything to do it."
Fury stopped pacing, staring directly into the camera. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I've seen too much, and I'm too close now. If this is my last entry, let it be known—I'm not going down without a fight. The Maker thinks he's untouchable, but I'll be damned if I let him win without throwing everything I've got at him."
He leaned closer to the camera, his expression intense. "If you're watching this, it means I didn't make it. But you can. Stop him. No matter what it takes. Stop him before he ends us all."
The video cut off abruptly, leaving the room in a heavy silence. The darkened screen reflected the somber faces of Albedo and his team. Polaris's hands were clenched at her sides, her magnetic field buzzing faintly around her. Jean's face was pale, her breathing steady but shaky.
"He was right," Albedo said quietly, his voice filled with a cold determination. "This goes beyond anything we've faced so far. We're not just fighting for ourselves. We're fighting for the entire future of humanity."
Scarlet Spider let out a low whistle, trying to mask his unease with humor. "Well, no pressure or anything."
Thor stepped forward, his tone grave but resolute. "If The Maker seeks to play god, then it falls to us to remind him of his mortality."
Jean nodded, her voice steadying. "Fury left us the path. Now it's up to us to finish it."
Albedo turned back to the console, his crimson eyes narrowing. "Then let's get to work. The Maker won't stop, and neither will we."
The next file opened, and the image that appeared was far from the sharp, controlled presence of Nick Fury in the earlier recordings. He was seated at the same desk, but his posture was slumped, his breathing labored. Blood stained his uniform, and one arm was in a makeshift sling. His face was pale, his eye sunken, and his usual composure had been replaced by a man on the edge.
"This is Nick Fury," he began, his voice rough and rasping. "Journal entry… last one, I guess. Date? Hell, I don't even know anymore."
He coughed, wincing in pain as he shifted in his chair. The room behind him was dimmer than before, and faint alarms could be heard in the distance, their wails muffled but persistent. He glanced at the camera, a faint smirk crossing his lips despite his condition.
"If you're watching this, then congratulations. You've managed to get through every layer of encryption I put on these files. That means one of two things: you're good enough to be on my side, or you're one of The Maker's lackeys. Either way, you're about to hear the truth."
Fury took a deep breath, his expression hardening despite the pain etched across his features. "The Maker found me. Took longer than I thought, but he finally caught up. I don't have much time left, so I'll make this quick."
He tapped a button offscreen, and the holographic display came to life, showing a digital countdown. "ENCRYPTION IN PROGRESS: 2 MINUTES REMAINING." Fury glanced at it briefly before continuing.
"These files—everything I've recorded here—are now locked behind a program even The Maker can't break. If he gets his hands on them, they'll self-destruct. But if you're watching this, it means you found a way in. That means you've got a shot."
Polaris leaned closer to the screen, her eyes narrowing as Fury's tone grew heavier. "The Maker's playing the long game. He's got the Illuminati in his pocket, mutants under his thumb, and a global infrastructure designed to turn the world into his personal utopia. And by utopia, I mean hell for anyone who doesn't fit his mold."
Fury paused, coughing violently, blood spattering onto his hand. He wiped it away, his good eye narrowing. "I won't be around to stop him. This is it for me. But I didn't leave these files just to die for nothing. I've scattered evidence—real evidence—across the world. Hidden bunkers, coded messages, caches of data. It's all there, waiting for someone with the guts to pick up where I left off."
The camera zoomed in slightly as Fury leaned forward, his voice lowering to a near growl. "I don't know who you are. Maybe you're a hero. Maybe you're just someone pissed off enough to do something about it. But if you're watching this, then it's on you now."
He gestured vaguely toward the display, his movements sluggish but deliberate. "The files, the bunkers, the plans—they're all yours. Use them. Finish this fight. Because if The Maker wins, there won't be anything left worth saving."
Fury sat back in his chair, his breathing shallow but his gaze unyielding. "I've done what I can. The rest is up to you."
The countdown reached zero, and the screen went black, leaving only Fury's final words echoing in the room.
The silence that followed was deafening. No one spoke, the weight of Fury's sacrifice pressing down on them all. Albedo finally broke the silence, his voice quiet but resolute.
"We have his files. We have his leads. Fury didn't die for nothing."
Thor nodded solemnly, his grip on Stormbreaker tightening. "Then let us honor his legacy by ensuring his mission succeeds."
Polaris glanced at the darkened screen, her voice steady but tinged with anger. "The Maker thought he could erase Fury. But Fury made sure someone would carry on the fight."
Jean placed a hand on Albedo's shoulder. "And now it's on us."
Albedo nodded, his expression hardening. "Then we don't waste any more time. We find these bunkers. We gather the evidence. And we end The Maker's reign, once and for all."
Albedo stood at the center of the Sanctum's War Room, the holographic display projecting Nick Fury's decrypted files for everyone to see. The room was tense, the weight of Fury's words still hanging heavily over the group. Each member of the team had gathered, their expressions a mixture of determination and unease.
Albedo's crimson eyes scanned the room as he began. "We've reviewed Fury's files. His sacrifices have given us a lifeline, but it's up to us to make use of it. The Maker has hidden his weaknesses, but Fury left us tools to expose them."
He tapped a control on the console, and several glowing markers appeared on a global map. Each marker represented one of Fury's hidden bunkers, scattered across the world. A list of locations appeared beside the map: Siberia, Cairo, Rio de Janeiro, and Sydney.
"These are the locations Fury flagged," Albedo explained. "Each of these bunkers contains something he believed could turn the tide against The Maker. Data, weapons, blueprints—we don't know exactly what we'll find, but it's critical we retrieve it all."
Scarlet Spider leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Sounds like a scavenger hunt. What's the plan, boss?"
Albedo's gaze sharpened. "We split into teams. Two people per location. We'll move faster that way, and if we run into trouble, it won't jeopardize the entire mission."
Polaris glanced at the map, her arms crossed. "And what if The Maker's people are waiting for us? These places won't exactly be unguarded."
"They won't be," Albedo agreed. "That's why each team will include complementary skills to handle whatever comes their way."
He tapped the console again, assigning the teams.
Team Assignments:
1. Cairo: Polaris and Thor.
2. Siberia: Scarlet Spider and A-Bomb.
3. Rio de Janeiro: Jean Gray and Luke Cage.
4. Sydney: Albedo and Donald Blake.
Thor raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Polaris. "Cairo, then? I hope you're prepared to deal with the heat, Lady Polaris."
She smirked. "And I hope you're prepared to follow orders for once."
Scarlet Spider groaned, shooting a glance at A-Bomb. "Siberia? Really? Guess I'll pack a few extra sweaters."
"Don't worry," A-Bomb said with a grin. "I'll keep you warm."
Jean turned to Luke, her tone thoughtful. "Rio could be tricky. We'll need to keep a low profile until we're inside."
Luke nodded. "Works for me. I'll follow your lead."
Finally, Donald Blake spoke, his voice measured. "Sydney, then. We'll make it quick, but I assume we're prepared for resistance?"
Albedo nodded. "We should assume every location will be compromised. Move fast, retrieve what we need, and regroup. The longer we're out there, the more likely The Maker will notice."
Polaris leaned forward, her expression serious. "And once we have everything?"
"We regroup here," Albedo said firmly. "With all the pieces Fury left behind, we'll plan our next move. This isn't just about gathering tools—it's about figuring out how to use them to bring The Maker down."
Thor gripped Stormbreaker, his voice resolute. "Then let us waste no time. The sooner we strike, the closer we are to victory."
Albedo glanced at each of them, his tone steady but commanding. "You all know your assignments. Gear up and move out. We don't get a second chance at this."
The team dispersed, heading to prepare for their respective missions. Albedo stayed behind for a moment, his eyes lingering on Fury's files. He couldn't shake the weight of responsibility—Fury's final words echoed in his mind. "The rest is up to you."
With a deep breath, he turned away, ready to lead his team into the next phase of their fight.