Chapter 1296 - Ch: 51-61

Chapter 51 – Back to New York

New York, 178A Greenwich Village.

When Lin Che brought the three of them back to the safe-house, Pietro had mapped the entire space the instant he stepped inside.

His super-speed let him learn the layout of every room, the location of every exit, and the structural cracks that might hide surveillance devices—all in 0.2 seconds.

"Better than a HYDRA cell," he assessed curtly, body still coiled like a leopard ready to spring. "At least the air moves."

Wanda's reaction was the exact opposite.

She didn't move; she simply stood at the entrance and closed her eyes.

Scarlet energy rippled out from her feet, touching walls, ceiling, and floor like gentle rings on water.

The energy resonated with the safe-house's protective runes, producing a faint, almost inaudible hum.

"It's… safe here." She opened her eyes; a tired relief flickered through crimson pupils. "The barrier is intact, and some older power watches over this place."

"Defense array," Lin Che confirmed. "Magical interference will blind most tracking methods."

He turned to the two newcomers, voice turning business-like. "Listen—this is your temporary Base until I'm sure the outside world is safe. Do not leave."

Pietro shot back at once, "What about training? You said you'd make us stronger."

"You'll get it. But first—"

Lin Che pointed upstairs. "There are empty rooms up there. Change clothes, get something to eat."

"Wanda, your room has sedatives. If you feel yourself losing control, use them anytime."

Wanda gave a small nod, fingers unconsciously rubbing the faint bruise around her wrist—the Mark left by HYDRA's suppression cuff.

Pietro glanced at his sister and wrapped his hand around her wrist; the warm contact loosened the tension in her shoulders.

"Come with me," Angela spoke.

She had reached the stairway without a sound; pure-white eyes looked calm under the safe-house's cold lights. "Rooms are assigned. Training ground in one hour."

Once the pair vanished upstairs, Lin Che called up the safe-house's holographic control interface.

A dozen monitors showed every entrance to Greenwich Village; all quiet.

But just as he reached for the perimeter-sensor data, the comm vibrated.

Encrypted frequency, specific ID code.

Natasha.

"Lin Che," her voice came, wind and distant city noise in the background. "I need a meet. Situation's changed."

"You know the safe-house coordinates."

"No—HYDRA may have it tagged. Three hours, Pier 3 under Brooklyn Bridge, abandoned warehouse. Come alone."

The line cut dead.

Lin Che stared at the silent comm; Natasha's tone carried a rare tightness.

Not fear—something more dangerous: a top-tier Agentrealizing she'd become prey.

He turned toward the gear bay and began selecting tools.

"You're going out," Angela said from behind.

She had returned unnoticed, luminous wings folded close.

"Natasha may be in trouble."

"Need backup?"

"Not yet." Lin Che slid gear into inner pockets of his tac coat. "If I'm not back in three hours, or if you get my emergency ping—"

He tapped a red button on the console. "Hit the Protect switch. The safe-house seals; no one gets in but me."

Angela glanced at the button and nodded. "Understood. What about the kids?"

"Start training as planned—basic conditioning and energy sensing." Lin Che paused at the air-lock. "Especially Wanda. Her power's unstable; emotional spikes could cascade. Watch her."

The door hissed shut.

In the training hall Pietro, already in light workout gear, blurred across the floor, testing his speed limit.

He ricocheted between walls, stirring faint air currents.

Wanda sat quietly in the center, palms up on her knees.

Scarlet mist, alive and aware, twined through her fingers—condensing into tiny sparks, then thinning to a gauze.

Her breathing was steady, but fine sweat beaded her forehead.

Angela stepped to the edge, pale eyes assessing.

"Stop," she told Pietro.

The silver-haired teen appeared before her, so fast even his after-image hadn't fully faded. "I can go faster."

"Speed isn't everything." Angela's voice stayed level. "Right now you're just sprinting and turning. A real speedster thinks, judges, and plots a path at full velocity."

"Next, I'll spawn random energy obstacles; you'll dodge them while completing assigned tasks."

She turned to Wanda. "And you must learn the difference between releasing power and being released by it. Gather the energy into your left palm, compress it into a sphere no wider than three centimeters, and hold it for thirty seconds."

Wanda inhaled, focusing.

Scarlet energy pooled toward her left hand, but stray filaments kept snapping free, crackling softly in the air.

Angela watched, offering no correction.

Some lessons must be learned alone.

Three hours earlier, Triskelion Headquarters, Nick Fury's office.

Natasha stood before the desk, spine straight, arms relaxed at her sides.

Standard briefing posture—yet she felt every muscle coiled, heard blood drumming in her ears.

Since the return from Sokovia, every minute had felt like tiptoeing through a minefield.

"So," Fury said from his oversized chair, single eye fixed on her, fingers drumming the desk, "you breached a suspected HYDRA facility, rescued twenty-plus test subjects, saw stacks of 'internal files,' and then the Baseself-destructed and the files burned."

His tone was flat, each word a scalpel.

"Yes, Director."

"And your chief witness is one man—Lin Che. No ID, no file, unknown powers, unknown motives."

"He saved us during the Battle of New York, Director. He stopped Loki; he was pivotal."

Fury leaned forward, hands clasped. "Natasha, I've held this chair for over a decade because I doubt everything."

"HYDRA? Really? Or did you see forged papers and a staged scene meant to convince you a dead organization has risen?"

His skepticism poured ice down her spine.

"I saw it with my own eyes—"

"Eyes lie," Fury cut in, "especially when someone wants you to see something. Tell me—besides you and Lin Che, who else viewed these 'files'? Angela? The Maximoff girl? Her brother?"

"Angela was sweeping the perimeter; Wanda and Pietrowere locked in the test wing—none of them entered the archive."

"So only two people." Fury eased back, gaze sharp. "Two, with zero physical evidence, claiming deep HYDRAinfiltration inside S.H.I.E.L.D. Know what that sounds like?"

Natasha stayed silent.

"Paranoia—or worse, a rogue Agent inventing excuses." Fury's voice chilled. "The Oversight Committee has noticed your activities."

"Unauthorized cross-border ops, cooperation with an unidentified enhanced, potential for international incidents—any one is enough for an inquiry."

"Director, I—"

The office door burst open.

Chapter 52: Lin Che Wanted

It wasn't a knock before entering, but a direct, forceful intrusion.

Four Agents in S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms walked in, their movements coordinated and alert, hands always near the holsters at their waists.

Leading them was a bald man, his expression as cold as if he were wearing a mask.

"Agent Romanoff." His voice had no fluctuation. "Emergency order from the Oversight Committee. Please proceed with us to the Interrogation Room immediately to undergo questioning regarding the Sokovia operation."

Natasha's muscles instantly entered a combat state, but she forced herself to remain still.

Her gaze turned toward Fury.

Fury stared at the bald man, his single eye narrowing. "Who issued the order?"

"Secretary Alexander Pierce and three senior representatives of the Oversight Committee." The bald man presented an electronic document, a hologram unfolding in the air, with seals and signatures clearly visible. "Procedure number... highest priority."

The format was perfect.

The signatures were authentic.

The procedure was legal.

Everything was impeccable.

Except for the timing.

It was too coincidental, as if it had been prepared long ago.

"I need to contact my lawyer and complete the handover of my current work," Natasha said, her voice steady.

"Sorry, not allowed." The bald man shook his head. "During an emergency review, the subject is prohibited from accessing any channels that could be used for collusion or the destruction of evidence. Your personal communication devices have been temporarily seized, and your office permissions have been frozen."

Standard procedure.

But at this moment, it meant total isolation.

Natasha looked at Fury again.

Fury remained silent for a few seconds, then slowly nodded. "Cooperate with them, Natasha. S.H.I.E.L.D.procedures must be followed."

His tone was calm, but Natasha caught a subtle movement of his finger.

His index finger tapped lightly three times under the table.

Their old signal: Danger, prepare to escape.

"I understand, Director," Natasha said, her hands slowly rising to her shoulders to show she was not a threat.

She walked toward the door with a steady pace.

At the exact moment she passed the bald man, her body slid to the left without warning, her elbow smashing into the throat of the nearest Agent like a hammer, while her right leg swept into the knees of another.

The dull thud of dislocated bones and cries of pain erupted simultaneously.

"Stop her!" The bald man drew his gun, but Natasha had already snatched the pistol from the fallen Agent and fired three consecutive shots into the ceiling.

The fire sprinkler system activated in response, and a curtain of cold water poured down.

In the chaos, Natasha crashed through the tempered glass window and leaped out from the seventh floor.

Mid-air, the claw of her grappling hook gun caught the edge of a sixth-floor window, and she used the momentum to swing into the lower corridor.

Alarms blared throughout the entire building.

But she did not stop.

If the Oversight Committee's order was real, then the entire Triskelion Headquarters might no longer be safe.

If the order was a HYDRA trap... that was even worse.

She crawled through the ventilation ducts, moving toward the underground parking garage based on the structural diagrams in her memory.

She knocked out two isolated clerks, borrowed their access cards to pass through security doors, and finally successfully reached the parking garage.

Her personal vehicle had been locked down, but S.H.I.E.L.D. garages never lacked for transportation.

She chose an inconspicuous black Chevrolet and used an emergency code to start the engine.

Just as she drove out of the underground tunnel and merged into the Washington D.C. traffic, the car radio automatically activated:

"...Emergency broadcast. Senior S.H.I.E.L.D. AgentNatasha Romanoff is now wanted globally by the World Security Council for suspected leaking of classified intelligence, unauthorized cross-border action, and illegal cooperation with hostile superpowered individuals. If spotted, please contact local law enforcement immediately..."

A wanted notice.

Globally wanted.

HYDRA not only wanted to purge her internally but also intended to completely smear her at the public level.

Anything said by a wanted Agent would lose all credibility.

Natasha turned off the radio, her knuckles turning white from the force of her grip.

She needed an absolutely safe place and someone she could still trust.

Her communicator had been lost during the escape, but she remembered several contact methods that would not leave a digital footprint.

She drove the car into an abandoned gas station on the outskirts of New York and found an old-fashioned payphone.

Such antiques were nearly impossible to track in real-time.

The first number was Nick Fury's top-secret line.

It connected after three rings. There was no greeting, only Fury's low voice: "Speak."

"Director, it's me. The Oversight Committee is a trap; they wanted to lock me in an Interrogation Room where an 'accident' would surely be arranged. HYDRA's penetration is deeper than we imagined; there might be their people throughout the entire building."

A brief silence. A silence that lasted too long.

"Where is the evidence, Natasha?" Fury's voice betrayed no emotion. "Besides your subjective judgment and the testimony of that Lin Che of unknown origin, what else do you have?"

"How do you expect me to believe that an organization that should have died out seventy years ago is not only still alive but has also taken control of the S.H.I.E.L.D. I personally manage?"

His suspicion was as sharp as a blade.

"I saw the documents with my own eyes..."

"Eyes can lie," Fury repeated his words from the office earlier. "Especially in high-pressure environments, in situations meticulously arranged by someone. Perhaps what you saw was exactly what they wanted you to see."

"Perhaps that Lin Che is himself a pawn for certain people, meant to instill this suspicion in you and thereby create a rift within S.H.I.E.L.D."

Natasha felt a wave of coldness.

It wasn't because of Fury's suspicion.

His paranoia was legendary.

It was because the possibility he mentioned was logically sound.

If Lin Che was a HYDRA Agent, if the entire Sokoviaoperation was a play, if those documents were all forgeries... then everything she was doing now was serving the enemy.

"I need to see you, Director," she insisted. "Talk face-to-face. If you think I'm lying, you can interrogate me yourself. But not through the Oversight Committee, and not through any channel that might be infiltrated."

An even longer silence.

Then Fury said, "Brooklyn, Old Shipyard District, Pier 3 Warehouse. Thirty minutes. If you can make it."

The call disconnected.

Natasha discarded the receiver and slipped out through the back door of the gas station.

The sound of engines came from the distance—not ordinary vehicles, but modified heavy SUVs, at least three of them.

She blended into the shadows of the woods and began to run.

Not to flee, but to keep the appointment.

Thirty minutes later, by the riverside in Brooklyn.

The Old Shipyard District looked like a graveyard of rusted steel in the night.

The Pier 3 Warehouse was half-submerged in the black river water, with faint light leaking through holes in its corrugated iron walls.

Natasha entered through the waterway, sliding into the interior of the warehouse like a ghost.

The place was filled with discarded mechanical parts and moldy wooden crates, the air thick with the smell of rust and stagnant water.

"You are four minutes late."

Fury's voice came from the shadows.

He stood by a pile of wooden crates, his black trench coat nearly merging with the darkness, with only his single eye reflecting cold light in the dimness.

Natasha walked over quickly and lowered her voice. "Director, we must be careful. If HYDRA has really infiltrated to that extent, they might have tapped your lines and could know this location..."

"I know," Fury interrupted her, his voice unusually calm. "That's why I chose this place."

Natasha was stunned.

At that very instant, the screech of brakes came from outside the warehouse, followed by the dull thud of car doors slamming and the sound of rapid footsteps.

More than one team, at least two groups, had surrounded the warehouse from different directions.

"Director..." Natasha's hand reached for her holster.

But Fury's movements were faster.

He grabbed her wrist with enough force to make her bones ache and shoved her toward a hidden passage entrance at the back of the warehouse...

Chapter 53: Nick Fury Initiates Internal Review

That was the waterway leading beneath the docks.

"Listen." Nick Fury's voice was extremely low, but every word was like a nail being driven into her ear. "I can't trust you right now, Natasha. Your story is too perfect, too much like a script a turncoat would use to exonerate themselves."

"But I can't completely disbelieve you either... because if you're right, if HYDRA really has returned, then I must keep a card up my sleeve."

He stared into her eyes, his single eye devoid of any warmth. "So I want you to do one thing. Disappear. Completely. Go find that Lin Che, go to his side, gain his trust, and find out what he's all about."

"If he's clean, if he really has evidence of HYDRA, then gather intelligence through him. If he's someone's pawn..."

He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear.

If Lin Che was an enemy, then Natasha was to deal with him from the inside.

"You want me to be a double Agent." Natasha's voice was dry.

"I want you to prove your loyalty." Fury released her wrist and gave her a push. "Prove it with actions. Now, go!"

Natasha gave him one last look before turning and rushing into the passage. The darkness swallowed her figure, and the sound of water masked her footsteps.

Fury stood where he was, slowly turning around.

The front door of the warehouse was kicked open, and six fully armed Agents rushed in, tactical flashlights on their gun barrels cutting through the darkness.

The Bald Man leading them froze for a moment when he saw him.

"Director? What are you doing here?"

Fury's single eye swept over these people, over the gun barrels they had yet to lower.

He smiled, a smile as cold as a river's surface on a winter night.

"I'm chasing a fugitive," he said, his voice echoing in the empty warehouse. "It seems our goals are aligned."

The Bald Man hesitated for a split second, and his gun barrel lowered almost imperceptibly. "Yes, Director. Goals are aligned."

But the blockade vaguely formed by those gun barrels did not disperse.

The air solidified; only the sound of rain drumming against the corrugated iron roof remained.

Fury seemed oblivious, merely sliding his hand slowly into his trench coat pocket... an action that made the knuckles of all the Agents turn slightly white.

What he pulled out was not a weapon, but a flat silver flask.

He unscrewed the cap and took a sip for himself. The pungent liquid burned his throat and made the sharp light in his single eye even deeper.

"Report the situation." His voice was flat, as if it were just a routine mission handover. "Is the perimeter lockdown complete? Have people been sent to the underwater passage exit?"

His composure actually caused the momentum of the surrounders to falter slightly.

The Bald Man exchanged a look with his teammates and finally lowered his gun, beginning a routine report.

Fury listened, nodding occasionally as if everything were under control.

Only he knew that his other hand, still in his pocket, was silently gripping a specially modified miniature pistol.

When his black SUV pulled into the underground garage of the World Security Council headquarters, an almost imperceptible electronic beep came from the car's communicator.

He took off his headset and looked at the floor numbers flashing above the elevator with eyes as cold as iron.

World Security Council Headquarters, Top Floor Office.

Alexander Pierce's office occupied half of the entire floor.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the night view of Washington D.C. was like a sea of brilliant stars, where power and secrets intertwined under the city lights.

The interior decor was modern minimalist, but every piece of furniture and every painting was worth a fortune, revealing the Master's hidden influence.

Pierce sat behind his massive desk, his fingers lightly tapping the polished surface.

He was reviewing a document... regarding the budget request for Phase Three of the Insight Project.

The plan was grand: three helicarriers equipped with precision strike systems, using Zolas Algorithm to predict and eliminate potential threats worldwide.

A brave new World. An orderly World.

A knock sounded at the door, neither hurried nor slow.

Pierce looked up, his face instantly piling on that warm, hypocritical smile characteristic of politicians. "Come in."

The door opened, and Nick Fury strode in.

He wore his signature black leather trench coat, his single eye sweeping over every corner of the office before finally landing on Pierce's face.

"Pierce." Fury skipped the pleasantries and walked straight to the desk. "We need to talk."

Pierce stood up, walked around the desk, and extended his hand. "Nick, what wind blows you here?"

"I thought you were busy dealing with the Natasha Romanoff matter. The warrant has been issued, and the Council is taking this case very seriously."

Fury did not shake that hand.

With his hands behind his back, he kept his gaze fixed on Pierce, walking with steady steps to the other side of the desk. "Natasha's situation is indeed tricky, but I'm more concerned about the internal state of S.H.I.E.L.D."

He paused, letting the weight of those words sink into the air.

"There have been rumors lately that HYDRA wasn't completely eradicated and has been lurking within our ranks. What do you think?"

The smile on Pierce's face stiffened for a moment before returning to normal.

He slowly sat back in his chair, fingers interlaced across his chest, leaning back slightly in a listening and thinking posture.

"HYDRA?" There was a perfect amount of surprise and a hint of disdain in his voice. "Nick, you don't actually believe those absurdities, do you?"

"The S.H.I.E.L.D. security system was built by our own hands, and every Agent has undergone rigorous vetting. The era of the Red Skull is long gone; HYDRA has been dead for decades."

"The corpse has rotted, but the seeds might still be alive." Fury walked up to Pierce's desk step by step, leaning forward with his hands on the surface.

This posture was oppressive, the sharpness in his single eye almost tangible. "There's no smoke without fire, Pierce. I won't easily believe rumors, but I won't ignore any potential threat either."

Their gazes clashed in the air.

Pierce was the first to look away. He looked down to adjust his cufflink, the movement elegant and composed. "So, what do you want to do?"

"A full-scale investigation." Fury straightened up, but his gaze didn't leave Pierce's face. "A thorough internal purge of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Starting from the top, vetting everyone's background, financial records, and mission logs. Especially those with access to sensitive projects."

"Like the Insight Project?" Pierce asked softly.

"Like all projects," Fury said. "The investigation needs your support, Alexander. You're the former Director and current Council representative; your influence can push this through."

Pierce feigned contemplation, his finger lightly tapping his chin.

His gaze drifted to the night view outside the window before turning back to Fury's face. "An investigation is possible, but it requires time and resources. And, Nick, you must understand..."

"An internal review on this scale will trigger panic. Agents will suspect each other, departments will become divided, and efficiency will drop. And right now, what we need most is efficiency and stability."

Chapter 54: Pierce Activates the Winter Soldier

Alexander Pierce stood up, walked to the liquor cabinet, poured two glasses of whiskey, and handed one to Fury. "The Insight Project has reached a critical stage. The three helicarriers are nearing completion, and Zolas Algorithm is undergoing final debugging. Starting an internal storm now could potentially derail the entire project."

Fury took the glass but didn't drink. "If S.H.I.E.L.D. truly has HYDRA within its ranks, then the Insight Projectmight have been their tool from the start—using our resources to build their weapons."

Pierce smiled, a look of helplessness, understanding, and the tolerance of an elder toward a junior on his face. "Nick, you always see the World as too dark."

"The Insight Project is meant to protect the World, to eliminate threats before they can even form. This is progress; it is necessary evolution."

He took a sip of his drink. "But if you insist on investigating... I can support it."

"However, I need a timeline and a scope. We cannot indefinitely vet everyone, or S.H.I.E.L.D. will truly become paralyzed."

Fury stared at him, at the man who had once mentored him, promoted him, and now sat at the pinnacle of power.

"Three months," he said. "We'll start with personnel with Level Eight Clearance and above. I will directly lead the investigation team, and I will select the members."

"Including me?" Pierce raised an eyebrow.

"Including everyone." Fury set down his glass, the collision with the desk making a crisp sound. "If you are truly innocent, Alexander, then you should welcome this investigation. It can clear your name and absolve S.H.I.E.L.D. of suspicion."

The smile on Pierce's face became somewhat complicated.

He walked back behind his desk, picked up a pen, and casually drew a few strokes on a document. The movement looked like signing, but he was actually just doodling in the margin.

"Alright, Nick. I will inform the Council and support your investigation." He looked up, his eyes sincere... or sufficiently well-feigned. "But I hope you can find evidence quickly to prove these rumors false."

"Otherwise, it will be difficult for me to explain things to the Council. Some people already have concerns about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s expansion of power, and if we add the scandal of 'internal infiltration'..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but the threat was clear.

Fury replied with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I will do my best. If there truly are HYDRA Agents lurking inside S.H.I.E.L.D., I will certainly find them and bring them to justice."

He turned and walked toward the door, the hem of his black trench coat tracing a sharp arc.

When he reached the door, he stopped without turning back. "By the way, Alexander. Natasha Romanoff..."

"She was once one of my most trusted Agents. If she truly is a traitor, I will deal with her personally. But if she is not..."

He turned his head slightly, his single eye reflecting a cold gleam under the office lights.

"...then the person who framed her had better pray they don't fall into my hands."

The door closed with a soft, muffled thud.

Inside the office, the smile on Alexander Pierce's face vanished bit by bit, leaving only a face as cold as a mask.

He stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, watching Fury's black car drive away from the headquarters below, its taillights drawing two red lines in the night.

"Suspicion is a seed, Nick," he murmured to his reflection in the window. "And you insist on watering it until it becomes thorns."

He turned back to his desk and opened the bottom drawer, which required biometric identification.

Inside lay a badge: black background, red skull, and six ferocious tentacles.

He didn't touch the badge but pressed a hidden communication button on the inside of the drawer.

The line connected using the highest level of encryption.

"The Winter Soldier needs to be woken up ahead of schedule." Pierce's voice was frighteningly calm. "There is one target that must be completely eliminated. Highest priority."

A voice, encrypted and devoid of emotion, confirmed from the communicator, "Target identity?"

"Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D." When Pierce spoke the name, the last trace of complex emotion in his eyes was replaced by pure coldness. "He knows too much. He will become an obstacle. Make him disappear quietly before he causes substantial damage."

"Action directives?"

"Clean and absolute. Like an accident, or a perfect enemy attack. In the place he least expects it." Pierce walked to the liquor cabinet, poured a small glass of spirits, but didn't drink it. "Make him understand that those who try to pry into the Shadow will ultimately be consumed by the Shadow."

"Received. Command confirmed. Winter Soldier, activated."

The communication cut off.

Pierce downed the drink in his glass.

The strong liquor burned his throat but couldn't warm the ice in his heart.

The dawn of a new era has no room for the watchmen of the old days.

"Hail HYDRA."

He softly uttered the oath, his voice dissipating in the empty, expensive office, unheard by anyone... New York, Brooklyn, abandoned Pier 3 warehouse.

Lin Che arrived fifteen minutes earlier than the agreed time. He didn't "walk" in; instead, his mind stirred slightly.

Amidst a subtle spatial ripple that was almost imperceptible to the naked eye, his figure appeared directly in the shadows on the second floor of the warehouse.

Rainwater dripped through the rusted roof but quietly slipped away three inches from his body, as if repelled by an invisible barrier.

The ability of the Psychic Master silently unfolded, instantly "perceiving" six thought sources filled with killing intent and anxiety, and one weak fluctuation deep inside, wrapped in pain and tenacity.

"Quite a setup." Lin Che smiled silently, his eyes holding a nearly languid scrutiny.

He locked onto the two gunmen at the vantage points on the second floor.

God-level Stealth activated, and his presence was "erased" from all perception.

He walked behind the first sniper as if taking a leisurely stroll and gently tapped the back of his neck with a finger.

Hulk Power was precisely controlled to the millisecond; a subtle, imperceptible vibration penetrated the skin, instantly blocking neural transmission. The gunman slumped silently.

The second gunman seemed to sense something was wrong and snapped his head around, only to see an empty shadow.

The next second, Lin Che stepped out from the shadow in front of him like a phantom, applying the same light tap.

Everything returned to silence.

Having dealt with the vantage points, Lin Che turned his gaze toward the four-person tactical team on the first floor.

Their mental fluctuations were laid out before him like an open book.

"Let's try this." Lin Che's mind stirred, and basic Speed Force activated.

The World instantly slowed and froze in his eyes.

He effortlessly walked down the stairs, strolled past the four-person team in the near-static time, took the firing pins and magazines from their firearms, and casually pulled a HYDRA badge from one man's inner pocket.

The flow of time resumed.

The four men simultaneously realized their firearms felt abnormally light, and their expressions changed drastically!

Before they could react, Lin Che had already made his move.

He didn't even move; with a slight mental command, the air around the four men suddenly seemed to turn into heavy glue, slowing their movements by half a beat.

Immediately afterward, Lin Che flicked his fingers repeatedly, and four strands of air compressed to the extreme accurately struck their necks.

Thump! Thump... The four men collapsed one after another. The entire process took less than a second, leaving only the sound of the rain.

Chapter 55 – Awakening the Winter Soldier

Natasha pressed her back against the icy container wall, fighting the throbbing in her wounded left shoulder, every sense stretched wire-taut.

Above her, she caught two almost inaudible thuds; then, from the tactical team downstairs, came a brief, chaotic rustle of cloth and bodies hitting the floor.

No gunshots, no shouts, no real resistance—everything sank into silence within two or three seconds, leaving only the rain that was falling harder and harder.

That silence was more terrifying than the fiercest firefight she had ever survived.

The way the intruder had swept the place lay far beyond her definitions of "infiltration" or "assault."

Footsteps sounded, unhurried, splashing through puddles yet strangely light.

A figure stepped around the container and appeared in front of her.

It was Lin Che.

He looked… spotless, as if he had not walked through a rainy night at all.

His gaze calmly brushed over her injury before he flicked something to her feet.

The cold HYDRA emblem glinted ominously in the dim light.

"Cleanup complete," he said, voice as unruffled as his face, showing no sign he had just carried out an efficient purge. "Seems your old employers prepared a rather unfriendly welcome."

Outside, the rain kept pouring, washing the night and washing away every trace of the one-sided massacre that had just ended.

Inside, under the warehouse's murky light, Lin Che stood as if he were the sole master of this domain.

And Natasha understood she had stepped into a whirlpool far deeper and darker than S.H.I.E.L.D. or HYDRA… Siberian wilderness, HYDRA Base.

Buried deep beneath the permafrost, the Base had remained cold and silent for decades.

The ventilation still ran, and the air reeked of rusted metal and the acrid bite of sub-zero cold.

Only a few red lamps—powered by the emergency circuit—cast blood-colored shadows at the corridor's end.

Helmut Zemo stood before the console, the screen's glow lighting his face.

The man wore an old but immaculate coat; his visage was as cold and hard as marble, save for the icy fervor burning in his eyes.

On the screen, six cryo-pods were displayed. The one in the center was labeled: WS-01, Winter Soldier.

Zemo produced a small metal box containing a handwritten notebook.

He opened it to the page that bore the wake-up command.

Donning a special headset, he spoke into the microphone and began reciting the code.

The first word was Russian: "Reaper."

The pod's monitor flickered; the life-signs line twitched from flat to faintly jagged.

The second word: "Dawn."

Liquid nitrogen vented; white mist spilled out, churning like blood under the red lamps.

The third phrase, a string of mixed cues: "One, Furnace, Homecoming, Debt."

A low mechanical groan sounded as the cryo-lid slowly lifted.

More white vapor billowed forth, gradually revealing the tall figure inside.

Bucky Barnes lay within, his bare left arm cold silver metal, his right arm and torso dusted with frost.

His face looked older than Captain America remembered, yet still held the outlines of the Brooklyn youth from seventy years ago—now eroded by pain and emptiness.

Zemo spoke the final activation sequence, voice echoing through the empty facility: "Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Dawn, Furnace, Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight-Car."

The Winter Soldier opened his eyes.

A metal arm emerged from the mist, fingers spreading and clenching with faint hydraulic whispers.

Frost shook from his hair and lashes.

The Winter Soldier opened his eyes.

In them there was no confusion, no memory—only programmed, icy commands.

Find the target.

Eliminate the target.

"Mission?" His voice rasped like rusted gears grinding.

Zemo closed the notebook and met those hollow eyes.

"Nick Fury," he said, tone as calm as a frozen lake, "Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., key executor of the Insight Project. He is nearing the truth and threatening HYDRA's decades-long design."

He drew a photograph from his coat.

Nick Fury's single cold eye stared out, the S.H.I.E.L.D.headquarters behind him.

"Insight is about to launch; a new World order is at hand. But Fury has begun to suspect; he's reallocating resources to investigate internally. He must be removed before he undoes everything."

Bucky Barnes' brow creased—barely perceptible.

Something buried deep flashed in the dark, then was submerged again beneath cold programming.

"He is a trained operative—tight security, hidden movements—but you are a ghost," Zemo went on. "He knows the Winter Soldier exists, yet never expects the blade to come from within the very organization he protects."

He called up a file; the screen scrolled through Fury's recent schedule, security details, and habitual routes.

"Your strike must be precise, swift, and untraceable. Once Fury is dead, nothing will hinder Insight. HYDRA will be reborn in the dawn of the new age—and you will pave that road."

Bucky stepped from the pod, bare feet on the freezing metal floor.

He showed no discomfort, merely flexed his metal left arm, opening and closing the fingers to test the mechanism.

"Equipment," he said.

Zemo pointed to a sealed crate in the corner.

Bucky opened it: a charcoal-gray tactical suit, an array of weapons, and the red-starred arm-bracer.

He suited up in silence, every movement efficient and exact.

When the bracer locked onto the metal arm, his bearing shifted completely—he had become a cold instrument.

"Time?" Bucky asked.

"Six hours. Washington D.C.," Zemo answered, bringing up a satellite image. "Nick Fury is at home—that will be his grave."

He regarded the Winter Soldier, eyes devoid of warmth, only calculation.

"You are more than an assassin; you are a signal. Fury's Death will throw S.H.I.E.L.D. into chaos, send them stumbling blindly for the truth. And while they grope in the dark, Insight will rise."

Bucky Barnes—no, the Winter Soldier—gave his gear a final check.

He lifted a modified sniper rifle, fingers gliding over the frame with the familiarity of breathing.

Without a word he turned toward the exit.

His footsteps echoed down the empty corridor, fading into the distance.

Zemo remained alone at the console, the red light stretching his shadow long across the floor.

"Order must be established, whatever the cost," he murmured, pressing the photograph to his chest. "HYDRA's Insight will be humanity's best safeguard. And Fury… is the disease that must be excised."

He cut the emergency power; the facility sank into total darkness, with only a distant, sigh-like wind whispering through the vents.

Chapter 56: Angela Trains the Wanda Siblings

Meanwhile, inside the training grounds of the safe house at 178A Greenwich Village, New York...

A vastly different but equally intense "awakening" was taking place.

Angela stood in the center of the arena, her wings of light slightly folded behind her, her pure white eyes locked onto Wanda.

The red-haired girl sat cross-legged on the ground. Between her upward-turned palms, Chaos Magic coiled like a living thing... at times condensing into sharp points of light, at others spreading into a dangerous, thin veil. Every pulse mirrored her unsteady breathing.

"Breathing is not a physiological need; it is a rhythm," Angela's voice was as calm as a deep pool. "Your magic is synchronized with your emotions. It expands when you are afraid, burns when you are angry, and when you are sad... it erodes reality."

Fine beads of sweat broke out on Wanda's forehead, the Crimson Energy between her fingers trembling with her rapid breaths. "I can't control it. Every time I try to restrain it, it resists even more fiercely."

"Because you are using 'restraint'." Angela sat down in front of her, their eyes level. "Chaos Magic is not a Beast; it doesn't need a cage. It is an extension of your own existence."

She reached out, a gentle stream of golden light appearing in her palm. The light flowed and shifted naturally, like living Water of Light. "Feel its flow. Do not 'control' it; instead, 'guide' it."

When Wanda withdrew her will to resist, a strange resonance occurred... the Crimson Energy around her began to pulse in sync with the golden sphere of light, like two hearts beating at the same tempo.

"Just like that," Angela's voice was as soft as a whisper. "Now, imagine a simple cube."

Wanda closed her eyes, and the energy converged toward the center.

This time, there was no struggle from forced compression. The Crimson Energy flowed and folded naturally, outlining a red cube in the air. Its edges were straight, and its surface was as smooth as a mirror.

"Maintain it. At the same time, do this with your left hand." Angela created three golden points of light out of thin air, arranged in a triangle.

Wanda bit her lower lip, her left hand moving slightly to split off a small stream of energy.

The cube wobbled slightly but did not collapse.

A few seconds later, three crimson points of light formed by her left hand, shakily lining up in a triangle.

"Very good." Angela gave a rare nod of approval. "Now, while maintaining these two structures, answer me. What did it feel like when you first realized you had this power?"

The question came suddenly.

Wanda's body jolted, the cube instantly distorting as the points of light dissipated.

"I... I don't know," she panted. "I just didn't want to die. I didn't want Pietro to die..."

"Fear," Angela nodded. "The most primal driver. But now you have a choice: continue to be driven by fear, or find a new fulcrum?"

...At the other end of the training ground, silver-white and golden afterimages were colliding.

Pietro's figure was so fast it was nearly invisible, with only a series of flickering trails weaving through the arena filled with energy obstacles.

He was completing a brutal exercise set by Angela: touch twelve floating points of light in order, and after each touch, he had to come to a complete stop for half a second.

This requirement was driving him nearly insane.

"Your problem is exactly the opposite," Angela's voice suddenly rang in his ear... she had appeared at his next intended position without him noticing. "You embrace speed, but you refuse its price."

Pietro came to a sudden halt, his feet leaving scorch marks on the specialized floor. "The price? What price?"

"The tearing of temporal perception." Angela waved her hand, and all the obstacles vanished. "When you move at super-speed, the World is nearly static to you. But your mind still functions normally..."

"Every run is a brief period of solitary confinement."

Pietro fell silent.

He indeed had that feeling: at extreme speeds, the Worldbecame a series of slowly switching frames, sounds stretched into eerie hums, and everyone froze like statues. Only he was fluid, and only he was alone.

"What you need to learn is not to be faster," Angelaunfurled her wings of light, the six wings emitting a soft glow, "but to maintain your connection with the Worldwhile at speed."

She set a new rule: "Chase me. You cannot leave the room, you cannot hit anything, and... every second, you must call out the color of an object in the room."

"That's impossible..."

Before he could finish, Angela had already moved.

It wasn't just speed; it was movement that bordered on art... one moment she was five meters away, the next she was at the opposite corner of the training ground, the trails of her wings of light leaving faint golden traces in the air.

Pietro's instincts kicked in.

The World slowed down.

He could clearly see the drifting path of every dust mote in the air and hear his own heart beating like a rapid drum. He lunged toward Angela's position... "Wall, gray!"

Angela was no longer there. She was upside down near the ceiling, stepping across a beam, her wings of light sweeping lightly to change her direction.

Pietro turned, forcing himself to divide his attention to observe: the blue paint of the training equipment, the dark red of the safety mats, the cold white of the lights... "Equipment, blue! Mats, red!"

He almost touched her wings of light.

But a moment before contact, she vanished into thin air—a literal Short-range Spatial Jump—reappearing behind him.

"Lights, white!"

Pietro screeched to a halt and spun around, the floor sounding as if it were being torn apart. He sprinted again, beginning to anticipate... observing Angela's movement patterns, the angle at which her wings tilted, and the subtle lean of her body before each jump.

"Your observation skills have improved." Angela's voice came from six locations simultaneously as she left multiple afterimages. "But it's not enough. Speed is not a straight line; it's a network."

She suddenly stopped, her true self appearing in the center of the arena.

The moment Pietro rushed toward her, she extended a finger, a tiny golden point of light condensing at the tip.

"Touch this, and you win."

Pietro pushed his speed to the limit. Time nearly stopped; he could see the slow flow of energy on the surface of the point of light and the fine texture of the skin on Angela's finger. He reached out... but the point of light suddenly split into twelve, arranging themselves into a complex three-dimensional array.

Pietro's brain instantly overloaded.

Calculating the trajectories of twelve moving targets simultaneously while in a state of super-speed, avoiding the energy lines between them, and maintaining observation of his surroundings... his movements suffered a millisecond of hesitation.

All the points of light vanished.

Angela's finger tapped lightly on his forehead.

"You lost," she said, withdrawing her hand. "Not because you weren't fast enough, but because you didn't think fast enough."

Pietro collapsed onto the floor, his training suit soaked in sweat. The physical toll of running at super-speed was staggering, and his chest heaved violently.

"Rest for five minutes." Angela walked over to Wanda, who had stabilized her energy cube again. "Control is not an unlimited resource; it requires rhythm."

The training ground grew quiet for a moment.

Wanda dispersed her energy, and the cube vanished into red points of light.

She walked over to her brother and handed him some water.

"She's right." Pietro took a large gulp. "I always thought that as long as I was fast enough, I could solve anything... but just now, I felt like my brain was going to explode."

"My magic is the same," Wanda sat down. "Every time I use it, I feel hollowed out... not physically, but something deeper."

Angela stood at the console, reviewing the surveillance data from the safe house's perimeter. A flicker of complexity crossed her pure white eyes... she was training these two children just as she had trained the young warriors of the Heven Legion long ago.

Back then, she believed in order, discipline, and absolute control. But now... now she saw two young people who had been hurt by the World, striving to master powers capable of destroying or saving it.

If Wanda's Chaos Magic fully awakened, it could make the Universe tremble.

If Pietro's speed reached its peak, he could even break time.

Dangerous, yet full of possibility.

"Next," she turned to look at the two resting siblings, "we will practice Synergy."

Wanda and Pietro looked up at the same time.

"Your potential is great, but your limitations when fighting alone are obvious." Angela pulled up a holographic projection showing combat data. "Wanda's magicrequires time to guide, and Pietro's speed lacks decisive lethality. But if combined..."

The projection shifted, simulating Combined Tactics: Pietro moving at high speed to create chaos while Wandaconstructed magic from a safe distance; or Wanda using an energy field to restrict enemies while Pietro delivered precision strikes.

"This requires an extremely high level of rapport and trust." Angela's gaze moved between the siblings. "Can you do it?"

No words were needed. From the ruins of Sokovia to the laboratories of HYDRA, and now to this unfamiliar safe house, they only had each other.

"Of course," Pietro said, his eyes shining beneath his silver hair.

"Let's begin." Wanda stood up, the crimson light reappearing in her hands, but this time it was more stable and profound.

Angela nodded and began preparing the training.

But a portion of her attention remained focused on the area outside the safe house...

Chapter 57: Treating Natasha

When they arrived at the safe house in Greenwich Village.

It was already 3 AM, and Angela was still guiding Wandaand Pietro on the training ground.

When she saw the two return, she immediately stopped, her gaze sweeping over the blood-soaked bandage on Natasha's shoulder.

"An ambush?" she asked.

"HYDRA," Lin Che answered briefly. "Six of them. All dealt with."

"Their infiltration runs deeper than we thought."

Angela nodded. "What's your plan?"

"The plan hasn't changed, but we need to be more cautious." Lin Che looked at Natasha. "Go deal with your wound first. This time, the toxins must be completely cleared. We can't be careless with the death spore virus."

Natasha did not object.

She certainly needed to clean the wound, and she also needed some time to collect her thoughts.

In the bathroom, hot water washed over her body, carrying away the blood and fatigue.

She stood in front of the mirror and unwrapped the makeshift bandage.

The wound was worse than she had imagined... The purplish-blue bruising around the edges had spread, creeping down below her collarbone like a spiderweb.

The death spore virus was active; she could feel that subtle, cold sense of erosion.

A knock sounded on the door.

"It's me." Lin Che's voice came through the door. "You don't need disinfectant; you need Purification."

Natasha hesitated for a second, then wrapped a towel around herself and opened the door.

Lin Che stood at the doorway. He didn't have a medical kit, only a faint golden glow faintly circulating in his palm.

His eyes lingered on the wound on her shoulder, and his brow furrowed slightly.

"The virus is spreading fast," he said, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door. "But it's fine, I can handle it."

Natasha sat on the edge of the bathtub, her back toward him.

The towel covered her body, but her shoulders and back were fully exposed to the humid air.

His fingers lightly touched the edge of the wound. It wasn't the coldness of disinfectant, but a warm, energetic touch.

"You might feel something intense," he murmured, his voice exceptionally clear in the small space. "Relax, trust me."

The next second, the faint golden light seeped from his fingertips into her skin.

It wasn't a sharp pain, but a warmth that went deep into her bones, spreading outward from the center of the wound as his fingertips moved slowly.

The purplish-blue spiderweb seemed to be penetrated and dispersed by the light, and the coldness beneath her skin was replaced by waves of warmth.

His fingers gently traced her collarbone and neck. Every touch was accompanied by the flow of light, like wiping clean a painting covered in stains.

Too close.

She could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck and see his focused profile reflected in the fogged mirror.

His movements were light, yet carried an undeniable control, as if he wasn't just purifying the virus, but also touching the scars she had never shown anyone.

"You're not afraid of HYDRA, are you?" Natasha suddenly spoke, her voice lower than she intended.

"Never." Lin Che's reply was almost whispered against her ear. "I'm helping you leave..."

"Leave S.H.I.E.L.D., leave the missions and lies that will always exploit you."

His fingers paused at the edge of the last patch of purplish-blue skin, and the light intensified slightly.

A tingling warm current suddenly surged toward her heart. Natasha gasped softly, her fingers instinctively gripping the edge of the bathtub.

"HYDRA is just an obstacle in the process," he continued, his palm slowly covering the entire wound. "And you deserve a truly free life, Natasha. Not just as a weapon, or an Agent."

Light spilled out from between his fingers, enveloping her entire shoulder.

The last trace of coldness completely vanished, replaced by a strange lightness, as if something heavy had been drawn out along with the virus.

But his hand didn't immediately leave; instead, it gently stroked the edge of the newly healed skin, like confirmation, or perhaps an unconscious lingering.

Natasha turned her head, meeting his eyes.

Under the dim yellow light of the bathroom, his gaze was deep and direct, without concealment or hesitation.

Steam misted between the two of them, and a palpable tension floated in the humid air.

"Why me?" she asked.

"Because you seem to have perfectly adapted to that World, but in reality, you never belonged to it." He withdrew his hand, the light gradually fading. "And I can offer you another choice."

He did not step back, remaining in the narrow space between her legs. The body beneath the towel tensed slightly, but not out of caution—rather, a long-lost thrill of being truly seen.

"A temporary alliance?" she countered softly, a slight curve appearing at the corner of her lips.

"No," Lin Che smiled too. That smile contained light, ambition, and a seriousness she understood. "It's a permanent escape route. If you're willing."

He reached out to her, this time not opening his palm, but letting his fingers lightly brush her damp hair, tucking a strand of red hair stuck to her neck behind her ear.

His fingertip grazed her earlobe, almost imperceptibly.

Natasha did not flinch.

She raised her hand and grasped his wrist, which was still suspended in the air.

His skin was warm, his pulse steady—a touch so real it was reassuring.

"Then," she whispered, "tell me what to do next, my... Mr. Escape Route."

Lin Che turned his hand over, enclosing her fingers in his palm, squeezing gently, then slowly releasing them.

His gaze fell upon her now-healed shoulder. "Next, we should discuss how to find other people we can still trust in a World infiltrated by HYDRA."

He turned and left the bathroom, the door closing softly.

Natasha stood alone before the mirror, looking at the skin on her shoulder, smooth as new, and at the unprecedented clarity reflected in her eyes... In the northwest of Washington D.C., Nick Fury's safe house was hidden three floors beneath an ordinary apartment building.

The walls were thick, the door was bank-vault grade, and the air system was poison-proof.

Theoretically, it was very safe here.

But theories are always broken.

Bucky Barnes—or rather, the man known as the Winter Soldier.

Was currently crouching in the ventilation shaft.

His metal left arm was magnetically gripping the duct wall, his body as silent as a stone.

Equipment scanned through the wall: there was only one person in the room, sitting and working on a computer.

Target confirmed.

Inside the Winter Soldier's brain, the program began to run.

Environment: Sealed room, one door, no windows.

Target: Former S.H.I.E.L.D. Director, capable fighter, possibly armed.

Plan: Enter, kill, within three seconds.

He didn't need three seconds at all.

His metal fingers gripped the vent grate and pulled lightly.

The grate was silently ripped open.

He slid down like a leaf, landing without a single sound.

Chapter 58: The Death of Nick Fury

The person in the room looked up.

It was Nick Fury.

Black leather coat, black eye patch, sharp gaze.

He was looking at a document called "Insight Project," with a gun lying by his hand.

"The legendary Winter Soldier." Fury's voice was steady, as if he had known he would come. "I didn't expect it to be you, Bucky Barnes."

The Winter Soldier didn't speak; he charged directly.

He was extremely fast, but Fury's reaction wasn't slow either.

He slammed the table over to block his front and rolled backward.

The Winter Soldier's metal fist smashed through the tabletop, wood chips flying.

Fury had already stood up, holding that Pulse Pistol in his hand.

He didn't fire... the distance was too close, so he used the gun as a short club instead, swinging it at the Winter Soldier's temple.

The Winter Soldier raised his arm to block; the metal arm collided with the gun body, making a muffled thud.

At the same time, his right foot swept at Fury's lower body.

Fury jumped to dodge, backing against the wall as he landed. His breathing was slightly ragged, but his gaze remained sharp.

"Your skills haven't regressed," Fury said, suddenly taking the initiative to attack. He ducked and charged, feinting a punch at the face, while the real attack was a low kick to the shin.

The Winter Soldier took the kick head-on, his metal left hand reaching for Fury's shoulder.

Fury shrugged his shoulder to dodge and countered with an elbow strike to the Winter Soldier's ribs.

The force was considerable, but for a Super Soldier's body, it was nothing.

The Winter Soldier seized the opportunity, his right hand gripping Fury's wrist and twisting hard... but Furyfollowed the force to turn, starting a shoulder throw!

The Winter Soldier's center of gravity was thrown off, but his metal arm slammed against the floor to steady himself, pulling Fury back instead.

The two wrestled at close range.

Fury's fighting techniques were extremely seasoned; every escape and counterattack was precise and ruthless.

The Winter Soldier's program constantly analyzed: target combat data higher than estimated, moves mixed from multiple international systems, but some ways of applying force... were slightly odd.

During the struggle, Fury suddenly delivered a headbutt.

The Winter Soldier tilted his head, but his temple was still grazed.

At that very moment, Fury's left hand darted out like a viper, a cold glint at his fingertips... a razor-thin blade was hidden there, slashing toward the Winter Soldier's carotid artery.

The Winter Soldier jerked backward; the blade grazed his skin, leaving a shallow bloody trail.

His gaze turned cold.

It should end.

In the next round of exchange, Fury closed in again, seemingly trying to use a grapple to lock the Winter Soldier's right arm.

But this time, the Winter Soldier didn't dodge.

He let Fury lock his joint, but at the moment the other applied force, his metal left arm bent back at an impossible angle.

Five fingers joined like a blade, bypassing all of Fury's defenses to strike precisely just below his heart.

It wasn't a piercing wound, but a highly concentrated vibrational shock.

That was the Shock Pulse Generator built into the metal arm, capable of releasing energy on a tiny contact surface to directly destroy internal organs.

Fury's movements froze.

He looked down at his chest, then up at the Winter Soldier, his single eye wide, seemingly wanting to say something, but blood was already seeping from the corner of his mouth.

He took two steps back, slowly sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, his head tilting to one side, motionless.

The Winter Soldier stood where he was, equipment scanning: vital signs rapidly decaying until gone. Target deceased.

Program judgment: Mission complete.

He stepped forward, preparing to confirm.

Just as his finger was about to touch the corpse's neck to check for a pulse, he stopped.

The corpse's skin was changing... starting from the neck, the black color quickly receded, revealing a dark green texture full of fine wrinkles underneath.

The change spread like a ripple across the entire face and body. Facial features shifted, and the body size shrunk slightly.

Within seconds, Nick Fury had disappeared.

Lying on the floor was the corpse of a green-skinned alien with huge eyes—a Skrull.

The Winter Soldier's program was silent for a moment.

Target deceased, morphology changed, biological traits do not match.

Database comparison: Skrull shapeshifting race.

He knelt down to examine it carefully.

There was no obvious external trauma to the corpse's chest, but the internal organs should have been shattered.

The cause of Death was internal bleeding; after Death, the shapeshifting ability failed, revealing its true form.

The Winter Soldier stood up, no longer looking at the green corpse.

He carefully gathered the documents scattered on the floor.

Before leaving, he took one last look back.

The Skrull lay stiffly on the cold floor, never to take anyone's form again.

The Winter Soldier slipped into the ventilation duct and disappeared into the darkness.

The Safehouse returned to silence, save for the pool of green blood beside the corpse, shimmering eerily under the cold light of the emergency lamp... At the same time, the World Security Council Headquarters.

Alexander Pierce sat in his spacious office, with only a glass of water and an encrypted communicator before him.

He looked like any other minister working late on paperwork, calm and even a bit tired.

A clear female voice came from the encrypted communicator, reporting the mission without emotion, "Target eliminated. Death confirmed on-site."

"Additional anomaly found: target's traits mutated after Death, bio-scan identifies as Skrull form. Data has been extracted; originals destroyed per protocol."

Pierce picked up the water glass and took a light sip.

His expression did not fluctuate, as if what he heard was just a routine briefing.

"Received. Execute according to the Phase Two contingency plan. Ensure the 'replacement' is ready; the process must be clean."

His voice was steady, issuing orders as if arranging an ordinary meeting.

"Understood."

The communication cut off.

Almost the second after the communication ended, there was a knock on his office door.

His executive assistant entered, a capable and steady-looking middle-aged woman.

"Minister, the Internal Security Force is in position. Regarding Deputy Director Hill's 'Emergency Investigation Order,' the final confirmation procedure from the Council has been completed and synchronized to the operational departments. They are asking if they should execute now?"

"Execute," Pierce put down the water glass, his gaze falling on an inconsequential infrastructure budget report on his desk. "Follow the law and regulations; do not make mistakes."

"Yes."

The order was passed down.

At The Triskelion, Maria Hill's office door was violently kicked open.

Six fully armed members of the "Internal Security Force" rushed in, their cold gun barrels aimed at her.

The woman in the lead showed her identification and an electronic arrest warrant. "Deputy Director Maria Hill, this is an arrest warrant urgently authorized by the World Security Council, approved by the S.H.I.E.L.D. Oversight Committee, and urgently electronically signed by Director Fury. You are suspected of serious crimes against security; please cooperate immediately."

Hill's gaze swept over the seals and that glaring signature, her heart sinking.

She tried to buy time, "I need to appeal directly to Director Fury."

"The Director is handling a related emergency and is temporarily unable to respond. Please cooperate," the woman's voice left no room for doubt.

Two team members stepped forward and efficiently placed specially-made Energy Suppression Handcuffs on her.

Chapter 59: Taking Over S.H.I.E.L.D.

Hill was escorted out of the office, as the Agents gathered in the corridor cast shocked and confused glances.

She saw an emergency news broadcast on the large screen in the distance reporting the official announcement of her arrest.

Lies.

All lies.

She was pushed into the elevator; it didn't go up toward the detention cells, but down. Deep underground.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Interrogation room," the woman replied, but her eyes flickered.

The elevator stopped on the seventh basement floor.

When the doors opened, what lay before her was not a standard interrogation room, but a laboratory filled with precision instruments and a cold glow. The surgical table in the center was chilling.

"This isn't standard procedure. What are you doing?" Hilltried to struggle, but the inhibitor made her body unable to mount any effective resistance.

"Standard procedure is adjusted according to the situation, Deputy Director," the woman said, a hint of genuine emotion finally appearing in her voice.

Not apology, but fanaticism. "You know too much. And Minister Pierce believes that instead of killing you, it would be better to... make you one of us."

She was pinned to the surgical table. A mechanical arm descended from the ceiling, ending in a slender injection needle filled with a clear blue liquid.

"What is this?" Hill's voice began to tremble.

"Memory Washing Agent," a familiar voice rang out.

Pierce walked into the lab holding a report, calmly looking at Hill, who was fixed to the surgical table.

"This is an improved Agent," his tone was as if he were introducing a common new piece of equipment. "It can help you get rid of those unnecessary doubts and burdens, Maria. It will reshape some neural connections, allowing you to see the true form of the World more clearly—our World."

Hill struggled to lift her head, the inhibitor making the movement exceptionally difficult. "Our... World? Alexander, what on earth are you talking about? What kind of illegal procedure is this?"

Pierce leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "I'm talking about a more orderly, more powerful future. And to achieve it, we need excellent people like you, with true... loyalty."

"Loyalty? To whom?" Hill's pupils constricted suddenly. A terrifying suspicion took shape in her mind, but she didn't dare believe it. "...What did you do to Fury? Whose order is this, anyway?"

Pierce did not answer her question directly.

He straightened up, nodded to the technician operating the mechanical arm, and then looked back at Hill with a smile that was almost pitying yet carried a sense of absolute control.

"Accept it with peace of mind, Maria. When you wake up, you will have a new life." His words were steady and clear, like a final sentence.

"You will serve our cause—serve HYDRA."

"HYDRA...?!"

Hill's breathing stopped instantly, her unbelievable shock even temporarily overwhelming her fear.

She had always suspected there were moles within S.H.I.E.L.D., but she never dared to imagine that the head of the moles would be this respected Minister.

Pierce said nothing more, just watched her quietly. The technician precisely controlled the mechanical arm.

The needle pierced her carotid artery.

Cold liquid surged into her blood vessels.

Hill's vision began to blur, and her consciousness rapidly faded. The last thing etched into her eyes was Pierce's calm, emotionless face, which seemed to contain all the answers.

Darkness descended completely.

Hill's vision began to blur, Pierce's face swayed before her eyes, and then she fell into darkness.

Buzz... A strange humming rang inside her cranial cavity.

She felt herself being "opened," her memories being retrieved and reviewed like files.

Those suspicions of Pierce and concerns about the Insight Project were precisely stripped and pulled away, leaving behind a hollow sense of void.

Immediately after, new "memories" were crudely poured in.

Clear images of Fury meeting with green-skinned aliens, the scene of him signing fund transfer documents, a feeling of betrayal mixed with disgust and helplessness... these implanted memory details were rich and logically sound, seamlessly stitching together with her real memories.

When she opened her eyes again, the light of doubt in her grayish-blue eyes had been replaced by a calm and hard "certainty."

"How do you feel, Maria?" Pierce's voice was gentle.

Hill sat up, her movements slightly stiff but efficient. "Never been clearer, sir."

Her voice was steady and emotionless. "I see the betrayal. We must correct it."

Pierce nodded with satisfaction. "Are you willing to expose the truth before the World?"

"It is my responsibility." Hill's answer was categorical, every word sounding like a cold bullet being chambered.

Similar scenes were playing out throughout S.H.I.E.L.D.headquarters.

Commander Victoria Hand was severely injured by an "accidental" electromagnetic pulse grenade in the tactical room and "died after failed resuscitation" on the way to the hospital.

More than a dozen Level 8 or higher Agents loyal to Furywere either arrested, "died in the line of duty," or "voluntarily resigned."

All key positions completed an overhaul within six hours.

Pierce's people took over everything... At 3:00 PM that day, an emergency meeting of the World Security Councilwas held in Geneva.

Video links connected representatives of the World's major powers, the atmosphere as somber as a funeral.

Alexander Pierce stood at the podium, an edited video playing on the large screen behind him.

A surveillance clip from a safe house showed "Nick Fury" being assassinated by the Winter Soldier.

Then came a close-up of the body—green skin, insect-like compound eyes, clearly non-human characteristics.

Then followed a laboratory analysis report: "DNA testing confirms the deceased is a Skrull, an alien race with shapeshifting abilities. The memory chip implanted in its body shows that the real Nick Fury was replaced as early as six months ago."

Finally, a long list: "Confirmed S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel infiltrated by Skrulls," with Natasha Romanoff's name at the top.

The venue erupted in an uproar.

"That's impossible!" the British representative stood up. "Nick Fury is the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. If even he could be replaced..."

"That is exactly the gravity of the problem." Pierce's voice spread through the venue via loudspeakers, heavy and sorrowful. "The enemy has already penetrated our most core defense system."

"Skrulls can not only mimic appearance but also extract and replicate memories. This means that anyone replaced is identical to the original in behavior, memory, and even personality."

He paused, letting the weight of these words sink into everyone's hearts.

"In the past six months, every order signed by Fury, every operation approved by Hill, every Agent promoted or heavily used by these 'doubles'... could be problematic."

"We are facing not just an alien infiltration, but a complete hostile network that has already taken root within us."

The Far East representative asked, "Is the evidence conclusive?"

Chapter 60 – Skrull Invasion

Pierce pulled up more data. "We have the full autopsy report on the Skrull corpse, the decoded memory chip extracted from its body, and a timeline analysis of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s anomalous movements over the past six months."

"All materials have been uploaded to the Council's secure server; you may verify them at your convenience."

He swept his gaze across the room, eyes hard and resolute.

"But we no longer have time for verification. According to the intelligence extracted from the Skrull chip, the enemy is planning a synchronized global strike—targeting heads of state, military Bases, critical infrastructure. Seventy-two hours from now."

Greater unrest rippled through the chamber.

"We must act immediately." Pierce raised his voice. "As acting Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., I request the Council's approval for Operation Purification…

…a thorough purge within S.H.I.E.L.D., isolating every suspect for review, while initiating the Insight Project's emergency protocol. We'll use the helicarrier's global surveillance to locate and eliminate every Skrull infiltrator."

"Eliminate?" the French delegate challenged. "You mean… kill on sight?"

"When shapeshifters walk among us, traditional arrest and interrogation are useless." Pierce's voice was cold as ice. "They can become anyone—your spouse, your colleague."

"The only identification methods are behavioral-pattern analysis and biometric scanning…"

"…which require Insight's worldwide monitoring network. Once identified, they must be neutralized instantly; in seconds they can shift again and vanish."

The hall fell deathly silent.

Pierce knew what they were thinking: this was an unprecedented transfer of power.

Allowing one organization—even S.H.I.E.L.D., protector of the World—to wield global surveillance and summary execution.

It was tantamount to opening Pandora's box.

Yet fear is a powerful catalyst.

"Imagine," Pierce said softly, his voice still audible through every microphone, "your security chief could be a Skrull. Your Minister of Defense could be a Skrull. Even the delegate seated beside you…"

He looked at the silent German representative next to the French delegate.

Every gaze followed his.

The German delegate paled. "Minister Pierce, such an accusation—"

"Merely an example." Pierce smiled. "But you see, once the seed of doubt is planted, trust withers."

"If we fail to act decisively, human society will tear itself apart in suspicion."

He called up a simulation: a World map dotted so densely with crimson markers of Skrull infiltration that every major city glowed red.

"According to the chip data, infiltration may reach three percent. In a city of one million, that's thirty thousand alien shapeshifters hiding in plain sight."

"They could poison the water supply, plant bombs in the power grid, assassinate key figures at any moment… and we wouldn't know who they are."

Fear spread through the chamber; delegates exchanged glances, each seeing their own anxiety mirrored.

The Council hall felt heavy as iron.

Just as the global red-dot map paralyzed the representatives, he played his trump card.

"We have a key witness." He stepped aside.

A side door opened and Maria Hill walked in.

Her uniform was crisp, her stride steady, eyes fixed ahead as she moved to the podium like a precision instrument executing its highest directive.

"Former Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Maria Hill."

Hill positioned herself, adjusted the microphone, and stared into empty space.

Her voice carried through the silent hall: "I testify that Nick Fury systematically betrayed S.H.I.E.L.D. and humanity."

She began listing charges in an icy, matter-of-fact tone devoid of emotion.

"First, he secretly sheltered the hostile alien race known as Skrulls, violating international accords and endangering global security."

"Second, he abused his authority, embezzling nearly eight hundred million dollars to fund illegal alien projects; the chain of evidence is complete."

"Third, he contacted dangerous super-powered individuals without authorization, attempting to build an unsanctioned private army and undermine the existing international framework."

"Fourth, he systematically deceived the Council, using Skrull shapeshifters to replace key personnel and conceal his crimes. Even I was misled."

She paused, sweeping her gaze across the stunned, angry faces.

"I once regarded him as my mentor. That makes his betrayal unforgivable. Exposing the truth, rooting out infiltration, and restoring S.H.I.E.L.D.'s integrity is the only way forward."

Her testimony ended.

She snapped to attention and delivered a rigid military salute toward Pierce.

Under the lights her face was as resolute as sculpted stone, yet a cold, inhuman glint flickered in her eyes.

The final fortress of trust had been demolished by the very person most trusted.

The last traces of hesitation in the chamber evaporated.

"Let us vote," the U.S. delegate finally said. "I support initiating Operation Purification and the Insight Projectemergency protocol."

"Seconded," said the British delegate.

"Seconded," said the Japanese delegate.

One after another, affirmative votes accumulated.

Pierce lowered his eyelids, hiding the flash of triumph.

When the final delegate—the representative from Russia—after a long silence… reluctantly nodded,

he knew the moment HYDRA had waited decades for had arrived.

"Resolution passed," the Council chair declared, bringing down the gavel. "Alexander Pierce, acting Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., you are authorized to execute Operation Purification. May God help us all."

"May God help us," Pierce echoed, though in his heart he whispered another phrase.

Hail HYDRA…New York, Greenwich Village Safehouse.

Inside, the holographic screen froze on Hill's hollow, resolute face. The air itself seemed solid.

"…they turned her into a weapon," Wanda said, hugging herself, voice trembling.

"The perfect mouthpiece for their 'truth'." Natashaslammed a fist on the console, knuckles white. "Pierce's move is vicious—now we're branded traitors to humanity as well."

Lin Che shut off the screen and turned to the group, expression grim. "The original plan has to change. Fighting alone, we lose."

"Find allies?" Pietro frowned, words rapid. "Who can we trust now?"

"Find people who aren't easily controlled." Lin Chebrought up an encrypted interface, eyes sharp. "Natasha, inside S.H.I.E.L.D., besides Fury and you, who might have evaded the purge? Who has independent resources?"

Natasha pondered for seconds, fingers flying over keys. "Coulson. Phil Coulson. Fury's protégé, relatively fringe access, but with his own small team and secret networks. If he smelled danger early…"

"Find him." Lin Che decided instantly.

"I know a couple of his Safehouses and the warehouse where he hides Captain America's goodies." Natasharattled off coordinates.

"Good." Lin Che nodded. "Natasha, Angela—your mission is to locate and contact Coulson. He's the critical node linking S.H.I.E.L.D.'s remaining resistance."

He turned to the twins. "You two hold the fort for now. We need tighter preparation; Coulson could be our fallback and support."

Pietro protested, "So we just wait?"

"No." Lin Che pulled up energy-readout screens. "Wanda, use your Chaos Magic to weave a stronger concealment field over the Safehouse. Pietro, test every escape route for instant response. And I…"

He gazed out at the gloomy sky, "…need to figure out how to convince a certain frozen fossil that his World has turned upside-down."

Chapter 61 – Meeting Coulson

Queens, New York. A retro record shop called Classic Melody; the safe-house is in its Underground Room.

Inside the shop, a vinyl record spins lazily as a jazz singer hums an old tune.

But the moment you step into the Underground Room the air changes—tense, stifling, reeking of rust and disinfectant.

Phil Coulson sits behind a peeling vintage desk, fingers drumming the wood without rhythm.

Files are spread across the desktop, their dog-eared corners lifted from constant handling.

His face is unnaturally pale; beneath the left trouser-leg the outline of bandages shows—freshly re-wrapped, yet seeping blood that stains the white fabric dark red.

Flanking the doorway, Maria and Jackson stand like temple guardians.

Maria's hand never leaves the holster at her hip, knuckles white.

Jackson keeps glancing toward the stairs, Adam's apple bobbing, clearly on edge.

Footsteps sound slowly on the staircase.

The door opens.

Natasha Romanoff steps inside, red hair like smouldering embers in the dim light.

Behind her, Angela slips into the room without a sound…pure-white eyes glimmering faintly in the shadows like two small lamps.

Coulson shoves to his feet; chair legs screech across the floor.

His hand is already on his gun grip, knuckles bulging.

"Natasha Romanoff." His voice is ice. "Do you know you're wanted worldwide?"

"By the book, I should draw right now and call Headquarters."

Natasha says nothing; she simply walks to the desk.

Her movements are steady, almost leisurely, as though she's coming home, not entering hostile ground.

She pulls out the old wooden chair; the leather cushion sighs when she sits.

Angela remains standing.

Half a pace behind Natasha's shoulder, her white eyes sweep the room—ceiling corners, air vents, the seam behind the faded oil painting.

Her gaze settles last on Coulson's gun hand and lingers.

"So why haven't you called them?" Natasha finally asks, voice calm.

Coulson stares as if trying to pin her to the wall and read her soul.

After several seconds he slowly eases his grip, though his hand stays close.

He sits again, sliding a file across the desk with a rasp of paper.

"Because I want to hear it from you." He flicks the file. "Look at this."

"In the past day, twenty-seven Level-Eight-plus S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents were reassigned…twelve KIA, six resigned, nine under review. Every replacement is one of Pierce's people."

He leans forward, elbows on the desk, eyes locked on her. "All after Director Fury was 'confirmed' to be an alien impostor. Convenient, don't you think?"

Natasha picks up the file, pages flicking past.

She reads fast.

By the third page her mouth tightens.

By the fifth her gaze turns arctic.

"This isn't a reshuffle," she closes the file. "It's a purge. Pierce is using it to erase everyone loyal to Fury—no survivors."

"That's what I thought." Coulson leans back; his fingers resume their uneven tattoo.

"But where's your proof? Pierce has a body—a real green alien corpse. Autopsy reports, video, Council authorisation in black and white. What have you got?"

He won't take empty words; he wants something solid.

Natasha wastes none. She pulls an old coin from inside her jacket and slaps it on the desk.

"Fury's recognition token." She meets his eyes. "One round—listen carefully."

Coulson frowns at the coin.

Natasha: "Ask."

Coulson hesitates. "When was the Howling Commandos' first successful op?"

"3 November 1943, Norway." Instant reply. "Next."

Coulson's eyes widen slightly. "What did the Captainwrite in his diary afterwards—something only Fury ever quoted?"

"'Saved seventeen today, lost one friend. That's war.'" Natasha recites it word-perfect. "Fury mentioned it when you two were drunk, right?"

Coulson's complexion changes.

"Last question." Natasha leans in. "What did I give Furyfor his birthday last year?"

Coulson opens his mouth; before he can speak she answers: "1945 Macallan, gold foil, red ribbon. Note said: 'Don't die too soon, tab's still open.' Paris op—I paid for the drinks he still owes me."

She slides the coin forward. "Only the real Fury knows those three things. Where would Pierce's alien double get them?"

Coulson lifts the coin, rolling it between his fingers, breathing harder, brow furrowed.

For a full half-minute he says nothing, simply staring.

At last he looks up; hostility has drained, though doubt remains. "But Pierce has a chain of evidence, complete—"

"Fabricated." Natasha cuts in, voice like a blade.

"Pierce killed the Skrull decoy Fury had prepared—it was his contingency, now turned against him."

"He's using it to gut S.H.I.E.L.D.; next comes the Insight Project to eliminate every global opponent."

Angela speaks.

She steps half a pace forward, white eyes chilling in the gloom.

"Coulson, we're out of time." Her tone is glacial. "The three Insight helicarriers are fully calibrated. Lin Che stole HYDRA data: once Zola's Algorithm runs, three minutes seventeen seconds—just three-seventeen—and over three million targets worldwide are dead."

She pauses, each word a hammer-blow. "Heads of state, journalists, ordinary people who spoke up—even netizens who vented online are on the kill list."

Coulson's head snaps up. "Wait… HYDRA? Which HYDRA?"

For the first time genuine shock crosses his face—stronger even than hearing three million were marked to die.

"The Red Skull's HYDRA?" His voice cracks. "The group Captain fought in World War II? They were wiped out seventy years ago!"

Natasha holds his gaze. "They weren't wiped out, Phil. They've been inside S.H.I.E.L.D.—inside our ranks, our systems, maybe the office next to yours."

"Proof?" Coulson's hands press the desk, knuckles white. "You're saying Pierce is HYDRA, that S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised for seven decades… that's insane! It means I've spent twenty-three years working for the enemy!"

Angela answers levelly. "Zola's Algorithm is named for Arnim Zola—the mad HYDRA scientist recruited after the war under Operation Paperclip."

"Before he died he uploaded his consciousness into a computer; the algorithm is an extension of his mind."

Her pale eyes glint. "Its core logic mirrors HYDRA's old purge lists: erase 'impure' thought, eliminate dissent, impose 'perfect order'. Agent Coulson—coincidence?"

The room falls dead silent.