Steve's hand hovered inches from the override lever, muscles tensed, breath shallow. The hum of the helicarriers above vibrated through the walls, matching the pounding of his heart. Red light flashed across the control deck in a steady rhythm, bathing everything in a warning glow.
Behind him, the HYDRA agent's voice trembled—not with fear, but with fury. "Don't be a hero, Rogers. You pull that lever, and we both go down."
Steve didn't flinch. His voice was quiet, resolute.
"I was never here to survive."
Then, without hesitation, he moved.
A flash of motion. A single breath.
Steve dropped low into a crouch, twisting his torso as the gun discharged. The shot cracked like thunder, narrowly missing the side of his head. The heat from the muzzle flash burned his cheek as he twisted beneath the line of fire.
He spun in a blur, launching himself backward into the HYDRA agent with his full weight.
They crashed into the steel-plated wall. The agent grunted in pain, the pistol clattering across the floor. Without time to draw breath, Steve twisted and pinned him, but the man fought back hard—grappling for Steve's arm, reaching down for the combat knife strapped to his thigh.
Too late.
Steve drove his forearm into the man's face, stunning him. A quick follow-up punch knocked the agent unconscious. The body slumped to the floor.
Steve turned without delay.
The main screen flashed:
FIRING SEQUENCE: 00:00:07
His eyes widened.
He lunged forward.
His gloved hand wrapped around the lever's grip. He yanked the locking mechanism free, twisted the release valve, and pulled.
For a beat—everything went still.
The chamber lights flickered.
The terminal let out a long, mechanical tone.
Then the screen blinked:
OVERRIDE ACCEPTED.
TOWER ONE: SHUTDOWN CONFIRMED.
Steve collapsed against the console, exhaling the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The tremor in his arms betrayed just how close it had been.
But before relief could settle, the building groaned again—louder this time.
A thunderous explosion ripped through the ceiling above, sending fire, smoke, and metal raining down. One of the massive lighting fixtures burst from its housing and crashed to the ground just feet away from where Steve stood.
He ducked behind the control panel as debris showered the room. The entire tower shuddered under the force of the blast. Sirens wailed anew, overlapping in a disharmonic scream of emergency.
Smoke flooded the air, thick and acrid. Flames licked at exposed wires. The emergency lights failed, plunging the room into flickering chaos, red and black battling for dominance.
Steve coughed as he pushed himself upright, visibility reduced to meters. The hiss of steam from ruptured pipes filled the space. Fire suppression systems began to sputter into action, adding freezing mist to the growing haze.
Through the shifting smoke, a monstrous shadow began to descend—slowly, deliberately.
The tremors returned, each pulse stronger than the last.
Steve rose, his knees aching, one hand lifting his shield into a ready position.
And above the chaos, pushing through the flames, came the unmistakable silhouette of the second helicarrier—descending straight over the Triskelion with weapons hot.
Its guns turned slowly.
Its engines roared louder.
And its underside opened.
End of Chapter 108
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