"This plan is good; it's worth adopting."
Pierce looked at the proposal Nick had sent over with satisfaction. Moreover, such a plan wouldn't require much time; the most crucial Helicarriers were already in the sky. It only required modifying a portion of the programming. This was a weapon of mass destruction for dealing with individuals harmful to Hydra, fully capable of erasing those who might be unfavorable to Hydra in the future.
He had originally thought Nick's utility had run out and was preparing to discard this man who knew too much, but he hadn't expected him to deliver such a surprise. It was fantastic. If Nick hadn't been absent, he almost wanted to brainwash the man for his own use. But after some thought, he realized this person wasn't suitable for brainwashing—his ambition was too great to control. Ultimately, Pierce abandoned this beautiful idea.
"Forget it. Once the plan is implemented, I'll just clean him out!"
Giving up on that idea made Pierce a little uncomfortable. Nick was indeed a talent; otherwise, he wouldn't have pushed the guy into the position of Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. He hadn't expected the man to break free from his control. He had planned to deal with Nick long ago, but there had never been a good opportunity. Now he was almost reluctant, but for the future of Hydra, Nick had to be eliminated. At this moment, Pierce hardened his heart.
"What a pity, Nick."
"Don't let me down, Pierce."
In this game, two old foxes had already stepped onto the chessboard. Just like a line from a movie: 'When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.' Pierce wanted to eliminate Nick, but Nick had likewise begun to suspect his own superior. As a spymaster, he still held the most basic professional rule: never trust anyone, including himself. Thus, Pierce had underestimated Nick. Nick had long been suspicious—not just of Alexander Pierce, but even of the President's councilors; he didn't trust a single one and suspected them all.
"Even in Death, you don't let people have peace, Hydra."
Looking at the lists of Special Agents who had died due to mission failures, all of whom were confirmed Hydra Special Agents, Nick had directly assigned the most dangerous tasks to these guys. He sent them out while concealing the difficulty of the missions, leading to their total annihilation. While his heart ached, Nick was also relieved; at least it wasn't the true S.H.I.E.L.D. Special Agents sacrificing themselves in vain. These guys were just fanatics left over from World War II. Thinking this way, Nick's heart, troubled by the loss of personnel, found some solace.
"I Hope those kids can see the flaws in this plan. Captain, don't just immerse yourself in the past; look at the present more."
This plan was very extreme. He intentionally provoked the dissatisfaction of the Avengers so they would resist the project and completely break away from S.H.I.E.L.D. He only now truly agreed that Captain America and Tony were right: such extraordinary combat power was not suitable to be controlled by the government. Once it fell into the hands of some deeply hidden individuals, the countdown to the world's destruction would begin. He needed resistors to appear. Once resistors appeared, opponents would also emerge. Those who opposed with all their might would undoubtedly be mostly members of Hydra. Nick's calculation was brilliant: pitting the two sides against each other to bring Hydra out from the shadows into the light, perhaps allowing for a clean sweep.
Nick had great confidence in this plan. He believed Hydra would definitely not miss this opportunity to modify the program and eliminate figures harmful to them. Countless bloodstains had proven that these guys wouldn't care if the blood on their hands belonged to innocents; they had no humanity to speak of.
"Oh oh oh~! Mission failed!"
BOOM!
Accompanied by a loud crash, Deadpool's upper body was smashed into pieces. The cold, expressionless Winter Soldier picked up his mechanical arm, which had been broken in half, and quickly retreated from the scene. He was executing a mission. After being brainwashed, his eyes held only the mission. But someone had stopped him and even cut off his mechanical arm. Although one of the opponent's swords had also broken, relying on years of killing instinct, the Winter Soldier grabbed a bomb from his waist, quickly stuck it to Deadpool's chest, and kicked him away. The movement was swift, his reaction superb, and he didn't even injure himself in the blast.
"I didn't expect to run into such a tough nut. This hundred million is indeed not easy to get. I need to think of a way."
Before long, a small bald head quickly grew out of the lower half of the corpse. Now that the head had grown, the lower half supporting it began to stand up and run away. The commotion here was too big; although American Police are known for arriving after the fact, they would still come. Using his newly grown tiny hands, Deadpool grabbed the hilts of his two swords and started running. As he walked, he complained to the narrator, wanting to tell the author to stop making his Deaths so bizarre. At the very least, he could just lie there like a normal corpse, but he really didn't want a second round of being blown up. Most importantly, couldn't he be given a good weapon? To think his swords were broken—that little bastard of an author.
Artoria definitely hadn't expected just how lucky Wade Wilson, Deadpool, would be to find Bucky's location so quickly. It was as if he were blessed by luck itself. But Wade was also unlucky; he hadn't understood the nature of the Winter Soldier. He should have just gone for the head instead of trying to act cool by cutting the arm. He ended up hitting a tough wall. Although he cut off the opponent's arm, one of his swords was ruined. Such good Alloy swords were hard to find now, especially with special alloys becoming more expensive and being 'unavailable at any price' on the black market. This made Deadpool very sad; he was out of money.
"Hey! Boss, I want more money! Give me a good sword and I'll flatten the whole world for you—just kidding..."
After taking the call, Artoria rolled her eyes helplessly. This guy said a whole lot of words just for the sake of a weapon, didn't he? Money was easy; she had plenty. As for the weapon, she would just give him the Adamantium sword she used to use. As long as he could complete the mission, everything was negotiable.
"What's wrong? Who upset our Princess Artoria?"
Artoria's helpless expression was caught by Hope, who had just walked in. Dr. Pym had woken up and was recovering well, though he kept muttering the name 'Ultron 1.' Hope thought it was her father's new research topic and didn't say anything. Seeing that the old man was fine, Hope hurried back to the company. She had been specializing in Quantum Realm technology during this period and had achieved many results, but these were theoretical and needed practical application. Once she was prepared in a while, Hope planned to start experimenting with her hypothesis.
"It's nothing! Just an idiot. Why are you back in such a hurry? You should spend more time with your father. I gave you the chance for paid leave; you should know how many people would kill for that opportunity."
Not wanting to mention this matter to Hope—after all, her goal was to kill someone—Artoria changed the subject. She knew this herself and there was no need for those around her to know. Dr. Pym was indeed getting on in years; if anything happened to him, there would be no Hope of rescuing Hope's mother from the Quantum Realm.
"He has too much pride and doesn't want me to see him in such a pathetic state. I need to give him some space."
More than worrying about his health, Hope knew her father's stubborn temper. Seeing him lying in bed unable to move, looks of concern would be more painful to him than Death. It was a matter of a man's dignity. Hope understood this, so after Dr. Pym regained consciousness, she returned to her work. It wasn't that she didn't love her family, but rather, the way she expressed love was different.
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