HYDRA Research Base - Castle Interior
The castle's interior was a maze of narrow, shadowed corridors, illuminated only by flickering emergency lights and the eerie blue glow of HYDRA's strange devices. Ancient stone walls that had stood for centuries now housed twisted experiments and stolen technology. The air was thick with the metallic tang of overheating machinery and the acrid stench of burnt gunpowder.
Oliver moved silently, his footsteps nearly soundless against the stone floor. He'd parted ways with the Maximoff siblings shortly after entering—each of them had their own path to follow. Wanda and Pietro had their objectives, and he had his.
His gaze swept over the surroundings, analyzing every detail—the reinforced doors, control panels, HYDRA symbols etched into the walls like a brand of arrogance.
'Curiosity killed the cat, huh?' The thought flickered through his mind as he rounded a corner—only to be met with a searing blue energy blast aimed straight at him.
Instinctively, he raised his hand. A shimmering golden shield materialized in midair, deflecting the shot with a sharp clang. The projectile ricocheted and exploded against the wall, leaving behind a smoldering black scar.
"There!" a HYDRA soldier shouted, pointing at him.
Within seconds, an entire squad emerged from the adjacent corridor, weapons raised and trained squarely on his chest. The eyes behind their masks were cold, trained to show no hesitation.
Oliver studied them, an ironic smile curling at his lips.
"Ah, in the MCU or anywhere else, there's always a dumbass for every occasion," he muttered, more to himself than to the soldiers.
His eyes began to glow fiercely, golden energy pulsing in his irises like miniature suns.
"Fire!" the squad leader barked. In an instant, a barrage of blue energy bolts lit up the corridor with an eerie, ghostly glow.
Oliver didn't flinch.
He kept walking toward them, each step deliberate, as the shots slammed into his golden barrier and fizzled out like rain against unbreakable glass.
Pshhh! Tzzzz!
The sounds of nullified projectiles echoed down the hall, but the soldiers—whether from training or sheer stupidity—kept firing.
'Jesus Christ, do these guys ever quit?' Oliver thought, irritation flaring.
Done with their futility, he decided to end it.
In the blink of an eye, he vanished from his spot—only to reappear directly in front of the squad leader. Before the man could react, Oliver seized him by the throat, lifting him off the ground like a ragdoll.
"I'm done with this," Oliver muttered, voice thick with annoyance.
With a sharp motion, he hurled the commander into the stone wall. The impact was brutal—a sickening CRACK echoed through the corridor, followed by a muffled groan. The man's body slumped to the floor, unconscious... or worse.
Oliver didn't have time to check.
The remaining soldiers froze, exchanging uneasy glances. Some lowered their weapons; others took a step back.
"Anyone else feeling heroic?" Oliver asked, his eyes still burning with that unnatural golden light.
Silence.
He sighed, stepping past them as if they were nothing more than inconvenient furniture in his way.
Unfinished business.
After all, he still had a mad scientist to find... and a certain scepter to retrieve.
CLANG!
The metallic echo rang through the corridor as a final, cowardly shot—fired at his back—ricocheted harmlessly off his golden barrier. Oliver paused. Slowly, he turned his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, his eyes still burning with that unearthly glow.
The soldier who had fired was visibly shaking, his trembling hands still gripping the smoking weapon. The rest of the squad had already distanced themselves from him—some pressed against the walls, others on their knees—all wearing expressions of pure terror. It was clear they wanted no part in what was about to happen.
Oliver took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, his irritation had given way to something almost comically resigned.
With a flick of his wrist—casual, almost lazy, like swatting away a fly—he released a pulse of golden energy. An invisible, fluid force seized the soldiers and slammed them against the walls with a series of dull THUDS. Bodies collided with stone, some groaning before sliding to the ground, unconscious.
But Oliver wasn't done.
Another wave of his hand, and the corridor itself seemed to reshape around them. The stone rippled like living clay, morphing into hooks and manacles that clamped around the unconscious soldiers, pinning them firmly against the walls. Not enough to injure—just enough to ensure they wouldn't be a nuisance anymore.
"There's always one idiot in this world," Oliver muttered, shaking his head as he resumed walking. "Truly incredible."
"I must agree."
The voice came from behind him—smooth, laced with a distinct Russian accent. A shiver ran down Oliver's spine, not from fear, but recognition. He didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Wanda Maximoff stepped up beside him, her footsteps so light they barely echoed against the stone floor. When he glanced sideways, she was already there, wearing a small, almost amused smile.
"I thought you'd be after Strucker," Oliver remarked, keeping his tone casual.
Wanda shrugged, her scarlet eyes glinting with their own inner light.
"He's heading for the east tower," she replied. "And coincidentally, you're in the way."
Oliver arched a brow.
"Got it."
A silence settled between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
Wanda was the one to break it first.
"You could have killed them," she observed, her gaze flickering briefly to the restrained soldiers. "But you only trapped them."
Oliver studied her face, his golden eyes darkening for a moment.
"Killing is easy," he said. "But not everything easy is worth doing."
Wanda held his gaze, and for a heartbeat, something unspoken passed between them—a quiet understanding.
Then, she tilted her head toward the corridor ahead.
"Shall we? Before Pietro decides Strucker is his problem."
Oliver laughed, falling into step beside her.
"After you, Witch."
...
HYDRA Research Base – Courtyard
Pietro Maximoff was a silver hurricane tearing through the base's corridors. After letting Wanda handle Strucker on her own—he knew damn well his sister didn't need help with that relic—he'd decided his time was better spent sowing pure, beautiful chaos.
And what chaos it was.
Zoom!
A HYDRA soldier barely had time to raise his weapon before an icy gust whipped past him—and suddenly he was airborne, crashing into three comrades like a human bowling ball.
Zoom!
In another hallway, an entire squad screamed as their weapons vanished mid-grip, reappearing in a twisted heap twenty meters away, barrels bent like spaghetti.
Zoom!
One quicker officer managed to squeeze his trigger, but the blue energy bolts hit empty air—Pietro was already behind him, blowing a teasing breath on his neck before disappearing again.
"A ghost! It's a ghost!" a superstitious soldier wailed, crossing himself.
Pietro laughed as he ran, reveling in the panic. If the Avengers were the sledgehammer, he'd be HYDRA's silent nightmare—well, mostly silent.
Then came the problem.
BOOM!
The ground exploded meters ahead, forcing Pietro into a jarring swerve that nearly sent him tumbling. He ducked behind a crumbling wall, catching his breath.
In the outer courtyard, two HYDRA heavy tanks pivoted their cannons, hunting targets. Pietro scowled.
"Okay... that's complicated," he muttered, chewing his lip.
Disarming a hundred soldiers? Easy. But tanks? Different league entirely. Speed was his gift, not super-strength. A direct hit from those cannons would be game over—no amount of reflexes would save him from that kind of blast.
He eyed the tanks, then the pandemonium he'd created, and finally the sky where the Avengers were battling.
"Hmm." A mischievous grin split his face. "Maybe it's time to... collaborate."
With one last glance at the tanks, Pietro vanished in a burst of speed—this time, toward the sounds of the heaviest fighting. If anyone could handle armored vehicles, it was New York's superheroes.
Pietro Maximoff was a silver streak cutting through the air, his feet barely skimming the ground as he raced toward the castle exit. The wind whistled in his ears, his silver hair streaming behind him like a comet's tail. But then—shit—he remembered.
"The barrier!"
Damn it!
He slammed to a stop, his sneakers screeching against the stone floor, sparks flying from the friction. In the blink of an eye, he pivoted, his body nearly losing balance from the sharp turn.
BOOM!
A tank shell struck exactly where he would've been if he hadn't swerved. The explosion sent debris and dust flying, but Pietro was already airborne, leaping like a startled cat.
"Fuck!"
Mid-jump, he realized the problem: with no ground contact, he couldn't push off. His speed was useless in the air.
The world seemed to slow as he fell, HYDRA's blue energy projectiles arcing toward him like deadly fireflies. He twisted, knowing he couldn't dodge them all—
Then, whoosh—the world blinked out.
A golden flash, a tug behind his navel, and suddenly he was somewhere else, held firmly in someone's arms.
"You okay?"
Pietro looked up to see Oliver, his golden eyes still faintly glowing, and Wanda beside him wearing that uniquely sisterly expression—equal parts annoyed and worried.
"Oh, hey," Pietro replied, trying to sound as cool as ever.
Oliver immediately let go of him.
"Oof!"
Pietro landed hard on his ass, prompting Wanda to roll her eyes.
"Idiot," she muttered, though the affection in her voice was unmistakable.
Rubbing his sore hip, Pietro took in their surroundings. They stood in what looked like a control room—shattered monitors, smoldering panels, and several unconscious HYDRA soldiers stuck to the walls like discarded flypaper.
"Took a shortcut," Oliver said dryly. "By the way, great call charging straight at the tanks. Very strategic."
Pietro pouted. "I had a plan."
"Which was?" Wanda crossed her arms.
"...Run faster?"
Wanda sighed, but Oliver laughed—a surprisingly genuine sound.
"Alright, Flash," Oliver said, offering a hand to pull him up. "Let's end this. I'll handle the tanks, you mop up the soldiers, and Wanda—"
"—I deal with Strucker," Wanda finished, her scarlet eyes burning with dark resolve.
Pietro stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders. "Great. Teamwork?"
Oliver grinned, golden energy already swirling around his hands again.
"Teamwork."
...
Tony Stark, encased in his signature red-and-gold armor, hovered midair as his eyes scanned the chaotic scene below. The sky burned orange with sunset, but what truly caught his attention was the strange golden glow pulsing from within the castle—its radiance contrasting sharply with the occasional silver streak darting across the grounds at impossible speeds.
"Jarvis, what's cooking in there?" Tony asked, his voice slightly echoing inside the helmet as he adjusted his visual systems for a clearer read.
His AI's response was immediate, and not what he'd hoped for.
[Unable to detect specifics, sir. Barrier interference is likely, but energy readings are off the charts.]
Tony huffed in irritation, banking sharply to evade a blue energy projectile streaking toward him. In one fluid motion, he spun midair and returned fire, repulsor blasts taking out the HYDRA soldiers stationed outside the barrier.
"Jarvis, find me an entry point. Better yet—pinpoint whatever's powering this shield," he demanded, already mentally mapping weak points in the enemy's defenses.
[Scanning... A distinct energy signature is emanating from beneath the north tower.]
Tony didn't hesitate.
"Great. Let's poke it."
With a roar of repulsors, he shot toward the tower, weaving through enemy fire. En route, he unleashed a volley of precision missiles at the structure's base. The explosions lit up the twilight—and one projectile struck true, obliterating the shield's power source in a spectacular blast.
"Drawbridge is down," Tony announced smugly as the golden barrier began dissolving into the evening air.
His triumph lasted exactly three seconds.
Alarms shrieked in his helmet—his HUD exploding with crimson warnings as systems went haywire.
[ENERGY SPIKE DETECTED!]
The display glitched violently before showing pure static. Worse, his suit started rebooting itself, systems reacting to the thick, metallic taste of foreign energy now saturating the air.
"JARVIS!" Tony barked, manually overriding controls as his armor vibrated like a tuning fork struck too hard.
Every alarm felt like needles stabbing through his bones. His HUD strobed blood-red, data streams twisting like leaves in a hurricane. The Arc Reactor—normally a steady blue heartbeat—now pulsed erratically, casting eerie gold reflections across his armor plates.
"The hell...?" His voice sounded muffled even to himself. A bizarre sensation crawled up his spine—like ants marching under his skin from neck to fingertips.
[UNKNOWN COSMIC ENERGY DETECTED] JARVIS's voice crackled like a dying radio. [ENERGY SIGNATURE... NO DATABASE MATCH... ANOMALY CLASS... UNCLASSIFIED...]
Tony's gauntleted fists clenched instinctively as his armor's stabilization systems flickered erratically. His attention snapped downward where a swirling vortex of golden energy had formed, sending luminous sparks dancing through the air like electrified fireflies. Through his enhanced optical systems, he could just make out three figures at the eye of this unnatural storm: the silver blur he'd seen streaking across the battlefield earlier, the woman wreathed in scarlet energy... and a third figure that made his breath catch in his throat.
The man glowed with an intense golden aura, but it was his eyes that commanded attention - twin supernovae blazing with what appeared to contain entire universes within their depths. Most unsettling of all, they seemed to be staring directly at him, as if the Iron Man armor's reinforced titanium faceplate were nothing more than tinted glass.
"JARVIS, full spectral analysis on Goldilocks down there! Priority override!" Tony barked, unconsciously adjusting his flight stance to maintain altitude as his systems fluctuated.
[Unable to... complete scan...] JARVIS's voice fragmented into painful static.
[Energy interference... across all primary... and secondary systems...]
Tony's jaw clenched as a sudden power surge rattled through his armor when the golden figure casually raised a hand - not in attack, but what appeared to be a simple greeting to the speedster beside him. Yet the effect was immediate and devastating. Every circuit in the Mark XLIII seemed to scream in protest simultaneously, and Tony watched in horrified fascination as the mysterious figure dissolved into shimmering golden particles that dispersed through the air, leaving behind only a lingering energy mist that visibly warped the fabric of reality around it.
[Critical systems alert!] JARVIS's voice suddenly returned with startling clarity though laced with urgency.
[Armor integrity at 47%. Flight systems unstable. Immediate landing strongly advised.]
The golden afterimage burned in Tony's retinas even as his HUD flickered back to life with damage reports. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a single thought crystallized with perfect clarity: whatever - whoever - that was, it represented an entirely new class of threat. And it had just noticed him.
"Shit!" Tony growled as his boot repulsors spat erratic sparks. His arms shot out instinctively while entering a controlled spiral, the trees below spinning dangerously in his field of vision. "JARVIS, prioritize primary systems reboot! And tell me what the hell this energy is doing to my circuits!"
As he struggled to maintain control, Tony watched the golden mist begin dissipating. Paradoxically, as the strange energy faded, his armor seemed to regain stability. But most intriguing was the Arc Reactor - still pulsing softly in golden hues, as if it had been... modified.
[Fascinating] JARVIS observed, his tone now more analytical.
[The unknown energy appears to have integrated with our power matrix. Overall efficiency increased by 12%. Reactor recharge rate improved by...]
Tony cut him off, eyes frantically scanning the battlefield below. "Wait, it's helping us? Why the hell would anyone do that?"
[Unable to determine motivations, sir] JARVIS replied.
[But data suggests the energy is actively adapting to our technology, not merely interacting with it]
The battlefield below had fallen eerily quiet. HYDRA soldiers lay unconscious, tanks deactivated. Of the three individuals, there was no trace - just circular scorch marks on the ground and a residual glow in the air that fractured the twilight into prisms.
"JARVIS, add 'golden man' to the weird-shit-to-investigate list. Category: 'Potentially dangerous, possibly useful'," Tony ordered, feeling his armor systems finally stabilizing. "And alert me immediately if we detect that energy signature again, anywhere on the planet."
[Logged, sir]
JARVIS paused almost imperceptibly.
[I should note the energy pattern bears vague resemblance to the Tesseract, albeit with significant variations in...]
Tony froze mid-air for a split second—just long enough for his flight path to wobble. "Perfect," he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm and just a hint of genuine concern. "Exactly what we needed—more cosmic mysteries and power plays we don't understand."
As he pulled away from the site, Tony couldn't resist one last glance at the spot where the golden man had stood.
"Iron Man to Avengers, looks like we've got a few more problems on our hands."
...
Baron Wolfgang von Strucker felt sweat trickle down his temple as the base's energy barrier collapsed. His footsteps echoed through the cold stone corridors, his breath ragged as he sprinted toward the emergency exit. So close... so close to escape.
But then—
His muscles betrayed him.
An invisible force, tinged blood-red, coiled around his body like serpents of pure energy. His limbs locked mid-motion, his fingers stiffening just before they could reach the pistol at his hip. He tried to scream, but his voice died in his throat.
Step. Step. Step.
The sound of boots on stone approached slowly. Strucker didn't need to turn his head to know who it was. He'd heard those footsteps before—in the halls of his own laboratory, when she was still just one of his test subjects.
"Where are you going, Baron Strucker?"
Wanda Maximoff's voice was soft, almost melodic, but laced with something that turned Strucker's blood to ice. He managed to shift his eyes enough to see her—her posture poised, her brown hair swaying slightly, her fingers weaving a hypnotic dance of scarlet energy.
His lips moved before his brain could process the fear.
"Child, wh—"
The barest flick of her hand.
And Strucker found he could no longer speak.
His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His lungs burned, straining to force out a scream, an order, a curse—anything. But Wanda only watched him with an expression that wasn't anger.
It was contempt.
"I have no patience for liars like you."
She clenched her fist.
Strucker's body slammed against the wall like a ragdoll. But before he could fall, the stone itself moved, melting and reforming into living chains that coiled around his arms, legs, torso—pinning him like a fly in a web.
He struggled, but every movement only tightened the stone restraints.
Then the air beside him warped.
A golden flash—and a man appeared out of nowhere, his eyes blazing with the same celestial light Strucker had seen in the barrier reports. Tall, dressed in black, with a gaze that seemed to see through him.
As if that weren't enough, a gust of wind sliced through the air—and Pietro Maximoff materialized beside his sister, eyes burning with silent fury.
The golden man—Oliver—stepped forward, shoulder-to-shoulder with Wanda. His lips curved into something that wasn't a smile.
"Baron Strucker, I presume."
Strucker's throat tightened.
He knew that tone.
It was the tone of someone who had already judged him—and found him guilty.
Pietro crossed his arms, his foot tapping impatiently against the floor. "Wanda, can we wrap this up? I still have soldiers to take down."
Wanda didn't respond. Her eyes remained locked on Strucker—and the scarlet energy in her hands flared brighter, casting a sinister glow across the room.
Oliver tilted his head, studying Strucker like a scientist examining an insect trapped in amber.
"You're quite the liar, Baron." His voice was calm, almost polite. "You conducted human experiments, yet thought you could surrender and walk away unscathed. That might've worked… if we were the Avengers."
A chill crawled down Strucker's spine.
Oliver's golden eyes and Wanda's scarlet gaze became a terrifying eclipse looming over him.