◇ I'll be dropping one bonus chapters for every 10 reviews.
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 100 Power Stones. or 500 Collections
◇ You can read 50 chapter ahead on P@treon of which 10 Chapters are free. if you're interested: patreon.com/Heroicverse
------------------------------------------------
Steve stared at the masked assassin in front of him, brows knit tight.
"I don't like your style," Steve said coldly.
"Stay away from my students."
The Winter Soldier said nothing.
He looked at Captain America and tilted his head.
Behind the mask, something flickered in his eyes.
But he crushed it down.
Primary objective: eliminate target.
Secondary: if outmatched, withdraw.
The Winter Soldier sized up the situation.
The shield-bearer was strong—and the fighter's heavy machine-gun was tracking him.
Withdraw.
Without hesitation the Winter Soldier spun and sprinted, a black-panther blur that cleared the perimeter in three fluid strides.
"Stop!"
Steve hadn't expected such a clean break.
He snapped the shield forward.
"Whoosh—!"
The Vibranium disc sliced through the night, racing for the Winter Soldier's back.
Hearing the hiss of air, the assassin whirled and raised his metal arm.
"Clang!"
A ringing clash of metal on metal.
Steve stared in disbelief.
The killer had caught the whirling Vibranium shield dead-still in one hand.
The shield hummed softly against his palm, motionless.
Clutching it, the Winter Soldier locked eyes with Steve through the darkness.
Those eyes—cold, empty, yet heartbreakingly familiar.
Steve froze.
"You're—"
Before he could finish.
The assassin snapped his hips and flung his arm.
"Woomph!!"
The shield returned faster and harder than it had come.
Steve instinctively caught it.
"Bang!"
The impact shoved him a full meter across the slick ground, arms numbing.
"What strength…"
When he lowered the shield and looked up.
No one was there.
"Captain… Instructor…"
Behind him Iron Arm Joe groaned; the drug had worn off and its brutal side-effects left him twitching and limp.
Steve tore his gaze away, forcing down the unease in his chest.
"Hang on, kid. You'll be okay."
"So you're telling me three super-powered heroes got wiped out by a carbine-and-knife metal-armed killer?"
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
Sunshine blazed over a packed beach.
Behind Homelander a carefully staged "anti-terror op" was wrapping up.
A hundred local gunmen had been herded into the plaza and were surrendering on camera.
Vought's crews filmed his heroic silhouette from every angle.
"Yes, sir," Ashley said nervously from the screen, a busy command center behind her. "The attacker was highly professional—no ordinary criminal. And this is the third incident this week: Detroit, Seattle, Chicago. Someone's hunting our city heroes. No fatalities only because we used T-VEX… otherwise the fallout would've been catastrophic."
"Hunting?" Homelander scoffed, slipping off his shades. "Call it a workout."
"Those brats forgot their training the minute they started doing signings. A real hard-ass was bound to expose them."
He took the fresh milk Jessica handed him, unconcerned.
"Steve Rogers is taking this very seriously," Ashley said cautiously. "It was his trainee. He's investigating personally—suspects super-serum enhancement."
"Let him."
Homelander waved her off, stood, and flashed a sunny grin at the distant tourists, drawing squeals.
"As for that metal-arm killer…"
Contempt flickered across Homelander's eyes.
Bucky Barnes. Winter Soldier.
HYDRA's old mop-up tool—and Captain America's forever white moonlight.
Whitewashed into a weakling. Still is.
"Don't bother me with trivia."
Brazilians had gathered, waving at the live feed. Homelander gave them a thumbs-up and kept talking.
"I'm busy saving the World and earning Vought a trillion in brand value."
"Let Steve play his cat-and-mouse game."
"Tell him: they're his students, so he handles it. Give him whatever backup he needs."
"Understood, sir."
A touching reunion, Homelander mused. Won't it be?
The call ended.
Homelander pocketed the phone in his magic space and strode toward the crowd.
"All right, Rio! Let me hear you!"
"Tell me—who's the real hero here?!"
"Homelander! Homelander!!"
"No—YOU…"
Amid the tsunami of cheers Homelander spread his arms, drinking in the surging popularity… Upstate New York, V.G.D Command.
Steve Rogers sat at the conference table studying photos on the screen.
Close-ups from the crime-scene.
Under the lights the red star on the metal arm glared.
"Captain,"
Ashley walked over with her tablet.
"I ran your description against global intel databases."
Her fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling a sealed file.
"This isn't a common criminal. The arm's tech is archaic—Soviet-era."
"And our tech team ran special facial-recognition; even with the mask, bone-structure mapping…"
Ashley hesitated, looking at Steve.
"Results?" His voice was low.
"No direct match, but his pattern mirrors a ghost-assassin from the legends."
An old monochrome file flashed up.
Back when Skye was around she'd pried it from S.H.I.E.L.D. archives.
Code-name: Winter Soldier.
"For fifty years—Kennedy, the Iran hostage crisis, key political hits—witnesses swear they saw a man with a metal arm."
"A ghost," Ashley murmured. "But S.H.I.E.L.D. calls it urban legend."
Steve studied the file, fingers brushing the blurry monochrome figure on screen.
That sense of déjà vu washed over him again.
Those eyes.
But he couldn't be sure.
"Get me everything on this Winter Soldier," Steve said flatly.
"That's all S.H.I.E.L.D.'s declassified files have," Ashley shrugged. "Maybe ask Director Nick Fury—his clearance can give you the rest."
"Then go find him."
Steve lifted his shield and strode for the door.