Nick Fury's greatest ally, or his biggest trump card, was none other than Carol Danvers—Captain Marvel.
If we set aside pure power and look only at combat ability, Ronan could stand toe-to-toe with her for over a hundred rounds!
Of course, ignoring the differences in age and experience, comparing a young colt to a full-grown horse was hardly fair.
But in terms of raw power, Ronan wasn't intimidated by Captain Marvel.
After all, he now had the Space Stone, and though he couldn't use its energy like Captain Marvel had to enhance herself, he could always escape if things got too hot.
Just like a guy forced to drink herbal tea daily to "stay healthy"—the best solution is simply to escape the claws of the woman.
Similarly, Ronan could always "dip" if he needed to—and he'd do so with impressive speed.
And what then?
Easy. He'd call for his own backup!
If Fury could call for help, why shouldn't Ronan? After all, if my backup can go toe-to-toe with yours, what's there to worry about?
With this thought in mind, Ronan leaned down, pried Fury's hand away, and took the pager from his pocket.
It bore Captain Marvel's symbol.
Ronan couldn't help but wonder how this pager was crafted to communicate with someone wandering the vastness of space from Earth.
Of course, the only downside was the high delay in communication.
"This is it, right?"
"The one Carol Danvers gave you?"
"The one she left so that, in case of danger, you could press a button and summon her back?"
Ronan casually tossed the pager around, as if trying to figure out its inner workings.
Each of his moves felt like a taunt to Nick Fury.
"How... how do you know about that?" Fury stammered, stunned.
Fury had believed this secret was his alone. Nothing in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s records documented it, and he'd told no one.
But today, it seemed that Ronan knew everything.
"Doesn't matter how I know," Ronan shrugged. "And honestly, this toy doesn't interest me."
Ronan tossed the pager onto Fury's chest, barely giving him time to catch it.
If Ronan knew about Carol Danvers, why give the pager back? Did he really believe he could handle her, too?
To Fury, Carol Danvers was beyond human. Her combat power was... indescribable.
"Well, I think I've made my point clear."
"And from this day forward, I assume there won't be anyone looking into my identity, right?"
Ronan glanced at the wary Steve Rogers, then nudged Fury with his foot.
After all, he wasn't here to kill anyone—he wasn't some bloodthirsty maniac.
Plus, killing these people, especially Steve Rogers, wouldn't even give him experience points.
Why?
The system considered Rogers one of "his own."
In fact, after all this fighting, Rogers didn't even see Ronan as an enemy!
Was it because Steve Rogers had such a huge heart? Ronan couldn't help but snicker to himself.
But it made sense. Rogers was unlikely to trust Fury completely.
His loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D. was more a matter of adjusting to the times.
Once the Avengers Tower was completed, he'd leave S.H.I.E.L.D. and work there instead.
So, in contrast to the more dubious Fury, Rogers was more willing to believe Ronan wasn't an enemy.
Well... maybe that was it?
"Good,"
Ronan's "friendly negotiation" had done the trick.
For once, Nick Fury, the man who prided himself on protecting the world, bowed his head.
Even though he felt deeply frustrated, there was little he could do.
Fighting wasn't an option. What else could he do?
"Also, if I find out anyone is still prying into my secrets, I'll hold S.H.I.E.L.D. responsible."
"And I'll be back."
"Understood?"
Ronan crouched, staring Fury down as he said this. His tone left no room for doubt—if anyone so much as looked into him again, Fury's organization would face his wrath.
Not that there were many groups out there who would even care to.
S.H.I.E.L.D., or Hydra—it didn't make much difference to Ronan where the blame fell.
"Understood," Fury muttered.
Ah, survival instincts kicking in. Fury had once experimented with life-reviving tech; lowering his head wasn't beyond him.
"Well then, looks like our pleasant chat is about over."
"But before I go..." Ronan paused.
Fury felt his breath catch. What now?
"Before I go, there's one more thing."
Ronan tilted his head, raising his left hand and snapping his fingers.
Steve Rogers watched Ronan's move, a pang of dread gripping him.
What on earth...?
A blue glow filled the room, and then—bodies began to fall from above, hitting the floor with dull thuds.
They were the bodies of the agents Ronan had just eliminated.
"Trash like this has no place with me, so please, clean it up."
"Who knows? Someday, you might even thank me."
Ronan winked at Fury before vanishing from sight, right in front of them.
This time, there was no golden door, just a simple disappearance.
Fury stared at the bodies littering the floor, taking a deep breath.
Just who was this man?
How could an attempt to look into his identity lead to this?
Those dead agents—they had been S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best.
And this leg wound of his...
Face darkening, Fury struggled to his feet, glaring at the empty spot where Ronan had stood.
He knew one thing: this Christmas... wouldn't be merry.
And with that thought, he tilted his head and collapsed back onto the floor.
Just before blacking out, he managed to get out a single phrase.
"Call the ambulance!"