Food Follies and Frustrated Furies.

NYC S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ

Fury relished the prospect of finally enjoying some well-deserved rest after a long day spent cleaning up other people's messes. He eagerly anticipated the forthcoming indulgence of a pork sandwich and a cold beer, ready to savor every bite and sip.

"He he he" he chuckled, rubbing his hands together as if preparing to engage in a passionate encounter with the meal before him. However, his moment of bliss was abruptly interrupted by a familiar knock at the door.

"Motherf*cker," Fury muttered, summoning the collective wrath of his ancestors.

He knew, without a doubt, that his meal was about to be ruined, just like his day. Perhaps the disturbance that awaited him now would be a colossal mess, equivalent to a month's worth of cleaning.

"I hope it's not another crash-landed E.T. who wants to phone home again," he silently prayed, recalling the countless peculiar situations Coulson had brought to his attention in the past.

"Come in," Fury grumbled, his eyes seething with frustration.

"What is it, Coulson?" he inquired., his voice tinged with impatience and annoyance.

Coulson didn't say anything; he just dropped a huge file at his desk.

He skimmed through the intel and then looked at Coulson.

"What am I looking at?" said the bladed-headed cyclops.

"Sir, it seems like we have found Ulysses Klaue's base of operations, it was on the coast of South Africa," said a typical spook in a suit with a receding hairline.

"Why does this place look like it got hit by a rod from God?" he asked, confusion etched on his face.

"Uncertain, sir, but we didn't find Ulysses Klaue, but check the victims, sir, even if they are terrorists; that's the only thing we can call them in this case, victims," said Coulson in a worried tone while checking for any bulging vein in the head of his boss.

As Fury examined the scene, he saw brains splattered, bodies burned, and scattered wreckage everywhere. The docked barge appeared as if it had been obliterated, with melted metal, fire, and the bodies of the "victims" strewn about. He turned to Colson, who looked at him knowingly.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Fury snapped, irritated by Coulson's accusatory gaze.

"No, I don't think Tony Stark did this. While his actions in the Middle East bear similarities, this display of sadism bespeaks of another perpetrator, one who revels in the demise of these 'victims, I have an eye for such things, Coulson" Fury said while analyzing the photos and intel he got on his desk.

"Any leads on who might have done this?" Fury inquired.

"That's the problem, sir. The survivors, or should I say the permanently scarred 'victims,' mentioned a person in black armor, flying, and shooting lasers. Does that ring a bell, boss?" Coulson asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Fury sighed and looked deeply into the gathered intelligence, contemplating the information before speaking.

"I'll speak to Stark about this. I don't mind if someone eliminates these human traffickers and murderers, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't Stark. Call it a hunch, Coulson."

"Now go out there and gather more information. I'll reach out to Stark later, understood?"

"Understood, boss"

Fury looked back at the destruction he had to clean up again.

"I am too old for this sh*t," he said under his breath.