Bucky's flesh-like corpse, engulfed in flames, melted into a charred, black pool.
Seeing this, everyone felt as though they could smell the scent of burning flesh.
As battle-hardened members of the special forces, they were no strangers to corpses. They didn't feel sick—but even so, they couldn't help the instinctive revulsion creeping up their spines.
The scene was simply too tragic.
Slowly, all eyes turned toward the murderer—Iron Man, Tony Stark.
Tony's face was hidden behind the cold metal mask, obscuring any expression, any hint of emotion. No one could see what he was feeling.
But they could guess.
And what they guessed… was that Tony felt satisfied.
"Bucky!"
Captain's voice broke with anguish. He gripped the shield in his hand tighter, his chest heaving with fury, eyes blazing with grief and rage.
"Tony… is this what you wanted?!"
His glare could have cut steel. He clenched his fists, his entire body trembling.
Tony met his gaze and nodded. "Yes. This is exactly what I wanted to see."
Now that Bucky was confirmed dead, Tony suddenly seemed calm.
The fury, the paranoia—it was gone.
In its place stood the familiar Tony Stark.
Cold. Controlled.
"Good. Good," Steve repeated to himself, trying to accept the truth.
He raised his dented shield, teeth clenched, and locked eyes with Tony.
"Tony… now it's our fight."
With Bucky gone, the last thread tying them together was severed.
From now on, they were enemies.
"You want to avenge him?" Tony sneered. "A man who murdered my parents? Don't forget—he killed your comrades too."
"But it wasn't his fault!" Captain shouted. "He was brainwashed by Hydra!"
…
The argument between Tony and Steve raged on.
The special forces could only stand by helplessly.
They had no power to stop any of this.
Not with Tony's Iron Legion looming—the capability to wipe out the entire unit was very real.
To survive, they had no choice but to endure it.
Meanwhile, inside the White House, the atmosphere was tense.
Everyone had just received the latest news.
"Where is the Justice League?" the president demanded, frowning in frustration. "Why haven't we heard anything from them yet?"
"We can't reach them," John Koehler replied, a bead of sweat running down his temple. "Anton isn't answering. No one besides him can get in contact with the Justice League."
"Damn it!"
The president gritted his teeth.
Riiing!
At that moment, John's phone rang.
He checked the screen—Anton.
Click. He answered and turned on speakerphone.
"Sorry, sorry!" Anton's voice rang out across the White House conference room. "I was in the shower. What's going on? I saw, like, a hundred missed calls…"
"Anton!"
John Koehler didn't know whether to believe him. In all honesty, he was sure Anton had been deliberately avoiding the calls.
But he didn't show his suspicion. Instead, he spoke calmly, firmly.
"We need the Justice League's help. The situation in Washington is spiraling out of control. Special Forces HQ—Steve Rogers and Tony Stark are at each other's throats. We need your team to intervene."
"…Is this an order, or a request?" Anton asked, casually raising an eyebrow—even though they couldn't see it.
"It's a request."
John paused for a moment.
"This time… we owe you one."
"Favors are unnecessary," Anton said with a faint smile.
"I just hope you understand—the Justice League is a group of superheroes with conscience and a sense of justice. We are a self-organized alliance, not a blade in anyone's hand. Any attempt to control the Justice League through backdoor means… is pointless."
Inside the White House, silence fell.
Everyone present understood what Anton was implying.
And just as clearly, this confirmed something else: Anton had not been in the shower. He had deliberately ignored their calls and allowed the situation to escalate.
Now, with Tony and captain having completely fallen out, Anton—or rather, the Justice League—was preparing to step in.
"Batman…" John Koehler sighed inwardly. That bat in the shadows—always hidden, rarely seen—was what he feared most.
Was this all part of your plan?
He remembered how, back in the Washington conflict, Anton had handed over the captured Winter Soldier to the military—and told them Bucky's true identity.
At the time, John had thought the Justice League was simply being transparent. He hadn't realized that Bucky was a time bomb, left in military hands to detonate when the moment came.
Of course, if the military hadn't tried to play political games, that bomb might've stayed buried forever.
And in that case—no one would have had the right to complain.
From both John's and Anton's perspectives, neither had done anything wrong.
"We'll keep everything you said in mind," John said at last, his gaze drifting to the screen before him. The battle between Tony and Steve was about to erupt—and his anxiety was growing.
"But… could you ask the Justice League to speed things up? If this continues, the military will completely lose face. The situation could spiral out of control."
His tone was courteous—almost pleading.
Anton gave a calm nod. "Don't worry. I'm sure Batman and the others have already received the intel. They should be en route by now."
John finally exhaled in relief.
If Anton was stepping in, there was hope. This mess might still be contained.
Beep—beep.
Anton hung up.
John looked around the room and sighed. "I told you all before—not to try playing games with the Justice League."
"Now, maybe ask yourselves—who's really been outplayed in all this?"
"Who's the real winner?"
That question left everyone speechless.
"Batman…" the president muttered, voice heavy with frustration. "What kind of Justice League is this…?"
Special Forces Headquarters.
The tension between Tony and Steve had reached a breaking point.
The final confrontation was moments away.
Everyone present could feel it—this wasn't just a fight. It was a war between two men who had once stood side by side.
Tony, still seething with rage, clearly had no intention of holding back.
And Steve—still reeling from the brutal death of Bucky, his oldest friend—was in no emotional state to fight clearly.
He had watched his long-lost comrade die right in front of him—his body reduced to nothing but scorched, unrecognizable flesh.
The grief and fury in his heart had taken over completely.
And now, the only thing that remained… was battle.
This kind of miserable death was unacceptable to the captain .
Boom!!
He stomped the ground.
The ground cracked beneath him—shattered earth, flying gravel, and clouds of dust all bore witness to the raw power unleashed by the captain 's fury.
Tony's expression didn't change. He calmly met Steve's charge.
Boom!!
His metal fist collided with Steve's shield once again.
At the same time, Steve's free fist struck Tony squarely in the chest.
Clang!!
A dull metallic thud rang out.
Even with the armor, Tony staggered back, a trickle of blood escaping his lips. That punch had landed hard.
But Tony wasn't backing down.
Boom!
Jets of compressed air erupted from his back, stabilizing his body mid-stagger. He surged forward again, meeting Steve head-on, using the full force of his metal suit to try and overpower him.
Blow after blow was exchanged—neither man willing to yield.
Both were ablaze with rage.
Steve had just watched an old friend die in front of him—his body unrecognizable, reduced to ashes.
Tony, though calmer now, still burned with fury deep inside.
Two men, consumed by grief and anger, collided like a meteor and a mountain—explosive and devastating.
There would be no holding back.
The fight had become personal—no longer about justice, or sides, or politics.
This was war.
A fight to the death.
"Damn it…" Hawke muttered, face grim. "If this continues, there'll be no way to stop it."
He knew the truth.
Bucky mattered—but not nearly as much as either the captain or Tony.
Since World War II, Steve Rogers had symbolized the American spirit.
He was the face of heroism—of military pride.
If his reputation were stained with scandal, it would be like slapping the United States in the face. A global embarrassment.
America's image, both at home and abroad, would take a serious blow.
Tony, on the other hand, wasn't just the richest man in the country or the largest shareholder of Stark Industries.
More importantly, he was a genius.
A man whose mind was worth more than his entire fortune.
The military coveted his intellect—desperately.
They had nearly succeeded in pulling Tony into their fold years ago.
But everything changed after his kidnapping—when he built the first Iron Man suit and shut down Stark Industries' weapons division. From then on, he drifted from the military's grasp.
Yet that only made them want him more.
Tony had created something unprecedented: a suit of armor—essentially a one-man, miniature mech.
If the military could mass-produce such suits, the U.S. would become an unstoppable force.
Wars wouldn't even be necessary.
Deterrence alone would be enough.
And with that kind of power, the United States could remain the world's sole superpower for the next 50 to 100 years.
That's why Tony was so important to them.
And Tony knew it.
Even though he had no desire to turn his technology into weapons of war, under pressure, he eventually handed over a suit of armor to the military.
That suit now belonged to War Machine—Rhodey, a U.S. brigadier general.
So yes, Bucky mattered—but in the grand scheme of politics and power, he wasn't in the same league as Steve or Tony.
The military had only wanted to protect Bucky to secure Steve's loyalty—to gain another edge.
But once Tony found out…
His reaction was swift, brutal, and calculated.
He stormed Washington, driven not just by anger—but by a need to crush every false alliance and expose every betrayal.
From the very beginning, the military never truly discussed how to punish Tony Stark.
Because everyone knew—even if they wanted to punish him, they couldn't.
They couldn't kill him.
They couldn't afford to.
If Tony were willing to fully surrender the technology behind his armor, they would've gladly revived Bucky just so Tony could kill him again.
Now, after seeing the full might of Tony's Iron Man soldier corps during this conflict, the military was more ecstatic than ever.
Bucky's death?
Completely forgotten.
Even the officials inside the White House had moved on.
Their sole concern now was de-escalation—how to stop the fight between Steve and Tony, stabilize the two men, and prevent the situation from spiraling out of control.
After all, Bucky's death had been anticipated by the military from the start.
But a full-blown conflict between the captain and Iron Man?
That was not part of the plan.
Both of them had to live.
If either of them died, the fallout would be catastrophic—politically, militarily, and symbolically.
Neither the government nor the military could afford that risk.
That was why everyone in the White House had been sweating bullets when John Keller couldn't reach Anton or the Justice League.
A fight between Tony and Steve… was unacceptable.
The Justice League had to intervene, before things reached the point of no return.
Boom!!
The battle intensified.
Even those who knew nothing about combat could see it—Tony and Steve were trying to kill each other.
Two former allies.
Now locked in a death match.
"If this keeps up, the special forces are done for," Hawke muttered, his expression darker than ever.
"Why hasn't the government stepped in? Can't anyone stop them?"
"Where the hell is the Justice League?"
He cursed under his breath, heart pounding.
More than forty Iron Man soldiers surrounded them and the special forces like a steel wall. There was no way out.
No way to interfere.
Nothing they could do.
Unless someone powerful enough to take on that entire army appeared...
There was only one hope.
The Justice League.
But still, they hadn't shown up.
It had to be a failure in decision-making—another screw-up by the government and the military.
And now the special forces were being left to take the blame.
Sure, they could try contacting the Justice League through Anton—but all communications, calls, and signals had been jammed by the Iron Man soldier corps' twin AIs: J.A.R.V.I.S. and Ultron.
They were cut off.
Totally isolated.
All they could do was wait.
"Damn it…"
"Those idiot politicians are only good at fighting each other!"
Just as Hawke was inwardly raging at the White House—
A strange purple glow lit up the sky above them.
"Sir," came J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice in Tony's earpiece, "abnormal energy fluctuations detected. Space rupture imminent. A spatial channel is forming."
"Unable to stop it."
"Sir, please exercise caution!"
Tony's expression darkened behind his helmet. He knew immediately what was happening.
On Earth, there was only one organization capable of executing space transmission technology like this.
No competition.
The Justice League.
Tony struck the captain with a sudden, forceful punch, creating space between them, then rose into the air—his eyes locked on the swirl of purple light.
Steve, seeing Tony's abrupt reaction, turned to look as well.
Then…
A shadow emerged from the rift.
A figure, cloaked in darkness, stepped into the light.
Tony and Steve stared—both murmuring the same name at once.
"Batman."
…
patreon.com/Vks_sh