The sharp crackle of electricity filled the room, the sound constant and aggressive as it tore through flesh and nerves alike. Captain Steve lay rigid on the table, his body twitching under the relentless assault as the current forced its way deep into him, drilling past skin and muscle like a heated blade. It felt as if his insides were being ripped open, as though something unseen had hooked into his guts and was slowly dragging them out piece by piece. The pain was raw, invasive, and almost impossible to comprehend.
Even so, he refused to open his eyes. He clamped down on his instincts, holding onto the one thought that mattered—he couldn't wake up before Director Nick did. If he gave in now, if he reacted first, then whatever dignity he had left would be completely gone. That alone was enough to keep him locked in place, teeth grinding as he forced himself to endure.
The attending physician frowned as he watched the readings, confusion creeping across his face. By all accounts, the current had already reached levels that would have broken a normal person several times over. Yet Steve lay there, unmoving, as if nothing was happening at all. The lack of response didn't make sense.
He slapped his forehead suddenly, realization dawning. "Of course… he's a superhero." His tone shifted, now tinged with excitement. "Enhanced physique, higher endurance… that explains it."
Turning to the agent beside him, he didn't hesitate. "Increase the current."
Moments later, the machine hummed louder as additional wires were secured and the output surged. The sound intensified, the air itself seeming to vibrate as electricity flooded the system at a far higher load.
The physician's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "This is it. We're bringing Captain Steve back."
The current surged again, violent and unforgiving, coursing through Steve's body like a living thing. The hair on his chest burned black under the heat, the smell of charred flesh faint but unmistakable. This wasn't just pain anymore—it was something deeper, something that clawed at the very core of his body.
Even someone like him, a super soldier forged through extreme conditioning, was beginning to reach his limit.
Inside his mind, he clung desperately to a single name. Hawkeye.
They were supposed to be his teammates, his allies, the people who had his back. And yet here he was, strapped down while a group of overzealous doctors treated him like some kind of experiment. Didn't anyone think to step in? Didn't anyone think to stop this before it went too far?
If this continued, he was certain of one thing—they would kill him.
"Push it further," the physician ordered again, his voice carrying a manic edge now. "Maximum output."
This time, the machine roared to life at two hundred percent overload. The current became overwhelming, no longer just something passing through him but something that seemed to tear him apart from within. Steve's muscles spasmed uncontrollably, his body arching as the sensation of being pierced clean through consumed him.
And finally, he broke.
His eyes snapped open, pupils wide as he stared straight ahead, dragged back into consciousness by sheer force. The world rushed in all at once, blurred shapes sharpening into clarity as voices filled his ears.
"Oh my god, it worked. Captain Steve's awake!"
"That modified stun gun is incredible. Our method was correct!"
Their excitement rang hollow against the chaos still echoing in his body. But something else cut through the moment—something far more immediate and humiliating.
A smell.
A very distinct smell.
"I… I peed."
The realization hit like a second blow, heavier than any physical pain. Someone else confirmed it aloud, their tone completely lacking discretion.
"Captain Steve lost control of his bladder."
Their chatter didn't stop. If anything, it grew louder, more animated, as if they had just witnessed some fascinating medical breakthrough rather than a deeply embarrassing moment.
For Steve, it felt like a blade driven straight into his chest.
Even a superhero had limits, and this… this was something else entirely. The combination of physical agony and absolute humiliation was enough to make his vision darken again, his consciousness teetering on the edge.
Before he could slip away, a low groan drew his attention from across the room.
Turning his head, he saw Director Nick stirring on a nearby makeshift hospital bed. Compared to Steve, his condition was far worse, his injuries severe enough to be obvious even at a glance. The attending physician approached him quickly, his tone shifting back into professional concern.
"Director Nick, your lower body has sustained critical damage. While your healing ability is impressive, your urinary system has been completely destroyed. A transplant will be necessary for proper recovery."
Steve sucked in a sharp breath at that, the words hitting him harder than expected. He had known the injuries were serious, but hearing it laid out so bluntly still caught him off guard.
He looked at Nick with something close to sympathy, a quiet understanding passing between them. They were both victims of the same disaster, bound by circumstance in a way that went beyond rank or authority.
Nick, however, seemed far less affected than expected. He took a slow breath, his expression calm as he reached up to stroke his chin.
"It's fine," he said evenly. "I don't need it anymore anyway."
The room fell into a strange silence for a brief moment before a pair of nurses inhaled sharply, their reactions anything but subtle. The kind of information they had just heard felt… inappropriate, like something they weren't supposed to know.
Steve blinked, stunned.
For someone his age, experience had taught him a lot, but this was still unexpected. He had assumed that beneath the composed exterior, Nick Fury was a man like any other. Now, though, that assumption felt completely off.
A quiet thought surfaced in his mind, unfiltered and blunt.
Poor Director Nick… so that part of his life was already over.
Nick seemed to notice the shift in atmosphere, the subtle glances and barely contained curiosity. A faint discomfort crossed his face before he closed his eyes, choosing to ignore it all and rest instead.
The moment didn't last long.
The iron door creaked open with a harsh metallic sound, breaking the fragile stillness. A familiar figure stepped inside, his posture relaxed, his expression carrying a self-satisfied edge that immediately drew attention.
Tony Stark.
He took one look at the state of the two men and didn't hesitate, walking straight over as if he had just entered a casual meeting rather than a makeshift recovery room. With a casual pat on each of their shoulders, he spoke with a grin that bordered on insulting.
"Another loss, huh? You guys are really setting records today. At this rate, you might as well rebrand yourselves as the Get-Beat Alliance."
The words landed like a spark in dry grass.
It wasn't just Steve and Nick who reacted. The surrounding agents stiffened, their expressions darkening as anger flared. Some even took a step forward, clearly on the verge of intervening.
Steve's hand slammed against the edge of the bed, his body tensing as he nearly forced himself upright. In his eyes, Tony wasn't just another person—he was a comrade. Someone who should have understood the situation, not mocked it.
This wasn't just inappropriate. It crossed a line.
Nick, on the other hand, remained composed. He lifted his gaze toward Tony, his expression unreadable as he spoke.
"So, you've been brought in." His tone was measured, almost neutral. "As the famous Iron Man, I assume you have a way to handle this situation?"
It wasn't a direct challenge, but it carried weight. If Tony truly believed in his own reputation, then this was where he proved it.
Tony paused for a fraction of a second before his smile widened, confidence returning in full force.
"Of course," he said easily. "I even ditched a pool party to come deal with this mess. If we can't handle one rogue Spider, then saving the world might be a bit out of our league."
As he spoke, he laid out the basics of his plan. New York was already being locked down, surveillance systems pushed to their limits as satellite tracking and digital monitoring worked together. With Jarvis running a full-scale search across every available network, there was no way someone could stay hidden for long.
"As long as he's still in the city," Tony added, "we'll find him."
Nick leaned back slightly, considering that before asking, "How long?"
"Twenty-four hours," Tony replied without hesitation.
To him, this wasn't complicated. No matter how strong Spider-Man was, he was still just one person. Against a system that controlled information itself, hiding was impossible.
Steve listened, his expression tightening.
He had seen enough to know that this wasn't going to be that simple. The one they were dealing with wasn't just strong—he was careful, deliberate. The kind of person who could slip into S.H.I.E.L.D. undetected wasn't someone who would be caught easily.
"Tony… I don't think your plan will work," he said finally.
Tony's gaze dropped to him immediately, sharp and dismissive.
"You? A guy who spent over seventy years frozen, suddenly thinks he knows better?" His tone carried open disdain. "What exactly makes you think you can question me?"
Steve didn't argue further. He simply looked away, his attention drifting toward the dark window, his voice quiet but firm.
"Reality will prove who's right."
Outside, the night stretched deep and heavy over the city.
In Hell's Kitchen, the aftermath of violence spread like a ripple through the streets, fear and chaos seeping into every corner of the underworld. The echoes of what had happened refused to fade, whispered from one group to another as stories began to take shape.
Some spoke of it with fear.
Others… with awe.
—That was a demon straight out of hell!!!
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