No matter how Marcus managed to sense his movements within the super-speed field, Quicksilver had made up his mind — he would not get close to that dangerous, unpredictable black-haired reaper again.
That was precisely what Marcus wanted. The counterattack earlier, that sharp elbow that had sent Quicksilver flying, had been carefully calculated — but it had also relied on one critical moment of weakness and a touch of luck. If Marcus truly could track Quicksilver's movements with perfect accuracy, that strike wouldn't have been a mere elbow — it would've been a killing blow, a tenfold iron punch or a high-frequency slash.
The truth was, Quicksilver had no idea that Marcus was tracking him through the faint magnetic field emitted by the fragment of magnet embedded in his body. Even Nick Fury, with all his experience, wouldn't have figured it out without knowing Marcus's metallic physiology. And as everyone knew — the unknown breeds fear.
For now, Quicksilver decided to switch tactics.
"Marcus, don't let your guard down!" Captain America called out from beyond the barrier. Victory was far from certain; until Quicksilver was completely neutralized, the fight was far from over. And judging by Quicksilver's posture, he had indeed thought of something new.
Reaching to his waist, Quicksilver drew a massive revolver, the barrel so large it looked almost absurd. Its design resembled a custom-built Smith & Wesson M500, but this was no civilian model. This was a Hydra-engineered anti-meta-human weapon, designed specifically for killing superhumans.
The revolver's caliber was an unbelievable 17mm, comparable to most anti-materiel sniper rifles. Each round was a special high-density alloy hollow-point, a piece of cutting-edge Hydra technology — engineered not just for penetration, but for sheer destruction. It was overkill incarnate, a weapon that could blow a hole the size of a fist through reinforced armor — or through a human chest.
The gun had been a "gift" from Baron Strucker himself. Normally, Quicksilver hated firearms — too slow, too clumsy for his taste — but since it was a gift from the man who had sheltered and empowered him, he had kept it. He never expected to actually use it.
Its recoil was monstrous — unmanageable for an ordinary soldier — but Quicksilver, though not a powerhouse by mutant standards, possessed far greater strength than any normal man. For him, even this beast of a revolver was controllable.
He raised the weapon with one hand, the barrel steady, the black muzzle aimed straight at Marcus's head.
Marcus smirked slightly. "That's your big plan? A gun?"
Quicksilver's eyes narrowed. "Not just a gun."
"BANG!"
The shot rang out like a cannon blast, echoing through the mountains. A thumb-thick bullet spun out from the barrel, trailed by a violent burst of muzzle fire that bloomed like a rose of flame. The projectile rocketed toward Marcus's forehead, faster than anyone else could even register.
To everyone else, it was a single blinding flash.
To Quicksilver, it was a snail's crawl.
Super-speed field — activated!
The world froze once more. Snow hung motionless in midair, and the gun's smoke dispersed as slowly as fog at dawn. The bullet drifted forward lazily, spinning in the still air. To Quicksilver, it was moving at a crawl — but in normal reality, it would strike faster than lightning.
He wasn't satisfied with just one shot. While the first bullet floated midair, he sprinted behind Marcus in an instant and fired again — this time, aiming straight for the heart.
Then he darted to the left and fired a third shot — this one at Marcus's ankle.
Then came the fourth.
And the fifth.
The revolver's cylinder clicked empty. Because of its enormous caliber, the gun could only hold five rounds. But that was all he needed.
Each of the five bullets hovered midair, slowly advancing toward Marcus from five different angles — the head, heart, shoulder, side, and ankle — all converging on him at once.
Each round, according to Hydra's engineers, could pierce tank armor and still kill the driver inside. Against flesh and bone? It was unspeakably lethal.
Quicksilver grinned, admiring the deadly geometry of his trap.
"Let's see how you get out of this one, Reaper."
He stepped out of his accelerated state.
Time resumed.
"—!"
Marcus's eyes widened slightly as he instantly sensed the incoming threat — five bullets, screaming toward him from every direction. He had no time to dodge them all. Only one.
He didn't hesitate. His right hand transformed into steel and shot upward, intercepting the one aimed for his forehead — the shot that would destroy his brain.
"SHNK! SHNK! SHNK! SHNK!"
The other four struck true.
Each one tore through him with explosive force, blasting out bloody craters the size of bowls. One punched through his shoulder. Another through his ribs. A third shattered his thigh. The fourth — a direct hit to the chest — obliterated his heart.
The snow turned red beneath him, stained by the cascade of blood spraying from his wounds.
"Marcus!" Captain America shouted, panic flashing across his face.
But then — something miraculous happened.
The bloodflow slowed. The wounds began to pulse. Muscle fibers started to knit back together; bone fragments drew inward, reattaching and fusing. Within seconds, fresh flesh filled the craters, skin regrew over the top, and the horrific injuries vanished as though they'd never existed.
Only his torn, blood-soaked combat suit remained as evidence that he had ever been injured.
Quicksilver exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Rapid regeneration… So that's your trick."
At last, some understanding. Fighting an unknown ability was the worst kind of torture. Now that he had seen Marcus's secret — the reason he kept surviving — the pressure eased.
And yet, Quicksilver's analytical mind had caught something else.
"You blocked the one aimed at your head…" he said slowly, his tone sharpening. "That's your weakness, isn't it?"
It was a simple deduction, but a deadly one. With his enhanced vision, Quicksilver had clearly seen that Marcus had enough time to block one bullet — any of them. Yet he had chosen to protect only the one that threatened his skull.
That could only mean one thing.
Marcus's regeneration worked on everything — except his brain.
A faint grin spread across Quicksilver's bruised face as he steadied his weapon, eyes gleaming with renewed confidence.
"Your body can heal," he said coldly. "But if I destroy your head… even you won't come back from that."
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T/N:
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