Half an Hour Earlier
Hawkeye's POV
"Hi, my na is Clint Barton, but most people know as Hawkeye. I'm just a regular guy with a bow, but I've taken down all kinds of supers. So call them mutants, others enhanced, but to , they're just people with abilities. And this 'normal guy' has beaten them all."
I marked another entry in my diary: Another Super Defeated.
"Check," I mumbled, satisfied, and then glanced at my communicator.
"Barton," a familiar voice crackled through. It was Director Fury.
"Hello, Fury," I replied, surprised. Normally, Fury calls us into his office for missions, not like this. The urgency in his voice ant this wasn't your average assignnt.
"I need you to head to Fisk Tower and save a young man nad Dave Garcia," Fury instructed before abruptly cutting the call.
As I thought about the mission, I couldn't help but wonder who my partner would be. It's rare for Fury to leave in the dark like this.
"Hm, Fisk... there are always a few supers under his command," I muttered to myself, moving out and ready to head toward Fisk Tower.
Upon arriving, I spotted the redhead I once saved. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow—emotionless on the surface, but I knew better. Deep down, she's broken, more than anyone can imagine. That's why I helped her back then, and now she's working with in SHIELD.
"Hello, Natasha," I greeted as I approached.
"Barton," she replied coolly, her eyes fixed on Fisk Tower in the distance. We were standing on the rooftop of a nearby building, watching the tower like predators stalking prey.
"Sothing's wrong in there," Natasha said, handing a pair of binoculars. I took them and looked through, seeing exactly what she ant.
"It seems this guy, Dave Garcia, is in serious trouble," I mumbled, spotting a perfect headshot opportunity through the window. The young man was surrounded by danger, the threat obvious even from a distance.
"You studied him on the way?" Natasha asked, her tone indifferent as usual.
"Yeah, I usually do my howork. But this ti, Fury's urgency threw off. Didn't get much ti to dig deeper," I admitted, lowering the binoculars as I glanced at her. She knew I was thorough. Normally, I wouldn't be this uninford.
"Fury ntioned a subordinate of his—Trish. Supposedly soone who can control emotions well," Natasha added, briefing on what little she'd learned.
We moved in silently, our senses heightened as we approached Fisk Tower. The air was thick with tension, like walking into a tomb.
"The killer here didn't hold back," I muttered, looking down at the headless corpses scattered throughout the hallway. It was brutal—clean, efficient, and ruthless. Each wound was perfectly executed, their heads severed in one swift motion. Their bodies were shattered, bloodless, like they'd been crushed before they could even bleed.
"Whoever did this isn't just skilled—they're a monster," Natasha whispered, her voice almost lost in the eerie silence.
"Hm, do you think it was Dave or soone he hired?" I asked. Normally, I wouldn't jump to conclusions, but the guns were still fully loaded. These guys never even had a chance to pull the trigger.
"This might be tough for even us," I muttered, glancing ahead where the trail of headless corpses led deeper into the tower.
With Natasha by my side, we began our climb. The lift was out of order, but we wouldn't have used it anyway—spy job and all that. As we ascended the stairwell, we moved past body after body, each one as brutalized as the last.
"Really... what kind of monster are we dealing with?" I said quietly, loading an arrow onto my bow. There was no room for complacency here, not with this kind of carnage around us.
"A big one," Natasha replied, her Widow's Bite bracelets ard and ready. She scanned our surroundings as vigilantly as I did.
Soon, we reached the top, passing all the dead bodies along the way. The silence was unsettling.
"I sense movent inside," Natasha said, her eyes narrowing. I nodded, bracing myself.
"One, two, three. Three people," she counted in a low voice as she prepared to breach the door.
I nodded again. We moved in sync.
"Kick," Natasha ordered. I kicked the door open, and we stord inside, our weapons at the ready.
But what we saw wasn't what we expected.
"What the hell is going on here?" I whispered, half in shock.
There, in the middle of the room, stood the shirtless Dave Garcia—the guy we were sent to save. Fisk was on his knees, clearly disoriented. And standing like a queen beside him was a beautiful girl, no older than twenty, with her leg pressed against Fisk's head as if she owned the place. Diana, our agent, had her gun drawn and pointed at the young woman, while an assassin—one of Fisk's—was pinned upside down on the wall, lifeless.
I glanced at Natasha, and she looked back at , both of us sharing the sa thought: What the hell just happened here?
I tightened my grip on the bowstring, not lowering my aim, even at Dave—the guy we were supposed to rescue. Just earlier, he was at gunpoint, and now he was standing there like nothing had happened. I couldn't make heads or tails of the situation.
"Natalia, you did say there's one that can manipulate emotions, right?" I muttered, keeping my eyes locked on the winged girl. She was the only one here that fit the description. "Stay sharp. I think she's turned him into her puppet."
Natasha gave a silent nod, her stance tense and ready. It wasn't common for supers to turn on their own like this, but the clues were stacking up. She glanced at Trish, and with Diana pointing her gun at the girl, it seed we had the situation laid out before us.
Still, we didn't move. The air was thick with uncertainty. One wrong step, and things could go from bad to worse in a heartbeat.
"Let's not make any sudden moves," I added, eyeing Dave for any signs of trouble.
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