The Broadway Theater in Times Square, once a beacon of art and culture, had been transformed into a grim execution ground.
Alexander Pierce led a contingent of heavily armed agents as they escorted the captured prisoners onto the makeshift platform. He intended to hold a public execution, broadcast across the nation, to cement his power. At that moment, every massive advertisement screen in the square displayed a live feed of the momentous event. Pierce had seized control of every television network; there were no other programs today, only this broadcast.
He was merely waiting for confirmation that the Helicarriers, now modified to his specifications, were ready for launch. The completion of Project Insight was the final piece of his grand design—the power he needed to overthrow the old world order. Others might think this was merely an execution, but Pierce knew in his heart that this was Hydra's coronation. From this day forward, he would be the new Supreme Leader.
For a king, the greatest gifts were the submission of his subjects and the heads of his enemies. Therefore, he hadn't executed Nick Fury and the others immediately. He was using them as bait to lure Steve Rogers and his allies into the open, where they could be captured once and for all.
"Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and Prime—I know you're watching," Pierce declared, his amplified voice booming across the square. "Surrender immediately and lay down your weapons, or these people will die for your defiance." He gestured to the kneeling figures of Fury, Natasha, Harry, and Hawkeye.
"Anyone who locates these fugitives must report their whereabouts. Anyone who violates this directive will be treated as an enemy of the state!"
He then approached Harry Osborn. Several agents brought out Norman Osborn, still wearing his expensive suit but looking haggard and defeated. When Norman saw his son bound on the stage, a cry of anguish escaped his lips.
Pierce smiled with satisfaction. This scene, recorded by every media outlet and broadcast to millions, was entirely by design. He needed someone to surrender publicly, to set an example for the world. Norman Osborn was the perfect candidate. With Harry as leverage, Pierce had no doubt of his compliance.
"We meet again, Norman," Pierce said, descending the theater steps with an expression of mock sympathy.
"Release my son, Pierce."
"I'm afraid that's not possible," Pierce replied with false kindness. "Your son participated in acts of treason, helping these criminals attack SHIELD agents. This is a challenge to the World Security Council and to our great nation." He paused, letting the words hang in the cold air. "Of course, he's still young. Perhaps he was deceived. But I need you to provide sufficient evidence of your family's loyalty. Show me your sincerity, Osborn. Show me your loyalty to this new order!"
Norman's jaw clenched tightly. Surrender or watch his son die. An impossible choice for any father. Unbeknownst to Pierce, however, Norman was simply playing his part, waiting for the signal to begin their counterattack.
In J. Jonah Jameson's office at the Daily Bugle, Peter Parker stood in a tense standoff with the veteran editor. Outside, every employee had stopped working to watch the confrontation through the glass walls. Peter's clothes were disheveled; in his haste, he'd only managed to throw on civilian clothes over his tattered suit. Dust covered his face, making him appear exhausted and desperate.
His eyes fell on the fresh newspapers stacked on Jameson's desk, the headlines screaming in bold type: SPIDER-MAN: CRIMINAL MENACE! CAPTAIN AMERICA: HYDRA CONSPIRATOR!
"These can't be published, Mr. Jameson!" Peter swayed, bracing himself against the desk. "Spider-Man isn't a criminal. Captain America isn't Hydra. We have to tell people the truth!"
For once, the usually volatile Jameson remained remarkably calm. He took a leisurely puff from his cigar, exhaled a cloud of gray smoke, and watched Peter's performance with keen, appraising eyes.
"I know you might not believe me," Peter pressed on, his voice cracking, "but we really need to inform everyone, to unite all the forces we can—"
Jameson interrupted, stubbing out his cigar with a decisive crunch and slamming his hand on the desk. "Where is he?"
Peter looked confused.
Jameson's expression grew impatient. "Where is the person who can show up, make everyone believe, and unite them?" He scoffed. "It can't be you, can it, kid?"
A flash of understanding lit up Peter's face. "I'll find him right away!" he declared, rushing out without looking back.
Watching him leave, Jameson loosened his tie and sat back down, muttering irritably, "Clumsy kid didn't even notice the collar of his suit was showing." He then grabbed his phone and barked into it, "Scrap all those papers. We've got real news to print!"
At the Hardy Foundation, Connors faced new complications. Vanessa Hardy had spotted him, and the calculating woman immediately reached for her phone to report his location, knowing it would protect her own interests. Fortunately, Otto reacted instantly, a quiet whir accompanying the movement as one of his mechanical arms shot out and gently restrained her wrist.
"Otto Octavius! How dare you!" Mrs. Hardy's expression was one of pure outrage. To her, Otto was merely an employee. Now, this subordinate was committing treason.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hardy, but I can't allow you to do that," Otto said firmly.
"You want to destroy me? Did you not see what happened to Osborn and Stark? Their businesses shut down, Stark is a wanted fugitive, and poor Norman is being humiliated on national television! Do you want the Hardy Foundation to suffer the same fate?"
Otto knew she had a point. He hesitated, and in that moment, Mrs. Hardy seized the opportunity, wrenching her hand free and stabbing at the screen to dial Pierce's emergency number.
Ring… ring… ring…
In Times Square, Pierce was waiting for Norman's decision when his phone suddenly rang. A tip.
"Looks like someone's smarter than you, Norman," he chuckled, answering the call. But it wasn't a tipster on the line; it was the panicked voice of one of his agents.
"Mr. Pierce, someone has hacked our network!"
Pierce's expression darkened. "All our feeds have been hijacked!"
As the agent finished speaking, a new image flickered to life on every massive screen in Times Square. It was a figure worthy of being carved in marble. Pierce ground his teeth in fury.
Steve Rogers wore his original uniform from the Smithsonian exhibit. Though the style was dated, it was instantly recognizable.
"This is Steve Rogers," his voice echoed, calm and resolute. "You've heard a lot about me in recent days. Some of you have even received orders to hunt me down. I think it's time you learned the truth."
In the distance, Ben unplugged a USB drive from a network access point, then walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows of a nearby building to watch the scene unfold. Banner sat nearby, asking nervously, "Do you want me to… transform for the assault?"
"No," Ben replied. "You're a scientist. Scientists have different strengths. You don't need to join this battlefield." Banner was visibly relieved.
In Times Square, agents gathered around the screens, listening to Steve's speech. Not all were Hydra. Many were genuine SHIELD operatives who had been confused by the sudden turn of events. At the NYPD, Captain Stacy was redeploying his forces when he heard Steve's voice.
"SHIELD has been compromised," Steve continued. "It's been taken over by Hydra. Alexander Pierce is their leader. They're almost ready to complete their mission. Do you see those three Helicarriers? They will soon use the weapons aboard those carriers to eliminate anyone they consider a threat… unless we stop them."
As Steve spoke, agents who had supported Hydra began to waver. They held their weapons ready, eyeing their colleagues with suspicion. In response, every Hydra loyalist immediately revealed their true allegiance, their fangs bared as blood and violence erupted across the square.
Steve's speech continued: "I know it's difficult. The price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not."
Ben cut the feed just as Pierce, his face livid, threw his buzzing phone to the ground. "It doesn't matter anymore!" he roared, abandoning all pretense. "I'm done pretending! I'm showing my hand!"
He spread his arms with arrogant confidence. "What can any of you do? Resist me?" He pointed skyward. "Soon, three Helicarriers will arrive, and anyone who opposes me will be destroyed!" He turned back to Norman, his face as cold as winter steel. "I always thought you were intelligent, Norman. Tell the world your choice! Simply say 'Hail Hydra,' and you can enter the new world with me. Osborn will replace Stark as America's most powerful corporation! Your son will live!"
Norman's voice rang out like a tolling bell, his heroic defiance witnessed by the entire nation. "I would rather die!"
"Then I'll grant your wish!" Pierce snarled, drawing his sidearm and aiming it at Norman's chest.
BANG!
The moment the gun fired, it seemed every camera went dark as millions of viewers instinctively closed their eyes. But Norman hadn't retreated an inch. The bullet never reached him.
Captain America had descended from the sky, his star-spangled shield raised to block the shot. In the air above, the Falcon circled on powerful mechanical wings. Steve's dramatic entrance—landing in a protective crouch with his shield raised—looked like he was presenting a flag of defiance to Norman.
Simultaneously, a streak of red and gold fire shot down from the heavens as Tony Stark, resplendent in his armor, landed with characteristic flair on Norman's other side.
Norman Osborn stood without weapons or armor, yet he was now fully protected. He stepped forward, clenched his fist, and shouted with unwavering conviction, his voice the rallying cry of a new age:
"Avengers, assemble!"
The next moment, Spider-Man and the Lizard dropped from the sky, landing behind him. In that instant, Norman Osborn, the besieged industrialist, looked every inch the destined hero.