The Savior of American Comics? I'm the Subspace Evil God!

Chapters 589, 1094, and 1095: That damned Daily Bugle!

"Huh? Captain, if you're going to be so uncooperative, don't blame me for being impolite..."

Seeing that Captain America was just staring at him coldly and showed no sign of submission, a hint of ferocity flashed across Brock Rumlow's face. He suddenly raised his right foot and kicked Captain America hard in the back of the knee.

boom!
Captain America groaned, and his right leg involuntarily buckled to his knees.

The other two fierce agents immediately stepped forward, roughly twisting Captain America's arms behind his back and pressing his neck and back with their knees, forcibly pinning him to the cold, rough asphalt.

Captain America's face was pressed against the ground, and he could even clearly smell the pungent gunpowder residue left from the bullet casings fired not far away.

Brock Rumlow grinned maliciously, leaned close to Captain America's ear, and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear:

"Captain, please don't blame me. You have to understand, this isn't a personal grudge. I was just following orders... But to be honest, I've wanted to do this for a long, damn long time!!"

As he spoke, his right hand, seemingly casually hanging at his side, had actually been quietly unfastening the holster on his waist, his fingers reaching for the grip of his sidearm.

Clearly, he intended to take advantage of the current human wall blocking the way and deliberately create an accident where 'Captain America resisted arrest and was shot dead on the spot'!

However, just as Brock Rumlow secretly pressed a pistol against Captain America's head, preparing for a close-range execution, he suddenly heard the roar of a helicopter rotor overhead.

buzzing-

Brock Rumlow and his agents looked up and saw a brightly painted white helicopter hovering a dozen meters above their heads.

Most importantly, the huge logo on the fuselage gleamed in the sunlight—it was none other than the logo of the Daily Bugle!

"Damn it! Why aren't those annoying flies from the Daily Bugle staying put in New York? What are they doing in Washington, D.C.?!"

Brock Rumlow's face instantly turned incredibly ugly, as if he had swallowed a fly whole. He cursed viciously in the direction of the Daily Bugle helicopter, then discreetly and reluctantly put his pistol back into its holster.

There was no other way. If it were any other media outlet, he could have simply ordered them to leave, or used S.H.I.E.L.D. technology to block their filming, then quickly 'deal with' Captain America and fabricate a perfect report.

But the Daily Bugle is different...

First of all, the new cameras used by this newspaper are so powerful that even the super electromagnetic pulse released by the female MUTO cannot destroy them, so their shielding devices are completely ineffective.

Furthermore, the background of its editor-in-chief, John Jameson, is unfathomable, and even Nick Fury, that vengeful one-eyed man, is helpless against him.

Who can blame them when they have the world's largest conglomerate, Asia Space Group, standing right behind them?

Even the current Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross, is a guest of honor at his establishment.

Therefore, facing the cameras of the Daily Bugle right now, Brock Rumlow simply doesn't have the guts to openly kill someone to cover it up; otherwise, he would become public enemy number five minutes later.

Brock Rumlow believed that even if Alexander Pierce knew, he would never allow him to do so.

“Fu*k, Fu*k, Fu*k!!!”

Brock Rumlow had to forcefully suppress his murderous intent and agitation, abandoning his idea of ​​killing Captain America on the spot, and reluctantly gave a wink to one of his subordinates beside him.

The agent immediately understood, pulled out a heavy pair of handcuffs, and with a 'click,' skillfully cuffed Captain America's hands, which were tied behind his back.

Brock Rumlow slowly straightened up, composed himself, adopted a businesslike and serious tone, took the megaphone from his subordinate, and deliberately spoke loudly:

"Steve Rogers, by direct orders from Acting Director Alexander Pierce of S.H.I.E.L.D., you are now formally arrested on suspicion of murdering S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury, as well as multiple felonies including endangering national security, resisting arrest, and assaulting law enforcement officers!"

"You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law... Take him away!"

Without giving Captain America any chance to explain, the two agents roughly lifted him off the ground and shoved him into the back seat of one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. SUVs.

Brock Rumlow glanced coldly at the Daily Bugle news helicopter still circling overhead, spat viciously, and then turned and got into another car.

The convoy restarted, sirens blaring, and sped away from the devastated battlefield, heading towards the new S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in downtown Washington, D.C.

Only the burning wreckage of the vehicles, the shell casings scattered everywhere, and the corpses of numerous assassins remained, silently telling the story of what had just happened.

……

[S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters].

In the director's office, outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows that occupy three walls, lies the magnificent yet orderly skyline of Washington, D.C.

Sunlight, filtered through special glass, is transformed into a soft, less glaring halo that lacks warmth, casting its glow onto the gleaming floor.

The air inside was stagnant, filled with the smoke of expensive cigars and a heavy, oppressive aura emanating from those in positions of power.

Alexander Pierce sat behind his desk, not wearing his usual sharp suit, but a casual dark gray shirt with the collar slightly open and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing a muscular wrist that seemed a little older than his age and an expensive watch.

He had a Cuban cigar dangling from his mouth, the red flame at the tip flickering, mirroring the surging ferocity in his eyes.

His gaze, sharp as a knife, fell upon Hitville across the desk, as if he were contemplating whether or not to execute the 'traitor' before him.

Hitwell had long lost his usual shrewdness and composure.

His signature bald head was now covered in fine beads of sweat, which gleamed oily under the light above.

His obese body trembled slightly, and the back of his suit was soaked with dark sweat. His hands were nervously twisted in front of him, and his knuckles were white from the force.

Facing Alexander Pierce's gaze, he suddenly felt like a frog being watched by a venomous snake, and even breathing became difficult. "Sir, you must believe me!"

Due to extreme tension, Sitwell's voice was clearly very dry and trembled noticeably. "My loyalty to the organization is as clear as day. I was born a Hydra, and I will die a Hydra... How could I possibly betray you and the organization!"

With his life hanging by a thread, he uttered these words almost in a sob, then began to speak rapidly in his defense, trying to grasp at the last straw:
"It was Captain Rogers and his crew. I don't know how they found out about me on the Star of Lemuria... It might even be a backup plan left by Nick Fury... They conspired with that damned 'Ant-Man 2' Scott Lang, and actually kidnapped me to the rooftop for interrogation in front of everyone..."

"Get to the point!" Alexander Pierce clearly had no patience for the other's rambling and abruptly interrupted Hitwell. Although his voice wasn't loud, it instantly choked the latter's words, forcing him to swallow them back.

Throughout this process, Alexander Pierce didn't make any significant movements, merely taking the cigar away from his mouth and lightly flicking off the ash. However, the impatience and scrutiny in his eyes sent a chill down the spine of Sitwell across from him.

"Yes, yes, get to the point..."

Hitwell swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, and continued in a slightly trembling voice:

"Captain Rogers and his team not only knew I was on the [Star of Lemuria], and the general framework of [Project Insight], they... they even knew about Dr. Anim Zola's existence!!"

He stole glances at Alexander Pierce's reaction, and seeing what seemed like an extremely subtle flicker in the man's unfathomable eyes, he immediately seized upon it as an opportunity to prove his innocence, and hurriedly added:
"I was terrified. I knew this was a matter of life and death for the organization, and it absolutely could not be exposed!"

"So I had a sudden inspiration and decided to pin it all on that damned Nick Fury... I said that he orchestrated everything in secret to eliminate his rivals, for his own ulterior motives!"

After speaking, Hitter held his breath, his heart pounding, anxiously awaiting the final judgment.

Alexander Pierce didn't rush to speak. He simply put the cigar back in his mouth, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled thick white smoke.

Smoke swirled around him, obscuring his seemingly calm but actually turbulent face.

He leaned back slightly in the wide leather chair, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the smooth tabletop, making a soft 'tap, tap, tap' sound.

The sound was exceptionally clear in the quiet office, each one like a blow to Hitwell's nerves.

Alexander Pierce was weighing the truth of what Hitwell had just said.

The other party's argument doesn't sound impossible.

Although Nick Fury's fate is still unknown, it's possible that he has secretly contacted Captain America and the others... Even if they haven't, it's perfectly reasonable for him to have some backup plans.

Captain America, on the other hand, has an almost foolish trust in Nick Fury, and being led by clues to point the finger at matters related to "Project Insight" is consistent with his character.

"so……"

Alexander Pierce finally spoke again, his voice steady and unreadable. He slightly raised his eyelids, his gaze piercing through the smoke to land on Sitwell's face opposite him. "They believed it?"

This is a crucial question, not only concerning Sitwell's life or death, but also Hydra's next critical decision.

Feeling like he had escaped a disaster, Hitwell's heart nearly leaped out of his chest. He quickly forced an almost obsequious smile and said nervously, "Not everyone believes me... Agent Romanov is very skeptical of my statement."

"But the important thing is that Captain Rogers has clearly believed it, otherwise he would never have insisted on bringing me to S.H.I.E.L.D. to 'surrender' despite Agent Romanov's advice!"

"Sir, that idiot actually came to see you in person this time, and to persuade you to stop this insane plan 'led' by Nick Fury!!"

“Hmm?” Alexander Pierce’s eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly upon hearing this, as if he had genuinely become interested. “You mean… he was originally going to come to S.H.I.E.L.D. to confess to me?”

Thinking about it carefully, this does seem like something Captain America would do: naive, stubborn, and believing in so-called 'procedural justice' and 'high-level communication'.

“Absolutely true, sir!”

Seeing Alexander Pierce's tone soften again, Hitwell felt a glimmer of hope and straightened his back unconsciously, his tone becoming more resolute, "He believes you've been misled by Nick Fury, even though Agent Romanov advised him it might be a trap, he wouldn't listen!"

Alexander Pierce fell silent, took another deep drag on his cigar, and the smoke slowly masked the last trace of ferocity in his eyes.

He leaned back in his chair, seemingly processing the information and assessing its authenticity and usability.

The office fell into a suffocating silence once again, broken only by the faint crackling of burning cigars and the pounding of Hitterville's tense heartbeat.

Hitwell secretly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, frantically praying that his half-hearted performance would successfully fool everyone.

He felt that the back of his shirt was completely soaked, clinging tightly to his skin, cold and sticky.

Just then, the specially encrypted black satellite phone that Alexander Pierce had placed on the table suddenly vibrated, breaking the suffocating silence in the office.

Alexander Pierce glanced at the caller ID, pressed the answer button, and asked with a hint of annoyance at being interrupted, "Rumlow, how's it going?"

Brock Rumlow's voice immediately came from the other end of the phone, "Sir, we've run into a bit of trouble... We haven't been able to find an opportunity to execute Steve Rogers along the way!"

"What did you say?"

Alexander Pierce's voice instantly turned cold, and he roared angrily, "Are you all fucking useless? How can you not even do something this simple? No wonder Hydra's unification has been delayed all these years; it's all because you bunch of useless trash!"

"Um, sir, please calm down..."

Brock Rumlow, on the other end of the phone, explained with obvious frustration: "The Daily Bugle's news helicopters have been following our convoy the whole way. They're flying so low and close, their camera lenses are practically in our faces... We have absolutely no chance to make a move."

"If we were to take action in front of their cameras, the consequences would be..."

Brock Rumlow didn't continue, but his meaning was clear enough.

(End of this chapter)