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"I thought I would stand trial," Akela says numbly.
Fury doesn't quite roll his eye. "All that training, plus you proved you're willing to take the hard orders, we're going to waste that?"
He pushes two folders across his desk to her. "Here's the start of your team," he says, like she isn't about to read all this. "Michael Peterson, Extremis variant, strength and endurance. Franklin Hall, you'll like this, used to be one of ours, Coulson dropped him into some kind of gravity experiment and left him there, we pulled him out and now he's ten feet tall and covered in liquid metal."
"I should like that?"
Fury grins, which is always terrifying. "Should keep things interesting."
"And we're a field team?"
"Blackest ops we run. You're an invisible team, none of you exist, no support, no rescues."
"No cavalry?" Akela quips, and immediately regrets it. "But, seriously, field work - " she taps her eyepatch.
Fury taps his own eyepatch. It's like the secret salute of an extremely exclusive club. "I have no qualms, Agent Amador."