The desert sun was harsh, baking the skin until it burned.
Alexander Pierce knelt on the scorching sand, his suit soaked with sweat, yet his face still maintained an air of composure.
Nick Fury's gun was pointed directly at the center of his brow. A few hundred meters away, the wreckage of three Helicarriers still billowed black smoke, but Pierce felt he still had bargaining chips.
"Nick, you're a smart man." Pierce straightened his crooked tie. "Kill me, and HYDRA will only hide deeper. You need me. You need the list in my head. You need me to maintain the balance of this World..."
"Balance?" Fury's single eye narrowed slightly, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Your balance involves sending twenty million people into the sky?"
"That was a necessary sacrifice!" Pierce raised his voice. "And do you really think you can judge me? I am a Minister of the World Security Council. I have diplomatic immunity. I have—"
"You have nothing."
A calm voice cut in.
Lin Huai walked over unhurriedly.
Having just promoted, the aura around Lin Huai had become somewhat eerie. Before, it was merely inscrutable, but now it sent a shiver down one's spine.
Lin Huai's gaze fell upon Pierce, his eyes devoid of any emotion, as if he were looking at an inanimate object.
In his vision, Pierce was entangled by countless illusory black threads, connecting to his limbs, torso, and even deep into his brain.
"What do you want to do?" Pierce instinctively felt a wave of dread, his hair standing on end as he subconsciously tried to back away.
"Don't move."
Lin Huai raised his right hand, his fingers lightly hooking the air.
Buzz—
Pierce discovered that his body truly could not move anymore.
His body had completely severed its connection with his brain. He wanted to lift his leg, but it remained motionless; he wanted to open his mouth to scream, but his jaw was paralyzed.
"Human will is very stubborn; interrogations are always full of lies." Lin Huai walked up to Pierce, studying him carefully. "But I don't need an interrogation. I only need an obedient tool."
"Since you like treating others as tools, I'll grant you your wish."
Deep within Lin Huai's pupils, gray mist churned.
His fingers suddenly tightened, making an upward pulling motion.
The expression in Pierce's eyes froze instantly, then rapidly faded. His thoughts and consciousness were forcibly erased by an invisible force, bit by bit becoming a blank slate.
He did not struggle.
Under the power of a Sequence 5 Marionettist, Pierce, who was just an ordinary human, had no right to resist at all.
Only five seconds passed.
The light in Pierce's eyes completely vanished.
He still knelt there, breathing steadily with a normal heartbeat, but everyone could see that the man named Alexander Pierce was already dead.
What remained was merely a breathing corpse.
Natasha subconsciously gripped her gun tighter. Steve watched this scene with a furrowed brow and a complex gaze... Lin Huai lightly flicked his hand.
Pierce immediately stood up, his movements fluid. He even reached out to brush the sand off his knees, that hypocritical smile hanging on his face.
Only those eyes were completely devoid of life.
"Hey, Fury, why so tense? Don't you want to know HYDRA's secrets anymore?"
Pierce spoke, his voice and tone identical to when he was alive. He turned to Fury and began to divulge, word for word, the classified information that even torture couldn't pry loose.
"Strucker's underground coordinates at the Sokovia castle are... Viper is at..."
"The list is in safety deposit box number X at the Swiss Bank. The extraction secret is..."
Nick Fury looked at his former old friend, his single eye narrowing, his expression becoming exceptionally solemn.
He knew Lin Huai was strong and mysterious.
But he hadn't expected Lin Huai to possess such an ability.
"Don't look at me like that, Director." Lin Huai spoke calmly, as if he had eyes in the back of his head. "He treated tens of millions of people as numbers. Now he has become a thoughtless number himself. It's only fair."
...Two days later. New York, Avengers Tower.
The blood-red sunset shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the top-floor laboratory in a crimson glow.
Tony Stark sat at his workbench, holding a laser welding torch.
He was repairing the Mark VI.
This armor had been severely damaged in the previous battle, its chest plate covered in charred scratches.
"Sizzle—"
Blue sparks sprayed out, reflecting on his face which was covered in fatigue and grease.
Tony hadn't turned on the lights.
Jarvis was very quiet, not reporting battle damage data or playing rock music as he usually did.
This silence made Tony feel a bit suffocated. HYDRA had fallen, S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone, and the World seemed to have improved, but he always felt something was wrong, and his heart was racing for no reason.
The automatic sensor door behind him slid open.
The footsteps were heavy.
Two people.
Tony didn't look back, merely setting down the welding torch and picking up a rag from the table to wipe his hands.
"If you're here to tell me that the S.H.I.E.L.D. mess still needs my signature, you can leave, Captain." Tony's voice was a bit raspy. "Right now, I just want to polish my armor and perhaps ponder how Lin turned Pierce into a Puppet."
"Tony."
Steve's voice was heavy, lacking its usual firmness, and even sounding a bit cautious.
Tony turned around.
The swivel chair made a slight friction sound.
Tony saw Steve.
Steve's uniform was covered in dust and wrinkles, but he wasn't holding his shield; his hands hung empty at his sides.
And behind Steve, in the shadows, stood another person.
Long, messy hair, dark stubble, and a left arm that was a metallic prosthetic glinting with a cold light.
The Winter Soldier.
Or rather, James Barnes.
Tony's eyebrow twitched. His gaze lingered on the metal arm for a second before looking at Steve, his lips curling into a strained smile.
"Bringing family to see the workspace? While I don't mind, I have to say, your hundred-year-old friend's fashion sense is truly vintage."
Steve didn't smile.
He stepped aside, letting Bucky behind him be fully exposed to the sunset.
Bucky's eyes were clear, and his expression was calm, as if he had already accepted his fate.
"He has something for you," Steve said.
Bucky took a step forward.
His movements were stiff, and he walked slowly.
Bucky walked to the workbench, his intact right hand reaching into the inner pocket of his tactical vest to pull out a folded document.
The paper was somewhat yellowed, its edges stained with dark red blood.
It was what Lin Huai had given him earlier, and also one of the things Pierce most wanted to destroy.
Bucky placed the document on the table and pushed it toward Tony.
The metal tabletop was icy cold.
Tony looked at the document, his heart suddenly skipping a beat.
"What is this?" Tony asked.
"It's a bill," Bucky's voice was low, raspy and dry.
Tony frowned and reached out to pick up the document.
He flipped it open.
The first page was a photograph.
A dark road, a car crashed into a tree, the front end severely deformed and smoking.
Tony's fingers froze.
He recognized that car.
That was his father's favorite car in 1991.
He continued to flip through.
The second page was a mission report.
[Mission Target: Howard Stark, Maria Stark.]
[Executor: Winter Soldier.]
[Status: Confirmed Deceased.]
[Mission Details: Forge the accident scene, recover the serum.]
Clack.
The document slipped from Tony's hand, falling onto the workbench. The open page showed Howard Stark's mangled face.
The entire workshop fell silent instantly.
Only the distant hum of the exhaust fan spinning felt exceptionally grating.
Tony lowered his head, staring at the photograph.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
His breathing became rapid, and the light from the arc reactor in his chest began to grow unstable, flickering.
"I know it was HYDRA."
Tony's voice was trembling. He didn't look up, his hands gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles white from the force. "I know it was Pierce who gave the order... I know..."
He seemed to be convincing himself.
"That was a weapon." Tony looked up, his brown eyes bloodshot as he glared at Bucky. "You were controlled, right? Like a gun, a knife... you didn't know what you were doing."
Steve took a step forward, wanting to speak: "Tony, he was brainwashed, at the time he—"
"Shut up!"
Tony roared, cutting Steve off.
He remained staring at Bucky, waiting for an answer.
As long as Bucky said 'yes', as long as he said 'I didn't know', as long as he said 'that wasn't me'.
Even if it was a lie.
Bucky looked at Tony.
In this moment, he remembered the [Judgement] card Lin Huai had given him, and what Steve had said to him on the bridge.
Escaping is not redemption.
Facing it is.
Bucky took a deep breath, his gray-blue eyes filled only with serenity.
"I remember."
Bucky said softly.
"I remember every detail."
"I remember two streetlights were broken that night. I remember your father begging me to spare your Mother. I remember your Mother calling your name in the car..."
"The Winter Soldier did that."
Bucky paused, watching the light gradually fade from Tony's eyes, and spoke one word at a time.
"But I was in that body at the time."
"I saw it very clearly."
There was no HYDRA tool.
Only a life for a life.
"Tony!"
Steve sensed something was wrong and shouted as he rushed forward.
But it was already too late.
Clang—
The sound of dense mechanical interlocking rang out.
Countless red and gold armor plates instantly flew in from all directions, covering his entire body in a fraction of a second.
Mark VI.
The faceplate closed.
Those electronic eyes, which usually carried playfulness and warmth, now held only a cold white light.
Tony raised his right hand.
The palm repulsor lit up, its glow bathing the dim workshop in blood red.
Target locked.
James Barnes.