The Winter Soldier plummeted with terrifying grace, his form slicing through the air like a black arrow. He tucked his limbs inward, narrowing his silhouette, every movement controlled and deliberate. The wind howled past him, but he showed no fear, no hesitation—only cold, unwavering purpose.
Below him, the rooftop of the Triskelion was chaos.
Spotlights flicked frantically across the helipad, alarms screamed from every corner, and SHIELD agents scrambled between defensive positions, confused by simultaneous breaches. Some trained weapons skyward, others barked orders into comms, but none saw him until it was too late.
He landed like a meteor.
Concrete cracked beneath his boots as he crouched low, absorbing the impact with inhuman precision. Dust exploded around him. The entire rooftop shuddered.
The nearest guards froze, stunned by the sheer force of the landing. One reached for his weapon.
Too slow.
Bucky surged forward.
His metal arm struck first—ripping the rifle from the agent's grasp and slamming him to the ground. A second agent fired, but Bucky ducked, closed the gap, and elbowed him with enough force to send him flying into a communications panel. Sparks burst as systems shorted.
A third tried to run.
Bucky reached him in three strides and swept his legs out with a brutal kick. The man collapsed with a groan, weapon scattering across the rooftop.
The rest scattered.
Within seconds, the rooftop was clear.
He stood alone, his breath steady beneath the mask, eyes scanning the perimeter. Then he turned toward the central control tower and began to move.
Far below, Steve Rogers descended rapidly inside the launch elevator. The red emergency lights pulsed around him, casting sharp shadows across the walls. The sirens wailed like a city on the brink.
He adjusted the straps on his shield harness, jaw tight.
"Alexander, Monroe, status?" he called into his comm.
Alexander's voice crackled through interference. "Engaged upper security. Four floors above you. Moving fast."
"Lower grid sealed," Monroe replied, his tone calm but sharp. "But I'm cutting through. Might blow a wall."
Steve exhaled through his nose. "Make it count."
The elevator jolted to a stop.
The doors opened to a corridor filled with SHIELD strike agents already in formation, weapons raised.
Steve moved before they could.
He dove from the elevator, shield-first. Bullets pinged off the vibranium as he crashed into the lead pair, knocking them over like dominoes. He rolled, rose into a crouch, and swept the legs of a third attacker. One agent lunged from behind—Steve spun and decked him with a punch that sent him reeling.
Another turret unfolded from the wall.
Steve flung the shield.
It hit the turret base with surgical accuracy, sparks exploding as it shorted out mid-spin. The shield bounced, clanged off a bulkhead, and returned to his hand just as the last two guards hesitated.
He didn't wait.
He charged.
Elsewhere in the building, Alexander sprinted through a high corridor illuminated by pulsing emergency lights. The hallway twisted between upper control chambers, where internal surveillance operators panicked over the breach.
Alexander moved like shadow incarnate.
Black tendrils trailed behind him, slithering along the walls and ceiling. He vaulted a guard rail, landed silently on a catwalk above a squad of agents, and released two lances of darkness.
They struck clean.
Two guards collapsed, silent.
An alarm light overhead exploded from a ricocheted bullet. The remaining operatives fired blindly into the upper walkways.
Alexander dropped down behind them.
A single sweep of his arm sent all four tumbling.
He didn't stop.
He melted into the corridor beyond.
Below them, Monroe worked in silence.
He crouched before a sealed bulkhead in a dim maintenance tunnel, old steam pipes rattling above him. He planted a charge with practiced precision, then leaned into his comm.
"Three seconds," he muttered.
The wall exploded inward.
Smoke poured into a glowing chamber beyond—lined with rotating data cores and pulsing energy conduits. The control hub for Zola's algorithm.
Monroe stepped through the breach, eyes narrowing beneath the flash of blue light. Every console was active, cascading lines of code flickering like veins. The hum of machinery vibrated in his chest.
He was in.
Back on the rooftop, the HYDRA VTOL hovered in place like a predator in waiting, turbines whining, casting a low hum across the landing pad.
The strike team inside didn't move.
They didn't need to.
One figure stepped to the ramp.
No cables. No chute.
The Winter Soldier stood still for a breath, then stepped off the edge and disappeared into the night.
End of Chapter 102
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