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Rage finally burst the dam of reason.
Fury yanked the pistol from his waist and aimed at the huge screen.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Three shots.
The giant screen exploded, sparks flying everywhere.
"He's got a gun!!"
"He's attacking the command center!!"
"Crash—!"
In the vast hall, every Agent—whether a HYDRA sleeper or a loyal S.H.I.E.L.D. operative—drew their sidearm in the same heartbeat.
A hundred black muzzles locked onto Nick Fury and Clint Barton.
Barton's bow was fully drawn, but he dared not loose; one arrow and they'd be turned to sieves.
"Drop the weapon, Nick!"
Hill drew her pistol, sighting on Fury's chest. Her hand was steady, but her eyes trembled.
"Take the internal inquiry—it's your only way out alive!"
Fury looked at Hill, at the subordinates who once obeyed his every word.
He saw it.
Trust had collapsed.
In this age of manipulated information, truth no longer matters—only what people choose to believe.
"Inquiry?" Fury gave a self-mocking laugh. "Walk into that interrogation room and I never walk out, Hill. You know it."
Slowly he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Fine… you win."
The Agents relaxed a fraction; barrels still trained on him, fingers easing off triggers.
In that instant—
"Barton! Flash!" Fury hissed.
Without hesitation Barton pulled a special arrow, slammed it into the floor.
"Boom—!!"
Blinding white filled the command hall; everyone instinctively shut their eyes and screamed.
"Ahh! My eyes!"
"Fire! Fire!"
"Bang-bang-bang—!"
Guns roared, bullets spraying blind.
Amid the chaos—
Fury grabbed Barton, slapped a Micro-Breacher onto the reinforced glass beside them.
"Down!"
"Boom!"
The glass shattered.
Wind howled in.
They were on the Thirtieth Floor.
"Jump!"
Fury and Barton leapt without hesitation, diving out of the building.
"Swoosh—!"
Mid-air Barton fired a Grappling Arrow, anchoring into the wall below; like a pendulum they smashed through a lower window and rolled into an office.
"Go! B4 Garage—my backup ride's there!"
They pelted down the corridor, alarms shrieking, footsteps closing in.
The once king of spies, now a stray dog… "What a beautiful symphony."
Alexander Pierce stood at the picture window, watching the frantic fleeing cars, distant sirens lacing the air, a rapturous smile on his face.
He turned to "Brock Rumlow" standing behind him.
"Well done, boy. Your plan is nothing short of genius."
Pierce walked up, clapped the solid shoulder.
"Reverse the narrative—use their own mouths to throw the filth back on Fury."
"I always thought you were just muscle; turns out you've got a gift for tactical psychology."
"For HYDRA's victory, Sir."
A cocky grin flashed across "Rumlow's" face—its data model taken from the late Rumlow himself.
"Exactly—HYDRA's victory." Pierce was radiant. "When Insight is done, you'll have everything you've earned. I'll nominate you the next Director."
"Rumlow" inclined his head. "The honor is mine."
Pierce set down his glass, glanced at his wristwatch.
"The Councillors' authorization codes have arrived."
"Even though that rat Fury got away, it no longer matters."
Decades of infiltration.
Generations of effort.
At last, in this moment, it would bloom and bear fruit.
"Hail HYDRA."
Pierce murmured, then ordered the command hub to lift off.
"All units, attention."
"This is Alexander Pierce."
"I declare… the Insight Project officially initiated."
"Bring the carriers… aloft."
…The river surged, the Earth trembled.
"Rumble-rumble—"
Three colossal helicarriers, riding Stark-tech anti-grav engines, tore through the water and rose slowly into the sky.
Waterfalls cascaded from their decks.
Engine thunder rolled across Washington D.C.
Humanity's industrial pinnacle—and the sword of Damocles above every head.
Once they reached three-thousand-foot sub-orbit and linked with Insight satellites,
they could lock and eliminate any "threat" on Earth in an instant.
Target-rich… "Sir."
Skynet's encrypted channel whispered in A-Zu's ear.
"Successfully infiltrated the fire-control systems of all three helicarriers."
"Zola's algorithm overwritten. New targeting logic uploaded."
"The triggers of those three ships are now in your hand."
"Rumlow did well," A-Zu said approvingly. "Next service, give him some premium motor oil… hahaha."
…"Motherf—! They're airborne!"
Fury, in the passenger seat, stared at the sky-blotting shadows, face ashen.
"Now what, boss? Want me to bring 'em down with Boom-Arrows?"
Hawkeye Barton wrenched the wheel, dodging a Rocket from their pursuers.
Fury's eyes were fixed on the three leviathans as he pulled out the vintage pager—his last card: Captain Marvel.
But his hand shook; Carol had expressly demanded "use it only at the ultimate crisis".
And that crisis meant off-world threats—Carol's duty was cosmic peace, not Earth's internal squabbles.
"Damn…" He pocketed the pager, despair flickering in his eyes… Washington, Triskelion Building.
Pierce gazed from the picture window, looking up.
He waited.
Waited for the sweet boom of cannon, for names to vanish in smoke one by one.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Five minutes.
Silence.
Dead calm.
"What's going on?"
Pierce frowned, utterly baffled; he checked again—launch order given.
At that moment the office phone rang.
Security Council hotline.
Pierce answered uneasily; it was Councilman Rockwell.
His tone was eerily calm, almost cold.
"In view of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s recent internal chaos and clear evidence of severe HYDRA infiltration,"
"the Security Council, after emergency consultation and with consent of the permanent-member representatives,"
"has unanimously resolved to invoke the Emergency Takeover Clause of the Superhuman Registration Act."
"Henceforth, the three Insight helicarriers and all ancillary weapon systems…"
"…are temporarily transferred to Vought Global Defense (V.G.D.) for custodianship,"
"until S.H.I.E.L.D. completes full internal cleansing and investigation."
Boom—!
The sky fell—!