The Scarlet Witch's furious strike had blasted Marcus out of sight—but she, too, paid a steep price for her recklessness. The immense expenditure of psychic energy had drained her strength, and the magical barrier protecting Hydra's final line of defense began to dissolve. Exhausted and trembling, she was left vulnerable—a result of her blind rage and the shock of seeing her brother fall.
With the barrier gone, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s forces wasted no time. Fueled by the losses of both Thor and Marcus, they surged forward, their grief igniting into fury. Under Captain America's command, the battered remnants of the Avengers' forces launched one final, desperate assault against the Hydra soldiers entrenched in the fortress.
Gunfire roared. Explosions shook the frozen ground. Smoke and flame devoured the snow as the battlefield at the gates of the Hydra stronghold became a blazing inferno. It was a battle fought without reliance on Marcus or any superhuman aid—just courage, desperation, and steel.
High above, aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, Director Nick Fury watched the live feed in grim silence.
He knew the Scarlet Witch's power outclassed Marcus's—but it was still difficult to believe that the young recruit who had accomplished the impossible time and time again could truly be gone.
The simplest course of action would have been to send a search team to recover the body. But with nearly all operatives committed to the frontlines, there were no spare hands left.
"Maria," Fury said, his voice low but edged with strain, "check the GPS tracker in Marcus's comm. We need to know where he is. Tony deserves at least that much after everything we've lost."
Hill looked over her screen, then sighed softly, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, sir. We've tried everything. Neither Marcus nor Thor's devices are responding. There's… nothing."
A heavy silence settled over the command center. The crew worked mechanically, their fingers trembling over their consoles. The air itself seemed to grieve.
This was war. They all knew loss. But this time—the cost felt unbearably high.
---
Marcus, of course, wasn't dead.
The moment the Scarlet Witch's icy spear detonated, he had already anticipated the outcome. Taking advantage of the chaos, he'd grabbed the wounded Quicksilver and plunged deep underground, using his Metallization ability to burrow far beneath the avalanche zone before the snow could consume them.
As for the missing signal from his comm unit? That was by design.
Using the mechanical knowledge he'd inherited from Tony Stark, Marcus had created a microscopic set of tools within his own ear using his bio-metal ability. With them, he'd performed a precise modification on the transmitter, disabling the GPS and comm link.
After all, stealth was everything now.
His true mission had never been to win the battle outside—but to seize Loki's scepter without anyone knowing he was still alive. And now, with Quicksilver incapacitated and the Scarlet Witch preoccupied with S.H.I.E.L.D., the moment had finally come.
Let them fight. Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. could tear each other apart. The balance between them was perfect now. They no longer needed him—and he had work to do.
---
Marcus carried the unconscious Quicksilver into a secluded mountain cave, sealing the entrance behind him with a blend of metal and rock until it was indistinguishable from the surrounding terrain. The mutant wouldn't be going anywhere—and neither would anyone find him.
Then, turning toward the fortress—its towers wreathed in flame and artillery—Marcus's eyes hardened. It was time.
Scaling the cliff behind the Hydra stronghold was child's play for someone like him. With his enhanced physiology and metallic adaptation, he moved silently, clinging to the sheer rock as easily as walking on flat ground.
Hydra's manpower was stretched thin; nearly every soldier had been pulled to the front to resist S.H.I.E.L.D.'s assault. The rear defenses were all but empty. Marcus climbed unchallenged to the outer wall of the fortress.
Up close, the stronghold was unmistakably of World War II Axis design—massive, cold, and authoritarian, its concrete walls still bearing faded swastikas that no one had bothered to erase after seventy years.
It was an imposing complex, sprawling over several levels, but the main structure was protected by a shimmering blue energy shield—the reason American satellites had never been able to detect it.
Alien technology. There was no doubt.
Marcus recognized the signature instantly—it was Chitauri tech, the same extraterrestrial energy Loki had brought to Earth. And if Hydra had managed to reverse-engineer even a fraction of it, it explained their rapid advancement.
That meant one thing: Loki's scepter was here.
The shield was designed to repel bombardments, not infiltrators. With silent precision, Marcus slipped through a maintenance duct and entered the fortress.
Inside, the corridors were alive with the hum of generators and the clatter of keystrokes. In one lab, a group of Hydra scientists worked feverishly at their consoles, ignoring the chaos outside. Their dedication to research was almost admirable—almost.
A flash of motion, and Marcus was among them.
In a few swift movements, the scientists were unconscious on the floor. To avoid suspicion later, Marcus made the scene look like a casualty zone—placing the silenced pistol in a dead man's hand and arranging the bodies as though they'd been caught in crossfire. S.H.I.E.L.D. would assume they were killed in the fighting.
He approached one of the computers, eyes sharp.
"Mental Possession: Tony Stark."
The familiar surge of information filled his mind. Within seconds, he was navigating Hydra's encrypted systems like a veteran hacker, combing through files until fragments of data began to piece together a trail.
No direct mention of the scepter—but clues were everywhere.
His gaze shifted around the lab. Something didn't fit. A section of the far wall had reinforced steel supports—unusual for this type of room. When he stepped closer, he felt a faint current of air escaping from behind it.
A hidden passage.
Placing his hand against the wall, Marcus applied pressure. A concealed door slid open with a hiss, revealing a staircase descending into the depths below.
He stepped inside.
The change was immediate. The rough stone gave way to sleek, metallic corridors illuminated by soft blue light. The architecture was unmistakably alien—sharp angles, seamless alloys, and an energy pulse that thrummed through the air like a living heartbeat.
It was Chitauri design.
And that could only mean one thing.
Loki's scepter was close—very close.
__
T/N:
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