𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 ━━ 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

EPILOGUE

The endless waves of the Atlantic roared with unrelenting ferocity, crashing against the sleek, impenetrable walls of the Raft. Rising ominously from the tumultuous waters, the circular fortress stood as a monolith of cold steel and silent judgment. Its sheer size dwarfed the churning sea around it, and the faint glow of scattered lights on its surface barely softened its foreboding presence. Torrents of water poured out from hidden vents along its sides, hissing into the ocean like the breath of some dormant beast.

The Raft wasn't just a prison; it was a statement. Its towering structure, carved with sharp, industrial lines, spoke of its singular purpose: to house the most dangerous individuals the world had ever known. Helicopters buzzed like gnats near the top deck, their presence a stark reminder that even the air above was under tight surveillance. A gaping hatch at the center hinted at unseen depths, its purpose as shadowy as the lives trapped within.

As storm clouds loomed on the horizon, the Raft stood unwavering, a fortress untouched by nature's fury or human defiance. Beneath its dark waters, a labyrinth of cells held those whose powers and crimes threatened to unravel the fragile balance of the world above. It was a place of no escape, a tomb for the living. The waves surged and broke against its walls, but the Raft remained silent, indifferent, and eternal.

The cold sea air stung Edda's face as the Quinjet approached the Raft-a foreboding structure rising from the ocean like a monument to despair. The sound of the jet's engines echoed ominously, mingling with the distant crash of waves. Edda stood at the back of the cockpit, her gaze fixed on the imposing prison, her grip tightening on the hilt of her whip sword. Steve was at the controls, his jaw set in determination. Beside him, Kalum stood tall, dressed in a black stealth suit. His spear rested casually in one hand, but his expression betrayed his readiness for battle.

"This place is a fortress," Edda muttered, breaking the tense silence. "High security, underwater cells, and enough firepower to keep a small army at bay."

"Good thing we're not a small army," Kalum said with a half-smile, his voice steady. "We're the Avengers-or what's left of them."

She glanced sideways at Steve, her lips quirking into a wry smile. "You know," she said, her voice tinged with a mix of amusement and disbelief, "I never imagined following the love of my life into a fortified prison to bust out his friends. Thought I was done with this whole helping people thing." She spread her arms dramatically, her tone laced with playful resignation. "But here I am. C'est la vie."

Steve turned to her, his own smile soft and filled with warmth. "You know," he said, his voice quiet but carrying that familiar edge of determination, "you've said no to me before."

Edda's eyes sparkled as she met his gaze, the tension of the moment softened by the quiet connection they shared. "And you know," she replied, her voice lighter now, "I don't half-ass anything."

From a step behind, Kalum caught the exchange. He'd seen many things in his long life, but the spark between Edda and Steve was something else entirely-intense, grounded, and utterly unyielding. For a brief moment, he hesitated, his own thoughts shifting to the unspoken tension between him and Natasha, but he shook it off.

"We'll get them out," Steve said firmly, his hands steady on the controls. "No matter what it takes."

The Quinjet hovered above the Raft, and Steve flipped a switch, opening the rear hatch. The trio leapt into action, Kalum landing with a god-like grace while Edda's movements were calculated and silent. Steve followed, hands clenched into fists, missing his shield. They moved swiftly through the Raft's exterior, their presence undetected thanks to Kalum's mastery of stealth and Edda's knack for subverting security systems. But as they neared the inner levels, the resistance began. Guards swarmed toward them, armed to the teeth, but they were no match.