New York City, Times Square.
Pierce led his agents as they marched several bound prisoners into the heart of the square. He was preparing to hold a public execution.
Every giant screen in Times Square was broadcasting the spectacle live. Beyond that, he had seized control of all television networks. There were no other programs today. There was only this broadcast.
Pierce had already received word. The helicarriers were fully retrofitted and ready to launch at a moment's notice.
For Pierce, the completion of the carriers was the best news he could have hoped for. It was the power he needed to overturn the old world order.
To the public, this might look like an execution. But he knew better. This was Hydra's coronation ceremony. After today, he would be the new Supreme Leader of Hydra.
And for a king, there was no finer gift than the submission of his subjects and the heads of his enemies.
That was why he had not executed Nick Fury and the others immediately. They were bait, meant to lure Steve Rogers and his allies out of hiding so he could crush them all at once.
"Steve Rogers. Tony Stark. And you, the hacker. I know you're watching. Surrender your weapons immediately. Turn yourselves in. Otherwise, these people die."
"Anyone who spots them must report it at once. Failure to comply will be treated as an act of resistance."
He strode forward, coming to a stop in front of Harry Osborn before the eyes of millions. Several agents then escorted Norman Osborn out.
Norman was dressed in his usual suit, his expression grim.
"Harry!"
The moment he saw his son, he couldn't hold back a desperate shout.
Pierce observed this with a satisfied nod and a faint smile. The scene was being captured by every media outlet present and beamed directly into the homes of every American. This was exactly what Pierce wanted.
He needed someone to publicly kneel as an example to the world. He needed to show them what awaited those who submitted and what fate befell those who defied him.
Norman Osborn was the perfect candidate for the role. With Harry Osborn in his grasp, Pierce had no fear that Norman would resist.
"We meet again, Norman."
Pierce descended the steps of the Broadway Theatre building standing tall in the center of Times Square. He stopped a short distance away, meeting Norman's gaze.
"Let my son go, Pierce."
"I'm afraid I can't do that. Your son, Harry," Pierce said, his tone almost genial, "has been involved in treasonous activities. He aided these criminals in attacking SHIELD agents. That is a direct challenge to the World Security Council and to our nation."
"Of course, he's still young."
Pierce paused, as if considering the matter. "Perhaps he was misled. But I need you to provide sufficient evidence to prove his actions were unintentional."
"Show me your sincerity, Osborn. Prove your loyalty to this country. Show it to me here and now."
Norman bit down hard on his lip. Submit... or watch his son die. For a man nearing fifty, it was a cruelly calculated choice.
But it was all an act.
In reality, Norman Osborn was waiting for a signal. The signal for the counterattack.
At the Daily Bugle.
Peter stood in Jameson's office. The older man and the younger man faced each other in a tense standoff. Outside the glass walls, every employee had stopped working, their eyes fixed on the scene unfolding within.
Peter was disheveled. He had barely had time to throw on regular clothes over his suit, and there was still grime on his face, making him look weak and worn out. His gaze fell upon the fresh stacks of newspapers on Jameson's desk. The headlines screamed:
Spider-Man: Vicious Criminal!
Captain America: A Hydra Conspiracy!
"You can't print these, Mr. Jameson!" Peter swayed, stumbling forward and bracing himself on the desk to keep from falling. "Spider-Man isn't a bad guy, and Captain America isn't Hydra. We have to tell people the truth."
For once, the usually irascible Jameson was eerily calm. He took a slow drag from his cigar, blew out a cloud of gray smoke, and crossed his legs, watching Peter's performance with a detached air.
"I know you might not believe me, but we really need to tell everyone. We need to unite anyone we can."
"Stop."
Jameson cut him off. He stubbed out the unfinished cigar in an ashtray and raised his voice.
"Where is he?"
"What?"
Peter blinked, completely thrown by the question.
Jameson's face twisted with impatience. He slammed a hand on the desk. "I said, where is the person who can show his face, make people believe him, and unite everyone?"
He let out a scoff.
"Surely you don't think that person is you?"
"I'll go find him!" Peter's lips pressed into a determined line, and without another word, he bolted out of the office.
Jameson watched him go, tugged at his tie, and slumped back into his chair with a grumble.
"Clumsy kid. Doesn't even notice his collar sticking out."
He snatched up the phone on his desk. "Destroy those papers. We've got a new story."
At the Hardy Foundation.
Connors had run into a problem. Mrs. Hardy had discovered him. The sharp-tongued woman knew exactly how to protect herself in times like these. She immediately reached for her phone, ready to report Connors's whereabouts to SHIELD.
But Octavius was faster. His mechanical arms snapped into place, one of them darting forward to seize Mrs. Hardy's wrist.
"Otto Octavius! How dare you!"
Mrs. Hardy's face contorted with disbelief. In her mind, Otto was nothing more than an employee she paid. She was the one providing the funds. By all rights, he should be obedient to her every whim. And now this man dared to defy her.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hardy, but I can't let you report Curt," Otto said, shaking his head.
"Are you trying to get me killed? Haven't you seen what happened to Osborn and Stark? All their operations have been frozen. Tony Stark is a fugitive. And poor old Norman Osborn is being humiliated on national television just to save his son. Do you want the Hardy Foundation to suffer the same fate?"
Otto knew he was in the wrong. He thought for a moment before replying.
"I'll take Curt and leave."
"Impossible! What about all the money I poured into your experiments? If you leave, what was that all for?" Mrs. Hardy shot back.
Those experiments were money pits. They had yet to produce any tangible results, and now Otto wanted to just walk away with Connors?
Otto felt a pang of guilt. His research had progressed slowly. Though he had been frugal, he had indeed burned through a significant amount of funding.
Seeing his hesitation, Mrs. Hardy seized the opening and pressed the hotline number Pierce had provided for tips.
Ring, ring, ring.
Back in Times Square.
Pierce was waiting for Norman Osborn's decision when his phone suddenly rang. He didn't need to guess who it was. It had to be a tip.
"It seems someone is smarter than you, Norman," Pierce smirked. He picked up the phone and answered.
But the voice on the other end was not a tipster. It was an agent, frantic and breathless.
"Mr. Pierce! Someone has hacked our network!"
"What?"
Pierce's face went pale.
"All the feeds have been replaced!"
Before the agent had even finished speaking, the massive screen on the Broadway Theatre building flickered. A man whose face belonged on a monument appeared.
"Steve!"
Pierce ground his teeth.
On the screen, Steve Rogers wore the combat uniform he had retrieved from the museum. The style might be a little dated, but the advantage was that everyone knew it. There weren't many people in America who hadn't visited his exhibit.
"This is Steve Rogers. You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you have even been ordered to arrest me. I think it's time you knew the truth."
In the distance, Bant pulled a USB drive from a terminal and walked over to a floor-to-ceiling window to watch. He was the one who had helped Steve Rogers hack into SHIELD's network, allowing the feed from the Daily Bugle's studio to be broadcast across every screen.
Banner sat nearby, looking slightly sheepish.
"Did you guys write him a script for this?"
"No need for a script, Dr. Banner. He just needs to speak from the heart," Bant said, tapping his own chest.
Banner nodded, then asked, a bit nervously, "Do you need me to go on the offensive?"
"Not necessary. You're a scientist. Scientists don't have the same... um... physical strength as those guys. You don't need to be on the front lines."
Banner found that answer very agreeable. Having seven doctorates was something he prided himself on.
In Times Square, agents clustered together, listening to Steve Rogers's speech. Not all of them were Hydra. Many were genuine SHIELD operatives, and they had been deeply confused by the orders to arrest Nick Fury and Captain America.
Inside the NYPD, George Stacy was busy repositioning his forces. He heard the broadcast too. In fact, everyone did.
"SHIELD has changed. It's been taken over by Hydra. And it's not just them. There are Hydra agents everywhere. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE team and the Insight crew are with him too."
"I don't know exactly who else is involved, but they're here. In this country. They might be standing right next to you."
"They're close to winning. See those three helicarriers in the sky? Once they gain full control, they'll use those weapons to eliminate anyone they perceive as a threat. Unless we stop them."
As Steve's words echoed through the square, the agents standing within the Hydra ranks began to waver. Each operative gripped their sidearm tighter, eyes darting warily toward those around them. Inside the helicarriers themselves, the same tension took hold.
In response, every Hydra agent sprung into action. Unlike the confused and suspicious loyalists, they knew exactly who the enemy was.
In Times Square, Hydra bared its fangs. Blood and sacrifice blossomed.
Steve's voice continued.
"I know this is difficult. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. I'm willing to pay that price. Even if I'm the only one standing, I'm willing. But I don't believe I will be."
That was the cue.
Bant cut Steve Rogers's feed. The next act belonged to Norman Osborn.
In Times Square, Pierce's expression was livid. He couldn't believe that even now, Steve Rogers had managed to land a blow like this. To be hacked during such a critical moment... those incompetent agents, whether Hydra or SHIELD, were useless. They had no right to exist.
"The snake's skin is showing, Pierce," Norman taunted.
Pierce's phone was exploding with calls. Everyone he had ever worked with who wasn't Hydra was trying to reach him, demanding to know if Steve Rogers's accusations were true.
Pierce threw the phone to the ground.
"It doesn't matter anymore!"
A strange calm settled over him. He had intended to maintain the facade of SHIELD to rule from the shadows. Instead, he was met with suspicion and defiance. Fine, then.
"I'm done pretending. I'll lay it all out."
He spread his arms in a gesture of arrogant defiance.
"I am Hydra."
"What are you going to do about it? Defy me?" He jabbed a finger toward the sky. "Soon, three powerful helicarriers will arrive over this very spot. Anyone who resists me will be erased."
"I always thought you were a smart man, Norman."
Pierce walked toward Norman Osborn, his face as hard and cold as ice.
"Tell me. Tell the world your choice."
He gestured toward the cameras. The eyes of the entire world were fixed on the two men standing before them.
"Just say 'Hail Hydra,' and you can walk with me into the new world. Osborn will replace Stark as the most powerful corporation in America. Your son will live. And you will have all the power and status you've ever dreamed of."
"No."
Norman's voice rang out like a hammer striking an anvil, sharp and resolute. His bravery was broadcast to every corner of the nation. Who could have imagined the chairman of Oscorp had such an iron backbone?
"I would rather die!"
"Then I'll grant your wish."
Pierce drew a pistol and aimed it squarely at Norman's chest.
Bang!
The moment the shot rang out, it was as if the entire screen went black. It took a long moment for the Americans watching the live feed to realize they had involuntarily squeezed their eyes shut in fear.
But Norman Osborn, staring down the barrel of that gun, had not flinched a single step backward.
The bullet never touched him. Because Captain America, Steve Rogers, had descended from the sky, his star-spangled shield raised high to deflect the shot.
Above, Falcon circled in the air. Steve had landed in a crouch, holding the shield aloft as if offering a banner of defiance to Norman Osborn.
At the same moment, a streak of fire plummeted from the heavens. Tony Stark, clad in his red and gold armor, landed with a dramatic flourish on Norman's other side.
Norman held no weapon. He wore no armor. Yet he looked like the most formidable man on the battlefield.
He took a step forward, raised his fist, and roared:
"Avengers, assemble!"
In the next instant, Spider-Man and Lizard Connors landed behind him.
In that moment, Norman Osborn stood as if destiny itself had chosen him to lead.
/-\
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