The room hung in thick silence, the only sound being the hum of power still lingering in the walls, the faint flickering of emergency lights casting eerie shadows over the ruined facility. The weight of what had just happened settled heavily in the air—bodies on the ground, mechanical husks torn apart, wires hanging like severed arteries. The acrid scent of burned circuitry and blood mingled, a sickening reminder of the battle they had just won.

Captain America turned toward Sharon, his features unreadable beneath the mask, but she could feel the weight of his disapproval even before he spoke. His voice, when it came, was quiet but firm.

"Are you okay, both of you?"

The SHIELD agent beside her swallowed hard, nodding, his face pale and streaked with grime. "We are, sir. Thanks to you."

Sharon exhaled, pressing a gloved hand to her temple before nodding as well. "We're alive, Steve."

His blue eyes hardened slightly as he studied her. "Sharon, I'm really disappointed. But we'll speak later."

Her expression barely shifted, but there was something tense in the way she swallowed, her gaze briefly flickering away. "Yes, Steve."

He turned from her, pressing his fingers against the communicator in his mask. "Tony, are you positive the entire building is clear?"

A brief static-filled pause before Iron Man’s voice crackled back. "I'm positive, Cap. Come upstairs."

"Sharon, soldier—you're with me."

They made their way up the ruined corridors, stepping over shattered remnants of robots and scattered debris. The halls were eerily silent now, devoid of the mechanical screeches and screams that had filled them only minutes before. When they reached the upper level, Captain America was met by Myers and the remaining SHIELD squads, their weapons still raised, scanning for any lingering threats.

Steve took a deep breath, trying to push away the anger building in his chest. This entire situation reeked of something bigger, something more dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

"Stay here," he ordered the agents, adjusting his shield back onto his forearm. "I'll find the Avengers."

Before he could even move, the familiar hum of repulsor thrusters filled the air, and Iron Man, Falcon, and Wasp flew in through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Janet, still in her Wasp suit, carried the unconscious scientist in her arms, her expression unreadable as she set him down with something close to distaste.

"He's out cold, Steve," she said, brushing debris off her gloves.

Steve stared at the scientist, then back at the rest of the team. "We'll talk to him later." He turned to Tony, his expression serious. "What do you make of this tech? Is it yours?"

Tony’s helmet retracted with a small hiss, revealing his sharp, scrutinizing gaze as he scanned the ruined remains of the machines. He knelt beside one of the fallen husks, pressing a gauntleted hand against its shattered chest plate, the sensors embedded in his suit glowing as they analyzed the remnants.

"Not mine," Tony confirmed, exhaling. "Not even close. But…" He tapped something on his forearm display, scrolling through data. "There are… pieces here that don’t add up."

Steve’s brow furrowed. "Hammer?"

Tony snorted. "Please, Steve. Hammer couldn’t engineer his way out of a paper bag. This isn’t his work."

"Oscorp?"

That made Tony pause. He exhaled through his nose before glancing up. "Now you’re getting warmer. There’s definitely some Oscorp parts in here. Some of these processors? Pure Norman Osborn vintage."

Steve’s stomach turned. "But that’s not the only thing, is it?"

Tony shook his head, lips pressing into a thin line. "No. And here’s where it gets real interesting—some of this tech? It’s Trask."

The room went deathly silent.

"Trask?" Steve repeated, the name weighing heavy in the air. "Trask International?"

Tony leaned back, arms crossed over his chestplate. "Yep. Same guys who make Sentinels for the DOD. Y'know, just in case Magneto wants to show up again… or if the X-Men ever decide to go rogue. No offense to our favorite Southern Belle."

Steve’s jaw tightened. He knew full well that Trask’s Sentinels were designed with one specific purpose in mind—to hunt mutants. The idea that their technology was being repurposed into bio-hybrid monstrosities like the ones they had just fought sent a cold chill through his veins.

"Why is Trask tech relevant to SHIELD or AIM?" Steve asked.

Tony shrugged, but there was no humor in his voice. "That’s the million-dollar question, Cap. Their specialty is genetic scanning, bio-adaptive AI, that sort of thing. It’s not exactly ideal for combat droids like these. The best in the market for that kinda tech?" He smirked, tapping his chest. "You’re looking at him."

Janet folded her arms, unimpressed. "So you’re saying they didn’t use your tech, and that somehow surprises you?"

Tony flashed her a grin. "I mean, I’m just relieved. Not that I’d be responsible for how my tech gets used or anything."

Steve gave him a hard look.

Tony sighed, raising his hands. "Fine, fine. Not the time. Geez."

Steve turned to the unconscious scientist. Something about the way he lay there—too still, too aware—made his instincts scream. His expression darkened.

Without hesitation, he slapped the scientist hard across the face.

The man jolted awake, gasping. "What—?"

Steve grabbed his ID badge, scanning the name. "Doctor Adler." He crouched, his voice steady but carrying an edge of cold authority. "Your technology cost the lives of a lot of people today, Doctor. Show some decency and answer my questions."

Adler groaned, rubbing his jaw. "Fine, fine."

"What are these machines?" Steve demanded.

Adler hesitated, then sighed. "They're… bio-hybrid machines. We use human brains with simple computers to enhance data processing. It’s an unhackable system, a novel solution."

Steve’s stomach churned. "You're saying you put people inside these things."

"Their brains, yes," Adler admitted. "It’s efficient—"

Steve’s fist clenched. "What’s their purpose?"

The scientist hesitated. "Honestly? I don’t know. The whole project file was redacted. The purpose was… undefined."

Steve’s eyes narrowed. "Undefined?" His voice was razor-sharp now. "And when that happens, Doctor, what does it mean?"

Adler exhaled slowly, glancing away. "It means… it was just a prototype. Build it now, find a purpose later."

Tony let out a low whistle. "Those tax dollars could be better spent at Stark Industries."

"Tony." Janet shot him a glare.

"Just saying, Jan. Just saying."

Steve turned his gaze back to Adler. "Were these meant to hunt mutants?"

Adler’s mouth pressed into a thin line. "I’m… not sure. Maybe. Maybe not. We used Trask’s technology to identify genetic anomalies. Mutants, mutates, Inhumans, aliens—any life form that deviated from the Homo sapiens baseline."

Steve’s gut twisted. "And this Trask tech—where did you get it?"

Adler licked his lips nervously. "We couldn’t get it directly from Trask. We didn’t have the right… backing for that. So we bought it on the black market."

Steve’s eyes hardened. "From whom?"

Adler swallowed. "A man from Houston. He was connected to… Carraro Security."

That name hit like a hammer.

Steve stilled.

Carraro. The same private security firm that the X-Men were investigating. The same name that kept appearing in shady operations across the country.

This wasn’t just about rogue SHIELD scientists anymore.

There was something bigger at play.

Steve took a slow breath, his mind racing.

"Where did you meet him?" His voice was sharp.

Adler hesitated. "I—I don’t know. I don’t remember his name—"

Before he could finish, the hiss of the elevator doors filled the air.

Steve’s entire body went tense.

Captain America’s entire body was coiled tight with tension as the hiss of the elevator doors echoed through the ruined facility. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt metal, coolant fluid, and something deeper, something wrong. His hand tightened around his shield, ready for whatever new horror might emerge.

But instead of another mechanical nightmare, two men stepped forward.

The first was Nick Fury.

He was dressed in a dark navy tactical coat, the high collar turned up against the stale underground air. The ever-present eyepatch sat over his left eye, but his right—the cold, piercing blue—held the same sharpness, the same unreadable weight of someone who had seen too much, done too much, and come back standing. But something was different. The Fury that Steve remembered, that he once trusted, wouldn't have been behind something like this.

At his side stood John Walker, the USAgent.

He cut an imposing figure in the low light, standing tall and broad, clad in his black and red uniform—a dark mirror of Steve’s own. His helmet sat snug over his head, obscuring most of his features except for his jaw, strong and squared, clenched tight. In his left hand, he carried a shield of his own—similar in size and shape to Steve’s, but where Steve’s bore the star-spangled symbol of America’s ideals, Walker’s bore the letters "US". The bold, militaristic black and red design stripped away the hopeful inspiration of Captain America, leaving only a cold, pragmatic statement of force.

Steve saw red.

His body moved before he could think—before he could rationalize, before he could process. His feet dug into the cracked ground as he closed the distance between them in a single stride, his muscles tensing like coiled steel.

Then, with the full force of a century of battle and principle behind it, Steve Rogers threw a right hook straight into Nick Fury’s face.

The impact was brutal, solid, the kind of hit that could drop an ordinary man instantly. Fury staggered back, his head snapping to the side as blood spattered against the cold metal walls. The Director of SHIELD was sent to the ground, landing on his backside with a smirk, wiping the blood from his nose.

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Walker moved immediately, stepping forward, his shield raised, muscles flexed and ready for a fight.

Before he could take another step, Tony Stark’s hand snapped up, the whine of a fully charged repulsor blast flaring to life, aimed directly at Walker’s chest. Falcon’s wings unfurled beside him, and Janet, still in her Wasp suit, hovered at Walker’s flank, her bio-stingers already glowing with charged energy.

“Don’t think about it, Tennessee Whiskey,” Stark said, his voice smooth but laced with warning. "I've got a fully loaded, billionaire-funded, arc reactor-powered hand cannon pointed at your ugly SWAT helmet, and trust me, you won’t like what happens next."

Walker gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching around his shield’s grip, but he didn’t advance. He knew better than to test Stark when he was already pissed off.

Fury, still sitting on the ground, let out a gravelly chuckle, spitting a bit of blood to the side before he extended a hand toward Steve.

"Nice right hook, Rogers."

Steve glared at him for a moment before gripping Fury’s forearm and pulling him to his feet, his expression deadly serious.

"Captain," Fury said, brushing off his coat, "I take it that punch means you don’t approve of the operation here?"

Steve didn’t even blink. "No, Fury. This is detestable. I won’t condone human experiments of such brutality—even by SHIELD."

Fury exhaled, rolling his jaw as he dabbed at the blood beneath his nose. "Cap, Cap. This is just Homeland Security. Sometimes you have to get dirty to deal with the dirtier."

Steve’s fist clenched around his shield, his knuckles white against the vibranium edge. "Your agents are dead, Fury."

The smirk on Fury’s face faded. His good eye darkened slightly, and for the first time since he walked in, there was a flicker of something almost… regretful. "Yes," he admitted, his voice lower. "That was a terrible oversight. You can rest assured we’re doing the best we can to ensure their families are compensated, and this won’t happen again."

Steve’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding against each other. "It better not, Fury. It better not, because if I have to hear ‘Kill me’ come from a tortured man suffering inside a machine again—I will come and end this myself."

The room went dead silent.

Fury nodded slowly, brushing the dust off his coat. "Duly noted, Captain." He turned toward the unconscious scientist still slumped against the wall. "Doctor, you’ve been a dirty man. Nobody asked you to do this."

The scientist, still in a dazed state, muttered something incoherent before his head lolled forward.

"I didn't," Adler mumbled. "We put inhibitors in their brains. It was—"

"Enough talking," Fury cut him off sharply, before turning toward Walker. "USAgent, arrest this man."

Walker didn't hesitate. He strode forward, fist clenched, then slugged Adler across the jaw, knocking him out cold again before hoisting his unconscious body over his shoulder.

Walker looked back at Steve, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Bet it felt great doing it the first time, Cap."

Steve didn’t react.

Walker shifted the weight of Adler’s body, already cuffed, and stepped back toward Fury.

"What are you doing with him, Fury?" Steve asked, his voice like stone.

Fury straightened his coat. "We’re taking him into custody, by the book. We’ll get to the bottom of this. This wasn’t supposed to happen."

"You weren’t aware of this?" Steve asked, narrowing his eyes.

Fury’s expression didn’t change. "Not at the scope of present operations, no."

Steve’s fingers tightened against his shield. "Fury, don’t lie to me."

Fury met his gaze, unreadable as always. "I’m not, Rogers. I’m wiser than that." He exhaled. "This was meant to further our understanding of bio-mechanical hybrids. That’s all."

"Fury, this ends here." Steve’s voice was low, unwavering.

Fury gave a small, tired shrug. "I promise, no more putting brains in robots to suffer."

Steve’s eyes burned into him. "This isn’t a joke, Fury."

Fury finally sighed, waving a dismissive hand. "Relax, Rogers. We’ll handle it from here. Avengers—" He glanced toward the team, smirking. "You’re dismissed."

Steve’s fingers curled at his sides, his muscles rigid as steel.

"We’ll talk, Fury." He turned toward his team, his voice steady, "Avengers, let’s move."

As the team started toward the exit, Walker’s voice rang out, dripping with amusement.

"See you around, Avengers."

Steve didn’t turn back.

He just kept walking, his shield heavy on his back, as they left the nightmare behind.

The roar of the Quinjet’s engines hummed low and steady against the tarmac, a mechanical beast waiting to ferry the Avengers to their next fight. The high noon sun glinted off its dark exterior, reflecting the gathered SHIELD operatives working to secure the scene behind them.

As Steve Rogers and his team emerged from the facility, the air was thick with the scent of scorched metal, burned circuits, and the unmistakable chemical residue of energy weapons. Even outside, the weight of what they had just witnessed pressed heavy on their shoulders.

Captain Marvel, Black Widow, and Hawkeye stood waiting at the Quinjet’s open ramp.

Carol Danvers, clad in her red, blue, and gold uniform, arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable behind the gleam of her golden sash. Natasha Romanoff’s icy green eyes flicked over the team, taking them in with the same efficiency she’d use to scan a battlefield. Hawkeye—Clint Barton—chewed absently on a toothpick, his casual stance at odds with the sharpness of his gaze, taking in every detail.

Tony Stark was the first to break the silence.

“Good of you to come pick us up, Nat.” He quipped, shaking off the dust from his armor’s shoulder plates, his helmet retracting with a soft hiss. "I was beginning to think I'd have to hitchhike back to civilization. Not like I could fly or something."

Natasha smirked slightly but said nothing, her attention shifting to Steve.

Carol Danvers took a step forward, her brows furrowed slightly as she assessed the tension radiating from the group. “What do you got, Steve?”

Steve took a breath, his jaw still tight from the confrontation with Fury. He met Carol’s gaze with the grim resolve of a soldier who had just seen something that shouldn't exist.

“SHIELD was using AIM personnel to build robots using human brains.” The words hit the air like a hammer, stark and unfiltered.

There was a heavy pause.

Carol’s golden glow flickered briefly around her fingers before she clenched her fist, forcing it back down. “That’s… very disturbing.” Her voice was controlled, but the edge of disgust was unmistakable.

Natasha, ever unreadable, simply exhaled sharply, her eyes darting toward Clint.

Clint let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Damn. That’s a whole new level of screwed up.”

Tony, running a hand through his dust-covered hair, shrugged with mock exasperation. “Oh, you know. Just your standard government-funded mad science experiment gone wrong. Very HYDRA-like behavior.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but the way his eyes darkened behind the joke made it clear how serious he was.

Natasha’s fingers twitched at her side. “Did Fury show up?”

Steve nodded once, his expression grim. “Yeah. With Walker.”

At that, Carol’s posture stiffened slightly. “And?”

“He said he would handle it.” Steve’s voice was neutral, but the lack of conviction behind it spoke volumes.

Carol arched a brow, but it was Natasha who asked the next question, her voice sharp and to the point.

“Do you trust him?”

Steve hesitated for only a fraction of a second before answering.

“No.”

That one word hung in the air like a live wire.

Tony sighed, running a gloved hand over his face, smearing some dust across his cheek. “Which is why we’re heading to Houston.”

Clint tilted his head, popping the toothpick from his mouth and flicking it away. “Texas, huh? And here I thought we were done with cowboy problems after dealing with Walker.”

“BBQ, anyone?” Tony asked, ever the opportunist, a cocky smirk creeping onto his lips.

Janet rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “You know what? I’m actually in. Haven’t had good Texas brisket in a while.”

Carol, however, wasn’t smiling. “Where’s Thor and Hulk?”

Natasha turned to her. “Thor had to handle a problem in Asgard. Some Frost Giant nonsense. He apologizes—said he’d be back by the end of the day.”

“Understood.” Steve nodded. "Hopefully, it doesn't escalate."

But then Carol’s expression hardened as she reached into her suit’s side pouch and handed Steve a tablet.

“Also, about Houston. There’s something you might want to know.”

Steve took the tablet, his brow furrowing as he tapped the screen, and a live news broadcast flickered to life.

"This morning, protests erupted all over Houston as new information surfaced regarding Carraro Security’s alleged involvement with the extremist anti-mutant organization, the Friends of Humanity."

"The revelation spread rapidly across social media, triggering mass demonstrations outside City Hall by mutant rights activists."

"However, just hours later, counter-protests by anti-mutant factions emerged miles away. Tensions between the groups have escalated throughout the morning, with eyewitness reports indicating that the situation has devolved into full-blown riots across the city. Law enforcement officials are currently struggling to maintain order, as looters and opportunistic gang violence have compounded the crisis.”

"The Governor has reportedly considered deploying the National Guard to quell the violence, though no official decision has been announced yet—"

The video abruptly cut out.

Steve exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the tablet.

Carol crossed her arms. “Mutants.” The way she said it wasn’t an accusation—it was a statement of fact, tinged with something unspoken.

Steve’s jaw tightened further. “Carol, not now.”

She gave a slight nod, not pushing further.

Natasha, however, was already thinking two steps ahead. “Who do we have on the ground?”

“The Rangers.” Steve replied immediately.

Carol tilted her head slightly. “Still active?”

“Always.”

The Rangers were your usual SHIELD backed, Avengers trusted, regional superhero team,a registered, loosely affiliated group of enhanced individuals operating out of American Southwest.

Natasha’s brows raised slightly. “Who’s leading them these days?”

Steve let out a small breath, almost smirking despite the situation.

“Texas Twister.”

Carol sighed, shaking her head. “Of course it’s Texas Twister.”

Tony clapped his hands together, grinning. “Ah, yes. The human tornado. That guy is way too into the whole cowboy thing.”

"Says the guy who tried to make a repulsor-powered mechanical horse once," Janet deadpanned.

Tony held up a finger. “First of all, that was science.”

Steve ignored the banter, already moving toward the Quinjet’s ramp. “Tony, call Twister. I need to talk to him.”

Stark gave a mock salute as he tapped into his suit’s holo-interface. “Ok, let me see... hmmm... Daredevil, Captain Britain, Guardian, Mr. Fantastic, Namor...”

Wasp rolled her eyes "Yuck"

"Can you go faster Tony, don't you have a search option?" Sam snorted.

"Sentry... Aha! Texas Twister"

As the Quinjet’s engines roared to life, Steve stepped aboard, his expression unreadable. The weight of the mission ahead pressed heavy on his shoulders, but he wasn’t about to let Houston burn—not today.

The Quinjet's holographic display flickered as the call connected, and suddenly, the familiar face of Drew Daniels—Texas Twister—appeared on the screen. His thick blonde mustache curled slightly, a signature part of his rugged cowboy aesthetic. The brim of his pristine white cowboy hat cast a shadow over the blue mask that covered his eyes, giving him a look that was equal parts classic Texan lawman and seasoned superhero. His voice carried the warm twang of the South, a tone polite yet firm, ever the image of a man who took his responsibilities seriously.

"Howdy, Captain America," Daniels greeted, tipping his hat slightly with a knowing grin. "It's a pleasure to see ya."

Steve, arms crossed over his broad chest, nodded respectfully. "Pleasure is mutual, Daniels."

Daniels leaned in slightly, his blue-gloved hands resting on what looked like the control panel of his own aircraft. "How can the Rangers help ya, sir?"

"Are you in Texas?" Steve asked, already bracing for a response he wouldn't like.

Daniels hesitated briefly, adjusting the angle of his hat before shaking his head. "I reckon we ain't, Cap. We’re in Arizona right now—there’s been some real bad business with cartels down here. Nasty stuff involving some kinda proliferation of Sentinel tech. We’re handlin’ it as we speak."

Still, Cap focused on the problem at hand. "Have you seen what's going down in Houston?"

Daniels' expression turned serious, the easy-going drawl in his voice losing some of its lightheartedness. "We heard, sir, but we’re mighty busy out West. Ain't much we can do right now."

Steve sighed, running a hand over jaw in frustration. The Rangers were a valuable team, but they couldn’t be everywhere at once.

"Do you have any men on the ground?" he asked.

Daniels seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. "Well, the kid is there."

Steve frowned slightly, tilting his head. "Kid? What kid?"

Daniels smirked faintly. "The Alamo, sir."

The room went silent for half a second before Carol Danvers groaned audibly, crossing her arms over her chest. Her frustration was palpable.

"Another mutant maverick," she muttered under her breath, her tone heavy with disinterest.

Tony Stark, standing beside her, smirked as his helmet retracted with a metallic hiss, exposing his smug expression. "Carol, that’s not very politically correct of you."

Carol turned to him with a sharp glare. "Cry about it, Stark."

Tony grinned. "I would, but I think my emotional range doesn’t allow it."

Steve ignored the exchange, keeping his focus on the screen. "Thank you for the heads-up, Daniels."

Daniels gave a slight, respectful nod. "It ain't nothin', Cap. Rangers are here to help, y'know that."

Steve exhaled through his nose, knowing there wasn’t much more they could ask of them right now. "Good luck in Arizona."

"And good luck in Texas, Cap." With that, Texas Twister’s image flickered out, leaving only the mission briefing on the screen.

There was a beat of silence before Carol scoffed, shaking her head. "We’re really doing this?"

Steve turned to face her, already sensing the incoming argument. "Carol?"

Carol’s blue eyes were sharp, her lips pressed into a tight line. "I’d rather not, really. Mutant issues are none of my concern, especially if the X-Men and their little pet absorber shows up."

That last remark earned her a few pointed looks. Sam Wilson’s jaw tensed slightly, but it was Janet Van Dyne who spoke first.

"Carol, that’s—" Janet started.

Steve cut her off with a firm look. "Carol, more respect, please."

Carol turned to him fully now, and for a moment, her usual confidence seemed to darken into something colder. She took a step closer, her tone lower but brimming with something raw. "Try being in a coma for three months and almost losing all your memories forever, Captain."

Steve didn’t break eye contact. He understood the weight of what she meant—what Rogue had done to her all those years ago. The trauma of that event had been imprinted in her very being, and no amount of diplomacy could erase it.

Still, this wasn’t about that. This was about Houston, about people who needed help.

Carol must have realized that too, because she sighed heavily, rolling her shoulders back as if physically shaking the conversation off. "Forget it. I’ve got other things to do."

She turned on her heel. "I’ll head out to meet with Ms. Marvel and the young ones, train them a bit. Meet you back here later."

Steve watched her go, exhaling slightly once she disappeared down the ramp.

Natasha Romanoff stepped forward next, arms still crossed. "What about us?"

Steve turned to her and Clint. "Nat, Clint—I’ll need you two to stay here. Keep an eye on SHIELD, monitor satellite feeds, and watch for anything unusual. If anything escalates, notify us immediately."

Clint gave a lazy salute, ever the laid-back soldier. "Got it, Cap."

Natasha nodded, her expression unreadable but focused. "Understood."

With that, Carol, Natasha, and Clint stepped off the Quinjet, their figures disappearing into the busy SHIELD airstrip.

Steve turned back to the remaining team, rolling his shoulders back.

"Avengers, looks like we’re going south."

The hatch of the Quinjet sealed shut behind them, the engines roaring louder as the aircraft began its ascent. The next stop—Houston, Texas. And whatever chaos awaited them there.