Following Baron Strucker's orders, the Scarlet Witch wandered away from the battlefield, confusion and unease clouding her mind. She trekked through the snow-covered forest until she reached the location he had given her—a secluded mountain cave, so well hidden that she never would have found it without precise coordinates.
The entrance, however, was sealed behind layers of heavy rock, as though someone had intentionally buried whatever lay within. That kind of barrier might have deterred an ordinary person, but for Wanda Maximoff, it was nothing. With a wave of her hand, crimson energy rippled through the air, and the boulders lifted aside, clearing a path into the dark, silent cave.
"Baron Strucker?" she called out softly.
The interior was pitch-black, the air damp and cold. Even with her powers, she couldn't see far ahead, so she switched on a small tactical flashlight she carried for emergencies. The narrow beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the uneven walls as she proceeded with cautious steps.
Something about the silence felt wrong. The deeper she went, the stronger the tension in her chest grew. Her instincts told her this place wasn't what it seemed.
'Why would Baron Strucker ask me to abandon the frontline and come here?'
The thought gnawed at her. Even through the pain of losing her brother, she had stayed behind to defend Hydra's stronghold. What could possibly be more important than that?
Her question was answered—at least in part—when the flashlight caught a familiar figure lying motionless at the fork of the cave.
It was Quicksilver.
He was draped in a Hydra-issued winter coat, unconscious but unmistakably alive.
Wanda froze. For a moment, her mind went blank. Her heart pounded in disbelief.
'How is this possible? He was taken by the enemy!'
Her thoughts raced. Why would Strucker send her here? Why was Pietro wearing a Hydra coat? Why would he be left lying here, in a perfect spot for concealment?
Every detail screamed trap—but Wanda Maximoff was not a hardened soldier. She wasn't a strategist or an assassin. She was a young woman with immense power and too much heart. The sight of her brother—her only family—overrode every instinct of caution.
She ran forward, her breath trembling.
When she saw that he was still breathing, relief overwhelmed her. Tears welled in her eyes. She knelt beside him, frantically searching for the source of his bleeding, desperate to save him.
It didn't take long to find it. Blood seeped through the coat over his chest. Without hesitation, she pulled the heavy Hydra jacket open—
And then she heard it.
A metallic click.
The unmistakable sound of a pin being pulled.
Inside the coat, glinting beneath the dim light, was a cluster of flash grenades.
"—!"
She didn't even have time to scream.
The cave exploded with searing white light.
"Vvvvvmm!"
The blinding flash consumed everything. The confined walls magnified its intensity, turning darkness to pure, merciless radiance. Wanda's powers could halt explosions, redirect bullets, bend steel—but not light. Her vision was obliterated, her mind paralyzed by the sudden sensory overload.
In that instant, a shadow moved behind her.
A silver blade pierced through her back and out her chest, straight through the heart.
Marcus, wearing tactical goggles to shield against the flash, twisted the blade with surgical precision. The Scarlet Witch gasped once, her crimson energy flickering and dying around her. Her body went limp.
[Virus Touch activated. Target: Scarlet Witch. Zombie Virus injection successful.]
[Target: Mutant-class superhuman. Infection confirmed.]
[Subject deceased. Mutation accelerating.]
[Predicted outcome: Within one hour, target will reanimate as an evolved infected—retaining fragments of human intelligence. Recommend subjugation or mental suppression.]
The plan had worked perfectly.
A Hydra coat scavenged from a fallen soldier. Flash grenades planted within. A pair of reinforced tactical lenses to block the blinding light. A single wounded Quicksilver as bait. And Strucker's voice, mimicked flawlessly by Marcus, to lure her in.
All of it was enough to eliminate one of the world's most dangerous mutants—without a real fight.
Had he faced her directly, even Marcus might not have been able to counter the Scarlet Witch's overwhelming telekinetic power. But inexperience was its own weakness. She had power beyond imagination, yet no battlefield instincts. And so she died without ever realizing who killed her.
'A pity. But you'll serve better this way.'
Soon, she would rise again—reborn as a zombie hero, still bearing the destructive might of an Alpha-level mutant. When the time came for the Battle of New York, her appearance among the undead would be… unforgettable.
Loki's Scepter.
The Scarlet Witch.
And Quicksilver.
All now belonged to Marcus. His mission in Sokovia was complete. The rest would be chaos—a parting gift for S.H.I.E.L.D. to remember him by.
---
Back at the Hydra command center, Captain America and the S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers advanced cautiously through the carnage. The corridors were filled with corpses—Hydra personnel executed at close range, each with a single gunshot wound. At the center of the room sat Baron Strucker's body, slumped over his desk, a pistol in his hand.
"Nick," Captain America said grimly into his comms, "Baron Strucker's dead. Looks like he shot himself… and his men. No survivors."
Nick Fury's voice crackled back through the comms, calm but heavy. "Suicide. Figures. That's how these Hydra bastards always end." He paused. "But that's not what worries me."
His tone hardened.
"Search the area. Find every scrap of data related to the zombie virus. I want their research, their designs—everything. Do you understand? Everything."
"Yes, sir."
The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents spread out, scanning every console and cabinet. They moved with urgency, knowing how valuable Hydra's bioweapons research could be.
Then, a panicked voice broke through the comms.
"Captain! We've got a problem!"
Steve turned sharply. "Report."
"The auto-defense system—it's still active! Hydra's automated turrets are online, and there's a countdown running!"
Captain America's eyes narrowed. "Countdown? For what?"
"Artillery strike," the technician replied breathlessly. "Those cannons we encountered during the midline assault—the long-range turrets. They're preparing to fire again! Time to launch—less than a minute!"
Captain America's blood ran cold. Those cannons were positioned high above the fortress. From their angle, they couldn't target the troops below.
So what were they aiming at?
He swallowed hard. "What's the target?"
The technician hesitated, then answered, voice trembling.
"Sir… the coordinates are locked on Sokovia City Center."
_____
T/N:
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