Steve Rogers stormed into the Triskellion like a guy who had just been told they were out of coffee—eyes wide, shoulders tense, moving with that kind of urgency that suggested the world might end if he didn't make it to Nick Fury in time. He had received Fury's summons, and after one too many cryptic messages, Steve was starting to feel like he was in one of those spy movies where the main character gets a mysterious phone call that just screams, "This is going to be bad." He was right.
He punched open the door to Fury's office with the kind of force that could've sent a lesser man flying. Fury, leaning back in his chair, wasn't fazed. The guy had probably dealt with worse.
"You called, Fury?" Steve asked, voice steady, though there was a hint of "I'm-hoping-this-isn't-another-world-ending-thing" laced in.
Fury just gave him a nod—slow, deliberate, the kind of nod that made Steve feel like he was walking into a lion's den with a steak tied around his neck. "Got something for you, Rogers. And trust me, it ain't your usual Tuesday briefing. Follow me."
Steve followed him with his usual purpose, every step making him wonder what kind of mess he was about to step into. Fury led him through the narrow hallways, turning corners like he was the one who'd lived here his whole life. Steve tried to read his expression, but it was like staring at a brick wall that had been given a permanent poker face.
When they finally stopped in front of a secured cell, Steve's stomach did a flip. There was a man lying inside. A man with a metal arm.
For a moment, everything went silent. Steve's heart skipped—not the kind of skipping where you're getting ready to dance, but the kind where you realize the world just might end in the next five seconds.
He took one step forward. Then another. His breath hitched, but he didn't care. The man in the cell was someone Steve never thought he'd see again.
"Bucky…" His voice cracked as the name left his mouth. He wasn't sure if he was talking to the man in front of him or talking to the ghost of his past that had haunted him for years.
Steve's hand reached out instinctively, as if it could cross the gap between the man in front of him and the one he'd left behind, but he stopped himself before the bars of the cell could touch. His chest tightened. It couldn't be. Not him. Not like this.
Fury's silence was a thick presence behind him, and Steve finally turned to face the man who was looking at him like Steve had just discovered the plot to the world's worst horror movie. Fury's eye gleamed with something Steve couldn't quite read—regret, maybe, or determination. He couldn't tell. The only thing he knew for sure was that Fury was bracing himself for the storm.
Steve turned back to Bucky, still unsure if he was dreaming. "How is this even possible?" Steve asked, his voice a rough whisper.
Fury sighed, sounding like he had been holding in the answer for too long. "Long story short? During a mission to catch Alexander Pierce, we found out some ugly truths. Real ugly. Turns out, your best friend here got turned into HYDRA's personal weapon. They've been brainwashing him for decades."
Steve's world tilted. Bucky—his best friend, his partner in crime—had become the Winter Soldier? The man he had fought beside in war, the guy who had shared every laugh, every battle… gone? Steve's stomach churned, and his fists clenched.
"You're saying... he's been out there—" Steve's throat tightened, "...killing people, following orders like a machine?"
Fury nodded, looking pissed as he watched Steve process the news. "That's about the size of it. Brainwashed, reprogrammed, kept on ice by HYDRA for decades. But here's where it gets interesting..." Fury leaned in, as if about to reveal the ultimate twist in the story. "Harry got through to him. He broke the programming. Saw the real Bucky Barnes under all that… crap."
Steve blinked. "Harry?"
"Yeah, kid's got some tricks. Managed to crack through the mental programming that had Bucky tied up tighter than a drum." Fury's voice dropped to a quieter tone, the seriousness of it almost too much to bear. "He saw the man Bucky used to be—the one you knew. Not the machine."
Steve took in a deep breath, his mind racing a thousand miles a minute. "So, we can help him. We can get him back." It wasn't a question. It was a demand.
Fury's lips pressed into a thin line, but there was something about the way he held himself that said, "Don't get your hopes up too high." "We're gonna try, Steve. But this? This is a different kind of battle. One we've never had to fight before."
Steve nodded, resolute. "We'll get him back. No matter what it takes."
At that moment, Clint Barton—who had been lurking in the background like the world's least patient wallflower—finally spoke up, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So, let me get this straight. We've got Bucky, brainwashed into a super assassin for decades, and now he's out here, looking like the world's most unfortunate pet project?"
Steve gave Clint a sideways glance. "It's not like that."
Clint shrugged, popping a piece of gum in his mouth like he hadn't just dropped a bombshell. "Sure it is. And what's Harry doing in all this? Breaking mental programming like he's got a magic wand or something?"
"Well, technically, yes," Steve replied, giving him a pointed look. "He's pretty much a walking mental chiropractor."
Clint raised an eyebrow. "So we've got magic wands now? Can I get one of those?"
Steve didn't even dignify that with a response. Instead, he turned back to Bucky, all his focus sharpening into a single, unwavering line of determination. "We get Bucky back. We do whatever it takes."
Fury crossed his arms, eyeing the two of them like a cat about to make a very careful decision about whether or not to scratch. "Yeah, you two keep talking about saving your friend. But when the real fight comes, don't think I won't have your back."
Clint made a face, half-exasperated, half-amused. "Well, look who's suddenly all warm and fuzzy. Don't go getting too sentimental on us, Fury."
Fury shot Clint a glare that could've melted steel. "You'd be lucky to see me get sentimental. Now, stop making jokes and start making plans, Barton."
Steve couldn't help but smirk at the banter. The world was falling apart around them, but somehow, standing there with Fury, Clint, and the unconscious Bucky in front of him, it felt like they had a fighting chance. A small one, but a chance nonetheless.
"Alright," Steve said, his voice strong and steady. "Let's bring him home."
—
Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, and Nick Fury swaggered into the room like a trio of badasses on a mission—though if you asked Clint, he'd probably call it a "highly classified, not-quite-legal operation." Whatever it was, it was definitely intense. Fury's game face was on, which was the opposite of a good sign. Natasha and Harry were already standing, looking like they had just been through a round of interrogations by their favorite bad guys. And believe me, they weren't exactly smiling.
Steve's eyes landed on Harry first, and there was something in them—some mix of gratitude, exhaustion, and, well, just a little bit of guilt. He stepped forward, his Captain America stride doing that thing where it somehow looked both casual and like he was about to go into combat. Maybe that was just how Steve walked. I'm not sure.
"Harry," Steve said, his voice soft enough to make you think he might have just learned to read for the first time. His hand clapped down on Harry's shoulder like it was the most important thing he'd ever touched. "Thank you—for everything."
Harry, ever the humble guy, gave Steve a look that could've said "I was just doing my job" but instead said something like "Well, yeah, it's me, and I don't need any more hero worship, thank you very much."
"Eh, no problem," Harry replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk that could've burned a hole in the air. "It was the right thing to do. Bucky deserves a shot at getting his life back."
Steve was probably considering hugging him, but, you know, manly captain stuff—he settled for a fist bump instead. But then Fury, who could kill any mood like a ninja with a katana, stepped in and wiped away any lingering warm fuzzies.
"We're not out of the woods yet," Fury said, his gravelly voice cutting through the moment like a chainsaw through butter. "Now that we've got the Winter Soldier neutralized, we've got a fighting chance against HYDRA. But don't get comfy, kids. HYDRA's still got a few tricks up their sleeve. And they're not the 'clown in a magic hat' kind of tricks. We're talking big stakes here."
Harry adjusted his posture, taking a deep breath that was just shy of dramatic. "The things HYDRA did to Bucky..." he began, his voice deepening to a level that suggested either a serious history lesson or the opening of a very sad chapter in a true crime documentary. "They've practically shattered his psyche. They turned him into a weapon, and now he's trying to crawl his way back from that. It's not going to be quick, but he's still in there. Somewhere."
Steve's eyes darkened, a storm cloud forming in the perfect blue sky that was his usual demeanor. He was all "I'm Captain America, I'm always smiling, I'm here to make speeches about hope," but the way his jaw tightened told a different story. A story that involved some deep personal fury that he was keeping tightly locked down.
"We'll do whatever it takes to help him," Steve said, his voice steely but resolute. And, okay, if I'm being honest, he could have been reading a cereal box and I would've still found it motivational. There's just something about Steve's vibe that's like, "Yeah, I'll go fight aliens with you, and I'll do it with a smile on my face. Probably."
Natasha, meanwhile, was standing there, nodding with the kind of focus you only see in people who've already killed half a dozen guys while wearing heels. "We're in this together," she added, her voice like she had already mentally broken down the plan to take down HYDRA, including exit routes and Plan B's just in case things went sideways. "We won't rest until Bucky is free."
Clint, ever the king of dry wit, added with a smirk, "Yeah, let's make sure we save the soldier and not the HYDRA agent this time. Got a lot of that going around, don't we?"
The room chuckled, but only a little. Tension was still thick enough to chew on. But, because he was Harry, and Harry wasn't afraid of making things awkward in the best possible way, he dropped the hammer.
"The death of Tony's parents?" Harry started, his tone suddenly colder than an ice cube in a deep freezer. "Wasn't just a tragic accident. It was an assassination—HYDRA-approved—and the Winter Soldier pulled the trigger."
Silence. Complete and utter silence. As in, everyone in the room forgot how to breathe for a solid five seconds. Steve's expression was a mixture of anger and pure disbelief. Clint had the sort of "someone just told me my dog had been secretly running a crime syndicate" face. Natasha's brows furrowed like someone had just challenged her to a chess match that could end world peace.
Fury's voice was tight, like he was forcing the words out. "We always knew HYDRA had its fingers in all sorts of pies, but this? This is beyond the usual level of messed-up."
Steve's hands curled into fists at his sides, the knuckles going white as a paper. He looked like he was trying not to punch a hole in the wall—probably because he could. "This goes deeper than we thought," Steve muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "HYDRA will pay for this."
Clint, who's usually the one making quips and cracking jokes, sounded dead serious now. "We'll make them pay for everything. For Tony's parents, for Bucky, for the lives they've destroyed." He paused, looking directly at Fury. "And for all the messed-up crap they've put us through."
Fury's face was carved out of granite, his jaw tight as he weighed everything going on. "Tony can't know about this. Not yet," Fury said, his voice dropping into the level of "no room for argument." "He's got enough to deal with. This would put him on a warpath, and we can't afford that right now."
Steve's gaze didn't waver. "With all due respect, Director," he said, his voice still calm but carrying the weight of someone who'd just learned something huge, "Tony deserves to know the truth. We can't keep him in the dark about this. Not when it's connected to his parents. Keeping secrets like that could drive a wedge between us."
Fury's eyes narrowed, though you could tell he was considering it. "I hear you," he said, voice softer now but still sharp. "But this team is hanging by a thread as it is. We can't afford any cracks."
Steve looked right back at him, unwavering. "Then we'll patch it up. But Tony deserves to know."
And just like that, the air in the room became electrified. This wasn't just about Bucky anymore. It was about every damn secret HYDRA had buried over the years. And it was about to come crashing down.
—
The room was thick with tension—like one of those high-stakes meetings in spy movies where everyone knows something's about to explode, but no one knows exactly what. And then Harry, who could've been mistaken for a grumpy cat dropped the most savage truth bomb of the century.
"Listen, Steve's right," Harry said, cutting through the air like a sword through butter—if that sword was actually a lightsaber and the butter was made of bad guys' bad decisions. "Tony deserves to know the truth about what happened to his parents. Keeping him in the dark? That's just like letting HYDRA's lies breed like some fungus you forgot to clean off your pizza."
Fury shot him a look that could've melted steel, but Harry didn't flinch. He knew Fury's "don't-you-dare-make-this-my-problem" face well. "HYDRA's lies have poisoned everything they've touched. Tony's gotta know what happened. He deserves the whole truth, not some half-baked version that leaves more holes than Swiss cheese."
Clint raised an eyebrow from his spot in the corner, his arms crossed in that classic "I'm watching a trainwreck and I don't even care" stance. "Whoa, slow down there, Harry," Clint said, leaning back casually. "You're making this sound like some super-spy drama. Not saying I'm not in, but maybe we can get Tony a private screening of 'HYDRA's Greatest Hits' later, yeah?"
Harry grinned at Clint, rolling his eyes. "You'd want popcorn with that, huh?" he shot back, and Clint smirked, as if Harry had just handed him the perfect quip.
Steve, ever the Captain, stepped forward, his voice steady as a drumbeat. "We're not talking about some Netflix binge session here, Clint," Steve said, giving the archer a pointed look. "We're talking about Tony's parents, and about how HYDRA's been pulling the strings for way too long. It's time for that curtain to fall."
Harry looked at Steve, their shared resolve hanging between them like an invisible thread. "Exactly. It's time to break the fourth wall. The truth will set us free, and all that jazz." He leaned forward, locking eyes with Fury, who was trying his best to look unbothered, but you could see the gears grinding behind that steely stare.
Fury's jaw tightened, like he was chewing on a handful of nails. "I'm not happy about this," he grumbled, "but I get it. Tony's gonna lose it when he hears this, but he deserves to know. If he doesn't, then we're just playing HYDRA's game. And I'm done playing games with them."
Harry let out a low whistle. "Well, that was almost poetic, Fury. Are you sure you're not moonlighting as a motivational speaker?"
Fury just shot him a look that could've killed a thousand villains in one go. "Don't push it, Potter," he warned, but there was a hint of approval in his voice. "But yeah, you're right. Tony's been through hell. If we're gonna hit him with the truth, it better be done right."
Clint raised his hand like he was in class. "So, who gets to break it to Tony? You know, for the record, I am available to do it. I'm pretty sure I'm the best at delivering terrible news with style."
"Not you," Steve said quickly. "You'd probably make it sound like a comedy routine."
Clint smirked, as if Steve had just handed him a challenge. "Oh, I don't know. I think I could make it sound like a fun surprise party. Balloons, confetti, the whole nine yards."
"You're a special kind of guy, Clint," Natasha said dryly from the side, her arms crossed with the kind of casual danger that made you wonder how often she made people disappear. "But maybe we don't go for the circus approach on this one."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we'll save the party hats for another day," he said, eyes glinting as he looked back at Fury. "So, the question is: when do we tell Tony? Because I'm pretty sure we're running out of time before HYDRA realizes we know what they did."
Fury sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like he'd just been hit with the world's most annoying migraine. "I'll handle it," he said, sounding like a man who had already rehearsed this conversation a dozen times in his head. "But it stays between us. We deal with this quietly, no drama, and definitely no press conferences."
"Yeah, we don't need Tony breaking into full-on rage mode right out of the gate," Clint quipped. "That's a whole 'nother can of worms."
Steve was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, before his voice broke the stillness. "This isn't just about Tony," he said softly. "It's about making sure we take down HYDRA for good. We tell him the truth, and we use it to bring them down. We'll take them out from the inside out."
Harry's gaze hardened, the fire of determination in his eyes flaring up once again. "HYDRA's about to realize they just poked the wrong hornet's nest," he said, his voice a promise of devastation. "This time, there's no escape."
As the words settled in the room, everyone straightened, knowing that they weren't just talking about saving the world. They were talking about saving a man's soul—and making sure the worst criminals in the world didn't have a place to hide anymore.
"Alright," Fury said, snapping back into his usual, no-nonsense attitude. "Let's get to work. We've got a Hydra to kill."
Clint gave a slow, satisfied smile, and Harry just cracked his knuckles, a grin stretching across his face. The Avengers were ready. And the truth? It was about to set everything in motion.
They were about to make some noise.
And it was going to be epic.
—
The next morning, Harry found himself seated at the long table in Avengers Tower, surrounded by the usual suspects: Steve, Natasha, Clint, Fury, and of course, the man of the hour, Tony Stark. The atmosphere was about as lively as a cemetery in a horror movie. Everyone was on edge, and Harry had to admit, he wasn't exactly feeling like the guy who was about to hand out free tickets to Disney World. No, this felt more like the person tasked with delivering bad news—except the news was really bad.
Tony walked in like he'd just been dragged through a mud puddle, looking for all the world like a grumpy genius who had just discovered that his favorite coffee machine had been tampered with. "Okay," he said, tossing his hands up as he surveyed the room. "What's going on? Did someone break my suit again? Did Clint make another joke about my hair? Seriously, it's not that bad."
Clint, who had been staring at his phone like he was reading the latest edition of "How to Annoy Tony Stark 101," shot back without missing a beat. "I wasn't making fun of your hair, Tony. I was making fun of your inability to keep a decent hairstyle for more than a week."
Tony gave Clint a sidelong glance that was equal parts confused and intrigued. "How does that even—wait, you know what, forget it. Just... what's going on?"
Steve stepped forward like he was gearing up for a fight, but this time, it wasn't against aliens or super soldiers—it was something way worse: honesty. "Tony, we need to talk. About your parents."
That did the trick. Tony's cocky grin faltered for a second. His eyebrows knitted together, trying to figure out if Steve had just said something serious. "What about them?" he asked, now a little less Tony Stark and a lot more... concerned Stark. "Did you find a new way to bring them back from the dead or something? I'd be down for that, but let's not get ahead of ourselves."
Harry knew there was no soft way to break this, so he just took a deep breath and dived in. "Tony, we found out that your parents' deaths... weren't an accident. It was a hit by HYDRA."
Tony blinked a few times, like he'd just been told that water wasn't wet. His face slowly drained of color, and for a split second, Harry wondered if he was about to pass out. "What?" Tony asked, the word barely a whisper as his fists clenched. "How do you know this?"
Fury, who had been standing there like a statue, suddenly turned into the human embodiment of a courtroom speech. "We dug through files from our investigation into Alexander Pierce," he said, voice flat but serious. "HYDRA was involved in your parents' deaths. And the one who did it? The Winter Soldier."
Tony's jaw practically hit the floor. The words Winter Soldier hung in the air like a bad smell you couldn't get rid of. He whipped his head towards Harry, his gaze so sharp it could cut glass. "And you knew about this?" he demanded, his voice rising with each syllable.
"Yeah, I found out just a day ago," Harry said, shrugging like he was talking about the weather. "But, you know, saving the world, stopping evil organizations, hanging out with a bunch of superpowered weirdos—it kind of slipped my mind. Totally my bad."
Tony's glare could've melted steel, but Harry wasn't about to back down. He'd faced far worse. "The Winter Soldier is Bucky Barnes, Steve's old friend. He was brainwashed. HYDRA turned him into a weapon. He didn't get a choice."
Clint, who had been watching the scene unfold like he was witnessing a very intense episode of a reality show, chimed in from the corner. "Yeah, Tony, believe it or not, Bucky's a victim in this too. You think the guy wanted to kill your parents? No one ever asked him. Except, you know, the people who basically made him into a walking murder machine."
Tony's face twitched, and Harry swore he could almost hear the gears in his head turning. This was way beyond anything the genius billionaire could've prepared for.
Steve stepped in next, looking like he'd just swallowed a cannonball. "I only learned the full truth recently. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't have all the facts. I didn't want to hurt you without knowing the whole story."
Tony, who had been stewing in his own anger, finally seemed to process everything. "So," he muttered, "it wasn't just some random tragedy. It was planned. It was HYDRA. And Bucky."
There was a beat of silence—an awkward, crushing silence, the kind that filled the room like a giant balloon that nobody wanted to pop. Finally, Tony spoke, his voice tight with rage and something else—betrayal, maybe. "And you're telling me this now? After all this time?"
"Look," Natasha said, stepping forward with the cool, calm demeanor that made her the most dangerous person in any room, "we're not trying to hurt you more, Tony. But you needed to know the truth. Bucky's a victim. He's being helped, but you had to know. And that's not going to change what HYDRA did. They're still responsible. We're still going to make them pay for it."
Tony stood there, fists clenched, his whole body vibrating with the anger that was bubbling just below the surface. "HYDRA," he growled. "They think they can get away with this? They think they can kill my parents, twist everything around, and then just... fade into the shadows? No. That's not how this ends."
Steve, ever the soldier, gave him a determined nod. "We're in this together, Tony. We'll make them pay. For everything."
The tension in the room snapped, and suddenly the air was crackling with the kind of resolve that only comes when a group of people realize they have no choice but to fight together. HYDRA had messed with the wrong family, and they were about to find out what happened when you poked the bear one too many times.
"Alright then," Tony said, straightening up, the fire in his eyes reigniting. "Let's get to work."
And just like that, the Avengers weren't just a team anymore. They were a mission—a mission to bring HYDRA to its knees, no matter the cost.
—
The Avengers were gathered in the conference room like a bunch of superheroes plotting their next big heist—except this time, the heist was blowing up a few HYDRA hideouts, and the stakes were a lot higher than "steal the last slice of pizza." Fury, of course, looked like he was about to give a speech that would motivate an army, but he was too much of a pro to let it show.
"Alright, people," Fury said, sounding like he just ate a lemon for breakfast. "We've made progress, but there's still a lot of HYDRA left to clean up. They've got a few key players still in play, and we're going to put an end to it."
"Yeah," Clint chimed in, tapping the map like it owed him money. "We've got enough of these guys to make a serious dent, but a few of these places are gonna make our jobs feel like trying to kill a hydra with a butter knife."
Tony, looking like someone just told him there's a new iPhone, leaned forward with his usual mix of casual confidence and barely-contained excitement. "So what's the plan? You know, besides me saving the world—again—and looking good doing it?"
Fury nodded at the map, all business. "First stop, Siberia. Natasha's got a hot lead on a HYDRA facility rumored to be producing enhanced soldiers. And trust me, these aren't the kind of soldiers you just slap in the face and call it a day."
Natasha, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, pointed to the location on the map like it was already under her skin. "They're making them like assembly line products. Cut that off, and it'll deal a huge blow to their operations."
Clint snorted. "Right. Because nothing says 'we're in trouble' like a bunch of guys in snowsuits trying to fight off an Avengers team. It's Siberia. They'll be frozen before they even know it."
Harry, who had been quietly considering his options like he was in some magical version of a choose-your-own-adventure book, finally spoke up. "Siberia it is. I mean, when else do you get the chance to cause a little mayhem in the world's largest freezer? Plus, magic's got me covered for the stealth part. I'll make sure they don't even know I'm there until it's too late."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sure, just don't bring back any frostbite or weird magical creatures. I'm pretty sure the last time we dealt with that, we had to hire a new cleaning crew for the tower."
"I'll be fine, Stark," Harry shot back, offering a grin that could be described as "deadly charming" if you were into that sort of thing. "But if you really want to help, you could send me a few of those drones you've been playing with. I'm sure they'd make great distractions."
Tony didn't need to be told twice. "Done. You'll have the world's best tech at your disposal. Just don't use it to build a snowman or something. I've got a reputation to maintain."
Steve, who had been mostly silent up until now, cleared his throat. It wasn't exactly a sound that meant "I'm about to say something profound," but it might as well have been. "So, we're all set for this. Let's just remember—this is HYDRA. They don't give up easily. We're not just going to walk in and take them down."
"You mean we're not going to waltz in with a bunch of roses and cake?" Clint quipped, deadpan as always. "Lame. I was hoping to hit them with a 'You've been served' surprise party."
"You always do," Natasha said, not missing a beat. "It's your best move."
Tony shot her a grin. "If sarcasm could kill, Clint would be their secret weapon."
Fury nodded gravely, giving everyone the typical "get ready for action" vibe. "Next up, South America. We've got a lab down there working on weapons that are straight out of a bad sci-fi flick. Think of it as Tony Stark's nightmare, but with fewer lasers and more… weird, unethical experimentation."
"Great," Tony said, tapping his foot like he was already calculating how he was going to break it all down in the most efficient way possible. "That's my kind of mess. JARVIS, you ready to make their tech look like scrap metal?"
JARVIS's voice, smooth as ever, replied from the speakers. "Always, sir. I'll handle the hacking, and you handle the… explosions. It's a perfect partnership."
"Perfect, huh?" Clint muttered. "If I had a nickel for every time someone said that and then ended up in a crater…"
"Yeah, yeah, Clint," Steve said, rubbing his temples. "Can we just focus on the plan? We've got work to do."
"Of course, Cap," Clint said with a grin. "But I'm just saying, one good explosion and I'm the hero, right? Just remember to send a thank-you card when this is all over."
Steve sighed, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just make sure we get to the hero part first."
With that, the team split off to gear up for their respective missions. The room buzzed with a sense of urgency, but also that strange, comforting vibe that only comes when you know you're about to face something dangerous with people you trust.
HYDRA had made a mistake thinking they could outsmart the Avengers. And now? Well, now the Avengers were about to return the favor, and it was going to get ugly—ugly in a way that only superheroes could make it.
"Alright, team," Steve said, voice low but steady. "Let's show HYDRA what happens when you mess with the wrong people."
And with that, they headed out. The bad guys wouldn't know what hit them—unless they were lucky enough to read the memo that said, "Don't mess with Earth's mightiest heroes."
---
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