Chapter 216: Wakanda, Crossbones' Entry

Somewhere in the world.

In a dim yet spacious underground facility, the walls—black as night—were engraved with Hydra's symbols. Researchers bustled about, seemingly engrossed in various tasks.

In one corner of the lab, Connors was hunched over a workstation, deeply focused on studying a vial of some mysterious liquid.

Thanks to Hydra's assistance, after having his prosthetic arm replaced with one made of vibranium, he had grown increasingly satisfied with his new limb. Vibranium not only granted his arm immense strength but also proved invaluable in his research.

At that moment, a man in military uniform approached and stood beside Connors. "Doctor, you've worked hard recently," he said.

"You've provided so much strength to our organization."

"Thanks to your contributions, our mutant program has finally made some tangible progress."

Connors adjusted his glasses and replied with a smile, "It's what I should do."

"Hydra's years of experimental data have been immensely beneficial to me as well."

The man in uniform nodded approvingly. Compared to the scientists they previously coerced or manipulated into cooperation, he much preferred someone like Connors, who fully committed himself after negotiating favorable terms.

So far, the collaboration between Hydra and Connors had been smooth, so much so that some higher-ups had already begun implementing a plan to subtly brainwash him.

"By the way, since you're here, I have a question," Connors said.

"Go ahead, Doctor," the man replied. "As long as it's within my purview, I'll answer honestly."

"It's not that serious," Connors said, waving off the formality. "I just want to know—how did you discover vibranium's compatibility with human cells?"

"Or rather, who was the first Hydra test subject to receive a vibranium prosthetic?"

Connors' curiosity was evident. Although he had gained access to many of Hydra's internal research files, anything related to vibranium remained frustratingly out of reach.

The man in uniform, understanding Connors' implicit request, smiled as he explained, "To some extent, this technology wasn't invented by Hydra."

"It comes from a far more technologically advanced country."

Connors was taken aback. "A country more advanced than any other? Where on Earth is that?"

He was skeptical. After losing his arm, Connors had traveled the world seeking the best doctors and scientists, even taking it upon himself to study regenerative medicine. Yet he'd never heard of any nation possessing prosthetic technology as advanced as vibranium-based limbs.

If such a nation truly existed, how could it have remained obscure for so long? A technology of this caliber could revolutionize the global medical landscape.

The man in uniform chuckled at Connors' doubts and continued, "Dr. Connors, have you ever heard of a small African country called Wakanda?"

Connors thought for a moment. "Yes, it's a small nation," he replied.

"Its production techniques and scientific development are extremely backward. It's considered a third-world country."

The term "third-world country" referred to weaker nations ranked in the lowest tier globally, their positions precarious and often overlooked.

"You can't seriously be suggesting that Wakanda is the source of this prosthetic technology," Connors said, unable to suppress his incredulity.

If Wakanda truly possessed such advanced medical technology, it wouldn't be relegated to the status of a minor African tribal nation.

"In time, you'll understand," the man replied cryptically. "For now, I can't tell you much more."

The man shifted the subject slightly and added, "Within Hydra, there's one other individual using a vibranium prosthetic arm besides you."

"But this person is currently in cryogenic stasis. I believe it won't be long before the two of you meet."

Hearing this piqued Connors' interest. Finding someone like himself felt oddly reassuring, and he immediately asked, "What's his name?"

"He no longer has a name," the man said with a grin.

"Within Hydra, he's only known by a codename..."

"Winter Soldier!"

...

Inside Stark Tower

Tony returned to his lab. "Jarvis, how long will this decryption take?"

"Approximately two hours, sir."

"Okay, I want all the files on S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel—every detail you can get."

"Understood, sir."

Just then, Bruce Banner walked in through another door, a hint of curiosity on his face. "Tony, are you trying to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s system again? What are you up to this time?"

After the Battle of New York, Banner had nowhere to go, so he decided to stay at Stark Tower. At least there, he had a great research environment to continue studying the Hulk within him.

Tony glanced at Banner. "I'm guessing you've heard about the Emperor situation."

"Of course. This country works that way, doesn't it? Sometimes you just have to get used to it."

As someone who had once been a top scientist, Banner was all too familiar with the darker side of the nation. While he had seen the reports about the Emperor that morning, he hadn't given them much thought.

"Naturally," Tony continued. "If it were just baseless rumors, I wouldn't be too concerned."

Banner caught the nuance in Tony's tone. "You're saying there's more to this?"

Tony nodded, brushing his hand lightly across the workstation. The article defaming the Emperor was immediately projected in front of them.

"I've had Jarvis classify these video records as top secret because I know the Emperor doesn't want to draw too much attention. But within a day, all the data was stolen."

"So you suspect S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Banner asked. It made sense—few organizations besides S.H.I.E.L.D. had the capability and audacity to pull off something like that.

"That was my initial thought," Tony admitted. "Until Jarvis intercepted this."

Tony pulled out his private phone and handed it to Banner, who read the message. His expression grew serious.

"Nick Fury suspects there are spies within S.H.I.E.L.D. and wants your help to investigate?"

"Exactly. So, I paid S.H.I.E.L.D. a visit. Publicly had a fallout with Fury and discreetly planted a decryption program into their mainframe."

Banner looked surprised. "That doesn't sound like you at all. Honestly, I thought you didn't care whether S.H.I.E.L.D. lived or died."

Tony took a deep breath. "I didn't, at first. But things are different now—after all, it's part of my dad's legacy."

"My condolences..." Banner said sympathetically.

The tragic death of the Starks in a car crash had shocked the entire scientific community, and Banner was well aware of the impact it had on Tony. He knew this was a wound that might never truly heal.

"Do you have any leads so far?" Banner asked, changing the subject.

"Not yet. Jarvis is still decrypting, but we should have results in two hours."

"It's ironic, isn't it? A spy agency infiltrated by spies." Tony smirked. "When we catch them, maybe I'll ask Nick Fury if he's considered resigning."

Banner raised an eyebrow. "You know, Tony, I never realized you had a sense of humor."

"I always have," Banner replied with a faint smile. "It's just... well, things changed."

Banner didn't elaborate, but Tony understood. Ever since Banner became the Hulk, he'd had to keep a tight rein on his emotions to prevent disastrous outbursts.

"If you help me catch whoever's behind these rumors about the Emperor," Tony said, "you might get a chance to ask him how he controls the Hulk."

Banner's eyes lit up. He immediately moved closer to Tony's workstation. "Maybe I can help you crack S.H.I.E.L.D.'s system…"

---

Elsewhere

"Rumlow…"

Alan studied the profile of the Hydra spy randomly pulled up by the Red Queen. He'd never met the man in person, but he was familiar with him.

Crossbones, one of Hydra's notorious agents, was famous for his iconic elevator fight with Captain America in the Marvel films.

"Let's start with you," Alan muttered. "A dying organization like Hydra? Let me give you a final push into oblivion..."

---

S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters

In a lounge, Brock Rumlow was doing pull-ups, sweat soaking through his thin shirt. As the captain of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Strike Team, he didn't usually need to take on covert operations like most agents. His assignments typically involved high-stakes counterterrorism missions.

A faint "beep-beep-beep" came from under his pillow.

Rumlow's expression shifted. He let go of the pull-up bar, walked to his bed, and retrieved a communicator hidden beneath the pillow.

He glanced at the encrypted message displayed on the screen, and a slight smirk appeared on his face.

"Nick Fury..."

"Your days are numbered..."

—(To be continued)—