Berlin, 3:17 a.m.
Rain fell in sheets, cloaking the city in a cold shroud. The streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional tram or passing patrol. Lights flickered in narrow alleys. Somewhere in the distance, a siren howled—and then nothing. It was the kind of silence that didn't comfort. The kind that whispered something had already begun.
Inside an abandoned printing factory on the outskirts of the city, the air buzzed with the hum of servers. Machines that should have been long dead flickered back to life, one after the other. A wall of monitors lit the room in a sickly green glow. Cables snaked across the floor like vines, connecting processors and cracked consoles repurposed into a Frankenstein mainframe. An artificial chill lingered in the air, the kind born not of winter, but of machines awakening.
At the center of the room, a man sat hunched over a terminal.
Baron Wolfgang von Strucker.
His face was older, lined with years of exile and survival, but his eyes still burned with purpose. He tapped commands with expert precision, his one good eye reflecting strings of encrypted data. The other socket glowed faintly beneath his eyepatch—an early cybernetic implant from an age when such things were still considered science fiction.
A window opened on the main screen—live surveillance footage from the SHIELD European black site. The artifact pulsed gently, unaware—or uncaring—that it was being watched. Readouts scrolled by: energy spikes, quantum distortions, biometric flares.
He smiled.
"The artifact is responding," he whispered, more to himself than the room. "Soon, we will open new doors. New weapons. New futures."
A figure stepped from the shadows behind him—female, silent, with silver hair and eyes that shimmered with faint lightning. She stood like a statue, tension coiled in her stance.
"Does he know?" she asked.
Strucker didn't look up. "Fury suspects. But they're playing catch-up. As always."
"What of the Shadow?"
Strucker's smile faded slightly.
"He's a variable. But one we've begun to account for."
He clicked a key, and the screen flickered to an overhead map of Europe. Red nodes glowed faintly—Berlin, Vienna, Tunisia, and one deep under the Arctic Circle. The last one pulsed irregularly, as if something dormant was stirring.
Budapest.
Alexander leaned over a disassembled drone on the table. The hardware was Chitauri in design, but the modifications were unmistakably human. Every component was rearranged with intention. Added heat shields. A repurposed Stark capacitor. Even a compartment that once carried something—removed now, empty.
He held up a data core, twisting it in the candlelight as Vasili finished decrypting the last fragments of its memory logs.
"Coordinates to Tunisia," Vasili confirmed. "Same location we tagged earlier."
Alexander nodded. "And the chatter?"
"HYDRA signature. They're not hiding anymore. They want someone to notice."
Alexander set the core down slowly. "That's because someone already has."
He turned toward the map, eyes scanning the web of red pins that now connected Berlin, Tunisia, and three other nodes spread across Eastern Europe. The pattern was no longer random. It was a net.
Noctis emerged beside him. "We've intercepted another frequency. Muted, encrypted. Same pulse pattern as the artifact."
Alexander looked up. "Location?"
"Vienna."
He picked up his cloak, fastening it with quiet resolve. "Then we move at dawn."
Vasili cocked his head. "You expect a welcome party?"
Alexander's voice was a whisper. "I expect a message."
At the Triskelion, Maria Hill entered Fury's office with urgency. She handed him a tablet. "Another blacksite breach. Someone accessed the artifact's pulse logs—externally."
Fury took the tablet, his expression darkening. "Coordinates?"
"Berlin."
He stood slowly, eye narrowing. "Strucker."
Hill frowned. "You think he survived?"
Fury didn't answer. He walked to the window overlooking the Potomac, his silence carrying more weight than any confirmation.
"Get Romanoff and Barton," he said finally. "Tell them they're going dark."
Hill hesitated. "And the Shadow Monarch?"
Fury's gaze hardened. "Not yet. Let's see who moves first."
He stared out the window, jaw tight. Deep inside, he already knew—Alexander would move faster than all of them.
Vienna.
Alexander and Vasili moved through the shadows of a silent research compound, long since decommissioned. Its walls were cracked, windows shattered, but the power lines hummed beneath their feet. Every door was sealed, every file erased. Yet the faint scent of ozone and oil told another story.
Signs of life lingered—fresh bootprints in dust, clean power conduits, faint heat signatures seeping from ventilation grates. Someone had been here. Someone was still here.
"Trap?" Vasili asked, whispering low.
"Invitation," Alexander replied.
Noctis phased through the nearest wall, returning seconds later. "Four hostiles, northwest hall. Armed. Watching us."
Alexander drew a short blade from his belt. The edge shimmered with dark energy. "Let them come."
The moment the words left his mouth, gunfire erupted.
Shadows exploded around him, absorbing bullets mid-air. Vasili rolled into cover and returned fire with precision, picking off one of the attackers before he could reposition. Alexander moved like a storm—silent, overwhelming. The first attacker never saw the blade coming. The second was dragged into the shadows by a tendril that hissed his name.
A third tried to run.
He didn't make it far.
The fourth panicked, pulling a pin on a grenade. Alexander's shadow swallowed the blast before it could detonate.
In seconds, the hall fell silent again. Blood pooled across cracked tile. The only sound was the soft hum of failing lights.
A secure door creaked open deeper in the corridor.
Inside, a single monitor blinked.
A recorded message played.
Baron Strucker's face appeared, slightly distorted by static.
"If you're seeing this… then you're already too late."
The monitor exploded.
A concussive pulse knocked Alexander and Vasili off their feet. Smoke flooded the room, choking and thick. Walls shook. Ceiling tiles crashed down. A secondary shockwave rattled the compound.
Alexander pulled himself up slowly, shadows flickering like smoke around him.
"Status?" he coughed.
Vasili groaned, clutching his shoulder. "Still breathing. Whatever that was, it was designed to blind every sensor we had."
Alexander narrowed his eyes. "Not just sensors. It was a signal. He's activating something."
Above, in orbit, the satellite array linked to the artifact came online.
Its lens turned.
Toward Earth.
End of Chapter 86
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