Author's note: I know, I know. I have so many stories that need updating, I really have no business posting another. But this story, this stroke of genius, came to me a few months back and I already have the first seven chapters completed. So for the next seven weeks at least, you'll be getting regular updates (one or two days off, depending on how forgetful I am). I promise, I'll still update my other stories as often as I can. I even made it my New Year's Resolution, to complete all stories I have currently published.

ANYWAY. IMPORTANT ABOUT THIS STORY: This story is AU in that Iron Man 3 and Thor 2 never happened, and Loki is a member of the team without explanation. He's just there. This chapter is more of a prologue, the rest of the story will start next week and will be mostly from Clint's point of view (except he won't know he's Clint, of course). Please enjoy. :)

As Fury stood in the helicarrier and watched the live video feed, he had a bad feeling in his gut. This was not going to end well.

The agents were all sitting on the edge of their seats with bated breath, watching as the Avengers moved in on the threat: The giant Hydra robotic spider, rampaging through Cluj-Napoca. The message had come through about an hour ago, overriding all stations and playing on every television, every cell phone, and every computer with internet access.

"Attention world officials," The message had stated. "This is Hydra. We have developed a weapon with enough power to destroy the continent of Europe. Surrender to us or face your death."

Needless to say, the Avengers had been brought in, and now, as they arrived on the scene, SHIELD wasn't the only organization in the world watching the live feeds. Every news station was playing it, everywhere. The entire world could see what was going on in Cluj-Napoca. And in Fury's experience, whenever the entire world was watching anything, it never ended well.

But even Fury found himself holding his breath as Iron Man reached the spider first, blasting it with a few repulsor rays.

"There's Iron Man now," One news reporter on some channel stated. "But where are the rest of the Avengers?"

Of course, Stark always insisted on flying ahead. Fury wasn't sure whether it was because Tony liked showing off, his suit being faster than Fury's quinjets, or if he always did this to keep the others safer. Or if he liked a mixture of both. Stark never gave a reason and Fury never asked. But whatever the reason, it always worked out well, as by the time the rest of the team got there, Iron Man would have information to give them, and they could form a good game plan.

Speaking of the others, the quinjet had arrived at the scene. The many different reporters talking from the many different channels they had playing reminded Fury of sports commentaries.

"Captain America throws his shield, gets the spider's attention," said one.

"And there's Thor, swinging his hammer and lighting up the robot," said another.

"I think… Yep, there's Hawkeye up on that tower, he's responsible for that explosion you just saw," Says yet a third.

And so the battle wages, as the world waits.

There's a moment of cheering as the spider goes down… and then groans as three more rise up elsewhere.

The team continues fighting, they're in top form, working together seamlessly to take down the beasts. They've come a long way since their first coming together, and the enemies of the world all knew that the Avengers stood between them and their goals.

Maybe that's why Fury is so uneasy today. The first rule you learn in his… line of work… is to stay as small as possible. The bigger you are, the more people take notice. Instead, you have to be little. You have to be quiet. You have to be able to walk along the side of a room, perfectly visible, yet hiding in plain sight. If you're the one in the middle of the room, in the best suit, stealing all the attention, well… you're a sniper's easiest target.

Just ask Stark.

"And there's Iron Man, he's… he's shooting flares at the head of one of the robots," reports one station. "He seems to be drawing it's fire away from that building… And there's Captain America, leading civilians through the front door."

They're a well oiled machine, the Avengers are doing the best job they've done.

It's too easy.

The thought hits him with no warning, and without justification. There's no intel, he doesn't see any warnings, it's just a gut feeling. And Fury has learned over the years that his instincts rarely lead him astray.

"Patch me through," he orders urgently, snapping his finger at the nearest agent and placing an earpiece in his ear.

"Excuse me?" The agent asks.

"Patch me through," Fury demands, angrily this time. "NOW!"

"Y-yes sir," The Agent says, typing on his computer quickly.

Fury waits.

One spider goes down.

"Sir, there's some kind of interference," The Agent says. "I… I can't get a signal."

"Keep trying," Fury commands, all eyes on him. "Everybody. Patch. Me. Through."

His no-nonsense order has everyone typing by now, and there's an anxiousness in the air that wasn't there moments earlier.

"Sir," someone says. "Look!"

He's pointing at one of the monitors, where the live coverage is showing… Steve, frowning in concentration and tapping at his ear.

Fury glances at another monitor, where Hawkeye is doing the same.

Their signals are blocked too, he realizes. They lost communication with each other.

Iron Man lands beside Captain America, and his faceplate comes up. Hawkeye swings down as Loki materializes there, and Thor lands while the Black Widow appears seemingly out of nowhere for the impromptu meeting. The Hulk, seeing them gathered, runs to join.

Suddenly, the first spider, the one that had been brought down, begins to vibrate. The Avengers, all right around the corner, don't see the threat. The reporters are commenting with urgency and fear, some even yelling for the Avengers to move, despite knowing that they cannot be heard.

Fury braces himself, feeling, for the first time in a long time, fear, and a cold acceptance of that fear. This is it.

The spider explodes. The city is bathed in orange light as the fire burns through the entire block, burning blue and white, for three full seconds, before suddenly slowing, stopping, and being sucked back towards the spider, disappearing in much the same manner as a black hole.

The city is quiet. The reporters don't utter a sound. The agents in the helicarrier are stunned into silence. Not a whisper of a breath is heard.

The monitors all seem to be frozen, they are all still pointed at the same spot. There's no rubble in the site of the explosion. It's almost as if everything within two-hundred feet of the explosion just… ceased to exist.

The only sign of the buildings, the streets, the sidewalks… the Avengers… is the dark cloud of ash blowing in the wind.

The stations suddenly burst alive with sound, everyone everywhere wailing and screaming. Hope is lost. The Avengers are dead. Hydra has… won.

Fury turns to the Agents. "Turn them off," he orders quietly. The monitors go off. Everyone stares. Fury waits for several moments before sighing. Looking at everyone sadly (and watching them all freak at his display of sadness) he does the one thing he had hoped and prayed he would never have to do.

"I call a Code-89B7-6," he said.

There was a collective jaw-drop.

"Sir," Maria Hill said, eyes wide. "You mean…"

Fury nodded.

Hill let out a slow, deep breath before turning to the crowd. "SHIELD has never existed," she commanded rather than explained. "Wipe all hard-drives. Erase all databanks. Everyone, report to the hanger for transport. We're going Ghost. Pick a country of origin and stick to your Quinjet. Look alive, people, we self-destruct in ten minutes."

Everyone sets about to work in a flurry of panic, and Fury slowly leaves the bridge for the last time.

Phil Coulson follows him. "Sir," he says angrily. "We're not really leaving!?" It's a question, but also a statement of disbelief.

Fury turns and looks at Coulson. Phil's eyes are red; he's already forced himself to pull it together. Tough man, as he was good friends with all of the Avengers. "Yes, Agent, we are," Fury answers. For the sake of anyone within hearing distance. Leaning in a little closer, he allows a smirk. "Unless you're level nine," he says, just loudly enough for Coulson to hear.

Coulson looks slightly confused, but only for a moment, then he smiles. "You know," he says, standing up straighter. "I never was one for foreign food. I think I'll stick around the states for awhile."

"Good luck, Agent," Fury says. "I'm sure we'll stay in touch."

Phil turns and leaves, and Fury walks the other direction. The death of the Avengers is no doubt already being mourned all over the world, and he's too busy to join in. But even Fury isn't heartless, and before he leaves, he goes into the conference room, and he sits in one of the leather chairs. He leans on the glass table-top, and he allows himself one moment- just one… and he stands. He is a soldier. And from this moment on, he has a war to fight.