New Jersey.
Once a U.S. Army training base during World War II.
Now abandoned and buried in dust.
"This place…" Steve murmured, eyes distant. Memories of decades past came flooding back.
"Follow me!"
Before Saitama could speak, Steve took the lead. He knew this place well.
They walked through desolate halls until they found the emblem of S.H.I.E.L.D.
"This is where S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded," Steve said, pushing open a hidden door behind a steel bookshelf.
Inside stretched a massive underground chamber.
Dust-covered machines hummed faintly as old lights flickered on.
Cameras whirred to life, and soon a holographic figure appeared on a cracked screen.
"Steve Rogers, born 1918…"
Then the camera adjusted—fixing on Saitama.
"No records found… initiating Zola Algorithm… calculation error… unknown anomaly… why?"
The digital voice quivered with something like fear.
Saitama scratched his cheek. "And you are?"
The figure hesitated.
"…Dr. Arnim Zola. Hydra scientist. After the war, Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. were born together. We shaped the world's path, correcting deviations as needed."
Images of world events flashed on the screen, from wars to assassinations, all tied to Hydra's hidden hand.
Steve's face darkened. Hydra had infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. from the very beginning.
"Our Insight Project…" Zola began.
Weekend Special's voice cut in smoothly: "Zola Algorithm. Predictive targeting using big data. Identifies threats to Hydra before they arise, eliminates them in advance."
"Who—who are you?!" Zola snapped, panicked. His old code had been breached.
Weekend Special chuckled. "Trying to stall us with outdated missiles? How quaint. They're thirty years obsolete."
On Steve's visor, holographic projections showed ancient warheads arcing through the air.
Zola's voice grew frantic. "Hydra will rule the world! Even if technology surpassed my predictions—Hydra will prevail!"
But Weekend Special's dark-blue grid of lightning spread across the chamber. "Zero-Type Defense active. Initiating forced data extraction."
Zola's ancient servers crumbled under the intrusion.
Warning klaxons wailed.
From above, real missiles streaked down toward the base.
Steve's eyes widened. "ICBMs…!"
Boom!
The base erupted in fire and concrete crumbled like sand. But inside the glowing sphere of Zero-Type Defense, Steve and Saitama stood untouched.
Steve staggered as the barrier dissolved. Around them lay nothing but ruins.
Once, seventy years ago, Steve had been the spearhead of America's might. Now, even ordinary advanced weapons could kill him.
Only Saitama's presence kept him alive.
"Master," Weekend Special reported, "Insight Project plans to launch helicarriers. Coupled with orbital satellites, the purge will eliminate approximately four million people."
Her analysis even broke down Zola's algorithm, though fully decrypting it would take time.
But one thing was clear: if the helicarriers launched, humanity would face disaster.
"Saitama, we must stop this!" Steve said, face ashen.
"Yeah, sure. Since we're here, might as well," Saitama replied. His eyes flicked to the shadows. "Oh, someone's coming. Friend of yours?"
From the darkness, lights flared. The ground trembled under heavy steps.
Two figures approached.
The first was a man with long hair, a mask covering his face, and a gleaming metal arm.
Steve's eyes widened. Memories pierced him like a knife.
"…Bucky? Winter Soldier?!"
His lost comrade stood before him, a pawn of Hydra.
But the second figure dwarfed even him—
A hulking war machine nearly five meters tall, forged of black steel, bristling with weapons across its arms and back.
On its chest, the Hydra emblem gleamed.
(End of Chapter)
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