Selling Devil Fruits in the Marvel Universe

Chapter 113: Chapter 113: S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Concern—The Dangerous Shopkeeper



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"Director!"

"Sir, I have urgent intel to share." Nick Fury had just settled into the driver's seat of his car when Coulson's voice crackled through the phone, filled with urgency.

"I'll be back at HQ in an hour," Fury replied briskly, his tone leaving no room for further discussion.

"Understood!" Coulson answered promptly.

Although Fury had promised to take an hour, he had no intention of sticking to the usual road rules. Ignoring traffic laws altogether, he floored the gas pedal and made it back to the Triskelion in just forty minutes. 

Once in his office, Fury didn't immediately call for Coulson to debrief. Instead, he decided to put his newly acquired power—the ability granted by the Glare-Glare Fruit—to good use. Activating his enhanced vision, he began scanning the Triskelion's interior, meticulously observing every detail before proceeding further.

Fury was no stranger to the realities of running an intelligence agency like S.H.I.E.L.D. He understood that infiltration was inevitable. Spies from organizations such as the FBI, CIA, or even smaller, less prominent agencies would always find their way in. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. itself wasn't innocent in this game—they had their own agents deeply embedded in those very same organizations.

To Fury, infiltration wasn't just expected—it was practically a badge of honor. In his mind, if your agency wasn't being spied on, it probably wasn't significant enough to spy on in the first place.

That didn't mean he would simply tolerate it. Knowing his agency had been compromised was one thing, but letting it continue unchecked was another. Now, with the incredible power of the Glare-Glare Fruit, Fury decided it was time to expose the infiltrators lurking within.

Activating his upgraded vision, he focused on areas that had long been inaccessible—places outside the reach of conventional surveillance. Blind spots in the security system, restricted high-clearance zones, and otherwise secure areas all became visible to him. The sensation was exhilarating. For the first time, Fury could see through walls, pierce barriers, and survey spaces no one else could reach. It was like uncovering a hidden layer of reality, and he reveled in the control it gave him.

It didn't take long for his search to bear fruit. As his enhanced sight swept through the Triskelion, he spotted something unusual. A bespectacled, bald technician was huddled in a seemingly secretive conversation with none other than Brock Rumlow, the head of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s elite strike team.

"What's a techie doing chatting with someone from the Rapid Response Unit?" Fury muttered under his breath. While the interaction wasn't blatantly incriminating, it was far from ordinary.

Rumlow was no rookie—he was a hardened operative, someone Fury had entrusted with some of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most critical missions. On the other hand, the technician was a low-ranking staffer whose name barely registered in Fury's memory. Yet here they were, having a seemingly private conversation in one of the few surveillance blind spots within the Triskelion. That alone was enough to set off warning bells.

Fury narrowed his gaze, weighing the significance of what he'd just seen. It might be nothing, or it might be a thread worth pulling. Deciding to lean on the side of caution, he made a mental note to dig deeper into the interaction at a later time.

Deactivating his enhanced vision, Fury leaned back in his chair and jotted down a quick note. With that done, he reached for his phone and issued a direct order. "Coulson, report to my office. Now."

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"Director." Coulson entered, standing at attention. 

"What have you got for me?" Fury asked, his tone sharp.

"Three hours ago, a large-scale conflict erupted between Kingpin's forces and the Hand," Coulson began, stepping forward and placing a series of photos on Fury's desk. The images painted a grim picture—a battlefield strewn with bodies, chaos frozen in time.

Fury's eyes flicked over the photos, his brow furrowing at the carnage captured in each shot. Corpses lay scattered across the ground, many bearing signs of brutal close combat. While such conflicts between rival factions weren't uncommon, they rarely warranted S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention.

To Fury, the fight itself was a trivial matter. Letting Kingpin and the Hand tear each other apart only helped S.H.I.E.L.D. in the long run. But then Coulson dropped the bombshell.

"Rosh was involved," he said, his tone carefully measured but heavy with implication.

Fury's head snapped up, his posture stiffening. That name was enough to demand his full attention. "Rosh?" Fury repeated, his voice edged with disbelief. "Involved in this mess?"

Coulson nodded solemnly. "It seems so, sir."

Fury leaned back in his chair, his mind already racing. This wasn't just another turf war anymore—Rosh's involvement changed everything.

"What was his involvement?" Fury asked, his voice sharp as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

Coulson didn't hesitate. "He appeared on the scene and eliminated forty-seven members of the Hand in under a minute, including three of their leaders."

"Forty-seven... in under a minute?" Fury's voice rose, his usual composure cracking as disbelief flickered across his face.

"Yes, sir," Coulson confirmed, his expression grim. "Rosh's abilities left the Hand utterly decimated before they had a chance to respond. His Glint-Glint Fruit powers allow him to transform into light, granting him unparalleled speed and devastating offensive capabilities."

Fury glanced back at the photos on his desk. Though they documented the aftermath of the massacre, there was no visual evidence of Rosh's methods—the battle had unfolded too quickly for any recording devices to capture it. Still, Coulson continued filling in the gaps with meticulous detail.

"According to Agent Romanoff's analysis, Rosh moves and attacks at light-speed. He can deliver pinpoint strikes using concentrated beams of light to neutralize specific targets or unleash wide-scale radiant blasts to obliterate larger groups. That's how he managed to take down the Hand's foot soldiers in one sweeping attack."

Coulson gestured to one of the photos, pointing at a particularly scorched area. "The Fingers—Bakuto and Murakami—were killed instantly by precise light strikes. As for the rest of the Hand members? A single, overwhelming light barrage wiped them out completely."

His tone grew even more serious as he added, "After finishing the job, he transformed into a beam of light and exited through the 32nd-floor window. He disappeared in an instant, leaving no trace behind."

Fury leaned back in his chair, digesting the information. 'Light-speed attacks, mass destruction, and a clean getaway... Rosh just turned a gang war into a tactical nightmare.'

The implications were chilling. Rosh wasn't just powerful—he was a walking apocalypse. His ability to annihilate dozens, if not hundreds, in the blink of an eye and his invulnerability in light form placed him in a category Fury had never encountered before. 

'This isn't just dangerous. This is catastrophic-level power,' Fury thought grimly. 

For the first time in a long while, Nick Fury felt a flicker of unease. It wasn't just the sheer magnitude of Rosh's abilities that unnerved him—it was the unpredictable nature of the man wielding them. 

"Director," Coulson interrupted cautiously, his tone laced with concern. "Do you think we need to reassess our approach to the Home of the Devil Fruits?" 

Fury didn't respond immediately. He leaned back in his chair, his one good eye staring into the middle distance as he processed the implications of the report. After a long pause, his voice emerged, low and resolute. 

"Coulson, ensure that all surveillance and investigations into the Home of the Devil Fruits remain strictly covert. No missteps. No oversights. No leaks." 

"Understood, sir." 

Fury leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "One more thing. Under no circumstances are we to provoke Rosh. Direct confrontation is off the table. I don't care what happens—avoid it at all costs." 

"Yes, sir," Coulson replied immediately, the weight of the order sinking in. 

Fury leaned back once more, releasing a quiet, weary sigh. 'This is more than a threat,' he thought. 'Rosh is a force of nature. One wrong move, and we're finished.' 

Fury's mind raced as he considered the broader implications. The Devil Fruit Store was no longer just an anomaly or a curiosity—it was a powder keg of unprecedented power. And Rosh wasn't merely its enigmatic proprietor. 

'He's a wildcard,' Fury realized. 'The single greatest wildcard S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever faced.'

For years, Nick Fury had prided himself on being ten steps ahead of everyone else. But now, for the first time in his career, he wasn't sure the game he was playing was one he could win. 

'Rosh isn't just a shopkeeper,' Fury thought as the dim light of his office seemed to close in around him. 'He's a threat. A world-altering threat.'

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