Angie stood alone at the foot of the stairs, clutching her hand-painted T-shirt with Bella's face printed on it, still slightly out of breath.
Originally, she'd been bursting with excitement to show off her work to her best friend.
But in the blink of an eye—
> "Hmph! No appreciation for true art!"
She huffed, pouting.
---
Meanwhile — Southern Russia
In the snow-blanketed mountain ranges of southern Russia, thick white flakes cascaded down from a steel-gray sky. Predators prowled the forest floor, searching for their next meal beneath the canopy of ancient trees.
Amid this desolate wilderness, a massive hidden camp stood.
The structures looked recently built — white tents, fortified steel units, a perimeter guarded by high concrete walls and watchtowers. Though temporary in construction, the base sprawled across tens of thousands of square meters. A remote stronghold for a dark cause.
In the heart of the camp, inside a prefab bunker of stone and metal, a pudgy middle-aged man in glasses stood behind a thick metal observation door. Through the small, reinforced window, he peered into the containment cell beyond.
Inside sat a pair of siblings on a metal-framed cot — their hands clasped tightly, heads bowed.
Strucker's eyes gleamed with fanatical joy.
> "Marvelous... absolutely marvelous. These twins— they're perfection. Weapons forged from pain, molded by purpose."
He pressed a hand against the window, whispering like a mad priest before a shrine.
> "This is only the beginning. There will be more. They will give everything for HYDRA — and when we rise, we'll crush the Avengers, the Five Families, the heroes…"
He could almost see it — a new world, reborn in fire.
Then—
> "Baron Strucker."
An aide entered quietly, his voice urgent and low.
> "We need to move. S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers have likely locked in our location."
The fantasy shattered. Strucker's smile vanished, replaced with a sneer.
> "Those damned pests… always one step behind. If not for that boy... our experiments would've been complete by now. That brat should've died with the rest of them!"
The aide nodded, hesitant.
> "Rumor has it... he's the knight under the Goddess of Judgment."
Strucker's glare sharpened. He stalked toward the aide, voice like ice.
> "We have the twins. Soon we'll have an army. What's one Goddess to HYDRA?"
The aide flinched under the cold stare, wisely biting his tongue.
Truth be told, ever since that "brat" obliterated their Siberian facility, Strucker's rage had only grown. Their losses had been catastrophic. Manpower, data, resources— all gone in flames.
But killing this aide now? That would be stupid. They were already running short on loyal operatives.
> "Is it ready?" he growled.
> "Boxed. Secured. We're ready to evacuate."
Strucker nodded grimly.
> "Good. Prep the twins."
---
Moments Later — En Route
A long convoy rumbled down the snow-covered roads, cutting a path through the Russian wilderness. Armored vehicles took point and rear, flanking rows of black transport trucks. Inside one, Baron Strucker sat in the passenger seat, wrapped in a thick down coat, eyes fixed on the swirling snow outside.
The twins sat silently in the rear of the central transport. The girl in red, face pale and focused. The boy beside her clutched her hand tightly.
Suddenly—
> RUMBLE...
A deep tremor shook the sky. The clouds darkened. Thunder rolled overhead.
Both twins lifted their heads — the girl's crimson eyes glowing faintly. A storm had arrived, and with it, something... wrong.
Strucker stiffened.
> "Stop! Stop the convoy! Now!" he barked into his communicator.
But it was already too late.
A bolt of lightning split the sky, crashing into the lead vehicle.
> BOOOOOOM!!
The armed truck erupted in flames. Gunpowder ignited. Shrapnel tore through the air.
The road became chaos.
"Stop! Emergency brake!"
"Tires are skidding!"
More vehicles screeched. But the icy road betrayed them. A transport behind the explosion couldn't slow in time— it crashed into the wreckage.
> Another detonation. Then another. Four. Five.
Vehicles flipped, metal groaned, fire bloomed in the snow.
Strucker threw his door open, cold wind slamming into his face as he stared forward in horror.
From the dark clouds above, a red figure descended like a spear of judgment. Behind it, a Quinjet hovered.
Strucker's blood froze.
> "Avengers," he muttered. "All hands, prepare to engage!"
---
Inside the rear transport, the twins had already risen.
Strucker turned, meeting their eyes.
> "Time for you two to earn your keep."
---
Above — In the Sky
The red and gold figure floated effortlessly in the storm, repulsors glowing, visor scanning targets below. Tony Stark's voice echoed through loudspeakers.
> "Hi there, winter warriors! This is your friendly neighborhood Iron Man. You've got two options: surrender nicely—maybe I'll buy you a hot cocoa."
> "Or you can wait for the Hulk's fist massage."
As if on cue—
> ROOOOOOOAAAAAR!!!
A shadow launched from the Quinjet and crashed down like a meteor, pulverizing a transport truck on impact.
Green rage. Raw power.
> "HULK SMASH!"
The snow erupted.
From the fire and smoke ahead, a red-caped warrior strode through the wreckage. Hammer crackling in hand, Thor emerged like a god of war.
Overhead, in the Quinjet:
Natasha Romanoff double-checked her gear.
Clint Barton adjusted his quiver, already aiming through the glass.
> "Targets acquired," Hawkeye muttered.
> "Showtime," Natasha said, cool and calm.
---
The Avengers had arrived.
Baron Strucker watched in disbelief. His convoy burning, his soldiers in chaos, his trump card— the twins — still unpredictable.
And across the snow-covered battlefield, a god, a monster, a billionaire, a spy, and a sharpshooter bore down on him like a wrathful storm.
> "Damn you, Avengers…"
He grit his teeth and reached for his weapon.