The digital peace of the Malibu estate, usually a fortress of calm efficiency, was shattered at 3:14 AM by a single ping. In the workshop, dormant holograms flickered to life without a command, bathing the room in a cold blue light.
"Sir," JARVIS whispered through the speakers, his synthesized voice trembling with a simulated urgency that no code should possess. "A ghost signal has just terminated in the mainframe. It originated from a decommissioned S.H.I.E.L.D. server in Siberia. It contains a security file... one S.H.I.E.L.D. has been classified under 'Level 10' clearance for two decades."
Tony, who was busy tinkering with the molecular structure of a new vibranium gold alloy under a microscope, didn't even look up. His Cognitive Multitasking was already processing three different engineering schematics while his Technopathy felt the ripple in the local network like a physical touch.
"Delete it, JARVIS," Tony muttered, his voice thick with sleep deprivation. He reached for a cup of coffee, his hand moving with the blur of Bullet Time precision. "Probably just Fury trying to spook me after our little chat. Tell the pirate I'm busy."
"I cannot delete it, Sir," JARVIS replied, the denial hanging heavy in the air. "My core protocols prevent me from erasing evidence regarding the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark."
Tony froze. The coffee mug slipped from his fingers, shattering on the concrete floor, the dark liquid spreading like a stain. The sound was deafening in the sudden silence.
"What did you just say?" he whispered, turning slowly toward the main console.
The air in the room seemed to thicken, pressurized by the weight of the past crashing into the present.
"Play it."
The central holographic display expanded, filling the room. It was black and white CCTV footage dated December 16, 1991. Tony watched in a paralyzed silence that felt like a vacuum, sucking the air from his lungs. With his Eye Boy vision, he saw every detail in hyper clarity… the dilation of the killer's pupils through the visor and the cold mechanical glint of the metallic arm reflecting the moonlight.
He saw his father's car hit the tree, the metal screaming. He saw a man on a motorcycle… approach the wreckage with the terrifying calm of a machine.
He watched the man crush his father's skull with a mechanical precision that spoke of no mercy. He watched the man move to the passenger side and wrap his hand around his mother's throat.
"JARVIS... enhance," Tony choked out, his voice a ghost of itself.
The rage surged through his Super Soldier physiology like a tidal wave of adrenaline. His Technopathy expanded instinctively, his mind reaching out and forcibly seizing every server within a ten meter radius, yanking the hidden metadata from the file with the violence of an interrogation.
He saw the S.H.I.E.L.D. digital stamps buried deep in the encryption. He saw the Hydra signatures woven into the clearance codes. The file showed that the mission had been sanctioned by a cell deep within the agency. It showed that Nick Fury's organization had been hosting the killers for decades.
Tony's breathing became shallow, rapid. His High Speed Regeneration kicked in as his blood pressure spiked to lethal levels, his body healing the internal strain of his own fury in real time.
"They knew," Tony whispered. His voice was a vibrating growl, a sound that didn't belong to a human. "Fury talked to me about 'real storms.' He talked to me about 'teams.' And all this time, he was sitting on the grave of my parents."
Suddenly, he roared.
Every metal tool, every spare part, every chassis, every screw and bolt in the workshop groaned as they were repelled by an invisible force, slamming into the walls with a thunderous crash that shook the foundation of the house.
"JARVIS!"
"Sir, what are your orders?"
"I'm going to pull the wings off the eagle, JARVIS."
Tony stepped into the center of the room, the debris swirling around him. He used his Magnetism to pull the armor pieces of the Mark VIII toward him at terminal velocity. His Bullet Time perception allowed him to catch and align the joints perfectly in less than a second, the suit assembling around him in a blur of gold and red.
As the faceplate slammed shut with a metallic clang, his Technopathy linked directly with the suit's HUD, merging man and machine into a single entity.
"I'm seeing it now, JARVIS," Tony growled, his mind diving into the S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe through the backdoors Aryan had left for him. With his Cognitive Multitasking, he began running ten thousand parallel searches. He bypassed Fury's "Level 10" encryption like it was a child's toy lock.
He saw the rot. Names like Alexander Pierce and Jasper Sitwell appeared in flashing red. He saw the Winter Soldier's maintenance logs and the cryo freeze schedules.
He saw that Fury had known the Starks were assassinated, even if he didn't know the face of the killer. He had kept it from Tony to "manage" him, to keep him as a useful asset.
Tony ignited the thrusters, blowing the roof off his workshop in a shower of glass and steel as he accelerated to Mach 3 in seconds, his Super Soldier body handling the crushing G force without a flinch.
In the S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion in Washington D.C., every computer screen suddenly turned blood red. Using his Technopathy from thousands of miles away, Tony rewrote their BIOS in real time. He locked their weapon systems, disabled their comms and began dumping every dirty secret Hydra had hidden into the public domain.
"I'm coming for the man with the metal arm," Iron Man's voice boomed over the S.H.I.E.L.D. emergency frequencies. "And if S.H.I.E.L.D. tries to shield him, I'll drop the entire building into the Potomac."
———
Far away at Umbrella HQ, Aryan stood by the window, watching the thermal signature of the Mark VIII streak across the East Coast like a vengeful comet on Red Queen's global map.
"He's moving faster than the military satellites can track," Red Queen noted, her voice tinged with awe. "His magnetism is interfering with the local grid. He's a walking EMP."
"Let him burn," Aryan murmured, his reflection in the glass a mask of calm satisfaction. "Fury wanted a storm. Now he has one he can't calculate his way out of."
"Queen," he said, turning from the window. "Tony has provided the distraction. Now, show the world the face of its masters."
"With pleasure, Aryan," Red Queen replied. Her 16 year old avatar looked like a digital goddess of judgment, her eyes glowing with the data of billions. "The packets are ready. Every politician, every sleeper agent and every corrupt soul in the 'system' is tagged."
In a single burst, Red Queen rewrote the global narrative. Every smartphone, every billboard in Times Square, every television in the Pentagon and every workstation in the World Security Council flickered and changed.
With the help of Aryan's Technopathy and Red Queen's infinite processing power, they provided the receipts.
They published the biometric profiles and offshore bank accounts of every Hydra agent, from high ranking directors like Alexander Pierce down to the janitors at the Triskelion who reported on their colleagues. They showed the world that seventy percent of their "protectors" were wearing a Nazi born death cult's sigil in secret.
But they didn't stop at Hydra. Aryan used this chaos to purge the "clean" world too. They released high definition evidence of senators, governors and international diplomats who were embezzling funds, orchestrating local wars for profit and "eating the people" from the inside out through corporate kickbacks.
For those politicians who were simply in Aryan's way… Red Queen seamlessly integrated them into the Hydra hierarchy. Fake bank transfers, fabricated emails and digital trails that looked perfect. In the eyes of the public, corruption was now synonymous with Hydra. To be a "bad politician" was to be a "Hydra agent." There was no middle ground.
In London, Paris and Washington D.C., the streets filled with people who had just seen proof that their leaders were monsters.
The Pentagon went into a total blackout as their own security systems… now controlled by Red Queen, locked the doors, trapping the traitors inside with the loyalists who had just seen the data.
Police stations became war zones as honest officers realized their captains were on the list.
"The global heartbeat is erratic, Aryan," Red Queen reported, her fingers dancing over a holographic globe that was turning red with civil unrest. "Riots in forty two countries. The World Security Council is currently trying to flee their bunkers, but I've redirected their private jets to land at Umbrella controlled airfields."
Aryan stood at the window of his office, watching the chaos unfold on a monitor. Through his Omega Level Telepathy, he could feel the collective rage of humanity. It was a beautiful roar.
"Fury is trying to call the President," Queen noted with a smirk. "But I've put him on a permanent hold with a recording of Tony's message. And the President? Well, he's currently staring at his own tax returns being broadcast on the Jumbotron in D.C."
By labeling the corrupt as Hydra, Aryan had given the world a monster to hate and a reason to look for a new savior. S.H.I.E.L.D. was dead. The governments of the world were paralyzed. The old order was being burned down by its own people, fueled by the "truth" he had fed them.
"Is this enough, Aryan?" Queen asked, watching the data streams turn crimson.
"No," Aryan replied, watching a live feed of Tony Stark ripping the roof off a S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse in search of the Winter Soldier.
"This is just the demolition. Now, we prepare the foundation. When the world is tired of the fire, they will come to Umbrella for the water."