HYDRA had survived from World War II to the present day.
Not just survived—thrived. The organization had grown stronger while remaining hidden, its tentacles spreading through governments, corporations, and military forces across the globe. An achievement that would have been impossible for any conventional conspiracy.
But HYDRA wasn't conventional. It had advantages that no other shadow organization could match.
The first advantage was Operation Paperclip.
After Germany's surrender, the United States government had made a calculated decision: Nazi scientists were too valuable to prosecute. Men who'd built rockets for Hitler were quietly relocated to American research facilities. Men who'd conducted horrifying experiments in concentration camps found themselves with new identities, new lives, and generous government salaries.
HYDRA agents had been among them.
The Americans knew, of course. They weren't completely naive about what they were importing. But the Cold War was heating up, the Soviets were recruiting their own Nazi scientists, and the moral calculus of the moment favored pragmatism over justice.
A door had been opened. HYDRA walked through it.
The second advantage was even more significant: SHIELD itself.
The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division had evolved from the wartime Strategic Scientific Reserve—the same organization that had fought against HYDRA during the war. Peggy Carter herself had helped found it, building something meant to protect the world from extraordinary threats.
But SHIELD's greatest strength became HYDRA's greatest asset.
Secrecy.
SHIELD operated in shadows. Its activities were classified at the highest levels. Even the governments that funded it—America, Britain, the major NATO powers—couldn't fully monitor what SHIELD was doing. The organization had become too large, too complex, too compartmentalized for external oversight.
And then Nick Fury took over.
Fury's paranoia was legendary. He trusted no one completely, kept secrets from his own subordinates, and implemented a rigid clearance system that prevented information from flowing freely within SHIELD itself.
Level 1 agents didn't know what Level 3 agents were doing. Level 5 agents couldn't access Level 7 files. And nobody—not even the World Security Council—could force Fury to reveal information he'd classified at Level 10.
The irony was almost beautiful.
Fury's obsession with security had created the perfect environment for HYDRA to flourish. Agents couldn't report suspicious activity because they didn't know what counted as suspicious. Investigations couldn't connect dots because the dots were scattered across incompatible clearance levels. The very systems designed to protect SHIELD from external threats had been weaponized against it from within.
HYDRA grew in the gaps between Fury's secrets.
Alexander Pierce, in particular, had benefited enormously.
Today, HYDRA's supreme leaders were gathering for a rare meeting.
These gatherings happened infrequently—the various heads had different agendas, different priorities, different territories. They shared the HYDRA name and a vague commitment to "order through control," but beyond that, they were essentially independent warlords who happened to fly the same flag.
"Pierce. What do you want?"
Baron Strucker's holographic image flickered slightly as he spoke. All the attendees were projections—nobody trusted anyone else enough to meet in person. The technology wasn't perfect, but it was secure, bounced through enough relays and encryption layers that even SHIELD's best analysts couldn't trace the signals.
Alexander Pierce stood at the head of the virtual table, the only person physically present in the conference room. His position as the meeting's host was a privilege earned through decades of service.
He'd been one of Red Skull's disciples, recruited in the chaos following the Skull's disappearance. While other HYDRA cells scattered and went underground, Pierce had seen opportunity. He'd embedded himself in the SSR, climbed through the ranks, and eventually become SHIELD's first director.
A remarkable achievement. One that had elevated him to HYDRA's inner circle.
But that same success had earned him enemies.
The other supreme leaders resented Pierce. He was a newcomer in their eyes—a latecomer who'd risen too fast, accumulated too much power, claimed a seat at the table that should have taken generations to earn. The old families, the true believers who'd served HYDRA since before the war, looked down on him as an arriviste.
"I'm here to introduce someone powerful," Pierce said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "A candidate to join HYDRA as a new supreme leader."
The holograms shifted, expressions ranging from skepticism to curiosity.
"Who?" demanded one of the voices.
Pierce hadn't expected the Assassin to demand this meeting today. Luke had simply appeared at his door—bypassing every security measure, as usual—and announced that he wanted to meet the rest of HYDRA's leadership.
Apparently, Luke had decided that infiltrating the organization might be entertaining.
"Before I make introductions," Pierce continued, "let me remind everyone of our traditions. Becoming a supreme leader isn't simply about asking. It requires demonstrated capability."
Several holographic heads nodded. They all knew the requirements.
Consider Daniel Whitehall.
His return to HYDRA had been one of the more dramatic stories in the organization's history. Whitehall had been a leader during World War II—one of Red Skull's most trusted lieutenants, responsible for experiments that made even hardened soldiers vomit.
When Germany fell, the Howling Commandos had used intelligence from Red Skull's own files to raid Whitehall's facility. Peggy Carter herself had led the capture team. She'd despised him so thoroughly that she'd arranged for him to be thrown into a black site prison and forgotten—left to rot until old age claimed him.
Decades later, subordinates still loyal to Whitehall's memory had tracked him down. With Pierce's help, they'd extracted him from his unmarked grave of a cell.
But Whitehall had aged. Decades of imprisonment had withered him to a husk.
So he'd found a solution.
An Inhuman woman—Skye's mother, though that connection wouldn't be discovered for years—had been captured by HYDRA operatives. Her body possessed regenerative capabilities that defied medical understanding. Whitehall had harvested her organs, transplanted them into himself, and emerged from surgery looking exactly as he had during the war.
Young. Vital. Terrifying.
He'd walked back into HYDRA without any vetting process, claimed his old position, and nobody had questioned it. Who would dare?
Then there was Baron Heinrich Zemo.
Another wartime figure. Another of Red Skull's inner circle. When HYDRA went underground after 1945, Zemo had simply... vanished. No contact with other cells. No participation in rebuilding efforts. Nothing.
For decades, nobody knew if he was alive or dead.
Then HYDRA started thriving again—infiltrating governments, accumulating resources, approaching its pre-war power levels—and Zemo reappeared. He'd shown up at a leadership meeting, announced his return, and demanded his old seat back.
The cynical interpretation was obvious. Zemo had run when HYDRA was in trouble and returned to claim benefits when it prospered. A rat abandoning a sinking ship, then swimming back when the ship somehow righted itself.
Nobody had challenged him. Zemo's reputation was too fearsome, his connections too deep.
The lesson was clear: HYDRA's leadership wasn't about loyalty or ideology. It was about power. If you had enough of it, you could write your own rules.
"He calls himself the Assassin."
Pierce gestured, and a figure in white robes materialized beside him. The man's face was hidden behind a featureless mask, but his posture radiated confidence—the easy assurance of someone who knew exactly how dangerous he was.
"Pierce!" One of the holograms immediately moved to disconnect. "You're violating protocol!"
"You can't bring outsiders before us without unanimous approval!"
Several other voices joined the chorus of objection. This was unprecedented. The whole point of their security measures was to prevent exactly this kind of exposure.
"Silence."
Luke's voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise like a blade.
To emphasize his point, he placed his palm on the metal conference table—genuine steel, built to withstand decades of use—and pressed down.
The table didn't dent.
It disintegrated.
Metal crumpled inward like paper, fracturing along lines of force that shouldn't have been possible. In seconds, the entire surface collapsed into a compressed mass of twisted steel, barely recognizable as furniture.
The HYDRA leaders stared.
That was metal. Military-grade construction, designed to survive bomb blasts. And this stranger had destroyed it with casual pressure.
Even the Winter Soldier couldn't do that. Bucky Barnes was HYDRA's greatest weapon, a super-soldier capable of going toe-to-toe with Captain America himself, and he couldn't crush steel like it was aluminum foil.
What the hell is this person?
"You may call me the Assassin." Luke's voice was calm, measured, utterly unconcerned by the shocked expressions surrounding him. "I come from a land you consider forbidden—Middle-earth. I lead an organization of assassins that has existed for... a very long time."
Middle-earth.
Most of the HYDRA leaders had never heard the term. They assumed it was a region they'd somehow missed in their intelligence gathering—some hidden territory where this "Assassin organization" had built its power base.
Luke was, of course, making a Tolkien reference. But they didn't need to know that.
Baron Strucker's hologram leaned forward, his expression shifting from shock to calculating interest.
He'd spent years experimenting with enhanced individuals. The Inhumans fascinated him—humans with dormant alien DNA that could be activated through exposure to Terrigen crystals, granting supernatural abilities. He currently had two promising subjects under observation, twins who would eventually become known as Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver.
But this? This casual demonstration of superhuman strength, from someone who claimed to lead an entire organization of similar beings?
Strucker wanted to know more.
He wanted to know everything.
PLZ THROW POWERSTONES.
300 , 500 , 1000 for each milestone 1 Bonus Chapter