The room settled again, though an awkward tension still lingered in the air.
Drake ran a hand through his short, scruffy hair. "Right… inner circle disguised as butlers and maids. Sure. That makes slightly more sense."
Olivia exhaled slowly, her posture relaxing a bit. "Still feels weird… but better than being frozen in a pod or hunted down by Hydra."
Bucky, quiet till now, looked up. His voice was rough, but steady. "And Steve? You said he's coming?"
Natasha nodded. "Already called him. He's on his way."
Michael turned his head slightly toward Bucky. "Figured you'd want to see him. You two have… unfinished business."
Bucky said nothing, but his clenched jaw and distant eyes said plenty. The memories were still blurry, fragmented, but Steve was a name burned into his bones.
Just then, the sound of distant footsteps echoed through the hall.
A moment later, the door opened.
Steve Rogers stepped inside.
His eyes locked onto Bucky instantly.
"Buck…" he said quietly.
Bucky stood up, slow and unsure. His breath caught as if seeing a ghost. "Steve?"
The silence between them was heavy. Then Steve stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Bucky in a tight embrace.
Bucky didn't hug back at first. But then his hands lifted, shaky, and he gripped Steve like a drowning man grabbing a rope.
"I thought you were dead," Steve said, voice thick with emotion.
"I was," Bucky whispered.
Everyone gave them space.
Michael, meanwhile, stepped aside, motioning to Natasha. "I'll let them talk. Come with me, we've got other things to arrange."
Natasha gave a short nod and followed.
Behind them, Drake and Olivia sat down on the edge of the ornate couch, still overwhelmed, but beginning to breathe a little easier.
Mia returned then, carrying a tray of drinks and snacks. "They calm now?"
Michael glanced over his shoulder. "More or less."
"Good," Mia said, setting the tray down gently. "Then maybe now, we can all talk about what comes next."
A few hours later, the light outside dimmed into twilight, casting golden hues across the polished floors of the White Estate.
Michael stood in the study, flipping through a leather-bound book with little real interest. He didn't need to read it—he was just waiting.
The door opened behind him. Steve stepped in, Bucky just behind.
Michael didn't turn, but he spoke.
"I take it your reunion was civil?"
Steve's voice was low but steady. "It was. Thanks for that."
Michael finally shut the book and turned to face them, silver eyes unreadable. "You're welcome."
Bucky remained quiet, his metal arm flexing absently as he studied the man who had pulled him out of Hydra's grasp again.
Steve, however, cut straight to the point. "Natasha told me what you said… about there still being Hydra in S.H.I.E.L.D."
Michael gave a faint smirk. "Did that surprise you?"
Steve's jaw tensed. "It pissed me off."
"Then you haven't been paying attention," Michael said, his voice calm but cutting. "You think after the defeat of Red Skull and Zola, Hydra was erased from history? Then you're wrong."
"Hydra isn't just an organization. It's an idea—an embodiment of control born from fear and the belief that people are too weak to govern themselves. That kind of ideology is a human flaw. As long as there is selfishness and fear… Hydra will live."
"So, you're saying Hydra never died… just went underground like a sleeper agent?" Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes.
Michael raised a hand slowly. "Not like sleeper agents—they are sleeper agents. Old names, new faces, but the agenda is the same. From what I've seen, what I've uncovered… I can safely say more than 50% of what you call S.H.I.E.L.D. is still Hydra."
He closed the book with a quiet thud, his silver gaze meeting theirs.
"And that's me being generous."
Hearing him, all three fell silent.
Then suddenly, Natasha broke the silence. "So… is that why you didn't let the SHIELD keep tessaract and other powerful weapons?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.
Steve also looked at Michael, concern tightening his expression.
Meanwhile, Bucky stiffened slightly at the mention of the Tesseract, recalling its power and wondering why it was being brought up now.
"In part, yes," Michael replied calmly.
Natasha let out a quiet sigh, then asked, "And what about Dreykov? Are you going to tell me he was working for Hydra too?"
Michael gave a slight nod. "Yes. He served Hydra. After Hydra's fall, he continued their ideology. You lost your childhood to him, as he was making soldiers for HYDRA, of course no one knew that, for whole world he was just manufacturer of beautiful spy women and sold them to different organisation across the world."
Natasha's jaw clenched, a flicker of pain and fury crossing her face.
Steve took a step forward, his voice steady but laced with quiet urgency.
"I need your help, Michael."
Michael raised an eyebrow, folding his arms loosely. "Do you?" he said, tone flat.
Steve nodded. "There are still Hydra cells out there. Not just Dreykov's network or the ones you dismantled. These ones are buried deep—off-grid. Too deep for even S.H.I.E.L.D., assuming S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't been compromised beyond saving."
Michael tilted his head slightly. "And you want me to clean up your mess?"
Steve's expression fell. "It's not about blame. You have power. You can reach places we can't. People we can't."
Michael let out a dry chuckle. "That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem."
"Michael," Natasha said sharply from the side, stepping forward. "If what you said is true—that more than 50% of S.H.I.E.L.D. is compromised—then you know this isn't just our problem. Hydra doesn't stay in the shadows. Eventually, they'll reach for the surface again."
Michael turned to face them, his silver eyes calm, unreadable. "And what happens when I clean it all up for you? Do you breathe easier? Put your trust back in institutions that failed you once? Or do you wait until the next monster rises with a different name but the same sickness?"
Steve met his gaze. "Maybe. But I'd rather try than let it rot."
There was a pause. The air in the room seemed to still.
Finally, Michael sighed and looked away. "Fine. I'll help." He raised a finger. "But not because you asked. I'm just curious to see how deep the infection goes before I decide what to burn next."
*******
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