After securing his newly acquired weapons, Marcus covered his face once more and prepared for the next stage of his mission.
His true goal tonight wasn't Deadpool's equipment or abilities—those were merely fortunate bonuses. The main objective remained unchanged: seizing the Extremis Virus in its purest form.
But just as he steeled himself to move, a grim update came through his psychic link with his subordinate.
Hawkeye: Boss!
Marcus: What is it, Hawkeye?
Hawkeye: Boss, whatever you're doing—it's getting way too loud. S.H.I.E.L.D. has noticed. The Avengers are mobilizing. Estimated arrival: ten minutes.
Marcus: I figured as much. Things are getting out of hand. Seems we're not the only ones after the Extremis Virus. You got eyes on the others?
Hawkeye: Yeah. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents tailing Punisher and Daredevil just lost them—both vanished in New Jersey. My guess? They're your mystery intruders. Be careful, Boss. Those two are bad news.
Marcus: I don't care what they are. If they get in my way—they die.
Daredevil and the Punisher—two infamously relentless vigilantes. Under normal circumstances, Marcus might've tried his usual tactic: play the hero, earn their trust, then betray them at the perfect moment. But with the Avengers inbound, there was no time for games or deception.
This time, there was only one rule left: Kill anyone who stands in the way.
---
AIM Experimental Center
Inside the laboratory's heart, two scientists were frantically gathering documents and hard drives from the tables. One was a sharply dressed man in his forties—Aldrich Killian, head of the organization known as A.I.M. The other, a woman in a white lab coat, was his assistant, the botanist Maya Hansen.
After witnessing Deadpool's utter defeat through the surveillance feeds, they both knew the facility was doomed. All they could do now was grab what mattered and run.
Killian unlocked a heavily fortified safe, revealing a sleek silver briefcase. After a fingerprint scan and a multi-layered code entry, the case hissed open to reveal three syringes glowing with fiery orange liquid.
"Maya," Killian said quickly, "these are the original samples of the Extremis Virus. Take one."
He tucked two into his belt and handed the third to her, his voice urgent. "We'll split up. Whatever happens, one of us must ensure the research survives."
Maya clutched the syringe to her chest, nodding firmly. "Understood. For the hope of healing every disabled person in the world… I'll keep moving, no matter the cost."
At that moment, a squad of heavily armed Extremis Soldiers burst through the door. Their commander, a burly mercenary with a grim face, snapped, "Dr. Killian, we have to move now."
"Good," Killian said sharply. "You—protect Dr. Hansen. Take her through the alternate route. Get her out of here alive."
The soldiers immediately surrounded Maya and began escorting her toward the secondary exit, unaware that Killian had already stripped off his expensive suit and replaced it with an ordinary soldier's uniform.
His plan was simple and cruel. Maya, carrying a vial of the Extremis Virus and escorted by elite guards, would draw all enemy attention. While the enemy chased her, he—disguised as a grunt—would quietly slip away with the other two samples.
Sacrificing one vial and his assistant was a small price to pay for his own survival and the preservation of his research.
Maya, however, misunderstood entirely. Believing Killian had risked himself to protect her, she was moved to tears. Her resolve hardened; she would not let his faith in her go to waste. Carefully, she tucked the syringe into her coat and led the soldiers down the escape corridor.
Less than a minute after they departed, a red countdown appeared on every monitor in the facility.
BASE SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE INITIATED
TIMER: 10:00
9:59
9:58
...
Exactly as Killian had planned.
But halfway to the exit, Maya's group ran into a far greater threat.
---
The air filled with the stench of gunpowder.
A single man stood in the center of the corridor, his broad frame blocking the way forward. In each hand, he held a gleaming Desert Eagle, the silver barrels still steaming from recent gunfire.
The floor around him was slick with blood—dozens of Extremis Soldiers lay sprawled in lifeless heaps, bullet holes punched clean through their chests. The man himself, however, was untouched.
He turned slowly toward Maya's group, revealing the stark white skull emblem emblazoned on his black shirt.
The Punisher.
"Another bunch of dead men walking," he muttered, his voice cold and gravelly.
The surviving soldiers raised their rifles in panic, but the Punisher didn't even flinch. To him, these were nothing but poorly armed amateurs waving toy guns.
The first soldier to speak shouted, "He's alone! Take him down—!"
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Before the man could finish, the Punisher's pistols roared to life. His arms moved faster than the eye could follow, like a blur of death.
The corridor lit up with muzzle flashes as a rain of .50 caliber rounds tore through the Extremis Soldiers. Each impact lifted bodies off the ground before slamming them into the walls with wet, meaty thuds.
Not a single one managed to fire back.
When the gunfire ceased, the only sound was the clinking of spent casings hitting the floor.
The Punisher stood amidst the carnage, unfazed, smoke rising from his barrels.
At his feet, Maya trembled violently, paralyzed by terror. The blood pooling around her reflected the grim white skull on his chest. She had never seen such ruthless efficiency—this man was no hero. He was a killing machine in human skin.
"D-don't come any closer!" she stammered, legs giving out beneath her. Crawling backward, she grabbed a pistol from one of the fallen soldiers, fumbling to raise it with both trembling hands.
The Punisher didn't stop walking. His boots crunched through glass and blood as he advanced, eyes cold and unblinking.
"I said stop!" Maya screamed, tears streaming down her face. Her voice cracked with desperation. "Don't come any closer!"
He gave no response.
With a sob, Maya squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
__
T/N:
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