Power Struggle

Kansas, in a small town.

Lead-gray clouds hung heavily over the town, and the dry, desolate atmosphere made people feel low for no reason. The sky looked as though rain could fall at any second. Pedestrians hurried along, and no one wanted to stay out on the streets in weather like this.

Chris Bruno had the driver park the black van beside a bar in town. He climbed out with several towering, muscular men and strode toward the entrance. Ignoring the "Resting" sign hanging on the door, he pulled it open and walked inside.

After passing through a dimly lit stairway, Chris entered the bar's front hall. A group had already gathered around a round table in the booth area, with brawny men standing straight behind them. They all rose when they saw Chris enter, and one enthusiastic bearded man even let out a whistle.

"Ha, you really came. I was just telling them that even if everyone else skipped it, you definitely wouldn't."

The bearded man warmly stepped forward and extended his hand. Chris gave it a perfunctory shake, his cold gaze sweeping over every face around the table. His expression was far from pleasant.

"Is this everyone?" he asked.

"We're lucky to have this many." A man lounging on the sofa spoke up. He wore a leather jacket, with a glittering ornament hanging from his ear. "Baron Strucker's death tore the entire branch apart. A lot of people have started making their own calculations. They no longer want to cooperate with anyone. They want to strike out on their own."

"Idiots!" the bearded man snapped. "Hydra is facing an unprecedented crisis. Although S.H.I.E.L.D. has also been ordered to disband, they won't let us go just like that. Only by standing united and consolidating our strength will we have a chance to survive."

"Well said." Chris sat down on an empty stool by the table as well, while his burly followers stood behind him with their hands clasped in front of them. He opened a bottle of whiskey, poured himself a glass, and took an unhurried sip before speaking. "Strucker has gone to meet our founders. But his will should be inherited by us."

He paused, swirled his glass, and continued, "But it is also true that we have lost our Leader. We need to work together, but in this leaderless state, we can accomplish nothing."

"That was exactly what we were discussing before you came in," said the bearded man. "Among the branch under the Baron's command, only a handful of high-ranking leaders remain. We should combine the forces at their disposal, then choose a unified leader."

"Let me guess." Chris sneered. "You think that person should be you?"

The bearded man fell silent. He met Chris's gaze for a moment, then smiled confidently. "Actually, I hadn't gotten to that part before you entered. But yes, I believe I have enough ability and passion to carry on the great men's unfinished work."

"You? An office lackey?" Chris mocked.

The bearded man's face changed.

"So you're saying you think you're more qualified than me?"

"I'm saying that no matter what, the Leader's seat should never go to someone like you, who has spent his entire life without even taking a bullet for Hydra," Chris said coldly. "I have personally fought on the front lines, received Baron Strucker's personal commendation, and even had the honor of taking a bullet for him with my own body. So yes, if there is anyone here who can inherit the Baron's cause, I believe that person should be me."

"You have indeed rendered great service to Hydra, Chris. No one can deny that." The bearded man's smile vanished as he shot back sharply. "But that only proves you are a brave fighter. It does not make you an excellent leader. Managing an organization requires experience and ability, not cold steel and guns."

"But first, you can try taking that position from men with guns."

Chris spoke without changing expression. The muscular thugs behind him understood at once and stepped forward, deliberately or otherwise revealing the outlines of holsters beneath their shirts. The guards behind the bearded man refused to be outdone, stepping forward in tacit coordination. Their gazes collided, and killing intent seemed to fill the air with the sharp scent of gunpowder.

Almost everyone held their breath. The murderous aura produced by the standoff was suffocating, and no one present dared so much as breathe loudly—except for the man in the black leather jacket with the shining earring.

"Calm down, calm down." He lounged lazily against the back of the sofa, casually swirling a wineglass. "You old guys ought to settle down. Watch out for high blood pressure or something. You're all impressive people, really, big shots. But if you ask me, times are changing, and Hydra has to change too. Maybe we should consider bringing in some fresh blood—someone younger, someone more passionate—to lead whoever remains."

The eyes of both sides in the standoff turned toward him at once.

After a strange moment of silence, the bearded man was the first to burst out laughing as though he could not hold it in any longer.

"You?" he said coldly. "Your seniority is beneath ours, your experience is beneath ours, and your ability is beneath ours. What makes you think you're qualified?"

The man in the leather jacket smiled faintly. A large group of men in black waiting behind him stepped forward in unison.

"Because I have more men and more guns. Probably more than the two of you put together." He took a sip of whiskey. "I don't think you considered that part."

The situation shifted from a two-sided standoff into a three-way confrontation. The smell of gunpowder in the bar grew ever thicker, as though a single spark could blow the entire place into the sky.

Yet none of them got the chance to make the first move. The roof exploded open with a deafening roar, and a steel figure descended through the breach amid flames, kicking up dust that swept through the entire bar.

Michael made a grand entrance by blasting through the ceiling. When he raised his head, Sherry had already intelligently marked the leaders of the three opposing sides on his display with prominent targeting frames.

Without a word, Michael activated his back thruster and shot into the enemy ranks. Before anyone could react, he raised a hand and fired a pulse cannon, blowing apart the arrogant leather-jacketed man's head. Then he launched a kick into the bearded man's stomach. The force of more than ten tons sent the bearded man crashing through a wall and flying out of the bar. He was clearly not going to survive.

Bruno might truly have been an exceptional fighter in the past. He was the first person in the room to realize what had happened. He sprang up, moved diagonally two steps, drew his gun, and fired at the attacker's knees, neck, shoulder joints, and other armor connections that might have been relatively vulnerable. His response was swift and flawless.

Unfortunately, that did not seem to make him any different from the previous two. Michael flipped his palm and fired again. With the system's assisted targeting, the pulse cannon blasted open Chris's chest without any flourish.

From the moment Michael blew open the ceiling to the fall of the three leaders, what seemed like a long sequence had taken only two seconds. The leaderless thugs all drew their guns and aimed them at the mysterious intruder, but no one fired.

"Now," Michael's mechanically processed voice rang out from the speakers, "is there anyone else here who wants to give orders?"

No one spoke.

"Good. Then from now on, I'll be giving the orders. Does anyone object?"

The crowd looked at one another for a moment. Then, with no one knowing who started it, they gradually lowered their guns, giving their answer through their actions.

Michael stepped forward and casually pointed at a stubbled man who looked to be around thirty.

"You."

The man pointed at himself blankly. "Me, sir?"

"Yes. What's your name?"

"...Rick, sir. Rick Belloc."

"Rick, from now on, all the subordinate organizations of those three men belong to you." Michael said calmly, "I need you to handle a few things for me."

"At your command, sir."

"I want you to spread the word as widely as possible. Find all the remaining forces and bring their teams under your command. It's fine to take a hard line—if necessary. I need every one of Strucker's remaining followers to receive the news within a week."

"Understood, sir." Rick patted his chest. "I guarantee the mission will be completed."

"Hydra needs more than reorganization. It needs a complete transformation." Michael's gaze slowly swept over everyone before him. "From this day onward, Hydra no longer exists. We will build something else upon its ruins. Something entirely different."