Zola moved to another cabinet, revealing what appeared to be a partial suit of armor designed to fit a human form. Unlike conventional military equipment, this creation seemed to blur the line between technology and art. Its surfaces were smooth and curved, incorporating design elements that suggested organic growth rather than mechanical assembly.
"The prototype incorporates Tesseract energy matrices for power, enhanced subject regeneration principles for self-repair, and mechanical systems reverse-engineered from G.I. Robot's construction," Zola explained. "A soldier wearing this would be virtually immune to conventional weapons while possessing strength and speed that approach divine levels."
Ares raised an eyebrow. "Enhanced subject regeneration principles?"
"Indeed," Zola said, glancing toward Wilhelm's examination table. "Our test subject possesses remarkable healing capabilities. I've been studying his cellular regeneration patterns and incorporating those principles into the armor's self-repair systems. Of course, now that we know his true nature, the applications become far more significant."
"How many could you produce?" Ares inquired, his tactical mind already calculating military applications.
"With current resources and given the complexity of the systems involved, perhaps a dozen per month," Zola replied. "However, if we were to implement Mephisto's enhancement program for our soldiers, the production requirements would become significantly more manageable."
"How so?" Schmidt asked.
"Because these mechanical contraptions are unnecessary when you have access to Hell's legions," Mephisto said with a dismissive wave. "Demons require no such crude augmentation to achieve superhuman capabilities. Why waste months building toys when I can transform fifty soldiers in a single night? The enhanced armor would be reserved for unit commanders and specialists, while the bulk of our forces would gain their improvements through infernal enhancement. Far more efficient."
Zemo stepped closer to examine the prototype armor. "The psychological impact would be devastating to enemy morale. Imagine their reaction to facing opponents who appear to be mechanical monsters, backed by units that seem immune to their weapons."
"Terror is a weapon as powerful as any gun," Ares agreed. "An enemy who breaks before the battle begins has already lost."
Schmidt moved to the window overlooking the factory floor, watching the prisoner laborers continue their desperate work under HYDRA supervision. "Your proposal has merit, Mephisto. We'll begin with a test group of fifty volunteers from our most elite units."
"Excellent," Mephisto replied with evident satisfaction. "And in exchange, I'll require periodic access to both specimens for my own research purposes."
"What kind of research?" Zola asked, his scientific curiosity balanced against protective instincts regarding his subjects.
"The mechanical soldier represents principles of artificial life creation that even Hell's laboratories haven't mastered," Mephisto admitted. "Understanding how consciousness can be implanted in mechanical frameworks could prove invaluable for creating more sophisticated demonic vessels."
He turned toward Balder's examination table. "As for the Asgardian, his divine nature offers insights into power structures that predate human civilization. Such knowledge could prove crucial when my ambitions expand beyond merely ruling Hell."
"You intend to challenge other supernatural hierarchies," Ares observed. It wasn't a question.
"Eventually," Mephisto confirmed without hesitation. "But first, the immediate objectives. Your war provides the foundation for all our larger ambitions."
Schmidt nodded agreement. "Then we are in accord. Zola, prepare the first group of volunteers for Mephisto's enhancement process. Zemo, accelerate production of your improved serum and the adhesive weapons."
"YOU'RE ALL DEAD MEN!" G.I. Robot shouted from his table. "WHEN THE ALLIES GET HERE, THEY'RE GONNA BURN THIS PLACE TO THE GROUND!"
"Speaking of infrastructure," Zemo interjected, "what about the other HYDRA facilities? Baron von Strucker's operations in Sokovia, my own facilities in Bavaria, the weapons development sites in Poland and Romania?"
"All will be brought into full coordination with our enhanced development programs," Schmidt confirmed. "This facility serves as the primary research hub, but implementation will be distributed across our entire network."
"That level of coordination will require unprecedented security measures," Mephisto pointed out. "Knowledge of our supernatural alliances cannot become widespread among normal HYDRA personnel."
"Agreed," Schmidt nodded. "Enhanced soldiers will believe their improvements come from advanced scientific procedures. Only senior leadership will know the true nature of our alliance."
"Compartmentalization," Ares approved. "Essential for operational security when dealing with forces that most mortals cannot comprehend."
"One additional consideration," Zola said quietly. "The psychological effects on our enhanced personnel. Soldiers who undergo demonic transformation will retain their memories and personalities, but they'll be fundamentally changed by the process. How do we ensure their continued loyalty?"
"Loyalty becomes irrelevant when service is binding at the soul level," Mephisto explained with casual cruelty. "Once transformed, they'll be incapable of betraying HYDRA even if they wished to. The enhancement creates dependencies that ensure absolute obedience."
Schmidt moved to the laboratory's central control station, bringing up displays that showed the status of multiple HYDRA facilities across occupied Europe. Each location pulsed with activity indicators, showing production levels, security status, and research progress.
"Within months, HYDRA will field forces unlike anything the world has ever seen," he announced. "Enhanced soldiers backed by cosmic weaponry, supported by technology decades ahead of current capabilities."
"The war enters its next phase," Mephisto agreed, his perfect features showing satisfaction.
"The eternal phase," Ares added, his ancient eyes reflecting visions of conflicts that would span centuries.
As if summoned by their words, a HYDRA communications officer entered the laboratory, saluting crisply before delivering his report.
"Herr Schmidt, we've received priority signals from multiple facilities. Baron von Strucker reports completion of his Sokovia operations and requests coordination for continental deployment. The Romanian weapons facility has exceeded production quotas by forty percent and awaits enhanced material shipments. Most significantly, our perimeter defenses detected an unidentified aircraft approaching our airspace earlier tonight."
"What kind of aircraft?" Schmidt demanded.
"Unknown configuration, sir. It approached within five kilometers of our outer perimeter before turning back toward Allied territory. Our fighters were scrambled but could not intercept before it disappeared into the night."
Schmidt's expression hardened. "Reconnaissance?"
"Possibly, sir. The aircraft's flight pattern suggests it was probing our defenses rather than attempting infiltration. Our analysts believe it may have been testing our response capabilities."
"Increase security protocols," Schmidt ordered. "Double the perimeter patrols and activate all automated defense systems. If they're testing us, we'll be ready."
"Understood, sir."
As the officer departed, Schmidt turned back to his supernatural allies. "It appears the Allies are becoming bolder. All the more reason to accelerate our enhancement programs."
"Let them probe," Ares said with cold satisfaction. "When they finally work up the courage to face us directly, they'll discover what real power looks like."
"Indeed," Mephisto agreed. "There's nothing I enjoy more than crushing hope in those who believe themselves righteous."
The laboratory fell silent except for the humming of machinery and the distant sounds of the factory floor below. In that moment, three mortals and two supernatural entities finalized plans that would reshape the nature of warfare itself.
"MARK MY WORDS, YOU NAZI SONS OF BITCHES!" G.I. Robot's voice echoed one final time through the laboratory. "SOMEONE'S GONNA COME FOR US! AND WHEN THEY DO, YOU'RE ALL GONNA PAY!"
Outside, searchlights continued their vigilant sweeps, now supplemented by additional patrols as HYDRA prepared for whatever threat might be approaching through the Austrian night.
—
The makeshift arena buzzed with anticipation as HYDRA officers filled the wooden bleachers. Cigarette smoke drifted through harsh floodlights while guards placed final bets. At the center of it all stood Hauptmann Weber, a theatrical man who had turned prisoner combat into the camp's main entertainment.
Weber grabbed a megaphone and stepped into the arena. "Gentlemen! Tonight we have a special match for your enjoyment!"
The crowd quieted as Weber strutted around the dirt circle like a carnival barker. "In one corner, captured August 15th, we have the current champion! Eighty days undefeated! The man they call WILDCAT!"
Guards shoved Ted Grant into the arena. At twenty-eight, the heavyweight boxer still carried himself like a fighter despite weeks of captivity. His massive frame showed the punishment of previous fights, but his eyes held the steady confidence of someone who had never stayed down. The crowd cheered as Grant raised his wrapped hands.
"And in the other corner," Weber continued, "captured October 25th, fighting for the first time after nine days of... observation... the man our guards have nicknamed SAVAGE!"
Logan was pushed forward, and the crowd's reaction was different. Nervous murmurs rippled through the stands. Everyone had heard the stories. Wounds that healed too fast. Screams from the medical wing when they tried to study him. Guards who came back from his cell looking shaken.
Weber's voice dropped for dramatic effect. "Gentlemen, the rules are simple. Only one man leaves this arena alive!"
The crowd roared. HYDRA officers leaned forward in the front row, placing final bets and shouting encouragement. This match had been specifically arranged to test the new prisoner against their established champion.
Logan and Grant faced each other in the center of the arena. Up close, Grant could see why the guards called him Savage. Logan moved like something barely contained, his muscles coiled with violent potential.
"Nothing personal, Wildcat," Logan said quietly.
"Same here, Savage," Grant replied. "But I ain't planning on dying tonight."
Weber raised his hand. "BEGIN!"
Grant came out boxing, using his reach advantage to snap quick jabs at Logan's head. His footwork was textbook perfect, maintaining distance while looking for openings. The crowd appreciated the technical skill.
Logan took the first few punches without attempting to block, studying Grant's rhythm. When the boxer threw a right cross, Logan ducked under and drove his fist into Grant's ribs. The impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting meat.
Grant grunted but didn't back down. He uppercut toward Logan's chin, catching him solid. Any normal man would have been unconscious. Logan just grinned and spit blood.
"That all you got, champ?" Logan asked.
Grant's eyes widened slightly. He had put everything behind that punch. Logan should be on the ground. Instead, he looked like the fight was just getting interesting.
Logan attacked with sudden violence. No technique, just raw aggression channeled through fists and elbows. Grant got his guard up but Logan was relentless. Body shots that would crack ribs. Head punches that rattled teeth. The boxer gave ground, trying to weather the storm.
When Logan overcommitted to a wild right hand, Grant slipped and countered with a left hook that caught Logan flush on the jaw. The sound echoed through the arena. Logan's head snapped sideways and he stumbled.
The crowd was on its feet. Grant pressed his advantage, working the body with precision combinations. Each punch landed exactly where he intended. Logan absorbed the punishment, his face already swelling from the impacts.
"Stay down," Grant muttered as he threw another combination.
Logan wiped blood from his mouth. "Not happening."
Logan charged like a bull, going low and wrapping his arms around Grant's waist. They crashed to the ground hard, dirt exploding around them. Logan scrambled to get on top but Grant bucked him off, both men rolling across the arena floor.
Grant got to his knees first and threw a wild punch. Logan caught his wrist and twisted, trying to break the boxer's arm. Grant roared and used his superior weight to drive Logan back down into the dirt.
They grappled in the dust, each trying to gain advantage. Logan wrapped his legs around Grant's waist and squeezed like a python. Grant's face went red as the air was crushed out of him. He grabbed Logan's hair and slammed his head into the ground once, twice, three times.
Logan's grip loosened. Grant broke free and scrambled to his feet, gasping. Logan rolled sideways and swept Grant's legs. The boxer went down hard but immediately kicked out, catching Logan in the ribs.
Both men climbed to their feet, circling again. Logan lunged forward with his hands reaching for Grant's throat. Grant stepped back and threw an uppercut that caught Logan clean under the chin. Logan's head snapped back but he kept coming forward.
Grant backed against the arena wall, throwing quick jabs to keep Logan at distance. Logan took three punches to the face without flinching, then grabbed Grant by the shirt and drove his knee up toward Grant's ribs. Grant twisted and took the knee on his hip instead.
The boxer grabbed Logan around the waist and ran forward, driving both of them into the opposite wall. Logan's back hit the wooden boards with a loud crack. Grant stepped back and threw a right cross that would have decapitated most men.
Logan ducked under the punch and wrapped his arms around Grant's waist again. This time he lifted the bigger man clean off the ground and slammed him down on his back. Grant's breath exploded out of him.
Logan dropped down, trying to pin Grant's arms. The boxer bridged up and rolled, throwing Logan off to the side. They both came up swinging.
Grant's left hook caught Logan on the temple. Logan stumbled but immediately came back with a right hand that split Grant's lip open. Blood poured down the boxer's chin but he kept his hands up.
Logan pressed forward, throwing wild punches that Grant blocked or slipped. Grant waited for an opening and threw a perfect combination. Jab, cross, hook. All three punches landed clean. Logan's head rocked back with each impact.
Then Logan stepped forward like nothing had happened.
"What the hell are you?" Grant breathed.
Logan answered by shooting forward and driving his knee up toward Grant's chin. Grant got his hands up just in time, the knee striking his forearms instead. Logan immediately grabbed Grant's head and tried to pull it down into another knee strike.
Grant straightened up and broke Logan's grip, then wrapped his arms around Logan's waist. He lifted and threw Logan backward in a wrestling slam that shook the entire arena.
Logan hit the ground and rolled away as Grant tried to stomp on his ribs. Logan came up and tackled Grant around the legs, dropping the boxer again. They rolled across the dirt, each man trying to get behind the other.
Logan managed to slip behind Grant and wrapped his arm around the boxer's throat. Grant's vision started to blur as the blood flow to his brain was cut off. The crowd leaned forward, sensing the end.
Weber raised his megaphone, ready to announce Logan's victory.
Grant grabbed Logan's arm with both hands and threw himself forward. Logan flew over Grant's shoulder and crashed hard into the arena floor, the impact driving all the air from his lungs.
Grant gasped and rolled to his feet, his throat raw from the chokehold. Logan pushed himself up more slowly, dirt covering his back. They faced each other again, both men bloodied and exhausted but neither willing to quit.
Logan's lips pulled back in a snarl, and suddenly he threw his head back and let out a sound that chilled every man in the arena. It wasn't human. It was the roar of something wild, something that belonged in deep forests, not a prison camp. The scream echoed off the walls, primal and terrifying.
"RAAAAGHHHHH!"
Grant's bloody knuckles, still wrapped in torn tape, clenched into fists. His own roar erupted from his chest, just as fierce, just as defiant. The sound of a fighter who had taken every beating they could give him and still stood up. The boxer's scream matched Logan's intensity, two predators refusing to back down.
"AAARRRRGHHHHH!"
"TIME!" Weber shouted over their roars.
Both fighters froze, still locked in their staring match. The crowd sat in stunned silence, unnerved by what they had just heard.
"Due to the exceptional nature of this match," Weber announced, his voice slightly shaken, "both fighters will be transferred for extended medical observation!"
Guards moved in cautiously to separate the combatants. Logan's eyes found Grant's as they were pulled apart.
"This ain't over," Logan said.
"Wouldn't expect it to be," Grant replied, spitting blood.
As they were led away, a HYDRA officer approached Weber. "The Canadian's healing rate is beyond normal parameters. Command wants him in the isolation ward for further study."
"And the boxer?"
"Isolation ward as well. After eighty days of fighting, his ability to withstand punishment is remarkable. They want to know how he keeps getting back up."
—
Austrian Alps - November 1943
The darkness between the pine trees felt alive, shifting and moving just beyond the edge of their vision. Steve held up his fist, bringing the group to a halt as they crouched behind a fallen log. The HYDRA facility glowed in the distance like a malevolent eye, its searchlights sweeping across the mountainside with mechanical precision.
"Something's been following us for the last half mile," Steve whispered, his enhanced hearing picking up the subtle sounds of movement that shouldn't be there. "Staying parallel to our route."
Diana's hand moved instinctively to the Godkiller's hilt. "I sense it too. One person, moving with extraordinary skill."
"Friend or foe?" Alan asked quietly, his ring beginning to glow with soft green light.
"Unknown," Steve replied, scanning the treeline. "But we're about to find out."
Jay vibrated slightly, his enhanced speed making him ready to move in any direction. "Want me to circle around, flush them out?"
"No. Stay together." Steve adjusted his grip on the shield. "If they wanted us dead, they've had plenty of opportunities. This feels like evaluation."
Jim's flames flickered to life around his synthetic fingers, casting dancing shadows on the forest floor. "Evaluation of what?"
Before anyone could answer, a figure dropped from the canopy above. The man was tall and powerfully built, wearing black armor with a high collar and a stylized panther mask. A dark cape hung from his shoulders. As he landed in a crouch, retractable claws extended from his gauntlets with a sharpsnikt.
Without warning, without words, the figure launched himself directly at Steve.
The Captain barely got his lightweight prop shield up in time. The stranger's claws sparked against the painted steel, and with a casual backhand, he swatted the shield aside like it was a toy. The shield spun away into the trees, leaving Steve empty handed and off balance.
"Son of a bitch," Steve muttered, staring at his empty hands.
"What the hell!" Jay exclaimed, but the masked figure was already moving. He spun low, sweeping Jay's legs before the speedster could react. As Jay went down, the stranger drove an elbow into his ribs, then grabbed the back of Jay's helmet and slammed his face into a pine tree. "Nice costume, kitty cat! Very dramatic with the OWWW!"
The stranger backhanded Jay across the clearing like he weighed nothing.
"Okay, that hurt," Jay groaned from where he landed.
The figure rolled backward from Jay's position, came up in a crouch, and immediately launched himself at Steve again. He feinted high with his right claw, drew Steve's hands up to block, then drove his left fist into Steve's solar plexus. As Steve doubled over, the stranger grabbed his shoulders and brought his knee up toward Steve's face. Steve barely got his hands up in time.
"Stand down!" Steve grunted, catching the knee strike. "We're not HYDRA!"
The masked figure said nothing. He twisted out of Steve's grip, spun behind him, and drove both claws toward Steve's kidneys. Steve twisted away, the claws gouging deep furrows in a pine tree instead.
Diana drew the Godkiller. "Enough! We are not your enemies!"
The figure's head snapped toward her. He studied her armor, her stance, the divine weapon in her hands. Then he moved.
Diana brought her sword up to parry, but the stranger ducked under her swing, swept her legs, and as she fell backward, caught her wrist and twisted until she dropped the Godkiller. She hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of her.
"How did you..." Diana gasped.
The stranger was already moving toward Jim. The synthetic man launched himself into the air, flames trailing behind him, but the figure leaped impossibly high to meet him. Mid-air, he grabbed Jim's arm, used his momentum to spin, and hurled the android into the ground with enough force to crater the earth.
"That's not possible," Jim said, pushing himself out of the hole.
Alan's ring blazed green. "Look, whoever you are, we don't have time for this!" He created a massive boxing glove construct and swung it at the stranger.
The figure dropped flat against the ground, let the construct pass over him, then sprang up and grabbed the green energy with his bare hands. For a moment, Alan's construct held. Then the stranger's grip tightened and the green light began to crack.
"What... how are you doing that?" Alan stammered.
The construct shattered. The stranger rushed Alan, ducked under a hastily formed barrier, and drove his palm into Alan's chest. The young man flew backward into a tree, his ring flickering.
Jay tried again, blurring around the stranger at super speed. But the figure stood perfectly still, head tracking Jay's movement like he was walking instead of running. When Jay came in for a strike, the stranger's hand shot out and clotheslined him at full speed. Jay flipped completely over and crashed face first into the dirt.
"This guy's tracking me like I'm standing still," Jay wheezed.
Steve went to retrieve his shield from where it had landed. The stranger was there first, picking up the lightweight prop and examining it with obvious disdain. He tossed it back to Steve underhand, like he was throwing a frisbee to a child.
"What is this supposed to be?" the stranger asked, speaking for the first time, his voice carrying a distinctive African accent.
Steve caught his shield, face reddening. "It's... it's what I've got."
The stranger tilted his head, studying the painted metal with obvious disdain. "Pathetic." He tossed the shield back at Steve's feet and turned away dismissively.
Diana rolled to her feet and lunged for the Godkiller. The stranger spun around, stepped on the blade to pin it down. When Diana tried to pull it free, he grabbed her by the armor and threw her into Alan, sending both of them tumbling.
Jim came at him from behind, synthetic hands wreathed in flame. The stranger seemed to sense him coming without looking. He dropped to one knee, swept Jim's legs, then rose with an uppercut that sent the android flying twenty feet through the air.
The stranger turned back to Steve, who charged forward without his shield. They collided hard, Steve's enhanced strength meeting the stranger's own power. Steve managed to grab the stranger's wrists, pushing the extended claws away from his face as they grappled for position.
"What the hell are you?" Steve grunted, straining against the stranger's grip.
The two men wrestled, their boots digging into the forest floor as each tried to overpower the other. Steve's muscles bulged with effort, his enhanced physiology finally meeting its match. The stranger's claws retracted as they focused on pure strength, neither able to gain a decisive advantage.
Diana managed to recover and grabbed the stranger's shoulder, trying to pull him off Steve. "Release him!"
But even with Diana's help, the stranger held his ground, his attention split between the two opponents pressing him from different angles. Sweat beaded on all their faces as the three-way struggle continued.
"Azzuri!" came a sharp feminine voice from the shadows, carrying absolute authority and clear irritation. "That's enough!"
The masked figure straightened but didn't relax. "They were coordinating like a tactical unit," he said. "Enhanced individuals working in precise formations. I've seen HYDRA's new soldiers move the same way."
"Certain of what?" Steve gasped, very aware that this guy had just taken apart their entire team without breaking a sweat.
A woman emerged from behind the pine trees, moving with the fluid grace of a natural hunter. She was tall and athletic, her dark hair flowing freely around her shoulders. She wore form fitting brown leather that seemed to shift and change in the moonlight, the intricate beadwork catching glints of silver. Most striking was the distinctive necklace at her throat, its central pendant shaped like a stylized animal totem that seemed to pulse with inner light.
"I am Amaya Jiwe, Queen of Zambesi," she announced, her accent carrying the musical tones of East Africa. "And you're clearly not HYDRA."
The masked figure studied Steve's face for a long moment, then slowly retracted his claws and reached up to remove his panther mask. He revealed the face of a man in his thirties with strong features and intelligent eyes that held depths of experience far beyond his apparent years.
"I am Azzuri, King of Wakanda," he said simply.
"King?" Steve repeated, staring at him in disbelief. "You're an actual king? What the hell is a king doing here?"
"I came here to ensure HYDRA's weapons research doesn't threaten the African continent," Azzuri replied grimly.
Jay spat out pine needles and pulled himself to his feet. "Okay, great cause and all, but if you're here to stop the same bad guys we are, why did you just kick all our asses?"
"Because HYDRA has started sending operatives with advanced weapons disguised as Allied forces," Azzuri explained, his expression grim. "Soldiers carrying technology far beyond what should be possible. They infiltrate resistance operations and sabotage them from within. I had to be certain you weren't among them."
"So you decided to test us by trying to kill us?" Alan asked, his ring still flickering weakly.
"If you were HYDRA agents, you would be dead," Amaya said matter of factly. "The fact that you're still breathing means you passed."
"Your methods are harsh but understandable," Diana said, studying both rulers with her warrior's instincts. "In times of war, trust must be earned, not given freely."
"Precisely why we've been watching this facility for months," Amaya said, gesturing toward the distant complex. "I rule Zambesi, he rules Wakanda. When HYDRA's operations began threatening African territories, we coordinated our response."
"You've been monitoring them?" Steve asked.
"Our intelligence operatives have been tracking HYDRA operations across North Africa and the Mediterranean," Amaya confirmed. "What we've learned is disturbing."
Jim pushed himself out of his crater, synthetic features showing confusion. "Wait, if your kingdoms are hidden, how do you even know about HYDRA?"
"Because hiding doesn't mean ignorance," Amaya replied simply. "Our nations have remained concealed from Western awareness, but we cannot remain isolated when unnatural forces threaten the continent we call home."
"Unnatural forces?" Alan's ring pulsed with responsive energy. "You mean their weapons?"
Azzuri nodded grimly. "We know about weapons that should not exist, young lantern bearer. The question is what you intend to do with such knowledge."
Steve made a decision. "Look, we can sort out territorial politics later. Right now, our friends are in that prison, probably being tortured or worse. Are you going to help us or not?"
"You misunderstand our purpose here," Amaya said, her necklace beginning to glow with soft amber light. "We are not here to debate. We are here to ensure that HYDRA's operations end tonight."
"And to evaluate whether your group can be trusted with what you will find inside that facility," Azzuri added. "The weapons and technology HYDRA has developed pose threats beyond your understanding."
"Then help us understand," Diana said earnestly. "We seek knowledge as much as rescue."
Amaya and Azzuri exchanged meaningful looks, some form of silent communication passing between them. Finally, Amaya nodded.
"Very well," she said. "But know this. What you discover tonight must not fall into the wrong hands. There are powers at work here that could reshape the nature of warfare itself."
"Understood," Steve replied. "So what's the plan?"
"I came to eliminate the facility entirely," Azzuri said. "Leave no trace of their research, no evidence of their capabilities. Clean, surgical destruction."
"What about the prisoners?" Jim asked.
Azzuri's expression hardened. "Acceptable casualties in service of the greater good. HYDRA's weapons could kill millions if they're not stopped here."
"No," Steve said firmly, his shield back in his hand. "We don't abandon our people. Ever."
"Your sentiment is admirable," Azzuri replied, "but naive. Sometimes the needs of many outweigh the needs of few."
"Not today," Diana declared, the Godkiller still ready in her hands. "We save everyone, or we save no one."
The tension stretched between them like a wire about to snap. Two very different approaches to the same problem, two sets of values that seemed incompatible.
Amaya stepped between them with a knowing smile. "Perhaps we can accomplish both objectives. Save the prisoners and destroy the facility."
"How?" Alan asked, his ring still glowing with defensive energy.
"Together," Amaya replied simply. "My husband's knowledge of the facility combined with your rescue capabilities. We extract your people, gather intelligence about their weapons research, then reduce the entire complex to rubble."
Azzuri looked skeptical. "Coordination between unknown forces is risky. We don't know their capabilities, their methods, their reliability under pressure."
"Oh, come now," Amaya said with a teasing tone, placing a hand on his arm. "You just spent ten minutes testing their capabilities very thoroughly. What more do you need?"
"That was combat assessment, not tactical coordination," Azzuri protested, though his tone was already softening.
"And they held their own against the great King of Wakanda himself," Amaya continued with mock reverence. "Surely that earns them some consideration?"
Steve watched this exchange with growing amusement. "Are you two really having a marital debate right now?"
"She does this," Azzuri said with resignation, though there was warmth in his voice. "Uses logic and flattery to get her way."
"It works, doesn't it?" Amaya replied with a grin.
Azzuri sighed, looking at Steve and his battered team. "Very well. But if this goes wrong, I'm blaming you."
"Wouldn't dream of having it any other way," Amaya said sweetly, then turned to Steve. "Now then, shall we discuss how to infiltrate that fortress?"
"The trucks will be here soon," Azzuri observed, noting the distant approach of vehicle headlights through the forest. "We must move into position."
The group made their way carefully through the pine forest, using the shadows and terrain to mask their approach to the road leading to the HYDRA facility. The trucks were exactly where Azzuri had predicted, rumbling through the night with their cargo of supplies for the prison complex.
"Remember," Steve said quietly as they prepared to move, "we stick together. All of us. This place is too dangerous to split up, and we don't know what we're walking into."
"What about extracting the prisoners?" Diana asked.
"We'll figure that out once we know what we're dealing with inside," Steve replied. "First priority is finding our people and getting everyone out alive. Standard SERE protocol for extraction: northwest treeline, follow the creek bed to the rally point."