After the battle was over, everything became much easier.
First, the exposed Hydra agents were completely wiped out.
Then the remaining two helicarriers were slowly brought back down to the ground.
On the ground, cheers erupted—everyone ready to welcome the heroes who had just saved S.H.I.E.L.D.
Fury's prestige had risen sharply once again.
Although there were still likely Hydra members lurking among the surviving agents, their threat level was no longer high.
They could be ferreted out later.
Even Captain America, Black Widow, Kate, Falcon, and the others came down from the carrier smiling, relieved.
Only Fury and Hill still had faces dark as storm clouds.
The two stood at the hatch, not stepping down, their gazes sweeping over the agents gathered below.
"Colleagues, the war is not over!" Fury's voice boomed.
"Where is Alexander Pierce? Does anyone know?"
"Where are the 7th, 13th, and 18th elite squads?"
"Has anyone seen the Winter Soldier—the one who attacked me?"
The agents looked at one another.
Those missing now could basically be confirmed as Hydra.
But there were still a few hopeful ones wondering—did Pierce and the Hydra strike teams escape ahead of time?
Fury's expression didn't change. "We won too easily today. That's not normal."
If it had been anyone else saying this, the exhausted agents might have cursed him out.
So many had just died, and you call this easy?!
But when you thought about it—Pierce, the head of Hydra, was still missing—there was nothing easy about this at all.
Everyone had assumed the helicarriers were the true battleground, and Fury had thrown everything into taking them.
But Pierce, the Winter Soldier, and nearly all of Hydra's elite vanished without a trace.
Black Widow, Steveand, and Hill—all of them started to feel a pit in their stomachs.
Pierce wasn't running because he was afraid.
If Hydra were afraid, Hydra wouldn't exist in the first place.
There was only one explanation—they had more important objectives than the helicarriers.
They had willingly left a half-empty ship behind just to keep their real plans moving forward.
In other words, whether Fury succeeded or failed here was irrelevant to them.
Even Fury couldn't figure out what Pierce was really planning.
"Everyone return to posts!" Fury barked. "Remain on standby until further orders. Nobody leaves without my permission!"
"Yes, sir!!!"
Though the battlefield was still littered with corpses, Fury could not risk dispersing his people.
If Pierce had a second strike planned, Fury needed every bit of manpower ready to respond.
Immediately, Information Division agents went to work—satellites, hacked cameras, network sweeps—all focused on tracking Pierce's whereabouts.
Meanwhile, Fury, Steve, Natasha, Hill, Kate, and Falcon gathered together to discuss their next move.
"Hey, Steve," Natasha asked quietly, "did Lock give you a second message? Any more intel?"
Everyone turned their eyes toward Captain America.
The last message from Lock had saved them.
Even with the casualties, the death toll had been far lower than it would have been otherwise.
Lock wasn't just a powerhouse—his strategy was just as terrifying. Without realizing it, everyone was already relying on him.
Steve raised both hands helplessly. "Don't look at me like that. I barely know him. He only gave me one tip."
Everyone sighed, disappointed.
They had been hoping for a second brilliant move from the King of Apocalypse, a masterstroke plan that would tell them what to do next.
No such luck.
Just then, Fury's encrypted phone vibrated.
He checked the ID, frowned, and answered.
"How's the water temperature over there? It's 25.8 degrees here—perfect weather."
A calm male voice replied, "The sea's warmed up—24.2 degrees now. I'm thinking of coming up for some fresh air."
Everyone around was quiet—this was not small talk.
This was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s highest-level security code.
Agents like Fury had at least two lines: one for ordinary calls and another for secure communication.
Once the secure line was connected, the code phrases verified whether both ends were safe and not under duress.
If either side failed the phrase check, it was an alert to go dark immediately.
The phrases matched. The channel was secure.
"General Ross," Fury said, his tone still sharp, "why are you calling me right now? I'm busy."
General Thaddeus Ross—the same man who had hunted the Hulk for years, and later built the underwater super-prison.
He'd taken huge losses in the Hulk hunts with nothing to show for it, nearly ruining his career.
But the Raft, the super-prison he had spearheaded, became a major success.
Since the Battle of New York, super-powered criminals had been appearing more frequently.
Most were small fry—but sometimes there were dangerous ones.
No ordinary prison could hold them.
The Raft became indispensable.
Inside, any criminal—no matter how tough—would be docile as a kitten.
And if they got rowdy, Ross's methods would break them down quickly.
The government praised Ross to no end, calling him the "spine of the prison system."
Ross had become obsessed with running the Raft, spending years under the sea overseeing its operations personally.
So for him to call Fury over the encrypted channel meant this was something serious.
Fury frowned. What could be so urgent?
It wasn't like there was a prison break—if there was, Ross would just shout.
Send Natasha, Steve, or even Falcon, problem solved.
If that failed, wait for Lock to return—Lock's mere presence was enough to keep every super-criminal in line.
Why the secrecy?
Ross' voice dropped. "Someone wants to bypass you and interrogate Duro Franco."
"Who?" Fury blinked. "Duro… what?"
"Duro! Franco!"
Ross repeated, annoyed.
Fury scowled. "Never heard of him."
Ross nearly exploded. "Fury, you bald menace—you're completely irresponsible! He's the super-criminal captured personally by King Lock!"
"Do you have any idea how serious that is? And you forgot his name?!"
"If you're this senile, retire and let someone competent take your job!"
Ross' roar was so loud that Fury had to hold the phone away from his ear.
The memory finally clicked.
This was the smuggler Lock had captured—the one Fury had stashed in the Raft temporarily during a different crisis.
And then… well, he had gotten busy and simply forgotten.
Fury's expression darkened.
"Ross, you're right. This is serious."
He didn't care about Franco himself.
But if Alexander Pierce wanted that man interrogated, then something very big was happening.
"Who's trying to pull rank to get to him?" Fury asked.
Ross' tone was heavy. "Secretary Pierce himself."
Fury slowly lowered the phone, his one good eye narrowing.
Natasha, Steve, Hill, Kate, and Falcon all exchanged looks.
The corners of everyone's mouths twitched as they struggled not to laugh.
Hydra's leader, the great mastermind… trying to quietly interrogate one random criminal Lock had thrown into the Raft?
Whatever this was, it wasn't simple.
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