Game in Marvel 149

Barton's grip tightened on his bow as his eyes darted to the rooftops. Nothing. No movent, no signs of life. But that didn't fool him.

"You're a difficult one to track, I'll admit."

The voice was smooth. It drifted through the alley like smoke, making it impossible to pinpoint the source. Barton didn't reply. Instead, he moved, rolling into the shadows of a nearby crate, drawing an arrow from his quiver.

"Ah, silent type. I enjoy that. No pathetic begging, no empty bravado. But make no mistake, little archer—you're already dead."

The instant the words left the stranger's lips, Barton felt a rush of movent behind him. He turned, releasing his arrow in the sa motion. The projectile shot through the air with impossible speed—only to hit nothing but mist.

His opponent was fast. Too fast.

Barton cursed under his breath, rolling away as sothing struck the ground where he had stood. The cobblestone cracked under the impact. A tall, pale figure stood there now, shrouded in a long coat, and had crimson eyes.

Clint didn't need an introduction. He'd seen monsters before. This one was just more refined.

"What are you?" Barton muttered.

"You don't have the foothold to know my na." The shadow replied.

Barton didn't wait. He fired.

The arrow streaked forward. The shadow moved to dodge but the mont he did, the arrow changed course mid-flight, twisting toward his chest.

For the first ti, surprise flickered across the man's face. Being a Higher Vampire for thousands of years, this was the first ti he had seen sothing like that. It was Hubert who had taken up the coins to bring down Barton. He barely managed to shift, the arrow grazing his side before embedding itself in a wooden beam behind him. Steam hissed from the wound—a wound that should have healed instantly but did not.

"Interesting."

Barton was already moving, drawing three arrows at once and loosing them in rapid succession. Hubert blurred, vanishing and reappearing behind him in the blink of an eye. Clawed fingers lashed out, aiming for Barton's neck.

But Clint ducked. In one smooth motion, he twisted his bow, using it as a staff to deflect the incoming strike. The mont Hubert's claws t the bow, a flash of frost erupted between them, sending the vampire skidding back.

"Now this is a surprise. You're not just any archer, are you?" Hubert looked at the weapon with growing intrigue.

"Took you long enough to figure that out." Barton exhaled.

"Good. That ans this will be fun." Hubert grinned. With that, the vampire vanished again. But this ti, Barton was ready. he had never fought such a monster before, but he had once fought against Liam. It was very bad fight. But he learnt one thing. The trick wasn't to follow their movent—it was to predict where they had to be.

He turned sharply, loosing an arrow infused with a faint blue glow. It struck the air itself, and for a fraction of a second, Hubert's form beca visible, his body caught mid-motion as if trapped between worlds.

This was the arrow filled with small dust of silver. Barton had figured out that the monster was most probably a vampire. Since the monster had the speed and also high intelligence, and ca for hunting him, higher vampire would only fit it's description.

He wasn't so witcher, but for sure he had dabbled into the knowledge of monsters. Hubert moved again.

This ti, Barton wasn't fast enough.

A clawed hand grabbed his arm and wrenched it back, twisting his wrist at an unnatural angle. Pain flared up his forearm as his bow nearly slipped from his grasp. Hubert pulled him close, grinning.

"You fight well," he whispered. "But you're still just prey."

Then Barton did sothing unexpected. He smirked.

Hubert's eyes flickered with confusion for just a mont—long enough for Barton to activate the hidden chanism in his bracer. A tiny blade, coated in a shimring substance, shot out and plunged into the vampire's side.

"I have assassin's creed too. Bitch."

Hubert recoiled, releasing him instantly. The wound sizzled.

"Yeah, see, that's where you're wrong," Barton rolled backward. "Yeah, see, that's where you're wrong, I don't do prey."

"Oh, I like you." Hubert clutched his side, chuckling. "I haven't had this much fun in centuries." Then, in a blur, he was gone again. Barton barely had ti to react. Hubert moved like a shadow.

The mont Barton rolled to his feet, pain exploded in his side. He barely saw the strike before he was sent crashing into a stack of barrels. Splinters bit into his arms. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself up. Blood dripped from his side. Hubert stood a few paces away, rolling his shoulders, his coat barely disturbed, though one could see so of the blood patches on the rather worn out coat and the thin cloth inside.

"You really are impressive," the vampire mused. "Most humans don't last this long. But you're still bleeding. And that ans you're slowing down."

"Yeah, well… you're still talking. That ans you're stalling." Barton said.

He drew another arrow, but his arm shook. Damn. He was losing too much blood. The wound in his side was deep, and his fingers felt colder by the second. Hubert noticed.

"You'll collapse before you ever hit again," the vampire said, stepping forward. "So I'll do you a favor. I'll make it quick."

Barton fired. Hubert caught the arrow mid-air and snapped it in half.

Then, in a blur, he was in front of him.

Barton barely registered the pain before he was airborne, hurled across the alley like a ragdoll. He hit the stone pavent hard, his bow clattering from his grip.

Hubert lood over him.

"You were fun," the vampire admitted, crouching beside him. "But I think it's ti I—"

A sudden roar of wind cut him off.

The alley flashed with blinding blue light. A pulse of energy slamd into Hubert, sending him skidding back. He hissed, shielding his eyes.