In the conference room on the top floor of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Alexander Pierce stood by the window, chatting casually while watching Steve Rogers on a nearby screen. He knew Steve had already begun his move. After a moment of thought, he set his phone down and turned toward Councilman Singh.
"Allow me to ask you a question."
He placed the phone on the table and casually picked up a glass of champagne.
"If tomorrow one nation invades another… and you know for certain they'll drag your daughter into a football stadium and execute her."
As he spoke, Pierce extended the champagne toward Singh. The councilman took the glass. Pierce continued,
"And all you have to do to stop it is press a button. Would you press it?"
He then looked at the other council members. "And you?"
It was both a threat and an appeal—Pierce still hoped for one more ally rather than another enemy.
"I wouldn't press your button!" Singh snapped, shaking the glass in his hand.
Pierce glanced at him and smiled faintly. Taking a pistol handed to him by a guard, he realized he had been naïve.
"Raise your gun," he ordered the guard, "and prepare to kill Councilman Singh."
At that moment, the only female council member beside Singh suddenly kicked him aside, positioning Pierce between herself and a stun device. A guard moved to fire, but she was faster. She hurled the stun weapon at one guard, knocking him unconscious, then seized the nearest guard and used his gun to strike another.
With the firearms neutralized, she swiftly subdued all three guards in less than ten seconds. Picking up a gun from the floor, she pressed it to Pierce's temple.
"Sorry…" Her face shimmered with a honeycomb-like disguise as she peeled off the synthetic skin and removed her wig, revealing herself as Natasha Romanoff. "…did I interrupt your speech?"
She handed the gun to Councilman Yan of Tian Empire to keep Pierce under control.
What Natasha planned next required Pierce alive and conscious.
She moved to the conference room computer and began typing rapidly.
—
On one of the helicarriers, Sam finally made it onto the deck. The anti-aircraft guns could no longer target him.
"Cap, you okay—damn it!"
Before he could finish, a fighter jet roared toward him. Swearing, he flared his mechanical wings and dodged as the jet opened fire.
Bullets raked across the deck. Sam landed atop the jet just as it exploded. The blast wave hurled him backward. After rolling twice, he stopped at the edge of the deck, scrambling up and pulling out his twin micro-submachine guns—
Bang!
A figure dropped from the sky.
The pursuing jet had no time to react. Even if it had, it would have made no difference.
The cloaked figure stood firmly on the deck as the jet smashed into him. There was no collision—only the jet's nose crumpling inward.
The stunned pilot pushed the throttle forward desperately. Flames burst from the engines at full power. The aircraft inched forward slightly, but its nose crumpled further while the man didn't move an inch.
It was Karl.
—
On another helicarrier, Steve fought his way forward, knocking down every HYDRA soldier in his path.
"Eight minutes, Cap," Hill's voice came over the comm.
"I know."
Enemies were everywhere. Steve had lost count of how many he had taken down before finally reaching the interior access door.
"Cap, I'm coming to get you."
Just as Steve began searching for the chip replacement mechanism inside, he heard Sam's casual voice: "Hang on. You good?"
"We're fine. Guess who showed up?"
Sam glanced at Superman standing beside him on the deck. His tension eased considerably. In the distance lay an unconscious pilot—the one who had flown the jet. As for the jet itself, Sam's eyes shifted to the twisted pile of scrap metal nearby.
"From the sound of it, Karl's here," Steve said, turning back. With Karl's arrival, the plan had to change. They needed to evacuate quickly—otherwise they might go down with the carrier.
"Yeah. I'll grab you and let Superman handle the rest."
Sam spread his wings, leapt off, and flew to Steve's carrier.
Karl watched him depart. His figure flickered—and in the next instant he was aboard the other helicarrier, inside the control room.
A dozen people were inside.
Karl moved.
For a split second, it seemed as though more than a dozen Karls appeared simultaneously—each knocking someone unconscious. In less than a second, he returned to his original position, as if nothing had happened. It was pure speed; the human eye could only perceive faint afterimages.
He gathered everyone on deck, knocking them out and arranging them in a circle.
Then he thrust his hand into the metal floor and tore up a massive circular slab, leaving a gaping hole. Carrying the slab—along with everyone on it—he flew down.
—
At the edge of the deck, Steve arrived just as Sam descended in front of him.
"Hope you're not too heavy."
"It's too late to start dieting now," Steve replied with relief.
Sam laughed and lifted off. Steve jumped, and Sam caught him midair, flying downward one-handed.
"You're heavier than you look."
"Time to double your workouts."
"Become a runner like you?"
"I could take you running."
"No thanks."
They landed somewhat awkwardly—just in time to see Karl descending with a five-meter-wide chunk of deck in his hands. Over fifty unconscious people lay on it.
"Karl, what's this?"
Karl gently set it down.
"I promised Diwu I wouldn't kill anyone. Everyone still alive on the carrier is here. I'll leave them to you."
Steve looked at him for a long moment before smiling warmly. "Thank you."
"No need. I promised Nick Fury. You're too optimistic about them. I'll go deal with the other two."
With that, Karl shot back into the sky.
Steve watched him leave, still smiling. Karl's refusal to kill—and his willingness to save—earned Steve's respect.
Karl made two round trips in under a minute. This time, he deliberately slowed down.
—
Back in the top-floor office, Natasha saw a message on the screen: "Access Restricted."
"To authorize lift operations, two Level-A officers required."
Pierce laughed. To override security protocols and expose everything about HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. had once been impossible for him. Now, as only a Level-A officer, he couldn't do it alone.
"Don't worry," Natasha said calmly. "Someone will be here soon."
Pierce heard the sound of a helicopter landing outside.
Looking through the window, he saw it descend—and a man step out. A bald, one-eyed figure in black leather.
Nick Fury strode into the office, one arm hanging slightly—his wounds not fully healed—his sharp gaze fixed on Pierce.
"Did you get my flowers, Nick? Glad you could make it."
"Really?" Fury stepped closer. "Because I thought you killed me."
"You know the rules of the game."
They locked eyes for a full half minute.
"Why did you make me Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Fury demanded.
"Because you're the most compassionate—and the most ruthless—man I've ever met."
"I was protecting people."
Pierce's expression turned mocking.
"With diplomacy? That's only a temporary fix. You know how I think, Columbia. You never asked—you just did what needed to be done…"
Before Pierce could finish, Fury pulled him toward the console.
"Actually, even if I hadn't come, you wouldn't have succeeded."
Pierce scoffed. "You can't use it. Did you think we wouldn't revoke your authorization?"
"I know you deleted my codes and scans," Fury said as he removed his eyepatch, revealing his scarred eye. "But if you want to stay ahead of me, you'd better open yours."
He leaned into the retinal scanner.
Boom!
As the scan completed, three massive explosions erupted outside.
"So even if I hadn't come," Fury said quietly, "you still would've failed."
Pierce ignored him, staring out the window.
The three helicarriers hung in the air—then two parallel beams sliced straight through them, cutting all three in half.
The explosions came from within the severed ships.
Power lost, the enormous carriers began plummeting from the sky.
Pierce saw it all.
He saw Superman.
And in that moment, he understood—he had never stood a chance.
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