"That's him!"
Steve spoke with absolute certainty the moment he saw that blurred face. Ever since he realized Norman was the man who had framed him, Steve had spent the last two days tearing through his files. From the moment Norman joined the DEA, every case he handled, and every word he had uttered in public was scrutinized by Steve's obsessive focus. That slightly roguish face was now permanently etched into the back of his eyelids.
In contrast, Tony was far more methodical. "Jarvis, run facial recognition."
"Initiating... Recognition successful. Match probability—98%."
Tony's expression went cold as he gave a slight nod. "Found you at last, you son of a bitch."
On the screen, Norman was being loaded into an ambulance, flanked by a phalanx of armored vehicles as they sped away from the area.
"Jarvis, stay on them. I want to know exactly where they're going."
"Certainly, sir."
As the ambulance hit the road with a Guardian drone trailing at a safe distance, the two heroes sat back to regroup. Steve replayed the image of Norman on the stretcher, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"According to our theory, Norman is the mastermind behind the President's assassination. After a hit like that, he should be trying to vanish from D.C. entirely," Steve mused. "But it's only been three days. How did he end up in the middle of some random firefight and get rescued by the military and police before we could even get a lock on him? I looked closely at the footage—those injuries didn't look faked. Is it possible we're wrong? What if Norman is just like me—another puppet for the real killer?"
Tony leaned back, scratching at his beard. "Whether he's the mastermind or not, he's been hiding somewhere around D.C. these past few days, and my drones have been carpet-scanning this entire sector. That ruin where they found him was hidden, sure, but it wasn't invisible to my tech. For a swarm of gunmen to suddenly appear out of nowhere... Well, it means they had high-grade sensor-scramblers. And that usually points to a much bigger problem."
Steve frowned. "That makes sense. What else are you thinking?"
With Tony acting, Steve found himself deferring to the billionaire's analytical mind.
"I think we have too little intel," Tony admitted, shaking his head. "Drawing conclusions right now is just pure guesswork. It'll just trap us in a preconceived mindset. Let's wait until we know who those gunmen were before we decide what Norman is."
"Fine," Steve agreed.
Half an hour later, the ambulance reached its destination. Because Norman was a high-priority fugitive, the police didn't dare take him to a civilian hospital. Instead, they redirected him to the high-security infirmary at FBI Headquarters.
Tony immediately had Jarvis breach the FBI's mainframe, tapping into the infirmary's closed-circuit cameras. They watched as Norman was wheeled toward surgery. A team of doctors rushed in, cutting away his blood-soaked clothes to begin the procedure.
Surprisingly, the doctors emerged only ten minutes later. The FBI agents on-site panicked, fearing their lead witness had flatlined.
The lead surgeon removed his mask and exhaled. "The patient is battered, but it's mostly superficial. Lots of bruising and lacerations, but nothing life-threatening. He'll need two weeks of bed rest, but he'll pull through."
Tony and Steve shared a look of relief, mirrored by the agents on the screen. To prevent any accidents, the FBI immediately placed the room under 24-hour armed guard.
The night passed without incident. The following morning, during the doctors' rounds, Norman finally regained consciousness. After a battery of tests, the FBI interrogators moved in.
"Who were those gunmen?"
"Why were you kidnapped and held there?"
"Did you overhear anything during your captivity?"
The agent fired off questions like a machine gun, but Norman remained silent, his eyes glazed and distant. Finally, he spoke in a weak, raspy voice. "I've been locked in a basement for days... tell me, has anything major happened out there?"
The interrogators whispered among themselves. They decided there was no harm in telling him the highlights. "A Nazi group called Hydra took over SHIELD. They tried to use Helicarriers to slaughter millions. They were stopped by the military, Captain America, and Iron Man. The traitors are in custody."
Norman managed a faint, ghostly smile. He let out a long breath. "Thank God."
The agents were confused. "What's so good about it?"
Norman didn't answer. "Is there more?"
The agent hesitated, his annoyance growing. "Captain Rogers... he snapped at the medal ceremony. He murdered the President with his bare hands."
"WHAT?!" Norman surged upward, struggling to sit, but the movement sent a jolt of agony through his body. He collapsed back onto the bed, his face a mask of fury and regret. "Dammit! I was too late! It's all my fault!"
The agents were baffled. "What do you mean too late? What do you know? Talk to us!"
Norman shook his head stubbornly, closing his eyes. "This goes deeper than any of you can imagine. I won't tell you. It's for your own good—if you knew what I know, you and your families wouldn't live through the night."
The agents exchanged wary glances. The man sounded terrifyingly sincere. "What will it take to make you talk?"
"The President is dead," Norman whispered. "That means the Vice President is the acting Commander-in-Chief, right?"
"Yes."
"Good. Bring him here. What I have to say concerns him directly."
The agents scoffed. "The President is a busy man. He doesn't have time for a suspect like you. I can get our Director down here; he outranks you by a mile. Is that enough?"
Norman closed his eyes again, his jaw set. "Your Director is out of his depth. He doesn't have the clearance or the capability to handle this. I won't speak to anyone but the President. You can torture me if you like, but I was an agent too. I know all your tricks."
"Look at him," Tony said at the monitor. "He's a regular Meryl Streep. Hell of an actor."
Steve, however, was staring at Norman's face. "Tony, are we sure? He doesn't look like he's acting. If he's a Joker member, why would they let him get beaten like that?"
"It's not that hard to explain," Tony countered. "Possibility one: internal power struggle. He got sold out by his own people. Unlikely, though. The Joker Organization is like a cult—they don't do internal friction. They're pathologically loyal."
"So, possibility two?" Steve asked.
"Possibility two is the scary one. It's a ruse. He's playing the victim to sell a bigger lie. The doctor said those wounds were superficial. If you're being held by professional terrorists, they don't leave you with just 'superficial' bruises. There are no 'gentle' terrorists in the real world."
Steve weighed the logic but remained skeptical. "Tony, both those theories rely on the assumption that he is a Joker mole. We still don't have hard proof. If we're too biased, we'll miss the real play."
Tony gave a dismissive shrug. "I don't need proof to know I don't like his face. My gut says he's a clown."
"We can't bet the country on your gut, Tony. We need evidence."
The agents reported Norman's request. Though it was an outrageous demand, the FBI Director made the call to the White House. He expected to be chewed out by his superiors, but the result shocked him: the Vice President agreed immediately and stated he would be arriving at FBI Headquarters shortly.
Since the President had just been assassinated, security was at an all-time high. To ensure the Vice President's safety, the entire route from the White House to the FBI was locked down. Social vehicles were cleared within half an hour, allowing military armored units to roll directly onto the streets. FBI Headquarters was cleared of all non-essential personnel, and Norman was moved to a separate wing. The only agents allowed near the building were those personally vetted by the Director.
At 3:00 PM, the presidential motorcade arrived. High-ranking government officials accompanied the Acting President.
Inside the spacious room, Norman lay in bed, swathed in bandages. Opposite him sat a row of sofas occupied by the Secretary of Defense, the Speaker of the Senate, and other heavy hitters—including the Vice President himself.
"You claimed to have a secret," The Vice President said, cutting straight to the point. "We're listening."
Norman struggled to sit up, scanning the room with a heavy gaze. "The truth is something you already suspected a few days ago. It's true: Steve Rogers, Captain America, is indeed a high-ranking member of Hydra."
Despite being mentally prepared, the officials still looked stunned. The hero was becoming a criminal in real-time. For those who had worshipped Cap for decades, the world was about to collapse.
"How do you know this?" The Vice President asked.
"I intercepted a comms link between Alexander Pierce and Rogers. Don't ask how; I spent a decade in the DEA and nearly another in SHIELD. In terms of tradecraft, I am as good as any top-tier agent."
"And?"
"Once I stumbled upon this secret, I realized Hydra's claws were everywhere inside SHIELD. If I had moved openly, I'd have been suicided instantly. I had no hard proof, just my word against theirs. So, I started my own investigation. I didn't trust anyone. I went to New York and put Captain America under deep surveillance. It's easier to watch a man who doesn't understand modern technology than a ghost like Pierce."
"After years of work, I finally pulled a target list and encrypted files from Rogers' phone. It contained thousands of Hydra sleepers in D.C. But a list isn't a smoking gun. Then, Director Fury found the same rot. Pierce ordered the hit, and my hidden cameras caught the whole thing."
Norman's voice dropped to a whisper. "The man who killed Nick Fury was Bucky Barnes. You might recognize the name. He's the man from the Captain America museum—the one who supposedly died in the war."
The room erupted.
"Impossible!" The Vice President shouted. "If Bucky Barnes were alive, he'd be over ninety years old! You're telling me a decrepit old man killed the Director of SHIELD?"
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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
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