Tony's voice was soft, yet it fell in the dead-silent hall like a cold hammer striking steel.
Baron Strucker's calm façade twitched for the first time.
The soldiers behind him instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons, cold sweat beading on their foreheads.
"Arrogant."
Strucker spat the word through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing with venom.
"The men of the Stark family are just like your father—arrogant beyond salvation. It seems that without resorting to... special methods, I can't make you recognize reality."
As he spoke, he took a step back and barked out a rapid string of orders in German.
"Activate the protocol! Kill them!"
At his command, a dozen soldiers who had been silent until now suddenly raised their heads.
Their eyes were void of emotion, gleaming with a chilling light.
The sound of bones cracking filled the air as their bodies mutated, muscles swelling at a visible rate, stretching their tactical uniforms to the point of tearing.
"Oh? Finally bringing out the main course?"
Henry, watching the transformation that looked like it came straight out of a B-movie, wasn't tense at all. In fact, he looked amused.
"Let me guess... what did you pump them with? Some knockoff Super Soldier Serum? Or maybe cheap stimulants bought from a circus act? Judging by the looks of it, the side effects are nasty. I bet their brains have already been squeezed out by their muscles."
"Be careful, Henry." Tony's voice cut in. Though his tone remained casual, the look behind the battle mask grew sharp. "Jarvis's scans are in. These guys' vitals are way off. Muscle density, bone reinforcement, metabolic rate... all far beyond human norms. In short, they're low-budget Captain Americas—and they don't fear death."
"Low-budget?" Henry sneered. "That just makes them counterfeits... and I hate counterfeits the most." (TN/ Pot calling kettle black lmao)
Before his words even fell, the transformed soldiers let out beastlike roars. Tossing aside their energy rifles, they surged forward with raw, explosive strength, turning into a blur of shadows as they lunged at the Stark brothers from all directions.
Their speed was frightening, their strength monstrous—every step left cracks in the reinforced flooring.
F**k, who said these were low-budget?
Even Captain America didn't hit this hard!
"Left side's mine!" Tony shouted. His thrusters flared, launching him straight at seven of the super-soldiers. "You take the right! And remember, don't wreck the walls! I still need to check out the interior design here later—might be something worth borrowing!"
"Worry about your scrambled-egg paint job not getting scratched first!" Henry shot back, then met the charge head-on. With a casual spin, his leg lashed out like a whip, smashing into the head of the first soldier to reach him.
Boom!
The sound was dull and wet—like a ripe watermelon getting pulped by a sledgehammer.
The Hydra super-soldier, their so-called trump card, didn't even have time to scream. His head exploded into a mist of blood under Henry's seemingly effortless kick.
The headless body staggered forward two steps before collapsing with a crash.
The battlefield froze.
Every soldier still standing—even Baron Strucker himself—stared in shock at the brutal spectacle.
"Fuck!"
It was Tony's curse that finally broke the silence.
"You bastard! We agreed, no unnecessary mess! You went and blew his head clean off! Great, now the carpet's ruined! Do you even know how much a handcrafted carpet like that costs?!"
"Sorry, slipped." Henry shook out his leg, putting on an innocent face.
"Besides, I just saved them ammo. One strike, problem solved. Very eco-friendly."
As he spoke, his figure vanished from sight.
What followed couldn't even be called a battle—it was a massacre.
Henry moved like a gardener pruning weeds, each strike clean and decisive.
He caught a soldier's punch, then with a single palm strike, blasted him into bloody fragments.
Another rushed him—Henry casually tripped him and stomped down. The soldier's chest armor caved in like paper, ribs collapsing into pulp.
Meanwhile, Tony's fight looked far more... civilized.
He used the suit's mobility to toy with the musclebound brutes.
He bound two together and spun them like a top.
He dodged gracefully while blasting another's kneecaps with pinpoint beams, leaving him crippled on the floor.
"See that, Mr. Breadstick?" Tony mocked as he sidestepped another swing, never missing a chance to taunt Strucker.
"This is real battle—the art of war! Strength and intelligence, perfectly combined! Your howling meatheads? At best, they're performance art... and the worst kind at that!"
Strucker's face had gone from blue, to white, to purple.
His proud elite troops were nothing more than kindergarteners before the Stark brothers, utterly helpless.
Fear spread in his chest, unstoppable.
"Retreat! Retreat!"
Snapping out of his shock, he shrieked hysterically.
"Activate the final defense protocol! Hold them here!"
Without a second's hesitation, he turned and fled into a hidden passage at the back of the hall.
"Running away?" Henry curled his lip at the sight of his cowardly back.
He crushed the last soldier underfoot and prepared to give chase.
"Wait!" Tony suddenly called out.
"What?" Henry frowned. "Don't tell me you want to leave him a whole corpse?"
"No, of course not." Tony shook his head. The mask retracted, revealing a grim face.
"Jarvis just intercepted their comms. That old man activated some kind of final defense protocol... he's heading for the underground lab. And..."
He hesitated, voice growing strange. "There's something else down there. Jarvis picked up an energy signature. It's not like anything we've ever seen. Extremely unstable."
"Oh, that." Henry's voice was calm. "I've already seen it."
As he spoke, his eyes narrowed.
Through his vision, the walls and alloy plating turned transparent. He looked straight into the base's deepest chamber.
Inside, two young figures—a man and a woman—were trapped in glass pods. Their eyes burned with the same searing hatred.