On the seventh basement level of the Triskelion, the shrill red alert nearly tore through everyone's eardrums.
On the main control screen, scarlet code streamed down like a frenzied waterfall. The progress bar representing Project Insight's core data was being forcibly rewritten by an overwhelmingly aggressive unknown program.
"Cut the main power! Disconnect it physically!" Pierce slapped the sweat-drenched technician aside and rushed to the console himself. Snatching up a fire axe, he smashed the glass cover and severed the thick fiber-optic cable with a vicious chop.
Sparks sprayed, and the entire floor plunged into darkness. Several seconds later, the pallid emergency lights finally flickered on.
Pierce threw aside the axe, its edge now curled, and panted heavily. His expensive silk tie had been tugged out of shape, and cold sweat covered his forehead. He stared fixedly at the now-black monitoring console. Lynn's final smile as he raised his glass in provocation through the screen was like barbed wire cinched tight around his heart.
He'd been played.
From the very beginning, that bottom-rung agent had been making fools of Hydra! Not only had he tricked them into granting him the highest clearance, he had then turned around and stabbed Project Insight through the heart!
"Sir, the asset is in position." Crossbones, Rumlow, strode out of the shadows, his right arm still trembling slightly inside its cast.
Pierce wasted no words. His expression dark, he strode toward the top-secret cryogenic chamber at the far end of the corridor.
The heavy metal chamber door slowly opened. Freezing white nitrogen mist billowed out, instantly dropping the room's temperature to the freezing point.
The icy mist dispersed, and Bucky Barnes opened his eyes. They held no human emotion, only absolute obedience. He slowly sat up, the silver metal armor of his left arm emitting a low mechanical hum as its gears meshed.
Pierce walked up to him and looked down at Hydra's most perfect weapon.
"Your mission has changed." Pierce gritted his teeth, every word steeped in utter venom. "Go to Brooklyn. Find the agent named Lynn. No headshots. Shoot through his limbs. Cripple him!"
A gambler's madness gleamed in Pierce's eyes. "I want to see exactly where the defensive limits of that witch he has, the one named Qi, lie! I'll drag that trump card he's so proud of out into the sunlight!"
The Winter Soldier gave no reply, only a mechanical nod. He picked up the heavy sniper rifle beside him and turned away, disappearing into the darkness like a soulless ghost.
Meanwhile, in Brooklyn.
The chilly early-autumn wind blew off the Hudson River into the streets, sweeping up fallen leaves. Carrying a brown paper bag, Lynn walked an easy two blocks. The sweet scent of cinnamon and the toasted aroma of baking wafted from the bag, dispelling the surrounding chill.
An amused curve played at the corners of Lynn's mouth.
What sniper fifteen hundred meters away last night? He had merely blasted a hole in the water tower with magic and made up that lie on the spot to sow suspicion in Steve Rogers.
In this world filled with fatalism and danger, Steve was the purest, most flawless piece of "jade." All Lynn had to do was dangle the bait of the "Zola Algorithm" and a "metal arm," and those unbreakable bonds would make that piece of jade unhesitatingly shield him from Hydra's attacks, both open and covert.
An information advantage was always a more effective killing machine than magic.
Pierce thought he controlled the board? No. From the moment Lynn activated the simulator, Hydra had been destined to become nothing more than a stepping stone paving his way.
Lynn stopped, glanced up at the dilapidated apartment building a short distance away, and pushed open the safe house's iron door.
The room was dim, its heavy blackout curtains drawn tight, admitting not a single ray of sunlight.
Before Lynn could change his shoes, a wave of heat laced with the fragrance of roses rushed into his face. A scorching, soft body lunged into his arms like a cheetah. The impact forced him half a step back, slamming his back against the door.
Wanda wrapped her legs straight around Lynn's waist and clamped her arms tightly around his neck. Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she inhaled his scent greedily, obsessively.
"Fifty-four minutes." Wanda's voice was hoarse, filled with madness and unease suppressed to their utmost limit. "You were out of my sight for fifty-four whole minutes. Lynn... I almost crushed every living person on that street."
Scarlet chaos particles danced restlessly in the dim air, brushing Lynn's cheek with a faint electrical sting. Had Lynn returned even one second later, this witch in her intensely obsessive state would absolutely have fulfilled her promise to destroy the world.
Lynn supported her thigh with one hand, took a still-steaming cinnamon roll from the paper bag with the other, and slipped it neatly into Wanda's mouth, stopping the dangerous, twisted remarks she was about to make.
"The line was too long, darling." Lynn's voice was almost meltingly gentle. His thumb softly stroked the nape of Wanda's neck, as though soothing a lioness on the verge of going berserk. "I promised you I would never leave your side."
The cloying sweetness of cinnamon spread through her mouth. Wanda chewed mechanically, and only then did the violence in her eyes, the urge to destroy everything, recede a little. She tightened her arms, pressed her face against Lynn's chest, and listened to his steady heartbeat, letting out an extremely soft sigh of contentment.
At that moment, so tender it was almost disturbing.
Deep within Lynn's mind, the nerve belonging to his top-tier Spider-Sense suddenly erupted with an unprecedentedly piercing roar, as though struck by high-voltage electricity!
The hairs on his back stood on end instantly, and fine tremors rippled across his skin.
This was no feigned probe like last night's.
This was real, lethal killing intent, carrying destructive power pushed to the extreme!
Twelve hundred meters away, on the top floor of the abandoned Clock Tower.
Gusts swept grit off the concrete floor and hurled it against the cold walls. Like a lifeless statue, the Winter Soldier lay prone at the edge of the high vantage point. His cold mechanical left arm steadily supported the barrel of a Barrett heavy sniper rifle, while the rough pad of his right finger already rested against the cold trigger.
The crosshairs pierced the airborne dust, precisely aligning with the narrow gap in the safe house's curtains.
Through the high-powered scope, Lynn stood with his back to the window, holding the chestnut-haired woman tightly.
The crosshairs locked firmly onto Lynn's right shoulder blade. According to the ballistic calculations, once the trigger was pulled, this specially designed armor-piercing round would tear through the wall in a fraction of a second, instantly shatter the target's collarbone, sever his nerves, and leave him utterly crippled.
"Target confirmed," the Winter Soldier murmured, his voice utterly flat.
Without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger.
Yet, in the microsecond before the firing pin struck.
Through his scope, the Winter Soldier saw a bizarre sight that made even a perfect killing machine like him falter for an instant.
The young man, who had been facing away from the window and could not possibly have detected a threat a thousand meters away, suddenly turned his head slightly.
Lynn's gaze seemed to pierce the twelve hundred meters of physical distance and stab straight into the center of the scope's crosshairs. Looking toward the sniper rifle, he curled his lips into an utterly mocking sneer.
Then Lynn silently mouthed a few words toward the scope.
"Shoot, you useless piece of trash."
The Winter Soldier's pupils abruptly contracted, and his finger clamped hard on the trigger!
Before you continue