Cold wind whipped snow across the northern ridge as dawn broke over the mountains.
Tucked into the side of a jagged cliff, half-buried under pine trees and snowdrifts, sat an old stone fortress from the nineteenth century. To anyone flying overhead, it looked like an abandoned ruin. But down in the valley, hidden vehicle tracks cut clean lines through the snow where the Team Six transport had driven back inside.
Adrian stood at the tree line, his hands in his coat pockets. Beside him, Pietro bounced on his heels to fight off the freezing mountain air, while Wanda stood calm, her dark eyes scanning the perimeter fence.
"Two snipers in the concrete towers," Adrian said quietly. "Automated microwave radar sweeping the service road. No alarms yet."
Pietro smirked. "I'll take the towers."
Before Adrian could reply, a silver streak shot across the snow.
Pietro vanished into the pine trees. A second later, two faint metallic snaps echoed through the woods as he sliced through the heavy copper communication cables connecting the sniper nests to the main bunker. The guards never even looked down from their rifle scopes.
Wanda stepped forward and raised her hands. Her eyes flashed with scarlet light. A faint wave of crimson hex energy swept across the chain-link fence, silently frying the circuits inside the security cameras and radar receivers. On the monitors inside the guard posts, the video feeds simply looped on an empty, peaceful snowfield.
"Cameras are blind," Wanda said, turning back to Adrian.
"Good work," Adrian said. "Stay close."
They walked past the gate and reached the mountain service entrance.
A three-foot-thick steel blast door blocked the tunnel, fitted with hydraulic locks and an electronic keypad. Setting off an explosive charge here would wake up the whole base.
Adrian stepped up to the door and exhaled.
He relaxed his molecular cohesion and walked straight through the solid armor plating. Passing through three feet of cold, hardened alloy sent a sharp shudder down his spine, but he kept his footing and solidified on the other side.
Inside the concrete airlock, Adrian grabbed the heavy manual override lever and pulled it down with a sharp yank.
HISS.
The hydraulic pistons released with a loud burst of pressurized steam, and the massive blast door slid open. Wanda and Pietro slipped inside, and Adrian pulled the door shut behind them, locking it back into place.
The air in the hallway was warm, sterile, and smelled of ozone.
They moved down the main corridor, their boots quiet on the polished concrete. Around the corner, heavy combat boots approached at a jog.
An eight-man internal security squad rounded the bend, dressed in gray tactical gear with assault rifles raised.
"Intruders in sector three—" the point-man yelled, raising his rifle.
Pietro was already moving.
WHOOSH.
A rush of wind tore down the corridor. Pietro blurred between the guards like lightning. In less than two seconds, eight rifle magazines hit the floor with a loud plastic clatter, followed by eight steel firing pins that Pietro casually tossed over his shoulder.
The guards pulled their triggers, but only heard empty clicks.
Two men at the back pulled electric stun batons from their belts, lunging forward.
Wanda thrust both palms outward. A concussive burst of scarlet force hit the two men in the chest, lifting them off their feet and slamming them hard against the steel bulkhead. They crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Adrian didn't give the remaining six a chance to draw their knives.
He focused his eyes and released a sharp, wide psionic sweep down the hallway. The invisible wave hit their brains instantly. All six guards slumped forward, their eyes rolling back as they dropped into deep comas before they could reach for an alarm bell.
"Clean," Adrian said, walking over the fallen men. "Keep moving."
At the end of the hall, double steel doors hissed open, revealing the central command lab.
The room was massive, filled with humming supercomputers, banks of green monitors, and glass cases containing high-tech weapon prototypes.
At the central console stood Baron Wolfgang von Strucker, holding a cigar, reviewing false sensor logs with Dr. List.
When the doors opened, both men snapped their heads around.
Strucker's monocle caught the ceiling light. His face twisted in rage as he realized strangers were standing inside his sanctum. With military speed, Strucker reached into his coat and drew an experimental sidearm that hummed with bright blue plasma energy.
"Who gave you clearance to enter—" Strucker barked.
Adrian didn't dive for cover. He simply flicked his index finger.
An invisible telekinetic hammer struck the gun. The heavy barrel bent upward at a sharp ninety-degree angle, and the high-energy battery cell was crushed into a useless ball of molten lead and smoking wires.
Strucker yelped, dropping the burning weapon onto the linoleum floor.
Dr. List stepped backward toward an emergency alarm button on the wall, but Wanda's dark eyes flared red. A thin ring of hex magic wrapped around List's ankles, locking his boots to the floor like solid concrete.
Pietro leaned against the main exit door with his arms crossed, a mocking grin on his face. "Nobody is running today, old man."
Strucker clutched his scorched hand, his chest heaving as he stared at Adrian. He tried to hide his fear behind arrogance.
"You have no idea what you've walked into," Strucker snarled, his German accent thick and sharp. "We are HYDRA. Cut off one head, two more shall—"
"Save the speech," Adrian said, walking directly up to him. "It's tired, and nobody cares."
Adrian grabbed Strucker by the collar, pulled the older man down to eye level, and drove Cassandra Nova's telepathy straight into his brain.
Strucker's mind was disciplined, fortified by decades of military training and psychological conditioning. To ordinary mental probes, it was a steel vault. But to an Omega-level psionic template, that vault was made of wet paper.
Adrian didn't lobotomize him. Leaving a brain-dead officer in charge of a European fortress would alert Alexander Pierce and the World Security Council within twenty-four hours.
Instead, Adrian worked like a master programmer. He went straight to the core of Strucker's loyalty algorithms and rewrote them completely.
Adrian Kovac is the supreme shadow authority of HYDRA's European division. His voice is absolute law. Following his commands is the highest duty of your life.
Strucker's eyes went wide, his pupils shaking as the mental rewrite locked into place. His jaw slacked, the veins in his neck settled, and the anger on his face melted away into complete, disciplined stillness.
Adrian released his collar.
He turned his head toward Dr. List, who was trembling by the wall. A five-second psionic tap into the scientist's cortex rewrote his loyalties just as cleanly.
Wanda released her hex hold on List's boots. The scientist stood straight, adjusted his glasses, and bowed his head respectfully.
Strucker stepped forward, snapped his boots together, and lowered his head.
"Director Kovac," Strucker said, his voice entirely calm and steady. "The facility awaits your orders."
Wanda blinked, looking between Adrian and the suddenly obedient warlord. Even with her growing power, the sheer scale of Adrian's mental control was breathtaking.
"Bring up the logistics databank," Adrian ordered, walking to the main terminal. "Everything."
"Immediately, sir," List said, his fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard.
The massive wall monitors flashed, bringing up endless lines of classified records, bank accounts, and facility blueprints.
Adrian scanned the data with a sharp, calculating eye:
Twenty-four offshore shell accounts in Zurich and Geneva, holding over three hundred and fifty million dollars in laundered currency and pure gold deposits.
Three subterranean manufacturing levels beneath the castle, equipped with high-precision CNC mills, industrial titanium foundries, and automated assembly tracks.
Dozens of heavy logistics trucks, diesel generators, and construction machinery bought with black-market funds and parked in the lower hangars.
Pietro walked over to the terminal, staring at the long row of zeros on the Swiss banking readout.
"So... we aren't poor anymore?" Pietro asked, his voice barely a whisper as he pointed at the screen.
"We're not running a street gang, Pietro," Adrian said, shutting the bank screen with a single keystroke.
He turned to face Strucker and List, laying down the law with cold authority:
"Here is how this facility runs from now on. First, you send your weekly status reports to Alexander Pierce exactly on schedule. Everything is normal, research is progressing, and the perimeter is secure. No deviations."
"Understood, Director," Strucker replied without hesitation.
"Second, you stop grabbing civilians from the street for biological experiments. That nonsense ends today. Retool the underground foundries immediately. I want those lines fabricating high-tensile structural steel, civil water pumps, and electric generators instead of experimental laser prototypes."
"We can alter the manufacturing templates within forty-eight hours, sir," List answered, taking notes on a tablet.
"Third, transfer fifty million dollars from the Swiss accounts into four separate municipal accounts in Novi Grad by noon," Adrian ordered. "Use it to buy trainloads of grain, medical supplies, and heating coal from Romania and Hungary. We are going to feed this city through the winter."
"It will be done immediately, Director," Strucker said, giving a crisp nod.
Adrian walked past the consoles toward the heavy blast doors, pulling his canvas coat tight around his shoulders.
Wanda and Pietro fell into step right behind him, their heads held high.
Adrian stopped at the threshold of the mountain bunker, looking back at the armed fortress that had terrorized the valley for decades.
"HYDRA spent seventy years digging tunnels in the dark," Adrian said, a faint, cold smile touching his lips. "Starting today, they build my city."