The bullet screamed past the Punisher, ricocheting off the reinforced wall before finally flattening into a misshapen lump of metal. Even though the shot had come dangerously close, the man didn't flinch. His expression remained cold and unreadable as he continued to advance toward Maya, step by steady step.
"D-Don't come any closer!" Maya's voice trembled as she realized her first shot had missed. Panic overtook her, and she desperately squeezed the trigger again. But before the second bullet could fire, the Punisher's hand shot out like lightning, smacking the pistol from her grasp. It clattered across the floor, spinning several times before coming to a silent stop.
Disarmed and terrified, Maya collapsed to her knees, clutching her head and screaming. She expected to feel the pain of her body being torn apart—maybe even humiliated before she died—but the killing blow never came.
Heart pounding violently in her chest, she cracked open her eyes. The Punisher was gone. Turning around, she saw him walking away, the glowing orange Extremis Serum clutched in his hand.
"Why…?" she gasped, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "Why didn't you kill me?"
Without looking back, the Punisher answered in his low, gravelly voice, "Because your eyes don't have the look of a killer."
Suddenly, a figure darted from the shadows ahead of him—a woman in tactical gear, her short pink hair brushing her ears, yellow electricity flickering across her body like a living storm. Her movement was sharp, disciplined, and predatory.
It was Thunder, Marcus's second-ranked mutant enforcer.
"That's the kind of look I'm talking about," the Punisher muttered darkly.
Both fighters immediately drew their weapons—two Desert Eagles aimed squarely at Thunder, while she brandished her twin electrified daggers. The oppressive tension between them was palpable. Even Maya, crouched in the corner, could barely breathe; the sheer killing intent radiating from both sides made the air feel heavy and suffocating.
---
Thunder: Master, I've located Maya Hansen and the Punisher. One vial of the Extremis Serum is in his possession.
Marcus: No sign of Killian?
Thunder: None. Only this one vial so far.
Alex: Master, we'll need more than one sample for proper research. AIM must have kept at least two or three original vials.
Marcus: Agreed. The rest are likely with Killian. I'll go after him myself. Thunder, you keep the Punisher occupied—I'll handle Killian and then come to back you up.
Thunder: Understood. Leave him to me.
Winston: What about me?
Marcus: Secure the perimeter and dispose of the bodies, Winston. The Avengers will arrive soon. We'll need a clean retreat path. Everyone stay sharp. Operation Extremis Retrieval begins now!
---
After cutting the psychic link, Marcus found himself face-to-face with several Extremis Soldiers in full tactical armor. These were the elite guards protecting the facility's core zone.
The instant they spotted him, they panicked and raised their rifles. A barrage of gunfire erupted, filling the corridor with smoke and the roar of automatic weapons.
"Perfect," Marcus murmured coldly. "I need a live one."
Mental Possession — Winter Soldier!
Drawing the Carbonadium Katana from his back, Marcus charged headlong through the storm of bullets. The rounds tore into his flesh, spraying blood in every direction—but he didn't slow. The pain only fueled him as he crashed into the enemy line like a living weapon.
Under the deadly precision of the Winter Soldier's combat instincts, Marcus's blade danced like a dragon, cutting arcs of silver through the red mist. Every stroke was lethal—limbs severed, torsos split open, the corridor drowning in blood.
The Carbonadium blade glimmered faintly with a cold blue hue as it struck. The Extremis Soldiers' regenerative powers—their greatest strength—were completely nullified. Wounds that should have sealed in seconds now gushed uncontrollably, their bodies collapsing one after another, unable to rise again.
Against this weapon, the so-called "super soldiers" were no different from ordinary men. One strike was enough to end them.
Within seconds, only one remained—a terrified soldier trembling by the wall. Before he could even think to flee, Marcus drove his sword straight through his abdomen, pinning him to the concrete.
The man screamed in agony, blood pouring from his mouth.
"Shh…" Marcus pressed a hand over his lips, silencing him with an icy glare. "You scream again, and I'll make it worse. Tell me where Killian is, and I'll let you down. Understand?"
The soldier whimpered, gasping through the pain. "I—I don't know! After Dr. Killian left the control room, I haven't seen him since! Aaaah—!"
Marcus twisted the blade slightly, drawing another scream. Judging by the man's tone, though, he wasn't lying. Marcus frowned and shifted tactics.
"Fine. Then tell me—how many exits does this facility have?"
"Th-three…" the soldier stammered, drenched in sweat. "One west gate, one on the rear side where you came in, and a secret escape tunnel. Only Dr. Killian has the key for it—it's in the fifth room to the left of this corridor—"
"Good boy."
Marcus pulled the sword free. The man dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach, choking on his own blood.
Then the blade flashed once more.
His head rolled to the floor.
"I said I'd let you down," Marcus muttered, wiping the blade clean. "Not that I'd let you live."
---
A voice echoed through the corridor speakers:
"Warning: Base self-destruct sequence engaged. Evacuation required within ten minutes. Remaining time: nine minutes."
Marcus exhaled sharply.
As expected, a facility like this—housing illegal bio-weapons and classified experiments—would rather erase itself than risk exposure. Every trace of the Extremis Virus would be destroyed if he didn't move fast.
"Time's running out," he said grimly, gripping the Carbonadium blade tighter.
And with that, Marcus sprinted toward Killian's escape route.
__
T/N:
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