Footsteps echoed behind Chen Mo.
Baron Strucker emerged slowly from a hidden hatch in the bulkhead — trench coat immaculate, bald head gleaming under the flickering red lights. His eyes burned with hatred, and something darker still… satisfaction.
"Why do you keep standing in my way?!"
His voice trembled with fury as he stalked closer to the steel cage.
"I was this close! I had the power to rule the world — and once again, you appear at the last moment to ruin everything!"
His words came out through clenched teeth, the veins at his temples bulging.
Every shred of his ambition, every calculation, every drop of blood he'd shed — all of it had led to this moment. And now his grand plan was collapsing before his eyes. The factories destroyed, his resources cut off, even his mountain base doomed. The Valkyrie might have taken flight, but it had nowhere to land.
It was like a plane launched from an aircraft carrier, only to watch the carrier sink beneath the waves. There would be no refueling, no repairs — only open sky and an inevitable fall.
But if he was doomed, he would take his enemy — and the world — down with him.
If he couldn't rule it, he would burn it.
New York would die screaming.
Chen Mo stood calmly within the steel cage, watching Strucker's descent into madness with a faint, almost pitying expression.
He could understand it, in a way.
To have the world within your grasp, only to have it ripped away at the finish line — anyone would go mad.
But Chen Mo had no sympathy.
After all, Strucker had been chosen for this role from the very beginning — the puppet villain to his unseen hand.
Sorry,Chen Mo thought dryly. You were never meant to win.
It was almost comedic. Like tricking the neighbor's kid into digging a pit for wild boars — only to push him into it right when the boar showed up.
With a trace of wry amusement, Chen Mo finally spoke.
"Why not head for the Alps Headquarters?"
Strucker froze, eyes widening.
The Alpine Base — the original Hydra command center and, more importantly, the only remaining site capable of supporting the Valkyrie's takeoff and landing operations.
He'd nearly forgotten about it.
Ever since Red Skull's disappearance, that base and several others loyal to him had gone completely silent, cutting all contact with the outside world. Strucker had chosen to ignore them — partly out of fear, partly out of arrogance.
But now, with Chen Mo's words ringing in his ears, a spark of hope flared in his chest.
Of course! He wasn't out of options.
He was still a Hydra founder. Technically, he was continuing Red Skull's "Doomsday Plan." His actions might even be interpreted as loyalty rather than treason.
If he could just reach the Alps, he could consolidate control, claim to be fulfilling Red Skull's orders… and take command of all of Hydra.
He could still rule the world.
A smile crept back onto his face. Then, suspicion struck him like lightning.
He snapped his gaze back toward Chen Mo.
"Wait… how do you know that?!"
The Alps base's location was Hydra's deepest secret — even within their inner circle, no one knew its coordinates but him. How could an Allied commander possibly know not only of its existence but also that it could support the Valkyrie's landing?
A cold wave of dread swept through him.
Dozens of explanations flashed through his mind — none made sense. The man before him stood calm, composed, utterly unshaken.
Strucker's pulse spiked. His voice grew low, dangerous.
"Who are you?"
For the first time, genuine fear flickered in his eyes.
Chen Mo met his gaze — his own eyes dark and fathomless.
"You don't recognize me after just one year, Strucker?"
His voice dropped, deep and resonant, cold enough to freeze blood.
"It's me… Schmidt."
The name hit like a thunderclap.
Strucker's pupils contracted sharply. His whole body stiffened, disbelief twisting across his face.
"You—! You're… Red Skull!?"
The voice — that voice — it was unmistakable. The timbre, the cadence, the quiet menace that only Red Skull possessed.
Panic, realization, and horror collided within him.
In a flash, it all made sense.
Red Skull hadn't vanished. He'd changed — altered his appearance, infiltrated the Allied Strategic Scientific Reserve, and dismantled every part of Strucker's Hydra network from within.
Every victory the Allies had claimed, every Hydra defeat… had been orchestrated by him.
All this time, Strucker had been dancing in the palm of his hand.
"No… no, it can't be…"
But the pieces fit too perfectly. The terror he had always felt under Schmidt's command surged up once more.
Then, something in his expression hardened. The fear turned to rage — to defiance.
"So what if you're Schmidt?" he hissed. "As long as I kill you, Hydra will be mine! The world will be mine!"
His voice cracked into a half-mad snarl.
The cowardice that had once defined him was gone. In its place burned reckless desperation — the kind that comes only when a man has nothing left to lose.
And in his mind, Red Skull — Chen Mo — was already dead.
The cage that held him was built from Hydra's strongest prototype alloy — the densest and toughest metal they'd ever forged. Not even a super-soldier could break free from it.
Strucker sneered, eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction.
He reached toward a nearby lever.
"Goodbye, Herr Schmidt."
With a clang, the heavy top plate of the cage began to descend. Hydraulic pistons groaned to life above, pressing down with terrifying force.
The steel ceiling moved inch by inch, sealing the light away, compressing the space around Chen Mo.
Strucker's grin widened as the machinery roared.
This was no ordinary trap — it was a hydraulic press capable of exerting hundreds of tons of pressure.
Enough to crush a tank.
Enough to turn even the mightiest man… into pulp.
And as the weight began to fall, the Baron laughed — a deep, broken, maniacal sound that echoed through the cavernous Valkyrie like the drums of damnation.