Hydra's legacy

Rain poured down over New York at midnight.

It had been raining since evening, as though trying to wash away every trace of the gun smoke left from the night before. For most residents, it was simply miserable weather, the kind best spent watching television under the covers; for certain people who lived in the shadows, however, it was perfect cover.

S.C.U. secret base (auto repair shop).

The holographic screen cast its glow over three faces bearing different expressions.

"You're saying we're going to rob someone?" Benjamin Lee pushed his slipping glasses back up his nose. His voice trembled slightly, but mostly with barely contained excitement. "And we're robbing Hydra?"

"One correction, Ben." Zhao Fan sat on an oil-stained workbench, wiping down the alloy dagger he had taken from Shadow's bodyguard. Its edge reflected a cold gleam under the lights. "It's called 'emergency recovery.' Hydra is an illegal organization. Its assets aren't protected by law. As a special D.O.D.C. squad, we have a duty to... safeguard these dangerous goods before they reach the black market."

"Safeguard them in our pockets?" Old Dog Jose sat nearby, using his newly issued tactical shotgun as a cane as he leisurely smoked a cigar. Last night's fighting had sent his adrenaline soaring. Though physically exhausted now, he was still unusually keyed up. "I like the sound of that, Fan. Beats unclogging toilets in the sewers."

The corners of Zhao Fan's mouth lifted slightly as he tapped three red dots on the holographic map.

He had extracted these three locations from Shadow's scrambled thought fragments when he used [Mental Pressure] to break through her psychological defenses. They were three emergency safe houses Shadow had set up for Hydra in New York while acting as a middleman.

"Shadow's gone down. Hydra's informants must be in total chaos right now," Zhao Fan analyzed calmly. "Knowing how those lunatics operate, once the risk of exposure passes a certain threshold, they'll launch their 'scorched earth plan'-destroy all records, blow up all supplies, then evacuate."

"So we're racing against the clock." Benjamin's fingers flew across the keyboard. "I found it. All three locations showed abnormal fluctuations in their surveillance data ten minutes ago. That's a sign they're about to go offline."

"Then let's stop talking." Zhao Fan sheathed the dagger and stood. A black tactical trench coat wrapped his tall, lean frame, making him look like a cheetah poised to spring. "Ben, stay at the base and provide intelligence support. Block police channels and civilian surveillance along our route. Old Dog, grab your gear. We're going shopping."

"What about equipment?" Old Dog patted the weapons case behind him. "Do we use those serial-numbered 'toys' Evelyn gave us, or..."

"Black-market gear." A sharp glint flashed through Zhao Fan's eyes. "The helpful passing citizens are heading out again. We may have reached an agreement with Evelyn, but let's avoid unnecessary trouble. Keep our identities hidden as much as possible, or we might not get much of a share."

"Got it, Fan." Old Dog grinned, exposing tobacco-yellowed teeth. "I love jobs without all those rules and restrictions."

First stop: Brooklyn, a warehouse belonging to Old John Cold Chain Logistics.

On the surface, it delivered frozen meat to nearby restaurants. In reality, according to Shadow's memories, it was a small Hydra arms transfer depot in New York.

In the rainy night, an unmarked black pickup silently stopped in the shadows of the alley behind the warehouse.

"Boss, thermal imaging shows twelve heat signatures inside." Benjamin relayed the data in real time through their tactical earpieces. "They're moving things fast. Looks like they're loading up to run."

"Twelve?" Old Dog racked his shotgun. "There's only two of us."

"That's enough." Zhao Fan opened the door, letting the cold rain strike his face.

After the Extremis Virus modifications and the baptism of repeated battles, his senses had sharpened to an inhuman degree. Through the rain, he could clearly hear heavy footsteps inside the warehouse, the sharp clank of metal crates colliding, and even the men's hurried breathing.

"Old Dog, cover the back door. Don't let any vehicles escape. I'll take the front."

"Are you crazy? They're bound to have firing positions at the front."

"That's exactly what I need to draw their attention." Zhao Fan vanished into the curtain of rain, leaving only a quiet command behind. "Move."

At the warehouse's front entrance, two Hydra agents in security uniforms warily scanned their surroundings, MP5 submachine guns concealed beneath their raincoats.

Suddenly, a dark figure dropped from above the shipping containers.

They had no time to react. Zhao Fan's feet landed soundlessly, his hands already clamping around the backs of their necks like iron pincers.

[Kinetic Repulsion: Fine Control].

A precisely controlled vibrational force blasted through his palms into their brain stems. There were no cracking bones, no screams. The two agents simply rolled their eyes back and crumpled.

Zhao Fan dragged their bodies into the shadows, then looked up at the surveillance camera overhead.

"Ben, are we good?"

"All set! The feed's looping." Benjamin's smug voice came through the earpiece. "I also hacked their electronic access controls while I was at it. You're now a 'water meter inspector' with top-level clearance."

"Good work."

Zhao Fan approached the enormous rolling shutter. Instead of swiping a card, he pressed his palm against the thick metal door.

[C-grade technological product detected: high-strength alloy door.]

[Analysis...]

"No need for analysis," Zhao Fan murmured.

He drew a deep breath. The Extremis Virus cells inside him began to boil, dark-gold light flowing beneath his skin.

[Hard Carapace] covered both arms, and [Kinetic Repulsion] stood ready.

Boom!

A tremendous crash rang out like thunder from a clear sky.

The alloy door, sturdy enough to withstand a truck collision, buckled inward and flew free under a single palm strike from Zhao Fan!

The massive metal panel shot into the warehouse like a cannonball and slammed into a forklift being used to load cargo, crushing it and its load into a heap of scrap.

The Hydra agents inside froze in shock. Watching the figure slowly enter through the dust and rain mist, they momentarily forgot to shoot.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

Zhao Fan shook out his wrist. Processed by a voice changer, the voice beneath his mask sounded deep and hoarse. "Heard you were having a clearance sale? I invited myself over to pick up a few bargains."

"Open fire! Kill him!"

A large bald man in charge reacted first, raising his automatic rifle and spraying bullets.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-

Muzzle flames spat, and a dense hail of bullets poured toward him.

But Zhao Fan did not dodge.

He merely raised his left arm to protect his head and face.

[Hard Carapace: Active Hardening].

His skin instantly took on a dull metallic sheen, as though an invisible biological force field clung tightly to his body. Bullets struck his arm and torso with sharp metallic clangs, scattering countless sparks, yet failed even to break his skin, leaving only shallow white marks.

"What... what kind of monster is this?!" The bald man's pupils trembled violently.

"Monster?" Zhao Fan chuckled and abruptly moved.

He left an afterimage where he had stood. A second later, he was already in front of the bald man.

"I'm here to collect the rent."

A heavy fist wrapped in repulsive force smashed forward.

As though struck by a speeding train, the bald man's sternum shattered, and he flew more than ten meters backward, knocking down a row of shelves.

The battle-or rather, the one-sided slaughter-began.

The fighting inside the Old John Cold Chain Logistics warehouse ended even faster than expected.

When Old Dog Jose charged through the back door with his shotgun, ready for action, all he found were groaning men scattered across the floor and Zhao Fan prying open wooden crates one after another.

"Hell, Fan, couldn't you have left even one for me?" Old Dog kicked aside a fallen submachine gun by his feet, looking thoroughly disgruntled. "My barrel's still cold. I wanted to try out those new slugs."

"Two more stops after this. You'll have plenty to do." Zhao Fan did not turn around. He was examining an oddly shaped pistol.

The gun was silver-white throughout, its streamlined body thoroughly futuristic. Rather than conventional rifling, its muzzle held an energy emitter glowing faint blue. Beside the grip was a small inscription: [Prototype - Experimental].

[C+ grade technological creation detected: Hydra pulse energy pistol (prototype).]

[Status: fully charged.]

[Analysis yields: basic energy-focusing technology, miniature Arc Reactor battery schematics.]

[Absorb?]

The system was as greedy as ever, but this time Zhao Fan chose no.

Absorbing it now would only raise my energy cap a little, but keeping it gives us real fighting power. I can analyze it later if I get the chance.

Zhao Fan tossed the pistol to Old Dog. "Catch. Watch out for accidental discharge. This thing has no safety, just a biometric fingerprint lock, though Ben should be able to crack it."

Old Dog fumbled to catch it, his eyes immediately going wide. "Damn, is this a new weapon Hydra made for its troops? Last I heard, something like this was going for a hundred thousand dollars apiece on the black market-and they only had pictures!"

"There's a whole crate here." Zhao Fan pointed to the crate by his feet. Twenty identical energy pistols lay neatly arranged inside, along with matching charging modules. "They even use Stark Industries technology. Looks like Hydra intercepted a shipment from Stark, or... they've got rats inside Stark Industries too."

"We're rich..." Old Dog's hands trembled. He quickly pulled a storage bag from his backpack and began stuffing it like a squirrel moving house. "If we sold these to Shadow... oh, right, that woman's already in a psychiatric hospital. Sell them to anyone and we can spend the rest of our lives sunbathing in Hawaii!"

"Don't just focus on the guns." Zhao Fan walked deeper into the warehouse, where a heavily protected safe stood.

He pressed his hand against the safe and activated [Weak Energy Perception].

There were no gold bars or cash inside, only two things.

Several brick-thick blocks of high-powered C4 plastic explosive wrapped in yellow oilpaper, and a black crystal rod no larger than a USB drive, seated in a specially made base.

Countless streams of light seemed to flicker inside the crystal rod, like a sealed river of stars.

"What's this?" Old Dog reached for it curiously.

"Don't touch it!" Benjamin let out a near-screaming roar through the earpiece. "Oh my God... Boss! Don't tell me that's what I think it is!"

Zhao Fan picked up the black crystal rod, its icy touch penetrating his palm.

[Item name: military-grade full-spectrum decryption key (master key).]

[Grade: B-]

[Description: a top-clearance physical key jointly developed by S.H.I.E.L.D. and several major defense contractors. Can bypass most civilian and military firewalls and forcibly take over system privileges directly at the physical level.]

"Is this the 'master key' you were looking for?" Zhao Fan asked.

"Yes! Yes! Oh my God!" Benjamin was so excited he could barely speak coherently. "That's the Holy Grail of hacking! With that, I won't have to type hundreds of thousands of lines of code into that crappy computer to run credential-stuffing attacks! Just plug it into a port, and I can stroll through D.O.D.C.'s servers, or even... the Pentagon's perimeter servers, like my own backyard!"

Looking at the crystal rod in his hand, Zhao Fan curled his lips into a cold smile.

Hydra had gone to such lengths to acquire this thing, clearly intending to instantly paralyze the defenses of New York, or even the entire East Coast, when everything erupted.

Now it belonged to Zhao.

"Stop drooling, Ben. It's yours now." Zhao Fan carefully placed the key inside a specially made magnetic shielding case. "Within three days, I want you to use it to put a lock on our communications channels that nobody can crack. And while you're at it... clean up our traces in the system."

"Consider it done, Boss! I'm sleeping with it tonight!"

"And these explosives." Zhao Fan tossed the C4 to Old Dog. "Old Dog, know how to use this stuff?"

"You're kidding. I worked as a blaster at a mine back home." Old Dog hefted the explosives. "This is genuine military C4. One block like this could send the whole building sky-high. What do we need it for?"

"Preparing for a rainy day." Zhao Fan glanced out into the rainy night. "Some people don't understand reason. They only understand explosions."

He dusted off his hands and turned to leave.

"Clean up the battlefield. Take every high-value target. We've got twenty minutes left. Let's bring Hydra some 'warmth' at the next stop."

The rain fell harder and harder.

The squad called S.C.U. was tearing chunks of flesh from a dying behemoth like greedy hyenas.

Second stop: an underground casino called the Pink Panther, on the edge of Hell's Kitchen in Manhattan.

It was a Hydra den used for money laundering and intelligence gathering.

Unlike the armed defenses at the cold-storage warehouse, the mix of people here made things harder to handle.

"We can't storm this place." Sitting in the truck, Zhao Fan watched the brightly lit entrance nearby. "There are plenty of unsuspecting gamblers inside. A firefight could easily hurt bystanders, and it'd bring the police."

"Then what do we do?" Old Dog polished his new favorite-the energy pistol. "Go in disguised as gamblers?"

"No." Zhao Fan shook his head. "We're not going in. We're making them come out."

He pulled several blocks of C4 seized from the warehouse out of his backpack, along with the signal transmitter Benjamin had modified.

"Ben, cut the casino's power and lock down every backup power supply. Then trigger the fire alarm."

"Copy. Connecting... three, two, one, lights out!"

As Benjamin finished speaking, the streetlights across the entire block abruptly went dark. Frightened screams and shrill fire alarms followed from inside the casino.

"Fire! Run!"

The crowd surged out, plunging the scene into chaos.

Wearing masks, Zhao Fan and Old Dog mingled among the onlookers, coldly watching several solemn-faced men in suits slip out the back door carrying black briefcases.

"Targets spotted," Zhao Fan said quietly. "Three men carrying cases."

"Leave it to me." Old Dog raised his shotgun but did not fire. Instead, he pulled a stun grenade from inside his coat and tossed it precisely at their feet.

Bang!

Blinding light and a deafening blast instantly stripped the men of their senses.

Zhao Fan rushed out like a ghost, drawing the stun baton at his waist. It blurred into a series of afterimages.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Three precise strikes brought the three suited men down.

Zhao Fan picked up the three heavy briefcases and hefted them.

"Pretty heavy." He opened one a crack. It was full of cash and gold bars. "Looks like we've found our operating funds."

"Police arrive in two minutes," Benjamin reminded them.

"Pull out."

Zhao Fan and Old Dog swiftly vanished into the dark alley, leaving behind a scattering of dazed Hydra agents and the approaching sound of sirens.

For Hydra's remnants lurking in New York, that night was a nightmare.

Their safe houses came under attack one after another. Not only did they suffer heavy personnel losses, but more importantly, their stockpiled supplies, weapons, funds, and even their most vital intelligence were all looted.

The attackers were extremely professional, leaving no trace that could be tracked. Even the surveillance footage had been replaced with funny cartoon clips.

It was blatant humiliation.