"Sitwell," Alexander Pierce said calmly, eyes fixed on the wall of monitors. "Have you found them yet?"
Washington, D.C. The Triskelion.
Pierce leaned back in his chair, every inch the statesman. Forr Director of SHIELD. Current mber of the World Security Council. And, quietly, the architect behind Hydra’s rise from inside the world’s most powerful intelligence agency.
Years ago, he had chosen Nick Fury for a reason. Fury had vision. Ambition. The ability to elevate SHIELD beyond a national agency into a global authority. Under Fury’s leadership, borders dissolved, oversight vanished, and surveillance beca universal.
And where SHIELD saw everything, Hydra saw everything.
Technology, intelligence, resources. SHIELD gathered them openly. Hydra siphoned them silently. The balance of power had never been equal. It had only appeared that way.
Pierce’s original plan had been elegant. Let Fury build the machine. Let him believe he was in control. Then guide him, gently, into activating Project Insight and handing the world over without ever realizing it.
But Fury had grown suspicious. Worse, he had begun digging.
That forced Pierce’s hand.
Fortunately, Hydra’s roots ran deep. Deep enough that Fury couldn’t expose him through official channels. The fight beca one of shadows. And despite Fury’s brilliance, he was outnumbered.
Today, that ga ended.
SHIELD was broken. Its remaining agents were scattered remnants. No longer a threat.
The only lingering concern was Fury’s source. The telepath. The school. The one enemy Pierce genuinely respected.
"Nothing," Sitwell replied. "We’ve swept the entire area. No trace at all."
Pierce smiled thinly. "Then they really are impressive."
He leaned forward. "Begin saturation bombardnt. Level the entire zone. I don’t care if we hit empty ground. If they’re there, they’ll surface."
The carriers were nearly ready. There was no need for subtlety anymore. A public display of force would serve as a fitting prelude to the new order.
And Pierce knew his enemy. If civilians were threatened, they would act. They always did.
"Garrett and Ward?" Sitwell asked hesitantly.
Pierce raised an eyebrow. "They’ll be rembered as heroes of Hydra. Sacrifice is an honor."
Sitwell nodded sharply. "Hail Hydra."
Before Pierce could respond, a new feed appeared on the screen. A massive figure in tactical gear filled the fra and snapped to attention.
"Sitwell," Crossbones said. "The weather’s wrong."
"Wrong how?" Sitwell frowned. "Weather doesn’t affect the operation."
Crossbones tapped a control. The roof of the command vehicle slid open, revealing the sky above.
Black clouds churned unnaturally low. Lightning writhed inside them, branching and folding over itself without thunder or rain. The air felt heavy, charged, hostile.
"This isn’t natural," Crossbones said. "Storms don’t behave like this."
Sitwell swallowed. He rembered the files. An Oga-level weather manipulator. Storm. But even those reports had limits.
"Proceed with the attack," he ordered sharply. "Now!"
Helicopters angled their cannons downward. Tanks rotated their turrets. The bombardnt command propagated through every unit.
They never fired a shot.
The sky broke first.
Lightning fell not in scattered strikes, but in deliberate, concentrated blows. Bolts slamd into helicopters midair, tearing them apart in white-hot explosions. Tanks vanished under pillars of light, their armor folding like paper.
The command vehicle took a direct hit.
Inside the academy, silence ruled as everyone watched the screens.
Lightning poured down like rain.
"This feels like the end of the world," Coulson murmured.
It looked like divine punishnt. Like sothing ancient had looked down and decided humanity needed correcting.
Thor stared, awestruck. "Rowan... you look more like the God of Thunder than I do."
Rowan didn’t look back. His wand moved with calm precision, guiding the storm as if it had always belonged to him.
Logan clapped Thor on the shoulder, grinning. "Face it, Point Break. You’re more of a hamr guy."
Thor snorted despite himself.
Outside, Hydra burned.
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