Chapter 491: I Am Hydra (Part 5)
This was a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility disguised as a small hydroelectric station, an unregistered site that exuded a damp scent—not just the smell of spring. The water flow was nearly dried up, with only shallow pools of accumulated rainwater resting in the channels. A protruding concrete slab in the channel stood still like an isolated island in the water, while weeds grew up from the pavement, thriving and clustering together like a whispering green family.
It seemed to have rained just before their arrival. The geometric concrete buildings, soaked in moisture, were stained with mottled black patches. Rusted railings and abandoned water pipes bore the marks of years of rain, leaving streaks of rust like dried blood across the structures. The pervasive sense of abandonment, coupled with the nearly whitened, decaying leaves on the ground, reminded Steve Rogers of the places he used to live. When Agent Maria Hill pulled open the unlocked gate, the musty smell inside grew even stronger. Aging pipes stretched along the path leading to the illuminated interior, but no amount of light could erase the large rust stains on the metal walls.
He thought again of the person he had encountered not long ago, the one who should have been dead. For some reason, whenever he recalled that man, his mind painted the image in a sepia hue, much like the rust stains outside the hydroelectric station.
Everything had rusted—including himself, Steve Rogers thought grimly.
"She's been shot!" Maria Hill called out to the approaching doctor. "She's lost a pint of blood, maybe two."
"Leave it to me." The doctor took the patient from Sam's hands. When Maria Hill led them further into the base, they finally saw Nick Fury—the man who was supposed to be dead—along with Solomon Damonet, who had been waiting here for some time. Even Natasha Romanoff, whose consciousness was fading from blood loss, widened her eyes in shock.
Steve Rogers looked at the two men before him, both harboring secrets. He wanted to ask something, but Nick Fury silenced him with a look. He closed his mouth, trusting that a proper explanation would come.
The doctor raised an eyebrow at Solomon. The arcane practitioner stood up, taking the doctor's seat and assuming the next phase of the procedure. This doctor had previously witnessed Solomon's surgical skills—back then, he had allowed the unlicensed young man to operate solely based on Nick Fury's trust. This time, however, he intended to teach the young man how to use pharmaceuticals.
"You know, I guarantee there won't be any scars, and the wound will heal quickly," Solomon said as he donned latex gloves.
Natasha Romanoff glanced at him, forcing a weak smile before letting go of her wound. In just one day, she looked significantly more haggard, her face pale, lips cracked with dehydration. Once the doctor confirmed the anesthetic dosage, Solomon began a textbook-perfect rapid surgery.
"Your ability to foresee events is truly impressive," Romanoff murmured. "We did figure out what that thing was."
"Prophecy isn't omnipotent," Solomon responded, even as his hands worked deftly. "Kamar-Taj specializes in foresight and protection. What we see are possibilities," he explained. "Parallel universe possibilities. But no matter where you are, you always manage to complete your mission."
"Did you foresee me getting injured?" Natasha Romanoff asked meaningfully.
Solomon didn't answer immediately. After a long pause, he finally set down the ultra-fine hemostatic forceps and began retrieving potions from his dimensional bag.
"Yes, I knew," he said. "Drink this. You've had several bottles of it before. Your ribs are injured—if you don't get treated, in a few years, you won't be able to breathe properly."
"Spinal damage, fractured sternum, shattered clavicle, liver perforation, and a killer headache," Nick Fury listed his injuries from his hospital bed, explaining his recent ordeal. Despite the severity of his injuries, he looked full of energy—Natasha's blood loss symptoms were more severe than his.
Nick Fury looked like he could jump out of bed at any moment.
"Don't forget the collapsed lung," the doctor added after checking Solomon's progress.
"Oh, right. That's a crucial one. Other than that, I'm fine."
"They cracked open your chest, Fury! Your heart stopped beating!" Natasha Romanoff exclaimed in disbelief.
After receiving treatment, color rapidly returned to her face as her blood production kicked into high gear. Positive energy replaced depleted nutrients, fueling cellular regeneration. She turned her gaze to Solomon, who was cleaning up the medical waste. She suspected that Fury had contacted this magician even before she did.
"That came later. This kid got me back on my feet. Don't thank him too quickly—I paid him in gold," Nick Fury said. "I used Tetrodotoxin B—that stuff can slow your pulse to one beat per minute. Banner developed it to relieve stress, though it doesn't work on him. But we found another use for it."
"Why keep it a secret?" Steve asked. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"To make the assassination attempt look successful," Hill answered.
"You can't kill a dead man. Besides, I don't trust many people. In this situation, I can't be sure who is trustworthy."
———
"You knew all along!" Steve Rogers pulled Solomon aside.
In this barely dry corridor, every breath Steve took felt laden with metallic dust and fungal spores. That familiar sensation of being crammed into a damp, rundown space returned—along with memories he had tried to escape.
"You showed me that video. You knew who the Winter Soldier was from the beginning."
He stared intently at Solomon. The corridor wasn't very high, and the white overhead lights reflected in Solomon's eyes, filling them with an incandescent glow that made him look inhuman. Steve Rogers fixed his gaze on the young man, now even taller than himself, searching for an answer.
"Yes, I knew," Solomon replied coldly, his tone laced with mockery. "But if I had told you earlier, what could you have done? I know what you're thinking, Rogers—he's the only friend you have left alive."
"Hey, Sam!"
"I just came to check if you two were okay." Sam had his hands in his pockets. He had noticed Steve's sour expression when he pulled Solomon aside, and at Hill's suggestion, he came out to make sure things didn't escalate. He also happened to overhear the conversation about the Winter Soldier.
The Winter Soldier and a group of plainclothes mercenaries had ambushed them on Virginia Avenue. Sam still couldn't believe that someone had used a Gatling gun in broad daylight on a city street.
They were incredibly lucky to have survived.
Steve shook his head and walked back into the room, deciding he no longer wanted to discuss the matter.
"Hey, man!" Sam casually patted Solomon's arm. "Are you a doctor?"
"Maybe," the arcane practitioner replied amicably. "Come on, I'm sure Nick Fury won't stay idle for long. He's got a mission for you."
———
"He refused the Nobel Peace Prize…"
Before Nick Fury could finish his sentence, Solomon burst into laughter, breaking the serious atmosphere of the meeting.
Annoyed, Fury rolled his eyes. If he weren't still sore all over, he would have jumped up and smacked Solomon first.
"Alright, moving on. I know what you're going to say, you little punk," Fury said. "Let's get to the point—Project Insight. Steve, I know you oppose all forms of crime prediction…"
"This kind of system has already been implemented. It's running as we speak," Solomon said with a triumphant smile. "A genius programmer and algorithm engineer finished a similar project ahead of time. He turned the program into a black box and handed it over to the NSA. When it comes to national-level terrorist threats, that program provides early warnings. And there are plenty of similar programs running. This isn't new."
"But those programs aren't equipped with weapons," Nick Fury countered.
"I know about the Polaris Squad. S.H.I.E.L.D. has carried out similar missions. But now that program has failed, and S.H.I.E.L.D. wants a new one."
"Excellent." Solomon's expression remained unchanged. "I have one."
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