Alan moved through the shadows, reappearing in a bustling New York mall. He blended into the crowd, heading toward a technology kiosk.
There they were. Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff.
They were hunched over a computer, fingers flying across keyboards. Steve looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes. Natasha's expression was grim.
"The algorithm is still running,"
"need some help."
Steve and Natasha both tensed. Steve's hand instinctively moved to where his shield would be.
Natasha's eyes flicked up, cold and calculating. "You're the last person we expected to find us."
"Expected you to turn us in?" Steve added, his voice guarded but not hostile.
Alan stepped closer, keeping his hands visible.
"no, actually I'm here to help you because I don't believe for a second that you had anything to do with Nick fury killing."
Steve's expression softened marginally. Natasha's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Alan carefully. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into," Steve warned, his voice low. "That algorithm is designed to predict threats—to identify potential terrorists." He paused, looking haunted.
"but you're also wondering why someone would kill Nick fury if this was a good thing and besides whether you like it or not, you're kind of out of luck, out man, and out guned plus we have about five minutes before Shield agents pour into this place because as you already know The moment, you plugged that in, Shield was notified."
Natasha's eyes sharpened, her posture shifting instantly. The professionalism was gone.
"You're a risk," she stated flatly, fingers still flying across the keyboard. "But you're right about one thing—the clock's already running."
Steve glanced toward the mall entrance, his jaw tightening. "We've got nowhere to go."
"and right now that's good enough."
Natasha smirked slightly. "He's got a point, Rogers."
Steve hesitated. Then nodded once. "What's the plan?"
The first SHIELD agent appeared at the end of the mall corridor. Then another. Their eyes scanned the crowd, zeroing in on the two fugitives at the kiosk.
"Five minutes?" Natasha glanced at Alan. "You said five."
"Four now,"
The shadows pooled at their feet, thick and liquid. Within seconds, they'd been transported to the back of the mall.
The transition was seamless—silent, fast.
Steve and Natasha stumbled, momentarily disorienting. Their eyes scanned the dark corridor ahead.
"How?" Steve muttered, his guard already dropping slightly. "That's not technology."
"so where do you need to go?" He asked.
Natasha exchanged a glance with Steve. The weight of the mission pressed down on both of them.
"Camp Lehigh, New Jersey," Steve said curtly. "There's a hidden data file on this drive—" he tapped his pocket where the thumb drive sat "—that could trace everything back to the source."
Natasha eyed the SHIELD agents flooding the mall entrance.
"OK, then let's get away from the mall." He said, as The shadows swallowed them again—seamless, silent.
When they emerged, they were blocks away. The mall was crawling with SHIELD agents now, but they'd been completely bypassed.
Steve loosened his tie slightly, exhaling. "How did you—?"
"Not the time, Rogers," Natasha cut him off, staring at the thumb drive. Her jaw tightened.
Alan walked beside them, hands in his pockets. He could feel the weight of their scrutiny. They had questions he wasn't answering yet.
"New Jersey isn't far," Steve said, glancing at Alan. "But how do you plan to get us there without drawing attention?"
Natasha was already studying the drive, plugging it into a portable device she'd concealed.
"And more importantly,"
"...why are you helping us?" Natasha finished, her gaze piercing. "You could have stayed out of this. Walked away. Kept your hands clean."
Steve nodded in agreement. "You're not SHIELD. You're not Avengers. What's your angle?"
Alan kept walking, his expression neutral.
"I want to help you because this is my world too, and if something happens to this world, I won't have a place to live."
Steve paused mid-step, turning to face Alan. There was something in his eyes—a flicker of recognition. Of understanding.
"That's why I do it too," Steve said quietly.
Natasha's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Well, that's good enough for me."
She pocketed the device containing the thumb drive and looked around the quiet street.
"Camp Lehigh is a two-hour drive from here."
"why don't we fly there?" He said, pulling a massive amount of his cursed energy into Summoning A large Version of Nue.
A massive shadow erupted from beneath Alan, casting dark shapes across the quiet street.
The creature materialized slowly—and enormous. A colossal Nue. Its body was sleek and lithe. Its feathers shimmered with electrical energy. Its head was sharp, eyes glowing with avian intelligence.
Its wingspan was immense— easily covering several blocks.
Steve and Natasha stared. *A flying beast.*
Alan hopped on his head. and reached a hand down to pull them up.Steve stared at the creature—the sheer scale of it was staggering. Electrical currents pulsed through its feathers, crackling with power.
"You tame *these*?" Natasha asked, her voice tight. She eyed the massive avian with clear wariness.
Steve took Alan's hand, hauling himself up onto the creature's head. The Nue shifted slightly, adjusting to the weight.
"Yep nue fly us to New Jersey Camp Lehigh."
The massive Nue took flight, its wings beating strongly. The power generated lifted Steve and Natasha into the air effortlessly. As they climbed higher, the cityscape of New York shrank beneath them.
"This is... unusual," Steve commented, gripping the creature's head. "How do you control it?"
"Don't overthink," Natasha muttered, already analyzing the flight path.
The Nue landed with a heavy thud, its massive talons gripping the cracked concrete of Camp Lehigh. The abandoned military base stretched out before them—derelict buildings, rusted equipment, overgrown weeds.
"This place was supposed to be decommissioned decades ago," Steve said, dismounting.
Natasha was already heading toward the communications building, thumb drive in hand.
"Alan," she called back.
The Nue dissolved into shadows, its form dispersing into the air like smoke. Within seconds, the creature was gone, leaving only the faint crackle of residual electricity in the air.
Steve stared at the spot where the massive avian had been. His expression was unreadable.
"Convenient trick," he said quietly.
Natasha was already pushing open the rusted door to the communications building.
The communications building was a decaying relic—metal cabinets, tangled wires, and antiquated tech that belonged in a museum. Natasha plugged the thumb drive into a terminal, her brow furrowing.
"The signal... it's coming from here," she whispered.
Steve scanned the room. "Camp Lehigh. my old training ground." He paused, recognition flickering. "I remember this place."
Steve's eyes fell on a hatch beneath an old desk. "Down there. Bunker." He pushed it open.
They descended. The air grew stale, smelling of old paper and electronics. A massive computer system dominated the bunker—archaic reel-to-reel tape drives whirring and clicking.
Natasha plugged in the drive.
The terminal blinked to life, displaying a primitive interface. Natasha's fingers tapped the keyboard. "There's something running on these tape drives," she muttered.
Steve leaned forward, watching as the computer processed data. A sudden burst of static echoed through the bunker—then a voice crackled out of the speakers.
"Welcome back, Captain Rogers." The voice was German, distorted.
Steve went rigid. The voice—he knew it.
"Zola," he breathed.
The grainy image of Arnim Zola's face appeared on the screen, projected through a primitive interface. His face was pixelated, his expression unsettlingly neutral.
"Ah, you remember me. How flattering."
Natasha's hand moved instinctively toward her sidearm. "He's supposed to be dead."
"he is dead. This is simply recording of his mind that we're seeing."
"Correct," Zola's voice crackled. "I am merely an echo. A consciousness preserved in tape and code."
Steve stared at the screen. "You're the source of the algorithm."
"Indeed. S.H.I.E.L.D. preserved my intellect after my... unfortunate demise. And through them, HYDRA has grown." The screen flickered.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. was a breeding ground for HYDRA," Zola continued, his pixelated face grinning. "Decades of infiltration. Decades of patience."
Steve's jaw tightened. "And Project Insight?"
"The culmination of my life's work," Zola replied. "A lethal targeting algorithm. Three helicarriers."
"Designed to identify and eliminate threats before they even arise," Zola explained proudly. "Three helicarriers circling the globe. Millions of lives... gone in an instant."
Natasha's face was pale. "You've been planning this for decades."
"Since the beginning," Zola agreed. "And now, the algorithm is complete. All that remains is activation. but it's such a shame you won't be able to do anything about it since you are about to die."he said as the doors behind them shut. "Before you see there's an incoming missile and I am merely the distraction."
The bunker exploded into fire and twisted metal as the missile struck. Debris rained down, the ceiling cracking open—
But within the red glow of Alan's blood barrier, they remained untouched. The fireball pressed against the translucent crimson wall, the shockwave dissipating harmlessly around them.
Steve stared at the destruction outside their bubble—concrete, steel, and equipment incinerated in seconds.