Power Struggle

Kansas, a small town.

Lifeless lead-gray clouds blanketed the town, a dreary, desolate air that inexplicably dampened spirits. The sky looked like it could rain at any moment, and pedestrians hurried along, no one wanting to linger on the streets in this weather.

Chris Bruno had the driver park the black van by a bar on the town's main street. He hopped out with a few burly muscle-bound men and strode briskly to the bar's entrance. Ignoring the "Closed for Rest" sign hanging on the door, he pulled it open and walked in.

After passing through a dimly lit stairwell, Chris entered the bar's front hall. A group was already seated around a round table in the booth area, with sturdy men standing upright behind them. They all rose when they saw Chris enter, and a bearded man enthusiastically let out a whistle.

"Ha, I knew you'd come. I just told them that even if no one else showed up, you'd never miss it."

The bearded man stepped forward warmly, extending his hand. Chris gave it a perfunctory shake, his cold gaze sweeping across every face at the table, his expression sour.

"Is this all there is?" he asked.

"Having this many is already lucky," said a man lounging on a sofa. He wore a leather jacket and had a shiny earring dangling from his ear. "Baron Strucker's death has torn the whole division apart. A lot of people are playing their own games now, unwilling to cooperate. They want to go it alone."

"Foolish!" the bearded man snapped. "Hydra has never faced a crisis like this before. Even though S.H.I.E.L.D. has been ordered to disband, they won't let us off the hook. Only by uniting and consolidating our strength can we have a chance to survive."

"Well said." Chris also took a seat on an empty stool at the table, his burly henchmen standing behind him with their arms crossed. He opened a bottle of whiskey, poured himself a glass, took a slow sip, and then said, "Strucker has gone to meet our founders. But their will—it's up to us to carry on."

He paused, swirled the glass, and added, "But we've lost the Leader, and that's a fact. We need to work together, but without a head, this state of chaos won't get us anywhere."

"That's exactly what we were discussing before you came in," the bearded man said. "Now that the highest-ranking leaders left in the Baron's division are only a handful, we should combine the power of those people and elect a unified leader."

"Let me guess," Chris sneered, "you think that should be you?"

The bearded man fell silent. He locked eyes with Chris for a moment, then smiled confidently. "Actually, I hadn't gotten to that part before you walked in. But yes, I believe I have the ability and the passion to carry on the unfinished work of the greats."

"You? A desk-jockey lackey?" Chris scoffed.

The bearded man's expression darkened.

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

"I'm saying that the position of Leader should never go to someone like you, who's never even taken a bullet for Hydra in his life," Chris said coldly. "I, on the other hand, have been on the front lines, received personal commendations from Baron Strucker, and even had the honor of taking a bullet for him with my own body. So yes, if anyone here is fit to carry on the Baron's legacy, I believe it should be me."

"You've made great contributions to Hydra, Chris—no one denies that," the bearded man replied, dropping his smile and meeting him head-on. "But what you've said only proves you're a brave warrior, not a good leader. Running an organization requires experience and skill, not cold steel and guns."

"Then try taking this seat from the cold steel and guns first."

Chris said it without changing his expression, and the muscle-bound thugs behind him stepped forward in unison, subtly revealing the outlines of holsters under their jackets. The guards behind the bearded man matched them, stepping forward in silent solidarity. Their eyes met, and the killing intent seemed to spark a thick smell of gunpowder in the air.

Almost everyone held their breath. The murderous pressure from the two sides clashing was suffocating, and no one in the room dared to make a sound—except for the man with the shiny earring and black leather jacket.

"Easy, easy," he said, leaning lazily against the sofa back, casually swirling his glass. "You old-timers, take it easy—watch your blood pressure or something. You're all impressive guys, really, big shots. But if you ask me, times are changing, and Hydra has to change too. Maybe we should consider some fresh blood, someone younger and more passionate to lead the rest."

The gazes of both sides in the standoff landed on him.

After a strange moment of silence, the bearded man couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"You?" he said coldly. "You've got less seniority than us, less experience than us, less skill than us. What makes you think you're qualified?"

The man in the leather jacket smiled faintly, and the rows of black-clad men waiting behind him stepped forward in unison.

"Because I've got more men and more guns. More than both of you combined, I'd wager." He took a sip of whiskey and said, "I don't think you guys considered that part."

The standoff shifted from two sides to three. The smell of gunpowder in the bar grew even thicker, as if just a single spark would blow the whole place sky-high.

But 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 on a trail of flames, sending dust billowing through the entire bar.

Michael made his grand entrance by blasting through the ceiling. As he straightened up, Sherry had already smartly marked the leaders of the three opposing factions on the display with prominent targeting brackets.

Without a word, Michael activated his back thrusters and launched himself into the enemy formation. Before anyone could react, he raised his hand and fired a pulse cannon blast, blowing off the head of the cocky man in the leather jacket on the sofa. Then he spun and kicked the bearded man square in the gut. With over ten tons of leg force behind it, the kick sent the bearded man crashing through a wall and flying out of the bar, clearly dead on arrival.

This Bruno guy might have actually been a pretty good warrior—he was the first on the scene to realize what was happening. He leaped up, sidestepped, and drew his gun, firing at the attacker's knees, neck, shoulder joints, and other weak points in the armor where the plates met. His response was swift and flawless.

Too bad it didn't make much difference from the other two. Michael flipped his palm and fired another shot. The system-assisted pulse cannon blast tore through Chris's chest without any fancy tricks.

From the moment Michael blew open the roof to the fall of the three leaders, the whole thing felt long but actually took only two seconds. The leaderless thugs now all had their guns trained on the mysterious intruder, but no one fired.

"Now," Michael's mechanically processed voice rang out clearly from the speakers, "does anyone else here want to give orders?"

No one spoke.

"Good. Then from now on, I'll be the one giving orders. Any objections?"

The group exchanged glances, then, as if following someone's lead, they gradually lowered their guns, answering with their actions.

Michael walked over and casually pointed at a guy with stubble, who looked about thirty.

"You."

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

"Yeah. What's your name?"

"Rick, sir. Rick Belloc."

"Rick, starting now, all the subordinates of those three are under your command." Michael said flatly. "I need you to handle a few things for me."

"At your command, sir."

"I want you to spread the word as far as possible. Find all the remaining factions and absorb their forces. Be tough if you have to—if necessary. I need every last remnant of Strucker's faction to get the message within a week."

"Understood, sir." Rick thumped his chest. "Consider it done."

"Hydra doesn't just need a reorganization—it needs a complete overhaul." Michael's gaze slowly swept across everyone in front of him. "From now on, Hydra no longer exists. We're going to build something else on its ruins. Something completely different."