GreekGreenGlass
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🕑 Added 2025-01-14 15:41:48 +0000 UTCThere were people everywhere—agents swarming the area, helicopters circling overhead, and Quinjets trailing behind.
Alexander Pierce stood amidst the chaos, a deep despair settling in his heart. He glanced left and right, his face cold as gunfire echoed around him. He knew there was no way out.
The industry funds were frozen, and Nick Fury—his former protégé and now his fiercest adversary—would never allow Hydra to rise again.
Pierce knew there was only one outcome: death.
His death would be the price for peace. Too many powerful individuals, from high-ranking officials to corporate titans, would sleep uneasily as long as he was alive.
Taking a deep breath, Pierce adjusted his collar and approached the Winter Soldier. He extended his hand, pushing down the raised muzzle of the Soldier's gun, then turned toward the agents standing in formation before him, their bulletproof shields reflecting the fading sunlight.
"Fury!" Pierce shouted, his voice cutting through the noise. "I know you're here. Come out and face me!"
The intersection fell silent.
Moments later, an SUV pulled up, and from it stepped Nick Fury, flanked by Peter Parker and Maria Hill, both clad in Kevlar combat uniforms. The agents parted, creating a path as Fury led the way, stopping a few meters from Pierce.
For a moment, there was silence.
Fury was the first to speak. His expression wasn't the usual stoic mask but something more complicated.
"A few days ago, something made me very happy," Fury said, his voice calm but laced with emotion. "I thought today might bring more good news, but... it's a pity."
Pierce smirked faintly. "And what exactly is the problem?"
"You delayed my breakfast," Fury quipped dryly.
Pierce shook his head. "I know you don't eat breakfast often." He hesitated before continuing, his tone turning sharp. "Have you found the person who exposed me?"
"Sorry, no," Fury replied. "The data appeared suddenly, and the source is untraceable—even Tony Stark's AI couldn't locate it."
"Clearly," Pierce said with a bitter smile, "I've offended someone very powerful."
Fury didn't call him "sir" this time—a subtle but deliberate omission.
"Powerful indeed," Fury admitted. "But whoever they are, I'm grateful. Without them, I wouldn't have discovered that Hydra has been thriving within S.H.I.E.L.D., or that my own people included my mortal enemies."
Pierce's expression hardened. "Hydra's strength lies in its ideology. Cut off one head, and two more will take its place. Faith doesn't die."
"But today," Fury said grimly, "you all will."
A new voice rang out from behind Fury.
"Hydra is a cancer to the world."
Pierce's gaze shifted past Fury to the source of the voice. His eyes landed on a familiar figure—a man in a brown leather jacket with a white shirt underneath. Tall, broad-shouldered, and possessing a face known to countless Americans, his likeness had been immortalized in museums and history books.
"Steve Rogers," Pierce said, his voice heavy with mockery. "Captain America himself. Waking up in a world changing too fast for you, huh?"
The first Avenger stepped forward, his face stoic but his eyes blazing with determination.
"I thought the death of the Red Skull meant the end of Hydra," Steve said coldly. "I thought I'd woken up to a world without war. I was wrong."
Pierce chuckled, unfazed. "The Red Skull was never Hydra's end. He was merely a vessel. And war… war has always existed, Captain."
Steve's voice hardened. "Starting today, Hydra is finished. You'll be buried like the relic you are."
"Perhaps," Pierce replied, his calm demeanor betraying his defiance.
Before anyone could respond, a resounding boom echoed as a golden and red figure descended from the sky. Iron Man landed with a flourish, his armor gleaming.
Tony Stark stood tall, his shoulder plates retracting to reveal a dozen micro-missile launchers. The weapons locked onto Pierce and his associates. After a moment, the faceplate slid up, revealing Stark's confident smirk.
"Jarvis is on standby," Tony announced. "If anyone so much as twitches, they're toast."
Pierce's smirk widened. "Tony Stark. A genius, just like your father. Tell me, how does it feel to meet your dad's old friend from across the decades?"
Tony glanced briefly at Steve, then back at Pierce. "Captain," he murmured.
"Tony," Steve replied curtly.
The lack of spectacle in their exchange seemed to disappoint Pierce, but he quickly recovered, his tone turning ominous.
"Tony," Pierce began, "have you ever wondered how your father and mother really died?"
Tony's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say?"
"Their deaths," Pierce continued, a sinister smile playing on his lips, "might not have been as accidental as you've been led to believe."
