Fury's footsteps echoed with the kind of finality that made even Tony sit up slightly straighter.

The woman behind him—Y/N—stood at ease near the door, hands clasped behind her back, eyes scanning the room with the calm precision of someone cataloguing exits, weapons, and threats before she'd even been introduced.

She was unremarkable at first glance. Dark jacket. Practical boots. No visible gear.

And yet everyone in the room felt it. The way she stood. The way her gaze lingered just a beat too long on each face. Like she was already five steps ahead of every conversation that hadn't happened yet.

Fury let the silence stretch, enjoying it far too much.

The silence that followed was deafening. Eleven superpowered individuals. One enhanced archer. One very confused Peter Parker.

And you, standing in front of them, with absolutely no introduction and an audience that ranged from mildly curious to actively hostile.