Winter Soldiers Emergency-Thawed, Hydra's Dying Struggle

The armrests of the Bone Throne were icy cold.

Lynn's fingers tapped absently on his pale knuckles. The pungent, acrid smell of burnt flesh left by Jean Grey still lingered in the air.

The Holographic Projection screen floated in mid-air. On the screen, the red alarm lights of the Triskelion in Washington, D.C. were flashing wildly, and the piercing buzzing sound was mixed with the muffled roar of the underground Antigravity Engine, making the speakers crackle.

Lynn leaned forward slightly.

In the center of the screen, Nick Fury has over a dozen assault rifles pointed at his head. This once invincible king of secret agents now has his facial muscles taut, and his single eye filled with resentment and rage.

"What a show." Lynn's lips curled into a mocking smile.

He didn't rush to cut off the communication. The survival instinct that prey unleashes before death always provides the ultimate pleasure.

In the scene, Alexander Pierce is completely oblivious to Fury's predicament. He nervously bites his thumbnail while his other hand furiously types on the keyboard.

"Faster... faster..." Pierce muttered nervously.

His suit jacket was completely soaked with cold sweat, clinging tightly to his skin. The gazes of those three women in Lynn's live stream were like three poisoned awls, driven firmly into his brain.

STRIKE agents can't stop God.

Assault rifles are no match for those monsters, not even as good as sticks.

Pierce jerked his head up, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the progress bar on the screen. He grabbed the red physical authorization terminal next to him and slammed his thumb into the biometric area.

"Beep -- Highest Access Privileges confirmed. Siberia Protocol, release hibernation."

A cold, mechanical synthesized voice echoed in the Director's Office.

Fury's eye twitched. He stared at the secondary screen in front of Pierce, his pupils suddenly contracting.

On the secondary screen, a floor plan of the Class D Top Secret cryogenic storage facility deep beneath the Triskelion popped up. Rows of blue icons representing hibernation pods were turning a glaring Scarlet at a visible speed.

"Pierce! Are you insane?!" Fury's voice cracked with shock. "You transported all those monsters to Washington, D.C.?!"

"A monster?" Pierce let out a lisp, maniacal laugh, spitting onto the screen. "Nick, you've never seen a real monster! Compared to those three crazy women rushing here, they're practically the most loyal angels!"

Pierce grabbed the multi-band Communicator from the table and roared, "All floors, listen up! Authorize the underground armory! Bring out all the anti-tank missiles and high-frequency laser cannons!"

"Seal off all exits! Cut off power to the elevators! Lower all the armor plating on the load-bearing walls!"

"Not even a fly can get into this building!"

After yelling, Pierce slumped back into his swivel chair, panting heavily.

In front of the Holographic Screens, Lynn couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Pierce's desperate act.

"An angel?" Lynn shook his head, his dark eyes filled with pity and mockery.

The logic of mortals is truly pathetic to the extreme.

Did Pierce really think that a few dozen brainwashed Super-Soldiers, along with a bunch of junk that could blow up tanks, could provide him with a sense of security in the face of Skyfather-level's wrath?

He simply didn't understand that the group of Winter Soldier he had thawed were not even considered stumbling blocks in the eyes of Hela, Wanda, and Jean.

This will only make those three crazy women, eager to curry favor, even more excited.

Lynn could even picture what was about to happen.

Hela would fill the alveoli of those Super-Soldiers with Death Energy, watching them tear their throats apart in extreme suffocation.

Wanda will use Chaos Magic to modify the Underlying Logic of those robotic arms, causing the Winter Soldier to twist their own heads off.

As for Jean? That Yandere whose reason was extinguished by the Phoenix Force, she will most likely melt those high-explosive missiles, along with Winter Soldier, into a pool of boiling molten iron.

"Thank you for your generosity, Pierce." Lynn leaned back in his chair, his gaze as cold as if he were looking at a pile of dead flesh. "You've given their hunting game plenty of fun targets."

The scene cuts back to the office.

A dull metallic scraping sound came from underground.

That was the heavy armor plating on the building's lower level forcibly closing. The entire Triskelion was turning into a giant steel turtle shell.

As Pierce listened to these voices, the fear on his face finally faded a little, replaced by a desperate ruthlessness.

He raised his eyelids and looked at Fury, who was surrounded by gun barrels.

"Nick, your era is over." Pierce straightened his disheveled tie, his tone regaining a hint of coldness. "S.H.I.E.L.D.. never belonged to you. Hand it over to me; it's its only way out."

Fury didn't speak.

His mind was racing. Thirteen STRIKE agents, thirteen assault rifles. The distance was too close; even if he drew his gun, he could only take down two at most.

We must find an opportunity.

"Get rid of him." Pierce waved his hand impatiently. "Throw him into the incinerator, leave no trace."

The STRIKE Team leader stepped forward expressionlessly, his finger on the trigger.

At this critical moment...

"Boom!"

The entire bulletproof glass floor-to-ceiling window in the Director's Office suddenly shattered inwards without warning!

A fierce gust of wind, carrying sharp shards of glass, swept across the room like shotgun pellets. Several STRIKE agents, caught off guard, screamed and staggered backward, clutching their slashed faces.

Fury reacted extremely quickly, rolling on the spot and hiding behind the heavy solid wood desk.

Pierce was thrown to the ground by the blast wave, scrambled to his feet, and roared at the broken window, "Who gave you permission to go through the window?!"

In the howling wind, five burly figures slammed heavily onto the office carpet as they descended the special rappelling ropes.

The man in the lead had messy, shoulder-length hair, and most of his face was covered by a black metal mask, revealing only a pair of lifeless, emotionless eyes.

His left arm was a mechanical prosthetic limb that gleamed with a cold, silver light, bearing the imprint of a Scarlet five-pointed star.

Winter Soldier.

And there's more than one.

The four Super-Soldiers following behind him were also equipped with exoskeletons and heavy firepower. They still carried the biting cold air from being just released from cryogenic chambers, and their breaths exhaled white mist.

The temperature in the entire office instantly dropped to freezing.

Target locked.

The lead Winter Soldier spoke in a dry, mechanical voice. He suddenly raised his metal left arm, hoisting an oversized, heavy Grenade Launcher onto his shoulder.

The dark muzzle of the gun wasn't pointed out the window, but rather fixed firmly on Fury behind the desk.

Fury hid behind the table, his palms sweating profusely.

He heard the crisp click of Grenade Launcher being chambered.

A dozen STRIKE agents raised their guns again and surrounded the desk. Five Winter Soldier blocked all escape routes.

Pierce stood in a safe corner, a cruel smile on his face.

Extremis.

A truly hopeless situation with no chance of survival.

The king of spies gripped the Glock pistol tightly, a predatory glint in his single eye. He knew that to walk out of that door alive today, he had to fight to the death.

Just as Fury was about to flip the table in a desperate attempt...

The clouds over Washington, D.C. suddenly turned a blinding Scarlet without warning.

Immediately afterwards, a piercing bird cry, sharp enough to shatter eardrums, crashed down from the depths of the clouds!