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Chapter 17: Berlin Echoes
Location: Berlin, Germany
Time: 8:47 PM
Snow drifted over the rooftops of the old city, cloaking the steel and concrete in a hush that didn't match the tension crackling just beneath it.
Hann stood on the roof of an old train station, cloaked in black, his hood drawn. The rings on his right hand glowed dimly, like coals beneath ash. To his left, Lwazi knelt, gloved fingers pressed to his temple, his breath forming soft plumes in the air.
"You good?" Hann asked.
Lwazi nodded, but his jaw was tight. "They're down there. Six of them. All armed. One has thoughts soaked in blood—he's done this before."
Hann raised a brow. "You reading surface thoughts already?"
Lwazi gave a weak grin. "Trying not to drown in them, but yeah. Feels like I'm... syncing better."
Below them, a former Soviet-era lab, now converted into a safehouse, pulsed with ghost activity. Hann had tracked a signal here—energy residue tied to Chitauri tech, believed to be in Hydra's possession. Berlin was just the latest dot on the map.
But what they didn't expect was who was running the operation.
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Inside the Lab
The corridor stank of ozone and rust. Machines lined the walls—some broken, others active. Screens displayed biometric scans, weapon schematics, and fragments of alien blueprints.
A man in a pale overcoat paced inside. His voice echoed in German.
"Ziehen Sie das Fragment aus dem Gehäuse. Schnell! Wir haben nicht viel Zeit."
He was lean, pale, with small burns on his temple and strange mechanical veins running up his arms. A former Hydra scientist turned opportunist—Dr. Emil Richter.
He turned to a cylindrical vault. Inside floated a Chitauri neural core, still active.
Unbeknownst to him, above the facility, two shadows descended.
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Infiltration
Hann landed silently, staff in hand, already scanning with the ring's latent energy. Lwazi followed, hood drawn up. The psychic's eyes flickered with a subtle violet hue.
"You take the west wing. I'll draw their attention in the main chamber," Hann said.
"I've never done this in real life," Lwazi muttered.
"You're doing it now."
Lwazi exhaled and nodded.
As Hann breached the doorway with a burst of kinetic force, Lwazi took the long way through the side halls. The walls buzzed with thought energy. He could feel intent like heat—guards waiting to shoot, scientists frightened, Richter focused like a scalpel.
Lwazi concentrated. He tapped into the fear.
And pushed.
A scream echoed from the far hall. One of the guards turned, eyes wide in terror. Another dropped his rifle and began sobbing.
Lwazi walked out of the shadows. "Sorry," he whispered, "you'll thank me later."
His power surged—no longer a torrent drowning him, but a channel he controlled.
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Main Lab
Hann confronted Richter with calm menace.
"You shouldn't be playing with dead alien tech," Hann said. "It tends to play back."
Richter smirked. "You're not an Avenger. Who sent you?"
"I work for people who don't wait until aliens fall from the sky to act."
Richter drew a weapon—something hybridized, pulsing with purple electricity. Before he could fire, Hann moved.
The staff struck down, generating a shockwave that blew the workbenches apart. Richter flew back. Hann spun and slammed the end of his weapon down again.
But Richter wasn't done.
He activated the neural core, and suddenly, the lab was alive with energy. Lights flickered. The air shimmered. A synthetic growl rippled through the walls.
"You awakened it," Hann growled.
Then—
Lwazi arrived.
"I got it!" he shouted, hands to his head. "It's not awake—it's calling! Trying to broadcast!"
Hann ducked under a blast of plasma and rolled toward the neural core. "Can you stop it?"
Lwazi clenched his teeth. "I can speak to it."
Hann raised a brow. "Say what?"
"I think I can jam it—psychically. But I'll need a second."
"Take three."
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The Core Connection
Lwazi sat cross-legged in front of the core. The energy pushed against his mind, electric and alien. It wasn't words—it was hunger. A signal stretching across the stars. Reaching for ships that weren't there anymore.
He focused.
Breathe.
Control.
You're not drowning.
He reached deeper. He didn't shut the signal. He redirected it.
Like catching a radio wave and bending it back into feedback.
The core whined. Lights dimmed.
And then—silence.
Hann stood above Richter's unconscious body, eyes wide.
"You did it," he muttered.
Lwazi stood shakily, nose bleeding. "Yeah. I really did."
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Later: Rooftop – Extraction Point
The night air was sharp again. Snow still drifted, now touched with faint ash. Lwazi sat on the ledge, legs dangling, chewing on a protein bar.
Hann joined him, two water bottles in hand.
"You didn't just hold your own," Hann said. "You turned the fight."
Lwazi looked out at the Berlin skyline. "It felt good. Not having someone scream at me for using my mind."
"You didn't just use it," Hann said. "You mastered it. Even for a few minutes, that's more than most get."
Lwazi grinned. "Maybe I'm not broken after all."
"You never were," Hann replied.
The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was the kind that only came after war, when the guns go quiet and survival hangs like mist in the lungs.
"I still need a better codename," Lwazi muttered.
"How about Sentra?" Hann offered.
Lwazi tilted his head. "Huh. Sounds clean."
"Then it's settled."
A Wakandan stealth shuttle approached from the dark sky, lights low. They stood together, both silhouetted against the skyline.
Two shadows. One path. A team beginning to take shape.
End of Chapter 17