Steve burst into the west tower control deck just as the building groaned beneath the force of the ascending helicarriers. The room shuddered violently, dust cascading from broken ceiling panels, lights flickering overhead. Every surface vibrated from the low rumble of engines rising through the silo.
Emergency sirens wailed in rhythmic bursts, drowning out the sharp stomp of his boots. Red lights bathed the room in intermittent flashes. The digital countdown glared from the central console—silent, merciless.
A dozen HYDRA agents were already there.
Armed. Alert. Braced for impact.
Steve didn't slow down.
He hurled his shield with lethal accuracy. It slammed into the first guard's chest, ricocheted off a steel pillar, and knocked a second man to the floor. Before it even stopped spinning, Steve vaulted a server core, caught the shield mid-air, and dove behind a central operations terminal as automatic gunfire burst to life.
Rounds shredded the air where he'd just been. Sparks sprayed from shredded terminals, lighting up the haze of dust and smoke beginning to fill the room.
He didn't hesitate.
Rolling across the floor, Steve closed the gap with brutal speed. He rose with a fierce uppercut that sent one agent sprawling. Another tried to fire point-blank—Steve twisted his arm behind him and slammed him into a reinforced console, knocking the wind from his lungs and shorting out the screen with the man's helmet.
The third was faster.
He tackled Steve, sending both men crashing into the wall. They struggled, grappling, elbows and fists blurring. Steve broke free with a knee to the gut and finished it with a spinning backhand using the edge of his shield.
The last guard tried to flee—Steve flung his shield once more, catching him in the back. The man dropped with a thud.
The deck fell silent—only the alarms and countdown remained.
Steve scrambled to the main console. His gloved fingers flew across the holographic keys, bypassing firewalls, scanning for control sequences.
"Override code," he muttered.
Nothing.
ACCESS DENIED.
He tried again, punching in a different sequence.
INVALID CREDENTIALS.
Steve gritted his teeth, slammed his fist into the display. "Come on…"
The system flickered. Then he saw it—a secondary access port hidden behind a reinforced emergency panel bolted to the side of the control unit. It wasn't digital.
It was manual.
He grabbed a crowbar from the nearby toolkit, jammed it under the panel's edge, and pried. The bolts snapped free. The cover clattered to the floor.
Inside: a rusted manual override lever with a dual safety lock.
Steve reached for it—
—and heard the unmistakable click of a gun cocking behind his head.
He froze.
A HYDRA agent stood in the corner, face bloody, armor scorched, but still conscious. One eye was swollen shut, but the other burned with hatred.
He held the pistol steady, two-handed grip, aimed at the back of Steve's head.
"Step back," he hissed. "You pull that lever, and I'll redecorate the wall."
Steve's shield was across the room.
No cover.
No time.
On the central screen behind him, the firing sequence flashed into its final stage:
FIRING SEQUENCE: 00:00:15
The countdown resumed.
Steve stared straight ahead, chest rising and falling. Every nerve in his body was on edge.
His hand remained frozen inches from the lever. Sweat dripped from his brow.
And the pistol's hammer clicked again.
End of Chapter 107
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