Inside the special prison.
Because all the detainees were top-level figures, the military had no choice but to use a special facility costing billions of dollars.
The moment Natasha stepped into this "VIP guest lounge," she froze.
"Steve? Barton? Falcon?"
Locked inside were familiar faces—Avengers, once world-famous heroes.
Now bruised, battered, and confined in reinforced cells.
Clearly, they hadn't been treated kindly before being tossed in here.
"Natasha… even you?"
Barton stared in disbelief.
Falcon and Steve's arrests were understandable—they had broken federal law to protect the wanted Bucky. But Natasha? She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, working for the country. Why was she now a prisoner?
"Because of a mission nine years ago… I killed the wrong man."
Natasha gave a bitter smile as the Mark suit escorting her shoved her into an individual cell.
"And you?" she asked Barton.
"Same. Something I did years ago, before I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. Back when I was still working for the wrong people."
Barton scratched his head awkwardly.
Yes, he had once walked in the shadows, but he had long since turned over a new leaf.
Weren't those old debts supposed to have been wiped clean?
Why now?
"Don't you get it yet? Look at those damn robots!"
Falcon snapped, pointing toward the Mark suits patrolling the doors.
Barton's face darkened. The truth was obvious.
Most of the Avengers were already in custody.
Who was left? Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, maybe a handful more.
With Steve locked away, who could lead them now?
"You're saying… Stark? No, he wouldn't."
Barton shook his head, unwilling to believe it.
"Don't fool yourself. Who else could field this many Mark suits? If it's not him, then who? That so-called 'brotherhood'—he ditched it the moment we became inconvenient."
Falcon's words dripped with venom.
To the world, the Mark suits were Stark.
Now those very armors had come for the Avengers.
Steve's expression darkened.
"No. Not Stark. These aren't his. The military must have forced him to hand over part of the tech. He was with me just now."
At that, the room fell silent.
If it wasn't Stark… then the military already had his tech.
Mass-producing it.
Flooding the world with mechanized soldiers—fearless, tireless, without conscience.
The thought made their skin crawl.
"Then why lock us up under false charges? Unless…"
Steve's brows knitted as a chilling realization crept in.
"It's Hydra."
From the corner, Bucky's voice rang out, his tone distant, fragmented.
"I… don't remember much. But it's them…"
"Hydra?"
Everyone stiffened.
Once, even S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director had been one of Hydra's leaders, a revelation that had shocked America to its core.
And though Saitama and Saturday Sales had unleashed orbital cleansing beams that wiped Hydra's open forces from the map, the organization had never truly died.
A centipede cut in half still writhes.
The heroes exchanged grim glances. For the first time, real dread filled the room.
…
At Stark's seaside villa.
Tony sat in silence, the weight pressing on him heavier than ever.
"Jarvis… why do I feel this way?"
"Sir, perhaps it's because of the arrests. The technology you surrendered has given the military power to shackle your allies. Guilt weighs on you."
Jarvis's voice was calm.
"Maybe… No. Jarvis, analyze their motives!"
Tony snapped, suddenly realizing the truth might be far darker.
Streams of data cascaded across his screens.
When the results appeared, Tony's face paled.
"The Secretary of State?!"
It all pointed back to him.
The very man who had taken Tony's tech.
Digging deeper, Jarvis had intercepted classified data. The Secretary had been trading with foreign powers, building assembly lines for mass-producing Mark suits. Crude copies, but still far deadlier than human soldiers.
And among those files—proof of something worse.
"Hydra…"
Tony's heart sank.
The Secretary of State was colluding with Hydra.
Which meant everything—the arrests, the suits, the accords—was part of their conspiracy.
"Sir, I understand your rage. But without allies, if you move against them now, you'll only burn with them."
Jarvis warned quietly.
Tony clenched his fists.
The Avengers were fractured. Hydra was rising again, hiding behind the world's governments.
Using his tech to expand.
There was only one option left.
"Jarvis… find me this kid."
He pulled up a photo.
A scrawny teenager with glasses, standing on the sheer wall of a skyscraper, clad in a silly striped costume.
A boy who could cling to walls a hundred meters high.
Spider-Man.
(End of Chapter)
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