Marvel: The Villain Chapter 369 HQ

Minutes after the two vanished, Washington D.C. police and nearby military units surged into action. Riot vans, concrete barriers, and a sea of officers effectively sealed off every street surrounding the White House, paralyzing all pedestrian and vehicle traffic.

A forensic team arrived on the lawn. After a grim examination, they officially pronounced the President dead. With the state of current medical technology, there was nothing left to be done—he was gone.

Soon, the executive cabinet arrived by helicopter, including the Vice President. They formed a somber circle around the President's body, staring at his unclosed eyes. The events of the last few days had been a surreal, mind-bending nightmare that left them reeling.

First, the sudden emergence of Hydra and their Project Insight plot to slaughter millions. Then, just as the news broke, the plan was dismantled by a handful of colorful superheroes. To honor them, the President had organized a ceremony. And on that day of national celebration, a legendary icon of World War II—Captain America, Steve Rogers—had personally executed the man who was pinning a medal to his chest, all in front of a live audience of a hundred million people.

As the officials struggled with the fallout, a mechanical rasp echoed from the sky.

Everyone looked up to see Tony Stark staggering through the air. His once-pristine nano-armor was a wreck, scorched and dented. One of his boot thrusters was dead, forcing him to bank hard and land awkwardly on a single leg.

Tony scanned the high-ranking officials before settling his gaze on the President's body. "I'm sorry," He rasped, his voice heavy. "I lost."

The officials began to whisper frantically. None of them had expected Steve's Hulk state to be so powerful that even Iron Man, equipped with his latest nano-tech, couldn't suppress him.

The Vice President stepped forward, his face a mask of stern authority. "You lost? Then where the hell is Rogers now?"

"I don't know," Tony replied flatly. "I was too busy getting my ass kicked to check his GPS. But he's cleared the D.C. perimeter. That much I can tell you."

It was a non-answer, and the group shook their heads in frustration.

The Vice President let out a heavy sigh. "Issue the order immediately. A nationwide manhunt for Steve Rogers. If he resists, kill him on sight."

Tony's head snapped up. "Mr. Vice President, a manhunt is one thing. But kill on sight? This situation is riddled with holes. We need a statement from Steve, we need to understand his motive."

The Vice President pointed a trembling finger at the corpse on the grass. "What holes? A hundred million people watched him snap the President's neck with their own eyes! An American hero murdering the American President... it's the most disgusting scandal of the 21st century!"

"Which is exactly why we need the truth!" Tony countered. "Steve Rogers is Captain America. He's a veteran. Executing him without a trial will tear this country apart. You owe the people a real investigation."

The Vice President sneered. "A hero? He's been a block of ice for seventy years; who knows what kind of rot happened to his brain? Besides, if even Iron Man can't bring him in alive, the military doesn't stand a chance of being gentle."

Tony fell silent, stopping his defense. He was certain these idiots wouldn't find Steve, and he had only been testing the waters to gauge the high command's stance. It was clear: until they cleared Steve's name, he had to stay a ghost. If the military moved in with full force, Steve would either have to start a massacre to escape or die in a ditch.

Seeing Stark back down, the Vice President barked at a general, "Repeat my orders. A national alert for Steve Rogers. Kill on sight. Furthermore, anyone—and I mean anyone—found harboring him will be charged with treason."

Tony stood there, expressionless. He knew these politicians didn't give a damn about the truth; they only cared about optics and power—especially this Vice President. The man needed to avenge the President to skyrocket his approval ratings and secure his own election the following year. The truth was an inconvenience.

The atmosphere turned icy. It was clear Tony was no longer welcome. He gave a self-deprecating smirk and turned to leave.

As Tony walked away, the Vice President whispered to a nearby officer, "Get two F-22s on his tail. Now."

The officer blinked. "Sir? You think Tony Stark is involved in—"

The Vice President shook his head. "I don't think he helped kill the President. But I'm worried he'll protect him. Rogers and Howard Stark were friends. They've bled together. Tony even gave the man that nano-suit. Their bond is too deep to ignore. I can't take the risk."

"Understood. I'll arrange it."

A few moments later, a black hearse pulled onto the White House grounds. Medics in white coats carefully moved the President's body into a cryogenic unit. Until the investigation was closed, the body was evidence. It couldn't be buried.

It was a pathetic end for the man. His decisive handling of the SHIELD crisis had sent his numbers through the roof; his re-election had been a certainty. Just as he was reaching the peak of his career, he was murdered by the soldier he trusted most. The bitter irony was that he died without ever knowing why.

Tony walked down the street in his shattered armor, his silhouette looking lonely against the D.C. skyline. The ceremony was supposed to be a triumph; instead, it was a funeral. The Joker Organization was clearly the puppet master, but Tony had zero evidence and no way to touch them.

He felt a sense of powerlessness.

A helicopter bearing the Stark Industries logo descended in front of him. Tony climbed in and spoke to the empty cockpit. "Head to HQ, Jarvis."

"Certainly, sir."

As the rotors spun up and the bird banked toward New York, two Marine F-22 Raptors locked onto their signature from miles away, shadowing them like vultures.

"Sir," Jarvis prompted. "We have two military intercepts on our tail."

Tony let out a cold laugh. He wasn't surprised. "Ignore them. Land the chopper on the internal pad at the tower."

He pressed a button on his armrest. A secondary suit of armor deployed from behind the seat, encasing him instantly. He engaged the stealth-cloak, masking his thermal and radar signatures, then banked away from the helicopter's path, heading for his secret base in the woods.

To ensure he wasn't followed, Tony changed course twice and summoned several Guardian drones to run interference and sensor-sweeps. Only when he was certain the perimeter was clean for a hundred miles did he land at the hidden forest facility.

Pepper was waiting on the tarmac, her face a mask of pure anxiety. The moment Tony stepped out of the suit, she rushed him.

"Pepper, what is it?"

"What is it?!" She shouted, waving a tablet. "The news is exploding! Steve killed the President! Tony, what the hell is happening?"

She was talking so fast she was nearly hyperventilating. Tony put a hand on her shoulder. "Pepper, breathe. Slow down."

She brushed his hand off. "I can't be calm! After everything that happened, how could you bring him back here? Do you have any idea what kind of crime this is? You're harboring a presidential assassin!"

They didn't call her Pepper for nothing. A rapid-fire barrage of questions left Tony's head spinning.

He gripped her shoulders firmly. "The details are still coming together, but I know one thing: Steve is not a murderer. I have to believe in him, and you have to believe in me."

After letting out her frustration, Pepper's anger cooled. She decided to trust Tony, just this once.

"Where is he?" Tony asked.

"In the lounge," Pepper said. "I was worried he might... snap again, so I have a squad of Guardians standing by nearby."

Tony gave a weary, amused shake of his head and told Jarvis to stand the drones down.

Steve sat in a chair, staring at the news on a computer screen. It had been less than an hour since the incident, but the topic had already garnered over a billion views. A presidential assassination was a rare, world-shaking event. When the killer was a legendary icon like Captain America, the interest was unprecedented.

Steve logged onto Facebook, scrolling through the comments.

"Oh my god, I'm literally shaking right now!"

"Am I dreaming? Captain America is Hydra?!"

"I'm devastated. I've been a fan for fifteen years."

"What happens now? Does he get a trial, or do they just shoot him like a dog?"

"Capturing him alive is impossible. They'll execute him on the spot."

"Look at the video... it's so ironic. The President gives him a medal, and he pays him back with a broken neck."

"He's dead, who cares? I hated that President anyway."

"Iron Man and Cap are in this together. Arrest Stark too!"

"Hydra scum, go to hell!"

The last comment featured a photo of a man holding a middle finger to the screen next to a burning Captain America poster. Every word felt like a needle being driven into Steve's heart. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrolling past the vitriol.

After hundreds of hateful posts, he finally found one that gave him a glimmer of hope.

"Are you all insane? Calm down! This is Captain America—the man who saved the world. I've re-watched the footage frame-by-frame. In slow motion, you can see his expression is unnatural. He looks nervous in front of the cameras, sure, but the moment he strikes, he has this weird, creepy smile. It's too sudden. I'm telling you, there's something else going on here. Stop dragging our hero through the mud."

There were over a thousand replies to that post. Steve clicked on them, and his blood began to boil. The thread was a cesspool of insults, death threats, and rage directed at the rational poster.

A knock at the door made Steve quickly close the browser.

"Come in!"

Tony entered, carrying two glasses of juice. He had changed out of his suit into a simple charcoal-grey t-shirt.

"Thanks," Steve said, taking the drink. "How's your chest?"

He had seen the video. The punch he delivered was massive; it could have easily been fatal. Tony shook his head with a smile, patting his ribs. "Better. Just a nasty bruise. I probably won't be surfing in Miami for a few weeks, though."

Steve managed a small smile and took a sip. He knew Tony was trying to comfort him, but as a man out of time, what he needed wasn't comfort—it was a plan.

Tony pulled up a chair. Steve asked, "Any thoughts on Norman?"

Tony set his juice aside. "To get to the truth, we have to catch the man. But he's a ghost. I've deployed the entire Guardian fleet to sweep the D.C. area, and Jarvis is monitoring every comm signal in the country, especially anything heading toward Africa."

If Norman was a Joker mole, he'd eventually try to contact HQ. Tony's logic was sound.

"This feels too passive," Steve said. "What can I do?"

"Right now? Nothing," Tony said firmly. "The Vice President has issued a national kill-order. If you're spotted, they won't ask questions."

Steve went silent. It was the worst-case scenario, and he had expected it. The military's weapons couldn't hurt him in his current state, but he was terrified of accidental casualties. He had already killed guards at the White House; he didn't want the body count to rise. More importantly, if he was caught, Tony would be dragged down with him.

"Fine," Steve said, his voice heavy. "I'll stay here for now."

.

.

.

.

You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.

pat reon.com/GreenBlue17

200 power stones.

Top 100. All time.