Marvel: The Villain Chapter 352 Fast

Leaving Alexander's office, Stansfield took the elevator down to the Logistics Department.

"Morning, Sir!"

"Good morning, Mr. Stansfield!"

"Stansfield, hitting the bar tonight?"

On his way to his office, SHIELD agents stopped to greet him warmly. Stansfield responded with a bright, easy smile, radiating the charm of a man who belonged.

Seven years ago, he had walked away from a career at the DEA, turned down a prestigious offer from the Department of Justice, and abandoned a lifetime of social and political connections to go deep undercover within SHIELD. With his seasoned political instincts and social grace, he quickly became a rising star within the agency.

However, Fury had always harbored suspicions about his background, frequently testing him with subtle traps. To prevent exposure, under Jason's orders, Stansfield had remained in a state of deep hibernation—a dormant piece on the chessboard. He had handled plenty of intel that could have hurt the Joker Organization, but unable to distinguish truth from Fury's bait, he chose to ignore most of it. He knew that even genuine intel wouldn't shake the Organization's foundations. Only something capable of total subversion would warrant breaking cover.

Seven years of meticulous work had left even the paranoid Fury unable to find a flaw. Thanks to his stellar record, undeniable competence, and Alexander Pierce's backing, Stansfield had climbed the ranks to become the Head of Logistics and a Level 7 Agent.

Pierce was right: as partners, HYDRA was competent. But partnership requires equal footing. Seven years ago, HYDRA was a titan, and collaborating with them was a strategic necessity for the Joker Organization. But times had changed. The Organization had grown to a point where they could simply ignore HYDRA. The partnership had shifted into a hierarchy—master and servant. And given Pierce's arrogant attitude, Stansfield felt zero inclination to share the spoils.

Inside his private office, Stansfield activated the anti-surveillance protocols, sealing the room. Once secure, he pulled a specialized phone from a hidden compartment in his bookshelf. This was his emergency link to the Organization, loaded with cutting-edge encryption.

"Stansfield! This is the emergency line. Did something happen at SHIELD?"

"No, I have good news. Princess Shuri of Wakanda has surfaced."

Stansfield kept it brief, relaying the intel to the operative Christine. On the other end, Christine sounded almost breathless with excitement.

"Perfect! You have to find her location immediately. The technicians and data she's holding are critical to the Organization."

Stansfield smiled. "Don't worry. I have a plan. I'll have a word by tonight."

Christine turned cautious. "Tonight? Isn't that too fast? This is huge. Maybe I should send a few operatives to D.C. to back you up. We can't afford to let her slip away."

"No need for the crowd," Stansfield said confidently. "I happen to have a helper on hand."

"A helper? Are they reliable? What's their level?"

Stansfield leaned back in his chair, thinking for a moment. "If I'm not mistaken, he's just like us."

"Like us?" Christine gasped. "You mean he's another of Jason's inner circle? That's impossible. Jason is off-world. How could there be a new one?"

"I'm not a hundred percent sure, but the odds are high," Stansfield speculated. "As for how the Boss is recruiting from across the stars... who knows? If he can upgrade our powers from that far away, he can certainly manage this."

Christine considered this. "We'll need to test him before he's officially accepted."

"If all goes well, he'll be heading back to Wakanda with Shuri tonight. You can run your tests then. Stay alert—Shuri's fleet could pop up in Wakandan airspace at any moment."

"Understood. I'll get ready."

After cutting the link, Stansfield leaned his chair back and closed his eyes, mentally reviewing the board. Shuri's fleet was invisible, and the only person who could contact her was Fury. To get to her, he had to go through the Director.

Fury already suspected him. If anything happened, the finger would point straight at Stansfield. Therefore, he couldn't do the job himself. He needed a perfect alibi. He pulled out his phone and texted two colleagues from Logistics. After seven years, he had built a network of loyal friends—people attracted to his heroic DEA past and upright character. They had no idea who he really was; they even felt sorry for him when Fury gave him a hard time.

He wondered how they'd feel when the mask finally came off.

He scheduled a night of bar-hopping with them, then went back to work. At the end of the shift, he changed into civilian clothes and headed to the parking lot. Fury's SUV was still in its reserved spot. Typical, Stansfield thought. The workaholic Director is pulling an all-night session to deal with the chaos.

Driving his SHIELD-issued Chevy out of the lot, Stansfield texted his friends, claiming he needed an hour to go home and change. His friends agreed; nobody wanted to hit the bars smelling like office stress and cigarette smoke if they hoped to meet any women.

Stansfield's high-end apartment was a thirty-minute drive from headquarters. To avoid Fury's scrutiny, he never touched his dirty money or the Organization's slush funds. Relying solely on his $300,000 Level 7 salary, he couldn't afford to buy luxury real estate in D.C., but it was more than enough to rent a top-tier penthouse.

He parked, took the elevator to the 17th floor, and opened the heavy door. The apartment was pitch black, save for a single yellow desk lamp in the study.

"You're back."

Sitting behind the desk was a figure draped in a heavy black cloak. His head was bowed, his face hidden, but the voice was unmistakably male—cold and hollow. The cloaked man closed the book he was reading and set it aside. He looked up, revealing a face of deathly pallor.

"I have waited two days," He said in a chilling, low rasp. "Ample time for you to verify my identity."

Stansfield shrugged. "Sorry. You aren't in any of my databases."

The man's tone turned sharply impatient. "Then give me Jason's location. I will find him myself."

"The Boss's location isn't for outsiders," Stansfield countered.

"I told you," The man hissed, "I am his ally. Just like you. If you doubt me, contact Jason. He will tell you who I am."

"I can't just call the Organization," Stansfield lied. "My position is too sensitive."

The cloaked man narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp and predatory. His right hand tightened around a strangely shaped wooden stick.

Stansfield caught the movement. "If you don't believe me, you're welcome to try and enter my mind."

"I already have," The man said, lowering the stick slightly. "Your 'superpower' shields you from my magic. At least... while I have no desire to harm you."

Magic? New guy has an ego, Stansfield thought. He got straight to the point. "How about this: complete a mission to prove your loyalty. It's an Organization task, not a personal one. If you succeed, I'll give you what you want."

"What is the task?"

Stansfield sat across from him. "Do you know Nick Fury?"

"The Director of SHIELD. Your superior."

"Right. Fury has a communicator. The owner of that device is vital to the Organization. Your mission: find Fury, take the device, and then use your skills to impersonate him. Meet the owner, subdue her, and bring her home."

"The details are vague," The man questioned.

Stansfield stood up to leave. "I'm on a clock. That's all I can give you. For the specifics... just invade Fury's mind. You'll find everything you need."

"And the Director? Should I turn him into a puppet? Or simply kill him?"

Stansfield shook his head. "Without Fury, my life undercover would be far too boring. Leave him to me. I'll enjoy hosting him later. Once you're done, the other operatives will direct you to the Boss."

After the briefing, Stansfield took a quick shower and changed into an expensive suit. When he emerged, the cloaked man was gone. He glanced at the desk; a dozen books he'd been reading over the last two days were left in a pile.

"Looks like a walking corpse, carries a stick, fights with magic. Boss picks some weird ones," Stansfield muttered. "And that name—'Voldemort.' Clearly a title."

He tidied up and headed out to meet his friends at the bar.

The city was bathed in neon light under an ink-black sky. Voldemort left the apartment, his body dissolving into a cloud of black smoke that shot into the clouds. Under the cover of darkness, he reached the Triskelion.

Inside his office, Fury was buried in paperwork. He didn't notice the black mist approaching the window. The mist ignored the reinforced, bulletproof glass, seeping through like a ghost before reforming into a human shape.

Fury felt a shift in the air—the sound of a second person breathing. He spun around, his heart jumping.

Standing by the window was a man in a black cloak. He looked like a skeleton draped in skin. His eyes were blood-red with vertical slits for pupils. His nose was flat, with two snake-like slits for nostrils. His skin was whiter than bone.

"Sir, who the hell are you?" Fury asked, his hand drifting toward the gun in his pocket.

Voldemort slowly raised his hand, gripping the Elder Wand. "Child, I suggest you leave the hand where it is."

Incredible perception, Fury thought, his body freezing. The voice was a demonic whisper. He gave up on the gun—his gut told him a bullet wouldn't stop this thing. He'd have to trigger the alarm.

"You haven't answered the question, friend." Fury sat back, his hand inching toward the silent alarm button under his desk.

Nothing escaped Voldemort's eyes. He shook his head in mock disappointment and leveled his wand.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Fury's body slammed into a state of rigid stone. His finger was inches from the button, but he couldn't move a muscle. He tried to scream, but not a sound could escape his throat.

Voldemort stepped forward, waving the wand with an elegant flourish.

"Fidelius..." No, he chose a different path. He pointed the wand at Fury's forehead. "Legilimens!"

In an instant, Fury's eyes went dull. Voldemort tore through his mind, ripping out every secret, every coordinate, and the location. Once he had what he needed, he performed a complex piece of Transfiguration.

His skin darkened, his frame shortened, and a signature eyepatch manifested over his left eye. Within seconds, a second Nick Fury stood in the room.

The imposter reached into the real Fury's pocket and pulled out the tiny green communicator. He pressed the button.

"Princess Shuri? It's Fury. The Council has reached a decision. We're in. I'm coming to your coordinates now. Alone. We need to move fast."

.

.

.

.

You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.

pat reon.com/GreenBlue17

200 power stones.

Top 100. All time.