Before anyone could react, a dark-gray figure shot out from behind a nearby tree, moving with the ferocity of a lightning strike. In an instant, a blade flashed across Quicksilver's back—so fast that not even those watching could tell when the attacker had appeared.
The blade, formed from Marcus's right hand transformed into gleaming metal, sliced through the air with a piercing whistle. Snowflakes split apart in its wake as the strike traced a bright silver arc straight toward Quicksilver's torso.
For a heartbeat, no one understood what had just happened.
Marcus's body twisted, one hand braced against the snow to steady himself after the follow-through. The blade, now reshaped into his arm again, dripped faintly with crimson. A single droplet of blood fell onto the snow, spreading into a small, vivid bloom of red.
And Quicksilver—his figure had vanished.
Marcus's gaze snapped upward. There he was—standing atop the cliff, clutching his right shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers and dripping steadily into the snow below. Even with his superhuman reflexes, Quicksilver hadn't fully avoided the attack. His speed might have carried him out of the strike zone, but not before Marcus's blade carved a long, shallow cut into his flesh.
"Tch. Too shallow." Marcus shook his arm, letting the last traces of blood fall to the ground. As expected of a man who lives by dodging blows, he thought. His reflexes are monstrous.
If Quicksilver ever gained an ability like Spider-Man's "spider sense," Marcus mused, he'd be nearly untouchable—nothing in the world could hit him.
The thought lingered for only a moment. Technically, this world was part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, not the comic continuity. Still, Marcus knew that in the original comics, Tony Stark had once developed the Iron Spider Armor, capable of replicating spider-sense. Perhaps, Marcus thought, in this version of the world, Stark could be persuaded to do the same.
For now, though, Marcus's concern was simpler: that single cut was enough. Quicksilver's mutant physiology would resist the virus, forcing it into dormancy for now—but the infection was in. All Marcus needed to do next was defeat him.
If S.H.I.E.L.D. withdrew their forces completely, sneaking into Hydra's base to seize Loki's scepter would be nearly impossible. With both Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver standing guard, infiltration without distraction wasn't an option. That left only one solution—Marcus himself had to act.
"Marcus, when—how did you even get in there?" Captain America's voice broke through the comms, stunned. None of them had seen Marcus pass through the Scarlet Witch's impenetrable barrier.
The answer was simple. The witch's barrier didn't extend below the surface. Marcus had used the same trick as before—burrowing underground to bypass it entirely. Of course, his tunneling wasn't true geokinesis; it was an extension of his metallic transformation, allowing him to cut through stone like a blade. But he couldn't transport others that way—just himself.
Meaning he now stood inside the barrier alone, just as Thor had before him, forced to face an overwhelming opponent under impossible conditions.
"So, you're the infamous Black haired Demon," Quicksilver called down, narrowing his eyes. He didn't attack immediately. The air of confidence around Marcus—and that sudden, untraceable strike—made even him hesitate. "The one-man army who wiped out an entire Hydra battalion?"
Marcus gave a small, amused smile. "That's a rather rude nickname. I prefer hero of the Avengers, if you don't mind. It sounds a bit more… dignified."
His tone was teasing, but his mind was already working. From the moment he stepped onto this battlefield, his trap had begun.
The two stood facing each other—Marcus in his gray-black tactical combat suit, Quicksilver in his tight blue uniform designed for high-speed friction resistance. Around them, the world seemed to hold its breath. The soldiers outside the barrier dared not move, sensing that one wrong sound could shatter the tension.
Quicksilver's mind was racing. His thoughts, moving at superhuman speed, churned through every possible scenario, trying to predict Marcus's next move. But the truth was, he knew almost nothing about Marcus's powers. There was no data, no reference, no footage. Against an unknown enemy like this, there were no guarantees.
In the end, impatience won out.
Quicksilver dropped his hand from his bleeding shoulder and crouched low, one palm touching the frozen ground. His body tensed like a coiled spring.
The moment his fingers brushed the snow—
the world stopped moving.
Super Speed—Activated!
The falling snow froze in midair, each flake suspended as though trapped inside a photograph. The droplet of blood from his wound hung beside him like a perfect red gem. Even the bullets S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers were firing at the barrier outside crept forward at a snail's pace, barely inching through the air.
This was Quicksilver's domain.
The world of stillness.
The World.
Here, within this frozen instant, time crawled while he alone moved freely.
Just as Nick Fury had theorized, maintaining this state was like holding one's breath—it couldn't last forever. He would need to return to normal time to recover eventually. But while within this accelerated world, Quicksilver was untouchable, invisible, unstoppable.
"Let's see how you handle this," he murmured, his words so fast they dissolved into incomprehensible vibrations. To anyone outside his perception, it would sound like a faint metallic hum.
With a smirk, he clenched his fists and lunged.
He didn't aim for Marcus's front. Instead, he darted past him, a blur of blue, circling behind to strike from the blind spot—a counter for the earlier ambush.
His confidence surged. 'Even Thor couldn't track me in this state,' he thought. 'And this so-called "Demon"? He's not even looking my way.'
'Yes,' Marcus's head hadn't turned. His eyes hadn't followed.
To Quicksilver, it looked like an easy win—
just another slow, predictable opponent trapped in his motionless world.
But appearances can be deceiving.
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T/N:
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