It was 3 a.m.—the hour when most people slept the deepest, and when the shadows worked most freely.
A heavily armed strike team arrived at their destination: an ordinary-looking apartment building.
Their target—Lucas's apartment.
"The target is inside. Move in."
At the captain's command, the squad immediately divided into groups. A sniper took position on the rooftop opposite the building, rifle trained on the windows, ready to provide overwatch.
Team A would infiltrate through the ventilation system, while Team B prepared to storm the main entrance.
"Go, go, go!"
With practiced precision, the two groups launched into motion.
Inside the apartment, Moguli—the fluffy white moogle—had already stirred from sleep.
Its beady eyes glowed faintly as it stared at the door, as if sensing something.
"Ku-poh~~"
With a thoughtful hum, it waved its tiny staff. A swirl of seven-colored energy rippled through the air before fading almost instantly—vanishing as if it had never been.
Meanwhile, on the rooftop, the infiltration team had begun cutting through the ventilation ducts.
But within moments, their diamond-edged saws began to dull—and still, the ducts remained unscathed. Not a single scratch.
"Captain, the vents are made of something crazy tough! The cutter's useless—it won't even leave a mark!"
The captain, listening from below, cursed under his breath. "Useless idiots. Forget stealth—front assault! Prepare to breach!"
At his signal, one operative moved to pick the lock, while another tried to hack the building's network to disable all surveillance feeds.
Minutes dragged on. Ten, fifteen…
The captain's patience snapped. "What the hell's taking so long?!"
"The lock's weird," the locksmith grunted. "Looks simple, but the mechanism's insanely complex. I need more time."
"And the network's a fortress," the hacker added. "Layered encryption—whoever lives here knows their tech."
"Shit. Enough! Plant explosives—we're going in hard. Sniper, cover the approach. Team B, place charges on the rooftop vent!"
"Roger that!"
"Affirmative!"
Within seconds, plastic explosives were set on both the front door and the vent openings.
"Three… two… one—detonate!"
BOOM!
Twin explosions rocked the night. Smoke and dust burst outward—
But when it cleared… both the door and vents were completely untouched.
"What the hell?!"
The captain's eyes widened. "That's impossible! Even the CIA doesn't have this kind of security!"
"Damn it!" he roared. "Get the Winter Soldier. It's his turn."
Without a word, the metal-armed man stepped forward.
His left arm gleamed coldly in the dim light—built from an alloy strong enough to punch through tank armor.
He drew back his fist and slammed it against the door.
BOOM!
But instead of shattering, a shimmering seven-colored barrier flared to life, absorbing the blow with a dull thud.
He struck again and again, metal clashing against the unseen shield—yet the barrier remained perfectly intact.
Outside, the noise from the explosions and pounding had already drawn attention. Lights flickered on in neighboring apartments, and the distant wail of sirens grew louder.
A patrol car rounded the corner—someone had reported the disturbance.
"Damn it! Cops incoming!" the sniper warned.
"Abort mission! Pull out!"
The captain didn't hesitate. The team scattered into the shadows just moments before the NYPD arrived on scene.
The two groups passed like ghosts—one fading away as the other rolled up to investigate.
And inside the apartment?
Lucas slept soundly, snoring like a log—completely oblivious to the chaos outside.
---
The special ops team retreated to their safehouse, frustration heavy in the air.
"Captain," one of them said, handing over a satellite phone, "the building's not normal. Even the Winter Soldier couldn't break through. Command's calling. What do we tell them?"
"I'll handle it."
The captain stepped aside and answered the encrypted call.
"Report."
The voice on the other end was cold, deep, and commanding.
"The mission failed, sir," the captain said carefully.
"Explain."
He swallowed. "The target's apartment is… fortified. Unbreakable doors, impossible network security. Even the Winter Soldier was ineffective."
Silence lingered for a few seconds. Then the voice spoke again.
"Then draw him out. I don't care how. We must capture him alive. He's a key piece in our grand design—failure is not an option."
"Yes, sir. I understand."
The captain's voice lowered, respectful and solemn. "Hail Hydra."
---
The next morning, Lucas finally learned about the attack—when Skye showed him the surveillance footage.
"HAHAHAHA! Oh—oh my god—ahahahah!!"
Lucas laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch. "A whole professional strike team, and they spent the night… lighting fireworks at my door!"
Gwen and Skye both facepalmed.
"That's your takeaway?!" Skye snapped. "They attacked your apartment, Lucas!"
Lucas waved it off. "What's there to worry about? With Moguli on watch, who could possibly get in? Thanos himself would take one look and turn around."
Gwen frowned. "Aren't you at least curious who sent them? Armed commandos don't just break into random apartments!"
Lucas's smile faded slightly. "If I had to guess—Ross. The old bastard must've sent them. Gave him a scare last night, and he still hasn't learned his lesson."
He pulled out his phone and made a rare call.
"Now this is a surprise," Nick Fury's dry voice came through. "The famous Mr. Norman calling me? Did Tony put you up to this, or are you finally bored of peace and quiet?"
"Cut the sarcasm, Black Egg," Lucas said flatly.
The nickname had spread throughout S.H.I.E.L.D. like wildfire—though no one dared say it to Fury's face. The Director's temper had grown so foul that agents now swore his office was haunted by pure resentment.
Lucas rolled his eyes. "My apartment was attacked last night. A squad of armed operatives. Don't tell me your people didn't notice."
"Motherfu—what?!" Fury's tone shifted immediately. "No one reported this!"
"Check your surveillance team," Lucas said. "Either they're deaf or dead asleep. Skye's sending you the footage now. Maybe rotate your babysitters—they're useless."
As soon as he finished, Skye tapped send—
and the video of the failed Hydra assault began uploading straight to Fury's terminal.
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