Inside an underground base that appeared abandoned.
In reality, it wasn't abandoned at all. That was just the surface impression. Deep underground, hydroelectric generators were still operating, supplying stable power to the facility.
The consciousness of Arnim Zola-one of Hydra's leaders-resided here, spread across thousands of square feet of computer banks. Some systems were currently offline. Not to conserve energy, but because several ports had been breached during the recent cyberwar. Trojan programs had been planted.
Fortunately, Zola had protected the most critical data. Nothing had been traced back to Hydra.
Still, until every vulnerability was sealed and every trojan removed, these systems could not reconnect to the network.
If someone discovered this place now...
The consequences would be catastrophic.
By definition, this was a defeat. A loss in war.
But to Zola, it was insignificant.
What he was about to obtain far outweighed the damage.
If he succeeded, the loss would be meaningless.
Before the cyberwar, Zola had known Tony Stark was kidnapped. He hadn't paid much attention. Tony was intelligent, yes, but his achievements didn't compare to Howard Stark's. Not yet.
After the cyberwar, that changed.
Tracing the origin of the conflict, Zola found its starting point: a video of Tony Stark's kidnapping.
That caught his interest.
Why would a simple location video trigger such a massive hunt? Was it really just about money?
Zola investigated.
As an old ghost that had haunted the internet since its birth, armed with S.H.I.E.L.D. clearance and unconstrained by morality, he quickly narrowed it down.
Obadiah Stane.
Zola reviewed the data.
Whoa.
Ruthless. Profit-driven. No bottom line.
A perfect Hydra candidate.
Stark Industries supplied weapons across the U.S. military and generated immense cash flow. If Hydra controlled it...
The implications were endless.
Most of the U.S. military's weapons would answer to Hydra.
Zola nearly overheated.
He waited patiently for the right moment, then reached out to Obadiah with a message:
[We are a powerful organization.
We know what you want.
If the opportunity arises, join us.
We can solve your problems.]
As a pseudo-AI, Zola wasn't particularly skilled at recruitment. But that didn't concern him.
He judged that Obadiah would eventually be exposed by Tony and forced into a corner. When that happened, joining Hydra would be his only option.
Then Tony would be killed.
Obadiah would become a puppet.
Stark Industries would belong to Hydra.
Hydra already controlled vast resources. Only one organization rivaled Stark Industries in scale.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Which, in Zola's opinion, was already a Hydra Shield anyway.
Then came the real surprise.
Tony Stark escaped.
Alone.
Tony wasn't special forces. Even if he were, he had no weapons or equipment. And even idiots knew how to aim a gun.
One man shouldn't have been able to wipe them out.
So there had to be help.
By monitoring Obadiah's communications and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal intel, Zola quickly identified the key.
An exoskeleton suit.
The armor itself wasn't the important part.
As a scientist, Zola immediately focused on what truly mattered.
The energy source.
What kind of power core could move armor like that?
The answer came instantly.
The Tesseract.
Zola had studied it years ago.
Was Tony working with S.H.I.E.L.D. on a secret project?
Or had he created a new energy source?
That was what Zola cared about.
He was certain the energy source was still in the armor's remains. Even if it was depleted, he was confident he could reverse-engineer it.
If it could be mass-produced...
Zola nearly crashed again. His outdated hardware struggled to process the excitement.
"I hope the energy source is still in the armor," Zola thought. "That would give us time. If not... we'll have to kill Tony soon."
He paused.
"...Brainwashing him would be better."
His promise to Obadiah meant nothing.
If Tony weren't Howard Stark's son-and a founding member of S.H.I.E.L.D., constantly monitored-Zola would have preferred to take his brain intact.
While working on this, Zola assigned other systems to investigate the account Obadiah had provided.
That led him to Morin.
This time, Morin hadn't even used an anonymous account.
The chaos from the last cyberwar was still fresh. He worried that remote uploads and complex laundering would trigger another incident.
So he pointed everything directly at himself.
His computer. His upload.
Anyone investigating would find him immediately.
And because it was so blatant, no one would believe it was real.
And if they still failed to find other leads and decided to approach him directly...
"Then I'll just have another video to sell," Morin thought. "I can sell it to three different parties."
That had been his plan from the beginning.
Exposure was inevitable. So he intended to control it-and profit from it.
That was why his attempts to hide the account balance and origin were sloppy.
Sloppy by his standards.
Perfect concealment required top-tier skills. And top-tier skills usually came with money.
Lure-Kidnap-Counter-kidnap-Film-Sell-Gain XP.
A complete photographer profit chain was born.
(Note: This chain is purely fictional. Any resemblance to real events is coincidental. Photographers, please behave.)
Meanwhile, Zola, having exhausted every lead, noticed something odd.
Morin possessed six million dollars.
Two million from Stark Industries.
One million from Obadiah.
Three million from "lottery winnings."
Ignoring the absurd luck...
Why was Stark Industries paying him?
Did I just catch a big fish?
No. That was too easy.
Zola poured massive resources into further investigation.
Nothing.
"There are only two possibilities," Zola concluded. "Either Morin is the mastermind and is confident enough not to care about exposure... or the real mastermind erased everything."
He preferred the first.
Overconfident people were easy to deal with.
The second possibility was terrifying.
"Most likely the first," Zola decided. "If so... he's valuable. And with that energy source and armor..."
He needed insurance.
Zola transmitted the intel to a Hydra base.
Two objectives.
Secure the energy source-or Tony Stark alive.
Investigate Morin.
No priority order.
The Hydra base analyzed the data.
The mission was classified as critical.
They would deploy their ace.
Cryogenic systems disengaged.
A man with shoulder-length hair was awakened, confusion clouding his eyes. Someone stood before him and read specific words, in a precise tone, from a document.
The man convulsed violently.
His head felt like it was being sawed open.
When the words ended, he went completely still.
If his chest hadn't been moving, he would have looked dead.
Then his eyes opened.
Cold.
Empty.
Machine-like.
"Winter Soldier, your mission," the Hydra officer said, handing him a file. "Begin training and testing. Deploy immediately."
The Winter Soldier said nothing.
He flipped through the file mechanically.
The officer was satisfied.
The Winter Soldier wasn't supposed to have emotions. If he did, that was a defect.
As for the mission-
There was no concern.
Across countless awakenings, the Winter Soldier had never failed.
He was the best.
Morin had no idea his "Photographer Chain Plan" had already hooked something dangerous.
He was on the phone with Tony, chatting casually.
Life needed surprises. Knowing everything like a cheat code was fun at first, but it dulled emotions over time. Without uncertainty, novelty disappeared.
Morin wanted to stay human.
A game with cheats was entertaining.
Briefly.
"Seriously," Tony said on the other end. "How did you film all that?"
He had considered every possibility.
None made sense.
"It's simple," Morin replied. "Have you ever watched a movie?"
"...What kind?"
"Any kind."
"Yes. And?" Tony frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"
He was annoyed. Tony usually controlled conversations. With Morin, he didn't.
He decided it wasn't his fault.
Their brainwaves just weren't aligned.
So far, Tony's impression of Morin was simple: money-obsessed, skilled photographer.
No.
Skilled wasn't accurate.
That level of camera work, under those conditions, capturing dialogue like that...
Was he even human?
Then Morin answered.
"In a movie, do you ever see the cameraman? I mean the one filming. Does an actor look at the camera?"
"You mean a blooper?"
"That's for low-level photographers and garbage actors," Morin said flatly. "Those aren't real photographers."
He continued, tone firm.
"A real photographer is never noticed. No one should be aware of him during the shoot. He captures everything perfectly, without existing."
"...So," Tony processed slowly, "you're filming a movie?"
"No." Morin corrected him. "My point is that as a normal photographer, it's normal for me to film scenes like that without being discovered."
Tony: "..."
Normal?
What part of that was normal?
Nothing about this was normal.
You are not a normal photographer, you bastard.