Marvel x Genshin: Mavuika, The Sun Goddess Rules Asgard — Chapter 91

Chapter 91: Pierce is Furious

Washington, D.C. Three levels beneath the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, in a secret room that appeared on no architectural blueprint, the time was three in the morning.

The room was starkly lit, yet the atmosphere was so heavy it felt like a physical pressure. The recycled air was thick with the acrid tang of sweat, the low hum of overworked servers, and the evident scent of anxiety that bordered on fear.

Alexander Pierce stood in the center of the room, hands clasped neatly behind his back, his posture as ramrod straight as a career politician’s. His silver hair was combed with careful precision, his gray suit perfectly tailored. But behind the gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes burned with a suppressed, volcanic rage.

Only a short while ago, he had officially taken over as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. It was one of HYDRA’s most significant strategic victories in decades. The organization, long hidden in the shadows, had finally seized the reins of the most powerful intelligence and security agency on the planet.

Now, the sweet taste of that victory was being soured by a sudden, inexplicable disaster.

“Where are they?” Pierce’s voice was terrifyingly calm, but each word landed like a shard of ice in the hearts of his subordinates. “It has been nearly six hours. Where have they gone?”

He turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over the dozen or so operatives in the room. They were the core of HYDRA’s presence within S.H.I.E.L.D.—senior agents, research directors, key figures from administrative departments. At this moment, they were all pale, their faces ashen under the harsh fluorescent lights. Fine beads of sweat slicked their foreheads as their fingers flew across keyboards, eyes locked on the torrent of data scrolling across their screens.

“We were dealing with two scientists, practically with one foot in the grave and possessing no combat capability whatsoever,” Pierce continued, his voice never rising above a measured, conversational tone that was far more unsettling than a shout. “We deployed the single greatest asset we have spent decades perfecting, and now you tell me they have all gone missing? Who can offer me an explanation?”

In a corner, a balding, middle-aged man in a white lab coat nervously wiped his brow. His voice trembled as he spoke. “Director, our conditioning of the Winter Soldier is rigorous and absolute. It is impossible for him to regain self-awareness mid-mission, and even more impossible for him to abandon the operational area without authorization. He must have—”

“Then where is he?” Pierce cut him off, his gaze pinning the man like a scalpel. “And what of Mr. and Mrs. Stark? Where is the serum? Three living people and five vials of super-soldier serum have simply vanished right under our noses?”

The balding man opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He cast a desperate look at his colleagues, but every one of them pointedly avoided his gaze, their attention suddenly riveted to their monitors.

Pierce drew a deep, controlled breath, forcing the inferno in his chest back down. Anger was a useless indulgence, especially now. The mission should have been flawless: dispatch the Winter Soldier to assassinate Howard Stark and recover the super-soldier serum. The Starks were elderly, non-combatants. The route was a state secret, known to only a handful of people.

The Winter Soldier—Bucky Barnes—had, after decades of modification and brainwashing, become HYDRA’s sharpest and most reliable weapon. He had executed thirty-seven high-difficulty assassination and recovery missions. He had never failed. This operation should have been trivial, a guaranteed success.

Instead, reality had delivered a resounding slap to HYDRA’s face.

Six hours ago, all communication between the Winter Soldier and the command center had abruptly ceased. At first, they dismissed it as a signal dead zone in the mountains. But fifteen minutes later, satellite imagery revealed the Starks’ Cadillac smashed against a tree on the roadside. The Winter Soldier’s motorcycle lay discarded in the nearby grass. The scene was utterly deserted.

The emergency ground team arrived thirty minutes after that, and their report only deepened the mystery. The car was severely damaged, airbags deployed, with a small amount of blood staining the interior—not enough to suggest fatal injuries. The Winter Soldier’s motorcycle was pristine. There were no signs of a struggle, no evidence of any third-party vehicles or personnel. There were barely even any footprints—just a few sets leading from the wrecked car to the edge of the grass, where they simply… stopped.

Three people, as if swallowed by the earth itself, had vanished into thin air.

Worse, the metal case containing the five vials of super-soldier serum was also gone. That was the prize, the culmination of intelligence HYDRA had expended massive resources to obtain. It was the key to creating their next generation of super-soldiers.

“Director…” a younger technician ventured cautiously. “We’ve re-analyzed the satellite images and the ground team’s photos. Judging by the vehicle damage, the crash wasn’t fatal. Mr. and Mrs. Stark were likely only slightly injured, and the Winter Soldier…”

He hesitated, swallowing hard. “The Winter Soldier has no reason to abandon his mission. Unless…”

“Unless what?” Pierce’s eyes narrowed.

“Unless he encountered an irresistible external force,” the technician whispered, his voice so low it was almost lost in the hum of the machines. “Some kind of power we can’t understand.”

A suffocating silence descended upon the room. Everyone understood the implications of that statement, but no one dared to give them voice.

Pierce walked to the large screen dominating one wall. It was looping the grainy satellite footage: the pitch-black country road, the crumpled car, the empty, silent scene. The image was blurry; the resolution of 1991-era satellites was limited, and their night-vision capabilities were even worse. In this era, complete surveillance was still a dream. Even for an organization as pervasive as HYDRA, their grasp on information was not yet absolute.

It was a limitation of the times, and it was their weakness. Ten years from now, with surveillance cameras blanketing every city, with more advanced satellite networks and ubiquitous digital tracking… they would never have allowed three people to simply disappear.

But now, they were fumbling in the dark.

“Then find them! Faster!” Pierce spun around, his control finally snapping. He slammed his palm onto the metal conference table. The resounding BANG made the entire room vibrate.

The balding scientist from earlier flinched so violently he nearly fell out of his chair. He scrambled back to his workstation, fingers trembling as they danced across the keyboard. “Yes, Director! We are mobilizing all available assets! The search radius has already been expanded to fifty miles…”

Pierce ignored him, turning to walk towards the window. Of course, this deep underground, there was no real window. It was a high-definition screen, disguised to show a real-time simulation of the world above: the sprawling night view of Washington, its lights glittering, its traffic flowing like rivers of gold.

How ironic. HYDRA had infiltrated the very core of this nation’s power, had seized control of the world’s premier intelligence agency, yet had stumbled so catastrophically on a mission that should have been child’s play.

He had spent decades lurking, planning, carefully cultivating relationships and methodically eliminating obstacles to climb to the position of Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Every step had been like walking on thin ice. He had envisioned using his new authority to completely subvert the organization from within, transforming the very entity that once opposed HYDRA into the perfect incubator for its growth. And now, on the very day of his ascension, this.