For Natasha Romanoff, life as a spy had never been easy, but deep in her heart, she still longed for moments of peace. Standing by the darkened pier, she inhaled the salty air and tried to remember what it felt like to be ordinary — to live without lies or missions.
Nick Fury's deep voice broke the quiet.
"Did he come to see you?"
Natasha shook her head. "No. According to my sources inside Vanderbuilt Technologies, he didn't even read the note. He just threw it away." Her tone hardened. "He's extremely cautious, Director. I made sure my performance at the gala was flawless — there shouldn't have been a single flaw. Any other man would've fallen for it."
Fury folded his arms, the glow from the nearby lamp reflecting off his eyepatch. "I expected as much. Henry isn't an easy man to handle. But the technology he's sitting on—" he paused, lowering his voice, "—is something the world's been dreaming of. The kind of innovation that could shift global power overnight."
Natasha tilted her head. "You think he's working alone?"
Fury's expression darkened. "That's what I want you to find out. No one develops breakthroughs like the Modia Units in such a short time without help. Your mission is to dig deeper. If there's anyone behind him, I want names. And if possible…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Bring back a working prototype."
Natasha blinked incredulously. "What do you think I am, Superman?"
Fury sighed with a faint smile. "No, but you're the best agent I've got. Besides me, of course."
Natasha rolled her eyes, exhaling a plume of smoke. "You're unbelievable."
"Listen, Romanoff," Fury said, his voice suddenly stern. "Every major criminal syndicate in the world is after Vanderbuilt's tech. HYDRA, Ten Rings, the underworld in New York — they all want it. If that technology falls into the wrong hands…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. Natasha understood perfectly.
"I'll do what I can," she said finally, stubbing out her cigarette.
Fury nodded. "That's all I ask. Keep your distance, stay quiet, and report everything. We're walking on a razor's edge here."
---
Meanwhile, at S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, the atmosphere was tense.
Inside the high-security office of Alexander Pierce, every layer of defense had been activated. Bulletproof shutters sealed the windows, and the room was cast in shadows except for the massive digital screen glowing at the front.
On it was a detailed 3D map of New York City. A single red dot moved slowly across the screen — precise, unbroken, relentless.
Pierce's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "So, he's finally on the move…"
He pressed a hidden switch beneath the desk, and several encrypted command lines appeared on the display. His fingers danced across the controls.
"It's time," he murmured. His tone turned cold, the kind that could freeze blood.
"Activate HYDRA Protocol Omega. Begin the operation."
Somewhere beneath the city, encrypted servers woke to life, transmitting orders through dark channels. Dozens of black ops units, mercenaries, and assassins moved at once, like spiders crawling out of the shadows.
The target was simple: eliminate Henry and steal Vanderbuilt Technologies' data core.
---
Across the city, high above in the New York Imperial Tower, Wilson Fisk — better known as Kingpin — stood before his wide glass window, overlooking the city he once ruled. His reflection in the glass was almost monstrous: a towering figure in an immaculate white suit, his face half-hidden in shadow.
A sinister smile crept onto his lips. The past few weeks had been brutal. His empire — drugs, weapons, corruption — all crushed piece by piece by Henry's rapid technological rise.
Half of his subordinates were dead or arrested. His supply lines were burned, his networks severed. The only reason any of his operation still survived was because he had ordered the survivors to retreat underground before the final collapse.
And the cause of it all?
Vanderbuilt Technologies.
Kingpin's fist clenched around his glass, shattering it in one hand. Blood ran down his knuckles, but he didn't even flinch.
"They think they can destroy me with machines?" he growled. "Then let's see how long they last against real killers."
He turned to his lieutenants waiting in the shadows. "HYDRA's making their move tonight. We'll join in. Henry's convoy will never leave the city alive."
The men nodded silently. The Kingpin's eyes gleamed with malice. "Then let's begin," he said softly, as shards of glass fell to the floor like rain.
---
At that very moment, Henry's convoy was cruising down the dimly lit highway on the outskirts of New York. The Vanderbuilt Technologies vehicles moved in tight formation, sleek, armored, and silent.
Inside the lead car, Henry sat back with his fingers pressed to his temples, reviewing the night's events. The deal with Obadiah Stane had gone smoothly — too smoothly, perhaps. If experience had taught him anything, it was that peace always came before the storm.
Across from him, Izzy, his ever-alert assistant, frowned at the digital screen embedded in the dashboard. Her sharp instincts picked up something unusual.
"Mr. President," she said cautiously. "Two vehicles have been following us for several minutes."
She tapped the console, and the screen zoomed in. Two dark sedans trailed behind at a fixed distance — never overtaking, never falling back.
Henry didn't even look surprised. A small smirk tugged at his lips. "It seems some people couldn't wait to make their move."
Breaker, sitting in the front passenger seat, turned sharply. "Should I lose them?"
"No," Henry said, his voice calm and almost amused. "Let's see what they're planning. Whoever's behind this attack — they're only the first wave. I want to know who sent them."
Breaker nodded, though uneasily. The rest of the convoy tightened their formation, ready for anything.
Henry looked out the tinted window, eyes cold and analytical. Ever since he revealed the existence of the Modia Units, he knew the vultures would gather. Everyone wanted his technology — governments, cartels, and private empires alike.
But even he didn't expect them to strike so soon.
"Fools," he muttered. "Do they really think they can take me down so easily?"
---
Moments later, as the convoy reached a fork in the road, the real attack began.
From both side streets, dozens of black Mercedes-Benz SUVs roared out, their engines growling like beasts. The convoy slammed on the brakes as the road ahead was instantly blocked.
In less than ten seconds, more than a hundred armed men surrounded them, their suits bulletproof, their weapons military-grade. The night exploded with gunfire before anyone could speak.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The front car's tires blew out instantly, sparks flying as metal scraped against asphalt. Bullets rained down like a storm.
Breaker pulled the emergency brake, the convoy grinding to a halt. The air filled with the sound of shattering glass and ricocheting metal.
Henry's car, however, remained untouched. As the first wave of bullets reached it, a transparent energy grid shimmered to life around the vehicle — a personal defense barrier projected from the car's frame.
Every bullet that hit it was instantly vaporized into glowing sparks.
From inside, Henry watched the display with calm detachment. "Looks like HYDRA is impatient," he said coldly. "Good. Let's give them a warm welcome."
Izzy activated the onboard defense systems, and the car's dashboard lit up with red indicators. "Shields are stable. We can counterattack on your order!"
Breaker slammed a new magazine into his rifle. "Say the word, boss!"
Henry's eyes flashed with a faint, predatory glow. "Don't kill them all. I want one alive. Someone has to deliver my message."
Outside, the attackers fanned out, shouting orders in several languages. They expected a massacre — what they didn't expect was the trap they had walked into.
Henry reached out and tapped the control screen. "Activate Guardian Protocol."
The air around the convoy shimmered — and then several humanoid shapes stepped out from the rear truck, their eyes glowing blue.
The Modia Units had awakened.
Their metal feet struck the pavement in perfect unison, forming a defensive wall around the convoy. Bullets tore into them, but none fell. Their armor deflected every round.
The night sky lit up with gunfire, flames, and sparks as Henry's convoy countered the ambush.
From a nearby rooftop, a HYDRA sniper spoke into his comms, panic in his voice. "Target is protected by autonomous combat units! Repeat, target is not human—"
His words cut off as a plasma round from a Modia Unit obliterated his position.
Inside his car, Henry watched it all with icy focus. "Let this be a lesson," he murmured. "Anyone who wants my technology must first survive my creations."
The night burned with warfire. The age of machines had officially begun.
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