Meanwhile, in a house in Washington, D.C.
Warm afternoon sunlight streamed through the spotless windows, falling on the floor, filling the air with the faint scent of tea and old books. A white-haired elderly woman, her face lined with wrinkles yet still retaining the elegance of her youth, sat quietly on a sofa. Beside her sat a similarly white-haired, yet still upright, elderly man.
Though aged, the occasional glint in his blue eyes still carried the resoluteness of a man from a century past.
Yes, they were Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers.
On the television, the hearing at Capitol Hill that had shocked the world was replaying in a loop.
Henry Stark's young, cold face, and the weight of his declarations repeatedly struck the world's nerves.
"Hydra… Bucky…"
Steve watched the screen, his weathered eyes reflecting a complex mix of emotions: shock, sadness, and a faint confusion even he hadn't noticed in himself.
He had lived through the Endgame, returned to the past, and spent decades peacefully with the love of his life. He had believed that the wars and responsibilities of Captain America were long behind him.
But now, when that familiar name resurfaced in such a manner, he realized some things were etched into his bones—they never truly vanished.
"We all know what he said is true," Peggy said slowly, her voice hoarse with age but still clear and strong.
As one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founders, she understood better than anyone the darkness and filth hidden behind that covered-up history.
"I know," Steve said softly, his hands unconsciously clenching.
Peggy turned to him, her eyes seeming to see straight through his inner struggle.
"What do you want to do, Steve?" she asked gently.
Steve fell silent.
He wanted to say that Bucky was innocent, that he had merely been a controlled weapon.
He wanted to say the Stark brothers' methods were too extreme, pushing the world toward a new abyss.
At one point, he even felt the impulse to stop them.
But in the end, he only let out a long sigh.
Peggy watched him quietly, then placed her wrinkled hand on his.
"Let them go. You've already stopped Tony once, and you've done right by Bucky. Steve… you are Captain America." Her voice was soft, but like a needle, it pierced the last trace of hesitation in his heart.
"Do you want to try stopping them again?"
"Have you forgotten the Civil War?"
Steve's body stiffened.
Memories long buried surged to the surface: the irreparable rift with Tony, the times he and Bucky had fought side by side, the overwhelming sense of helplessness.
He looked into Peggy's worried eyes and finally gave a bitter smile.
"I never planned to stop them again," he said slowly, shaking his head, leaving only exhaustion and acceptance in his gaze.
"Perhaps… this is Bucky's fate."
That day, Henry Stark's declarations at the congressional hearing, and his three cold executions in front of the world, swept across the globe like an earthquake.
"Trial of the Century: Stark Brothers Openly Challenge U.S. Judicial System!"
"Hydra's Shadow Returns: Truth or Lie?"
"Winter Soldier: Forgotten Ghost or Framed Hero?"
"Superman Returns: Savior or Tyrant?"
All media, all social networks, and all television channels discussed the event nonstop, covering the super-event that altered the course of world history.
Some were terrified.
Some questioned it.
Some were angry.
But more people—especially those at the bottom of society who had long lost faith in the government and so-called order—cheered ecstatically.
They didn't care about law or order.
They only saw a god strong enough to disregard all rules.
And He had descended.
And He had declared war on a world long rotten to the core.
In a short time, Henry Stark's fanbase as this new "Superman" grew exponentially worldwide.
The happiest were the newly established Superman and Iron Man licensing and image agency under Stark Industries.
Everyone knew they were about to make a fortune in the coming days.
Meanwhile, at the epicenter of this storm, on the other side of the world:
Malibu beachfront villa, underground lab.
Tony and Henry had returned home.
These two, under the global magnifying glass, were acting as if nothing had happened, circling around a holographic data model and enjoying their victory feast.
Two double-layer cheeseburgers, two glasses of ice-cold cola.
"I've got to say, your cooking is as bad as ever," Henry said around a mouthful of burger, muffled, teasing the robot in its red-and-gold armor trying clumsily to pour him a cola.
"Hey! Don't you dare talk like that about Bumbling!" Tony immediately defended him, snatching the half-spilled cola from the robot's claw. "He just has… unique artistic insight. And for the record, the junk food you're eating was painstakingly brought back by him. You owe him basic respect."
He sipped the overly sweet drink with a grimace, then set the cup down and looked at Henry.
"When do we start? Today?"
"When else?" Henry replied matter-of-factly, taking another bite of his burger.
"Do you want to let them turn the Stark Industries Christmas party into a Hydra annual meeting?"
"Alright," Tony shrugged.
"I was actually going to show you something even better."
"Oh? Really?" Henry glanced at him.
"You're going to send each of them a strongly-worded legal letter, warning them to behave?"
"Of course not that stupid way. I mean the final version of the model I just showed you."
Tony rolled his eyes but quickly became excited. Moments like this, where he could showcase his genius beyond the era, were his favorite. This time, he didn't boast about the database. Instead, he snapped his fingers, and the lab lights dimmed instantly.
"J.A.R.V.I.S."
In the next moment, a neural network model made of pale blue strands unfolded in mid-air above the lab.
At the center was a constantly rotating simulated Earth, and surrounding it, countless fine lines connected thousands of nodes—servers, satellites, surveillance cameras, even personal mobile devices.
The entire model looked like a glowing spiderweb enveloping the planet.
***
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