Ned's house was dim, except for the bluish glow of multiple computer monitors illuminating the living room. Extension cords snaked across the carpet like vines, feeding life into a chaotic symphony of machines: an aging laptop held together by duct tape, three mismatched monitors flickering with grainy surveillance footage, and a small tablet propped against an empty soda can, blinking with a slowly rotating digital blueprint. The hum of electronics filled the silence—a nervous breath before the plunge.
Raj and Peter entered through the side door, shoes crunching on a spilled bag of microchips Ned had clearly knocked over earlier. The air inside was warm, tinged with leftover pizza, static, and a heavy dose of Ned's overused cologne.
"You're late," Ned said without looking up. His glasses slid halfway down his nose, fingers flying across the tablet with jittery precision. "I've been running simulations for an hour. If these servers were any older, we'd be roasting marshmallows over a short circuit."
Peter yanked off his hoodie and slung it over a chair. "We had to take the long way. Drones near 41st. We went full stealth."
Raj stayed quiet. His golden suit was mostly hidden beneath a faded hoodie, but his silence carried weight. He scanned the room—the glowing monitors, the cluttered desk, the flickering blueprint—taking it all in. There was a difference in him tonight. A colder edge.
Ned finally turned, tapping the tablet. "Come look. I patched this together with everything we scouted. Security cams. Guard rotations. Exterior heat signatures. It's not perfect, but it's solid."
Peter leaned over his shoulder. Raj remained standing, arms crossed, gaze flicking between monitors. One showed black-and-white footage of the loading bay—the same one they'd scoped earlier, Hydra's fake recycling plant façade. Another showed drone footage of synchronized guard patrols, clean and clockwork.
"You really pulled this together fast," Peter said, clearly impressed.
Ned grinned tightly. "Oracle mode, baby. Just don't ask how I got this software. Or why my electricity bill is now a hate crime."
Raj finally stepped forward. "What about the perimeter?"
Ned nodded, switching layers on the map. "Cameras every fifteen meters. But there are two blind spots—here and here." He circled them in red. "Could be interference, or lazy wiring. Either way, that's where you slip in."
Peter nodded. Raj said nothing.
"Everything okay?" Peter asked, glancing at him.
Raj nodded, then quietly said, "It's just... different now. This isn't rooftop sparring. This is war."
The words landed like a heavy stone between them.
Ned glanced between his two best friends, his usual quips faltering. "You're sure about this? I mean, we could still leak the files. Call Stark. Fake a city-wide fire drill—"
"No time," Raj said. "If Hydra's expanding, we stop it now. Before someone else gets hurt."
Peter placed a hand on Raj's shoulder. "We've come this far. We finish it."
Outside, the light faded. Inside, the air sharpened with purpose.
The Blueprint
Ned pulled the cracked tablet closer. The screen glowed over a mess of energy drink cans, soldering wires, a half-used roll of tape, and an open bag of stale chips. He tapped to bring up the base model.
"This," he said, "is the best composite I could make. Old city blueprints, satellite overlays, and—uh—one sketch from a Reddit conspiracy thread. But it checks out."
The base shimmered into a rough 3D render. It wasn't tall or high-tech—just an old, concrete industrial site near the city's decaying warehouse district. But beneath the surface?
That's where the secrets lived.
"Ventilation shafts here, here, and here," Ned said, pointing. "Skinny, but Raj could squeeze through. Peter? You stick to your usual—walls, ceilings, Spider-Man parkour."
Peter grinned. "You know me."
"Guard shifts rotate every four hours," Ned continued, switching layers. "Two guards per quadrant. Clockwise movement. But we noticed a thirty-minute overlap around 2:00 a.m.—shift change lag."
He highlighted the timing.
"These red zones?" Ned zoomed in. "No cameras. Old wiring, maybe deliberate blind spots. Either way, those are your entry windows."
Raj nodded slowly. "And underground?"
Ned hesitated. "That's where it gets weird."
He rotated the map, tapping a flickering section labeled SUBSTRUCTURE. Beneath the base was a corridor leading to a chamber marked CRITICAL SYSTEMS.
"I checked city records. This place used to power a Cold War emergency grid. Then it was bought out by a company that doesn't exist anymore. That room?" He tapped. "Could be a data hub. Power convergence. Relay points. Server storage. Or all of the above."
Peter leaned in. "So that's the target."
"Maybe." Ned hesitated, then swiped to another layer.
"There's more."
He zoomed out, then highlighted a second area—just below and to the left of the systems room.
No hallway. No ventilation. Just one solid, unmarked steel door—outlined in red.
"No name," Ned said. "No description. Just… sealed off. Like someone didn't want anyone asking questions."
Raj narrowed his eyes. "What's behind it?"
"Could be experiments. A vault. Hydra's version of a panic room. Or—"
"—more mutants?" Peter asked quietly.
"Or intel," Raj said.
They fell silent.
The outline on the tablet shimmered briefly—almost like the software itself didn't want to look at it for too long.
Peter exhaled slowly. "So two points of interest. The critical systems room... and the mystery vault."
Ned nodded grimly. "One mission. Two potential nightmares."
Raj crossed his arms. "We take the systems room first. Cut their power, data, and comms."
Peter added, "And if there's time…"
Raj met his eyes. "We open the vault."
Peter gave a lopsided grin. "Luck's not our thing."
Raj's voice was steady. "Then we don't wait for luck."
Outside, wind stirred the trees. Inside, the fan hummed.
Hydra had secrets.
But so did they.
And tonight, both would be exposed.