Thud!
The moment Hawk shot across the skies like a streak of light heading toward Washington, D.C., Ophelia's knees buckled. She collapsed to the floor of her office.
A male Hydra agent, hearing the noise, rushed in nervously. Seeing his superior sprawled on the ground, he froze—then a glint lit his eyes. He hurried forward, pretending concern.
"Boss…"
This man had joined Hydra just last year, but had already been chosen by the alluring Madame Viper as her personal bodyguard. His ambition burned bright.
He was only twenty-five, while Ophelia's true age was unknown. But men sought advancement above all else—and what better platform than this? If he could win her favor, he'd skip a century of struggle overnight.
He didn't know what had just happened in the office. But now was the time to act.
And indeed, his instincts were right—up to a point.
Ophelia did not push him away. She let him take her arm, let him hold her against his chest. A faint smile curved her lips as she beckoned him closer with one delicate finger.
His heart nearly burst with excitement.
Then he did burst.
Literally.
The instant his lips brushed her poisonous green ones, his eyes went wide. A viridian light seeped into every pore, racing through his organs.
In a blink, his insides liquefied.
Bang—!
Like a water balloon bursting, the man collapsed into a puddle of green sludge at her feet.
The slime wriggled as if alive, slithering to her high heels. She absorbed it in seconds.
Ophelia tilted her swanlike neck, eyes closed, and exhaled slowly. When she opened them again, she looked younger—rejuvenated by her victim.
She returned to her desk, calm restored. Her gaze fell once more on the framed photo of herself with Anna.
The picture had always been there. And yes—she had truly been Anna's friend.
But her motives had not been pure.
She was one of Hydra's old guard, alongside Zola and Stryker. Anna, however, was the protégé of Pierce, Hydra's new generation. Old and new were destined to clash. Befriending Anna, allying with Pierce—that had been her strategy.
She was lucky she hadn't put that plan into play.
She leaned back, lost in thought.
Knock, knock.
"Enter."
Her assistant stepped in, phone in hand.
"Madam, a call from Mr. Pierce."
Ophelia hesitated. She took the phone, but didn't answer. Instead she glanced at her aide.
"Find me another bodyguard."
"Yes, Madam."
"Leave me."
The aide departed.
Ophelia looked down at the ringing phone, her green-painted nails tapping the screen. She cut the call and shut the device off.
Hadn't she heard Hawk's words? If she lied to him, she would die worse than Pierce.
So why waste breath on a dead man walking?
She tossed the phone aside and closed her eyes, savoring her narrow escape.
Meanwhile, in Washington, D.C.—inside S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, the Triskelion—battle had begun.
Captain America's voice echoed everywhere:
"…Hydra has grown within our ranks.
Strike teams and Insight operatives—they're Hydra too. They could be standing right beside you. Once the Helicarriers launch, they'll have absolute control.
They assassinated Nick Fury.
They've seized every S.H.I.E.L.D. base but New York.
Freedom has always had a cost. I'm willing to pay it. Even if I stand alone, I will. But I believe I'm not alone!"
His words froze agents mid-step. Hydra operatives snarled, drawing weapons.
Gunfire erupted.
Meanwhile, in the Triskelion's upper chamber, four World Security Council members turned toward Alexander Pierce. They had heard Cap's voice, seen his conviction.
One was a man who had once laid down his life to save the world.
The other, Pierce.
There was no choice.
The French councilor spoke first, fury in his voice. "You bastard!"
Pierce only smirked.
At that moment, a Hydra strike team marched in, guns raised, surrounding the four councilors. The message was clear: move and die.
The captain handed Pierce a tablet. "Sir, we've lost contact with bases in New Mexico, Texas, Arkansas… and Minnesota. This is the last feed before blackout."
Pierce looked.
Each feed ended the same way: a blinding crimson light, swallowing the bases whole.
He betrayed no reaction, handing the device back. "How long until launch?"
"Five minutes."
"Then launch."
"Yes, sir."
The command went out.
The Triskelion's great fountain split apart. From beneath, the first of three massive Helicarriers rose, engines roaring.
Pierce lifted his phone again, dialing a number.
Ring, ring.
Back in New York, Gwen Stacy, half-asleep on the couch, noticed Hawk's phone buzzing on the charger. She frowned at the unknown number, then picked up.
"Hello…"
"Ho—"
Pierce froze at the sound of her voice. Then he smiled.
"Gwen Stacy?"
Disguised nearby as a councilor, Natasha Romanoff's eyes flicked toward him at the name.
Gwen frowned. "Yes, that's me. Who are you?"
"Alexander Pierce," he said smoothly. "I'm a friend of Hawk's. Has he returned yet?"
She blinked. "Hawk said he had a friend in Hydra—Anna. But he never mentioned you."
"Anna…" Pierce paused. "Yes. And she—"
Gwen cut in: "Hawk already went to Japan to find her. Tell me, Mr. Pierce—is Anna really there?"
Pierce was silent for a beat. Then: "There's been a misunderstanding. Miss Stacy, if you could just—"
"Not a chance!" Gwen snapped.
She was George Stacy's daughter—the most honest, unyielding cop in New York. Help Hydra? Over her dead body.
Pierce heard the refusal. He wasn't surprised.
His wrinkled face stretched into a smile.
"Then I'm sorry, Miss Stacy."
…
(End of Chapter)
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