The majestic views that Venice offered were entirely lost on Nick Fury as he buzzed in over the canals in a small S.H.I.E.L.D. safari helicopter. It had been about noon when he got the call- an agent in Venice hadn't reported in and then, half an hour later, a call saying she'd been fished out of a canal and identified by authorities. Unfortunate, sure, but not something Nick usually handled personally- until they told him she was just one more victim in a recent rash of serial murders. And that they'd maybe been committed by vampires. Shitvampires. Last thing Nick needed cropping up. Definitely worth looking into himself, so he left his Secret Warriors to hop a jet to one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s European outposts and make a solo helicopter ride the rest of the way. Whatever this actually was, Nick was pretty damned sure he could handle it on his own and that he didn't need a lot of fool agents running around fucking it up.
He maneuvered his aircraft over the wide roof of a building across from the crime scene. It took a crushed trellis and a collision with a wrought iron table before he got the thing landed in the midst of the rooftop garden. The chopper's blades whirred to a stop and Fury climbed out, his gaze flickering over his surroundings as he assessed the damage he'd done with his landing. Whatever, S.H.I.E.L.D. would foot the bill. He had homicide to worry about and maybe vampires. Fuck, it couldn't really be vampires.