France.
Several military jeeps bumped forward on the muddy, frozen ground, their tracks deeply imprinted into the cold, wet earth.
Captain America, Steve Rogers, sat upright and composed.
From a mascot on a stage to a true soldier, he had proven himself with just one operation.
He was no longer alone.
Beside him was an elite squad known as the "Howling Commandos."
Every member was an elite soldier he had personally selected from the survivors of the 107th Infantry Regiment.
They had witnessed the Captain's prowess and were even more grateful for the Captain's kindness.
This emotion, mixed with admiration and trust, made them willing to follow Steve anywhere.
Even into the most heavily guarded heart of HYDRA.
Steve sat in the bumping jeep; the cold wind poured into his collar, but it could not cool his overheated brain in the slightest.
He scanned the determined faces beside him; there was no fear in their eyes, only a yearning for victory.
"Captain, are we really going to charge straight in?"
The jeep was driven by Dum Dum Dugan; beneath his signature bowler hat was a mouth that was always clenching a cigar and a thick mustache.
His mustache was already coated with a thin layer of frost.
"Intelligence indicates that there is at least a battalion of troops there, along with heavy armor."
Steve's gaze did not waver in the slightest, and he gripped the shield in his hand.
"We are not going to fight a siege battle."
"Our goal is decapitation."
"Destroy their command system, create chaos, and then retreat."
This was the tactic Lynn had devised for him over the phone.
Simple, brutal, yet aimed straight at the core.
In the distance, the outline of the HYDRABase was already looming in the dim sky.
It was a fortress converted from an old factory, with searchlight beams crisscrossing in the air like vigilant eyes.
"Move out!"
Steve gave the order.
All vehicles of the Howling Commandos extinguished their headlights, the roar of their engines reduced to a minimum, and the group quickly blended into the night.
Steve was the first to jump out of the car, his body kept extremely low. His super-soldier vision allowed him to clearly see the guard towers and patrols in the distance.
He was like a leopard ready to pounce; the feel of the Vibranium shield against his arm gave him immense peace of mind.
...
Belgium.
An ancient manor surrounded by a forest.
This was a supply transfer station for HYDRA in the Low Countries, and also a backyard for high-ranking officers to indulge in pleasure.
Soldier Boy kicked open the carved gate and swaggered in with an unlit cigar in his mouth.
Following behind him were twelve of the fiercest, most fearless soldiers selected from the Western Front.
They called themselves "Payback."
Because their families had all died under HYDRA's artillery fire.
Revenge was the only creed for these men.
In the manor hall, dozens of HYDRA officers were holding a banquet.
The melodious classical music and fragrant red wine formed an absurd contrast with the bloodshed on the front lines.
Soldier Boy's sudden appearance brought the music to an abrupt halt.
A bloated HYDRA Major recognized him, and his face, flushed from indulgence in wine and women, turned pale as paper.
The goblet in his hand fell onto the expensive carpet with a "clatter" and shattered.
"It... it is the God of War!"
Soldier Boy smiled contemptuously and rubbed his nose with his thumb.
"The party is over, scumbags."
He spat out the cigar in his mouth.
"Now it is time to settle the score."
As the words fell, the "Payback" squad behind Soldier Boy had already raised their submachine guns and pulled the triggers without hesitation!
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat—!"
Dense tongues of fire shredded the banquet hall.
The crystal chandelier was smashed to pieces, and glass shards and blood splattered together.
Terrified screams replaced the melodious music.
Soldier Boy did not take action; he walked to the door and leaned against the doorframe, enjoying this massacre he had directed.
He enjoyed this feeling, watching these "elites" who usually threw their weight around scurry like headless flies, only to be torn apart by bullets.
A HYDRA officer who had reacted pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Soldier Boy.
"Bang!"
The bullet struck Soldier Boy's head, but it could not even break his skin.
Soldier Boy's smile vanished, and he walked slowly toward the officer with an indifferent look in his eyes.
He raised his hand, grabbed the officer's head, and slammed it hard into the velvet-covered dining table.
"Next."
...
Czechoslovakia.
On the snow-covered border line.
Colonel Phillips looked at the impregnable HYDRA fortress in the distance, his brow furrowed into a knot.
This fortress, codenamed "Winter Wolf," guarded the key passage to the East European Plain.
The Allied Forces had launched several frontal assaults, only to be bloodied by the dense crossfire and sturdy fortifications, leaving behind piles of corpses and wreckage of armored vehicles.
"Colonel, are we really going to pin our hopes on that person?"
An adjutant asked with concern.
Colonel Phillips did not answer.
He simply picked up his binoculars again and looked toward the gray, misty sky.
He was waiting, waiting for a miracle.
Just then, a thick layer of clouds was dyed gold.
A figure made of light and heat slowly descended from the clouds.
It was the Human Torch, Jim Hammond.
He hovered in mid-air, curiously examining the "fortress" made of steel and concrete below.
Before coming here, Mr. Lynn told him that there were many "bad things" hidden inside.
What are bad things?
Mr. Lynn said, they are the things that hurt others and make the World less beautiful.
He did not understand.
But he remembered Mr. Lynn's other instruction—purify them.
The HYDRA soldiers in the fortress also discovered him, and the piercing sound of alarms echoed through the valley.
The barrels of the anti-aircraft guns began to turn, aiming at this humanoid Sun hovering in the sky.
"Fire! Shoot him down!"
A Commander roared hoarsely.
Countless shells trailing tracers fired at the Human Torch, but they were detonated by the invisible high heat several meters around his body, turning into clusters of brilliant fireworks.
The Human Torch tilted his head and extended a hand.
A basketball-sized fireball condensed in his palm and was then gently tossed out.
Following closely behind was the Human Torch's downward dive.
HYDRA Headquarters.
Johann Schmidt, the supreme Commander of HYDRA, was silently watching the real-time battle reports coming in on three screens.
France, Belgium, Czechoslovakia...
Three front lines, at the same time, had suffered a devastating blow!
On the screens, the red icons representing his elite troops were being extinguished one by one at an astonishing speed.
Three of the sharpest pieces had simultaneously pierced the defensive lines of his empire.
Extreme rage distorted Red Skull's crimson face.
"Bang!"
He threw another punch, smashing the last intact monitor in front of him to pieces.
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