Marvel: The Villain Chapter 365 Days

Alexander Pierce stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, watching helplessly as Stark’s Guardian suits blew his three Helicarriers into scrap metal. The roar of the cannons chipped away at his confidence bit by bit, and the composure on his face finally began to crumble.

"Sigh..." Pierce let out a pained, heavy sigh. "What a goddamn waste."

SHIELD had poured every ounce of manpower, resources, and funding into building those three ships. They had recruited thousands of industry experts and spent eight years and over a hundred billion dollars to bring them to life. Tony Stark... that fucking bastard was a goddamn wrecking ball.

Pierce stood frozen for a long time until a STRIKE team member, unable to watch any longer, stepped forward to urge him: "Sir, we have to move now!"

The words snapped Pierce back to reality. He sighed once more, then turned and left without a backward glance.

"Is the plane ready?"

"Ready! The extraction team has already deployed!"

"Good."

After a disaster like this, there was no staying in America. Pierce planned to flee to a Hydra overseas base. People always said Fury had safe houses coming out of his ears, but in that regard, Pierce didn’t fear him one bit.

Suddenly, an Iron Man suit crashed through the outer glass and flew into the top-floor office. Pierce and his men spun around. The red-and-gold nano-armor gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.

"Stark?" Pierce asked.

Tony raised both arms and nodded. "Sorry, Mr. Secretary, but you’re under arrest."

Seeing him made Pierce’s blood boil. He coldly ordered, "Stop him!"

Immediately, the STRIKE members leveled their grenade launchers. Several grenades streaked toward him.

Seeing their method of attack, Tony’s face twisted into a look of pure scorn. What year was it? Still using these bottom-tier, outdated weapons?

The grenades exploded, turning the office into a wreck. Tony stood his ground, unmoving. Aside from a layer of soot on the nano-armor, he was completely undamaged. The violent explosion caused the STRIKE members to instinctively shield their eyes—the perfect opening for a counter-kill.

Tony didn’t give them a second to breathe. He raised his arms, and his palm repulsors fired like an automatic rifle. Golden electromagnetic pulses sent the STRIKE members flying into walls and crashing to the floor. Tony was precise; he only broke a few of their bones and knocked them unconscious. Keeping them alive meant they could still dig out more Hydra moles hidden in other departments.

The dozen-plus STRIKE members only held him up for a few seconds. Tony quickly caught up to Pierce, who had just made it out the door.

"Secretary, your boys are done. Give it up!" Tony aimed a repulsor directly at his chest.

Pierce stopped and looked at the nano-armor, a hint of envy in his eyes. "If your father had been more sensible back then, today would have ended very differently."

This was an admission. It meant Stark’s parents hadn’t died in a car accident; they were assassinated by Hydra. Remembering the film footage his father had left behind, Tony’s expression flared with rage.

"I suggest you stop dreaming! A great man like my father would never have crawled into the mud with you."

"Perhaps..." Pierce managed a small smile, his voice eerily calm. "But don’t celebrate too early. Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place!"

Tony’s brow furrowed. A sudden, bad premonition hit him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? What else does Hydra have planned?"

Pierce looked at him, gave a chilling chuckle, and then his face contorted as he collapsed to the floor. Tony jumped, quickly kneeling to flip Pierce over. He touched the blood seeping from the man’s lips with his fingertips.

"Jarvis, blood scan!"

"Yes, sir."

Half a minute later, Jarvis spoke: "Sir, he has been poisoned."

Poisoned! Pierce was committing suicide!

Tony was utterly baffled and asked urgently, "What kind of poison? Can we save him?"

"Cross-referencing database... no results found. It appears to be an unknown toxin," Jarvis replied.

No results in the database meant no antidote could be synthesized. The man was a goner. Just as the death warrant was virtually signed, Pierce’s eyes snapped open in a final surge of life. His eyeballs bulged as he screamed in a raspy voice: "Hail Hydra!"

Then, he slowly closed his eyes, a cunning smile etched onto his face until the very end.

Riot vans shrieked through the streets. The terrorist attack on SHIELD HQ had shocked every law enforcement agency in the country. Just as they were reeling, orders came from the top: get to the Triskelion in full gear, surround it, and let no one in or out.

Thousands of SWAT officers arrived, using their vehicles as cover to block every exit. Some SHIELD agents tried to slip out but were forced back by police gunfire.

Steve stood by the river, watching the opposite bank in confusion. The battle was over. There were many wounded agents inside. Why weren’t the police busy saving lives instead of blockading the building? Sensing something was wrong, he immediately contacted Tony.

To his surprise, Tony explained calmly: "Aside from SHIELD agents, there are tons of Hydra moles hidden in that building. If we let them blend into the crowd and escape, we’ll never find them again."

Steve was still unsatisfied with the answer. In his mind, the priority after a battle should be saving the wounded—those people were heroes who resisted the uprising. Catching Hydra moles could be done simultaneously; they weren’t mutually exclusive.

However, the police—or rather, the politicians—never considered that. They made the most stable and cold-blooded decision. Steve’s burning passion took a sudden chill. But before the mood could linger, he saw several suits flying into the Triskelion.

Tony knew exactly what Steve was thinking, so he deployed a batch of suits specifically to help rescue the wounded. These suits weren’t just weapon platforms; they were integrated with medical instruments. Linked to Stark Industries’ servers, they could perform hundreds of first-aid procedures and transmit live feeds back to top-tier doctors for remote surgery.

Half an hour later, the remaining Hydra holdouts were eliminated by the suits, and the situation at the Triskelion was finally under control. Steve also convinced the President to allow the wounded agents to be moved to hospitals.

SHIELD agents who had survived by the skin of their teeth walked out of the building. But before they could even breathe the fresh air, they were hauled into FBI vans.

The fact that Hydra had turned SHIELD into its own nest had sent shockwaves through the American political landscape. The President ordered a total purge. Because SHIELD was an elite intelligence agency, even their desk clerks had gone through the SHIELD Academy and received professional spy training. Therefore, the only ones qualified to vet them were fellow top-tier agencies: the FBI and CIA.

Under the Department of Justice, a massive joint task force was formed to conduct rigorous investigations into every single SHIELD and government employee. Those who were clean had no major issues, but those who had even shifted toward Hydra were in for hell. Any shred of doubt meant endless interrogation. Even if no hard evidence was found, their political careers were over.

While this would severely cripple the nation’s intelligence capabilities, the rot had to be cut out completely, or the future would be even grimmer. To prevent the task force from being infiltrated or corrupted, the President invited two special oversight consultants: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.

The two of them, barely having time to breathe after the battle, were brought to FBI headquarters. They sat in a private monitor room, staring at ten LCD screens corresponding to ten interrogation rooms. Only the most suspicious individuals with ties to Hydra were being monitored by them personally.

The monitor room was dim, the blue light of the screens straining their eyes. They had been sitting there for over three hours, and so far, they had nothing. Most suspects had some connection to Hydra, but it was usually just normal social interaction. In this day and age, who doesn’t have a few friends like that?

Before someone is exposed, you think they’re a soulmate. Once they are, the malice behind the smile shows you just how filthy the adult world really is.

"Ugh!" Tony threw his head back and let out a massive yawn. He uncrossed his legs and rubbed his sore eyes, looking for an excuse to bolt. These politicians were really working them to the bone. They had just fought a war and were dragged here without even getting lunch.

Tony was about to drag Steve away, only to find Steve staring at the screen with a tense, dead-serious expression. He was looking at Interrogation Room 8. The suspect was a man in his late thirties, clearly not a combat type.

Tony didn’t say anything; he just picked up the headset and tuned into Room 8. Within two minutes, Tony had the exact same look on his face as Steve.

The man belonged to SHIELD Logistics—a Level 6 agent and a confidant of the former Director, Nick Fury. He had been given a vital mission: to go undercover as a close friend and keep a deep-cover watch on the Head of SHIELD Logistics, Norman Stansfield.

Because Fury suspected that Norman Stansfield was a mole planted in SHIELD by the Joker Organization.

The news hit Steve and Tony like a physical blow. They had set out to catch snakes, and they had accidentally snared a clown.

Mention of the Joker Organization put them both on high alert. Tony wasn’t going anywhere now. Over the next few minutes, they listened to everything the agent had gathered over the years and Fury’s specific suspicions regarding Norman Stansfield.

They didn’t hesitate. They dropped the headsets and walked out of the room. Norman was a major problem, and they had to get to him. Learning he was currently under house arrest, they suited up and took off immediately.

*

Norman was dressed in comfortable loungewear, lounging on his sofa and watching TV. A signal tracker was strapped to his ankle. If he moved so much as a step outside his door or tried to break the device, SHIELD would know instantly and send agents to arrest him. Well, that was the old protocol, anyway...

Norman was watching the news. The screen showed cell phone footage from tourists. Three Helicarriers being jumped by a swarm of Iron Man suits, their massive hulls shattered by missiles, raining down like metallic rain into the river.

The video ended and cut back to the scene. A reporter stood outside the Triskelion, reporting with a grave face. But the blonde girl could only talk about casualties and property damage. As for what actually happened? Why was the FBI making arrests? What was the deal with the Helicarriers? Why did Iron Man attack them? The media knew nothing because the government had established a total blackout.

The news anchor mentioned that the White House had confirmed the President would hold a nationally televised press conference in three days to answer the public’s questions.

Norman finished watching the boring news and stood up to go to the bedroom. He stripped off his casual clothes, took a shower, and then—with a casual rip—tore the signal tracker off his ankle.

The tracker turned red, emitting a piercing alarm.

Norman was unfazed. He unhurriedly changed into a sharp, pearl-white pinstripe suit, then stood before the mirror to adjust his clothes and hair.

Two minutes later, the reinforced door was violently breached. Four SHIELD agents burst in.

"Norman!"

"Where are you?"

Norman put down his comb and walked out of the bedroom, waving his hand. "I’m right here!"

The agents immediately aimed their guns at him. They saw his bare ankle. "Where’s the tracker?"

Norman answered calmly, "It was rubbing my leg the wrong way, so I threw it out."

The agents’ internal alarms went off. They instinctively moved to pull their triggers.

"Hmph." Norman gave a cold smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly. His superpower activated instantly.

The four agents looked as if they had been hit by a freezing spell. They stood frozen in place, motionless. The triggers were never pulled.

Norman whistled a tune as he walked past them and casually strolled out of the apartment.

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