The S.H.I.E.L.D. escort aircraft gradually closed in on the Hulk's position. From the cockpit, the pilot could already see the green giant rampaging below, tearing through wreckage and flame like a force of nature.
He knew his chances of returning alive were almost nonexistent.
Removing his oxygen mask, he glanced at the small pendant hanging from the top of the cockpit — a photo of his wife and daughter smiling in the sunlight. He exhaled slowly, steadying his shaking hands.
"Visual contact confirmed," he reported calmly. "Target acquired. Preparing to engage."
Down below, Hulk sensed the approaching aircraft. His blazing eyes lifted skyward, locking onto the oncoming machine. The raw malice and fury in that gaze were enough to make even the most battle-hardened soldier's blood run cold.
"Fire!"
The pilot pressed the trigger without hesitation. A volley of missiles roared from the aircraft's wings, streaking toward the green titan and exploding across his body.
Flames and smoke engulfed the battlefield.
But when the smoke cleared, the Hulk stood unharmed — his massive frame wreathed in fire, his expression more terrifying than ever.
"RAAAARGHHH!"
The pilot's pulse spiked. He yanked the control stick, trying to pull the plane into a steep climb — but it was already too late.
Hulk lunged forward, his legs pounding the earth like thunder, and leapt into the air. In a single bound, he landed on the aircraft's fuselage, his fingers tearing through reinforced steel as if it were paper. The cockpit shook violently. Warning lights flashed red across the control panel.
"Target engaged… attempting to divert—"
Even in the face of certain death, the pilot's voice remained steady. He gritted his teeth and pulled the throttle forward, pushing the aircraft to its limits.
"Successful contact. Beginning diversion."
With grim determination, he steered the damaged craft toward the ocean, the engines screaming as they tore through the sky. He didn't eject — he couldn't. Instead, he fought to keep the aircraft stable, dragging the enraged Hulk away from Sokovia at full speed.
The engines finally gave out with a deafening roar.
A massive explosion lit up the horizon, scattering flaming debris across the sea. The blast threw Hulk deep beneath the waves, vanishing him into the depths.
"Deploy the second escort jet," Nick Fury ordered coldly from the helicarrier, his face expressionless.
The room fell silent for a moment. Everyone knew what that meant — another pilot would not be coming back.
Maria Hill hesitated, her eyes flickering with sorrow, but she quickly relayed the command. "Confirming orders. Second pilot, proceed with the same mission profile — lure the Hulk farther out to sea. Maintain maximum distance. Do not return."
The pilot on the other end took a deep breath. "Understood."
Moments later, another jet roared into the skies.
When the Hulk resurfaced, bellowing in rage, the second aircraft appeared above him — and once again, he gave chase. The jet carried him even farther from Sokovia before meeting the same fiery end as its predecessor.
The mission was a success.
Hulk would continue his path of destruction, yes, but at least Sokovia — and the S.H.I.E.L.D. operation — had been spared from his rampage. For now, the immediate disaster had been averted.
In the days that followed, however, reports flooded in from across Eastern Europe — of cities reduced to rubble, of a green giant sighted leveling entire districts. Within a week, over a million civilians had been displaced.
The United States government called it a "containment failure." Fury called it what it was — collateral damage.
But for now, the helicarrier's crew could finally breathe again.
Back in Sokovia, the countdown sequence on Hydra's automated defense cannons finally ended. With the systems shut down, the exhausted S.H.I.E.L.D. technicians slumped against the walls, gasping for air.
They knew just how close they'd come to dying.
The same couldn't be said for Sokovia City. When the bombardment stopped, all that remained was an ocean of fire and crumbling stone. The C-Team — last seen evacuating civilians — had gone silent. Whether they escaped or perished beneath the flames, no one knew.
Captain America stood amid the ruins, his face pale, his blue eyes reflecting the burning horizon. Around him, soldiers scavenged for Hydra's remaining research files, but even in victory, the silence of the comms weighed heavy.
Neither side had truly won.
Hydra was annihilated. Sokovia lay in ruins. And S.H.I.E.L.D. had lost far too many.
When the recovery teams finished cataloguing Hydra's archives, one of the tech officers approached the Captain.
"Sir," he said, "we've secured everything related to the zombie virus research. But… there's a problem. Some of the data's missing. A large portion of their records were wiped — completely erased before we got here."
Captain America frowned. "What kind of data?"
"Unclear. But from what's left, it looks like it was tied to… Chitauri technology."
Nick Fury's voice came through the comms, sharp and low. "If Hydra was studying alien weapons, I want to know what they found. Keep digging."
The tech officer hesitated. "Sir, our priority was the zombie virus data. We found full documentation on its biological structure, transmission method, and — this might interest you — schematics for a device they called the 'Zombie Control Helmet.' But there's no mention of any vaccine or antidote. Nothing about a cure."
Fury stroked his chin, eyes narrowing. "So they started working on controlling the infected before developing a cure? That's not just reckless — that's insane. Even Hydra isn't usually that stupid."
He fell silent for a moment. Then, as if struck by a thought, he muttered, "Wait… According to those files, the virus originated from a mutation of the Extremis formula developed by AIM."
Maria Hill looked up. "You think AIM's involved in this too?"
Fury's gaze hardened. "The AIM facility in New Jersey destroyed itself last night — wiped clean. You telling me that's a coincidence?"
The room fell silent.
The AIM base was gone. The records were gone. And now Hydra's files conveniently filled in just enough blanks to suggest a story that might not even be true.
Fury didn't like it. Not one bit.
Someone — or something — was manipulating the board.
Hydra, AIM, even S.H.I.E.L.D. — all moving according to a plan that none of them could see.
He didn't know who was behind it.
But Marcus — somewhere out there, watching the chaos unfold — did.
___
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