"Huh?"
Huang Wen's brow furrowed, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face. For a split second, his consciousness hit a wall—a dense, vibrating barrier that felt eerily familiar. It reminded him of the psychic-dampening properties of Magneto's iconic helmet, designed specifically to turn a telepath's brain into static.
But Huang Wen wasn't just any telepath. His divine sense had already begun to touch the boundaries of the epic level, a realm far beyond the reach of standard mutant technology or mortal engineering. This wasn't the real Magneto's helmet; it was a crude imitation, a "lite" version designed to fool lesser sensors.
With a mental grunt, Huang Wen's perception surged forward like a tidal wave crashing through a rotting pier. Pfft! The mental resistance shattered. His internal vision flooded the dark interior of the chest, and for a moment, his heart actually skipped a beat.
Inside the metal shell sat a massive, translucent block of ancient glacial ice. And frozen within that ice, looking as if he were merely taking a very cold nap, was a man whose face was etched into the very soul of American history.
"Are you kidding me? The Captain?!" Huang Wen's eyes widened, his usual composure momentarily slipping. "How the hell did he end up in a shipping crate in Jersey?"
A wave of confusion washed over him. The timeline was officially a mess. In his memory of the 'scripts' of this world, Steve Rogers was supposed to be recovered by SHIELD in a massive, high-budget operation. If he'd been found, he should be in a top-secret medical wing in the Triskelion, surrounded by monitors and high-ranking agents. Instead, he was sitting on a dirty dock next to a pile of illegal cargo.
"Master? You look like you've seen a ghost," Jack noted, leaning in. He couldn't see through the metal, but he could read Huang Wen's face. "Is there actually a body in there? Without air? Whoever it is must be a popsicle by now."
"There's someone in there, alright," Huang Wen replied, regaining his cool and offering a small, mysterious smirk. "And calling him 'famous' would be the understatement of the century. I'm taking him back to the base immediately. This is way above a police pay grade."
He turned to the group. "Peter, Huang Liang, you're with me. As for the rest of you..."
"I'm in! I have to see who's worth a gold-titanium coffin!" Zhong Qiang shouted, practically jumping to his feet.
"Count me in too," Reese Fisk added, his curiosity getting the better of his professional stoicism. "If it's someone the Master is surprised by, it's worth the trip."
Jack rolled his eyes, a look of profound betrayal crossing his face as he glared at his "loyal" teammates. "Oh, sure, leave the cop to do the paperwork. Real nice, guys. Real professional."
Deep down, Jack was dying to go. He wanted to see the mystery guest more than any of them, but someone had to stay. The dock was crawling with terrified, sedated kids who needed protection. He couldn't trust the average beat cop not to mess up the crime scene or, worse, mistreat the victims.
"Don't worry, Jack. Once we get things settled, I'll swing back and pick you up," Huang Wen said, giving the detective a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Nah, don't bother, Sir," Jack sighed, looking at the sheer volume of crates. "Between the immigration office and the statements, I'm going to be buried in files for days. Just... send me a video or something. Don't let the kid spoil the surprise before I see it."
Huang Wen nodded, respecting Jack's sense of duty. With a wave of his hand, the massive metal chest, along with Peter, Huang Liang, Zhong Qiang, and Reese, were enveloped in a blinding golden radiance. In the blink of an eye, the pier was empty, save for Jack and the unconscious traffickers.
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit office at SHIELD headquarters, a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours stared at a decrypted message on his screen. Nick Fury's single eye narrowed, a vein throbbing in his forehead.
"The shipment was intercepted. Jack Sherman's unit hit the dock. Everything is compromised. The asset is in his custody."
"What?!" Fury roared, his fist slamming onto the mahogany desk with enough force to crack the wood.
Ever since the reports came in about the discovery of the crash site in the Arctic, Fury had been operating in the shadows. He hadn't even told Tony Stark about his findings. He had bypassed the World Security Council and even ignored his own top-tier agents. He wanted Steve Rogers back, but he wanted him untainted by the bureaucracy of modern SHIELD—which he suspected was riddled with Hydra rot.
His plan had been a masterpiece of illegal logistics. He'd "disappeared" the discovery team, scrubbed the satellite footage, and hired a specialized group of 'off-the-books' transporters to move the Captain in a stealth-shielded container. He figured that if he brought the Captain through the front door of SHIELD, Hydra would have him assassinated or brainwashed before he could even blink.
But he hadn't counted on the transporters being greedy. They had tried to double-dip, filling the rest of the ship with human trafficking cargo to maximize their profit. And that greed had led them straight into the path of the one person Nick Fury feared more than Hydra: Huang Wen's "investigation" team.
"It's fine... it's fine," Fury muttered, pacing the room like a caged tiger. "The chest is a marvel of engineering. It's secondary Adamantium and lead. Even if they have it, they won't be able to open it without a plasma cutter and twelve hours of work. I have time to negotiate a recovery..."
Then, a horrifying thought hit him. He stopped dead in his tracks.
"Wait. Jack Sherman works for that kid. If Jack can't open it, he'll call Huang Wen. And if Huang Wen wants that box open..." Fury's face paled. "God help us. Did the Captain just get kidnapped by a kung-fu master?"
Back at Base One, the atmosphere was electric. The massive metal chest sat in the center of the training hall, looking like a high-tech altar.
"Alright, let's see what's under the hood," Huang Wen said.
He didn't want to waste time with tools. He reached into the void, and with a shimmering hum, the Wushuang (Unique) Sword appeared in his hand. The blade vibrated with a sharp, eager energy. Ever since its defeat at the hands of the souped-up Cyclops, the sword had been restored and felt hungrier than ever.
Huang Wen focused his telekinetic grip, guiding the blade with the precision of a laser. Snap! The sword lunged. It bit into the outermost layer of Gold-Titanium with a satisfying screech, carving through the alloy like a hot knife through wax. The middle layer of lead offered no resistance at all, peeling away in gray ribbons.
"See? Nothing can stop the Master's—" Zhong Qiang started to cheer, but the sound died in his throat.
CRACK!
A sound like a lightning strike echoed through the hall. The Wushuang Sword hadn't just stopped; it had hit a literal wall of physical impossibility. The blade, which had been moving at supersonic speeds, buckled. A spiderweb of fractures raced up the steel, and then, with a sickening explosion of shards, the legendary weapon shattered.
"No!" Huang Wen hissed.
Reacting with god-like speed, he threw out a net of telekinetic force, catching the fragments before they could scatter. Most importantly, he wrapped his power around the 'Sword Heart'—the spiritual essence of the blade—and shoved the remnants into his system space to prevent the soul of the weapon from dissipating.
"The outer shell was a distraction," the Silly Girl's voice echoed through the room, sounding uncharacteristically apologetic. "I apologize, Master. My initial scan was suppressed by the lead lining. Beneath the titanium is a two-inch thick plate of Secondary Adamantium alloy. It is a non-magnetic, high-density variant of the metal found in Logan's skeleton. While not as indestructible as the primary version, its sheer hardness exceeds the current structural integrity of the Wushuang Sword."
Huang Wen stared at the chest, a deep sense of frustration bubbling in his chest. He had been careless. He had been so focused on the psychic-blocking material that he'd ignored the physical density of the inner plating.
"My fault," Huang Wen muttered, his voice low and dangerous. "I should have known Fury wouldn't just use standard metal for a prize like this."
He looked at the tiny scratch his sword had managed to leave on the Adamantium. It was barely a scuff. The Wushuang Sword, a weapon that had served him through countless battles, was now a pile of broken glass because he'd underestimated a box.