Decisive Battle with Hydra

At his boss’s command, Sitwell hurriedly asked, "Just Fury? He trained many secret agents, including Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Coulson. If Fury dies, those people will definitely become a problem!"

Pierce glanced at him. "Agent Sitwell, you’ve been asking more and more questions lately."

Sitwell jolted in alarm.

It seemed… that was true?

As a veteran agent with little real ability who had climbed to his current position, Sitwell naturally knew which questions he should ask and when he was allowed to ask them.

He reflected on himself and realized that the recent chain of events had made him panic. He was no longer calm enough.

Especially after Whitehall’s downfall. The people from Whitehall’s faction had lost their leader, and many had begun turning to Pierce. That was why Sitwell had seen an opportunity—an opportunity to ease his boss’s burdens. He had wanted to perform well and climb even higher, perhaps even become a leader himself.

One of the leaders under his boss.

Now, though, it seemed he had been too impatient.

"Minister, I’ll make the arrangements right away." Sitwell hurried out and shut the door behind him.

After confirming Sitwell had left, Pierce twirled his pen and dialed a number. "Garrett, how much control do we have over the San Juan military?"

A steady voice answered, "Fury still thinks Anton’s replacement is one of his men, but it’s actually one of ours! The San Juan military is ours now. However, the newly built air force base is difficult to infiltrate. The commander, ‘Commodore Talbot,’ is General Ross’s man. He’s always disliked S.H.I.E.L.D., so it’s hard for our people to get in."

"Thunderbolt Ross is harder to deal with than Fury. Ignore him for now."

Pierce asked, "Has the missile system inspection been completed?"

"It has." Garrett’s tone was strange. "There were no malfunctions."

No malfunctions?

Pierce froze.

If there had been no malfunction, what had happened to that missile that day?

Forget it. This was not the time to think about that.

Pierce said darkly, "Launch the missiles immediately. Bomb Azeroth Laboratory."

"It’ll take time to arrange, three hours at most. How many should we launch?" Garrett asked.

"All of them." After a few seconds of thought, Pierce added, "Send someone to Azeroth Specialties Shop. That man called Robbie is very likely Ghost Rider."

"Ghost Rider won’t be easy to handle," Garrett said.

"But his younger brother is."

A cold smile appeared on Pierce’s lips. "Control his brother, and you control Ghost Rider!"

After a brief silence, Garrett said, "I’ll handle this personally."

Pierce’s expression darkened after hanging up.

Hydra was no longer the Hydra it had once been. In truth, it was a loose alliance made up of ambitious people. Sitwell was not the only one with his own plans. Garrett did too.

He was dying and wanted to prolong his life. Ghost Rider’s immortal body was highly tempting to him.

It did not matter.

No matter how powerful Ghost Rider was, Pierce did not care.

Compared to myths and magic, he valued technology more—and trusted it more.

With that thought, Pierce dialed another number. "Where is Tony Stark now?"

"Los Angeles, the villa in City of Freedom," came a deep, magnetic voice.

"Act immediately."

Pierce ordered, "Capture him. Control him. I want those Iron Man armors in front of me within ten hours."

"You will have them. Hail Hydra."

"Hail Hydra."

Having done all this, Pierce finally let out a breath.

No matter how powerful Immortal Iron Fist was, he could not withstand carpet bombing, especially not by highly destructive tactical missiles.

Ghost Rider was said to possess an immortal body and command Hellfire, but he had a fatal weakness: his younger brother Gabe, an ordinary high school student. Any agent could handle him.

Tony Stark had wiped out quite a few extremist bases recently and had been called Iron Man by many people. His armor was technologically advanced, and it had a miniaturized Arc Reactor as its energy source. Those were things they had to obtain.

Tony could not wear his Iron Man armor forever. As an ordinary human, he would be just as easy to control.

As for Black Widow, Hawkeye, Coulson, and the rest, they were all minor players, not worth mentioning.

I know all your trump cards. All your helpers are about to be finished. Fury, what do you have left to fight me with?

Pierce calmed himself. Victory was already in his grasp.

He had never considered Fury an opponent. That man, whom he had played like a fiddle, was no different from a circus monkey.

His true opponent was the entire world.

Every nation, politician, ambitious schemer, independent warlord—everything and everyone.

Pierce walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out at the beautiful world beyond.

This was a world jointly ruled by more than two hundred countries and over a thousand ethnic groups. The fragmentation of political power had brought countless problems, constraining technological development and human progress.

Terrorists acted every day. Crimes were committed every second. Earth had too many internal problems. Evil and infighting multiplied like cancer cells, constantly placing the fragile planet and human society in danger of destruction.

Not to mention the countless aliens, such as the Skrulls and Kree, who were far more powerful than humanity.

Either one could send out a negligible strike team and destroy all of human civilization.

If humanity wanted to stand among the races of the universe, it had to unite and direct its strength toward one goal. Only then could technological progress accelerate and a stronger, better society be built.

That required a centralized regime powerful enough to rule, and a ruler strong and wise enough to lead it.

Hydra was exactly that kind of organization.

And I, Pierce, was exactly that kind of man.

"May the world become a better place."

Pierce took out a bottle of rum that had been cellared for more than two hundred years and poured himself a glass.

He had never believed he was doing anything that harmed humanity.

Everything he did was to make the human world better.

This was his Hydra.

Whitehall might have been Red Skull’s colleague, but he cared only about those meaningless myths and legends. Though he had lived for so long, he had only become more backward with age.

I, Pierce, am the true heir to Hydra’s ideals.

Hydra’s true ruler.

He raised his glass and drained it.

"Hail Hydra!"

Ever since Egghead had learned that S.H.I.E.L.D. was actually a Hydra branch, he had begun paying close attention to his own safety.

The king of agents was naturally far more cunning than anyone else. Yet whenever he thought about how he had played the lone hero, infiltrating Hydra alone for so many years without even knowing it, and had even successfully cultivated a large group of loyal subordinates, he felt both horrified, excited, and proud. He ate two extra tea eggs for breakfast.

Over the past month, Egghead had rarely gone out. At all times, he kept himself under the protection of secret agents, and he had even specially upgraded his vehicle with more than a dozen new functions.

But he knew very well that no number of functions could stop Hydra’s killing intent. What was coming would come.

He just did not know which day it would be.

Hopefully, everything would be in time.

The modified Chevrolet Suburban sped through the downtown streets. Its black body was sleek and glossy, understated yet luxurious, just like its owner.

Suddenly, Fury sensed that something was wrong.

Traffic in Washington D.C. was usually fine, yet there was a jam today.

He casually observed his surroundings and noticed that some people seemed off.

The fat middle-aged cop in the front passenger seat of the police car to the left had looked in Fury’s direction for nearly five seconds, then hurriedly looked away. He seemed nervous.

The man and woman in the private car to the right were kissing passionately in broad daylight, but they were clearly inexperienced, their movements stiff. They were in the posture for a French kiss, so why were they not using their tongues?

And even at a time like this, why were their hands being so well-behaved? Why were they not touching where they should be touching?

Fifty meters away, several people who looked perfectly ordinary sat in a coffee shop, with boxes and bags beside them that bulged strangely.

Most importantly, he had seen one of them before—in Whitehall’s memories.

He was Hydra!

Egghead suddenly felt fortunate.

Thankfully, Master Wang had obtained Whitehall’s memories and investigated every Hydra mole from those memories, following the trail to uncover even more intelligence. Otherwise, he might not have realized even now that he was being watched.

That he had been placed on a death list.

"Pierce finally can’t wait any longer. Is he making his move?"

"Though the preparations aren’t complete, there’s no helping it!"

Egghead silently sighed and said in a deep voice, "Activate the encrypted communications protocol. Connect to secure line 404."

"Confirmed." A pleasant male voice replied. It was the vehicle’s built-in AI. Though it could not compare to Tony’s J.A.R.V.I.S., it was still decent.

A tiny screen appeared in the upper-left corner of the windshield, displaying a curvy female agent.

It was Black Widow.

"This is Romanoff." Black Widow’s expression turned serious.

As a legendary agent, she had three communication lines with the director.

One was an ordinary line, no different from those used by other agents.

One was a dedicated line that only the director could use to contact her, reserved for certain special missions, such as investigating Master Wang.

The last was a newly established secure line, the highest level of all. To reduce the risk of exposure, it was never used in normal circumstances. Once it was activated, it meant the most critical moment had arrived—a matter of life and death.

"I need you to activate Operation Snake Hunt immediately. We are now in Deep Shadow status," Egghead said.

Operation Snake Hunt?

Deep Shadow status?

Were they going to fight Hydra to the death?

So suddenly?

Black Widow understood what those words meant. After two seconds of silence, she said, "Sir, be careful."

"No one can kill me."

Egghead hung up and said, "Initiate vertical takeoff."

The moment he spoke, the entire vehicle began to rise.

This was antigravity technology that had been under development since World War II and had only officially entered service a few years ago. Combined with a dedicated high-power engine and jet engines, it allowed the vehicle to fly at an incredible speed of five hundred kilometers per hour.

In terms of maneuverability alone, it even surpassed a helicopter.

However, before it could fully lift off, a car suddenly slammed into its side.

After a violent jolt, the AI spoke:

"Left arm fracture detected."

"Internal bleeding detected."

"Injection of anesthetic recommended."

"Consumption of Azeroth Essence liquor recommended."

Egghead hurriedly endured the pain as he found an anesthetic and injected himself. Then he pulled a small bottle of liquor from his pocket and shouted, "Keep flying! Go to Feuerstein Base… no, go to Azeroth Specialties Shop!"

AI: "Flight system damaged."

#￥…￥%&… Egghead grunted. "Contact Agent Coulson… no, contact Immortal Iron Fist!"

AI: "Communications system damaged."

Egghead opened his mouth. The pain had weakened considerably, and the special ingredients in the Azeroth Essence liquor refreshed his spirit, cleared his mind, and sharpened his senses. Master Wang is still the reliable one.

This damned wreck of a car is completely unreliable!

He gritted his teeth and shouted, "Then turn on the air conditioning and let me cool down!"

AI: "Air conditioning system damaged."

Egghead suddenly wanted to smash this lousy car. His rage meter was full, and the knuckles gripping the steering wheel turned dark. "Is there anything that isn’t damaged?"

AI: "Your mobile phone and communicator have not yet been damaged."

Watching the integrity of the vehicle’s body and windows continuously decline, listening to bullets strike the chassis, and seeing more and more Hydra members gathering around, Egghead felt like a girl surrounded by a crowd of burly men. A sense of helplessness surged through him.

At least I still have you.

Taking a deep breath, he took out the one-of-a-kind communicator on Earth, sighed, and put it away.

Then he took out his phone and pressed speed dial.

A green fist appeared on the screen.

Azeroth Laboratory.

Looking at Egghead on the phone screen, Old Wang sighed.

Egghead, why don’t you just step down and let me be director? You come looking for me every other day.

Though annoyed, he still had to answer the call.

Egghead was still quite reliable. Whenever he came looking for him, something bad had definitely happened—either someone had died or there was trouble. Like the last time, when Egghead went to see Tony and came back empty-handed, then immediately called to ask whether Old Wang had said something to Tony.

What the hell does that have to do with me!

Tony did not even give the Department of Defense any respect. Could Egghead’s face possibly be worth more than the Minister of Defense’s?

"Keep looking. You must find the people I mentioned. Melinda’s ex-husband, Andrew Garner, Elena Rodriguez, James, Joey… They’re all descendants of Inhumans. They’ll all be yours in the future."

Old Wang rubbed Skye’s shoulder before answering the call.

A violent explosion pierced his ears.

Then came a barrage of gunfire, accompanied by the AI’s report: "Window integrity at 20%. Responsive measures recommended."

"Don’t execute them yet!"

Egghead shouted, "Master Wang! Save me!"

You’re a director. Aren’t you embarrassed to shout like that…? Realizing the situation was urgent, Old Wang hurriedly asked, "Where are you? Forget it, don’t tell me. I wouldn’t know anyway. Send me your location!"

Boom!

AI: "Window integrity 1%. Recommend taking countermeasures!"

"Washington D.C.!"

Egghead shouted, "Now!"

Rat-a-tat-tat!

A burst of machine-gun fire rang out. Egghead was returning fire.

He seemed to be saying something, but it was too loud to make out.

"I’ll be there soon… urgh."

Before he could finish, the line cut off.

Had even his phone been shot to pieces?

Old Wang raised his hand and drew a circle.

Washington D.C. was not large—far smaller than New York. He could just teleport directly to the city center.

His physical body was much stronger now, allowing him to use more mental power. He could barely cover all of Washington D.C.; if he found Egghead and opened a second portal, he should make it in time.

He was just about to leave.

Then he suddenly sensed danger and looked up.

Far in the distance, five missiles tore through the air toward him.

Again?

They came right when Egghead was under attack. This was calculated, wasn’t it? They don’t want me to support Egghead, and they don’t want Egghead or me to notify the others?

If that’s the case, they’re probably making moves elsewhere too.

The final battle has begun!

During this time, Old Wang had Tony prepare some information for him, and he had crammed up on modern weapons. Based on their size and shape, he quickly identified the missiles.

They were exactly the same model as the one that had exploded in San Juan last time.

"Egghead, pray for yourself. If you die, I’ll support Coulson as your successor, or… let Skye take your place?"

Old Wang narrowed his eyes and said coldly, "Little Red, it’s your turn!"

I’m back. Time to write. I’ll make up yesterday’s update tomorrow.