In a secret underground base beneath Manhattan's East District, rows of advanced equipment gleamed under harsh lights. Much of the technology was decades ahead of its time.
The facility stretched across three levels, each guarded by squads of soldiers in black combat uniforms.
On the lowest floor, dozens of meters underground, a man wearing a Bluetooth earpiece stared coldly at a surveillance feed. The image showed a young man walking calmly through the city streets.
"Allens…"
"Dr. Richard Lyle, are you certain? This man really has superhuman abilities?"
The one asking was Hodgson Barnett, commander of HYDRA's Manhattan base. His eyes flashed with ruthless calculation. Barnett was a cautious man. He had already heard rumors of Allens' strange feats in Hell's Kitchen. To test him, Barnett had used Hood Kane, leader of the Skull Gang, as bait.
HYDRA's research division later confirmed Barnett's suspicions: Allen's gift of persuasion was no ordinary trick. No human, no matter how skilled in psychology, could simply make others subconsciously accept his words and obey without question.
Thanks to HYDRA's infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tech networks, Barnett had been able to monitor Allen's every move in real time.
Since Allens was suspected of being the world's first confirmed "super-powered" individual, HYDRA considered the matter serious enough to restart its Manhattan branch entirely.
On the streets of Manhattan's East Side, Allens strolled casually, but he quickly noticed something strange. The pedestrians around him moved just a little too purposefully, as though silently boxing him in.
"…I'm being targeted."
Nothing in his vision seemed out of place—people walked, cars passed, conversations drifted—but a sense of danger gnawed at him.
"Future sight."
His eyes turned milky white as he unleashed his precognition. His soul seemed to leap into the river of time, flashing through fragments of the near future.
When his vision cleared, he was standing on the very same street. Pedestrians around him moved casually—until one suddenly pulled a pistol from his jacket. The black barrel leveled straight at his chest.
BANG!
Caught off guard, he saw his own body riddled with bullets. Blood sprayed, his legs buckled, and his vision dimmed.
Then the scene shattered like glass.
Allens exhaled slowly. He had just witnessed his own death—mere minutes from now.
"Do it."
One of the disguised agents pressed a finger to his earpiece. At his command, pedestrians all around Allens drew pistols in unison. Muzzles locked onto him—exactly as his vision had foretold.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire exploded, bullets tearing through his chest in rapid succession. Blood sprayed across the pavement as he collapsed, motionless.
"The target is neutralized. Repeat, the target has been killed."
Agent Mike Colby, leader of the strike team, reported into his comm.
Deep underground, Hodgson Barnett watched via satellite feed as Allens' body bled out onto the street. His lips curved in cold satisfaction. "Dr. Spencer, the body is yours. Begin your research."
But before he could leave, the feed flickered. Something was wrong.
On-screen, one of the agents examining the body suddenly floated into the air, clutching at his throat. His face turned purple as he struggled to breathe.
"What the—what's happening?!"
A chilling voice cut across the street. "Tell me… which organization do you belong to?"
The air rippled like disturbed water. A figure stepped out from the distortion—Allens.
Barnett's eyes widened in shock. "Impossible! Wasn't he just turned into Swiss cheese?!"
In truth, the "death" they had witnessed was nothing but an illusion. Using his precognition, Allens had seen the ambush moments beforehand. He had cast an illusionary double to take the bullets, while his real body slipped into hiding. Now, with a flick of psychokinetic power, he lifted one of the agents into the air.
The man's eyes bulged, his voice ragged as he gasped, "We… we are HYDRA agents…"
"Kill him! Kill the target immediately!"
Mike Colby's face twisted with fury. Whether it was the captured agent or Allens, neither could be allowed to live. He drew his pistol and fired.
BANG!
The other HYDRA operatives followed suit, rolling into tactical positions, their muzzles flashing as they opened fire.
"Psychokinetic barrier."
Allens raised his left hand. Invisible energy surged outward, forming a shimmering shield around him.
Ding-ding-ding!
Every bullet froze in midair, suspended just inches from his skin.
With a sharp flick of his finger, Allens redirected them.
The bullets spun, reversing their trajectory—now aimed squarely at the HYDRA squad.
"Shit!"
The agents' eyes went wide, sweat running down their faces as the weapons they had fired turned against them.
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