The small hidden base was swept clean in no time. Even against a scattered group of Avengers fighting independently, the HYDRA operatives failed to mount a decent counterattack from start to finish. Maybe the HYDRA members here weren't elite enough, or maybe the Avengers were simply that formidable—either way, they emerged victorious.
As they drove the remaining prisoners back to Hong Fei, smiles crept onto their faces—except for the Hulk, who stood apart, his heavy breathing filling the air.
"Having fun?"
Hong Fei's voice cut through the moment, and the smiles vanished instantly.
"No coordination, no chemistry. You're like a bunch of blind—Matt, no offense, but you're all like blind wild boars, charging forward without a care for what's in front of you. Enemy, prey, or a solid alloy door—you'd smash right into it without hesitation. Hell, if there were a pile of shit in front of you just now, you'd have plowed right through it."
Steve's mouth twitched, and the others shifted uncomfortably. Hulk, meanwhile, stood to the side, pouting and breathing heavily—not from exhaustion, but because that's just how he breathed. Watching the dejected group, Hong Fei found himself missing Big Head. Sure, Big Head was a villain and not exactly easy on the eyes, but he'd turned over a new leaf quickly and never slipped up again. Now, he was Master Hong's top lackey.
"When you fight, the concept of 'teammates' doesn't exist. You just carve up the battlefield, each taking a piece, and then stand around like wooden stakes watching each other flail. If you're going to fight separately like this, why bother with coordinated land, sea, and air operations? Why does the military have different branches? Even online games know you need tanks, melee, ranged, and healers to take down a boss."
The Avengers lowered their heads, but Hong Fei wasn't done.
"Look at you: former convicts, circus performers, someone with seven PhDs—oh, wait, that's not you—someone blind—sorry, not targeting you—and several who've been soldiers. Have you no shame? At first, you needed someone to remind you to follow orders, and once combat started, you all went mute. And Captain—who was the first to call you that? I suggest you visit his grave sometime. Listen carefully while you're there—I bet he's already come back to life and is banging on the coffin lid."
Steve's face burned bright red, the mask failing to hide his flushed cheeks. The others thought the same thing: Too harsh! They'd assumed Hong Fei and Steve were on good terms, so Steve might escape the roasting this time—even Steve had thought so. But surprises always come when you least expect them.
Shaking his head, Hong Fei turned to the prisoners kneeling on the ground, too scared to breathe loudly. His brow furrowed.
"These are HYDRA diehards. I remember them resisting with guns earlier. What's the plan for bringing them back? To treat them to a late-night snack?"
Silence.
"Speak!" Hong Fei barked, startling everyone—even Hulk flinched. Seeing him on the verge of exploding, Hong Fei's sharp gaze shot over like twin blades.
"What's the plan for bringing them back? To treat them to a late-night snack?"
Hulk's roar caught in his throat as his massive form shrank rapidly, transforming back into Dr. Banner clad only in shorts. Rhodes straightened up and barked, "Sir! They're prisoners!"
"And?"
"Sir! Prisoners need to be taken back for interrogation!"
"I don't think that's necessary."
"Sir, this—"
"Shut up!"
"Yes, sir!"
Steve stepped forward, masking his discomfort.
"They're not combat personnel. Why not take them back to stand trial?"
The kneeling HYDRA members nodded eagerly, clearly in favor of Steve's suggestion.
Hong Fei's brow furrowed.
"Taking them back means medical care and food. Are we just going to waste resources like that? And correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't have the death penalty. How much longer do you want these people to live? Look at their reaction—they love your idea. Do you know why? If you take them back tonight, they might be gone by tomorrow morning. Do I need to spell it out for you?"
Steve understood. S.H.I.E.L.D. had already been infiltrated by HYDRA. Taking these prisoners back would only give HYDRA the chance to rescue them through excuses or covert operations.
Sam stepped forward.
"Sir, those are the rules."
"Rules?"
Hong Fei turned sharply and pointed at Sam.
"You! Come here."
Sam hesitated, then walked over.
"You're new. Were you a soldier before?"
Sam's eye twitched slightly, recalling Hong Fei's earlier words. He nodded.
"Yes."
"Have you killed anyone?"
Sam's gaze narrowed, but he answered honestly. "Yes."
Hong Fei waved a hand.
"Kill them."
Sam didn't move. He frowned and glanced at Steve, who was staring at the ground, lost in thought.
"You don't have the right to do this!"
Sam protested.
"Right?"
Hong Fei strode toward Sam.
"Let me tell you what constitutes a right!"
As Hong Fei closed the distance, his oppressive aura and the killing intent in his eyes seemed to solidify. Sam's heart raced wildly. Acting on instinct, he raised his gun and pulled the trigger.
"Don't do it!" Steve shouted, but he was too late. The gunshot echoed through the air.
Hong Fei's figure blurred into an afterimage. In the next instant, he stood directly in front of Sam.
Sam paled. With a flap of his wings, he shot into the air. But his flight speed was laughably slow to Hong Fei, who waited until most of Sam's body had ascended before reaching out. Sam's ascent halted abruptly. He looked down to see Hong Fei gripping his ankle.
Sam increased the power output of his wings, the metal humming loudly, but his altitude didn't budge. As he prepared to aim his gun, Hong Fei yanked him downward with irresistible force.
Bang! Sam slammed into the metal floor, his organs feeling like they'd been rearranged. But it didn't end there. Hong Fei swung his arm, and Sam became the first victim of Master Hong's Earth-to-Sky Toss. After three brutal slams, Sam lay limp, his body broken and unresponsive.
Hong Fei stepped forward, planting his foot on Sam's back. His fingers closed around the metal wings. Riiiip! Twin shrieks of tearing metal echoed through the room as the wings came free in his hands. Jagged edges glinted under the light, exposed circuitry sparking where they'd been wrenched away.
He tossed the ruined wings aside with a clatter. The Avengers stood frozen, wide-eyed and silent. Hong Fei's gaze swept over them.
"I said earlier—you can be weak. You can even be stupid."
His foot ground down, drawing a pained wail from Sam.
"But you will be obedient."
"Since you lack self-awareness," Hong Fei continued, voice dangerously calm, "we'll do things differently from now on. Your identities outside this room don't matter. While you wear the Avengers' insignia, my rules replace yours."
He leaned closer, the weight of his boot making Sam gasp.
"You can keep pretending nothing's wrong. But accidents happen every day. Losing an Avenger or two?"
A shrug.
"Hardly noteworthy."
"From this moment forward," he declared, "my rules are absolute."
Hong Fei lifted his foot, snatched up the discarded submachine gun, and flung it at Matt.
"Kill them."
Matt fumbled to catch the weapon. His enhanced senses screamed a warning—hesitation meant death.
Gunfire shattered the silence. Bodies crumpled. The metallic tang of blood filled the air.
Hong Fei smiled, warm as a summer afternoon. "Excellent. Those three months of training weren't entirely wasted on you." When Matt said nothing, he added, "Pack your things. Go home. And tell S.H.I.E.L.D. to clean up their mess."
He turned and walked away without another glance.
By the time the Avengers emerged—carrying Banner's unconscious form and Sam's battered body—Hong Fei had already vanished. As one, they exhaled in relief.
The next morning, Hong Fei sat on his balcony, Dragon Power rippling across his skin like liquid sunlight. He hadn't rushed back to S.H.I.E.L.D. to continue the Avengers' training. Yesterday's demonstrations should've made his point clear enough.
Now, they needed time to process. To adjust.
He needed time too—before he lost patience and actually killed one of them.
The Avengers' problems ran deep. Each member clung to their pride like armor. Even Rhodes, a mere human in a borrowed suit, carried himself like a decorated colonel.
Pride had its place. But in Hong Fei's eyes? Pathetic.
Defeated soldiers don't get to lecture victors.
Coulson's death might've united them under different circumstances. If they'd faced the Chitauri's full horror in New York, maybe they'd have bonded properly. But reality had played out differently.
Hong Fei had stolen the spotlight from both heroes and villains alike.
Since the Battle of New York, they hadn't faced any major events together—nothing significant enough to forge real cohesion.
In short? They'd brought this on themselves.
Hong Fei had no interest in gentle persuasion or subtle manipulation. Some lessons required direct teaching.
He'd break their pride himself.