Suddenly, a row of exoskeleton battle suits emerged, their alloy surfaces glinting with cold metallic light.
"This is the exoskeleton armor HYDRA developed using recovered Chitauri technology," one technician muttered as the units powered up.
"We thought they'd be decommissioned… returned to HQ."
"But now," the supervisor smirked, "we might just get to prove our worth."
After the Battle of New York, when Chitauri warships and Leviathans rained from the sky, a fortune in alien tech had fallen into Earth's lap. The military, S.H.I.E.L.D., and even HYDRA had scrambled to seize the wreckage.
Thanks to HYDRA's deep infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D., they had stolen huge amounts of alien technology.
This exoskeleton armor was one of HYDRA's secret breakthroughs—a blend of alien engineering and Earth's ambition.
With a command, the lab's security team received new orders.
Four operatives stepped into the suits.
With a mechanical hiss, the armor locked into place. Power surged through their limbs. The leader snapped his visor down and barked:
"Find Nathan. Take him down—alive."
"Roger!"
The four armored soldiers burst out of the chamber, sprinting at inhuman speed down the hallways toward Nathan's last known location.
---
Elsewhere, in a large corridor near the main gate, Nathan was still fighting.
He moved between crates and cover, firing short bursts with a scavenged rifle. With each skirmish, his reflexes grew sharper, his aim tighter.
The ultimate scientific mind gifted him rapid learning capabilities, and even in the chaos of combat, his accuracy and reaction time improved constantly.
When the gun got too close, he switched to close quarters—his surgical knife flashing like a blade of vengeance.
But there was a cost.
Even with his enhanced body, bullets found their mark. A graze across the arm. A puncture near the ribs. A slash to the thigh.
Pain surged through him—but Nathan kept going.
These wounds were nothing compared to the agonizing transformation he'd endured when injecting the Super Soldier Serum.
Besides, adrenaline dulled most of it.
And Nathan… Nathan had already tasted hell.
A blade slashed clean through a soldier's throat.
Psst!
Blood sprayed, and another body dropped.
He saw daylight ahead—the final door to the outside.
"We're almost out," Nathan muttered.
Then—
Whoosh!
Four figures shot toward him like bullets.
Armored. Fast. Dangerous.
Nathan's instincts screamed.
He raised his gun and opened fire.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The bullets ricocheted off reinforced alloy plating. The enemies used their steel arms to block, charging straight through the hail of fire.
One lunged, smashing down with a thunderous strike.
Nathan barely brought up his rifle to block—
CRACK!
The weapon bent, then snapped in half.
Another kick launched him into a metal crate, wind exploding from his lungs.
He scrambled to his feet, surgical knife ready, blood on his lips.
The four armored operatives surrounded him in a semicircle.
Too fast. Too coordinated.
He was good.
But not good enough—not against all four of them.
---
"Give up," one of them said over the suit's external speaker.
"Surrender now, and we'll take it easy on you."
"You're valuable, Nathan. We don't want to kill you."
"Just your freedom. And your mind."
Nathan growled, backpedaling under pressure, blocking blows with improvised guards.
Each clash rang like a hammer against steel.
Inside the surveillance chamber, the person in charge clenched their fists in triumph.
"Yes! This is it!"
He laughed aloud, elated. "What a beautiful turn of events. Just before cleanup… we'll secure the crown jewel."
---
Nathan's mind spun.
He studied the armor.
It was mechanical—clearly powered. He could see visible servo pistons, unshielded wires, even cooling fans.
Suddenly, a realization hit him.
They were powerful.
But they were machines.
And machines had a weakness.
Electromagnetic pulses.
His eyes darted toward a side room—a mini-laboratory built for field research.
"If I can make a small EMP device… I can shut them down. Even if just for a few seconds, that's enough."
He didn't need a military-grade weapon.
Even crude devices—a converted taser, an overclocked capacitor, a modified mosquito swatter—could generate electromagnetic interference.
And these suits?
No shielding. No copper plating. No Faraday design.
They were completely vulnerable.
Nathan made his decision.
With a snarl, he flipped a heavy steel table and launched it like a battering ram.
BANG!
The four armored soldiers staggered backward, arms raised to shield their visors.
That was his chance.
Nathan darted toward the small lab, vanishing behind the reinforced glass.
---
"Where's he going?" one of the operatives asked, scanning for hostiles.
"He ran inside the lab. Doesn't look like an exit," another replied.
"Nowhere to go," the leader growled. "Let's finish this."
They pursued quickly, weapons primed.
---
Meanwhile, above the clouds, an invisible fighter jet screamed across the sky.
It shimmered against the sunlight, its engines leaving no trace on radar.
Inside sat four HYDRA super soldiers.
Their eyes were hollow. Their faces devoid of humanity.
They were HYDRA's "solutions"—genetic abominations barely kept under control.
In their ears, Baron Strucker's voice came through, sharp and cold.
"When you reach Research Group 71... kill everyone except the target. No survivors."
"Yes, sir," the super soldiers replied in unison, emotionless.
The storm was coming.
---
Inside the lab, Nathan was already assembling components at blinding speed.
He rewired a high-frequency oscillator, converted a heating core to a pulse discharge unit, and stacked capacitors in parallel.
He didn't have a lot of power to work with, but he didn't need long.
Even a three-second disruption would be enough.
The circuits sparked. A crude EMP disruptor took form.
Just as the armored enemies kicked open the lab door—
Nathan yanked the wire.
FLASH!
A wave of blue electromagnetic energy exploded outward.
Crackle!
The lights flickered.
The exoskeleton suits froze in place—completely locked.
Their limbs twitched, then stiffened. Internal servos stalled, and HUD displays died.
"System rebooting… power failure…" echoed from one helmet.
"EMP! It's an EMP!"
They had no countermeasures.
Nathan didn't waste time.
He launched himself forward.
SLASH!
His blade sliced under a helmet, cutting into exposed flesh.
THUD!
The body dropped.
SLASH!
Another throat opened. Another enemy down.
By the time the EMP faded and the systems rebooted—two were already dead.
The third raised a weakened arm, trying to counter—but Nathan tore off a power cable.
Electricity surged—and the suit died completely.
The last tried to backpedal, crawling.
Nathan was already on him.
Psst!
Silence returned to the lab.
---
Nathan stood amid the fallen, his chest heaving.
His wounds bled freely, but his eyes were fire.
"Still not enough," he whispered. "But I'm getting closer."
He grabbed another weapon, reloaded, and looked toward the corridor.
"They're coming. The real ones."
Baron Strucker's elites.
And he had to be ready.