The cameras zoomed in instantly.
Under high-definition lenses, the contents of the file were horrifyingly clear.
Every captured teenager was listed in detail—
abilities, weaknesses, compatibility ratings, experiment logs.
Boom—!
This time, it truly exploded.
Reporters who had just been quietly wiping away tears for the rescued children transformed into enraged bulls.
"Nick Fury?!"
"The former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.?!"
"This was a S.H.I.E.L.D. project?!"
"They sold these kids to HYDRA?!"
"No—he was the HYDRA Director all along!"
One of the older children—about sixteen or seventeen—sat trembling on a stretcher.
When he heard that name, his entire body shook violently.
A reporter immediately rushed over.
"Kid, do you recognize that name? Nick Fury?"
The boy slowly raised his head, eyes hollow and empty.
"Yes…"
"About half a year ago… a Black man with an eyepatch came to find me."
"He said I had potential. Said I could become a hero—like Captain America."
"He told me S.H.I.E.L.D. would train me… protect me…"
The crowd erupted.
"That bastard Fury!!"
"Monster! He's a monster!!"
…
Tony Stark listened to the distant roar of reporters bombarding Antony with almost fanatical reverence and clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Well. Guess we're officially irrelevant now."
"JARVIS, initiate auto-retrieval. Have the Iron Legion haul this scrap back home."
"Don't let local recyclers get their hands on it—there are still a few Stark Industries proprietary chips in there."
"We should leave."
Natasha Romanoff helped the weakened Bruce Banner over.
"The way those reporters are looking at us," she said quietly, scanning the distant crowd,
"they'd like to eat us alive. Especially after discovering that damn S.H.I.E.L.D. 'human experimentation list.'"
"If we show our faces right now, Tony, your PR department might actually jump off a building."
"They already are," Tony muttered, glancing at his HUD. Pepper had called him twelve times.
"Let's go. While that 'Star-Spangled Savior' is still posing over there, no one's paying attention to us."
Using collapsed walls as cover, the three of them slipped away from the crowd and headed toward the concealed aircraft.
"Where's Clint?" Banner suddenly stopped, looking around in confusion.
"Where did he go?"
"Relax, Banner." Natasha adjusted the blanket around him.
"When everything went to hell over there, Clint reported over comms that he'd secured the stick."
"He should already be on the plane, probably chilling and waiting to pop champagne."
They moved quickly through smoke-filled streets, entered the forest, and boarded the aircraft through the rear ramp.
Inside, the cabin lights were dim.
Clint Barton sat in the co-pilot's seat with his back to them, hands apparently adjusting the control panel.
The silver metal case marked with a radiation warning sat at his feet, strapped securely in place.
"Hey, Clint," Tony dropped into the pilot's seat and reached up to flick a switch.
"Where'd you disappear to earlier? I thought Loki tickled your brain again."
At that—
Barton's fingers paused for just a second.
Then he slowly turned his chair.
"Like you've never been controlled before," Barton scoffed.
"I saw it. Hulk nearly tore the whole city apart."
"Don't remind me. A few more incidents like that and I'll be bankrupt."
Barton looked at Banner with concern.
"You holding up, Bruce?"
"Same as always." Banner slumped into a corner, head buried in his knees.
"Just… a bit nauseous."
"Vomit bags are over there," Tony called from the cockpit.
"Don't puke on my floor."
"Alright, everyone buckle up. We're getting out of this mess."
"Next stop: Avengers Tower. I need a bottle of Romanée-Conti to calm my nerves."
Whumm—
The aircraft lifted vertically, turbulence kicking up snow and dead leaves below.
As they gained altitude, the cabin fell quiet.
Tony engaged autopilot and leaned back with his eyes closed.
Banner curled deeper into his blanket, breathing slowly evening out.
Natasha sat beside him, cleaning a scrape on her arm.
No one noticed the rear of the cabin.
Barton remained seated beside the silver case.
He stared out at the clouds drifting farther and farther away.
His fingers tapped rhythmically against the metal.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He turned his head, glancing at Tony and Banner.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a faint, chilling smile.
-----
Meanwhile—
In Sokovia, a massive banner bearing the V logo now flew from the highest point of the ruins.
Antony stood beside a row of stretchers as the rescued superpowered youths boarded Vought's specialized medical transports.
"Look at these kids," he said, gesturing toward the thin, traumatized figures behind him.
"They've just come out of hell."
"What they need right now isn't camera flashes."
"They need hot soup, soft beds, and a safe home."
"As for the investigation results…"
Antony paused, his expression firm.
"We will hold a global press conference in New York."
"At that time, I will give the world an answer."
"But for now—"
He waved his hand, signaling the reporters to make way.
"Please give us some space. These children need rest."
With that, he turned smoothly, leaving the world a tall, resolute silhouette as he walked into the aircraft.
The hatch closed slowly, sealing off the noise outside.
Inside the cabin, the temperature was warm, gentle music playing softly.
Pietro lay on a custom medical stretcher, his left leg in a cast and suspended.
"Damn… is this painkiller expired?" he hissed, gripping the railing.
"Why does it still hurt so much?!"
"Hang in there, Pietro."
Wanda sat beside him, holding a damp towel and carefully wiping dust from his face.
"Wanda," Pietro took a deep breath, clearly making up his mind. He grabbed her hand, eyes intense.
"I want… I want to take you to Vought."
He looked at her nervously, afraid she might refuse.
"I know you hate Stark. Hate so-called superheroes."
"But it's different there. It really is."
"Look—I've got money now. A big place. Open the window and you can see the ocean."
"And… and the people there—yeah, they're a bit weird—but they're real."
"Wanda, come with me. We can start over. We can—"
"Okay."
A soft voice cut him off.
Pietro froze.
Every word he'd rehearsed jammed in his throat.
"Y-you… what did you say?"
"I said okay."
Wanda lifted her head.
There was no hesitation in her beautiful eyes.
"I'll go," she said softly, looking toward the cabin where Antony was comforting the children.
"As long as he's there."
Pietro blinked, then followed her gaze.
Somewhere deep in his instincts as a man, a chill ran down his spine.
"Uh… Wanda?" he asked cautiously.
"You're not saying this because—"
"Because what?" Wanda turned to him, eyes clear and innocent.
"N-nothing." Pietro shrank back.
Wanda nodded and took one last look at the land where she was born.
Goodbye, Sokovia.
The roar of engines swallowed everything.
As the aircraft began to climb—
Down in the ruins, an unseen figure was sprinting in despair.
"HEY!! WAIT!!"
"I'm not on the plane yet!!!"
"STOP!! It's me—Silas!!"
"YOU FORGOT ME!!!"
The tail lights blinked once—
Then vanished into the clouds.
All that remained was a massive gust of wind, blasting dust all over Silas Lawton, leaving him standing alone, covered head to toe.
--------------
T/N:
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