Stark Industries' private jet, guided by the Web, slipped quietly into Sokovian airspace.
Below, endless mountain ranges lay buried beneath a thick quilt of snow, like some ancient beast slumbering across the horizon. The howling wind whipped icy flakes through the sky, turning the land into something bleak and deathly still.
And at the peak of one mountain stood the Hydra castle — a malignant growth on the beast's forehead. Gothic and out of place amidst the pristine white, it radiated nothing but menace.
"I take back what I said earlier." Henry peered out the window at the looming silhouette, half-hidden by the blizzard, and curled his lip. "That's not a vampire vacation villa. More like a foreclosed demon lord's second-hand haunted house, repossessed because he couldn't pay rent. You can smell the stench of failure in the air from here."
"Your metaphors never fail to impress," Tony said dryly, sipping from a steaming mug of coffee. He joined Henry at the window. "But I'll agree with the last part. Hydra's nothing but a pack of losers rotting in history's trash heap. Hiding in shadows, clinging to delusions of rebuilding their pathetic little empire."
He drained a sip and snapped his fingers. The cabin lit up with another holographic projection — a live diagram of the castle's power flow and defense grid.
"Tour's over," Tony said, voice sharpening. "Time to get to work, little brother. Remember the plan. Follow my lead. No improvisation, no caveman solutions. Leave that brute-force routine of yours at the door."
"You mean your over-engineered, pompous, art-show strategy?" Henry arched a brow. "Come on, Tony. We're here to demolish, not model for a catwalk. My plan's simple: I drop down, punch that ugly heap off the mountain, then we go back and eat burgers. Efficient."
"That's not efficiency, that's barbarism!" Tony shot back, his voice rising. "We're Starks! We embody intelligence, the pinnacle of technology! Every action should be a surgical strike, a showcase of brilliance! Not a bull smashing its way through!"
"We're dealing with Nazi scum." Henry shrugged. "Trash doesn't deserve elegance. Ever heard the saying? Best way to deal with a mad dog is with a bigger stick. Hit it once, kill it dead. I'm that stick."
"No, I'm the stick." Tony jabbed a finger at himself, dead serious. "A stick forged by genius and style, thank you very much. And you…" He gave Henry a once-over. "At best, you're a brick. A hard one, sure. But still a brick."
Henry: "…"
Before he could shoot back about how bricks hurt more up close, the jet's rear hatch began to lower. Bitter air blasted inside, carrying swirling flurries with it.
"Save the banter." Tony's voice came through comms. He was already at the hatch, wristband unfolding into streams of red-gold nanites that rippled across him. In less than two seconds, Iron Man stood in his gleaming armor.
"Keep up, Mr. Brick." His voice rang through the helmet speakers. "Time to deliver a 21st-century greeting to these relics of the past."
Henry shook his head, amused, as his own black wristband activated. A storm of dense nanites swept over him, sealing him inside a sleek, oppressive suit of armor.
"Right behind you, Traffic Light."
And then they leapt.
Two streaks of light tore through the storm, plunging from ten thousand meters like cannon shells toward the waiting castle.
Flying like this was second nature. Tony led the way, a red-gold comet burning against the bleak white.
"Jarvis. Initiate Cavity Protocol," Tony ordered coolly.
From his armor's back, dozens of fingernail-sized devices scattered like a disturbed swarm of bees. They zipped into the snowstorm and latched silently onto cameras, turrets, and radar nests lining the castle's defenses.
No explosions. No sparks. Just a faint ripple of EMP.
Through Henry's enhanced vision, he watched every weapon stutter, freeze, and die. The turrets slumped lifeless, drones spiraled out of the air, crashing into snowbanks without a sound.
"Done." Tony's voice carried a smug edge. "That's technology. No soldiers, no fuss, no mess — just elegance. Lethal elegance."
They descended like feathers, landing atop the tallest spire without a sound.
Wind howled. Snow whispered. The entire castle lay like a giant tomb.
"Fine. I'll admit — that was cool." Henry glanced around at the gutted defenses. For once, a genuine compliment.
His eyes narrowed. The castle shifted in his gaze — walls transparent, circuits glowing, veins of energy pulsing. He blinked again, and the vision sharpened. No more crude X-ray outlines. Now it was true sight — detailed, selective. He could focus through layers, zoom onto exactly what he wanted. He saw the Hydra soldiers inside, scrambling in confusion after their instruments went dark.
"Not cool," Tony corrected with a grin as his helmet peeled back. "Art. On the outside, everything looks normal. On the inside, they're blind and deaf. Now comes our grand entrance."
The brothers leapt down from the tower, silent shadows landing before the main gate.
The door loomed — oak and steel, engraved with a skull-octopus crest. Heavy, imposing, defiant.
"Want me to?" Henry flexed his fists, itching for action.
"No, no, no!" Tony stopped him immediately. "We're going in with elegance. Violence is for the brainless."
Henry rolled his eyes. "Then hurry up."
Tony lifted his right palm, aimed at the lock, and fired a precise, low-energy beam. A faint click. The gears groaned, hinges screeched. The massive doors shuddered, then swung inward with ominous weight.
"Welcome," Tony said with a flourish, gesturing to Henry like a host at a gala, "to Hydra's party."