The air in the Hydra command center was tense, the hum of machines and quiet chatter of officers filling the dimly lit room. Johann Schmidt, the Red Skull, stood before a large digital display, his sharp features illuminated in the cold light. The images before him told a story of devastation, the likes of which Hydra had never encountered before.
Hydra's mountain base, their pride and fortress, was in ruins. The steel walls were shattered, scorched, and crumpled as if they had been crushed by a force far beyond their capacity to withstand. Most of the personnel stationed there had been wiped out, and the Tesseract, Hydra's greatest asset was gone. But the destruction was not just from some attack, it was something different.
The reports that filtered in were fragmented, but one thing was clear: there was no sign of any surviving attackers. Nothing. The base had been hit, its defenses crumpled like paper, and then, just as quickly, the assailants vanished. The terror and destruction they left behind were absolute. And Schmidt knew there was only one possible explanation.
His mind immediately flashed back to the encounter he had seen from a distance, a warrior in gleaming golden armor, standing amidst the wreckage where Captain America had fought. Schmidt had seen this figure, this golden warrior, briefly, when he had observed Captain America's battle. The figure had intervened, saving his adversary. Who was this? And why had he been watching the battlefield?
As Schmidt stood, his red-gloved hand clenched into a fist, his mind raced. Who could do this? Hydra's greatest minds and weapons had been unable to prevent this. It was no ordinary soldier who had attacked. No ordinary force could have left their base in such ruin. The force that struck Hydra's command center was something... beyond anything Hydra had ever faced before.
His breath slowed as he paced in front of the screen. "This... gold warrior..." Schmidt muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "What power does he wield?"
One of his senior officers, pale and visibly shaken, approached him cautiously. "My lord, there's... there's nothing left of the base. All of the key personnel were there, no survivors. The Tesseract, the data, everything is gone."
"Everything?" Schmidt snapped, his voice colder than steel. "Everything is gone? And yet, no sign of the enemy? Are we supposed to believe this... this gold warrior just left without a trace?"
"We don't know, sir," the officer replied, his voice wavering. "The base is completely destroyed. No bodies, no equipment, just the wreckage. We've been unable to track any movements outside of the facility either."
Schmidt's thoughts flickered back to the brief glimpse of the warrior he had seen. His armor was unlike anything he had ever seen, sleek, golden, but with a design that suggested precision and strength. The warrior had moved with supernatural grace, leaving Hydra's forces helpless.
"Enough!" Schmidt's voice rose, the command center falling silent at once. "This... this could not have been the work of mere soldiers. This was something else. Someone else."
He turned sharply, his crimson mask gleaming in the dim light. "Prepare my transport. I want every report on this... warrior. This gold figure. And gather all surviving units who were stationed outside the base, those few who were lucky enough to escape. We need to track down this... threat."
The officer nodded, hurriedly making his way to the control panels, his fingers dancing over the buttons. Schmidt's mind churned as he thought of the warrior, the gold figure that had appeared in the battle. Could this be some new breed of soldier? A power unlike anything Hydra had faced before?
As he turned away, a chilling thought crossed his mind, had this "golden warrior" been sent by someone else? Was this warrior a harbinger of something far greater than what they had anticipated?
Elsewhere, in Hydra's underground bunker, a few elite soldiers had been stationed for reconnaissance. They had been on a separate mission and had not been present during the attack. They had been lucky.
One of them, a seasoned soldier named Lieutenant Weber, stood in front of his team. His face was grim as he reviewed the scattered reports. He could hardly believe the damage caused by the mysterious assailants.
"Hydra's stronghold... destroyed. And not a single survivor from inside. I never thought I'd see the day," Weber said, his voice low and filled with disbelief. He clenched his fists. "We were lucky. We weren't there when it happened."
Another soldier, his voice tense, asked, "What do we do now, sir?"
Weber sighed, his eyes scanning the room. "We fight back. If this 'golden warrior' is part of something bigger, we need to find out what it is. We cannot let Hydra fall. Not like this."
Schmidt's words echoed in his mind as he thought of the gold warrior. "If Hydra wants to survive this, we'll need to prepare for something we've never faced before."