"There's been absolutely no unusual activity on Justin Hammer's end, whether in terms of personnel contacts or financial transactions. Blake, your suspicions were correct—this has nothing to do with Hammer."
"Good! I understand. It looks like we don't need to keep an eye on Justin Hammer anymore."
"The agents in France are fully mobilized. If they try to leave France, we'll know immediately. The enemy we're dealing with this time is very professional and ruthless. Be careful!"
"You too. Finish your mission quickly and come back. See you in New York!"
"See you in New York!"
Blake ended his call with Black Widow. The scale of the disturbance was so large that both he and Tony had speculated that Justin Hammer wasn't behind it, but Blake had still asked Black Widow to check. As expected, everything was normal on Hammer's side.
Who could it be?
Blake frowned deeply.
Just then, a knock on the door broke his thoughts. Blake got up to open it.
Tony walked in casually, pouring himself a large glass of water and downing it in one gulp. Only after exhaling did he finally speak.
"A cop woke up. He said there were five intruders—three white man, one woman and one black man. They were incredibly fast, with unbelievable strength. The cop fired four shots and didn't hit any of them."
"From his description, it sounds like they were facing someone like you! Five super soldiers, Blake. Do you remember what happened in Mexico? That guy with the metal arm? I suspect they're all part of the same group—a powerful hidden organization. They've got drug dealers, super soldiers, and maybe even a team of brilliant scientists."
When Tony first mentioned the five people, Blake already felt a sense of familiarity. Now, with the mention of Bucky, the image in Blake's mind became clear.
Five super soldiers, Hydra, that Siberian base.
They've activated the five super soldiers from Siberia but haven't sent Bucky. Could it be that Alexander Pierce isn't behind this?
Just like the name suggests, Hydra is an organization with many branches.
Alexander Pierce, the former director of S.H.I.E.L.D., was just one of its leaders.
Blake remembered that Baron Strucker, who used the Mind Stone to create Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver, had been active in Europe for a long time. Could it be him?
Blake's mind was in a fog. Even with his current strength, he felt powerless in such a situation.
Even though watching the movies gave him insight into many plotlines, he had no idea where Hydra's hidden bases were.
Let alone how to find them.
...
Washington, World Security Council.
Alexander Pierce's office.
"Francis, that son of a b****! Who gave him permission to activate the Siberian base on his own? That was one of our trump cards! Damn fool! Now S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are swarming all over Europe—he's going to get us all killed. You better watch out too, Strucker!"
Alexander Pierce was unusually furious, completely unlike his usual calm and composed demeanor.
"Don't worry, my old friend. You're the head of the World Security Council. Most of the agents in S.H.I.E.L.D. are your people. What do I have to be afraid of?"
Baron Strucker's voice was incredibly calm.
In fact, it made sense. With most of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents under their control, and with no Avengers-like organization yet in place to challenge them, Hydra had no real enemies at this point.
"You think Nick Fury is an idiot? I know him—he's not so easy to fool. I have no idea what kind of trump card he might still be holding. Last time, we agreed that Project Insight was our top priority. If we get exposed now, the entire world will come after us."
"If it comes to that, I'll just sit back and quietly serve as chairman, waiting for the next opportunity. Do you understand? We've waited so many years for this chance to realize our vision, and we can't afford to blow it now!"
Pierce's desk-pounding and logic seemed to sway Baron Strucker, whose tone became more serious and less dismissive.
"I understand how serious this is. The arc reactor, to be honest, is very tempting—I was tempted myself—but now isn't the time. I'll order all my men to go underground and avoid S.H.I.E.L.D., and I'll do everything I can to find that fool Francis and end this mess to ensure our safety."
Strucker's assurance calmed Alexander Pierce. He took a deep breath and said, "If he's exposed, I'll eliminate him immediately. For the safety of all of us, for the glory of Hydra. Hail Hydra!"
"Hail Hydra!"
...
New York, at a golf course.
Justin Hammer stood on the green, angrily swinging his club.
The fact that Ivan Vanko had slipped through his fingers was incredibly frustrating.
He had already greased the palms of officials at both the police station and the prison, spending a considerable amount of favors and money.
The plan was to extract Vanko as soon as he was incarcerated, only for it all to end up as a complete waste.
"Relax, Justin. Golf is a gentleman's game. You can't just imagine Tony Stark's head every time you swing. Sometimes, using too much force won't get you anywhere."
A middle-aged man approached Justin Hammer slowly.
"Senator Stern, I recall that just a week ago, you were gritting your teeth, demanding I speed up the development of the suits. How come you're so calm now?"
Justin Hammer was in such a foul mood that he didn't even bother being polite to the senator, with whom he had collaborated many times.
"Well, I've been in the Senate long enough to learn a few things. The world now thrives on cooperation and mutual benefit. Take you and me, for example. The suit project is no different. Anger won't solve anything. Let me introduce you to a friend of mine—Mr. Francis Aubrey."
Senator Stern stepped aside, revealing the man standing behind him.
He was a middle-aged man, around fifty, impeccably groomed with his hair perfectly styled.
"Francis is one of the purest-blooded aristocrats in Europe. He wields unimaginable influence across Europe—stocks, political elections, large-scale energy projects. Whatever you need, he can handle it. That includes extracting a Siberian genius from Monaco."
Senator Stern grinned, revealing a set of yellowed teeth.
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