Part 4: Contact
Final Corrected Version – Surface Facility Edition
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Location: Hydra Black Site – Bavarian Alps, Surface-Level Transport Hangar (Sublevel B1 entrance)
Wanda was the first to speak.
> "He's here."
Her voice trembled.
The team stood on the scorched concrete floor of a Hydra transport bay — wide enough for trucks, armored carriers, and emergency helijets. The walls were scorched. Blood splattered the shutter doors. Something had torn through this place.
Sam hovered overhead, wings steady in the updraft of mountain wind, scanning the site.
> "Visual confirmation of entry point breach," he said over comms. "Someone's been through here already — not clean. Violent."
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The strike team advanced through the half-open blast doors into Sublevel B1, a corridor of reinforced steel that dropped slightly underground but kept high ceilings and emergency floodlights.
They moved fast:
Steve, Wanda, Tony, Natasha, Logan, Vision, Cyclops, Jean, and Sam dropping through the roof aperture.
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The smell hit first.
Blood. Metal. Burnt flesh.
Dozens of bodies. Torn open. Mangled beyond recognition.
Vision hovered.
> "No life signs in this wing. All personnel — terminated."
Not executed.
Torn apart.
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Then—
They saw him.
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Riven Dax.
Twenty-one. Tall. Lean. Toji-like — all angles and scars and presence.
His chest was bare, bruised, cut, smeared with blood.
His pants were shredded, his body marked by years of torture.
And behind him—
Children.
Human. Mutant. Wide-eyed. Silent.
Clutching at him.
The smallest girl held his hand.
They didn't run to the Avengers.
They hid behind him.
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Steve stepped forward, slow and measured.
> "We're not your enemy."
Riven's jaw clenched. His eyes flicked to Sam overhead, to Tony's armor, to Scott's visor, to Logan's claws—
Weapons. Uniforms. Power.
He'd seen it all before.
And it always meant pain.
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The little girl clung tighter to his leg.
And something inside him snapped.
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The fight began.
Riven moved like a spring uncoiled — fast, not elegant, but lethal.
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Captain America raised his shield—
Too late.
CRACK—!
Riven slammed into it.
Steve's arms rocked back, the blow driving him into the bulkhead.
Riven spun low and delivered an elbow to Steve's ribs, then a hook to the jaw. The shield deflected the force, but Steve staggered, teeth gritted.
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Natasha rushed from the flank — twin batons aimed for a takedown.
Riven pivoted—
Caught one wrist mid-strike, reversed it, and threw her shoulder-first into a support pillar.
She rolled with the blow, twisting to her feet.
> "He's got training," she snapped.
"Not street — field. Military maybe."
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Logan came in next, snarling.
Claws slashed—
Riven took the cut to the side, blood spilling.
He didn't back down.
He caught Logan's forearm, redirected his weight, and headbutted him twice before driving a knee into his sternum.
Logan stumbled.
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From above, Sam dove, wings outstretched.
> "Back off, man!"
He launched a flash pellet.
Riven didn't dodge.
He charged through it, eyes burning, and leapt — tackled Sam mid-air, using his own momentum to slam them both into the floor.
Sam gasped.
Riven didn't linger.
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Iron Man hovered just feet away.
> "You really don't want to test this armor—"
Riven ripped a steel pipe from the wall and hurled it at Tony's head. The impact made him falter mid-flight. Riven leapt and punched directly into his arc core, staggering the suit.
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Vision phased through the ceiling, calm and passive.
> "Please. Stand down. We mean you no—"
Riven spun, eyes blazing.
He threw a piece of rebar — it passed harmlessly through Vision's intangible body.
But Vision flinched.
> "...He calculated where I'd phase... That's not instinct."
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Cyclops fired.
The red beam tore down the hallway—
Riven rolled beneath it — a graze burned his arm. He let out a snarl and hurled a chunk of debris at Scott's visor.
It shattered on contact, but Scott had already ducked.
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Jean and Wanda moved next.
They touched his mind.
They both recoiled.
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Inside his thoughts:
Cages.
Electrodes.
Screams.
A child held up by her hair, burned alive.
Riven, strapped to a table, forced to watch.
> "Show us what breaks you," one Hydra doctor had said.
> "Make it useful."
They did.
For four years.
He wasn't free now.
He was just cornered.
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Riven backed up slowly, arm bleeding, leg shaking.
He stood between the children and the "heroes."
He knew what was coming.
The sedation in his bloodstream was fading — but it still slowed him down.
He was tired.
So tired.
But he still managed to say:
> "You're not taking them."
> "Not again."
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His knees buckled.
He hit the ground.
Tried to crawl.
One hand reached forward.
> "Don't…"
> "Please…"
> "They'll… kill them…"
Blood coughed from his mouth.
He looked up through one blurred eye.
> "I tried…"
A single tear slipped down his cheek.
> "I tried to stop them…"
Then he sobbed — quiet, hoarse, breaking apart in front of them.
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The children didn't move.
Not at first.
Then one stepped forward.
Then two.
Then the smallest girl knelt beside him and whispered:
> "He saved us…"
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Wanda looked at Natasha.
Jean looked at Logan.
No one spoke.
Not until Steve finally said it:
> "He wasn't trying to escape."
> "He was making sure no one else was left behind."
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