In the long silence, Peter reached out and gently patted Tony's shoulder.
"Tony, I understand how you feel. But you must face a hard truth: Bucky isn't the real murderer. He was just a weapon—brainwashed, controlled, and stripped of his autonomy by Hydra.
The ones we should truly hate are those who wielded the weapon. Those Hydra bastards are the ones we need to erase from existence."
Tony snapped his head up, his piercing eyes locking onto Peter's. He seemed to be searching for a hidden agenda—trying to see if Peter was being sincere or if he was simply trying to keep Captain America as a powerful piece on the chessboard.
Peter didn't offer a lengthy defense. He simply met Tony's gaze with calm, steady eyes, filled with nothing but earnestness and resolve.
Finally, Tony looked away. He took several deep breaths before masking his emotions with his usual public persona of arrogance.
"I've seen more of the world than you have, kid. If a brat like you can understand that logic, do you really think I don't?"
He took a massive swig of wine, then turned a fierce glare toward Steve Rogers.
"Popsicle, let's get one thing straight. I know the difference between a killer and a tool. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let the tool that murdered my father hang around me.
So, from now on, keep that son of a bitch as far away from me as possible!"
Tony's words were harsh, but Steve didn't show a hint of resentment. In his heart, the Captain knew Bucky was technically in the wrong.
The fact that Peter and Tony were willing to spare his life was already an act of immense generosity. He had no right to play the moralist and demand they treat his old friend as an equal comrade-in-arms.
"I understand," Steve said, stepping forward to give a deep, formal bow to both Peter and Tony.
"On behalf of Bucky, I thank you for your mercy. When I see him, I will make sure he apologizes to you both. It is a debt he owes; he must atone for what he was forced to do."
"Then..." Peter looked between the two. "Are you ready? I think it's time for some payback."
Peter glanced out the window at the night sky. It was a dark, windy night—perfect for a silent, systematic purging of the Hydra parasites.
Tony didn't need to be asked twice. He stepped into the Mark III armor immediately. Steve, however, looked a bit awkward; he had neither his suit nor his shield.
"Use this for now," Tony grunted, tossing a metal disc he usually used to prop up a wobbly table in the lab.
It was one of Howard Stark's early attempts to replicate the Vibranium alloy shield—a failure in terms of the specific vibration-absorbing properties, but still an incredibly durable, high-grade alloy.
It wasn't the "Infinite Defense" shield, but for a night of raiding, it would suffice.
With the shield in hand, Steve's entire aura shifted back into that of the Super Soldier.
"Avengers," Peter declared, "Move out!"
The three of them streaked away from the Stark estate. To accommodate Steve, Peter lent him a flying hoverboard while he himself took to the sky in the high-speed Hurricane Style of the Wizard Driver.
Six minutes later, they arrived at the secret base where Felicia was "held." This was Hydra's primary secondary hub in New York, outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ.
They didn't even stop to formulate a plan. Tactical planning is for when the odds are even; when you have overwhelming power and an inside mole, the only plan you need is a frontal assault.
BOOM!
Tony's palm thrusters blew the alloy gates off their hinges. Peter activated his Byakugan, flicking out marble-sized chakra bullets to disable every alarm and camera in the facility within seconds.
Behind the iron doors, the Hydra agents—completely relaxed because they had never faced an intrusion—didn't even have time to reach for their radios.
Steve's shield whistled through the air, its sharp edge opening a sentry's throat before returning to his hand.
The trio moved through the base like wolves among sheep. Hydra agents died in a blur of motion, often before they realized they were under attack.
Despite their speed, the sheer violence of the assault eventually alerted the base leadership. Two agents burst into the office of the leader, "Crossbones," their voices trembling.
"Commander! The Director is here! He's broken in with Steve Rogers and Iron Man!"
The agents expected Crossbones to panic or call Alexander Pierce. Instead, "Crossbones" simply let out a wicked, feminine smirk.
"Is that so? Thank you for bringing me such important news."
Puchi! Puchi!
The two agents looked down to see water-blue spikes protruding from their chests. They looked up in disbelief at their trusted leader, only to realize "Crossbones" was shifting—revealing the form of Tide.
Tide flicked the blood off her hands and turned to the figure lingering in the shadows. "Congrats, One-Arm. Time for a happy reunion with your boyfriend."
Five minutes later, the base was cleared. With Peter's team attacking from the outside and Tide, Bucky, and Felicia acting from within, the resistance was nonexistent.
They converged in the hallway outside the main office. The moment they met, Felicia lunged into Peter's arms. Peter caught her, spinning her around once before setting her down gently.
The sheer, saccharine sweetness of the moment made Steve and Bucky—who had been about to go for their own emotional "bro-hug"—freeze awkwardly in place.
Somehow, seeing Peter and Felicia be that romantic made a hug between two old soldiers feel... a bit too "intimate" by comparison.
"Bucky..." Steve whispered, his voice cracking. Bucky's frozen, icy expression softened for the first time in seventy years.
Before they could speak, a cold huff came from the side.
Tony, still in his armor, didn't look at Bucky. He turned his head toward Peter and snapped impatiently: "Alright, Peter, that's enough. We can finish the 'lovey-dovey' routine after we finish wiping out the rest of the Hydra trash!"
Peter: "..."
Wow, Tony. Pointing at the mulberry tree to curse the locust—I see you've mastered the art of the indirect insult.
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