"…reporting live from above South Downs, where we're now flying over one of the few zones that has not yet been restored." The reporter's voice carried that particular blend of professional composure and barely suppressed disbelief that came from describing something for which there was, genuinely, no precedent. "If you're just joining us, take a look at what our camera is picking up below. This is the aftermath of whatever happened here last night..." The helicopter banked to give the camera a clearer angle. "The ground beneath us is scorched black for what looks like miles in every direction. There are stretches where the earth appears to have simply broken apart, and our pilot tells us he's picking up significant heat readings rising from several points below us, consistent with what you'd expect to see near an active volcano, though obviously this is nowhere near anything volcanic under normal circumstances. I can even see what looks like molten rock in at least two locations from here. I genuinely don't have a better way to describe it than that… We've been informed that the preliminary estimate stands at roughly seven hundred square kilometres affected, which would put this in the range of, say, a city the size of Birmingham or Bristol in terms of sheer footprint. And we're told that figure is very likely conservative." The shot widens, the camera sweeping briefly across the blackened terrain stretching toward the horizon before settling again. "Our crew, along with what looks like a dozen or more other broadcast teams currently in the air is attempting to get closer in hopes of securing comment from the individuals being referred to, at this stage, simply as the superhumans involved in last night's events. We'll bring you that the moment we have—" The television gave a single, decisive click, and the picture collapsed inward on itself, shrinking to a thin white line before vanishing entirely. What remained was a moderately sized room with plain gray walls, the air carrying the stale scent of old coffee and recirculated air. Fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead, while a long table ran down the center, comfortably seating about a dozen people. “Well?” A low, unhurried voice broke the quiet. Alexander Pierce sat at the far end of the table, the remote still loose in his hand after killing the broadcast moments earlier. His suit was faintly creased from long hours, but otherwise immaculate, and his expression, as always, revealed nothing. On his left sat Nick Fury, broad-shouldered and leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, his gaze still lingering on the now-dark screen. Across from him sat an old woman, her hands resting together on the table. Peggy Carter, though age had touched her hair with silver, kept her posture straight and composed, and there remained something unmistakably formidable about her even now. The rest of the table was filled out with more of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division's top level personnel, analysts and section heads, men and women in dark suits with several open folders scattered in front of them, pens still hovering mid-note where the broadcast had cut them off. "Director," one of the men closed the yellow folder in front of him. "Does this mean we're declassifying everything about them to the entire Bureau?" Pierce set the remote down on the table with a quiet click. "There's not much point in keeping something a secret that the entire world is already aware of by now, is there?" He said it without a flicker of expression, "so perhaps the question we should be asking is how we intend to evaluate this rather unexpected situation." “Agent Jefferson…” Peggy Carter turned slightly in her chair, her gaze settling on a blond-haired man across the table. “Has there been any movement from your world’s Congress? How are the magicals reacting to this incident?” “No, ma’am,” the man said, shaking his head. Since governments were permitted to employ witches and wizards under certain conditions, it was only natural that an international agency like S.H.I.E.L.D. had several within its ranks as well. “It’s too early to tell, I suppose. But I’m sure the International Confederation of Wizards will hold a conference very soon to address this.” Pierce reclined slightly in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Any guess what they’ll decide?” “As I said, Director…” Jefferson shook his head once more. “It’s too early to tell. Besides, my rank is only Magus. I don’t have clearance for information on the ICW’s internal movements.” Pierce rested his hand on the table, fingers tapping a slow rhythm as he listened. After a moment, he turned to the man seated beside him. “Nick, what do you think?” “Why don’t we just ask them?” Fury said matter-of-factly. “I’m familiar with the ki— the High Councilor, Caesar. Let me take a team to the UK and see if I can meet him.” “Don’t you have his number, Agent?” Peggy Carter arched an eyebrow at him. “I tried already.” Fury exhaled slowly. “His phone’s dead. Probably got fried during the fight.” “Then do it,” Pierce said after he finished. “I authorize you to take a Delta squad as well as the Quad-Jet...” He paused, then added, “Try not to probe excessively when you meet them...” “If... I meet them,” Fury replied, then got up from his seat and made his way straight for the exit. The meeting carried on even after he left, while outside the conference room, as soon as Fury stepped out, he was met by a younger-looking man waiting by the door. “Don’t tell me you’ve been standing here this whole time, Coulson?” Fury beckoned for him to follow. The floor was packed with men and women in suits seated at computers, but none of their attention was on the screens before them. Instead, all eyes were fixed on the large televisions in the corners broadcasting the news. Coulson offered a faint smile as he fell into step beside Fury. “Where are we headed, sir?” “Operations. Need to borrow a pair of boots.” Fury strode forward without pause. “Go to the cafeteria and pack some food, then meet me at the rooftop in twenty minutes.” --- Some three and a half hours later, the White Cliffs of Dover rose into view beyond the Quad-Jet’s rear window, pale against the grey churn of the English Channel. Joining Fury and Coulson was a single woman and no one else. The so-called squad, as it turned out, was exactly what Fury had remarked, one pair of boots. “Are those all helicopters?” The woman narrowed her eyes, leaning forward slightly. She was also piloting the aircraft, with Fury beside her and Coulson seated a little behind them in the middle row. “Hmm… News.” Fury was chomping on a sandwich as he said, “it’s a good thing this thing has camouflage mode… You do have it enabled, don’t you?” “Don’t talk to me with your mouth full...” A few minutes later, they were flying over the hills, and perhaps by coincidence, their approach brought them directly over the crater where Grindelwald had crashed, the scar on the land that seemed deliberately left unrestored. When they drew close enough, the female pilot tilted the aircraft slightly, giving them a better view of the scene below. The Quad-Jet could hover much like a helicopter thanks to its vertical take-off systems, but the powerful force of its engines meant they had to stay high above the helicopters below. Getting too close could easily throw the smaller aircraft out of control. “It looks like the army has already been mobilized…” “What is the English thinking allowing civilians to get so close?” It was indeed a hive of activity. Military personnel had established a perimeter around the crater, but reporters and curious onlookers continued to gather in growing numbers. "Over there, Agent May." Suddenly, Coulson got up from his seat and pointed in one direction. Far in the distance, they saw the ground rising, chunks of earth and stone flying through the air as though gravity had simply stopped working, but their movement was far from random, twisting and slithering like enormous stone serpents, weaving around one another before descending with purpose. “Go.” Fury beckoned for May to head in that direction. They were flying high enough to see clearly for miles in every direction, so it didn’t take long before the Quad-jet passed over the grasslands and into a region still untouched by the restoration. "Is that High Councilor Garling?" Phil Coulson appears to be blessed with remarkably sharp eyesight, pointing toward a small figure making strange gestures as though performing some sort of dance amidst the swirling rubble and stone. Fury’s gaze locked onto that point in the distance as well, his brow furrowing slightly. In his mind, the image of a majestic figure came into focus, imposing, and carrying a rather sharp attitude. His brow twitched. A second later, he closed his eyes and slumped back into his seat with a weary sigh. "Thought it'd be that kid..." "Are you talking about the young Archmage?" May asked. "Yeah." Fury gave a small nod, then tilted his head toward the window. "The one over there is his mentor. Same breed of monster, but with even less restraint. The type that bites first and talks later." Crunch... Crunch... "So are we meeting him or not?" asked May. She had learned of the existence of magic barely a few hours ago, and unlike Fury, who had lived through many encounters with them already, she had no real sense yet of what that really meant. "Let's try and see if we can locate the kid first." Crunch. Crunch. "Coulson, pass me that bag of nuts will you..." "..." "Coulson?" "Coul— son of bitch!" Click. Click. When Fury turned in his seat, and at almost the same moment May turned too, both of them went rigid, realising in the same breath that their aircraft had somehow gained an extra passenger out of nowhere. Their bodies reacted before their minds could catch up. In the same instant, both had their guns raised and pointed at the intruder. He just stood there, with a bag of nuts in one hand, tossing the contents into his mouth one at a time with the other, perfectly relaxed, as though he had been there the entire flight and was simply enjoying a show. "Thank you, Agent Coulson." Maverick handed the bag back to Coulson, then gave Fury a smirk and a small nod. "Long time no see, Agent..." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "Farry." “It’s... Fury.” A faint twitch crossed the future director of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s brow at the deliberate mispronunciation, then tucked his gun away "You got some kind of hobby or something, breaking into people's aircrafts?" “Funny coming from the agency that sticks its nose in whenever somebody sneezes.” Maverick said while sliding his hands casually into his coat pockets. “So what brings S.H.I.E.L.D. all the way here to the UK?” "Take a guess." Fury said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "May put the damn gun down will you. It's not going to work against him anyway." Agent May seemed frozen where she stood, and it was only at the sound of Fury's voice that she finally broke from whatever held her. Her eyes narrowed on Maverick, weighing him in a way that suggested she had not yet decided what to make of him, and only then, slowly, did her weapon lower. Thankfully, the aircraft had autopilot, or the scene might not have been quite so calm. "We're here under orders from the director, to find out exactly what happened." Fury dropped back into his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "You’ll fill us in, won’t you... we're old friends, after all." "Are we now..." Maverick said, smiling, and dropped down slowly as well. At the same moment, a high-backed chair rose from the hull like liquid mercury, timed precisely so that it met his back the instant he lowered himself into it. He crossed his legs, rested one elbow on the armrest, and tilted his head into his fist. Fury didn't show much expression. Coulson, on the other hand, looked at the scene with something close to stars in his eyes, while May's jaw dropped on the spot, her eyes going wide. "Long story short," Maverick said after a moment, "a very dangerous criminal broke out of prison. What you saw on the news, and what you’re seeing below now, is the aftermath of our attempt to stop him."He had no plans of keeping the details hidden, it would all be over the news soon enough anyway. "Grindelwald... I'm sure you've read his files?" "We have." Fury's expression darkened slightly. "How the hell did he break out..." "That's still under investigation." Maverick shrugged lightly. "Dumbledore's already left to inspect the site. I can't say much else on that matter until he's back." "Right." Fury rubbed his chin a few times. "So what happens next?" "You'll have to be a bit more specific, Agent." "What I mean is, what's your congress going to decide about all this? The whole world now knows about your people’s existence..." “That does appear to be the case, isn’t it…” Maverick said, sounding completely unbothered, which only made Fury’s brows crease further. “I hope you lot’s reaction won’t be something as crazy as mind-wiping the whole planet.” Maverick didn't answer right away, the corner of his mouth simply lifting a little higher. "Shit. You can't be fucking serious." Fury leaned forward, his eyes widening. Maverick finally couldn’t hold back a chuckle and laughed. “That does indeed sound simple enough…” After saying, he rose from the seat, and at the same moment, the seat melted back into the metal floor, leaving no trace it had ever been there. “Alright, all jokes aside, agents, nothing has been decided yet... Though I’m fairly certain whatever you’re imagining isn’t going to happen.” He raised his hand and glanced at his watch. "Feel free to stick around. Just don't get too close." "Wait." Fury called out quickly, just as Maverick was about to Apparate away. "Anything else, Agent?" "Give me something, man. What you've told us so far isn't exactly hard to guess." Maverick rubbed his chin again, considering him. “The ICW congress is scheduled for six o’clock, local time here. I’d imagine we’ll have a decision on all of this by tomorrow.” “That quickly?” Fury raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask anything further, Maverick had vanished from the spot. All they saw was that one moment he was there, and the next, he seemed to fold inward, space warping around him for a split second before collapsing into a dark point that resembled a tiny black hole.