"No problem with the weapons and equipment," Hill said as she checked the racks along the wall.
"There's more than enough here for all of us."
Natasha walked over, scanning the selection. She picked up a few tools and tested their weight. "I'll need some specialized gear for cracking electronic systems."
"They're in the toolbox over there," Fury said, pointing to the corner. "Every kind of decoder and intrusion device you can think of."
Clint checked the tension on his bowstring, then examined his arrows. "I've still got enough arrows, but I could use a few specialty heads."
"Explosive tips are in the cabinet on the left," Hill reminded him.
Preparations went smoothly. Each of them focused on their own gear, knowing exactly what needed to be done. But beneath the methodical movements, a heavy silence lingered. Everyone knew this could very well be a one-way mission.
"One more thing," Fury said suddenly. "If we fail, there are still people out there who know about Hydra."
"Are you talking about that writer?" Coulson asked.
"Voss Nibbler," Fury confirmed. "He knows more than we thought. If we don't make it, maybe he can find another way to fight them."
Natasha frowned. "Who is this writer exactly? How does he know so many of SHIELD's secrets?"
"We're not sure," Steve said. "But he's helped us more than once."
"Let's just hope he's safe," Fury muttered.
Clint pulled the bowstring again, testing the tension. "If everything's ready, when do we move?"
"Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock," Fury replied. "Remember, we get one shot at this. If we fail—"
"There's no if," Steve cut him off. "We're not failing."
"Optimists are so charming," Natasha said dryly, slipping a dagger into her boot.
"This isn't optimism," Clint said while checking his quiver. "It's survival instinct."
The basement went quiet again. Only the faint clatter of metal and the rhythmic clicking of gun checks echoed through the room.
Coulson picked up a Glock, ejecting the magazine and inspecting the rounds. His movements were smooth, professional—yet his eyes carried something heavier.
"Director," he said suddenly, "I have a request."
"Go ahead," Fury said.
"If we're going up against Hydra… I want to bring this." He pulled a slightly yellowed trading card from his pocket.
Clint leaned over and smirked. "A Captain America card? You still carry that thing around?"
"It's the 1943 edition," Coulson admitted, a little embarrassed. "I've had it for over twenty years. I know it's childish, but—"
"Not childish at all," Steve interrupted, walking closer. He studied the card — his own younger face staring back at him.
"This card's more real than a lot of things I've seen."
"Captain, remember what you promised me?" Coulson said, holding it out. "You can make it official now. A good-luck charm before we go."
Steve smiled and took the card. "Guess I did promise that. But I should warn you—my signature might actually lower its value."
"It won't," Coulson said firmly. "It'll make it priceless. The only one of its kind — signed by Captain America himself."
Natasha watched with a faint smile. "Didn't think SHIELD agents could fangirl like this."
"Everyone believes in something," Coulson said as he carefully tucked the card back into his pocket. "Some believe in power, some in money. I believe in heroes."
"Speaking of faith," Clint said, not looking up from his bow, "I believe in hitting my target."
He aimed at an empty can on a shelf across the room. "One hundred percent accuracy, never miss."
"Really?" Natasha arched a brow. "What if I kick that can first?"
"You can try," Clint said, drawing his bowstring.
The instant she moved, he fired. The arrow struck the can dead center, sending it flying into the wall with a metallic clang.
"Not bad," Natasha said with a smirk. "Next time I'll make it harder."
"I'll be waiting," Clint replied, lowering his bow.
Hill checked the communication setup. "Comms are ready across all units. Once we move, everyone stays in constant contact."
"Hydra probably has the codes," Natasha warned. "If they're inside SHIELD, they've likely compromised the channels too."
"I've accounted for that," Hill said, pulling several compact devices from her bag. "Quantum-encrypted communicators. The signals can't be cracked."
Fury checked his watch. "A few hours until dawn. Get some rest while you can."
Clint scoffed. "Rest? Yeah, good luck with that."
"Try anyway," Steve said, settling into a corner. "We'll need every ounce of energy tomorrow."
Natasha leaned against the weapon rack. "I'm used to staying awake before missions."
Coulson sat at a table and opened a small booklet.
"What's that?" Clint asked.
"SHIELD Agent Handbook, 17th edition," Coulson replied without looking up. "Just refreshing the standard procedures."
Natasha chuckled softly. "A handbook won't save you from Hydra."
"Maybe not," Coulson said, closing it. "But it reminds me there are still rules worth following."
Fury understood. When the organization you've dedicated your life to turns out to be compromised, anything that represents order or morality becomes a lifeline.
"Coulson's right," Steve said. "Principles never go out of style."
Hill adjusted her earpiece. "If we do succeed… what happens to SHIELD?"
The question silenced everyone. The infiltration ran so deep that purging Hydra might mean tearing down SHIELD itself.
"Then SHIELD starts over," Fury said slowly. "From scratch. A clean slate."
"That could take years," Hill said. "What about the other threats out there?"
"One thing at a time," Steve said. "We handle the crisis in front of us first."
Clint checked his arrows again. "And when we do handle it, can I transfer somewhere quiet? Maybe records or logistics?"
Natasha smirked. "You? Filing paperwork?"
"Why not?" Clint said with a shrug. "I'm done living on the edge."
Coulson shook his head. "That'd be a waste of talent."
"Sometimes being ordinary sounds like heaven," Clint said. "I'm tired of being the guy who never gets a day off."
Natasha nodded slightly. "I get it. But for people like us, normal is the one thing we'll never have."
"Why not?" Steve asked.
"Because we know too much," Natasha said quietly. "And we've done too much. Even if we walk away, someone will make sure we never really leave."
The room went quiet again. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts — of the past, the choices, the weight of what lay ahead.
"Maybe after tonight," Hill said softly, "none of that will matter anymore."
Coulson walked to the narrow window. "Don't be so grim. Look — dawn's breaking."
A faint glow crept across the eastern sky. A new day — and the day that would decide the world's fate.
"There's still one thing," Natasha said suddenly. "If Project Insight is already live and we fail… what happens to that writer, Voss?"
Clint turned toward her. "What do you mean?"
"You said he can foresee things. If he really knows what's coming, why isn't he helping us directly?"
The question made Fury pause. She had a point — Voss's behavior had always been a mystery. He'd provided the intelligence that made this mission possible, but now he was nowhere to be found.
"Maybe he has his own plan," Steve said. "Or maybe he knows something we don't."
"Either way," Fury said finally, "it's on us now. Everyone, final check — we move out soon."
Coulson patted the card in his pocket. Clint slung his quiver. Natasha checked the pistols at her waist. Hill packed the comm gear.
Fury looked at each of them in turn. "Today we're not just fighting Hydra. We're fighting our own doubts. But as long as we stand together, nothing's impossible."
Steve raised his shield. "For the twenty million innocent lives."
"For justice," Coulson added.
"To stop madmen from running the world," Clint said.
Natasha said nothing — just nodded, her expression resolute. For her, this mission wasn't just about the world. It was about redemption.
Outside, the sun rose over Washington, bathing the city in gold.At the Triskelion, Alexander Pierce was making his final preparations for Project Insight — unaware that a battle for the fate of the world was already on its way.