Chapter 351: This is a conspiracy!!!
The speed at which the matter fermented was even faster than Tsunade and her group expected.
That very night, aerial footage of the explosion site was broadcast on a loop across all news channels.
The deaths of dozens of innocent citizens were infinitely magnified and repeatedly sensationalized.
Meanwhile, the figures of those illegal superpowered individuals who had acted in the footage—such as Mai Shiranui, Tifa, and Marie Rose—were deliberately given close-ups.
"Illegal superpowered individuals had a fierce conflict with law enforcers on the streets of New York, causing the deaths of dozens of innocent citizens!"
"These superpowered individuals are unregistered, do not wear tracking bracelets, use their abilities recklessly, and regard the lives of ordinary people as grass!"
The news anchor's voice was righteous and stern, giving the feeling as if they were saying all this was caused by superpowered individuals failing to register.
Among them, the actions of law enforcers engaging in brutal enforcement and using destructive weapons while ignoring the safety of surrounding civilians were deliberately downplayed by them.
Anyone with a bit of a brain could see that this was the media deliberately driving a narrative.
"According to the investigation, these superpowered individuals come from the same place."
"That Morgan Manor located in the suburbs of New York; the owner of the manor is the current Family Head of the Morgan Family, Loren Morgan."
"He is not registered, and his followers are not registered either."
"They are illegal superpowered individuals and a hidden danger threatening public safety!"
On social networks, public opinion completely spiraled out of control.
"How does he possess so many superpowered individuals? What does he want to do?"
"His women kill people right on the street! Dozens of people! And those three hundred and seventeen children from before, it might also be related to him!"
"Drive him away! Drive these monsters away, make these monsters get out of our country, preferably get out of Earth, get out of this World!"
Online, there were overwhelming denunciations against Loren, as if Loren was the instigator of the entire event.
Not only that, but thousands of people actually gathered at the entrance of Morgan Manor, holding banners to protest.
They held up slogans and shouted slogans, blocking the manor's gates tightly.
"Loren, get out of Earth!"
"All superpowered individuals are monsters!"
"Return my child's life!"
Placards swayed in the sunlight, and the shouts rose higher and higher in waves.
Among the crowd, there were truly angry citizens and families who had lost loved ones.
There were also those hidden deep within the crowd, with satisfied smiles hanging on the corners of their mouths.
They wore ordinary people's clothes, held the most radical slogans, and shouted the most instigating slogans.
They spread rumors among the crowd, stirred up emotions, and ensured that this protest would never subside.
Inside the manor, everyone gathered in the living room.
On the huge holographic screen, real-time footage from outside the manor was playing.
Thousands of protesters surrounded the manor tightly, the red and blue lights of police cars flickered in the distance, and media broadcast trucks filled the entire highway.
Mai Shiranui curled up on the sofa, hugging a cushion, her eye sockets red and swollen.
She had been crying for a long time, her eyes swollen like walnuts.
Tifa sat beside her, gently patting her back, but her own expression was also very grim.
Marie Rose sat in the corner, hugging her knees, saying not a word.
Although everyone else's expressions were different, their moods were all equally gloomy.
"Master, I'm sorry, it's all our fault. If we hadn't made a move, we wouldn't have been plotted against by those damn guys!"
Tsunade raised her head, looking at Loren with a hoarse voice, and said.
Hearing this, Loren, who was standing aside, shook his head with a calm expression: "It's not your fault, why apologize?"
"This is obviously a conspiracy meticulously targeted at me. Even if you didn't act, they would find other opportunities to slander me."
Loren's voice was calm, yet carried an unquestionable certainty.
He walked in front of the holographic screen, looking at those protesters waving banners, looking at those ordinary people driven by fear and anger who had lost their judgment.
"This is not an accident, this is designed. These guys are people from HYDRA!"
Everyone looked at him.
Loren turned around, facing them.
His eyes were still that profound black.
But at this moment, there was something in those eyes that they had never seen before.
Not anger, not killing intent, but a clarity that saw through the essence.
"After the explosion happened, I was already investigating."
Loren's voice was unhurried, like stating a puzzle that had already been solved.
"The deaths of three hundred and seventeen children were indeed done by superpowered individuals."
"But not ordinary superpowered individuals; those are human bombs specially modified and cultivated by HYDRA."
"They were implanted with energy cores and detonated at designated locations, creating the illusion of a superpowered individual attack."
The living room was dead silent.
"In the promotion of the Superhuman Registration Act, HYDRA put in the greatest effort behind the scenes."
"They need chaos, they need heroes to infight, they need the public's fear of superpowered individuals to reach its peak. Then, they can take the opportunity to control everything."
Loren raised his hand, pulling up a series of data and files on the holographic screen.
That was what he had directly extracted from HYDRA's encrypted network over the past three days using Dark Magic and technological means.
"As for yesterday's street conflict..."
His voice became colder.
"Those law enforcers, half of them are HYDRA people, and the person who launched the bomb is too."
"Their purpose is not to capture that girl, but to create a larger tragedy, frame the crime on you guys, and then through public opinion, force me..."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across every person present.
"Leave Earth."
Silence.
Then, Mai Shiranui's voice sounded tremblingly: "So... those people's deaths... is it because of me?"
"It is because of HYDRA." Loren corrected her.
"You acted to save people, and there is no fault in that. The fault lies with those who use the lives of innocents, manipulate public opinion, and try to control the World."
He walked in front of Mai, looking down at her: "Mai, you don't need to take responsibility for HYDRA's crimes."
Mai's tears flowed down again, but this time, not because of guilt, but because... of being understood.
"Master..."
She threw herself into Loren's arms, crying like a child.
Loren gently patted her back, then raised his head, looking toward the protesters outside the window who were still shouting slogans.
"What about them? They won't believe our explanation. Even if we bring out the evidence, they will say it's forged." Tsunade pointed outside the window and said.
"I know," Loren said.
He released Mai Shiranui, walked to the window, and looked at those people driven by fear and anger.
Among them, most people are kind and innocent, just being used.
"Angry people won't listen to explanations, fearful people won't look at evidence."
"They need an outlet, they need a target to blame, and right now I am that target."
"Then what do you plan to do?" 18 asked, with a rare earnest tone.
Loren fell silent for a moment.
Then, he said a sentence that left everyone stunned:
"I will resolve HYDRA, and then, I will make everyone forget about this matter."
Chapter 352: Forget All of This!
Late at night, the protesters outside the manor had not dispersed yet.
They had set up tents and lit bonfires, and the sound of slogans drifted intermittently in the night wind.
More than half of the lights inside the manor had gone out, and most people had been persuaded by Loren to go rest.
Only Wanda was still standing beside him, watching him stand by the window without saying a word.
"What do you plan to do?" Wanda asked softly.
Loren did not answer. He simply raised his hand, palm facing upward.
A pitch-black, living-creature-like energy emerged from his palm.
That was the origin of Dark Magic, the power left behind by Chthon that he had completely mastered.
This mass of energy slowly rotated in his palm, exuding an ancient and profound aura.
"HYDRA has thirty-seven major strongholds globally, with twelve thousand four hundred and thirty-one core members."
Loren's voice was as calm as if he were reading a report.
"Their upper echelons are currently gathering in the underground headquarters in Washington, D.C., celebrating that their plan is about to succeed."
Wanda did not speak, simply watching him quietly.
"They think that I will be angry, disappointed, and leave disheartened." There was a hint of icy mockery in Loren's voice.
"They think public opinion can force me back, and fear can defeat me."
He clenched his fist, and that mass of dark energy silently dissipated between his fingers.
"They are wrong."
Loren turned around and looked at Wanda.
Those black eyes were as deep as an abyss at this moment, yet as clear as a mirror.
"Wanda, protect everyone well. I'll be right back."
"Master!" Wanda wanted to say something, but Loren's figure had already disappeared.
Washington, D.C., three hundred meters underground, HYDRA headquarters.
In the huge circular conference hall, dozens of HYDRAupper echelons sat around a long oval table.
The holographic screen on the wall was playing real-time footage outside Loren's manor.
The protesters were still shouting slogans, the media was still adding fuel to the fire, and public opinion was still fermenting.
"Everything is going according to plan." A middle-aged man in a black suit stood up with a smug smile on his face.
"Loren's reputation has plummeted to the bottom, and the public's calls for him to get out of Earth are getting louder and louder. In a few days, even if he doesn't leave, the government will take action against him under pressure."
"But his strength is extraordinary—" another voice came from the other end of the table with a hint of worry, "If he gets angry..."
"Isn't that even better? That would only substantiate his threat to ordinary civilians even more. By then, civilians will only hate him even more, and hatred is the most terrifying power in this World!"
"Are you sure?"
"Sure, we have already—"
He didn't finish his sentence.
Because there was suddenly one more person in the conference hall.
He was standing right in the center of the long table, stepping on those expensive mahogany table surfaces.
Wearing a white shirt, with black hair and black eyes, there was no expression on his face.
Loren.
"Good evening, everyone!" he said. His voice was not loud, but everyone heard it clearly.
Inside the conference hall, there was a deathly silence.
Then, the alarm suddenly sounded.
Dozens of HYDRA Agent rushed in from various entrances, aiming their energy weapons at the person on the table.
Loren didn't look at them. He just lowered his head, looking at those pale-faced HYDRA upper echelons, the corners of his mouth curving slightly into an arc.
It was not a smile, but a kind of toyed-with disdain of a cat watching a mouse!
"You guys spent a lot of thought—explosions, bills, civil war, street conflicts, public opinion offensives...
Every step was meticulously designed, and every link was watertight.
To be honest, your execution made me a bit surprised."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across everyone present.
"But you made a mistake."
No one dared to speak.
"You think that I am the kind of person who would be defeated by public opinion." Loren's voice was frighteningly calm.
"You think that I would care about human views, be sad because they call me a monster, and be angry because they tell me to get out of Earth."
He squatted down, making eye-level contact with the nearest HYDRA upper echelon.
"But you are wrong."
He stood up and looked around.
"I don't care about public opinion, I don't care what they call me, I don't care what banners they hold or what slogans they shout." His voice had no emotional fluctuation.
"Because their anger, just like the roar of ants, poses no threat to me." As he spoke, he raised his hand and spread his five fingers.
The origin of Dark Magic surged out from his palm like a tide, instantly filling the entire conference hall.
That was not ordinary darkness; that was the abyss itself, the absolute nothingness that devoured all light.
The weapons in the hands of those HYDRA Agent turned into powder silently the moment the darkness touched them.
Their bodies froze in place, unable to move the moment they were engulfed by the darkness.
"Twelve thousand four hundred and thirty-one people."
Loren read out this number, his voice carrying a strange rhythm like a requiem.
"Thirty-seven strongholds globally, tonight, not a single one remains."
His fingers clenched gently.
In the underground conference hall of the Washingtonheadquarters, the bodies of those HYDRA upper echelons began to slowly dissipate from the edges.
It was not an explosion, nor burning, but turning into nothingness bit by bit as if they had never existed.
There were no screams, no struggles.
They just widened their eyes, watching their bodies collapse like sand sculptures, and then their consciousness fell into eternal darkness.
Ten seconds, twelve thousand four hundred and thirty-one lives completely disappeared from Earth.
Loren stood in the empty conference hall, surrounded by scattered clothes and empty chairs.
There was no expression on his face, and his eyes were as calm as water.
Early the next morning, the protesters outside the manor were still there.
Most of them had slept in tents for the night and were now rubbing their sleepy eyes, getting ready to start a new day of protests.
The media broadcast vehicles were also still there, and reporters were drinking coffee, preparing for today's reports.
Then, Loren appeared.
He walked out of the manor's gates, wearing that white shirt, with his hands in his pockets and a calm pace.
The sunlight shone on him, casting a long shadow.
The protesters were stunned. Then, angry voices began to sound:
"Murderer! Get out of Earth!"
"You still have the face to come out!"
"Give us back our children!"
Loren ignored those slogans. He just stood at the manor's entrance, facing thousands of angry protesters and those camera lenses pointing at him like guns and cannons, and calmly raised his hand.
The origin of Dark Magic flowed silently in his palm.
Then, he spoke.
His voice was not loud, but everyone heard it clearly, as if the sound didn't enter from their ears, but directly resounded in the depths of their souls.
"Forget all of this!"
Then the banners in the hands of those protesters slipped down silently.
The images in the lenses of those reporters were silently erased.
The data stored on servers, the headlines printed on newspapers, and the angry remarks spread on social networks.
Everything related to this storm disappeared silently in the lingering resonance of that word.
It was not deletion, nor overwriting, but a complete erasure from the real World.
Chapter 353: Eat Mine, Mine Is Sweeter!
The protesters stood in place, looking around dazedly.
They didn't remember why they were here, didn't remember what was written on the placards they were holding, and didn't even remember the name Loren.
"I… how did I get here?" A middle-aged man looked confusedly at the placard in his hand, which was completely blank.
"Where is this? It seems like I… am lost?" A young girl rubbed her temples.
"Look quickly, that manor is so pretty." Someone pointed at the manor behind Loren and gasped in admiration.
Inside the media broadcast van, reporters looked at each other, not knowing what they were doing.
In their equipment, there was no record of this commotion at all, as if all of this had never happened.
The only thing that wasn't erased was the memory of the deaths of those dozens of innocent citizens.
But people's memories of this matter had also turned into merely a tragedy caused by an accidental explosion.
It had nothing to do with metahumans, nothing to do with Loren, and nothing to do with anyone.
A meticulously planned conspiracy, enough to change the World's pattern, was thus completely erased.
This was Loren's strength nowadays, a strength sufficient to easily rewrite reality.
The reason he was able to do this relied precisely on the power of Dark Magic plundered from Chthon.
Of course, if he borrowed the power of the Reality Stone, it could also be accomplished.
But the Reality Stone was external power after all, whereas the power of Dark Magic had completely fused with him, and this was his own power.
There was still a tremendous difference between the two; the difference lay in the fact that one relied on others, while the other relied on oneself.
Loren lowered his hand, turned around, and walked back to the manor.
The large gate slowly closed behind him.
Inside the manor, everyone was standing at the entrance of the main building, watching him walk back.
Mai Shiranui was the first to pounce forward, hugging him tightly: "Master, you've finally come back, we missed you so much."
"What did you miss about me?" Loren patted her head and said with a smile.
"Resolved? Did they all forget?" Tsunade asked.
"Yeah, they all forgot." Loren nodded, just as if he were talking about a trivial matter.
"What about HYDRA?"
"Gone."
Tsunade fell silent for a moment, then let out a long breath: "Master, you really are…"
She didn't continue speaking, but the corners of her mouth curved up, and her face was full of a look of adoration.
Tifa walked over and gently held Loren's hand: "Master, you've worked hard, let me come and relax your shoulders!"
While speaking, Tifa pulled Loren to the edge of the sofa, and then gave him a shove to push him down.
Then she herself circled to the back of the sofa, her two hands beginning to rhythmically knead and press on Loren's two shoulders.
After a short while, an expression of enjoyment couldn't help but appear on Loren's face.
Loren tilted his head back to look at Tifa behind him, saying comfortably: "Tifa, you really are Master's little darling, you're still the one who knows how to pamper people best."
Hearing Loren say this, Hancock, standing on the steps, crossed her arms with a trace of haughtiness at the corners of her mouth.
"Master, does what you said mean to say that we don't know how to pamper people?"
At this time, Tsunade also chimed in: "It looks like we have to perform well today, otherwise we're all going to be outshone by Little Sister Tifa."
Mei Terumi: "That's right! Let's all perform well together!"
Mai Shiranui: "I've already been dying of impatience!"
Mei Terumi: "Then Master's right foot belongs to me!"
Hancock: "Then the left foot is left to me."
Tsunade: "Then let me take the left side of the chest!"
Commander White: "In that case, I'll reluctantly take over the right side of Master's chest."
2B: "I only came a step late, and you've already monopolized everything. In that case, the mouth will be my responsibility."
Hinata: "Th-then what about me? What should I do?"
Hinata looked at everyone with an adorable and blank expression, feeling a bit at a loss.
Right at this moment, Ikaros walked up to her holding a large watermelon.
"Sister Hinata, why don't you feed the watermelon to Master together with me? The watermelon I grew is super-duper sweet!"
"Okay! Thanks, Ikaros!" Hinata gave a sweet smile and nodded very seriously.
As everyone spoke, they swarmed over and arrived in front of Loren.
In just a split second, he was surrounded by a group of people.
Ikaros silently walked to Loren's side and handed him a piece of watermelon.
It was the freshest batch grown in her greenhouse.
"Master, you've worked hard."
Loren took the watermelon and took a bite.
Sweet!!!
But before he could finish eating the watermelon, 2B snatched a bit out from his mouth.
"Mhm, it really is sweet. Ikaros, give the watermelon to me, let me feed it to Master."
As 2B spoke, she took a piece of watermelon from Ikaros's hand and put it into her own mouth to chew.
"Come, Master, open your mouth. I'll chew it up for you. Eat mine, this way it's sweeter!"
Loren: "…"
Meanwhile, the others also exerted their efforts.
In an instant, Loren couldn't help but gasp a breath of cold air.
Watching this scene, No. 18 leaned against the door with her arms crossed over her chest, then laughed and said: "You guys get busy first, I'll come wrap things up later!"
Loren: "!!!!"
Just as Loren was still enjoying his wonderful life inside his manor, the outside World was still not peaceful.
The news of HYDRA's destruction spread within a very small circle for a short period of time.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was even more shocked to find that the shadow organization which had infiltrated them for decades had completely evaporated overnight.
The HYDRA members they were secretly investigating, as well as high-ranking government officials in whom they had previously found no abnormalities, had all vanished without a trace.
There were no corpses, no bloodstains, and no traces in any physical sense.
They were simply no longer there, as if they had never existed.
The CIA, MI6, Mossad, and everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. were frantically investigating this incident, but no one could find any clues.
The only thing that could be ascertained was that all of this happened on the same night, at the very same moment.
It was as if an invisible giant hand had instantly uprooted HYDRA from the Earth.
Panic spread among those in the know.
What kind of power could accomplish such a thing?
What kind of entity possessed such resolute methods?
But on a public level, this matter caused almost no ripples.
The masses didn't know of HYDRA's existence, nor of the conspiracy that almost subverted the World.
Nor did they know of the young man who walked alone into the enemy's headquarters in the deep of night and erased everything with a wave of his hand.
However, although HYDRA had been completely destroyed by Loren, the civil war was still continuing because the Superhuman Registration Act was still around.
Chapter 354: The Cruel Truth
Although HYDRA has fallen, the seeds they planted have already taken root and sprouted.
The Registration Act was legally passed, and the politicians in Congress will not repeal a law just because of the fall of Hydra.
Moreover, the rift among the heroes is far deeper than anyone imagined.
The side in favor of registration, led by Iron Man, believes that superpowered individuals must be subject to regulation, otherwise similar tragedies will repeat themselves.
The side opposing registration, led by Captain America, believes that the Registration Act is an infringement on civil liberties and turns heroes into weapons of the government.
The two factions repeatedly clashed in the streets and alleys—capturing and anti-capturing, fighting and escaping.
New York citizens have grown accustomed to energy beams and explosions occasionally streaking across the sky, just as they are accustomed to rain and clear days.
Yet behind all this, the existence of one more person makes the situation even more complicated.
This person is none other than the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes.
Captain America's best friend, a member of the Howling Commandos during World War II, and a super assassin brainwashed and modified by HYDRA for seventy years.
Before the fall of HYDRA, they legalized the identity of Bucky Barnes through the Superhero Registration Act.
The reason was that, in view of the crimes committed by James Buchanan Barnes during his control by HYDRA, which were not of his own will, he was granted a pardon.
At the same time, given his superpowered status and combat experience, he was specially appointed as a special law enforcement consultant for the Superhero Registration Act, responsible for hunting down illegal superpowered individuals who refuse to register.
HYDRA's calculation was simple: let Bucky hunt down the heroes opposing registration, especially his old friend, Captain America.
This would not only intensify the infighting among heroes, but also detonate an even bigger bomb using Bucky's identity at a critical moment.
But before they had time to detonate that bomb, they were erased by Loren.
However, the Superhero Registration Act was not revoked.
It quietly lies in the federal government's archives, legal, effective, and possessing full legal validity.
And Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier whose hands are stained with blood.
At this moment, wearing the government-issued tracking bracelet and in the capacity of a special law enforcement consultant, he is hunting down those heroes who refuse to register.
Ironically, Bucky himself does not want to do this.
He remembers everything: every crime he committed when he was brainwashed, and the faces of those who died under his hands.
He hates HYDRA, hates himself for being transformed into a weapon, and hates the unwashable smell of blood on these hands.
But the law has taken effect, and the tracking bracelet has been put on.
If he refuses to comply, he will immediately be listed as an illegal superpowered individual and become a target of the hunt.
More importantly, Captain America has been looking for him.
Steve wants to take him away, wants to help him get rid of all this, and wants to go to a place without a registration act, without hunting, and without war to start anew.
But Bucky knows he cannot.
The sins he carries on his shoulders are too heavy.
Those dead people, those lives he personally ended, will not be pardoned just because of a law.
He does not deserve a peaceful life, does not deserve Steve's friendship, and does not deserve any form of redemption.
Therefore, he chose silence, chose obedience, chose to put on the tracking bracelet, and became a person he detests.
He thought that as long as he stayed away from Steve and didn't think about those past things, he could survive like this by dragging out his existence.
Until that day arrived...
Tony Stark hasn't slept for three days.
He sat in front of his workbench, his fingers typing rapidly on the virtual keyboard.
Because of the Registration Act, he took over a part of the data in the S.H.I.E.L.D. database.
He unlatched those encrypted data layer by layer; most of them were S.H.I.E.L.D.'s daily documents, mission reports, and personnel files, nothing special.
But just at this moment, he accidentally saw a video file.
It was a video archive marked December 16, 1991. December 16, 1991—Tony remembers this date.
That was the day his parents died in a car crash. He remembers every detail when he received the phone call.
He remembers standing in his MIT dorm room, holding the receiver in his hand, feeling as if the whole World was collapsing.
He remembers the rain at the funeral, remembers the eulogies, remembers standing alone in front of the gravestone, unable even to cry.
For so many years, he always thought it was an accident.
An ordinary, unfortunate car crash that took his parents' lives.
But what he saw at this moment was not the case at all.
"Executor: Winter Soldier, Target: Howard Stark, Status: Completed."
Tony's fingers hovered above the keyboard, motionless.
He stared at that line of words for a long time.
He thought he would be angry, would break down, would smash everything in front of him.
But he did nothing of the sort.
He only felt cold, a bone-deep cold seeping out from the cracks of his bones.
He clicked open the file.
The video was not long, merely recording a man with a metal arm riding a motorcycle behind a black sedan.
Then an explosion rang out, the sedan lost control and crashed into a tree on the roadside.
In the next scene, the man with the metal arm walked up to the sedan, pulled open the car door, and reached out to choke his father's neck...
Tony turned off the screen.
He sat in the darkness, motionless.
He thought of Bucky Barnes.
He thought of the name Steve always had on his lips, that best friend, that innocent person controlled by HYDRA.
He thought of what Steve said: "Tony, he is my friend, he was brainwashed, that wasn't his intention, please understand!"
Understand!!!
Sorry, I cannot understand!
Tony Stark, in the darkness, smiled silently.
That laughter was very soft, very soft, yet more furious than any roar.
The next day, Tony found Bucky.
He didn't wear the Iron Man Armor, just wearing a black jacket and driving an ordinary car, coming to Bucky's temporary residence in Brooklyn.
It was a very small apartment, with windows facing a noisy street and graffiti left by the previous tenant on the walls.
When Bucky opened the door and saw Tony standing at the entrance, he was stunned for a moment.
"Mr. Stark, why are you here!" His voice was low, carrying a hint of vigilance.
Tony didn't speak; he just looked at Bucky, looking at that face tortured by HYDRA for seventy years, looking at that metal arm glowing with a dark red light.
Then, he raised his hand and handed a tablet computer in front of Bucky.
On the screen was that mission report.
Bucky's face turned pale the moment he saw those words.
He remembers, of course he remembers.
He remembers the black sedan, remembers the man with an exquisite mustache.
He remembers his metal arm choking that man's neck, once, twice, until that body stopped struggling.
He remembers everything.
"Tony..." Bucky's voice was hoarse, his hands trembling, "I..."
"Do not call my name, I just want to know one thing, does Steve know?" Tony's voice was very calm, so calm it didn't sound like him.
Chapter 355: You Don't Deserve to Die by My Hands
Bucky fell silent.
That silence was the answer.
Tony nodded and turned to leave.
He did not look back, nor did he say another word.
Steve only learned about this two hours later.
When he rushed to Bucky's apartment, the door was open.
Bucky was sitting in the chair by the window, still holding the tablet in his hand, the expression on his face looking as though all vitality had been drained from it.
"Bucky, did Tony come by?" Steve walked over and squatted down in front of him.
Bucky did not answer; he simply handed the tablet to Steve.
Steve took it and saw the content on the screen.
His expression froze the moment he saw the video.
He had learned the truth from Nick Fury long ago.
He knew that Bucky had killed Tony's parents, that Howard and Mary had died because of a HYDRAconspiracy, and that his good friend had the blood of another good friend's parents on his hands.
But he had not told Tony.
He had thought about telling him, many times.
But he didn't know how to bring it up, didn't know how to say to Tony, "Your parents didn't die in an accident; my best friend killed them."
He was afraid—afraid that Tony would break down and hunt down Bucky at all costs.
He had chosen silence, chosen to protect Bucky, and chosen to bury the truth, thinking that as long as he didn't say anything, everything wouldn't get worse.
He had been wrong.
"Bucky, I'll go find him and explain things to him." Steve's voice was very soft.
"Explain what?" Bucky raised his head. "Explain that you knew the truth yet chose to keep it from him? Explain that to protect me, you let him live in lies for all these years?"
Steve couldn't say a word.
"Steve." Bucky's voice was frighteningly calm. "You shouldn't have kept it from him; you should have told him from the very beginning."
"You were controlled by Hydra at that time; that wasn't your intention."
"No matter what, I killed his parents, Steve. I choked his father to death."
Even though my consciousness was suppressed, my hands were real, and their deaths were real.
Steve, stay out of what happens next. You should let him come to me for revenge; that's what he deserves."
"No, I won't let anyone hurt you." Steve's voice was firm, but his eye sockets were already red.
Bucky looked at him for a long time, then gave a soft, bitter, extremely bitter smile.
"You're still the same, always protecting others while never caring about yourself."
He didn't continue.
Because he knew that no matter what he said, it couldn't change what had already happened.
After returning to Stark Tower, Tony locked himself in the laboratory and didn't come out for a whole day.
Pepper Potts stood outside the door and knocked three times, but no one responded.
Jarvis told her that the boss's physiological indicators were abnormal, his heart rate was too fast, and his adrenaline levels continued to rise, suggesting medical intervention.
But Pepper didn't force the door open; she knew Tony and knew that he needed time.
He needed to be alone, needed to lock himself away among those cold machines until he could figure out what to do.
By evening, the laboratory door finally opened.
Tony walked out with no expression on his face, holding that tablet in his hand.
"Pepper, I'm going to find Bucky Barnes."
His eyes were bloodshot, obviously having not slept for a long time.
Hearing this, Pepper didn't object, but nodded instead.
She knew the contents of that document, knew what Tonyhad discovered, and knew what his calmness at this moment meant.
"What are you going to do?" she asked softly.
Tony did not answer. He simply walked into the armor vault, stood in front of the newest mark armor, and fell silent for a long time.
Then, he put on the armor and flew toward Brooklyn.
Steve and Bucky were still in that small apartment; they hadn't left because they both knew Tony would come back.
Sure enough, the sound of shattering glass rang out in the night sky, and the red and gold armor descended from the sky, landing on the street opposite the apartment.
The mask of the armor opened, revealing Tony's pale, bloodless face.
"Steve, step aside." His voice came from the armor's loudspeaker, cold and emotionless.
Steve stood in front of Bucky, his shield already grasped in his hand.
On his face was an expression Tony had never seen before.
It was not anger, not firmness, but a deep agony that almost completely engulfed him.
"Tony, listen to me..."
"I said, step aside." Tony's voice raised a notch, and the repulsors in the palms of the armor had already begun to charge, emitting a humming low drone.
"I won't step aside." Steve's voice was calm, but the hand holding the shield was trembling slightly.
"Tony, I know you're angry, I know you have the right to be angry, but killing him won't bring your parents back to life."
"You knew all along, you knew he killed my parents, you've always known.
Yet you chose to protect him instead of telling me the truth.
By what right? Steve, by what right do you decide for me what I should know and what I shouldn't?"
Steve fell silent for a moment, then spoke: "Because I was afraid of this exact situation happening."
"So you lied to me."
"I didn't lie to you; I just didn't know how to tell you."
"So you chose to conceal it? What about your so-called justice?" Tony's voice suddenly rose, the light of the repulsors as blinding as a knife in the night.
"Enough!"
Bucky's voice suddenly rang out, deep and hoarse, yet like a knife cutting off Tony's words.
He stepped out from behind Steve, stood between the two of them, and faced Tony.
His hands hung by his sides, that metal arm reflecting a cold light in the moonlight.
"Stark, I killed them. I choked your father to death. Even though that wasn't my intention, I remember every single detail.
I remember your father's hands gradually losing strength in mine, I remember your mother's eyes still looking at me before she fell, I remember everything."
Tony's repulsors lit up to the extreme, the humming turning into a piercing screech.
"If you want revenge, do it. I won't resist. Kill me!" Buckymade no defense, no dodge, simply standing there.
"Bucky!" Steve took a step forward.
"Don't come over." Bucky didn't even look back. "Steve, this time, let me handle it myself."
He looked straight into Tony's eyes—those blue eyes that had once been bright on the World War II battlefield now held only exhaustion and calmness.
"Do it."
Tony stared at him, stared at the man who had killed his parents, stared at those hands stained with his parents' blood.
The light of the repulsors flickered in the night sky. As long as he pulled the trigger, in just a fraction of a second, this person would become a corpse.
His fingers trembled on the trigger.
One second, two seconds, three seconds.
But the light of the repulsors ultimately slowly went out.
Tony lowered his hand, the mask closing to cover his face.
No one could see his expression, but everyone could hear the trembling and shattering in his voice.
"You don't deserve to die by my hands. Steve, starting today, you and I are no longer friends, but enemies!" he said, turning around and flying into the night sky.
The red and gold light disappeared into the clouds, leaving behind a mess on the streets of Brooklyn and a ground full of broken glass.
Chapter 356: You Are Not Tony, Who the Hell Are You?
After returning to Stark Tower, Tony Stark took off his mark armor.
He didn't ask Jarvis to check for damage as he usually did, didn't record flight data, and didn't even put the mark armor back into the armory.
He simply walked out of the laboratory, entered the bedroom, and lay down on the bed.
The ceiling was white; he stared at that white expanse, motionless.
Pepper stood at the doorway for a moment, then gently closed the door.
At the same time, on a spaceship in outer space, a green-skinned, pointed-eared alien stood before a holographic projection.
This alien was none other than a Skrull.
The projection showed Tony Stark's face—images from when he attended the Stark Expo: smiling, confident, and arrogant.
"Our secret invasion operation is time to begin!" The Skrull Commander spoke up.
"Officer, what do we need to do?" another Skrull asked.
The Commander brought up another photo, which clearly showed Bucky Barnes.
"Have someone impersonate Tony, then go kill him, and afterwards upload the video of Iron Man murdering Buckyto the internet.
Then, Captain America and Iron Man, the two cores of the Avengers, will split forever."
"Officer, why split them?" the young Skrull asked, puzzled.
The Commander looked at him, his green face expressionless.
"Because the Avengers are Earth's most powerful defense force. If we want to conquer this Planet, we must first make them fight among themselves.
And the rift between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers is the best weapon we can find."
Brooklyn, New York, an Underground Room.
A Skrull stood in front of a mirror, his skin shifting.
The green faded, bones reorganized, and muscles rearranged.
A few seconds later, standing in the mirror was Tony Stark.
He moved his fingers, twisted his neck, and then began to speak.
The voice, the tone, the movements, and even the memories were identical.
"Jarvis?" he tested out.
There was no response; of course there wasn't, because he didn't have Jarvis.
He only needed to look like Tony Stark and sound like Tony Stark.
He turned around and looked at the mark armor behind him.
That was the mark armor they had spent three months crafting using materials from Earth.
From the outside, it was indistinguishable from any suit in the Mark series.
Red and gold, streamlined, with that iconic arc reactor on the chest.
Even the firepower was no different from a real mark armor as the Skrull put on the mark armor.
The faceplate closed, the red eyes lit up, and he looked at himself in the mirror and nodded.
"It's time to act!" he muttered to himself.
On the other side, Bucky was sitting in a chair by his room's window, watching the streets of Brooklyn.
Sometimes he would go out to buy milk at the corner grocery store or take a walk in the park.
His left arm had been replaced with a new Vibranium arm in Wakanda, which was lighter and quieter than the previous one.
At two in the afternoon, Bucky went out as usual to that café on the corner.
He liked the black coffee there—no sugar, no milk, purely bitter, just like his own life.
The owner knew him; every time he saw him enter, he would start making the coffee without needing him to speak.
"How's it going today, Bucky?" The owner handed over the coffee.
"Not bad," Bucky said.
He paid and walked out of the café with the coffee.
The sunlight was lovely; in April in Brooklyn, the trees along the streets were beginning to sprout buds.
Bucky stood by the roadside, raising his head to look at the sky.
The clouds were white, the sky was blue, and he thought of Steve.
He remembered them running on the streets of Brooklynwhen they were kids, with Steve always running behind.
Squatting on the ground to pant when his asthma flared up, then lifting his head to look at him with those stubborn blue eyes.
"Bucky, wait for me."
He would always stop, turn around, walk back, and extend his hand to Steve.
"Hurry up, Rogers, don't dawdle."
Bucky withdrew his gaze, lowered his head, and looked at the coffee in his hand.
Those days had passed a very, very long time ago, long enough to span a century.
And in fact, they truly had spanned a century; both of them had been frozen in ice for over 70 years.
Taking a sip of the bitter black coffee, he turned around, preparing to head back to his apartment.
Right at that moment, a gold-and-red figure descended from the sky and landed right in front of him.
Although he hadn't seen the person's face yet, just by looking at this figure, he knew who it was—Iron Man.
The red and gold mark armor stood before him, and immediately the faceplate opened, revealing that familiar face.
The newcomer was none other than Tony Stark.
Bucky looked at the Tony in front of him with a complex expression, then spoke with a heart full of guilt.
"Stark, you came back—is it because you changed your mind, or do you want to kill me? If so, you can make your move right now!"
Tony didn't speak, just looked at him.
That gaze was different from when he saw him a few days ago.
Tony's eyes a few days ago had been filled with anger, pain, and the madness of someone torn apart.
Yet Tony's eyes right now held nothing at all—they were empty!
Bucky couldn't help frowning slightly; he couldn't put his finger on what was wrong, but it just felt wrong.
"Rest assured, I'm going to kill you right now!" Tony spoke.
His voice was right, his tone was right, and even the arrogance unique to Tony Stark was the same.
Yet Bucky vaguely sensed that the feeling of the Tony in front of him was completely different from the Tony he had seen a few days prior; his sixth sense had always been very keen.
At that very moment, a micro-drone flew out from Tony's mark armor and hovered mid-air.
Simultaneously, Tony raised his repulsor and aimed it right at Bucky's face.
This scene was even more inexplicable. If Tony came to exact revenge, he would just exact revenge; why suddenly activate a drone for no reason?
The crucial point was that Tony Stark had previously said he wasn't worthy of dying by his hands. Based on his understanding of Tony, he wouldn't go back on his word.
Combining everything before him, this was simply too abnormal, forcing him to start doubting whether the person in front of him was even Tony.
With that thought, his Vibranium arm immediately grabbed Iron Man's arm and shoved it hard to the side.
Right at that moment, an energy blast shot out, shattering the glass of the café behind him.
"Tony wouldn't rashly make a move in a crowded area; that would hurt civilians. You're not Tony, who the hell are you?"
Hearing Bucky's words, a trace of surprise flashed across Tony's eyes.
Then he smiled—that smile was identical to Tony Stark's.
Yet in Bucky's eyes, that smile felt rather eerie.
"How did you figure it out?"
Tony didn't bother pretending anymore at that point, his voice still being Tony's voice.
But the tone had changed, becoming flatter, colder, lacking that familiar sharp edge.
Bucky didn't answer; instead, he quickly widened the distance between them.
"That doesn't matter. What matters is, who the hell are you?" Bucky looked coldly at Tony and said.
"Didn't I already tell you! I'm the person who came to kill you."
Chapter 357 Fake Iron Man vs. Winter Soldier!
The lingering warmth of the palm cannon still lingered in the air, and the shattered glass refracted fine points of light in the sunlight.
Bucky did not move; he stood by the roadside, his left hand slightly open, and the Vibranium arm casting a dull sheen in the sunlight.
The guests in the café screamed and fled in all directions, and the owner hid behind the bar, revealing only a pair of terrified eyes.
"Everyone, leave this street." Bucky's voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable sense of oppression.
The street emptied within thirty seconds.
On an April afternoon in Brooklyn, the sunlight was just right, the breeze was not dry, and there were only two people.
No, it was one person and a monster disguised as a person, standing in the empty middle of the street.
The Skrulls tilted its head, a motion that strongly resembled Tony Stark's iconic posture.
But something was wrong, just like someone copying a famous painting, capturing the form but missing the spirit.
"How did you find out? My disguise should have been flawless.
Could it really be just because I started a fight with you in a downtown area?"
The Skrulls asked, its tone carrying sincere curiosity.
Bucky did not answer.
His eyes were scanning every detail of the Tony Stark in front of him.
There were faint energy fluctuations at the seams of the mark armor, which were a bit different from a real mark armor.
The glow of the arc reactor on its chest was a bit dimmer than Tony's, a difference that couldn't be noticed at all without careful inspection.
And the eyes were empty, soulless, lacking the vitality of Tony Stark that remained scorching even when pushed to the absolute limit of anger.
"Your performance is very good, but you don't understand him." Bucky finally spoke, his voice very calm.
"Not understand who? Tony Stark?" The Skrulls laughed.
"I have studied him for three months; every public speech of his, every subtle expression, I know by heart."
"Then you should know, if Tony Stark really wanted to kill me...
He wouldn't say 'I'll kill you right now', he would just do it directly.
And he wouldn't turn on a drone to record, because he doesn't care what the world thinks of him."
Bucky slowly moved his steps, putting his back to the sunlight.
The Skrulls's smile stiffened for a fraction of a second.
Bucky continued: "More importantly, Tony Stark is a jerk.
But he's not a jerk who would fire shots in a downtown area, not even at me, he wouldn't."
Silence.
Then the Skrulls began to applaud, the collision of the metal gloves making a dull sound.
"Brilliant, truly brilliant." Its voice held a hint of respect.
"Bucky Barnes, people call you the Winter Soldier.
Saying you are just a brainwashed assassin, but your observation skills are far sharper than the intelligence reports show."
It put away its smile, the mask closed again, and its red eyes lit up.
"Pity, this changes nothing."
The energy core of the mark armor began to charge, and the humming sound went from faint to sharp in less than two seconds.
Bucky recognized this sound; he had fought side by side with Tony, and he knew the precursor signs before the palm cannon fired.
He rolled to the left.
An energy beam grazed past his shoulder and hit the fire hydrant behind him.
A pillar of water soared into the sky, exploding into a rainbow in the sunlight.
Bucky bounced off the ground using gravity acceleration, his left hand grabbing a parked motorcycle by the roadside.
The strength of the Vibranium arm allowed him to easily throw the motorcycle weighing over 500 catties towards the Skrulls.
The Skrulls did not dodge.
The shoulder armor of the mark armor opened, and two micro-missiles shot out, colliding with the car in mid-air.
The explosion's Impact shattered all the surrounding glass, and the fragments fell like raindrops.
Bucky had already rushed through that rain of fragments, his Vibranium arm clenching into a fist, smashing straight towards the Skrulls's chest.
His speed was fast, fast enough to surpass the limits of human beings.
Seventy years of an assassin's career, the most perfect weapon of HYDRA.
Even without that cold brainwashed state, his body still remembered all the killing techniques.
The fist smashed into the chest armor, Vibranium and steel colliding to make a muffled, loud sound.
The Skrulls retreated half a step.
Only half a step.
Bucky's pupils contracted.
His Vibranium arm was enough to punch through concrete walls; with this punch he used all his strength, aiming to paralyze the reactor of the mark armor in one strike.
But there wasn't even a dent on the chest armor, and the reactor was still steadily glowing with light.
"You are surprised." The Skrulls's voice came from inside the helmet, carrying a smile.
"You thought my mark armor was a knockoff, inferior to the real Mark series?
We spent three months, using materials from Earth, building it bit by bit according to Tony Stark's blueprint.
Its performance is completely identical to Mark XLVI, or even stronger."
Its right hand grabbed Bucky's right arm, which he hadn't had time to retract.
The fingers of the mark armor tightened, and the hydraulic system made a low hiss.
Vibranium wouldn't shatter, but Bucky's arm was not Vibranium.
His bones made a dangerous creaking sound under the pressure.
Pain surged up his spine like an electric current, but his expression did not change.
"Pain is nothing to you, right?" the Skrulls said.
"I know your file, Bucky Barnes.
Brainwashed for seventy years, frozen and thawed countless times.
The severed stump of your left arm has been crudely attached with a new metal limb every time; you are one of the toughest humans I have ever seen."
"You talk too much!" Bucky said through clenched teeth.
He abruptly raised his right knee, thrusting it towards the Skrulls's abdomen.
The mark armor had a buffer layer, and this strike caused almost no damage, but it loosened the Skrulls's grip for a fraction of a second.
Bucky seized the opportunity to pull out his arm, while his right hand pulled a dagger from his waist.
Not an ordinary dagger, but a Vibranium dagger produced by Wakanda, given to him by Black Panther's sister.
The dagger stabbed towards the seam at the neck of the mark armor.
That was the weakest link of all exoskeleton armors, and Tony's own mark armor was no exception.
The Vibranium blade precisely cut into the gap, piercing the internal wiring.
Sparks splashed, the Skrulls's head jerked back, and the red eyes on the mask flickered a few times.
"Interesting," the Skrulls said.
Its back thrusters opened, flames spewed out, and the entire person soared straight into the sky.
Bucky didn't have time to let go, being carried along to fly into the sky.
The streets of Brooklyn shrank beneath his feet, buildings turned into matchbox-sized squares, and the wind scraped across Bucky's face like a knife.
The Skrulls flipped over in mid-air, grabbed Bucky's right arm with both hands, and forcefully threw him out.
Bucky drew an arc in the air, crashing into the side of a building.
Bricks and stones shattered, his whole person embedded into the wall, all the air squeezed out of his lungs.
He coughed, a bloody taste welling up in his throat.
The Skrulls hovered in front of him, the palm cannon charging, and two blue energy beams shot out fiercely.
Bucky broke free from the wall at the last moment, falling downward.
The energy beam hit his previous position, blowing open a hole two meters in diameter.
He adjusted his posture during the fall, his Vibranium arm grabbing windowsills, balconies, and fire escapes.
Slowing down layer by layer, he finally landed in an alley.
Chapter 358: That Man Is Dead!
The alley was very narrow, littered with trash cans and cardboard boxes on both sides, and the air was filled with a stench of rot.
Bucky leaned against the wall, panting heavily.
His right shoulder was dislocated, and judging from the posture when he was thrown out just now, he might have a few broken ribs as well.
He bit down on the back of the dagger, grabbed his right arm with his left hand, and with a sudden push and shove, popped the dislocated joint back into place.
The bone snapped back into place with a click, the pain causing his vision to darken briefly, but he didn't make a sound.
The roar of armor thrusters came from overhead, and the Skrulls landed at the entrance of the alley, blocking the only exit.
Sunlight shone from behind him, stretching his shadow very, very long, covering the entire alley.
"You can't escape." The Skrulls said, "How about I grant you a quick death."
Bucky straightened his body, pulled out the dagger with his right hand, opened his left hand, and the Vibranium arm emitted a dim light in the shadows.
"You talk too much."
With that, he took the initiative to rush forward.
This was not a rational decision, but he had never been a rational person.
His rationality had been chopped to pieces by HYDRAseventy years ago, leaving behind only a nearly instinctual will to fight.
Even if he couldn't win, even if he would die, he had to bite a piece of flesh off the opponent.
The Skrulls stood there without moving, waiting for him to rush over.
Bucky suddenly changed direction three meters away from him, stepped on the wall to rush up the side, and used the narrow space of the alley to change his attack angle.
He dropped from directly above the Skrulls, the dagger stabbing towards the top of the armor's helmet, usually the area with the densest sensors.
The Skrulls raised his left arm to block, and the Vibraniumdagger carved a spark on the armor without piercing through.
After landing, Bucky immediately turned around, grabbed the Skrulls's ankle with his left hand, and pulled hard, trying to make him lose balance.
But the armor's gyro-stabilization system activated immediately, the Skrulls didn't budge at all, and with a backhand slap, he struck Bucky's back.
That slap felt like being hit by a truck.
Bucky flew out entirely, knocked over three trash cans, and finally smashed into the brick wall at the end of the alley.
The wall collapsed, and he fell into the broken bricks and dust, his mouth full of blood.
He struggled to stand up, but his left leg had no strength.
Looking down, a piece of metal fragment was stuck in his thigh.
It wasn't hit by the Skrulls, but armor fragments that splashed when hitting the wall just now.
A joint of the Vibranium arm also had a problem, the fingers could only be half-clenched and could not be fully opened.
The Skrulls walked over, the footsteps exceptionally clear in the quiet alley.
He stood in front of Bucky, lowered his head, his red eyes looking down at this dying man.
"To us, you are actually an unimportant person, but your death is very important."
"Because Steve Rogers will believe that Tony killed you, and by then the Avengers will completely split apart."
Bucky raised his head, the blood from the corner of his mouth dripping onto his ragged shirt.
"Steve won't fall for it, he will find out, he will find out the truth, he never gives up."
Bucky's voice was already very soft, but every word was bitten out very clearly.
The Skrulls fell silent for a moment.
"But by then you'll already be dead, what difference does it make to you?"
Bucky didn't speak.
He watched the Skrulls raise his right hand, the palm cannon aimed at his forehead.
Blue energy gathered in the palm, the light getting brighter and brighter, illuminating every scar and every strand of messy hair on his face.
He closed his eyes.
The image that finally appeared in his mind was not the battlefield, not HYDRA's brainwashing chair, not the howling wind when falling from the train.
It was Brooklyn, Brooklyn from many years ago, that thin blonde boy who squatted on the ground panting when his asthma acted up.
"Bucky, wait for me."
He would always stop, turn around, walk back, and extend his hand to Steve.
"Hurry up, Rogers, don't dawdle."
This time, he couldn't wait for him anymore.
The humming sound of the energy beam firing echoed in the alley.
In the afternoon of Brooklyn, the sunlight was very good, the wind was very light, and the trees on both sides of the street were sprouting.
In the alley, the Skrulls withdrew his hand.
The palm of the armor was still smoking, and the air was filled with the smell of ozone, a unique odor after an energy weapon is fired.
He lowered his head to look at the corpse on the ground — Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers's best friend.
His eyes were open, the blue eyes still blue under the sunlight, very clean, very quiet.
The Skrulls squatted down and closed his eyes with his hand.
"You are a respectable opponent, but unfortunately your death is very important to us." The Skrulls said softly.
He stood up, the face mask opened, Tony Stark's face exposed to the sunlight again.
He took out a communicator and pressed the call button.
"Officer, target eliminated."
The other end of the communicator fell silent for two seconds, and then the Commander's voice sounded, calm as if reading a report: "Did the drone capture it?"
"Captured, full recording."
"Very good, edit the video well, and upload it to all mainstream platforms within an hour."
"The title must be provocative enough, just say 'Iron Manexecutes Captain America's close friend in the street'."
The Skrulls looked at the drone suspended in mid-air, its camera's red light still flashing, like an eye that would never rest in peace.
"Understood." He said.
He took a last look at the corpse on the ground, then activated the flight system of the armor and soared into the sky.
The gold-red figure disappeared into the horizon, leaving only a white trail slowly dispersing in the blue sky.
Brooklyn returned to peace.
The wind was still blowing, the trees were still sprouting, and the sunlight was still so good.
At the coffee shop on the corner of the street, the owner stood up from behind the bar, carefully walked to the door, and looked outside.
The street was deserted.
He couldn't see that alley, so he didn't know what happened there.
He only knew that the man who always came to drink black coffee didn't come back just now.
The news spread in the evening.
Steve Rogers did not have the habit of looking at his phone, his phone was always kept in the drawer, looking at it only twice a day.
Once in the morning, once in the evening.
He didn't like that small glowing screen, didn't like those overwhelming torrents of information.
He was a man belonging to the old era, accustomed to looking at the World with his eyes rather than a screen.
But that evening, Sam Wilson directly burst into his apartment in Brooklyn.
No knocking, no doorbell, the door was slammed open.
"Steve." Sam's voice was wrong, a wrongness that made Steve stand up from the chair the moment he heard his name.
"What's wrong?"
Sam's face was pale, his lips were trembling, the phone screen in his hand was bright, and there was a video on it.
The paused image was blurry, but Steve recognized that flash of red and gold.
"Steve, listen to me, this video might be fake, current technology..."
Steve took the phone from his hand.
He clicked the play button.
Chapter 359: Why did you go back on your word?
The video was filmed by a drone from top to bottom; the footage was a bit shaky, but clear enough.
On a street in Brooklyn, the sunlight was great, and the April trees were sprouting buds.
A person wearing red and gold armor descended from the sky and landed in front of another person.
That person turned around, holding a cup of coffee in hand, and it was Bucky.
Steve's breathing skipped a beat.
He saw Bucky raise his head, saw his lips moving, saw his expression change from calm to alert, and saw him push away "Tony"'s arm.
Then an energy blast was fired, shattering the cafe's glass.
What Bucky was saying—Steve couldn't hear the sound; he turned the phone's volume up to maximum, but amidst the noisy wind, Bucky's voice was intermittent.
Tony Stark in the footage smiled—a smile Steve was far too familiar with. It was the smile Tony wore when facing difficult reporters at press conferences: arrogant, sharp, and flawless.
But Bucky seemed to have said something, freezing that smile for a fraction of a second before the mask closed, and the battle began.
The subsequent footage made Steve feel chilled to the bone.
He saw Bucky hurl a motorcycle, saw micro-missiles shatter it, and saw Bucky rush forward to smash his fist against the armor's chest.
He saw Tony grab Bucky's wrist, and saw Bucky draw a Vibranium dagger to stab at the gap in the armor's neck.
He saw the two people shoot up into the sky and disappear out of frame.
Then the camera angle switched; the drone seemed to have adjusted its position, locking onto the scene once more.
An alley in Brooklyn.
Tony stood at the mouth of the alley, while Bucky leaned against the wall, covered in blood.
His left leg was trembling, his Vibranium arm hung by his side, and his fingers were half-clenched, seemingly unable to fully open.
His face was covered in blood and dust, but those blue eyes were still bright.
They were still looking at the person before him, with no plea for mercy, no fear, only a look Steve was far too familiar with.
It was the expression they had when fighting in Brooklynas children.
They couldn't win, but they would never admit defeat.
In the footage, Tony raised his right hand.
The repulsor was aimed at Bucky's forehead.
The blue light lit up, growing brighter and brighter.
It illuminated the entire alley, illuminated Bucky's face, and illuminated the drop of blood at the corner of his mouth that had yet to fall.
Then, the incandescent light filled the entire screen, and nothing could be seen anymore.
When the light dissipated, Bucky had already fallen to the ground, his blue eyes wide open, staring at the sky.
Tony squatted down and closed his eyes with his hand.
Then he stood up, the mask opening to reveal the face Steve once called a friend.
The video ended.
Only a still thumbnail remained on the phone screen: Tony Stark's face, expressionless under the Brooklyn sunlight.
Steve stood there, holding the phone, motionless.
Sam didn't dare to speak.
The room was quiet for a long time, so long that Sambegan to feel this silence would last forever.
Then Steve moved, returning the phone to Sam with a light and slow movement, as if afraid of breaking something.
"Where is he?" Steve asked.
His voice was flat, without anger, without sorrow, without anything at all.
That voice sounded like it came from a very, very far place, like someone speaking deep underwater.
"Steve!"
"Where is he?" The voice was a bit louder, but still flat—a flatness more terrifying than a roar.
Sam clenched his teeth. "Stark Tower. Natasha said he's in the laboratory, he..."
He didn't finish.
Steve had already turned and walked towards the door.
His pace was fast, but not running—it was a speed more terrifying than running.
It was a certainty of purpose, the movement of a hunter after locking onto its prey, every step carrying an unalterable determination.
"Steve, this could be a conspiracy. You know Tony's character; he wouldn't easily make a move in a busy area."
Steve paused at the door for a split second, but then, as if he hadn't heard, continued sprinting toward Stark Tower.
From Brooklyn to Manhattan, Steve didn't take a car or call any transportation.
He ran across the Brooklyn Bridge, running at a speed beyond human limits, with the night wind howling in his ears and the Hudson River flowing beneath his feet.
The city lights swept past him, dragging into blurred streaks of light.
He thought of Bucky, thinking of the first time he saw Bucky when he was seven years old.
Bucky was half a head taller than him, standing in front of him, reaching out a hand and saying, "My name is Bucky, Bucky Barnes."
He thought of them fighting on the streets of Brooklyn, with Bucky always rushing to the front, beating the punks two years older than him until their teeth scattered, then turning around with bruises on his face and smiling as he reached out his hand to him.
He thought of the day he fell from the train: the snow was heavy, the wind was cold, and Bucky's fingers slipped from between his fingers. He had stretched out his arms to grab him, but only caught empty air.
He thought of Bucky's blue eyes, the blue eyes that always carried a smile. Even after seventy years of torture, the light in those eyes had not completely extinguished.
Until today.
Until that blue light filled the screen, and then everything returned to darkness.
The lights of Stark Tower shone in the night, like a lonely lighthouse.
Steve didn't go in through the front door; he didn't have the patience to wait for the elevator.
He climbed directly up the exterior wall, his round shield vibrating behind him, emitting a low hum.
He smashed through the laboratory glass.
Shards of glass fell like rain, flashing with a cold light under the lights.
Steve landed on the experimental table, his feet crushing a row of charging micro-reactors, sending sparks flying everywhere.
Tony Stark stood at the other end of the laboratory.
He was wearing casual clothes, his gray T-shirt stained with engine oil, holding a wrench in his hand, with a set of armor being disassembled in front of him.
Hearing the sound of shattering glass, he turned around, and the moment he saw Steve, his expression changed.
First bewilderment, then vigilance, and finally, a complex and indescribable expression.
Within it was impatience, fatigue, and something Stevecouldn't understand.
"What are you doing here at my place? You are not welcome here. You smashed my glass—that glass is bulletproof, do you know how much it costs?" Tony's voice was very flat.
Steve jumped down from the experimental table without any cushioning upon landing, the sound of his knees colliding with the floor exceptionally harsh in the empty laboratory.
"Why did you go back on your word? You said Bucky didn't deserve to die at your hands, but why did you go looking for him again? And in the end, you even killed him!" Stevespoke angrily.
Hearing his words, Tony frowned instead.
"What nonsense are you dreaming about? When did I ever go look for that damn best friend of yours? Get the hell out of here!"
Chapter 360: The Real Civil War Has Begun!
"Stop pretending."
Steve's voice finally changed; it was like magma surging from a fissure after being suppressed to the limit, hot and searing enough to burn everything to ashes.
"Your whereabouts were all filmed, you went to find him, you went back on your word, you went to Brooklyn..."
"What are you talking about?"
Tony put down the wrench, and his expression became serious.
That flippant disguise faded away, revealing the confusion and alertness underneath.
"I didn't go to find him, I haven't seen him since last time, what on earth are you talking about?"
Steve took out his phone from his pocket, opened the video, and aimed the screen at Tony.
"This video spread to every corner of the World within ten minutes, you were wearing mark armor, in an alley in Brooklyn, and killed Bucky."
He paused for a moment, his voice squeezed out from between his teeth.
Tony stared at the image on the screen, his complexion changing three times within a few seconds.
From confusion to shock, and then from shock to incredulity.
"Although your buddy's death is something I'm happy to see happen, this wasn't me."
"Alright, you can get the hell out of my house, or else I'm going to be rude to you."
Tony said expressionlessly as he looked at Steve in front of him.
"Rude to me, so you plan to kill me too, just like you killed Bucky?"
Steve said coldly as he looked at Tony in front of him.
Hearing this, Tony Stark's complexion became even uglier.
He revealed his usual unyielding and arrogant expression, looking at Captain America in front of him, and said: "You think I don't dare?!"
"Then let's do it."
Steve raised his shield and rushed towards Tony.
Tony couldn't help being startled, and with a side-step narrowly avoided Captain America's attack.
At the same time, his Iron Man Armor started up quickly, equipping itself onto his body in just the blink of an eye.
Without any nonsense, the two directly started fighting.
The energy beam fired by the palm repulsor was bounced away by the shield, hitting the ceiling and blasting out a hole half a meter in diameter.
Debris and dust fell down, and the two of them passed through that patch of dust simultaneously, crashing into each other.
The sound of the shield colliding with the metal glove sounded like a bell, echoing in the laboratory.
Steve's strength was greater than Tony's, which was an indisputable fact.
The Super Soldier Serum endowed him with strength and speed beyond human limits, while Tony's armor was a product of technology, the crystallization of cold machinery and code.
For the first strike, Steve smashed his shield towards Tony's chest, Tony blocked with his glove, and his entire body was repelled three steps, crashing onto an experimental workbench.
Tools and parts on the table top clattered all over the floor.
For the second strike, Tony didn't wait for Steve to approach; he activated the pulse device on his glove, and a blue Impact diffused outward with him as the center.
Steve was hit by the Impact, his body sliding backward for several meters, leaving two black marks on the ground with the soles of his shoes.
For the third strike, Steve threw the shield out.
The shield rotated and flew towards Tony, Tonysidestepped to avoid it, but the shield hit the wall behind him and bounced back, striking his shoulder from behind.
Tony groaned softly; even with the protection of the armor glove, the Impact force of the shield was still too great.
Steve rushed up and punched Tony in the face.
That punch didn't hold back, the corner of Tony's mouth split open, and blood splattered out.
His entire body leaned backward and fell, crashing into the ground with a muffled sound.
Steve straddled him and raised his fist.
Tony lay on the ground, the blood from the corner of his mouth flowing down his chin, dripping onto his gray T-shirt.
His eyes looked at Steve, and there were many things in those brown eyes.
Pain, anger, unwillingness, and something Steve dared not look directly at.
Disappointment.
"Beat me to death, just like how he killed my father, Steve Rogers, Captain America, avenge your assassin friend, what a great story." Tony said, his voice hoarse.
Steve's fist stopped mid-air.
His hand was shaking, his entire arm was shaking.
Not because he was tired, but because he knew what throwing this punch would mean.
It meant that the very last shred of things between him and Tony would shatter, like those glass pieces, shattering so completely they could never be pieced back together.
But he still wanted to punch down.
His mind was full of Bucky's face, Bucky's eyes, Buckyfalling to the ground, and a person wearing Tony's armor squatting down to close his eyes.
He hated that person, he hated him so much he wanted to tear that person apart.
But was that person Tony? Was it?
He didn't know.
He really didn't know.
This momentary hesitation gave Tony the chance.
Tony's knee hit his abdomen, and he was directly knocked flying, crashing into the edge of the experimental workbench. The excruciating pain in his back made his vision go dark.
Tony crawled up from the ground, the blood at the corner of his mouth still flowing.
"Get up, aren't you going to fight? Get up." Tony said with incomparable anger.
Steve stood up.
He rushed up, Tony also rushed up, and the two crashed into each other again in the center of the laboratory.
This time there were no techniques, no tactics, only the most primitive and barbaric punch-to-flesh combat.
Steve punched Tony on the right cheek, and Tony punched Steve on the left cheekbone.
Steve slammed his forehead towards Tony's bridge of the nose, and Tony kneed towards Steve's thigh.
They fought from the experimental workbench to the holographic projection area, and from the holographic projection area to the doorway of the armor vault.
Tony smashed the glass door of the armor vault, and Steverushed in after him.
The two fell among those rows of red and gold armor, like two punks brawling on the street, rather than heroes who once fought side by side to save the World.
Those armors fell silently on the ground, like a row of silent bystanders, watching their creator and a former friend destroy each other.
Steve pinned Tony to the ground, grabbing his neck with both hands.
Tony's hands groped around and grabbed a reactor core.
An exposed, glowing core that wasn't installed on any armor.
Without hesitation, he pressed the core onto Steve's chest.
Blue electric arcs exploded across Steve's body, his muscles twitching uncontrollably, and his fingers loosened from Tony's neck.
His entire body was blasted flying, crashing against the wall of the armor vault, sliding down, sitting on the ground, and panting heavily.
Tony crawled up from the ground, kneeling on the ground, also panting.
The two looked at each other across the debris and dust all over the floor of the armor vault, the distance no more than five meters, but that distance looked as if it were separated by an entire galaxy.
Just at this moment, the door of the room they were in was blown open.
The Impact of the explosion shattered all the glass that was already half-broken, and flames and thick smoke surged in.
Then Natasha rushed out from the smoke, her long red hair flying behind her.
Behind her was Sam, and behind Sam was Nick Fury.
Nick Fury wore a black coat, his single eye flashing with a cold light in the smoke.
When he walked into the laboratory, the temperature of the entire room seemed to drop by a few degrees.
"Enough." Fury said.