The Missiles Are Locked on Us!

"Commander, the missile system is malfunctioning!"

At a military base not far from New York City, a soldier stared at his screen in alarm and hastily reported the anomaly.

"What's happening?" Colonel Cole demanded, his brows furrowed.

"Sir, all missile systems have entered combat readiness mode and are calibrating their coordinates."

"And their target is… it's…"

The soldier hesitated, his throat tightening.

"What is it?" Cole snapped.

"The targets are… the Department of Defense headquarters, the White House, the World Trade Center in New York City, Stark Industries…"

Cole's legs gave out, and he collapsed into his chair, his face drained of color. These coordinates covered nearly every major landmark and critical institution in the country.

"What the hell is going on?! Shut it down now!" he roared.

"Sir… we've lost control of the missile system."

"We… we've been hacked."

The soldier's voice trembled as despair set in.

It wasn't just this base. Nearly every military installation on the East Coast had their missile systems locked in battle mode. If launched, the consequences would be apocalyptic.

…

Panic erupted inside the Department of Defense headquarters.

Secretary Gates clutched his chest, struggling to remain composed as he surveyed the chaos. The red dots flashing across the tactical screens were like grim reapers looming over the nation.

"Secretary, we've lost all contact with our military bases!"

"Sir, we're attempting to regain control!"

"New targets have been updated!"

"Our communications are completely jammed!"

Gates felt his heart pounding erratically. "Is there no countermeasure?!"

The desperate looks from his staff told him everything he needed to know.

Suddenly, the screens flickered, and a new map appeared. It was filled with red lines connecting various locations, each one leading directly to a designated strike zone.

Gates stared at the screen, his breath hitching.

"Where the hell did this intelligence come from?!" he bellowed.

"We don't know! We didn't update anything!"

"We haven't done anything at all!"

"Oh, dear God… what is happening?!"

The entire room was in chaos. The red strike paths on the screen felt like nooses tightening around their throats.

Then, another message appeared on the screen.

"I have shared the missile targeting data with you. If you dare attack the Baxter Building, I will ensure you face the same level of destruction."

"Now, both our sides have complete transparency. The final decision is in your hands."

"I am lifting your communication restrictions, but remember—I am always watching."

Gates stared at the words, his face pale with shock. The objects in his hands clattered to the floor.

Transparency? What transparency?!

They knew nothing about the enemy. The only thing they knew was that they were under a direct threat—one that could wipe their nation off the map.

Then, every emergency line inside the Pentagon rang simultaneously. Calls flooded in from every military base—communications were restored.

At S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Nick Fury could finally communicate with his field teams.

…

"Director, the Quinjet squadron is circling above us, and they've armed their weapons!"

Coulson's voice crackled through the channel, barely audible over the deafening roar of aircraft.

They were completely outmatched. The very weapons they once controlled were now aimed directly at them.

Fury clenched his jaw. "Hold your position! Do not engage! The enemy is still open to negotiation."

"I'll report to Secretary Pierce."

Truthfully, Fury had no idea what to do. They still didn't know who their adversary was or what exactly they meant by needing 'Reed's help.'

But he did know one thing—acting rashly would lead to absolute annihilation.

This had to be handled carefully.

...

Inside his neural network, Gene listened to the continuous pings of his system notifications, feeling immense satisfaction.

His infiltration of countless U.S. institutions was already yielding rewards.

["Congratulations! You have received 'God-Tier Multidisciplinary Knowledge'!"

"Expanding host's neural network…"

"Reward: Sample of Advanced Materials!"

"Reward: Original G-Virus Strain!"]

Gene smirked. His gains were beyond satisfying.

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T/N:

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