Shattered Illusions
The night air was thick with tension as Celeste moved through the abandoned S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, her senses on high alert. Every shadow felt like a threat, every sound a warning. She wasn’t alone. Steve moved beside her, shield raised, his breathing steady despite the storm raging inside of him. Natasha followed closely, her sharp eyes scanning every corner, fingers twitching near her holstered weapons.
Everything they had known was a lie.
HYDRA had never been destroyed. It had slithered into the heart of S.H.I.E.L.D., corrupting it from within. The revelation still echoed in Celeste’s mind, a bitter taste she couldn’t wash away. She had spent decades believing in the fight for freedom, only to realize they had been standing in the middle of an enemy stronghold the entire time.
Steve stopped at a terminal, inserting the drive they had recovered. A flickering screen buzzed to life, revealing the last person any of them had expected to see.
Dr. Arnim Zola.
Or what was left of him. His consciousness had been transferred into an archaic computer system, his voice cold and detached as he explained the truth. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been nothing more than a shell, a vessel for HYDRA’s resurgence. Every war, every disaster, every loss—it had all been orchestrated.
Celeste clenched her fists as the pieces fell into place. Project Insight, the assassinations, the political manipulations—HYDRA had played the world like a chessboard, moving its pieces while they blindly followed orders. Her stomach twisted as she thought back to the missions she had taken part in, the people she had trusted.
“We won the war because of you,” Zola droned, his mechanical voice reverberating through the chamber. “But since then, you have been merely pawns in a greater game.”
Celeste exchanged a glance with Steve. His jaw was tight, his eyes burning with the same betrayal she felt in her own chest. They had fought to free the world, and yet the enemy had been hiding in plain sight the entire time.
A sudden beep sent a chill down her spine.
“Insieme alla missione, viene il sacrificio,” Zola muttered—the mission comes with sacrifice.
It was a trap.
The entire facility exploded around them.
Celeste barely had time to react before the force of the blast sent her flying. She hit the ground hard, coughing as dust and debris rained down. The structure was collapsing, flames licking at the walls as smoke filled the air.
“Move!” Steve shouted, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to her feet. Natasha was already sprinting ahead, leading them through the chaos. The ground trembled beneath them as more explosions detonated, tearing through the building with merciless precision.
They barely made it out before the entire bunker caved in behind them, swallowing the remnants of Zola’s ghost in fire and rubble. Celeste inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. Her ears were ringing, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“We need to go,” Natasha said, glancing at Steve. “They’ll be looking for us now.”
Steve nodded, but Celeste could see the weight in his gaze. Everything had changed. They were fugitives now, hunted by the very organization they had once called their own.
Celeste exhaled slowly, looking up at the burning wreckage behind them.
Let them come.
She was done running.