The helicopter touched down on a fundraising airstrip, its skids barely sinking into the thin layer of snow. As soon as Pierce, Wanda Maximoff, and the man known as Snakehead boarded, the transport's design shifted. Two rocket thrusters extended from its underside, the rotor blades folded away, and the entire craft converted into a sleek, high-speed jet.
Several more aircraft fell into formation behind them, all heading north.
Far behind, the super-prison floated silently in the sea. If Pierce had given the order, a single rocket could have annihilated everyone left alive inside — but there was no time for petty revenge. The real victory was already secured.
Fury's Arrival
On the horizon, a single white contrail cut through the mist. The sea frothed beneath the Quinjet as it skimmed the water at supersonic speed, closing the distance in seconds.
Fury was at the controls, with Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers strapped in behind him.
"Target in sight," Natasha reported coldly.
Without waiting for an order, she opened fire. A torrent of 20mm rounds rained down like a steel storm, tearing through the Hydra battleships still in the area. Those unlucky enough to be caught in the open were shredded or blown overboard.
Before Hydra could even mount a counterattack, a second Quinjet arrived, piloted by Maria Hill with Sam Wilson and Agent Kate on board. Together, the two aircraft unleashed precision strikes.
Within minutes, both Hydra warships were burning wrecks, swallowed by the sea.
The Empty Prison
Hovering above the damaged prison, Fury called through the comms to General Ross below.
"Ross, where's Pierce?"
Ross' voice crackled back over the comms, tense and angry.
"He got away. Took Duro Franco with him. I couldn't see which direction they went."
Fury cursed under his breath.
"So Hydra slips away again. Looks like we're back to square one."
Ross glared up at the Quinjet, his face red with fury.
"Square one? Are you out of your mind, Fury? He just took one of the most dangerous criminals into custody! You need to recall Lock immediately!"
Fury kept his face unreadable, though he could feel the weighRoss's words.
"Don't worry about it. Lock doesn't need to be bothered over something this small."
"Small?" Ross snapped. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. Pierce had a woman with him — she ripped apart a vibranium cage with her bare hands. Her power is on par with the Hulk."
That silenced everyone in the Quinjet.
Steve frowned, processing that. Natasha exchanged a look with Hill, who tightened her grip on the controls. Even Fury's one good eye narrowed.
He had underestimated Pierce.
The Hulk was dangerous enough, but Wanda Maximoff was something worse — not just raw power, but precision. She could attack from range, control minds, warp reality itself. And now, she was in Hydra's hands.
"We pull back for now," Fury finally said. "Ross, you're coming with us. It's not safe for you here."
Ross looked around at the half-empty prison. Only two or three cells still held living inmates; the rest had been wiped out during the emergency purge.
He said nothing, but climbed aboard.
Hydra's Base
Hours later, Pierce's convoy crossed from sea to land, heading deeper into a snow-covered wilderness.
A sprawling fortress loomed ahead, built in the style of an ancient Nordic keep but bristling with modern defenses. The planes landed in its central courtyard.
A tall, pale-skinned man in a Hydra uniform greeted them.
Pierce disembarked with a rare smile.
"General. Hail Hydra."
"Hail Hydra," the man replied, bowing.
Losses had been heavy — two battleships, dozens of soldiers — but the mission objective was a success.
The prisoner had been secured.
The Snakehead
Inside the fortress, Pierce escorted Wanda and their "guest" to a secure chamber. Hydra engineers began cutting through the vibranium restraints that bound Snakehead.
When the heavy lock finally clanged to the floor, Snakehead took a deep, shuddering breath.
Pierce stiffened, half-expecting some kind of retaliatory attack. Even Wanda raised her hands, scarlet energy forming around her fingers.
But Snakehead merely stretched his stiff shoulders and muttered, "I want steak. And a Coke."
Pierce blinked, then signaled to an aide. "Bring it. Now."
Minutes later, a plate of steaming steak and a bottle of Coke were placed in front of him.
Snakehead ate greedily, ignoring the Hydra soldiers, Wanda's burning red energy, and Pierce himself.
To Pierce, this calm indifference was terrifying.
This is what it means to be a king, he thought. Even surrounded by enemies, he treats them as beneath him. Not even worth a glance.
In truth, Snakehead's mind was racing.
Since being arrested, he had been treated differently from every other super-criminal. Even the prison guards seemed scared of him. The other inmates, normally rowdy and foul-mouthed, went silent whenever he so much as looked at them.
He wasn't stupid — he knew this wasn't because of who he was, but because of who they thought he was.
They believed he was someone important.
Someone terrifying.
And if they ever found out the truth — that he was just a smuggler, a man with no powers — they'd kill him in an instant.
No, he couldn't let them realize that.
He needed to become the person they thought he was.
The "Evil God"
Pierce lowered his voice and asked Wanda, "Can you sense his power level?"
Wanda focused, then slowly shook her head. "He feels… ordinary."
Snakehead almost choked on his Coke.
Oh no. Oh no. They can't know that!
He sat up straighter, fixing Pierce with a cold, dead-eyed stare.
Pierce felt a chill run down his spine. It was as if the man before him had just passed judgment.
He swallowed hard and said, "Mr. Duro… we meant no offense."
Snakehead chewed thoughtfully, then wiped his mouth and spoke in a slow, deliberate tone:
"Don't call me Duro. From now on… call me what Lock calls me."
Pierce hesitated. "And what would that be?"
Snakehead's lips curled into what he hoped was a terrifying smile.
"Call me… Evil God."
Pierce froze — then nodded solemnly.
"Yes… Evil God."
And just like that, the legend of another "supervillain" was born.
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