Chapter 38 - Hail Hydra… or Not!

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The elevator was large, but it suddenly felt tiny. The air was heavy, oppressive. Steve Rogers felt it in every fiber of his being. Something was wrong.

The doors opened, and a group of S.T.R.I.K.E. agents entered, led by Brock Rumlow. They positioned themselves around him, barely exchanging a glance.

Others got on at the next floor.

Then more.

Steve didn't move, but he analyzed every detail. The positions, the gestures, the sweat beading on one agent's forehead. The way another tightened his grip on his weapon.

It was an ambush.

Crouched on a metal beam fixed to the ceiling, invisible to mortal eyes, I watched him.

*He's going to figure it out in a few seconds.*

Pierrot floated nearby, scrutinizing the scene intently. He was tense. I could almost feel the pressure in the air.

I leaned slightly toward Steve and whispered in his mind:

*"Say 'Hail Hydra.'"*

He didn't react immediately, but I sensed his hesitation.

*"...What?"*

*"Trust me."*

He glanced around, quickly weighing his options. The elevator was full. There was no easy way out.

After a brief hesitation, he said in a neutral tone:

"Hail Hydra."

The effect was immediate.

One of the agents automatically responded.

"Hail Hydra."

A moment of hesitation.

Then, the silence shattered into a thousand pieces.

Steve struck first. His fist slammed into the first agent's jaw, sending him crashing against the metal wall. The elevator erupted into sudden chaos.

The agents tried to overwhelm him. Two grabbed his arms, attempting to pin him against the wall. A pair of handcuffs snapped onto his wrist.

But they had underestimated Captain America.

Steve yanked on the handcuff, dragging the agent holding it with him. He pivoted and sent the man crashing into another.

A third tried to cuff his other hand but received a brutal headbutt.

I smiled.

*He's holding his own… but a little help wouldn't hurt.*

I dropped a snowball right on the back of an agent trying to attack Steve from behind. He turned, confused.

"What the—"

Steve took the opportunity to elbow him in the stomach.

Pierrot watched silently, his eyes glowing faintly as he followed every move.

Rumlow, still standing, activated his taser and jammed it into Steve's side. Electricity crackled, briefly illuminating the confined space.

Steve gritted his teeth, grimacing under the impact.

Rumlow tried to maintain the pressure, but Steve grabbed his arm and slammed him violently against the ceiling. His body crashed to the floor with a dull thud.

Silence.

The agents' bodies littered the floor. Some were still trying to move, others were completely unconscious.

Steve caught his breath, his expression dark.

Then he slowly looked up at me.

His expression had changed.

He took a step forward, shield in hand.

"How did you know?"

I crossed my arms. "Know what?"

"Hydra."

*Damn.*

I'd forgotten that Steve didn't yet know S.H.I.E.L.D. was infiltrated.

His gaze hardened.

"You'd better give me a good reason to trust you."

I raised my hands innocently. "Look, it was a bluff. I knew something was off, so I tried it. It worked, didn't it?"

He kept his eyes locked on me, searching for any hint of a lie.

Pierrot, meanwhile, stayed back, tense. He sensed the situation could escalate at any moment.

Finally, Steve looked away.

"We'll talk about this later."

I slowly exhaled.

But before we could move, a shrill alarm blared through the building.

Reinforcements were coming.

Steve turned toward the door that had just opened. Outside, a floor full of agents stood in combat positions.

His gaze shifted to the reinforced glass behind him.

He sighed.

"No choice."

He lifted his shield and smashed it into the glass. The window exploded into a shower of glittering shards as Steve dove through the Triskelion's atrium. His shield hit the ground first, cushioning the impact with inhuman precision.

I let the wind carry me, following his descent without rushing. From above, I could hear the shouts of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rushing to where Captain America had just crashed.

He sprang to his feet, ignoring the obvious pain coursing through his body. Alarms wailed through the building, and an operator's voice echoed over the loudspeakers.

"All agents, lock down the Triskelion! Captain Rogers is a priority target, stop him immediately!"

I landed discreetly on a metal beam, watching Steve carve a path through the chaos. He wasn't thinking. He was acting. Every muscle, every movement was directed toward one thing: the exit.

Pierrot floated nearby, his eyes glowing faintly under the building's lights.

*"What do we do?"* he whispered telepathically.

I crossed my arms, watching S.H.I.E.L.D. forces converge.

*"We follow him. He knows where he's going."*

---

Steve reached the underground garage entrance in less than a minute. He spotted a row of parked vehicles and immediately zeroed in on what he was looking for: a motorcycle.

He sprinted toward it, narrowly dodging gunfire from a group of agents who had just emerged from an adjacent hallway.

Bullets ricocheted off the walls, sending chunks of concrete flying. Steve dove behind a column, using his shield for cover, before sweeping his attackers aside with a sharp strike.

I admired the fluidity with which he neutralized his opponents. He was a born warrior.

Without wasting a second, he mounted the bike, started the engine, and roared off.

The engine's roar echoed through the parking garage as he accelerated toward the exit.

But S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't going to let him go that easily.

Behind him, a roadblock had already formed. Black-clad agents took positions, weapons raised.

Steve didn't slow down.

He leaned forward and charged straight at them.

---

I glided through the air above him, positioning myself for a better view of the scene.

*"This is going to be tight,"* I murmured to Pierrot.

He nodded wordlessly, closely following the situation.

The agents opened fire.

Steve reacted instantly. He swerved the bike to the side, narrowly avoiding the bullets, before leaping off and sending his shield straight into the enemy line.

The impact sent several agents sprawling, creating a gap in the barricade.

He caught his shield mid-air and accelerated without missing a beat.

But as he barreled onto the bridge, a new threat appeared.

A Quinjet sliced through the sky, aligning itself with his trajectory.

The ship's machine guns slowly pivoted toward him, locking onto their target.

Steve clenched his teeth and pushed the throttle even harder.

---

On my end, I frowned.

*"He's going to get shot."*

Pierrot watched intently, then turned his head toward me.

*"We can slow it down."*

I smirked.

*"Oh, I can handle that."*

I raised my staff and blew a frosty gust.

A thick fog instantly rose around the bridge, drastically reducing the Quinjet's visibility.

The ship's shots went wide, missing their target.

Steve didn't stop.

He analyzed the situation, looking for a weak point.

Then he saw it.

The left engine.

Without hesitation, he leaped off his bike and launched himself at the Quinjet mid-flight.

---

The impact was brutal.

His shield struck the ship's hull, making it shudder slightly.

The pilot tried to shake off his unwanted passenger, but Steve held on firmly, climbing the fuselage like a true acrobat.

With a quick motion, he threw his shield into one of the engines.

The explosion was immediate.

The Quinjet wobbled, suddenly losing altitude.

Steve took the opportunity to leap onto the roof of a nearby building, rolling to a stop before stabilizing himself.

The ship, now missing an engine, tried to right itself, but it was too late.

It drifted, then crashed in a burst of flames.

---

I whistled, impressed, while Pierrot watched the scene in silence.

*"He really knows what he's doing."*

I nodded.

*"Yeah. And he doesn't need us to survive."*

Steve, now out of immediate danger, slipped quietly into an alley.

He exhaled, catching his breath.

Then he turned to me, his gaze still wary.

"We need to talk."

I raised an eyebrow.

*"Oh, I bet we do."*

He crossed his arms.

"And I hope this time, you'll give me more than riddles."

I smiled slightly, but I knew this wasn't the time for jokes.

---

He glanced around before stopping in front of a deserted sports field.

He spotted a duffel bag leaning against a bench.

After a brief hesitation, he approached, opened it, and pulled out a gray hoodie and sweatpants.

Without wasting time, he removed his uniform and put on the civilian clothes.

He rolled up his costume and stuffed it into the bag, slinging the strap over his shoulder.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he left the field and melted into the night.

Pierrot and I floated above him, following at a distance.

*"What do we do now?"* Pierrot asked.

I stared at Steve's disappearing figure as he turned the corner.

*"We stick with him. This story is far from over."*