Chapter 59

A pleasant surprise I found while working with the Masters of the Mystic Arts was just how open they were to modern conveniences.

You’d think a thousand-year-old organization would be painfully traditional, and to be fair, they were in some ways. Ancient halls, old customs, and robes that apparently hadn’t changed much in the last few hundred years.

Thankfully, shunning anything invented after the medieval period wasn’t one of those traditions.

Modern appliances had been quietly slipped into the ancient halls wherever they could fit. They were usually tucked out of sight to preserve the whole mystical-temple vibe, but not having to deal with ancient plumbing or a complete lack of Wi-Fi was a real joy.

They even had a little movie room you could reserve.

So naturally, that was exactly what we did.

Me and Anna spent an entire day watching shitty old eighties movies while pigging out on popcorn. After everything that had happened lately, getting to sit around and do absolutely nothing important was a nice change of pace.

I’d half expected something insane to interrupt us halfway through. A HYDRA attack, a demon crawling out of the television, maybe Wong kicking down the door because reality was collapsing again.

Instead, nothing happened.

The day passed completely uneventfully.

Still, as much as I would've loved to keep sitting around and relaxing, the rest of the world wasn’t going to do the same. Better to make sure I was ready for whatever came next.

Which was how I ended up standing in one of the New York Sanctum’s surprisingly modern basements the next morning.

I pulled out the Empty Key and pressed it against the air.

A portal unfolded in front of me, rapidly expanding until it nearly touched the ceiling.

“Whoa.” Anna walked closer and peeked through into the pocket dimension. “You weren’t kidding when you said this place was huge.”

“Yep. A hundred kilometers in every direction.”

I stepped through after her.

Even the titanic chunks of flesh I’d dumped inside were barely visible in the distance. Beneath our feet, the crystal-clear glass floor stretched endlessly outward, giving the otherwise empty dimension a strangely beautiful appearance.

I hadn’t really gotten the chance to test the place properly before.

So I pulled out my lightsaber and slashed it across the floor.

Nothing.

Not even a scratch.

“Huh.” Anna glanced at me, then raised one leg high, faint energy beginning to glow around it before she brought her heel crashing down against the glass.

The impact echoed across the empty dimension.

Still nothing.

I raised an eyebrow. “Was that Chi?”

“Yep!” Anna shot me a smug grin. “Figured it out after copying some of those ninjas and a few Chaste martial artists. Took me a while, but I managed to work out the basics. Teacher said something about my powers already being tied to life force making it easier.”

“Neat.” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “Maybe we should give the real Iron Fist a call and show him who actually deserves the title.”

Anna snorted but refused to rise to the bait.

“So what’s the plan here?”

“Well…” I rolled my shoulders, loosening myself up. “We relaxed yesterday, so I figured a good workout was in order. Plus, I’ve never really gotten the chance to push myself to the limit when it comes to my speed.”

Anna stared at the endless empty space around us before looking back at me.

“You’re using a pocket dimension as a running track?”

“Don’t take all the mystique out of it.” I stretched my arms over my head. “I’m cultivating my zen, brahhh.”

“Suuure.” Anna shook her head, already smiling. “Want me to time you then, sugar?”

“Hell yeah.” I took a deep breath, my lungs eagerly pulling in the air. Every breath felt perfect, almost unnaturally so, as energy seemed to crackle through me.

“Readyyy… Set…” Anna raised her hand. “Go!”

My feet slammed into the ground as I shot straight across the glass floor. It felt like the ground simply disappeared beneath my feet as I kept going and going, each stride carrying me farther than the last.

A quick glance back showed the exit had already vanished into the distance.

And yet, I wasn’t even slightly winded.

I simply grinned and enjoyed the wind rushing past as I sped away.

Life was fucking great!

—

Life was a wretched thing.

Strucker scowled down at the glass in his hand. A fine, aged Asbach Uralt dating all the way back to the Second World War. He had been saving the vintage for the day HYDRA finally took its true place in the world, with him standing as one of its rightful stewards.

Now?

A sharp ringing filled his office.

Grinding his teeth, Strucker finished the rest of his drink in a single gulp. An utter waste of such a fine vintage, but at the moment, he found himself caring very little.

He grabbed the remote from his desk and accepted the call.

The television mounted against his office wall flickered to life, revealing three familiar faces.

Alexander Pierce. Daniel Whitehall. Arnim Zola.

Including himself, it would not be inaccurate to call them the core leadership of HYDRA in the modern age.

“It seems you finally deigned to join us.” Alexander scoffed. “Tardiness and incompetence. A wonder you ever became a head.”

Baron Strucker ground his teeth.

A mere few days ago, Alexander would not have dared speak to him like that.

A degree of tacit respect was expected among the highest branches of HYDRA. There were squabbles, certainly. Rivalries, disagreements, occasional threats. But nothing so crass as open disrespect.

The heads of old had ensured they remained united.

Yet now, Whitehall and Zola merely remained silent.

Or perhaps worse, they did not consider Alexander’s words a breach of etiquette at all.

“Gideon will be unable to attend. He is currently overseeing the contract with the Skrulls.” Zola’s digitized face shifted across the screen. “Since the rest of us are here, let us discuss the… incident, and what will happen moving forward.”

His glowing eyes settled on Strucker.

“Have you discovered anything further regarding what happened to the Siberian facility, Baron Strucker?”

“...No.” The word felt like acid on his tongue. “The remnants of the facility were utterly destroyed. Any surviving footage was corrupted or erased, and there was little left to recover beyond corpses.” Strucker’s jaw tightened. “None of the prototypes gestating within the facility were found.”

“A terrible tragedy,” Whitehall chimed in. “Yet perhaps not everything is lost. I still possess several minor samples you sent me. If you were to provide your research, perhaps something could still be salvaged.”

Strucker was silent for a moment.

“…All of the computers were purged, and no physical notes remained.”

Even through the screen, Strucker could practically feel the anger radiating from his fellow heads.

There had been considerable promise in the project. His progress had more than compensated for the escape of his previous subjects, enough that even the others had been forced to acknowledge the value of his work.

And now it was all gone.

Most of his subordinates were dead. The research had vanished with them, and even Doctor List—the expert overseeing the project—had disappeared so completely that they had not been able to recover his corpse.

“This does not bode well for our plans.” Zola’s green digital visage flickered slightly. “An unseen enemy capable of striking at us without warning cannot be tolerated. New projects must be pushed forward if we do not wish to suffer another failure.”

“I may have several ideas that could benefit from our wayward allies.” Whitehall folded his hands together. “These Skrulls are truly fascinating creatures, and I believe their biology could complement some of my own works rather nicely.” He paused. “Although the costs may become… considerable.”

“More funds will be allocated to you,” Zola replied.

Alexander leaned back slightly, his expression tightening.

“Then shall I push forward the motion we discussed regarding Wakanda?” His fingers tapped slowly against the arm of his chair. “Our original hope was to quietly seize their technology and this vibranium of theirs. If we force Wakanda onto the public stage, that approach may no longer be possible.”

“Do it,” Zola replied. “If we can’t claim it through subterfuge, then politics and public pressure shall do. We have suffered greatly, but we will recover from this.”

“Doctor Zola, I propose–”

“Baron Strucker.” Zola’s voice cut him off, the digital distortion growing harsher with his anger. “For the sake of your past contributions, you were permitted to explain yourself, but… incompetence cannot be allowed to continue.” His digitized face flickered across the screen. “I have spoken with the other Heads, and we agree. We believe it would be best if you stepped down.”

Strucker felt his chest burn as the words he had feared were finally spoken aloud.

His gaze shifted toward Alexander, then Whitehall.

Neither man offered so much as a word in his defense.

“…I understand.”

“Good. Then—”

More platitudes followed, but Strucker stopped listening.

He remained silent for the rest of the meeting, answering only when necessary. Then, the instant the screen finally went dark, his fist slammed into the desk hard enough to rattle the empty glass.

How dare they?

He was Baron von Strucker.

Those blind, ungrateful fools. After everything he had accomplished for HYDRA, they thought they could simply cast him aside the moment he suffered a setback?

Strucker gritted his teeth.

He would show them.

His hand slipped into his coat, pulling out the ornate card he had received.

Hellfire Club.

Strucker let out a deep breath as he left his office.

As much as he loathed to accept it, he had expected those old fools to do this. 

Strucker, however, was not a man who wallowed in his emotions. 

As he strode through the halls of his mansion, he scowled at the thought of having to rely on what was little more than a social club for the wealthy.

Still, it would have to do.

Pushing open the door to the sitting room, Strucker inclined his head toward his guest.

“My apologies for the delay. I was held up by an important meeting.”

A stunning blonde woman sat waiting for him in a pristine white dress. She turned at his entrance and offered him a radiant smile.

“No worries.” She gave a soft chuckle. “Nothing too troublesome, I hope?”

“Merely old fools.” Strucker scoffed as he took the seat across from her.

“Really…” Her smile sharpened just slightly. “Tell me all about it.”

“Of course.” Strucker nodded. “Ms. Frost.”

***

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