Garrett ignored the retreating Baron Strucker, his gaze locked on the restrained Coulson and the girl with trembling fingers—Wanda Maximoff, the future Scarlet Witch.
As Wanda delved deeper into Coulson's fragmented memories, her expression contorted with strain. Faint arcs of red light pulsed from her fingers, feeding into Coulson's mind and drawing out suppressed horrors.
"What did you do to them!?" Wanda suddenly cried out, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief.
"I'm sorry, I must be like that, I'm sorry, I must be like that…"
Coulson repeated those words like a broken record, his body trembling as pain and sorrow overtook him. He had overseen the resurrection project, injecting alien-derived serums to revive fallen S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. But the process demanded a price—unspeakable suffering and memory erasure.
Wanda gasped and released him, breath ragged. Without the Scepter's amplification, her chaos magic was unstable and drained her quickly.
"How much did you see?" Garrett asked, taking a step forward. Pietro stepped in between them, protective.
"An experimental base… extracting alien tissue to develop resurrection serum," Wanda whispered. Her disbelief was palpable. "They… they used Kree corpses. It brings back the dead—but changes them."
Garrett's eyes flared with desperate hope. "Kree? That's it! That's what I need! Where is the facility!?"
Wanda gave him the coordinates. She didn't mention the madness—how the serum twisted minds and left agents screaming in their sleep. Her empathy flared, but she remained silent.
At that moment, a red-gold blur sliced across the sky above them. The approaching figure dove from the clouds like a missile, a sonic boom chasing its descent.
"They're here," Pietro muttered. "We have to move—now!"
Before Garrett could react, Pietro grabbed Wanda and sprinted from the scene in a streak of motion.
"We can take him," Pietro said as he ran, his grip tight. "He's just one man. I'll draw his fire, you use your magic. Make Stark feel everything we felt."
Wanda nodded nervously, her red aura flickering. They had joined Hydra not out of allegiance, but for vengeance. The one responsible for their parents' deaths was Tony Stark. And now, he was close.
But it wasn't Tony Stark they faced.
It was Shen He.
Descending from the sky like a meteor, Shen He's mech-powered form landed beside Black Bolt and the Inhuman survivors. Twin bursts from his forearm launchers knocked two Hydra helicopters from the air.
"Black Bolt. Shen He, at your service."
Black Bolt offered a silent nod. Jarvis's live translation converted it into speech: "We are grateful. One of my kin is still trapped in the fortress. Can you assist?"
"Count on it," Shen He replied, signaling a mental link to summon his allies.
In a blink, spatial distortions tore open midair. Violet shimmered into view with Qi Mu Nanzi suspended above the battlefield. Two Rituals unsheathed her blade with eerie calm. Joan of Arc stood last, still clutching shopping bags.
"…He's not alone," Pietro whispered, frozen mid-stride.
He turned around without hesitation, scooping up Wanda and running full speed in retreat.
But Shen He had already noticed them.
"Scarlet Witch. Quicksilver." He narrowed his eyes. "Qi Mu—don't let them escape."
"You're not going anywhere," Nanzi said, her voice cool.
She surged forward. Even unawakened, Pietro's speed was far below her Rank 16 spiritual body. She intercepted him within seconds, her mind force paralyzing the twins mid-run.
Wanda tried to channel her chaos magic, red tendrils spilling from her palms. She attempted to enter Nanzi's mind—only to be violently expelled by a maelstrom of spiritual turbulence. Her power couldn't even pierce the surface.
The Maximoff twins were being completely overpowered—by raw strength and spiritual supremacy alike.
Shen He stepped forward, opening his mech visor to look them in the eye.
"Why are you here?" he asked calmly.
"You're not Stark!" Pietro yelled, shielding his sister. "Who the hell are you?!"
"A friend of Tony's," Shen He replied. "Qi Mu, watch them. Protect the Inhumans. The rest—free to engage."
At once, the battlefield came alive.
Two Rituals dashed forward like crimson lightning, evading machine-gun fire with ghostly precision. Her blade met a tank and sliced clean through. The steel construct disintegrated in seconds, split into pieces so cleanly they barely made a sound until they hit the ground.
"She's mastering the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception," Shen He noted.
He rocketed into the sky, intercepting a swarm of Hydra drones. Before he could act, a streak of golden light exploded beside him—Joan of Arc, now airborne.
Despite lacking flight powers, her divine aura created a pseudo-levitation. She leapt nearly 100 meters into the air and crashed her glowing spear into a helicopter's rotor with surgical force.
Metal screamed. Sparks erupted.
Joan somersaulted through the explosion, spinning like a comet and rebounding into the next aircraft.
She had only just begun.
Each hero's power varied in scale, but together, their presence was overwhelming. The Hydra strike force—a unit designed to trap superhumans—lasted only minutes before shattering.
By the time Tony arrived in his new Mark 62 armor, the battle was already over.
"Tell me I didn't miss everything," Tony quipped, landing beside Qi Mu Nanzi and lifting his visor.
"Tony Stark!"
Pietro sprang up with murderous intent—only to be slammed down again by Nanzi's force.
Tony blinked. "What's up with him? A fanboy?"
Then he saw it—the smoldering hate in the twins' eyes.