Chapter 149: You Think You're the Only Superhero?

In just three hours, Fitz copied all of Whitehall's memories regarding his role as a Hydra sleeper agent onto another storage drive.

Two hours later, a Quinjet landed outside the laboratory. Nick Fury arrived in person, flatly rejecting old Wang's invitation to stay for a meal, and clutched the storage drive as he walked out, even swiping two virtual helmets along the way.

As soon as he boarded the aircraft, Fury impatiently put on a helmet and began browsing.

The more he watched, the more shocked and solemn he became.

The extent of Hydra's infiltration into S.H.I.E.L.D. astonished him. He never expected the mastermind to be Dr. Arnim Zola, an epoch-making scientific giant who had long since integrated himself into S.H.I.E.L.D., a great figure comparable to Dr. Abraham Erskine and Howard Stark.

With things standing thus, the entire S.H.I.E.L.D. was completely transparent in Hydra's eyes. No wonder they had developed so well.

When images of Pierce appeared in the memories, Fury almost bit through his thick black lips. His heart hammered against his ribs, and even his breathing grew heavy.

"It's actually him!"

His own old superior and most trusted friend turned out to be Hydra's biggest deep-cover agent. This left Fury deeply unsettled, doubting reality itself.

I treat you as a friend, yet you want to screw me over?

This was terrifying!

It meant that the entire S.H.I.E.L.D. had likely long become a stronghold for Hydra. Who on earth knew how many people could still be trusted?

He had thought that obtaining the intelligence would make it easy to uproot Hydra completely, but now it seemed he had been far too young and naive.

If he truly wanted to eliminate everyone belonging to Hydra, probably more than half of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s upper and middle management would have to die.

With even Pierce being a member of Hydra, everything in S.H.I.E.L.D.—aside from the secret bases he had built in secret and the covert agents he had cultivated—belonged to Hydra. Without external assistance, wiping out Hydra was simply impossible.

The result of a direct confrontation would likely be the utter destruction of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaving not even a name behind.

Even taking matters into his own hands to assassinate Pierce in the shadows would be useless; Hydra had multiple heads and was utterly unfazed.

"I can only ask for outside help."

At that moment, Fury was immensely grateful that he had not taken overly aggressive measures against Master Wang back then and had instead latched onto such a thick and sturdy pillar of support.

"The Immortal Iron Fist, Quake, Ghost Rider, Daredevil, Stick, Black Sky, Black Widow, Hawkeye... and Tony!"

Fury calculated silently. With these people helping, his chances of winning still existed, and they were not small.

As for how heavy the price would be?

He only hoped S.H.I.E.L.D. would not perish because of this.

Although he had obtained crucial intelligence, Fury had no intention of acting rashly.

He needed to plan carefully and minimize losses as much as possible.

After pondering for a moment, he took off the helmet and made a phone call.

...

...

Fury's efficiency was extremely high.

A few days later, three Quinjets flew to the Azeroth Laboratory and landed in the centrally prepared grand plaza.

The pilots were covert agents, and the entire matter was known to only a very few people—all of them Fury's most trusted confidants.

"They're all retired older models, far inferior to the ones currently in service." With just a casual glance, Fitz made his judgment.

Old Wang smiled, having anticipated this.

Actually, Fury couldn't be blamed.

After all, Quinjets were S.H.I.E.L.D.'s primary tactical aircraft, and they were expensive. The movements of any single one could easily draw the attention of interested parties, such as Pierce—especially the ones currently in active service.

By comparison, retired older models didn't attract much attention. Given Fury's capabilities, smuggling out three of them wasn't a major issue.

"Check them," old Wang instructed.

Fitz quickly complied and soon gave his verdict.

"Boss, these three aircraft lack visual stealth devices, their power systems are too outdated, their weapons systems have been completely stripped away, and every other aspect is long obsolete. However, their build quality is still quite decent. They're older but well-maintained, so they'll work," Fitz said.

Old Wang tapped the fuselage and asked, "Everything that should be there needs to be there... Can you manage it?"

"Uh... probably not."

Fitz wore a troubled expression, looking somewhat aggrieved. "Boss, I'm just a recent graduate from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, having only attended for a year. I'm okay at making small gadgets, but large military aircraft involving so many complex systems are beyond me. I don't know the first thing about visual stealth technology alone, unless you give me a few months to study properly..."

A man could never admit he couldn't do something; even if he couldn't, he had to try... Old Wang nodded. "I'll find someone to help you."

He picked up the phone and dialed.

...

...

Tony was currently enjoying the thrill of being a superhero.

After replacing his old model with a new Arc Reactor, his armor had been upgraded from the Mark III to the Mark VI. Greater power brought faster speed and more functions, resulting in overall stronger combat capability.

Although he had gained complete control of Stark Industries, owning over 50% of the shares—making him a true dictator of the company—and had completely shut down the weapons division, the weapons he had previously sold to terrorist organizations and local warlords were still everywhere.

What he spent his days busy doing now was having Jarvis track the orders, locate the lairs of those terrorist organizations, and then fly over in his armor to wipe them out.

This feeling was wonderful, carrying the rush of "I am protecting the world single-handedly" and "I am the world's policeman," which felt utterly fantastic to the self-centered playboy.

"Incoming call, Master Wang," Jarvis's voice sounded.

"Master Wang is looking for me?"

Tony was slightly startled and quickly said, "Put it through."

The call connected. Before old Wang could speak, Tony said in an exaggerated tone, "Master Wang, do you know what I'm doing? I'm joyriding at an altitude of twenty thousand meters!"

Even that was worth bragging about; Tony, you're becoming less and less ambitious... Old Wang decided to deal the playboy a heavy blow, saying indifferently, "You've been running around showing off everywhere lately. You don't really think nobody knows, do you? S.H.I.E.L.D. and the U.S. military have both set their sights on you. It won't be long before you have to take a trip to Washington; the Senate Armed Services Committee is waiting for you."

"I won't admit to it, Master Wang."

Tony shrugged. "Catch me first if you have the ability; America is a country ruled by law. Besides, my armor isn't a weapon, it's just... uh... a high-tech prosthetic limb, the kind that helps disabled people."

"The U.S. military might care about your status, but S.H.I.E.L.D. certainly won't. Who knows, one day when you get home, an oversized Nick Fury might be waiting for you."

Old Wang offered a casual reminder, then asked, "Interested in virtual technology far superior to Jarvis?"

"Not interested." Tony refused decisively, thinking to himself, Go ahead and try to fool me, that's impossible.

Jarvis was ten or even twenty years ahead of the entire world. Could there really be a computer genius more brilliant than "Tony Stark"?

"Then what about Quinjets?" old Wang asked again.

Quinjets?

Tony raised an eyebrow. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s primary tactical aircraft?"

"Right here in San Juan, at my laboratory," old Wang said. "I'll be waiting for you."

"Sir, remaining energy is insufficient to support a long-distance flight exceeding ten thousand kilometers," Jarvis stated.

"Fine, next time I need to carry an extra Arc Reactor," Tony sighed helplessly. "I'll head home first, I'll be there in two hours."

He quickly returned to his villa, stripped off the armor, and figured he still had time for a hot shower.

However, the moment he stepped through the door, a low, magnetic voice rang out.

"Joyriding at an altitude of twenty thousand meters is pretty cool, isn't it?"

"Did you really think you were the only superhero?"

"Mr. Stark, there are plenty of people like you."

Tony rubbed his eyes, only then noticing a figure clad in a black trench coat—featuring an oversized bald, one-eyed face—standing with his back to him, seamlessly blending into the evening shadows.

No wonder he hadn't noticed him earlier.