Destroying the Base
Outside New York City, a S.H.I.E.L.D. base was suddenly engulfed in chaos as blaring red alarms echoed throughout the facility.
"S-Class Danger! S-Class Danger! All personnel evacuate immediately! You have ten minutes!"
The emergency broadcast rang through the base, sending waves of panic through the staff.
"What the hell is going on?!"
"An S-Class alert?! Are you kidding me?!"
"Oh my god—RUN!"
"Get the hell out of here!"
Despite the growing sense of dread, the base's personnel remained disciplined. Within seven minutes, the entire staff had evacuated.
Just as the last vehicle sped away, a barrage of missiles streaked through the sky, leaving long trails of smoke behind them.
The next moment—
BOOM!
A series of deafening explosions tore through the base, engulfing it in a massive fireball. Flames erupted into the sky as the ground trembled from the sheer force of the blasts.
Everything—the infrastructure, high-tech facilities, and classified equipment—was reduced to nothing but burning wreckage.
In S.H.I.E.L.D.'s command center, a tense silence filled the air as an agent reported the devastating news.
"D-Director... our base outside New York has been completely destroyed."
"The missiles were launched from a military base outside the city."
Maria Hill took a deep breath before delivering this grim update.
Nick Fury's face darkened as he clenched his fists. They were being toyed with. No matter what they did, their enemy was always one step ahead.
"Any casualties?" he asked, his voice heavy.
"None reported so far. All personnel managed to evacuate three minutes before impact."
Hill's words provided some relief, but it wasn't enough to ease the crushing weight on Fury's shoulders.
"Damn it..."
He exhaled sharply, feeling the overwhelming frustration of being completely outmatched.
"Tell Coulson not to make any rash moves. Under no circumstances should he provoke Gene Mason."
Fury gave the order, his voice laced with resignation.
Meanwhile, over at the Department of Defense, Secretary Gates issued the exact same command.
When the missiles had been detected, the defense systems attempted to intercept them. However, they soon realized that their advanced security network had already been hacked.
The anti-missile systems, built with billions of dollars in funding, were completely useless.
If another country declared war on the United States at this moment, they wouldn't even be able to defend themselves.
The horrifying reality forced the Department of Defense to issue an emergency directive—Do not engage the enemy under any circumstances. Do not provoke the lunatic inside the Baxter Building.
...
Outside the Baxter Building, Coulson and his team received the new orders. Although reluctant, they knew this was the best course of action.
Instead of launching an assault, they set up a perimeter around the building, monitoring every movement from the outside.
But the conditions were far from ideal.
With numerous fighter jets and helicopters patrolling the airspace, the deafening roar of engines filled the sky, making it impossible for anyone to get a moment's peace.
Meanwhile, reporters had gathered in massive numbers, forming a wall of cameras and microphones just beyond the barricades.
"As you can see, we're now just outside the Baxter Building, where the terrorists inside continue to hold their ground."
"This is National News Television, reporting live from the scene—"
"Despite the overwhelming military presence, why haven't the authorities launched a full-scale assault?"
"There are over a thousand innocent civilians trapped inside! I ask the authorities—why are they wasting time instead of rescuing them?!"
...
As the media scrambled to cover the situation, millions of Americans tuned in to watch the live broadcast.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Why is there no movement from the authorities?"
"Are they just going to sit there?!"
"Why aren't they saving those people?!"
Just as public outrage began to build—
BZZT—
Suddenly, every single television screen flickered, then went black.
The broadcast was hijacked.
Then, an icy, mechanical voice rang through every device, sending chills down the spines of those who heard it.
"I do not appreciate being filmed."
"Remove all reporters from the area—immediately."
...
Back at the scene, a squadron of attack helicopters suddenly broke formation, descending toward the journalists below.
With their weapons systems armed and ready, the message was clear—leave, or face the consequences.
The reporters, who had been fearless just moments ago, instantly lost their nerve.
"T-The helicopters are targeting us?!"
"Wait—aren't they supposed to be going after the terrorists?!"
"HOLY SH*T! RUN!"
"MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"
Their bravado vanished. Every journalist abandoned their equipment and fled the scene as fast as they could.
From a distance, Coulson watched this unfold, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"Get rid of them. Now."
Following his orders, law enforcement quickly stepped in to escort the remaining reporters away.
Once every journalist had been removed, the helicopters silently returned to their patrol routes, as if nothing had happened.
Coulson wiped his brow. That was close.
If he hadn't acted quickly, those reporters might have been wiped out in an instant.
One thing was becoming terrifyingly clear—Gene Mason wasn't bluffing.
This wasn't some amateur hacker or wannabe terrorist.
This was an unstoppable force.
And right now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was nothing more than a bunch of pawns on his chessboard.
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