S.H.I.E.L.D., Triangular Wing Building.
The Avengers, having recovered from their injuries, gathered once more. The atmosphere in the meeting room—expected to be grim—felt strangely off.
Nick Fury, his expression stern, said, "This defeat has been devastating, but we can't just give up. That bastard is still sitting comfortably in the White House. We need to come up with a new operational plan."
"I think we should gather more manpower, and at the same time, be wary of any superhuman forces," Natasha said softly, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "If we can't secure a decisive victory, I doubt any more mages will rescue us next time."
After pausing, she tilted her head at Nick Fury with a hint of confusion. "Fury, why are you always so serious in meetings? Is it to enhance your aura?"
"You can omit the last sentence." Fury shot her a helpless look. Ever since Black Widow had been cursed to speak only the truth, her unfiltered remarks had damaged her relationships—her sharp tongue now rivaled Stark's.
Thor watched silently, bitterness rising in his chest. All of this was happening because of him, and he had to bear the responsibility. "I need to return to the dwarf kingdom of Nidavellir soon. My Mjolnir is shattered, and I must forge a new weapon to restore my combat strength."
"You can still use the Bifrost to teleport?" Hawkeye's holographic projection appeared startled. Cursed as a "lone star," he feared bringing misfortune to those near him, so he avoided meeting in person and resorted to holograms.
Seeing the confusion around the room, Thor smiled. "Technically, it's not allowed during the trial… but Heimdall and I have a good relationship."
Everyone immediately understood.
Tony Stark suddenly crept closer to Thor, reaching out to touch the Asgardian's chest. "These muscles are impressive. What's your workout routine? Ever consider becoming my personal trainer? Trust me—strong, muscular guys like you are always in demand."
Thor recoiled instantly, smacking Stark's hand away in disgust. "Please calm yourself, Tony. I know you don't mean anything by it, but sometimes you really need to tone it down."
"Alright, alright!" Stark shrugged innocently. "Anyway, I've updated Jarvis and upgraded the armor systems. The new Anti-Gilgamesh Armor is fully designed, but I'm stuck on the material requirements."
He glanced at Thor. "If possible, bring back some special metals or alien tech this time."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. can assist with that." Thor was about to respond, but Nick Fury cut in first.
He pulled out a report containing advanced data provided by the Skrulls and handed it to Iron Man.
"This is research on nanotechnology. It might give you inspiration. As for materials—intelligence suggests a man named Ulysses Klaue possesses vibranium. S.H.I.E.L.D. has tracked him for years but never traced the source."
"However, Klaue has lingered near several African tribes for a long time. We suspect the vibranium comes from there. Agents have been sent, but many… never came back."
Fury's expression darkened. "It's clearly tied to vibranium. But to get precise intel, we need to capture Ulysses Klaue."
He turned toward Hawkeye's projection. "Barton, I'm assigning this to you. Bring him back alive."
Hawkeye nodded. His upright appearance was a deception—he was surprisingly good at abductions.
Just then, Agent May burst into the room. "Director! There's been a riot at Base 17! A group of lunatics forced their way in."
"Base 17?" Fury frowned. He managed countless bases worldwide, each with its own function.
But Base 17 was different—more prison than base—holding criminals with low abilities and minimal threat.
"Put the signal through."
As soon as he spoke, a holographic window opened, projecting a 3D display of Base 17.
Within it, prisoners of various backgrounds, armed with stolen weapons, were engaged in a chaotic firefight with the guards.
Several figures immediately stood out.
Doctor Octopus, wielding his mechanical claws like a frenzied beast, hurled guards off rooftops. Electro erupted with volatile sparks, electrocuting foes and allies alike, leaving twitching bodies strewn across the ground.
Dr. Lizard tore open a guard's throat with one savage swipe, roaring in primal fury. Sandman expanded into a towering giant tens of meters high, his swirling yellow mass sweeping across the base like an unstoppable tidal wave.
High above, a green demon riding a wicked glider let out a manic laugh as it scattered pumpkin bombs across the compound.
Boom! Boom!
The explosions rattled Base 17 to its foundations.
"The Evil Alliance?" Nick Fury's expression darkened as he recognized the group, then shot a look at Thor. "These guys were Loki's lackeys. I thought they'd disbanded after the God of Mischief got locked up—but here they are again."
Thor frowned. He didn't expect Loki to have built such a following. Without hesitation, he rose and said, "I will handle this. As the elder brother, I should clean up the trouble caused by my younger one."
Nick Fury only shrugged. If Thor joined the fray, none of these villains would pose a threat. His mastery over lightning—and his sheer godly physique—was overwhelming enough.
But just as Thor was about to leave, Captain America suddenly blocked him.
"What you need to do now is conserve your strength and reacquire your weapons," Steve said firmly. "Don't waste your energy on trivial battles."
His gaze shifted to the holographic projection of the rampaging villains. A cold, almost feral glint flashed in his eyes.
"As for them… leave it to me."
The others exchanged glances. They sensed something unshakeable—and unsettling—behind Rogers' determination, but chose not to question him.
Without another word, Captain America left the conference room, headed straight for the helipad, and boarded a waiting helicopter bound for Base 17.
Recently, battlefields had invaded his dreams—visions soaked in the intoxicating thrill of slaughter, each one pulling him further from himself. Nick Fury, worried about the curse, had been giving him psychological evaluations every few days.
But he didn't know… every test only frayed Rogers' patience further.
The seeds of tyranny had already taken root, quietly sprouting.
And Captain America was growing desperate for a battlefield—
desperate for blood.
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