The moment Aryan gave the order, the Sentinel Complex became the hyper efficient nerve center of a global manhunt.
While the primary council members remained in the war room to oversee the strategic picture, Sharon Carter, Bucky Barnes and Pietro Maximoff became a whirlwind of coordinated action.
"I need every available satellite with thermal and biometric scanning capabilities focused on a five hundred mile radius around Denver," Sharon commanded, her voice authoritative as she stood before a massive holographic map.
Data streams flowed around her, information from Federation traffic control, banking transactions and Umbrella's vast network of public sensors.
"Cross reference all recent vehicle thefts with sightings of our five targets. I want a predictive model of their likely trajectory and I want it ten minutes ago."
The Super Soldier Serum had elevated her. Her mind processed information with a speed and clarity that was superhuman. She could simultaneously track a dozen different intelligence feeds, her thoughts clear and unclouded by stress.
Bucky stood beside her, his focus on a different set of data: tactical deployments. "I'll lead ERO Alpha team," he said.
"Rumlow is the biggest threat. He's a tactician. He'll expect a conventional military response."
Pietro was a blur. He was everywhere at once.
One moment he was grabbing a data slate from a tech, the next he was already across the room, handing it to Bucky, having already absorbed its contents.
"Rumlow's last known position was a truck stop sixty miles east of Denver. He paid for fuel with stolen cash. He's trying to get off grid."
"He's not fast enough," Sharon stated, a cold certainty in her voice. A new icon blinked on her map. "Got him. One of our traffic drones just tagged his stolen pickup, heading east on I 70. They're making a run for Kansas."
"Too slow," Pietro grinned, a flash of silver in his eyes. He tapped his comm. "ERO Beta, this is Maximoff. We have a target. A pickup truck, moving east on I 70. Intercept vector... now. I'll meet you there."
And he was gone. With the sharp crack of displaced air that signaled he was moving at his terrifying speed.
Out on the fendless plains of eastern Colorado, Brock Rumlow, "Crossbones," felt a surge of satisfaction.
The breakout had been chaotic but successful. He had his crew and they were disappearing into the vast American heartland. He knew how this game was played.
He would find a quiet corner of the country, rebuild his network and get back to the business of burning down the new world order.
He glanced in his rearview mirror. Empty highway.
Two EDF "Stingray" stealth transports, flying at treetop level and completely silent, appeared on either side of his truck as if from nowhere.
Before Rumlow could even react, the rear ramps dropped. From each jet, an ERO operator on a high speed assault bike launched, their tires hitting the asphalt at over 150 miles per hour without a wobble.
Rumlow swore, slamming his foot on the accelerator. The pyrokinetic in the passenger seat, a man named Heller, leaned out the window and unleashed a torrent of fire at the nearest bike.
A hexagonal energy shield flared to life around the bike, the flames washing over it harmlessly. The operator then raised a rifle and fired a non-lethal round.
A magnetic 'bolas' wrapped around the truck's rear axle, the vehicle was torn from its forward momentum, spinning out of control and crashing into a ditch.
The two bikes screeched to a halt, forming a perimeter. Before the dazed crew could even recover, Pietro Maximoff was there. He appeared in the ditch beside their truck.
"Morning, boys," he said. "Heard you were looking for a fight."
Rumlow, his face a mask of rage, burst from the driver's side door, his fists raised. "You have no idea who you're dealing with, kid."
Pietro smiled.
To Rumlow, the world seemed to slow down. He saw Pietro's smile widen and then he felt a series of impossibly fast impacts against his chest, his arms, his legs. It felt like being hit with a dozen sledgehammers at once.
He flew backward, every joint in his body screaming in protest, his consciousness winking out before he even hit the ground. Pietro had moved at a speed the human eye couldn't even register.
He had disarmed and neutralized Rumlow and the two other non-powered members of his crew with a series of non lethal strikes, all in the space of a single heartbeat.
Only Heller, the pyrokinetic, remained. He scrambled from the wreck, his hands blazing, ready to incinerate everything.
But before he could unleash his power, he felt a sudden impact on the back of his neck. The world went black.
Bucky Barnes, having arrived in one of the stealth jets, had dropped down from above, his vibranium arm moving with a speed and precision that was almost as superhuman.
"Show off," Bucky grunted, looking at Pietro.
"You're just slow," Pietro shot back with a grin.
The first cell was captured. The entire engagement had lasted less than thirty seconds.
The hunt for the other two was more complex.
The electromagnetic manipulator, a woman named Anya, had blacked out the entire power grid of a small Kansas town and was using the chaos as cover.
The quantum phasing Dr. Thorne was even worse; he was a literal ghost, impossible to track.
This was where Sharon Carter's training as an elite agent came into play. From the war room, she stood before the holographic map, dozens of chaotic data streams scrolling past her… power fluctuations, panicked local communications and dead sensor feeds.
She tapped her comm, opening a secure channel to the council's chief technologist. "Tony, I need a favor. Can you spare JARVIS for a minute?"
"JARVIS is always at the service of the council, Commander," Tony's voice crackled back, followed by the AI's sophisticated tone.
"At your disposal, Commander Carter," JARVIS said.
She commanded. "I need you to run a pattern recognition analysis on the power grid fluctuations in the quarantine zone."
"Of course, Commander Carter," the sophisticated voice of Tony's AI replied through the room's speakers. "Scanning now."
Complex graphs and charts materialized in the air in front of Sharon. "Isolate all anomalous power draws," she ordered. "Filter for anything that isn't a standard grid failure. I'm looking for a repeating pattern."
"Pattern identified," JARVIS replied a moment later. "There is a rhythmic oscillation across three primary transformers, suggesting a controlled feedback loop is being established. The energy build up is exponential."
Sharon's eyes narrowed.
"Run predictive models," she said. "Based on that build up, what's her endgame?"
"The most likely outcome, with a 92.7% probability," JARVIS stated, "is the imminent generation of a high yield electromagnetic pulse. Estimated area of effect: a twelve mile radius."
"She's planning to fry every piece of tech we have the moment we get close," she announced to the war room. "We can't approach her electronically. We have to go in the dark."
She began issuing orders, her voice a rapid fire stream of commands.
ERO teams were ordered to land three miles outside the town and proceed on foot, using only analog communication.
She coordinated with local Federation authorities to create a believable cover story about a solar flare, preventing a wider panic.