"Cthulhu?"
Pierce and his lieutenants exchanged puzzled looks. On its own, the name sounded strange — even unimpressive. But if Lock, the so-called King of Apocalypse, truly called this man by that title, then the weight of it changed everything.
Snakehead could almost see their uncertainty, and at last, he understood. Everyone here connected him to Lock. As long as that misunderstanding persisted, his life had value.
Fine. If they wanted to believe it, he'd lean into the lie. It was the oldest trick in the book — borrowing the skin of a tiger to scare the wolves.
Gangsters did it all the time. Whenever cornered, they'd claim to serve some big boss. More often than not, it was enough to make enemies hesitate.
Snakehead hid a grin. If I can't fight them, I'll stall them.
He let out a weary sigh. "She was right," he said, nodding toward Wanda. "I am just an ordinary man right now."
Pierce stiffened.
Snakehead continued, deliberately lowering his voice. "King Apocalypse… sealed away my strength."
He dabbed his mouth with a napkin and leaned back as though exhausted. "You've pulled me out, and for that I owe you. But until my power returns, I can't help you."
Inside, his mind raced. That should buy me some time. They won't kill me yet — not after spending so much to break me out. They'll watch. They'll wait. And in that gap… I'll find a way to run.
But Pierce's face darkened. "Your Excellency Evil God," he said gravely, "I'm afraid we don't have the luxury of time."
Snakehead froze.
Pierce leaned forward. "Lock may be gone from Earth, but after tonight's attack, Fury will call him back. If you haven't regained your strength before then, none of this will matter. Hydra needs you now."
Snakehead cursed inwardly. Me? Fight Lock? Are you insane? He thought back to the alien warship Lock had obliterated with a single gesture. Everyone had seen it. Everyone knew. There was no contest.
Pierce mistook his silence for wounded pride. His voice softened. "Sir Evil God, we're not asking you to confront Lock directly. We have… another plan."
He began to lay it out: Hydra's long game. Their infiltration of key governments. They intend to overthrow S.H.I.E.L.D. from within and turn Hydra into a legitimate, ruling authority.
"The coup will succeed only if someone powerful stands at the top," Pierce explained. "A being who can suppress S.H.I.E.L.D.'s heroes and ensure no resistance. Once the new order rises, we'll control the media, the courts, public opinion itself. Even Lock will have no choice but to recognize our rule."
Pierce's eyes gleamed. "And you, Your Excellency, will sit at the very top. You will replace Fury. You will be the uncrowned king of the new world."
Snakehead nearly choked on his Coke.
Him? The "uncrowned king"? He had once scraped by running smuggling rackets, ducking police raids, and bribing border guards. Now they wanted to crown him the master of a new global order?
The sheer absurdity nearly broke him — but also thrilled him.
It's madness. But if I refuse, they'll kill me. If I play along… maybe I live another day.
He straightened, adopting a solemn air. "It's not impossible. The seal can be broken sooner. But it depends on what you can provide."
Pierce bowed slightly. "Anything. Name it. Hydra can procure whatever you require."
Snakehead paused dramatically, then spoke with careful gravity. "I need the Super-Soldier Serum. Any version. Any derivative. And other formulas — anything that can awaken hidden power."
In truth, his stomach twisted with fear. Everyone knew the legend of the serum — from Johann Schmidt, the Red Skull, to Steve Rogers, the perfect Captain America. Hydra had tried for decades to replicate Erskine's lost formula.
Most attempts failed. Some produced monsters like the Abomination. Others gave temporary boosts with devastating side effects. Black-market versions floated everywhere — cheap, unstable, usually fatal.
Snakehead knew all this from his years in the underworld. He'd never dared touch the stuff. But now, with Hydra's eyes on him, he had no choice. If he could just survive the gamble… maybe he'd gain the power to keep playing his role.
Pierce hesitated. He was no fool. Something about this felt off. The Evil God relies on flawed serum to unseal himself?
Sensing doubt, Snakehead scowled and slammed his hands on the table. "I need the serum's energy to tear through Lock's seal from the inside. If you don't have it, then bring me someone powerful enough to release me!"
His voice rose, fierce with false bravado. "Only then will I lead Hydra against S.H.I.E.L.D. and stand against King Apocalypse himself!"
He closed his eyes, forcing his heartbeat to steady, terrified they might see through him.
The silence stretched — and then, slowly, Pierce nodded. The general at his side exchanged a look of awe. Even Wanda glanced at Snakehead with something like respect.
He survived under Lock's hand and lived to tell of it, they thought. That alone proves his strength.
Finally, Pierce asked, "Your Excellency… what kind of serum do you require?"
Snakehead opened his eyes, calm now, almost regal.
"All of them."
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