This Is What Professional Looks Like

When Chu Hang held the deep-blue Energy Block between two fingers like a street vendor peddling counterfeit watches on Wall Street and casually waved it before everyone, the air in Death Valley of the entire Alps seemed to be instantly sucked into a vacuum by an invisible hand.

Dead silence.

A silence smoother and more suffocating than Nick Fury's bald head.

Bucky, Dugan, Jones... these tough men of the Howling Commandos who could bathe in champagne amid gunfire felt that tonight's string of surreal events—stuff even Approaching Science could never film—had completely burned their cerebral cortices into charred circuit boards.

What even were values? Could they be eaten?

First, they discovered that the glacier waterfall that had hung there for thousands of years was fucking holographic projection—a door.

Fine. High tech. Hydra was awesome. They accepted it.

Now came the most outrageous part. Like some third-rate magician, he had pulled out a "key" that looked factory-original, genuine enough to guarantee tenfold compensation if fake, from his fourth-dimensional pocket!

What the fuck...

This was no longer war! At least war had some logic and tactics!

This was clearly a one-man god-tier show starring a man named Chu Hang, called "I Write My Own Script, You Just Shout Awesome." And they, these battle-hardened elite soldiers, were just background audience members below the stage, too dumbfounded even to send tips, capable only of staring with their mouths hanging open.

"No... no... impossible!"

Howard Stark's voice over the communicator was no longer merely trembling. It was like a late-stage Parkinson's syndrome patient riding a roller coaster, every syllable carrying the wail of a shattered worldview. His scientific worldview, built upon physical laws and mathematical formulas and once his greatest pride, had been smashed to pieces by one casual gesture from Chu Hang.

"That's Hydra's