It was a night so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.
Mo was about to fall asleep when suddenly there was a noise from the living room.
Half-asleep, Mo thought it was a burglar — after all, crime wasn't exactly rare in the U.S. But he was just too tired, so he decided to simply close his eyes and have his stand-in deal with it.
What he didn't expect, however, was—
When Steve, wielding an iron sword, reached the living room, he found a one-eyed Black man sitting on the sofa.
The man had a shaved head, wore a black leather trench coat, and had a black eyepatch over his left eye. His face was tense and serious.
Given his distinctive appearance and dramatic entrance, it was obvious:
This was none other than the legendary "Motherf**ker man," the one-eyed "hard-boiled egg," the head of the agents, and the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury.
Considering Fury's behavior in the original story, Mo quickly guessed his intentions — Nick Fury loved sneaking into people's houses and making dramatic entrances, trying to establish dominance in negotiations.
But Mo wasn't about to be easily manipulated.
He calmly extended his hand. A purple glow of invisible force passed through the wall, and in the next moment, the sofa from the living room floated into the bedroom.
Now, a bewildered Nick Fury came face to face with Mo.
"Good evening, Director."
Unlike Fury's grim expression, Mo smiled: "Looks like your little trick has been seen through. Aren't you going to say 'motherf**ker'?"
"Mo, the man who claims to be a Stand User," Fury said, unfazed. His mental fortitude as a top agent was impressive. "Your origins are a mystery. We can't find any information about you — it's as if you appeared out of thin air."
"You mean you even checked the East?" Mo chuckled. "Your influence really is far-reaching, Director."
"You seem to know a lot about me," Fury said calmly. "Have we met before? Or maybe you've seen me somewhere?"
"Since you've investigated China, have you heard of fortune-telling?" Mo asked.
"What's that?" Fury thought for a moment. "Is it predicting someone's remaining lifespan?"
"It's similar to your idea of prophecy," Mo explained. "In short, it means I can see the future."
"Is that so?" Fury mused skeptically. "Then why don't you tell me — what's in store for my future?"
"Well, nothing too extraordinary," Mo smiled. "You have good ideas… but your superpowered team will be full of troublemakers. You'll have to clean up after them like a babysitter. Not everyone is as obedient as Captain Marvel."
"You sure seem to know a lot," Fury said, narrowing his eye slightly. He hadn't told anyone yet about the Avengers initiative or Carol Danvers. "So, are you part of that team?"
"Sorry, I'm not."
Mo shook his head. "I have no interest in being a superhero."
"Oh? Why not?" Fury asked curiously.
"Because I hate being tied down by morality," Mo said bluntly. "If they realize I have no morals, they won't try to bind me with theirs."
"That's a... novel way of thinking," Fury commented. "So, what do you propose?"
"Don't worry. I'm not a saint, but I'm not a villain either," Mo said. "I'm reasonable. Since we each have our needs, let's cooperate."
"And your need is?" Fury immediately asked.
"Not sure yet," Mo replied. "Probably to witness some supernatural events and maybe use your resources to practice some magic... basically, cause you a little trouble. But it'll be mutually beneficial — we're both adults here. Cooperation benefits us both."
"Witness supernatural events? What good does that do you?" Fury asked.
"I'm just really interested," Mo lied casually. "After all, it's pretty exciting to see my own prophecies come true."
"Is that so?"
Fury didn't believe this flimsy excuse, but after some thought, he decided to agree for now — better to keep this unpredictable guy close than to let him run wild. He nodded and said, "Alright, I'll assign you as a technical consultant. You'll have some access to resources..."
But before he could finish, Fury's phone rang.
"What is it?"
Fury glanced at Mo, then answered the call. "Mm... Are you sure? Alright, stay put and await my orders."
What he didn't know was that Mo had secretly used Steve to eavesdrop on the call.
"Looks like our chat is over for now," Fury said, getting up. "Something urgent came up."
But just as he was about to leave, the bedroom door slammed shut with a flash of purple light.
"..."
Fury said nothing, slowly turning to look at Mo.
"If I'm not mistaken, you just invited me to be a technical consultant, right?" Mo said as he lazily got up from bed and stretched. "I'm quite interested in that 'urgent matter' you just got. What's this green-skinned monster about?"
---
In the helicopter, Fury's face looked terrible.
It was darker than coal in Minecraft, and even the agents around him didn't dare to talk to him.
Yes, Fury realized he had been tricked. Mo had used some strange "magic" to eavesdrop and forced his way into the mission.
Originally, Fury had absolutely no intention of agreeing to Mo's demands.
After all, he didn't trust Mo. There was too much uncertainty. And even if Mo tried to threaten or detain him, Fury wasn't someone who scared easily.
But what he hadn't expected was—
Mo casually pulled out a giant gold brick the size of a millstone from thin air.
Fury was stunned. Then Mo said something like, "Director, here's my sincerity. You wouldn't want your agents working without funding, would you?"
Fury had initially wanted to refuse, but… it was just too much.
That one gold brick alone could cover tens of millions of dollars of operations funding — and given how much Fury was secretly diverting funds for black projects behind Congress's back, he desperately needed resources.
Faced with that, how could he refuse?
So, feeling conflicted but tempted by the gold, Fury reluctantly brought Mo along.
There was still so much Fury wanted to ask him, but the urgent situation took priority. Now that they were together on the helicopter, he resumed questioning.
"Are there no limits to your abilities?" Fury couldn't help but ask. "Like this gold — can you create it at will?"
"Depends when I can go back," Mo shrugged. "Once I build a zombie pigman farm, I'll straight-up buy S.H.I.E.L.D."
"S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Fury asked. "What's that?"
"It's just a shorter name for your ridiculously long organization name," Mo waved his hand dismissively, then cut him off. "You're asking too many questions. How about we talk about the green monster first?"
"You're very interested in him?" Fury asked. "Is it because of your prophecy? How much do you know?"
"Dr. Bruce Banner," Mo said casually. "During a military experiment, an accident exposed him to gamma radiation, turning him into a green monster."
"You sure know a lot," Fury commented. "So, what do you want to do?"
"Fight him," Mo said, stroking his chin. "I haven't had a good fight in a while. I need to test my strength."
"Unfortunately, that's not something I can agree to," Fury said, making a mental note of Mo's "combativeness." He continued, "Although Bruce Banner loses control when he transforms, the military handles that. We're only monitoring him."
"I know," Mo nodded — he had read the original stories, after all. In the Hulk movie, S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't shown up at all.
In fact, Marvel hadn't even fully planned the MCU yet — each movie was standalone, and in Hulk, the military were the only antagonists.
"The military had him under control initially," Fury said, "but something went wrong. They've apparently been working on some shady experiments. Now, besides Hulk, there's another out-of-control monster… right in the streets of New York."
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