Washington, D.C., three levels beneath the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, was a secret room that did not appear on any architectural blueprints.
It was three in the morning, but the room was brightly lit, and the atmosphere was so heavy it could be cut with a knife.
The air was thick with the pungent smell of sweat, anxiety, and a faint sense of fear.
Alexander Pierce stood in the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture upright.
His hair was combed meticulously, his gray suit was well-tailored, and the eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses were currently Burning with suppressed rage.
Just a short while ago, he had taken over as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., marking one of the most significant strategic victories for HYDRA in decades, meaning this organization hidden in the shadows had finally seized control of the most powerful intelligence and security agency in the World.
But now, the joy of this victory was being diluted by a sudden disaster.
"Where are they?" Pierce's voice was terrifyingly calm, but every word pierced into the hearts of everyone in the room like an icicle.
"It has been nearly six hours; where have they gone?"
He slowly turned around, his gaze sweeping over the dozen or so people standing or sitting in the room.
These people were all core members of HYDRA within S.H.I.E.L.D.; some were senior Agents, some were research Directors, and others were key figures in the administrative departments.
At this moment, they were all pale, fine beads of sweat seeping from their foreheads, their fingers typing rapidly on keyboards, their eyes fixed on the streaming data scrolling across their screens.
"Dealing with two scientists who are practically ready for the grave and have no ability to fight back," Pierce continued, his voice still calm, but that calmness was more unsettling than a roar.
"We deployed the trump card we've spent so many years researching, and now they've all gone missing on me? Who can give me an explanation?"
In the corner of the room, a balding middle-aged man in a white lab coat wiped the sweat from his forehead, his voice trembling: "Director, our brainwashing of the Winter Soldier is very strict and thorough; it is impossible for him to regain self-awareness during a mission, and even more impossible for him to leave the mission area without authorization. He must have..."
"Then where is he?" Pierce interrupted him, his gaze piercing the other person with the precision of a scalpel.
"And what about Mr. and Mrs. Stark? Where is the serum? Three living people, five vials of super soldier serum, and they just disappeared right under our noses?"
The balding man opened his mouth, but could not make a sound.
He looked at the others for help, but everyone avoided his gaze.
Pierce took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
Anger would not solve the problem, especially in this current situation.
HYDRA had dispatched the Winter Soldier to assassinate Howard Stark and recover the super soldier serum; this should have been a perfect operation.
Mr. and Mrs. Stark were elderly and had no combat ability, and the operation route was top secret, known to only a very few people.
The Winter Soldier—Bucky Barnes—had, after decades of modification and brainwashing, become HYDRA's sharpest and most reliable weapon.
He had executed thirty-seven high-difficulty assassination and recovery missions and had never failed.
This operation should have been easy and guaranteed to succeed.
Yet, reality had delivered a resounding slap to the face of HYDRA.
Six hours ago, all communication between the Winter Soldier and the command center was suddenly cut off.
At first, they thought it was a signal issue in the mountains, but fifteen minutes later, images transmitted back by surveillance satellites showed Mr. and Mrs. Stark's Cadillac had crashed into a tree on the side of the road, and the Winter Soldier's motorcycle was lying in the grass, but the scene was completely empty.
The emergency ground team arrived thirty minutes later, and the report they brought back was even more confusing.
The vehicle was severely damaged, airbags had deployed, and there was blood inside the car, but not much; the Winter Soldier's motorcycle had no obvious damage.
There were no signs of a struggle at the scene, no signs of any third-party vehicles or personnel, and even very few footprints, only a few sets of footprints leading from the vehicle to the grass on the side of the road, and then they... disappeared.
Three people, as if swallowed by the earth, had vanished into thin air.
What was worse, the metal case containing the five vials of super soldier serum was also gone.
That was intelligence HYDRA had spent massive resources to obtain, the key to them creating a new generation of super soldiers.
"Director..." another younger technician said cautiously.
"We analyzed the satellite images and the photos taken by the ground team again. Judging by the extent of the vehicle damage, the crash was not fatal. Mr. and Mrs. Stark were likely only slightly injured, and the Winter Soldier..."
He hesitated: "The Winter Soldier has no reason to abandon the mission, unless..."
"Unless what?" Pierce stared at him.
"Unless he encountered an irresistible external force." The technician's voice was so low it was almost inaudible.
"Some kind of power we cannot understand."
The room fell into a suffocating silence; everyone knew the implication of that statement, but no one dared to say it out loud.
Pierce walked to the large screen on one side of the room, which was looping the footage captured by the satellite: the pitch-black country road, the crashed vehicle, the empty scene.
The image was very blurry; the resolution of 1991 satellites was limited, and the night-shooting effect was even worse.
In this era, surveillance and satellites had not yet been fully deployed; even for HYDRA, their control over various types of information was not thorough enough.
This was the limitation of the era, and also their weakness.
If it were ten years later, with surveillance cameras spread across cities, more advanced satellite networks, and ubiquitous digital tracking... they would never have let three people just disappear like that.
But now, they were almost fumbling in the dark.
"Then find them! Faster!" Pierce turned around suddenly and slammed his hand heavily onto the metal conference table with a loud "bang," making the entire room seem to vibrate.
The balding man from earlier was startled, shuddering, and nearly fell off his chair.
He scrambled back to his workstation, his fingers trembling as he typed on the keyboard: "Yes, Director! We are calling upon all available resources; the search radius has already been expanded to fifty miles..."
Pierce stopped looking at him and walked to the window. This secret room was buried deep underground, and the so-called "window" was actually a high-definition display screen disguised as a window, showing a real-time simulation of the outside World: the night view of Washington, bright with lights, bustling with traffic.
How ironic; HYDRA had already infiltrated the core of this country's power and seized control of the most powerful intelligence agency in the World, yet they had stumbled so badly in their own trump card operation.
He had finally climbed to the position of Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. after decades of lurking, planning, carefully managing relationships, and eliminating obstacles... every step had been like walking on thin ice.
He had thought that after taking this position, he would be able to use his hidden identity to completely infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D., turning this organization that once opposed HYDRA into a breeding ground for HYDRA's growth.