The elevator doors slid open, and a bald man stepped inside. Daniel's expression fell ever so slightly, disappointment flashing in his eyes.
It wasn't Steve Rogers—Captain America—as he had hoped. Instead, it was Agent Sitwell, a senior S.H.I.E.L.D. operative.
"Agent Sitwell!" one of the commandos in the elevator let out a sigh of relief, clearly reassured by the familiar face.
Things had taken a sudden turn earlier. Just as Rumlow was preparing to leave with the scepter, Rogers had stepped in and ordered that the weapon be turned over to Daniel instead. Everything slowed down after that.
Everyone in the elevator—each one secretly loyal to Hydra—understood what was really happening. The scepter wasn't meant to be delivered to S.H.I.E.L.D. The plan had always been to quietly smuggle it into Hydra's hands.
After all, the scepter had the power to manipulate minds. Its influence could twist a person's will, amplify their darkness, and completely erase resistance. Hydra craved that power—needed it.
But Hydra, for all its bravado, had always been cautious within S.H.I.E.L.D. Despite years of infiltration, they never dared to expand too openly. The reason was simple: fear.
S.H.I.E.L.D., while presented as an international peacekeeping organization, was still heavily backed by the United States. Sure, the World Security Council had representatives from across the globe, but when it came to making decisions, America held the final word.
Even if Hydra had the means to take down S.H.I.E.L.D. from within, the moment they exposed themselves, they'd be crushed—by the Council, by the U.S., and probably by the entire free world.
That's the cost of being a ghost of the Axis powers in a world order built by the Allies' victory.
They could lurk in the shadows, manipulate and deceive. But the second they revealed their name, Hydra, the hammer would fall.
Even within Hydra, there was division. Some wanted to rise openly and restore the Third Reich. Others pushed for a new world, one where Hydra would become a governing power, not just a hidden one. But no one could agree on what that future looked like. Without a unifying vision—and without someone like the Red Skull to lead—it was chaos beneath the surface.
And that was why the scepter was so important.
Its mind-controlling power could bypass debate, unify vision through sheer force of will, and ensure obedience. That was why Hydra's highest-ranking insider, Secretary-General Alexander Pierce, was monitoring this operation personally. Every step was under his watch.
But now, Rumlow—the key operative—had been pushed aside. Daniel was in control of the scepter. And even though they were only traveling from the upper levels of Stark Tower to the lobby, that small window of time could ruin everything if Daniel made a move.
Enter Sitwell.
Whether he'd been stationed in the tower or rushed up from the lobby, no one knew. What mattered was that halfway down, the elevator had stopped, the doors had opened, and Sitwell stepped in.
Everyone in the elevator understood the message. Daniel understood it too. But no one said a word. They all wore professional expressions, smiled as if nothing was wrong, and pretended not to notice how many fingers were resting a little too close to triggers.
Sitwell said nothing at first. He stepped inside, the doors closed, and the elevator resumed its descent.
Then, as if making casual conversation, Sitwell spoke.
"Mr. van der Berg," he said evenly, "I was informed you've taken over Rumlow's role. The higher-ups asked me to check in. May I ask why the change?"
Daniel turned his head slightly, voice calm. "Loki," he said. "We suspect he may still be in the building. If he tries to intercept the scepter, we want to be ready. I'm a better choice for this leg of the transfer."
He gestured toward the exterior windows. "Thor and Stark are descending with me. If Loki appears, they'll strike immediately."
The explanation was airtight. Sitwell nodded slowly, visibly relieved. If that was the case, it meant Rumlow's identity hadn't been compromised. The operation might still be salvageable.
But then Sitwell frowned. "Still," he said, "if you were worried Loki might ambush the elevator… why didn't you question me when I entered? What if I had been him in disguise?"
Daniel glanced sideways at him. His voice was flat. "Loki's not that weak."
Sitwell blinked. Was that an insult?
He could only see the side of Daniel's face, but the disdain was crystal clear.
Still trying to press the issue, Sitwell said, "If that's your concern, wouldn't it be safer to let Rumlow handle the scepter? He's more familiar with the plan."
Daniel didn't even look at him. "Same answer—you're too weak. Loki has the Tesseract. He could teleport into this elevator at any moment, take the scepter, and vanish before you even blink. Rumlow wouldn't stop him. You wouldn't. And the guys outside need a second or two to react. That's why I'm here."
He turned his eyes upward, watching the floor numbers tick down.
But Daniel wasn't just focused on the elevator's descent. He was watching the Hydra agents around him.
Some were growing restless. A few had already slid their hands toward their weapons. They were close to snapping. But Sitwell, sensing it too, subtly raised a hand, warning them to hold.
Now wasn't the time.
Daniel wasn't alone. Outside the glass, Thor and Stark were flying in parallel, keeping pace. If even one person drew a weapon, the entire plan would collapse. Hydra would lose everything.
And Daniel had a point—if Loki did show up, there was no stopping him.
No, for now, they had to wait. The scepter's fate would be decided in the lobby, not here.
Alexander Pierce would be waiting. He would take control of the situation.
Still, Daniel couldn't help but imagine one of them shouting "Hail Hydra" behind him.
If that happened, he'd probably kill every single person in this elevator before they hit the ground floor.
This was the absurd balance they had struck—Hydra agents pretending to be loyal S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives, walking a razor-thin line. Everyone thinking the same thing: kill first, but no one daring to make the first move.
Daniel knew who they were. And if they did move? He wouldn't hesitate.
But they didn't. The elevator reached the ground floor. The doors opened.
Daniel sighed inwardly. A shame. He had almost hoped someone would be stupid enough to try.
Then his gaze shifted.
There, in the center of the lobby, stood a man with a stern face and gray, slightly disheveled hair—clearly rushed, but still commanding.
If he were cast in a movie, he'd look like the hero.
But this man was anything but a hero.
Alexander Pierce, Secretary-General of the World Security Council… and the highest-ranking Hydra leader in America.
He didn't come alone. Flanking him were more than a dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in dark suits, each one armed, their eyes scanning the room for any threat.
"May I ask," Pierce said coldly, "where are you going?"
His eyes locked onto Daniel who had just stepped out of the elevator.
Daniel didn't reply. Instead, with a small smirk, he stepped fully into the room… and changed.
Before their eyes, his body shifted back into his true form: U.S. military uniform, gray-green, every thread crisp. A White House special envoy, unmistakable.
He cocked his head and spoke casually, voice edged with mockery.
"I was going to hand this over to Nick Fury. But now… maybe I should take it to the White House. Or the Pentagon. Let our people deal with it. Sound good, sir?"
Sitwell jumped in immediately, eager to protect his superior.
"Mr. van der Berg, Secretary Pierce is authorized by the World Security Council to oversee all matters of global security."
Daniel turned his head slowly toward Sitwell. "So he's my boss now?"
A strange smile flickered across his face before vanishing.
Then he said coldy, "Let me remind you. This is Manhattan. This is New York City, U.S. territory. Every inch of this battlefield, every civilian loss, every scrap of wreckage, falls under U.S. jurisdiction. That includes this."
He held up the container holding the scepter.
"This isn't for the Council to decide. It's for the White House. My superiors."
Daniel's voice was calm, but the rage underneath it simmered hot.
Pierce's expression darkened. For the first time, something heavy settled over him. He could feel it—the threat in Daniel's words. This wasn't just a soldier speaking. It was a government envoy making it clear: overstep, and you'll find yourself on the wrong side of Washington.
And Daniel knew exactly what he was doing.