Not So Friendly Anymore

Chapter 22: Rage and Revelations

(I just wanted to give a special thanks to my first Patreon follower Bob. Thank you for the follow my friend.)

(Anyway have fun and thanks for reading.)

Parker Industries, Peter's Office

The door clicked open, and Maria Hill stepped inside, her usual air of authority filling the room. She moved with the precision of a soldier, her black boots tapping against the polished floor, her sharp gaze scanning the office before landing on Peter.

Peter, seated behind his desk with his feet propped up casually on the edge, didn't even glance at her. He was flipping through his tablet, exuding an air of disinterest.

"Maria Hill," Peter said finally, his voice dripping with mock politeness. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s queen of subtlety. To what do I owe this... disruption?"

Hill ignored the jab, her posture rigid. "Parker. We need to talk."

Peter raised an eyebrow, setting the tablet down. "Oh, we're starting with 'talk.' That's new for you people. Usually, it's threats first, demands second, and maybe, just maybe, a conversation after the dust settles." He leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Guess you're off-script today. Good for you."

"I'm not here for games," Hill said curtly, stepping closer to the desk. "This is serious."

Peter's smirk widened as he gestured toward her. "Serious? Oh, of course. When isn't it serious with S.H.I.E.L.D.? Helicarriers dropping out of the sky, rogue agents running amok, or my personal favorite: losing track of classified tech to villains who make it trend on social media." He tapped his temple. "Real airtight ship you're running there, Hill."

Hill's lips thinned, but she held her ground. "This isn't about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s past mistakes—"

"Oh, mistakes," Peter interrupted, feigning surprise. "You mean the catastrophic disasters you barely contain before another one pops up? What is it this time? Another mole inside your ranks? Or did Fury 'die' again?"

"I said I'm not here to talk about the past," Hill snapped, her voice rising slightly.

Peter didn't back down. He stood, his movements fluid and deliberate as he walked around the desk toward her. "Of course not. The past is messy for you, isn't it? All those decisions, all those innocent lives you trampled over because it was 'for the greater good.'" He stopped a few feet away, his tone now razor-sharp. "Tell me, Hill, how does it feel knowing that every crisis your agency faces is your own damn fault?"

Hill's eyes narrowed, but a flicker of guilt crossed her face.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Peter continued, circling her like a predator sizing up its prey. "I'm not wrong. How many times has S.H.I.E.L.D. created the very threats it needed to neutralize? Let me guess: you've got some rogue experiment, some off-the-books project that's gone haywire, and now you need me to fix it." He paused, his expression turning mocking. "Because God forbid S.H.I.E.L.D. actually handle its own messes."

"That's enough," Hill said through gritted teeth.

"Is it?" Peter countered, his voice rising. "Because I'm not done yet. You come into my office, my space, and act like you have any authority over me. Newsflash, Hill: you don't. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't own me, and it never will."

Hill opened her mouth to respond, but Peter cut her off again.

"And let's be real for a second: the only reason you're here is because you're desperate. S.H.I.E.L.D. is circling the drain, and you know it. You've burned every bridge, alienated every ally, and now, you're here. Crawling to the one person who doesn't need you." He leaned in closer, his voice cold. "How's that feel, Maria? Knowing you're out of options?"