Nick Fury finally calmed Dugan, who was ready to keep grilling him, and the group pressed on.
Their plan was to head straight to the Director's office, copy S.H.I.E.L.D.'s dirtiest secrets from the computer, then split up to take out Pierce and secure key positions.
Splitting up with just four people was reckless. To put it another way:
It was like ten thousand soldiers dividing into ten thousand groups to storm an enemy camp of hundreds of thousands—downright comical.
The absurdity only grew when you scaled it up.
History proved splitting up in danger was a dumb move.
Like in a horror movie when the guy says, "I hear something—let's split up and check," you know he's next to die.
Coulson's broadcast had thrown things into chaos, but it bought Fury's team some breathing room.
Now, anyone still moving was almost certainly Hydra—no need to second-guess.
The group readied for combat, prepared to take down anyone who popped up and make a beeline for the office.
But climbing dozens of floors? Even for these agents, it wasn't a walk in the park.
"Damn it, I've never hated tech this much! Worse than facing tanks on the battlefield!"
Dugan grumbled under his breath, his voice a low growl.
He was starting to think he'd have no energy left for a fight by the time they reached Fury's office.
"What, you want to take the elevator and get gunned down by Hydra?"
Fury kept climbing, his tone flat.
That only pissed Dugan off more.
Hill and Sharon Carter, meanwhile, had sweat-soaked hair plastered to their foreheads. It looked… kinda alluring?
"We're running out of time. Coulson's broadcast froze everyone, but Hydra will regroup and move soon."
Dugan gripped his pistol, feeling off without his beloved gun.
"Then quit yapping and climb."
Fury, still in his trench coat, didn't show if he was drenched underneath.
Maybe his whole getup was designed to hide his condition.
On the other side, Rumlow, Natasha, and May marched toward Pierce's office.
This floor was bustling with staff, mostly techs, not fighters.
Even if some were Hydra, they couldn't stop the trio.
"Rumlow, you planning to take that bastard out directly?"
Natasha smiled, as if not smiling would be out of character.
"I'm taking out a whole pack of bastards, not just one."
Rumlow strode forward, his pace quickening.
He felt the first step of his redemption nearing, and he was itching to get it done.
"Fair. Bastards always come in packs."
May toyed with the brass knuckles, feeling the power they fed her.
Rumlow had no use for them anymore—after getting the Ancestor's Bracers, they were just dead weight.
But for May, a skilled fighter, they could boost her already formidable combat ability.
Her performance in the elevator had earned her some respect from Rumlow, the legendary Cavalry.
The spirit stone? Rumlow kept that to himself.
Despite Fury vouching for Natasha, Rumlow didn't trust her.
Or rather, he didn't trust Fury, so Black Widow, who he'd only met briefly, got no goodwill either.
"First, we hit Fury's office. That's likely their first stop too."
Rumlow eyed the office ahead and gave the order.
His rank didn't outstrip Black Widow or the Cavalry, but who cared about S.H.I.E.L.D. hierarchy now?
Secure Fury's office, then deal with Pierce.
Rumlow's goal wasn't just Pierce—it was every bastard in S.H.I.E.L.D., top to bottom.
Fury's office wasn't a vault of secrets. People came and went with reports; any sensitive info would've been spotted long ago.
The real secrets were on Fury's computer.
Every S.H.I.E.L.D. computer could access data with the right clearance, but extracting it required either photos, handwritten notes, or direct access to Fury's machine or the server—with his personal authorization.
Rumlow wasn't there for the data. He wanted control of the office for the next phase.
But it wasn't empty. Pierce sat in Fury's swivel chair, spinning lazily.
Not out of some nostalgic childhood whimsy—he was thinking, biding his time.
The cameras couldn't spot Fury's team with their jammer, but Rumlow's arrival was right under his nose.
Pierce was confident he could sway Rumlow. They'd been close once.
As for Black Widow and the Cavalry? He didn't see them as Fury's diehards.
Natasha carried the lingering stain of her red past, never fully trusted by S.H.I.E.L.D. She had access to secrets but less clout than a Level 5 agent.
What kind of ace spends their days infiltrating lowlife groups for intel?
And the Cavalry? She'd humiliated Fury to his face. She bowed to no one.
In Hydra's view, everyone had a weakness.
Some just hid it better.
For May, a little girl was her soft spot.
Show "evidence" that Fury had manipulated that girl, and the righteous Cavalry would crumble.
Pierce was plotting how to get Rumlow to spill the secret of his newfound strength. Hydra needed it to become greater.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in, Rumlow, Natasha, and Melinda."
Pierce called out their names without turning.
But there was no response, only the sound of the door opening.
Pierce spun around—and nearly threw out his old back when he saw who walked in.
(End of Chapter)
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