In the underground HYDRA base beneath Manhattan, Allens sat comfortably, a glass of red wine in his hand. Reclining against the soft backrest, his eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Boss, I've secured full control of the Manhattan base. Do you have any orders?"
Agent Hodgson Barnett, dressed in a black suit, entered with a cautious step. Despite his steady voice, fear flickered in his eyes.
"Very well, Hodgson."
Allens gave a slight nod, a hint of approval in his expression. In just one hour, Hodgson had brought hundreds of HYDRA operatives under control. The man clearly had talent.
But Allens knew the truth. The real reason for Hodgson's success was the powerful illusion spell he had cast over the base.
At that moment, the walls, ceiling, and floor of the underground facility were cloaked in grotesque, blood-red tentacles. They coiled together, forming bizarre yet intricate patterns. At the center pulsed a massive, blood-red eye radiating malice.
The entire base now felt like the living organs of a monstrous being—terrifying, grotesque, yet strangely beautiful, mingling eerily with HYDRA's advanced technology.
At first, this nightmarish scene had thrown the entire garrison into panic. But Hodgson had swiftly calmed them with lies. He proclaimed that this was a divine creature from Norse mythology—something the Red Skull had spent years seeking. He declared it HYDRA's greatest secret, the key to the organization's rebirth and prosperity. The beast was merely dormant, he told them, and would one day awaken through their efforts.
His rhetoric, sharpened by years of HYDRA indoctrination, subdued their terror. Within hours, Hodgson had the base firmly under his control.
"Have a drink."
With a flick of Allens' wrist, the glass of wine on the table floated into Hodgson's hand. His calm voice carried an irresistible weight.
"Boss… do you have further orders?" Hodgson asked, ignoring the drink. His eyes lingered on Allens. He was deeply curious about this new master—his powers, his intentions. Though Allens had forced his surrender through sheer ability, Hodgson had not lost his instincts or his ambition.
"Peggy Carter is in her eighties now."
Allens swirled the wine in his glass. His words were casual, but they made Hodgson's pupils tighten in shock.
"Peggy Carter? The founder of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Hodgson's mind reeled. Unlike Howard Stark, Peggy Carter had founded S.H.I.E.L.D. on her own after the war. HYDRA's greatest restraint over the decades was not SHIELD's technology, but the fact that Peggy Carter was still alive.
After Steve Rogers and the Red Skull vanished at the end of World War II, Peggy Carter—Captain America's lover—had displayed extraordinary brilliance. She led the Howling Commandos in purging HYDRA bases, predicted threats with uncanny foresight, recovered mysterious 0-8-4 artifacts, and rebuilt the Strategic Scientific Reserve into S.H.I.E.L.D. Even Howard Stark, remembered as a co-founder, had only played a symbolic role compared to her.
HYDRA's fear of Peggy Carter was legendary. Time and again, she thwarted them—capturing Daniel Whitehall, uncovering secrets before they could, anticipating every scheme. Her insight felt prophetic, as though nothing in HYDRA's shadow world escaped her sight.
"Boss, I must warn you," Hodgson said, his voice heavy with dread. "If it's Peggy Carter you're targeting, even with every soldier in this base, we can't stop her. She's… it's as if she's blessed by God Himself."
Allens chuckled softly. "A woman blessed by God? Heh. I've seen God's 'adopted son' before."
His eyes narrowed. He understood Hodgson's fear. But he also knew secrets that not even Alexander Pierce of HYDRA's inner council had uncovered.
"Behind Peggy Carter," Allens murmured, "stands a traveler from the future. Even the Red Skull himself might not have been her match."
The sneer on his lips faded into thought. He remembered the day he first saw the old Captain America. That encounter had confirmed it: this world's timeline was fragile, and its future unstable.
"Find Peggy Carter's whereabouts for me."
Allens lifted his gaze, his eyes glinting coldly as he issued his first command as master of the Manhattan base.
"Yes… I understand."
Hodgson bowed his head. Difficult as the task was, he did not hesitate. He left the room quickly, leaving Allens alone with his wine and his thoughts.
"My future path…" Allens whispered, his tone almost regretful. "I fear it will drift further and further from theirs."
Whether to fulfill his system's mission or to secure his own plans, Allens needed the quantum time-travel suit in the hands of the old Captain America. And once he obtained it, his destiny would inevitably place him in direct opposition to Steve Rogers himself.
Rogers might have seemed content, living quietly with the woman he loved. But Allens knew better. The Captain's true burden was ensuring this fractured timeline flowed into the correct main reality.
The movies had shown one version of events. Reality, however, was something else entirely. And with Peggy Carter's prophetic wisdom—shadowed always by Steve Rogers—Allens knew his war with destiny was only beginning.
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