New Jersey, an abandoned military base.
Steve, Coulson, and Hill's car pulled up in front of the rusty iron gate. Through the windshield, they could see collapsing barracks and overgrown training fields.
"This place looks like it's been deserted for decades," Hill said, scanning the area.
"Records show it was a World War II training camp," Coulson replied, checking his tablet. "Shut down after 1946."
Steve stepped out of the car, his eyes tracing the weathered buildings. A wave of familiarity hit him. "I know this place. I trained here in 1943, right after I became a super-soldier. Back then it was called Camp Lehigh."
The three walked through the broken gate, following a weed-choked path until Steve stopped at a building that looked more intact than the others.
"This was the command center," Steve said firmly.
Coulson knelt and worked the lock. "If Voss is right, Zola's computer should be in here."
The lock clicked, and they pushed inside. Their flashlights cut through thick dust and faded military slogans peeling from the walls.
"This way," Steve led them down into the basement.
The underground room was larger than expected and eerily well-preserved. Banks of 1940s computers lined the walls—vacuum tubes, reel-to-reel tape, and hulking processors.
"These things look like they could still run," Hill muttered.
Coulson found the power switch. The machines hummed to life, filling the room with a low buzz. Green characters flickered onto a screen.
"Visitor detected. Identity confirming…" a synthetic voice droned.
The three tensed, Steve instinctively moving in front of the others.
"Steve Rogers, born July 4, 1918. Phil Coulson, S.H.I.E.L.D. Level 8 Agent. Maria Hill, Deputy Director."
Hill tightened her grip on her pistol. "How does it know who we are?"
A black-and-white photo appeared on the screen—thin man, glasses.
"Welcome to my resting place," the image said. "I am Dr. Arnim Zola."
Steve's eyes widened. "Zola… you actually—"
"Death is only the end of flesh," Zola cut him off, smug. "In 1972, as cancer consumed me, I transferred my mind into these machines. Two hundred thousand feet of magnetic tape, endless circuits… this is my new body."
"You're insane," Coulson snapped, raising his gun.
"Insane?" Zola chuckled. "I am a visionary. Hydra gave me decades of resources—supplied, ironically, by your S.H.I.E.L.D."
Hill's face drained of color. "What do you mean?"
The screens lit up with classified files and photographs—Hydra agents climbing the ranks inside government offices.
"After the war, your government recruited us through Operation Paperclip," Zola explained. "On the surface, we served America. In truth, we rebuilt Hydra from the inside."
"No…" Coulson shook his head. "S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded to protect the world."
"Protect it?" Zola's laugh echoed through the speakers. "S.H.I.E.L.D. was our host. We grew like a parasite—until we became the host."
Steve's fists tightened. "Howard Stark. Was that you?"
Images of Howard's fatal car crash flashed on-screen—along with a masked assassin.
"Stark's research endangered Hydra. We sent our proudest weapon—the Winter Soldier."
Steve's breath caught. "Bucky…"
"Yes, your friend Barnes." Zola pulled up his file. "We found him broken, missing an arm. Hydra rebuilt him—metal arm, memory wiped, reflexes conditioned. A perfect killer."
Hill's stomach turned as a list of assassinations scrolled across the screen. "How many?"
"Countless," Zola said coldly. "Politicians, scientists, journalists—even ordinary citizens. My algorithm identified threats. The Winter Soldier removed them."
"You monster!" Coulson slammed his fist on the console.
"Monster? No. Prophet." More files appeared. "You've only seen the surface. Hydra now controls entire agencies. Alexander Pierce—your trusted mentor—is our commander."
Steve slammed a fist into the wall. "Why tell us this?"
"Because it's already too late." Zola's voice darkened.
"Project Insight is nearly ready. Three Helicarriers, my algorithm guiding them. Millions of targets can be eliminated in minutes."
The screen shifted to schematics and a target list.
"There are twenty million names here," Hill whispered, scrolling. "Scientists, officers, civilians…"
"Anyone Hydra deems dangerous," Zola gloated. "Once the carriers launch, resistance will be mathematically impossible."
"Steve," Coulson said grimly, "your name's on the list."
"Of course," Zola sneered. "Captain America. And Stark. Fury too—his instincts cut too close."
Steve's fury boiled over. "You'll never win!"
Zola laughed. "We already have. And you—"
Suddenly, alarms wailed. Red lights flashed.
"Intruder detected. Self-destruct initiated."
Hill's eyes went wide. "It's going to blow this place sky-high!"
"Correct. Secrets must stay buried," Zola said frantically. "You'll die with them."
The countdown began: 30… 29… 28…
"Move!" Steve grabbed Coulson and Hill. They bolted up the corridor, the building shaking violently.
"Here!" Steve kicked open a side door.
10… 9… 8…
A manhole cover glinted ahead. Steve yanked it open, diving in. Coulson and Hill followed.
3… 2… 1…
The explosion ripped through the base, a fireball consuming the ruins. The shockwave rattled the sewers as dirt and debris rained down.
When the tremors finally faded, the three climbed out, coughing and covered in ash.
Hill brushed herself off. "All the evidence is gone."
"No," Steve said, staring at the burning ruins. "We got what mattered. Hydra is alive. And it's inside S.H.I.E.L.D."
Coulson checked his phone. "We need to warn Fury."
"No," Hill said quickly. "They could be monitoring communications. We head back in person."
Steve's jaw tightened. "Zola said Project Insight launches soon. We're running out of time."
They piled into the car and sped into the night. The silence was heavy until Coulson finally asked, "Steve… about Bucky…"
"I'll save him," Steve said firmly. "No matter what Hydra's done, he's still my friend."
Hill's eyes flicked to the mirror. "If Pierce really is Hydra, who else can we even trust?"
"The people Voss mentioned," Coulson said quietly. "You. Barton. And Romanoff."
"Natasha Romanoff," Steve said the name aloud.
Hill exhaled slowly. "Then Voss really was telling the truth."
The car raced toward Washington. Each of them knew the war had already begun. Hydra had been hiding in the shadows for seventy years—and now their fangs were bared.
"We have to stop Insight," Steve said, his hand tightening into a fist. "Innocent lives can't be sacrificed to Hydra's ambition."
Hill nodded grimly. "Then we'd better pray Fury's still alive. If Pierce has already moved on him, we're in this alone."