Marcus descended deeper into the underground passage, his steps echoing softly against the metallic floor. He encountered no more Hydra soldiers—only a few automated surveillance cameras tracking his movement. Such devices were trivial to deal with; their narrow fields of vision and susceptibility to electromagnetic interference made them useless against him. With a faint hum of power, he disabled them one by one, continuing on unimpeded.
It was almost suspicious how undefended this level was. But then again, with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s forces keeping Hydra fully occupied aboveground, the fortress's interior was all but empty.
'Good. I've been their babysitter long enough. Time for them to earn their keep.'
At the end of the corridor, the space opened into a vast underground chamber—at least the size of two or three football fields. The room was filled with a chaotic mix of advanced scientific instruments and alien technology: the unmistakable weaponry of the Chitauri.
And dominating the chamber, sprawled across nearly half of it, was a massive Chitauri Leviathan.
The creature—a hybrid of living organism and machine—resembled a metallic dragon cloaked in an insectoid carapace, its head shaped like a monstrous piranha's, its fins broad and whale-like. Its massive body lay still, lifeless yet terrifying, as though it might awaken at any moment.
Its death had not come from battle wounds but from severed connection—its neural link to the Chitauri hive mind destroyed. From the looks of it, Hydra's scientists were trying to reactivate and control it. If they succeeded, this alien beast could easily rival S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Helicarrier in destructive potential.
But what truly drew Marcus's eye wasn't the Leviathan.
Across from it stood a heavily fortified vault, its massive door sealed shut with an intricate mechanical locking system so complex it made the eyes ache to look at. A biometric fingerprint scanner was mounted beside it, linked to an equally advanced security console.
The kind of protection reserved only for something of immense value.
Even if the fingerprint system could be hacked, the mechanical lock itself would be nearly impossible to crack without the correct combination. There was no doubt in Marcus's mind: whatever was inside this vault was exactly what he had come for.
'Time to get to work.'
Calling upon the mental possession of Tony Stark, Marcus's mind became a blur of mechanical calculations. Within seconds, the biometric system and alarm circuits were disabled—rendered inert by a few well-placed magnetic disruptions.
The mechanical lock, however, was already open.
'Strange… did someone get here before me? Or is this bait?'
He had no time to ponder. Every second spent here increased the risk of discovery.
With a deep breath, Marcus pushed open the heavy door. Metal groaned, gears turned, and the vault's interior slowly revealed itself.
Inside was a single object.
A golden staff—twisted and elegant, almost serpentine in form.
Loki's Scepter.
The shaft gleamed faintly under the cold light, its curves lending it an otherworldly grace. At its top, between two sharp silver blades shaped like the pincers of a crab, glowed a brilliant blue gem pulsing with energy.
The Mind Stone—one of the six Infinity Stones, the most powerful artifacts in the universe.
This staff had once bent the wills of men, opened portals through the Tesseract, and laid the groundwork for both the creation of Ultron and the birth of Vision. It was a weapon of gods—and now, it was in Marcus's hands.
For a moment, he simply stood there, feeling the faint hum of the stone's energy thrumming through his body.
'Finally…'
All the work, all the blood spilled—it had led to this. With the scepter, Marcus could open dimensional portals, manipulate minds, or hand it to Tony to accelerate the creation of a sentient artificial intelligence. Whatever he chose, the world's fragile balance would shatter.
After months of playing the obedient soldier, he finally had his reward.
'Let's see what kind of "trap" Hydra's left for me.'
He turned, raising the scepter. He wasn't overly concerned about Baron Strucker's supposed contingencies. If Hydra had any true weapon capable of stopping him, they would've used it long ago on the frontlines against S.H.I.E.L.D.
He'd seen enough of Hydra's strength to know their limits.
But the moment he turned around—
CLANG!
The vault door slammed shut with explosive force, sealing him inside. The sound of reinforced metal locking into place echoed through the chamber like a cannon blast, plunging the room into utter darkness.
Marcus froze, expression hardening.
'A mechanical pressure trigger… of course.'
The floor beneath the scepter's pedestal must have been equipped with an old-fashioned weight sensor—a purely mechanical trap immune to any electronic interference. Once he'd lifted the staff, the trigger had snapped.
It was almost laughable. He'd bypassed advanced alien technology and state-of-the-art security systems, only to be caught by the oldest trick in the book.
"How quaint," Marcus muttered dryly.
A flicker of light illuminated the darkness.
A holographic screen blinked to life on the wall, revealing the smug, scarred face of Baron Strucker.
"Well, well… the infamous Black Reaper himself," Strucker sneered. "I must say, I'm fortunate that Wanda didn't finish you off earlier. I still have… plans for you."
His eyes burned with barely contained hatred. And why wouldn't they? Marcus had single-handedly destroyed Hydra's most elite forces, dismantled entire divisions, and humiliated Strucker at every turn. If the baron ever discovered that Marcus had also annihilated the Hydra extraction unit at the island prison, he'd likely die of rage on the spot.
"You've finally fallen into my hands," Strucker continued, his tone twisting into mockery. "Don't bother trying to escape. That vault's walls are constructed from Chitauri alloy—stronger than titanium, stronger even than Stark's gold-titanium composite. The same material could hold a Hulk, and you… well, you're no Hulk."
He gave a cruel smile. "Consider it a fitting prison for a monster like you."
The screen flickered—
And Marcus's fist slammed into the wall.
The impact thundered through the vault, shaking the entire chamber. The wall dented slightly under the strike, the metal rippling like liquid before solidifying again.
The shockwave was powerful enough to crack the screen itself, distorting Strucker's face into static.
'Not bad,' Marcus thought, examining the shallow imprint his fist had left. 'That's tougher than I expected.'
Even a full-force strike—ten times his usual strength—had only managed to leave a faint dent.
In other words, unless your name was Hulk, you weren't breaking out of this place.
No wonder Strucker was so confident.
This vault wasn't just a containment chamber.
It was a prison built by gods—using alien metal.
_____
T/N:
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