By the time Marcus emerged from the hidden tunnel and stepped into the abandoned factory above ground, his eyes fell immediately on a strange sight—a human body encased entirely in a thick, cocoon-like shell of hardened scabs, lying motionless near the exit.
He recognized the condition instantly. It was the natural reaction of a body undergoing transformation under the Extremis Virus—when flesh burned, healed, and restructured itself in a cycle of violent regeneration. What he didn't realize, however, was that the one sealed inside the cocoon was none other than Daredevil, who had fallen to Killian moments earlier.
But Marcus had no time to wonder.
A sudden roar of an engine shattered the silence. A black SUV burst through the rusted factory gates, metal doors screeching as they tore from their hinges. The vehicle swerved sharply, tires screaming, and sped out onto the road.
There was no need to guess who was inside. Aldrich Killian—the very target of Marcus's mission—was making his escape.
Marcus vaulted over the wall in pursuit, landing lightly on the cracked pavement before taking off in a sprint.
---
Even at this late hour, New York's streets were never truly empty. The avenue leading toward the docks was still busy—trucks, taxis, and sedans all inching forward in an orderly flow of headlights.
All except for one.
The black SUV tore through the lanes like a runaway beast, weaving between vehicles with reckless precision, metal scraping against metal as horns blared in protest. Behind it, a figure in a silver hood and mask raced after the car, his every stride covering meters at a time.
The sight was inhuman. Marcus ran with a speed rivaling that of Olympic sprinters—yet his pace didn't falter, not even after a full kilometer. To the stunned onlookers, he might as well have been a machine disguised as a man.
Inside the SUV, Killian caught a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror, and his expression twisted in fury.
"Damn it! You just don't know when to quit!" he spat, slamming his foot down on the accelerator. The engine roared, the speedometer needle climbing dangerously high.
The SUV shot forward again, scraping along the divider and sideswiping several cars in its path.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, maniac!"
A truck driver stuck his head out the window to shout—only to freeze as a heavy thud echoed above him. Two boot-shaped dents appeared on his roof.
Marcus was running across the tops of cars.
He leapt from one vehicle to the next with fluid precision, his movements impossibly fast for a human. Each step left a clear dent in the metal, his weight and force turning the orderly traffic into chaos. Horns blared, brakes screeched, and collisions erupted in every direction.
Within seconds, the once-smooth flow of traffic collapsed into a snarling gridlock. Cars spun, overturned, and crashed against the barriers.
The only vehicle still moving freely was Killian's black SUV.
Even so, the chaos forced him to slow slightly—and that was all the opportunity Marcus needed.
Closing the distance to within ten meters, Marcus drew both of his SIG P6 pistols and opened fire.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Each bullet struck precisely at the SUV's tires—but the rounds simply flattened against the rubber, embedding themselves uselessly. Killian's car had been reinforced with military-grade armor; even the wheels were bullet-resistant.
The sound of gunfire sent bystanders screaming and scattering. Some fled into nearby shops, others ducked behind cars. A few, pale with shock, fumbled with their phones to dial 911—but by the time any call connected, both men had already vanished down the highway.
Killian leaned halfway out of his window, shouting over the roar of the engine, "Stay back if you want to live! I don't have time to deal with you!"
Marcus smirked beneath his mask. "Funny, neither do I."
He sheathed one pistol and reached behind his back, fingers curling around the hilt of his Adamantium Katana. With a sharp motion, he hurled it forward like a spinning blade of silver light.
The weapon cut through the air with a shriek and slammed into the SUV's rear wheel.
Clang!
The blade sliced straight through the reinforced tire and buried itself in the wheel housing. Sparks erupted as the unbreakable metal locked against the rim, grinding violently with every rotation.
Any normal blade would have shattered instantly under such strain—but this was Adamantium, the hardest metal known to man. It didn't bend, it didn't break—it bit deep and held fast.
The effect was immediate.
The SUV's rear wheel seized up completely. Momentum ripped the car off balance, sending it careening sideways.
"Shit—!" Killian barely had time to curse before the world flipped upside down.
The SUV rolled violently across the asphalt, smashing through the divider and colliding head-on with a fuel tanker. The impact crumpled both vehicles like tin cans.
And then—
BOOM!
A fiery explosion engulfed the street, a column of flame rising high into the night sky. The shockwave shattered nearby windows, setting off a chorus of car alarms. Within moments, both vehicles were nothing more than burning husks of twisted metal.
By all logic, no living being could have survived the inferno.
But logic didn't apply to Aldrich Killian.
From the heart of the firestorm, a figure emerged—a man wreathed in flames, his flesh glowing like molten steel. He walked out of the blaze with calm, deliberate steps, unbothered by the fire consuming him.
It was as if the inferno itself bowed to his will.
The Extremis Virus had made him something more than human—something indestructible.
Killian's voice cut through the roar of the burning wreckage. "Why must you all force me to do this?" he shouted to no one in particular. "I only wanted peace—to perfect my work! But no—everyone has to stand in my way!"
He reached into the wreckage and pulled free the Adamantium Katana, still glowing red-hot from the flames. His palms, burning with intense heat, gripped the blade tightly. Instead of melting, the sword seemed to drink in the energy, glowing brighter with molten light.
Thanks to the unique properties of Adamantium—once forged, it could not be reshaped or destroyed—the blade held firm, unyielding even under thousands of degrees of heat.
In Killian's hands, it became something new.
A weapon forged from science and rage.
A flaming sword of pure energy—the perfect extension of his Extremis-enhanced power.
And now, with fire swirling around him like a storm, Killian turned his gaze toward Marcus.
"Let's finish this."
__
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