𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 ━━ 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

25 The Baron

SOKOVIA

The air had been heavy that day, saturated with the peculiar stillness that often precedes catastrophe. The city of Sokovia lay nestled against the landscape, its streets alive with the routines of everyday life. Children played in cobblestone courtyards; market vendors called out their wares. Baron Helmut Zemo had kissed his wife, Heike, and his young son, Carl, goodbye in the pale light of dawn, the sun barely cresting over the horizon to warm the cool Sokovian air. Heike's arms lingered around his neck as if trying to hold him there a moment longer, her dark eyes shimmering with worry she didn't voice.

"You always come back to us," she said softly, her hands smoothing the collar of his uniform. "Promise me you'll do it again."

Zemo cupped her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. "Always," he replied. His voice was steady, a soldier's confidence masking the flicker of unease in his chest.

Carl tugged at his leg, holding up a toy soldier with a wide grin. "Look, Papa! This one's ready to fight too!"

Zemo crouched to ruffle his son's hair, taking the little figure and inspecting it with mock seriousness. "He'll protect you and Mama, just like I would. You be brave for her, ja?"

Carl nodded earnestly, his small hand gripping Zemo's with surprising strength.

Zemo had left them in the care of his father, the elder Zemo's presence a pillar of strength for their family. His father's voice carried the weight of unshakable authority as he assured him, "They will be safe here. Go do your duty, my son. Sokovia needs you."

The modest home on the city's outskirts had always been a haven. Its sturdy stone walls had stood through generations of hardship, through wars and rebuilding. Nestled among the rolling hills, it felt far removed from the chaos brewing in the capital. Zemo had believed—no, convinced himself—that no harm could reach them there.

As he mounted his vehicle and looked back one last time, he saw Heike standing in the doorway, Carl perched on her hip, waving enthusiastically. His father stood beside them, a sentinel against the world.

Duty had called him to the heart of Sokovia, where his tactical mind was an asset the military could not do without. He drove into the city with purpose, his heart anchored by the knowledge that his family was safe. But as the echoes of his engine faded into the distance, an unspoken fear lingered in the quiet air—a shadow of the devastation that would soon change everything.

The Day the Sky Fell

The day began with the promise of unease. Sokovia had long been a city on edge, its people caught between the political unrest of its leaders and the whispers of international powers treating them like pawns on a chessboard. But nothing could have prepared Helmut Zemo for the moment the sky began to betray its promise of safety.

Ultron's rise was not a single, sudden catastrophe; it was a crescendo of horror. Sokovia's streets were already thick with unease when the first tremors hit. The ground quaked beneath the city like a wounded beast, and the air buzzed with unnatural energy. Then, with a sound that seemed to rend the very heavens, the earth cracked open. Sokovia's foundations groaned and screamed, wrenched from their earthly moorings, as the entire city lifted skyward.

It was surreal. Buildings leaned at impossible angles before crumbling into clouds of dust. Cars slid from cracked asphalt and plummeted into the chasm forming beneath the ascending city. Fire consumed everything in its path, an inferno ignited by ruptured gas lines and cascading explosions. The air grew thick with smoke and ash, choking out the cries of the panicked.