Lynn's fingertip left the Enter key, and the progress bar on the tactical terminal's screen vanished completely.
The fragment of Project Insight he had carefully trimmed down, retaining only the core purge list and Hydra's underlying algorithms, had become a string of untraceable code and landed squarely in Steve Rogers's encrypted inbox.
With that done, Lynn leaned back in his chair.
The air was thick with ozone, mingled with Wanda's distinctive rose scent. The smell was intensely invasive, shooting straight through his nose into his brain.
Wanda pressed against him from behind. Barefoot, she wound her arms tightly around Lynn's neck like soft but deadly vines. Her scorching body heat passed through his thin shirt, and Lynn could clearly feel the heart in her chest beating at a furious pace.
"They're afraid."
Wanda rested her chin on Lynn's shoulder, her eyes half closed and her lips curling into a sickly smile.
Her voice was very soft, yet carried a chilling delight.
As her words fell, Lynn clearly detected through his Spider-Sense that the crimson particles seeping underground through the cracks in the floor had already crossed dozens of kilometers like a virus.
Washington, D.C., the Triskelion.
Inside the heavy-duty hangar on the fifth basement level, Crossbones, Rumlow, was chewing an unlit cigar as he looked down and loaded armor-piercing rounds into his Glock.
Amid the crisp clicks of brass casings sliding into the magazine, his hands suddenly stopped.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end without warning. Rumlow whipped around, his sharp gaze sweeping the empty corridor. There was nothing but the dull hum of ventilation fans.
But he failed to see that, in the shadow of his combat boots, a wisp of crimson energy a hundred times finer than a strand of hair was silently climbing his trouser leg before finally disappearing into his spine.
At the same time, in the Director's Office on the top floor.
Alexander Pierce picked up the bone china coffee cup on his desk. Just as he brought it to his lips, an extremely faint jolt of static suddenly shot through his fingertips.
Crack.
A crack appeared in the cup without warning. Scalding black coffee dripped onto the expensive Persian carpet, spreading into a dark stain. Pierce frowned and tugged irritably at his tie, feeling as though he could not quite breathe, as if an invisible hand were loosely closing around his throat.
Throughout the entire Triskelion, from the security guards in the underground garage to the Hydra agents in the central control room.
Two thousand four hundred and seventy-one heartbeats.
Two thousand four hundred and seventy-one breaths.
At that moment, all of them were tightly entwined in dense crimson threads.
"Found them..."
Inside the safe house, Wanda's eyes snapped open. Her once-clear green eyes were now stained blood-red by roiling chaos energy.
She panted excitedly, slowly curling her fingers in the air as though toying with a work of art that could be crushed with ease.
"Lynn, I can hear their blood flowing." Wanda tilted her head, her hot breath brushing Lynn's cheek, her tone filled with a sickly desire for praise and obsessive fixation. "That old man named Pierce, and that scar-faced man who pointed a gun at you... just nod, and give me three seconds."
She raised three fingers, destructive red light dancing at their tips.
"Three seconds, and I'll squeeze every bug in that building who bears you ill will into a puddle of pulp, bones and all."
Wanda's killing intent was already nearing its breaking point. The horrific sight of countless bullets piercing Lynn's heart in the simulated memories tormented her sanity every moment. Those Hydra members who wanted to eliminate Lynn as a "rogue ninja" and use her as a "vessel" did not deserve to live in this world.
Whoever dared tear them apart had to die.
Looking at the terrifying energy at her fingertips, enough to instantly flatten half of Washington, D.C., Lynn felt a faint sheen of cold sweat on his back.
A covert death trap backed by Skyfather-level power simply defied all reason. The defense systems Hydra took such pride in were flimsier than paper before Chaos Magic.
But he could not let Wanda act now.
If the Triskelion exploded now, Pierce would die suddenly and Project Insight would fall through. Although Hydra within S.H.I.E.L.D. would suffer a devastating blow, Nick Fury and Captain America would never see just how rotten that enormous organization had become.
Most importantly, once Wanda displayed this capacity for indiscriminate slaughter, she would immediately become the number one enemy of the entire world, including the Avengers.
Lynn wanted to move the pieces behind the scenes, not take a rampaging, obsessively lovesick woman along to fight the entire Marvel Universe.
"Stop, Wanda."
Lynn turned around and reached back to grasp her wrist where it hung in the air.
His grip was not strong, but it carried unquestionable resolve. The instant Chaos Magic touched Lynn's skin, it was like ice and snow meeting fire, automatically retracting its savage barbs and winding obediently between his fingers.
The excitement on Wanda's face froze instantly.
"Why?" She bit her lower lip, extreme irritation and hurt flashing in her eyes. "They want to kill you! They treat you like a pawn they can discard at any moment! I won't allow anyone to threaten your safety!"
"I know."
Lynn raised his hand, gently stroking her taut cheek with his thumb, and laid out the most devious scheme in the gentlest tone.
"But killing is the lowest form of revenge."
Lynn looked straight into those crimson eyes, a hint of enticement in his voice. "What does Hydra care about most? Its order hidden in the shadows, its sense of control from playing the whole world in the palm of its hand. If we destroy the building now, we'll become terrorists out in the open."
He paused, bringing out a term that was a classic in the world of Hokage.
"When that happens, those self-proclaimed righteous 'kings,' like Captain America, will turn against you. Under the banner of protecting the world, they'll try to sever the bond between us."
At the words "sever the bond," Wanda's pupils suddenly contracted, and the red light at her fingertips flickered violently.
"They wouldn't dare!"
"Of course they would." Lynn drew her into his arms, resting his chin against her hair while his cold gaze remained fixed on the night outside the window. "So we can't stick our necks out. I want Hydra to reveal its own trump cards and expose itself to the sunlight."
A cold smile curled Lynn's lips.
"I want the man with the shield to see with his own eyes how the organization he swore to defend to the death became a monster bristling with fangs. Let him shatter Hydra's dreams with his own hands. As for us..."
Lynn patted Wanda's back, his voice low and dangerous. "We only need to sit in the audience. Once they've torn into each other until both sides are badly wounded, we'll crush their last hope."
Wanda leaned against Lynn's chest, listening to his steady, powerful heartbeat.
She did not really understand those complicated political games, but she understood one thing: Lynn was protecting her, and Lynn was planning a future where they could stay together forever, undisturbed by anyone.
"I'll do whatever you say."
The crimson slowly faded from Wanda's eyes, restoring their clear green color. Like a cat whose fur had been stroked smooth, she nuzzled greedily into Lynn's arms.
"But..." Wanda suddenly lifted her head, an obsessive cunning in her eyes. "I won't remove the marks I left in their bones. If that old man named Pierce dares order an attack on you, his heart will burst instantly."
That was her final boundary.
Lynn smiled and did not refuse. "Whatever you like."
Keeping a Sword of Damocles hanging over Hydra's head was fine, too.
At the same time, in Washington, D.C., in a secret apartment not registered in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s systems.
Wearing a gray short-sleeved shirt soaked with sweat, Steve Rogers pushed open the apartment door. He had just finished a morning run of twenty laps around the Lincoln Memorial and had not even needed to catch his breath.
Walking to the refrigerator, Steve took out a bottle of cold water, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink. His gaze swept habitually toward the old military laptop on the table.
In the lower right corner of the screen, an email marked with the highest encryption level was flashing frantically.
The sender was unknown, and the subject contained only the words: [Sacred Avengers].
Steve paused. He set down the water bottle, walked to the table, and typed a long, complicated string of decryption characters.
The email opened.
There was no message, only a massive data attachment.
The instant Steve opened the attachment, blue holographic light illuminated his resolute face as it slowly stiffened.
It was a list.
A death list so long it made his scalp crawl.
Steve scrolled his mouse wheel, his gaze rapidly sweeping across the names.
Tony Stark.
Bruce Banner.
Stephen Strange.
Even... Steve Rogers.
And above those names was the unmistakable electronic signature of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s current highest authority-Alexander Pierce!
"Project Insight... Zola Algorithm..."
Steve murmured the cold logic of the code on the screen, veins bulging on the back of the hand gripping his mouse. His proud sense of justice and his last shred of trust in S.H.I.E.L.D. were collapsing before this irrefutable data.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had already been completely hollowed out by Hydra!
Just as Steve was about to contact Nick Fury immediately to verify the intelligence, his gaze suddenly locked onto a hidden attachment at the very bottom of the list.
The attachment's icon was a red five-pointed star, with a line of small text beneath it: [Winter Soldier: Top Secret Mission Log].
Steve's breath abruptly caught. With a trembling hand, he opened the attachment.
A blurry black-and-white photograph popped up.
In the photograph, a long-haired man with a metal left arm held a sniper rifle, lying in wait in the night.
At the sight of that face, so familiar it was etched into his bones, Steve Rogers shot to his feet, sending the chair behind him crashing to the floor.
"Bucky..."
Steve stared fixedly at the screen, his mind completely blank.
Just then.
Knock, knock, knock.
Someone suddenly knocked three times on the apartment's security door from outside, unhurriedly.
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