Chapter 43-44-45

Chapter 43: Revelations

It was a muggy afternoon in late June when John found himself once again embroiled in a mystery that had his senses on high alert. In recent weeks, tensions with Strike Team Alpha had been growing, especially with its leader, Brock Rumlow, and his second-in-command, Jack Rollins. Something about their behavior didn't make sense, and now John was starting to get clues as to why.

He was in Fury's office after a routine operations review meeting. Fury, as usual, was behind his desk, analyzing reports, but John knew there was something different in the air. A sense that there was more being hidden.

"Fury, I know you told me to keep an eye on Alpha, and I confess I've noticed some strange things. But I think there's something bigger going on." John began, crossing his arms as he stared at the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Fury looked up from the report, his expression impassive.

"What are you suggesting, Hawke?" he asked, though the tone of his voice indicated that he already knew where John was going with this.

John took a deep breath before answering.

"Rumlow and Rollins… They're not just competitive. There's more to it. I've been watching their training sessions and even the way they conduct themselves during briefings. They act as if they're following an agenda of their own. As if they have other priorities besides their missions." John said, his eyes fixed on Fury, waiting for any sign that the director knew more than he was letting on.

Nick Fury was silent for a moment, as if considering his next words. Then he stood up and walked to the window of his office, looking out over the Potomac River, where the sun was beginning to set.

"You're right, Hawke. They are operating with an agenda of their own, and I'm not completely in the know." Fury finally said, turning to face John. "Alpha wasn't formed by me, at least not directly."

That revelation took John by surprise. He sat up straighter in his chair, his eyes sharper now.

"If it wasn't you, then who?" John asked, already intuiting the answer, but wanting to hear it from Fury's mouth.

Fury crossed his arms, his posture rigid.

"Secretary Alexander Pierce. He ordered the creation of Strike Team Alpha," Fury said bluntly.

John felt a shiver run down his spine. Alexander Pierce was an enigmatic figure, always shrouded in secrets, and John hadn't trusted him since their first meeting months ago, during a meeting of the World Security Council.

"Pierce..." John muttered, more to himself than to Fury. "That explains a lot. But why would he do that? Why create a separate team and not simply work with Omega?"

Fury walked back to his desk and sat down, picking up a small tablet-shaped device. He clicked on a few files before looking back at John.

"Pierce has his own interests, Hawke. He always has." It's no secret that he maintains a network of contacts and political alliances around the world. But for some reason, he's been more active in the last few months. Strike Team Alpha is part of it. He specifically asked for Rumlow to be the team's leader. — Fury explained.

"And you accepted that?" John asked, his voice thick with disbelief.

Fury took a deep breath, never losing his composure.

"It's not a matter of accepting, Hawke. What Pierce does, he does because he can. S.H.I.E.L.D. answers to the World Security Council, and Pierce is above all of us. He has the power to form teams and assign them as he sees fit. But that doesn't mean I'm not keeping an eye on them." — Fury replied, a sly glint in his eyes. — And now, so are you.

John was silent for a few moments, processing this information. Pierce's presence and his direct influence over Alpha was more disturbing than he had imagined. It meant that Rumlow's team was not fully accountable to the normal structure of S.H.I.E.L.D. And worse, it meant that their actions might be serving interests that went beyond global protection.

"Rumlow and Rollins… are they aware of this?" John asked, leaning forward.

"They know they answer to Pierce. But to what extent they understand what's really going on, I don't know," Fury replied, his voice lower now, indicating that even he didn't have all the answers.

John rose from his chair and began to pace the room, trying to connect the dots. Rumlow's hostile and competitive behavior, the way Strike Team Alpha seemed to operate with an attitude of superiority, and their insistence on keeping their distance from Omega. It was all starting to make sense.

"So, what's the next step?" — John finally asked, stopping near Fury's desk.

The director looked at him with his usual calculating expression.

"You keep doing what you do best. Lead Omega and carry out your missions. But keep your eyes open, Hawke. Pierce is not someone who acts without reason. If he's pulling Alpha's strings, it's because something bigger is at stake. And when that something reveals itself, you need to be prepared." — Fury said, his voice full of urgency.

John nodded. He knew Fury was right, but the idea of ​​Pierce being involved in all of this made him uncomfortable.

"Understood, Fury. I'll keep an eye on them," John replied, determined.

Before John left the room, Fury added one last observation.

"And, Hawke, if Pierce tries to contact you or your team directly, I want to know immediately." — Fury said, with a firm look that made it clear that the political game they were involved in was dangerous.

John left the office with his mind racing. Pierce's presence in the equation changed everything. As he walked through the halls of the Triskelion, he couldn't help but think back to the past few months. Rumlow and Rollins had been suspicious from the start, and now John knew why. They were playing a different game, and he was determined to find out what it was.

That night, he gathered his team in the base's mess hall. The Omega men were relaxed after a day of intense training, but the seriousness on John's face indicated that something important was coming.

"Guys, we need to talk," John began, pulling up a chair and sitting at the table with them. The men looked at him, attentive. "I found out something about Alpha. They weren't created by Fury. Secretary Pierce himself ordered their creation," he said, noting the looks of surprise and concern on his companions' faces.

"Pierce? Fury's boss?" one of the team asked incredulously.

John nodded.

"Yes. And that means Alpha may not be following the same path we are." — John explained, his voice grave.

The men exchanged serious glances, understanding the weight of the revelation. They trusted John, and if he said something was wrong, they believed him.

"What are we going to do?" another asked, always ready to act.

John looked at his men, those who had been by his side on countless missions. He knew they would do whatever was necessary.

"We continue our missions, but we keep an eye on Alpha. If anything suspicious appears, we report it directly to Fury. But for now, remain calm," John said, his voice firm but controlled.

He knew the next few weeks would be crucial. The relationship between Omega and Alpha was about to be tested, and John prepared himself for what could be an inevitable confrontation.

Chapter 44: The Man with the Metal Arm

The blazing Iraqi sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky with shades of orange and purple. Omega was in the middle of a delicate mission. They had been assigned to escort a high-ranking Iraqi scientist, Dr. Farid Mahmoud, who had valuable information about chemical weapons programs hidden by the previous regime. The priority was clear: ensure the scientist's safety at all costs.

The mission so far had been successful. They had managed to infiltrate the base where Dr. Mahmoud was hiding and extract him without alerting enemy forces. Now, as they made their way back to a safe extraction point, the tension was rising. John knew that the most dangerous time of a mission was not always the beginning, but the exit, when defenses were down and enemies could emerge from any corner.

"Omega 1, we have a clear look ahead. We have no hostile movement on radar." — said Omega 2, the team's communications officer, as he monitored the surroundings with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s advanced equipment.

"Keep your eyes open. We're almost home. Don't relax yet," John replied, his eyes scanning the perimeter.

They were traveling along a deserted road south of Baghdad, surrounded by ruins of war-torn buildings. The wind was stirring up fine dust, and darkness was beginning to envelop everything around them. Dr. Mahmoud, who was walking in the middle of the formation, was visibly nervous, but John and his team maintained a professional and focused demeanor.

"Omega 2 and 3, you two take the rear. Omega 4, 5, and 6, take the front with me," John ordered, adjusting his weapon and keeping the scientist protected.

Suddenly, the metallic sound of something landing heavily behind them made everyone freeze. John turned immediately, his reflexes quick as ever. A figure stepped out of the shadows, swift and silent, but visibly lethal.

The man who emerged was impressive. He wore a black uniform that blended perfectly with the darkness around him, but what caught John's attention immediately was the metallic glint of an arm. The man had a shiny, massive metal arm, designed with advanced technology. And his cold, calculating eyes were focused directly on Dr. Mahmoud.

"Protect the target!" John shouted, already running to intercept the man.

The stranger advanced with impressive speed, but John caught up with him, blocking his path before he could reach the scientist. The impact between the two was brutal. John, a super-soldier trained to the maximum of his ability, felt the power behind the blow as the man's metal arm collided with his improvised shield.

"Who the hell are you?" John growled, his muscles contracting as he absorbed the force of the blow.

The man didn't answer, just smiled coldly, his eyes devoid of any trace of compassion. He attacked again, and this time, John realized that he was not dealing with an ordinary opponent. The man's strength was abnormal, almost superhuman. Every blow he landed reverberated through John's body, as if he were fighting a machine.

The two engaged in an intense battle, quick and powerful blows being exchanged in a matter of seconds. John used his martial arts experience to dodge and counterattack, but the man with the metal arm was a formidable fighter. There was a military precision in his movements, indicating elite training, and more than that, the cybernetic arm drastically increased his strength.

"Omega 4, get the scientist out of here! Now!" John shouted to his team, never taking his eyes off his opponent.

Omega 4 and the others quickly understood the gravity of the situation and began to move Dr. Mahmoud to a safe position, while John continued his hand-to-hand fight. The man tried to break the formation once more, but John pushed him away with a sharp kick to the chest, throwing him against a destroyed concrete wall.

"You're not getting past me," John growled, breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on his opponent.

The man slowly got up, seemingly unaffected by the blow, and advanced again, this time with more aggression. His metal arm swung at an improbable, almost robotic angle, and he threw a punch straight at John's chest, throwing him a few meters back, falling hard to the ground.

"Damn, he's strong..." John thought, as he felt the impact reverberate through his body.

But he wasn't the kind of man to give up. Quickly getting to his feet, John ran towards the man, leaping to dodge another brutal blow and striking directly at the metal arm with his combat knife. The metal sparked, but the blade failed to penetrate the material. This was something much more advanced than he had expected.

The battle continued, but John was beginning to realize something. The man with the metal arm was growing frustrated. He hadn't expected to meet a worthy opponent, and it was visible in his eyes. With a roar of fury, he launched another ferocious attack, but John, using all his experience, managed to knock him down with a precise strike to the leg.

The man fell, and John seized the moment of advantage, grabbing him by the neck and forcing him to the ground.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" John shouted, trying to immobilize him.

For a moment, the man stood still, as if considering what to do. Then, with an explosive force, he broke free from John's grip and moved away in one swift movement. Before John could react, the man disappeared into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared.

"Damn!" John exclaimed, looking around, but the enemy was already gone.

He ran back to his team, who were making sure Dr. Mahmoud was safe. Omega 2 looked at him with a worried expression.

"Who was that guy, boss? He looked..." he hesitated. "He looked like you." John, still panting, nodded slowly.

"Yeah... He was strong, like me." John replied, massaging his shoulder where the metal arm had hit him. "But it wasn't enough. What matters now is that we have Dr. Mahmoud safe. We need to get him out of here before that guy comes back."

"Hawke, we need to inform Fury about this. Whoever this man is, he's not just a common assassin. He has power." — Omega 3 said, adjusting his weapon while keeping the scientist protected.

John nodded.

— Let's finish the mission first. Then we'll report everything. — He said firmly, but in his mind, questions kept popping up.

Who was this man? He was clearly more than a mercenary. The metal arm, the superhuman strength, and the combat skill indicated that he could also be the result of some experiment similar to the one John had undergone. Perhaps another super soldier, but with a very different origin.

As the team moved towards the extraction point, John couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't be the last encounter with the mysterious man with the metal arm. Something much bigger was at stake, and he knew that soon, he would face this enemy again.

Chapter 45: The Winter Soldier

The Strike Team Omega helicopter landed smoothly on the Triskelion airstrip. The morning sun bathed the enormous complex in its golden light, but John's face was distant, somber. The battle he had fought in Iraq, against the mysterious man with the metal arm, continued to echo in his mind. That superhuman strength, the cold and calculating gaze, everything indicated that the adversary was much more than a simple assassin.

"Hawke, are you going straight to Fury?" Omega 2 asked, getting out of the helicopter with an exhausted expression.

"Yes. We need to talk about what happened," John answered without hesitation. "He needs to know. This guy was not ordinary. He is like me... maybe even stronger."

He nodded and looked at the other members of the team, who also seemed uncomfortable with what they had witnessed. Despite the success of the mission in protecting the scientist, everyone knew that something bigger was at stake. And John, as a leader, felt the weight of this responsibility.

John walked quickly through the corridors of the Triskelion, passing busy agents, analysts typing frantically on their computers and monitors displaying surveillance images from various parts of the world. Each step echoed in his mind, as he tried to understand who this man with the metal arm was. When he reached the door to Fury's office, he didn't hesitate to knock.

"Come in." Fury's deep voice sounded from the other side.

John opened the door and entered. Fury was sitting behind his desk, reviewing reports, but he immediately looked up at the captain of Strike Team Omega. Maria Hill, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s second-in-command, was beside him, holding a tablet. They both looked worried, as if they already knew something was out of the ordinary.

"Hawke," Fury began, crossing his arms. "I heard the mission was successful, but it seems there's more to your face than just victory."

John nodded, getting straight to the point.

"We were successful in escorting the scientist, Dr. Mahmoud, as planned. But we encountered… a problem. A man appeared during the extraction, trying to kill the scientist." John paused, his gaze fixed on Fury. "This man had a metal arm. He's strong, very strong. Just like me. He looked superhuman, as if he'd been enhanced somehow. We fought, and though I fought him off, he disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared. I've never seen anything like it."

Fury exchanged a meaningful look with Maria Hill before rising from his chair. He began to pace slowly around the room, his face grave.

"Metal arm, super strength, exceptional combat skills…" Fury muttered, his thoughts spinning rapidly. He turned to John. "This is no ordinary man, Hawke. What you encountered may be something many believe to be a myth."

"A myth?" John frowned. "I don't know what he is, but he definitely wasn't a legend." He was there, in the flesh.

Fury took a deep breath and leaned against the table.

"There's a story that's been going around since the Cold War. There's talk of a ruthless assassin, a ghost, who appears from time to time to carry out secret missions. He has no name, just a codename: 'Winter Soldier'. They say he's racked up dozens of kills over the decades, always in clandestine operations, almost impossible to track. And just as he appears, he disappears. No one knows who he is, and the little information we have makes no sense. He doesn't seem to age and only acts at certain times."

John crossed his arms, absorbing Fury's words.

"Are you telling me this Winter Soldier is real? That he's the one I faced?"

Fury nodded slowly.

"If he has a metal arm and superhuman abilities, the chances are high. I've heard reports about him, but no one has ever been able to confirm them. He's a ghost, a weapon that no one can track. And now, it seems he's involved in this." Maria Hill finally spoke, her voice calm but worried.

"But why would he try to kill Dr. Mahmoud? The scientist has no involvement in anything that would justify an assassin of that level after him." John shook his head, thinking about the fight.

"I don't know. But one thing is certain: he wanted the scientist dead. And he won't stop until he gets it." Fury paced around the room again, his expression even darker now.

"We need to find out more about him. The Winter Soldier is a threat we can't ignore. If he's moving again, it means someone has activated him. And whoever it is has goals we don't yet understand." John was silent for a moment, the pieces of the puzzle slowly starting to fit together in his mind. "If he's as lethal as you say, then we need to be prepared. He nearly defeated me. He's more than just a threat; he's a walking weapon."

Fury nodded.

"You're right. Which is why I'm going to personally investigate him further. I'll need you and your team to be ready for any new operations that come our way. S.H.I.E.L.D. will be keeping an eye out for any sign of this Winter Soldier, but you were the first to face him up close and survive. I'll need you to be at the forefront if we encounter him again."

John nodded. He knew this was just the beginning of something much bigger. Whoever the Winter Soldier was, he was a pawn in a game that was still unfolding in the shadows. But one thing was clear to John: he wouldn't let this threat go unanswered.

"I'll be ready," John replied firmly. "And the next time he shows up, I won't let him get away."

Fury gave a slight smile.

— That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Now, go get some rest. I'll brief the Security Council on this new threat, but I'd rather not alarm them just yet. I'll handle this discreetly.

John turned to leave, but before he could walk out the door, Fury called out to him again.

"And, Hawke… Keep this between us for now. We don't want to cause panic. The Winter Soldier is enough of a nightmare without everyone knowing he might be active again."

John just nodded, knowing that keeping secrets was part of the job. He left Fury's office, his mind still occupied with the director's words. The idea of ​​a ghost soldier, a living legend, was something that wouldn't leave his mind. He knew he had faced a formidable enemy, but now, with Fury's revelation, everything became more sinister.

As he walked through the halls of the Triskelion, John couldn't help but wonder who was behind the Winter Soldier and why he had chosen to act now. Something big was about to happen, and he felt the answer was closer than it seemed.

"Winter Soldier..." he muttered to himself as he headed toward his quarters, knowing that name would follow him for the days to come.

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