At Garrett’s command, seven elite Hydra operatives, led by his adopted son Grant Ward, flipped down their helmet night-vision gear in unison.
A second later, an explosion detonated outside the truck, sending a chorus of cursing echoing through the cab.
After blowing out the truck’s headlights with two shots, Philip had tossed aside the double-barreled shotgun.
He first dropped low into nearby cover.
Then, from behind cover, Philip hurled a horn-shaped powder flask into the air and shot it mid-flight with a revolver he had bought years ago purely for show.
The black powder detonated with a thunderous crack louder than a flashbang, creating a blinding flash of light against the pitch-black night.
Every single Hydra agent was caught off guard.
Nick Fury definitely hadn’t taken kickbacks on this gear—these night-vision optics were far too sensitive.
“Lock the doors!
The cab is bulletproof!” Though temporarily blinded, Garrett kept his head and roared orders immediately.
Unfortunately, he knew nothing of true speed.
Years ago, on that full-moon night when a near-Great Ape Little Broly broke several of his ribs, Philip’s Strength, Agility, and Constitution stats had shot up to 30 all at once.
Over the years, through hunting, training, and sparring with Little Broly to burn off the boy’s endless energy, Philip’s three stats had climbed close to 50.
Without exaggeration, if not for Nikolai and his sons being present—and his desire to teach Broly by example not to rely on brute force or make things unnecessarily gory—Philip could have punched through the truck’s elongated hood and shoved the engine directly into the cab.
Even holding back, while the Hydra agents were blinded by the flash, Philip sprinted to the truck’s door at a speed far exceeding an Olympic sprinter.
Jamming his wrist into the door just as it was being pulled shut, Philip offered his warm greetings to the occupants inside.
“Surprise, motherfucker!” Greeting them along with his voice was the revolver raised in his other hand.
His fingers pulled the trigger in a lightning-fast blur, merging the gunshots into a single roar.
The remaining five rounds emptied from the cylinder, instantly shattering the heads of five Hydra agents.
Though still unable to see clearly, Garrett instantly grabbed one of his surviving men, dragging him in front as a shield.
Without giving a damn about friendly fire, he raised his submachine gun toward the general direction of the door and squeezed the trigger.
*Rat-tat-tat!* As a Level 8 SHIELD agent and senior Hydra military commander, Garrett’s instincts were ruthlessly decisive.
Yet his burst struck nothing but thin air.
The moment his revolver was empty, Philip had ducked beneath the heavy truck, reloading six fresh rounds into the cylinder with practiced ease.
The instant Garrett emptied his magazine, Philip emerged on the driver’s side of the truck and slammed his fist right into the cab window.
With a loud *crack*, the window shattered under his blow.
Philip then fired into the cab, taking out Garrett and the sole remaining, terrified agent.
*Fuck…
Nick Fury actually embezzled the money for the bulletproof windows too…* Before the bullet tore through his brain and consciousness faded, Garrett’s final thought was still cursing their director.
At this moment, the phrase “worker’s resentment” seemed almost physically manifested.
Little did he know that the broken window really had been military-grade bulletproof glass—it had shattered simply because Philip possessed absurd, superhuman strength.
Having eliminated the squad of Hydra agents, Philip extended his perception to feel their rapidly fading Ki—a habit formed while hunting to guard against dying beasts’ final desperate attacks.
However, upon spreading his Ki sense, Philip discovered a strangely distinct aura lingering within the truck’s rear cargo bay.
This Ki was extremely faint, so much so that Philip, hyper-focused on the fight, hadn’t picked it up right away.
Yet despite flickering like a candle in the wind, it burned with an unmistakable, unyielding tenacity.
*This is definitely no ordinary person.* Judging as much, Philip holstered his revolver.
Against an opponent like this, the revolver’s caliber likely wouldn’t cut it if a real fight broke out.
Philip gathered Ki inside his body, arms slightly bent, ready to unleash Vegeta’s signature technique on whoever was hiding inside the cargo hold.
In the end, however, the “Prince’s Volley” proved unnecessary.
Cautiously swinging open the cargo bay doors, he saw only a soldier still sound asleep.
The soldier was encased solid in block ice, with only a few air holes left for breathing.
“No wonder the Ki felt so strange—weak, yet unbreakable.
So it’s the man who can ‘do this all day.'” Philip realized with a flash of understanding.
At that very moment, as the cargo hold doors swung open, a signal registered at The Triskelion in Washington, D.C.
“I knew it!
Having a Plan B is always the right call!” Having waited for hours, SHIELD Director Nick Fury cheered inwardly when the GPS location signal finally popped up.
To be honest, he had been moments away from pulling out his long-treasured pager to make an “interstellar long-distance call” for help.
After all, finding Captain America alive in the Arctic Circle only to lose such an iconic figure mid-transit was an emotional roller coaster.
Such wild swings of hope and dread were enough to spike any normal man’s blood pressure through the roof—let alone a bald one like Fury.
Calming his nerves, the SHIELD Director turned to his most trusted subordinate, Phil Coulson, who had been sitting in the office waiting with him for hours.
“Coulson, the micro-GPS the recovery team slipped into the Captain’s body just pinged.
The signal that was jammed earlier is back—we’ve relocated the Captain after losing him in transit.
I want you to go retrieve him immediately, by any means necessary…” As a massive Captain America superfan, hearing that the mission was to rescue his idol, Coulson was ready to sprint for the helipad on the spot.
However, Nick Fury called him back with a few specific warnings.
“…Bringing the Captain back as soon as possible is top priority.
Investigating who stole him can wait until he’s safe.
“Furthermore, after prolonged stasis, waking up abruptly could cause memory loss or mental disorientation.
“And if someone managed to brainwash him—if that happens, you are authorized to use non-lethal force on the Captain.” Coulson caught the director’s concern, his expression turning solemn, but he gave a heavy, firm nod.
“Don’t worry, Director.
I’ll bring our Captain home,” he promised Fury.