The night wind cut like a knife, carrying the Hudson River's damp chill as it lashed across the top floor of Brooklyn's Clock Tower.
Steve Rogers nimbly vaulted the half-collapsed concrete railing, his combat boots scraping softly over the rubble scattered across the floor. An intensely strong smell of ozone lingered in the air, mixed with the acrid, scorched odor of an overheated gun barrel.
He lowered his head, his gaze instantly locking onto the Barrett Sniper Rifle abandoned on the concrete floor.
The barrel had been severely twisted like a rope, and several brutally deep dents scarred the titanium alloy body. Steve crouched and slowly ran his rough fingertips over the dents, the cold touch of metal traveling along his nerves straight to his heart.
Those indentations had been forcibly squeezed into the metal by mechanical fingers.
"Bucky..." Steve's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, his voice frighteningly hoarse.
The ballistic data and coordinates Lynn had sent ten minutes earlier had been correct. His closest friend, who had plunged into an abyss amid ice and snow, had not only survived but been transformed by Hydra into an unfeeling instrument of slaughter. The suffocating sensation of cold fate gripping his throat made Steve's chest heave, his muscles trembling slightly with extreme rage.
S.H.I.E.L.D., which he had been so proud of, had actually used his brother as a tool for seventy years!
"Slurp-"
A thoroughly ill-timed sound of someone eating noodles suddenly came through the Encrypted Communicator, breaking the Clock Tower's deathly silence.
Steve abruptly pressed his earpiece, lowering his voice. "Lynn?"
"It's the middle of the night, and I've burned through too many brain cells. Having a bowl of seafood ramen to replenish them." Lynn sounded languid, and Steve could even hear broth bubbling in the background. "Captain, had your fill of the traces at the scene? That mechanical arm should be better maintained than your shield."
Steve stood, the night wind whipping his jacket. "You knew he was there all along. You used yourself as bait just to force me to come here?"
"Don't make me out to be so noble, Captain." Lynn bit through a noodle, his tone abruptly turning cold. "I'm just a low-ranking agent who could be made cannon fodder at any moment. That shot came within three centimeters of my back. If the girl in my arms hadn't risked her life to stop that bullet, you'd be coming to collect my corpse right now."
Lynn paused, then precisely delivered the deadly information Steve lacked. "Hydra brainwashed Sergeant Barnes into a weapon that feels no pain, while I just want to protect this piece of 'jade' in my arms. We're both putting our lives on the line for our bonds. It's just that your bond is currently pointing a gun at your head."
Steve clenched his fists, his leather gloves creaking dully. "I've already uncovered the underlying logic of the Zola Algorithm. But I don't understand. Who has enough authority to bypass Fury and activate Project Insight?"
"Still haven't seen through it, Captain?" Lynn set down his noodle fork and looked toward Washington, D.C., across half of New York City, a mocking smile curling his lips. "The tree that is S.H.I.E.L.D. rotted down to its roots long ago. Those colleagues who greet you every day are all 'rogue ninja' lurking in the shadows. And Alexander Pierce, who sits at the very top and talks peace with you every day, is Hydra's head."
Steve's pupils abruptly contracted.
"Your justice, your principles, that uncompromising 'way of the ninja' of yours..." Lynn's voice was like a devil's whisper, every word striking at his heart. "In Pierce's eyes, they're nothing more than obstacles he can erase at any time. Project Insight's purge list includes not just you, but Tony Stark and me too."
The call ended abruptly.
Steve stood at the edge of the Clock Tower, looking down over the brightly lit city. Fury surged through his veins like magma. He reached behind him and drew his Vibranium Shield, its weight restoring absolute clarity to his mind.
He had to find Fury immediately and cut down this poisonous tree himself.
Meanwhile, on the seventh basement level of the Triskelion in Washington, D.C.
Nick Fury sat behind his broad desk, his sole remaining eye fixed on Crossbones, Rumlow, who had brutally kicked the door open and stormed inside.
Six fully armed Special Operations Troopers spread into tactical formation, their dark muzzles instantly covering every blind spot in the room. The white beams of their tactical flashlights were too dazzling to look into.
"Sir, Secretary Pierce would like you to join him for coffee." A sinister smile curved Rumlow's lips, his finger already resting on the trigger.
Fury remained motionless, both hands flat on the desk, his fingertips lightly tapping the solid wood.
"Rumlow, I remember personally giving you an excellent grade in tactical shooting." Fury's voice remained perfectly steady.
"Times have changed, Director. Hail Hydra." Rumlow sneered and stepped forward to seize him.
The instant he moved, Fury abruptly flipped his left hand.
Rumlow instinctively jerked his head aside, thinking Fury was drawing a gun, only to discover it was a harmless feint! Fury had not drawn a weapon at all. Instead, he slammed a concealed red button beneath the edge of the desk.
"Bzzzz-!"
An excruciatingly piercing, high-frequency infrasonic wave instantly erupted inside the enclosed office. Then the four emergency lights on the ceiling blazed with a deathly white glare powerful enough to blind.
"Aah!" The Special Operations Troopers screamed and covered their eyes, blood seeping from their battered eardrums.
This tactical blinding maneuver, comparable to a substitution technique, bought Fury three crucial seconds.
He kicked away the leather chair and sprang up like a cheetah, snatching the encrypted hard drive from the desk before hurling himself through the panoramic floor-to-ceiling window behind him. Wind instantly roared into the room. In midair, Fury deployed his Micro Glider and dropped into Washington, D.C.'s boundless night like a kite with a severed string.
"Open fire! Don't let him escape!" Fighting through his double vision, Rumlow frantically pulled the trigger. Bullets shattered the remaining glass, but failed to touch even Fury's shadow.
On the streets of Brooklyn.
Steve swung onto his heavy motorcycle and kicked down the starter. The V8 engine erupted in a ferocious roar, and a choking plume of blue exhaust shot from the tailpipe.
He leaned low, preparing to head straight onto the bridge across the water and charge toward the Triskelion.
Just then, his Encrypted Communicator sounded an urgently shrill red alert.
Steve pressed the answer button, and Natasha's heavy, weak panting came through amid the howling wind.
"Steve... don't go back to headquarters!" Natasha's voice carried unprecedented urgency, mixed with stifled groans of pain.
"Natasha? Are you hurt? Where's Fury!" Steve abruptly clamped down on the brakes. The tires scraped a long black streak across the asphalt, and the acrid smell of scorched rubber instantly spread.
"Fury... was attacked." Natasha gritted her teeth as dense automatic rifle fire sounded in the background. "A man wearing a metal mask did it! Listen, Pierce just started a network-wide broadcast..."
Before Natasha could finish, the huge LED billboard above the street suddenly flickered, and the regular commercial was forcibly cut off.
Alexander Pierce's solemn, grief-stricken face appeared on the screen.
"Attention, all S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Director Nick Fury has suffered a terrorist attack. His current condition is unknown." Pierce's voice echoed through the entire block over the loudspeakers. "It has been confirmed that the masterminds behind this attack are Steve Rogers and the defecting agent Lynn."
Steve abruptly looked up. Seeing the highest-level red wanted notices for himself and Lynn displayed side by side on the screen, his mind buzzed.
"Effective immediately, revoke all access privileges for Steve Rogers and Lynn. Any agent who locates the targets is authorized to shoot to kill." Through the screen, Pierce's gaze seemed fixed on Steve at the street corner.
Veins bulged on the backs of Steve's hands as he gripped the handlebars. He was about to turn the motorcycle around to support Natasha when he suddenly noticed a miniature tracking device flashing red beneath his dashboard. He had no idea when it had appeared!
At the end of the street, three armored SUVs had already sealed off his retreat like ghosts, their dazzling high beams instantly engulfing him.
A door swung open, and a mechanical left arm reflecting the cold moonlight slowly extended from the vehicle.
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