The roar of the helicarrier engines thundered through the Triskelion.
Vibrations rattled every wall. Floor panels trembled underfoot. Dust fell from the ceiling vents. The lights flickered as power rerouted to massive underground lifts. The entire facility groaned like it was being torn from the earth.
On the central screen, the massive crafts breached the surface, rising like ancient titans awakened from slumber. Their armor gleamed under the morning light as their platforms locked into position. Massive weapon ports rotated with ominous purpose, aiming at invisible targets. Digital overlays revealed the truth—each ship's system was already loaded with target coordinates.
Thousands of names. Millions of lives.
Alexander took one glance and turned sharply toward the exit. "We split. Each of us takes a different tower," he said, his voice as hard as steel.
Steve nodded, his eyes glued to the growing silhouettes on the screen. "Disable the launch controls. At least one. That's all we need."
Bucky stood back from them, watching. His fists clenched. Jaw set tight. The humming servers illuminated the confusion in his expression. For a moment, he seemed trapped—between the man he once was and the weapon HYDRA forged.
Alexander turned to him. "You in or out?"
Bucky didn't answer.
He looked at the rising helicarriers. Then to Steve. Then down at the rifle at his feet.
He bent, picked it up slowly—and tossed it aside like it meant nothing. The clang of metal against steel echoed through the chamber. He took a single step forward.
The answer didn't need to be spoken.
Monroe's voice burst over the comms again, urgent and static-laced. "They've locked external access. I've overridden some subsystems, but we need manual shutdown from each deck. Forty-five seconds and counting."
No hesitation.
Steve turned and sprinted.
The corridor split ahead. Alexander veered right, dissolving into the dim emergency lighting. Steve took the left toward the west tower, boots pounding against the floor. The hallway tilted slightly from the structural shift as the launch platforms moved into place. Panels sparked. Ceiling plates loosened.
The sound of alarms blared in his ears, louder than the rasp of his breath. Every second passed like a hammer blow.
Alexander moved like smoke through the structure. He wrapped himself in shadow and vanished into the stairwell. His form flickered between the cracks in the walls, his feet never touching the steps. His path wound toward the northern tower, bypassing security measures with silent precision.
Bucky lingered.
His breath was slow. Steady. His gaze lingered a moment longer on the blinking screens. He didn't know the man staring back at him in the reflection, but he knew what had to be done.
Then he turned and walked into the eastern corridor—fists clenched, eyes focused, metal arm reflecting the red emergency lights. He passed a control panel, briefly glanced at his reflection, and didn't stop.
Three towers.
Three men.
Above the Triskelion, the first helicarrier cleared its silo.
Hydraulic locks disengaged with booming finality. Its engines flared brighter as the ship ascended above the launch bay. The massive vessel leveled out, and its primary targeting array clicked into place.
Dozens of lens-like modules adjusted in unison. AI target analysis systems glowed to life.
On the display inside the central server core, targeting lines finalized one by one.
HUDs locked on major cities.
Washington. New York. San Francisco. Chicago. London.
A blinking cursor flashed.
Then a line of text appeared beneath the countdown:
FIRING SEQUENCE ENGAGED.
End of Chapter 106
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