Where I go I just don't know... Characters: Fury, OT Sinister Setting: Late evening, Baton Rouge Hospital Content: Cursing probably Summary: Hospitalized Nick tries to work and is continually interrupted
"Can't you see I'm busy?" Nick snarled and the matronly nurse glared at him and again tried to explain that there were no cell phones allowed in here and anyway his dinner was ready and wouldn't he like his nice Halloween cupcake? "BITCH I DO NOT WANT YOUR FUCKING CUPCAKE!" Nick screamed and rather impressively balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder while chucking the cupcake at the wall with his good arm. His only arm. The nurse scurried out, scowling, and would likely return soon with a sedative. Fury did not want to be here. He wanted to be in New York City with his team, attending the ridiculous party he'd called and told Stark about earlier where the Avengers were to gather intel in disguise. Someone at that place knew who was behind this virus in New Orleans and Nick needed that information. He would just have to trust Stark to handle it and he found very grudgingly that he did trust him. Of course he still didn't like him, but it was difficult not to trust a man who followed an order like "Cut off my arm" without hesitation and then carried you unconscious hundreds of feet above a hellish wasteland full of ravenous undead. It was kind of a bonding experience.
As soon as they'd returned to headquarters he'd been rushed out of New Orleans and, despite his protests, was put into a hospital in Baton Rouge. Even though his arm was healing perfectly and he felt fine, the doctors insisted he stay and now the nurses weren't even letting him get his work done. Right now that work was damage control for all the videos that had been posted up of the events in New Orleans. Particularly troubling was the public response over the damage and the one super who had been bitten. Fury was going to have to figure out how to fix the Avengers' image- he needed to hire a press agent or something. The other videos he didn't mind as much and he had to say he was particularly pleased at the footage of his religious rant and the loss of his arm. He was secretly glad that his physique was appreciated- working out every day for the past sixty-five years apparently paid off. Still, for the most part, the videos were a PR nightmare. But if he ever met her, he would take the bitch who posted them out to dinner.