Marvel: The Villain Chapter 374 Now

As the news cycle churned, the public reputation of both the Vice President and Norman Stansfield reached unprecedented heights.

The Vice President, in particular, became a symbol of national stoicism. When the public learned he had refused to save his own family to stand against Hydra, their respect for him bordered on worship. According to a third-party poll, his approval rating soared to a staggering 80%, rivaling the most legendary presidents in history. Barring a miracle for his opponents, he was guaranteed to crush the next election.

Amidst thunderous cheers, the Vice President held his inauguration at the exact spot where the former President had been assassinated. It was a calculated move of pure provocation, a middle finger to Hydra that said:

This display of bravado electrified the nation. Populists chanting "America First" were practically ready to kneel and hail him as a savior. Thus, the Vice President officially dropped the "Vice" and moved into the Oval Office.

Simultaneously, Norman Stansfield was discharged from the hospital and formally appointed by the World Security Council as the new Director of SHIELD. With a Director in place and a presidential order to hunt down Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, SHIELD finally had its marching orders.

But the agency was short-staffed. To prevent Norman from being a commander without an army, the President conveniently issued a blanket pardon for all SHIELD agents currently in custody who were not on Norman’s list. What the public didn’t know was that these cleared agents were the actual Hydra members.

After a long, bloody detour, everything had returned to the status quo—with one crucial difference. These Hydra cells now answered to a new master. SHIELD might as well have been renamed the Joker Bureau.

With the morning sun on his face, Norman pushed open the door of his new home, dressed in a crisp, tailored suit. The American-style villa behind him had once belonged to a powerful financier before Nick Fury acquired it. Now that Fury was dead, his decades of accumulated spoils had become Norman’s mission reward. Of course, this was just the tip of the iceberg; Fury’s secret assets were likely immeasurable, but their locations remained a mystery.

At the bottom of the steps sat a brand-new, custom Chevrolet muscle car. It featured a high-strength alloy body, aerospace-grade bulletproof glass, a 6.2L 12-cylinder high-output engine, an onboard AI, and twin 7.62mm heavy machine guns. More importantly, it was equipped with an anti-gravity system for vertical takeoff and landing.

Norman ran a hand over the cold hood, admiring the cool girl designed solely for his service. He got in, started the engine, and cruised leisurely toward headquarters with the music blaring. Being the Director meant he finally had the right to be late and leave early. A thirty-minute commute took him over an hour and a half.

By lunchtime, the Triskelion loomed ahead. After weeks of repairs, the scars of battle were gone. Aside from the sharp scent of fresh paint, the building looked exactly as it had before. Norman parked right at the entrance and strode inside, chest out.

"Director!"

"Good morning, Director!"

"Would you like some coffee, sir?"

The lobby was buzzing, but everyone stopped to offer a solemn greeting as he passed. Norman understood why people craved power; the feeling of being feared and respected—knowing you could decide someone’s future with a nod—was intoxicating. After nearly a decade of playing the humble subordinate at SHIELD, he had finally reached the top.

Gone was the modest, friendly facade. He met his subordinates’ greetings with a cold, sharp nod. These people were Hydra; there was no need for pleasantries or a fake mask.

He took his private elevator straight to the penthouse. He pushed open the double doors to the Director’s office and locked them behind him. The massive room was spotless. Norman paced around with interest. Previously, he only came here to be interrogated by Fury; now, he could finally enjoy the view.

While the luxury didn’t quite match his suburban villa, the office symbolized raw power. That aura made even the somewhat dated decor feel regal. Norman walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, which were so clear they were almost invisible, allowing him to survey the river below and savor the feeling of being a god among men.

Norman thought.

After an hour of soaking it in, his excitement leveled off. He sat in the chair and summoned the AI. "Open the archives."

"Authenticating... Access granted. Welcome home, Director Norman."

It was SHIELD’s proprietary AI, though the welcome home bit felt a little pandering. Norman noted.

A holographic screen flared into the air, presenting the vast SHIELD database. "Heh, I finally got my hands on you," Norman whispered, staring at the millions of files. He plugged in a black USB drive, activating a virus developed by Chloe. The virus bypassed detection, hollowing out the database to steal intel and planting a background process to monitor the internal network 24/7.

Stealing this data had been Norman’s original mission when he joined SHIELD. The archives contained mountains of black material on every major player in society: government officials, generals, CEOs—everyone. With this leverage, the Joker Organization could pull strings across the globe.

Ironically, his mission had been a failure for years. Fury was too paranoid, and since he already suspected Norman, the core secrets were always out of reach. Norman had never given up, but he hadn’t expected the Joker Organization to grow so fast. Within a few years, they were strong enough to challenge the world with raw force, rendering the blackmail strategy almost obsolete.

To others, Norman’s years of effort looked like a joke. That was why he hadn’t returned to Africa. Slinking back with an unfinished mission wasn’t his style. Even if the organization didn’t need the intel anymore, he would finish the job to prove his worth. Unlike his low-born comrades, Norman was a veteran of the political machine. He preferred the elegance of intel, frame-ups, and betrayals over the crude simplicity of a fist. His choice of the bitter meat ruse for this mission proved that old habits die hard.

Once the data transfer to Chloe was complete, Norman leaned back and let out a long sigh. The mission of a lifetime was finished, but his heart felt strangely hollow. Hydra had defected, SHIELD was broken... with no rivals left, he didn’t know what to do next.

He spent the afternoon slacking off, only snapping out of his daze when his assistant called him for dinner. After a meal and declining an invitation to a celebratory banquet, he returned to the office to kill time until the end of the day.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed.

"Data received. Chloe is analyzing it now. Good work," Christine’s voice crackled through.

"It was nothing," Norman replied. "You didn’t call just to say thanks."

"You’re right. The analysis isn’t finished, but Chloe flagged something valuable."

Norman’s vacant eyes sharpened. "What is it? Don’t play games, I’m bored to death."

"I figured. It’s a mission report for the Winter Soldier—Bucky Barnes. Dated December 16, 1991."

"Mission details?"

"None."

"None?" Norman frowned. "It’s just a date. Why do you think it’s valuable?"

"Use your brain, Norman," Christine teased. "Think back. What happened on December 16, 1991?"

Norman didn’t bother thinking; he just Googled the date.

Norman’s breath hitched. His pulse quickened as he stared at the headline. "No way..."

"Feeling motivated yet?" Christine asked.

Norman scrolled through the accident reports, shaking his head. "It’s just a guess. Even SHIELD has nothing on it. If there’s no paper trail, it doesn’t exist."

"Not necessarily. There are plenty of Hydra veterans in the building. Ask them. Maybe they know what happened that night."

Norman’s eyes lit up. "Understood."

"Good. That’s all for now. Out."

Norman was no longer in a daze. Re-energized, he used the internal line to summon several Hydra members to his office.

Minutes later, a few middle-aged men with graying hair sat on the sofa. Despite their biological age, the anti-aging serums made them look no older than fifty.

Norman cut straight to the chase. "December 16, 1991. Did Bucky Barnes assassinate the Starks?"

The room went cold. They looked stunned. This was a top-tier Hydra secret—the ultimate weapon against Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. Only a handful of people in the inner circle knew. How did he find out?

Their expressions shifted to acceptance. Hydra was dead; they were Joker now. "Yes," One man confirmed. "Howard Stark was making rapid progress on a new Serum. It was ready for human trials. We sent the Winter Soldier to kill them and retrieve the samples."

Norman broke into a predatory grin.

Steve and Bucky were almost certainly being hidden by Tony. The genius billionaire had no idea he was risking his life to protect the man who murdered his parents. What would happen when he found out? Would he let it go and blame Hydra? Or would he hunt Bucky to the ends of the Earth?

And if he chose the latter... Steve Rogers would never stand aside.

"Hydra always kept records of missions, right?" Norman asked.

The man shook his head. "We didn’t use video back then, only text. But that specific hit was caught by a security camera. Bucky retrieved the master tape afterward."

Norman leaned forward. "Where is it?"

"We didn’t take it when we evacuated. It should still be in the archives at the Siberian base."

Norman stood up immediately. "In that case, pack your bags. You’re going to be my tour guide. We’re taking a trip to Siberia."

"Now?"

"Right fucking now."

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

pat reon.com/GreenBlue17

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