Noah really did shoot down that bullet.
It sounded absurd, but that was exactly what happened.
Constantine, the only one who understood what was going on, merely tilted his head and dismissed it. He could feel that Noah had started using magic. He just didn't intend to say anything about it.
They were out having fun.
So why ruin it?
Wick's mind was in chaos.
He couldn't connect the man who had dodged a sniper shot and then shot a bullet out of the air with the one who had fumbled slightly while changing a magazine. If he hadn't seen it himself, he would've thought he was losing his mind.
What kind of world was this?
Why were people like this appearing?
Was this man even human?
If not for the fact that Noah was wildly firing a gun with terrifying accuracy—and his close relationship with the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.—Wick would've thought he was a magician.
He had almost guessed it.
But experience limited imagination.
Noah didn't care what anyone thought.
He raised his head and looked toward the shooter.
Dozens of meters away, concealed perfectly, he still saw him clearly.
Bucky.
The man looked dazed. His will was gone, replaced by cold conditioning. A completely brainwashed agent.
Yet even so, he showed that expression.
That alone said everything.
Either Noah's move was too inhuman—or Noah simply wasn't trying to be human anymore.
Bucky took a sharp breath.
Then he turned and left without hesitation.
Noah stared at the fleeting figure on the rooftop, stunned.
What just happened?
The Winter Soldier… retreating?
He stood there for a long time. No more attacks came.
Only then did Noah lower the gun, drop it to the ground, and turn back toward Fury and the others.
His plan had failed.
He hadn't expected to scare Bucky off.
Did I just accomplish something?
As he walked, Noah considered it.
It really was something remarkable.
The Winter Soldier never quit. Never retreated.
Scaring him away like that—decades ago, that would've left the Red Room utterly confused.
When Noah reached Fury's group, he glanced over them.
Aside from Wick, who was clearly unsettled, everyone else was calm.
That made sense.
Everyone except Wick already knew who he was.
"Everything handled?" Fury looked around, then up at the building. "Too bad one escaped."
"Can't chase him. You know why." Noah shrugged. "And I forgot which gun was mine. Looks like I'll need another."
"No problem." Fury nodded. "Hill's on the way. Someone will take over."
He snorted.
"Attacking me directly. Looks like I need to move faster."
"You should." Noah nodded. "And start preparing for your new position."
He paused.
"How are Coulson's preparations?"
"Don't worry." Fury replied simply. "He's a professional."
That much was true.
Coulson wasn't just a good agent—his management skills were solid. Fury trusted him to handle S.H.I.E.L.D.'s collapse.
The new organization would absorb most of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s responsibilities anyway. That would shrink its scope and make things easier to control—especially from a distance.
The only discomfort was sentimental.
An organization founded by people like Howard Stark and Peggy Carter… fading like this.
But it couldn't be helped.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was already terminally ill.
Left unchecked, no one knew what it might become.
"By the way," Noah suddenly asked, "what are your plans now?"
"Or do you need me to take you somewhere?"
Fury thought for a moment.
"I'll stick with you for now," he said. "Hydra won't give up that easily. It's safer."
"I'll have Natasha investigate."
Noah raised an eyebrow.
Just Natasha?
He remembered how close she'd come to dying back then. If Steve hadn't reacted fast enough, things would've ended very differently.
Sam Wilson was also involved this time.
Future Captain America.
"One Natasha won't be enough," Noah said. "Call Rogers. He won't refuse—especially when it comes to Hydra."
Fury froze for a second.
Then he nodded.
"That's a good idea."
Natasha alone would struggle. Hydra was dangerous and meticulous. She was excellent—but not invincible.
Someone strong.
Someone who hated Hydra.
Steve Rogers fit perfectly.
Even without Noah's reminder, Fury would've gone to him eventually.
"I'll need a way to pull him out," Fury muttered, rubbing his chin.
Then he looked back at Noah.
"And you? What are you doing next?"
"Causing trouble," Noah replied calmly.
"Viggo Tarasov. You know him."
"Oh?" Fury narrowed his eye. "You've found him?"
"Yeah. He's at one of his bars."
Noah glanced at Wick.
"He knows the place."
"A bar…" Fury smiled faintly. "What if I lead Steve—and Hydra's assassins—there?"
"Then," Noah said, spreading his hands, "it'll be a good show."
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