After dinner, sea breeze swept the villa's terrace. Tony stood by the window, tapping his champagne glass. "Jarvis, prep S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top-level access."
"Done, sir," Jarvis replied. "Miss Potts reports Stark Industries is pressuring senators."
Natasha and Clint headed to the helipad, S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms rustling. "Bet a hundred Pierce doesn't see tonight," Clint said, adjusting his bow.
Natasha smirked. "Two hundred says it's a 'heart attack.'"
A Quinjet roared off, vanishing into the night.
Midnight
Alexander Pierce's mansion glowed, the former Security Council head pacing his study, encrypted comms blaring with reports of attacked Hydra bases. His third call failed as the clock struck twelve.
"Looking for this?" Adam emerged from shadows, blue antimatter energy forming a crushed communicator.
"You don't know what you're fighting," Pierce sneered, hitting an alarm. Nothing. The mansion's power was dead. "Hydra isn't—"
"Cut one head, two grow back?" Adam crushed the device, blue light cold. "Try it."
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
A data storm raged in the main control room, Tony's hologram directing golden code cascades. "Found you, snakes." Hundreds of red dots blinked across floors. "Jarvis, send Natasha the coordinates."
At dawn, Pierce's body lay under a sheet in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medbay, news reporting a "heart attack." The Security Council unanimously named Tony director.
"Sir, Europe update," Agent Hill said, showing Adam razing a ninth Hydra base. "Coulson requests more Quinjets."
Tony spun in Fury's chair. "Give him five. And swap this chair for ergonomic. My ass is priceless."
Natasha's voice crackled. "Seventeenth floor, Skrull nest. Need bio-cleanup."
"Approved," Tony snapped, switching holograms. "Hill, check the 084 inventory. Bet we'll find alien pickles."
Culver University
Banner placed white roses on Betty Ross's desk. She dropped a test tube, staring at the man who'd vanished years ago. "I'm not running anymore," Banner said, gamma detectors beeping steadily.
At night, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s lights burned. Tony overlooked New York, new director badge gleaming. Holograms showed 2,174 Hydra agents, 586 Skrulls, and 43 alien tech items seized.
"Sir, message from James," Jarvis said. "Good work, but watch for Hydra's counter."
Tony saluted with coffee. "Tell the sunbathing CEO I'm not scared unless Hydra builds a limited-edition espresso machine."
A Stark Industries jet passed the moon, carrying recovered 084s.
Europe, Hydra Base
In a dim meeting room, Hydra's core leaders watched holograms of razed bases, red "cleared" markers stark. Daniel Whitehall adjusted his glasses. "Alexander's death was no accident—an execution."
A leader scoffed. "Stark's bold, moving this fast."
Madame Hydra, Vivian de Frost, tapped scarlet nails. "Because he's not just Stark. Superman backs him."
Silence fell. "Superman…" The name stirred unease.
Gideon Malick spoke. "We underestimated him. He saw through the Skrulls, hit S.H.I.E.L.D., and maybe knows us."
"Impossible!" a leader slammed the table. "Our secrecy outstrips S.H.I.E.L.D.!"
"He killed Pierce," Whitehall said. "He knows that much."
Madame Hydra squinted. "What now?"
"Go dark," Malick said. "Pause all operations."
"Wait for him to hunt us?" another snapped.
"Fight then?" Malick countered. "What's your card?"
"Winter Soldier," Madame Hydra said.
The room froze. The Winter Soldier—Hydra's ultimate weapon, a brainwashed super-soldier, unstoppable for decades.
"Assassinate Stark?" Malick frowned. "Too risky. His death would shake the world, enrage Superman."
"It's direct," Madame Hydra purred. "Stark's death throws S.H.I.E.L.D. into chaos, cuts Superman's human proxy."
"And if it fails?" Malick asked.
"Then Superman learns Hydra isn't Skrull chaff," she said.
Whitehall nodded. "I'm in."
Malick hesitated. "It could spark war."
"War's already here," Madame Hydra stood, voice icy. "Our turn to strike." She scanned the room. "Winter Soldier, target: Tony Stark."
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