Once a direction for the investigation had been established, everything became far clearer.
An unseen enemy was terrifying—but once the enemy was dragged into the sunlight, the fog lifted.
They began by tracing authority within S.H.I.E.L.D.—specifically, those who had the power to authorize missile launches. All paths led to one man: Secretary of State Alexander Pierce.
In the underground bunker, the digitized consciousness of Dr. Arnim Zola had revealed that the Lemurian Star satellites carried an algorithm of his own creation. Access to Zola himself was extremely limited. Within S.H.I.E.L.D., aside from Pierce, the only person with that level of clearance was Agent Sitwell.
As Steve and Natasha discussed how to seize Sitwell without alerting S.H.I.E.L.D., Sam handed Steve a file.
Inside was Sam's mission history.
"Consider it my résumé," Sam said lightly.
Steve raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were a pilot."
"I never said that."
Steve shook his head. "I can't ask you to risk your life with us, Sam. You've earned a quiet life."
"Come on," Sam grinned. "Captain America needs my help. What better excuse is there for a comeback?"
Sam had grown tired of peaceful, monotonous days. He missed the edge, the purpose. And helping his hero? That was more than enough reason.
With Sam's insistence, the team expanded from two to three.
Once the plan was set, Sam started the car.
"Hey, Cap," Sam said casually, sensing the heavy mood. "Didn't you say that kid from New York was coming to D.C.? You're supposed to pick her up."
"I'm afraid I'll have to break that promise," Steve said quietly. "I'll apologize once this is over."
He wondered whether Carlawould be upset. Truth be told, he'd never really seen her angry at anyone.
"You think she might come looking for you?" Sam asked. "Did you tell her where you live?"
"No. I only told her I worked at S.H.I.E.L.D."
The car fell silent.
After a moment, Natasha patted Steve's shoulder. "She'll be fine. That kid's smart. And S.H.I.E.L.D. is on full lockdown—civilians won't be allowed near it."
"Sam, can I borrow your phone?" Steve asked. "I ditched mine. It was compromised."
The call went straight to voicemail.
"Her phone's probably dead," Natasha said calmly. "If she were inside S.H.I.E.L.D., they'd make sure it stayed on."
"That's what worries me," Steve muttered. "She's… kind of directionally challenged."
Natasha laughed. "So she has flaws after all. Don't worry—even if she gets lost, as long as she's still on Earth, I can find her."
----
Agent 128, tasked with tailing Carla, watched in disbelief as she circled the same block for the third time.
He desperately wanted to run up and escort her straight back to S.H.I.E.L.D.
But orders were orders—no alerting Captain America. He had patience. Agents always did.
-----
Agent Sitwell went about his day as usual, completely unaware that a wanted fugitive like Steve Rogers would dare abduct him in broad daylight.
But that was exactly what happened.
Following Sam's instructions over the phone, Sitwell entered Sam's car. The threat was clear—comply, or be shot.
The abduction itself was handled by Sam and Natasha. Steve—the most recognizable face on the planet—waited in an unremarkable building. Once Sitwell arrived, Steve escorted him to the rooftop.
"Explain Zola's algorithm," Steve demanded.
"I've never heard of it," Sitwell replied smoothly.
Steve pressed closer. "What were you doing aboard the Lemurian Star?"
"I was seasick. I was throwing up."
Backed toward the edge, Sitwell nearly fell—but Steve grabbed him.
"You're implying you could throw me off the building," Sitwell sneered. "That's not your style, Rogers."
Then Natasha kicked him off the roof.
What Captain America wouldn't do, Black Widow would.
Ten seconds later, Sam—soaring like an eagle with mechanical wings—caught Sitwell mid-fall and hauled him back up.
That was enough.
Sitwell confessed everything.
Zola's algorithm selected targets for Project Insight: Captain America, the Hulk, Doctor Strange, the Secretary of Defense—anyone who posed a present or future threat to HYDRA.
Using banking records, medical histories, voting patterns, phone metadata, academic performance—everything—Zola's system predicted human potential.
And then Project Insight erased them.
Millions of lives.
A calculated genocide.
It would begin the moment the three Helicarriers launched.
Sixteen hours remained.
Steve planned to use Sitwell to bypass DNA scans and infiltrate the carriers—but the plan failed.
A metallic arm smashed through the car window, yanking Sitwell out.
He was hurled into oncoming traffic.
A truck hit him head-on.
-----
Carla walked calmly through Washington, map in hand, stopping now and then to point in the direction she thought was right.
Agent 128 followed at a distance, chewing on a hamburger. At this point, he considered the assignment a paid vacation. Hunting Captain America wasn't something he wanted any part of—as long as he didn't lose the kid, he'd done his job.
Then panic erupted.
People screamed and ran.
Carla looked up, dazed. Washington's twisting streets had already left her hopelessly disoriented. The crackle of gunfire barely registered.
And then she saw it.
A star-spangled shield, lying by the roadside.
Agent 128 went pale.
The reckless kid ignored the firefight and ran straight for it.
He dropped his burger and sprinted.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" Carla protested as she was suddenly scooped off the ground.
"Are you crazy?! When bullets start flying, you run—far away!"
Agent 128 bolted with her in his arms.
Above them, armed men with heavy machine guns leapt down from an overpass.
Anyone caught there would be torn apart.
And so, without realizing it, Carla stepped directly into the opening moments of a war that would decide the fate of the world.
--------------
T/N:
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