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"Stane?"
Coulson's eyebrows lifted, real surprise flickering across his face. This wasn't how arrests were supposed to go. Targets didn't usually welcome you like you were late to a dinner reservation.
And in the very next heartbeat, Coulson connected the dots.
'He knew.'
Obadiah Stane had to have gotten the warning ahead of time; otherwise, he wouldn't be standing here in the open, waiting for them with that smug, ready-for-a-photo-op posture.
'But how? How had the operation leaked this fast?'
Coulson's mind ran through the possibilities like a checklist. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't some local police department. It wasn't supposed to spring leaks unless someone had drilled holes into it from the inside.
And the fact that Stane looked this relaxed, this arrogant, even knowing who was outside his gate…
It only meant one thing.
He wasn't scared.
He was confident, confident enough to treat a strike team like a minor inconvenience. Which meant his Devil Fruit ability was probably anything but weak.
"Well," Stane said, voice lazy as he flicked his cigar aside like it had done its job, "you finally made it. I've been waiting a while."
So Coulson had been right. His expression hardened, and the air around the team shifted, tense, sharp, like a wire pulled too tight.
"Obadiah Stane," Coulson said coldly, stepping forward, "you are under arrest for orchestrating the kidnapping and attempted murder of Tony Stark through Middle Eastern terrorist groups, as well as for trafficking weapons to terrorists. The evidence is conclusive."
"Arrest me?" Stane barked out a laugh. "With you people?"
Then he thrust both arms forward.
*Krrrk...Krrrk...Krrrk!*
A string of harsh mechanical sounds ripped through the courtyard.
Coulson's eyes widened as Stane's arms began to warp, twisting and reshaping in an exaggerated, unsettling way, like metal and flesh had decided to stop arguing and just become one horrifying thing together.
In the blink of an eye, his arms were simply… gone.
In their place: two enormous Gatling gun barrels, heavy and gleaming, aimed straight at them.
"MOVE!" Coulson shouted, voice snapping like a whip. "TAKE COVER!"
*RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!*
The courtyard exploded into chaos.
A brutal storm of gunfire tore across the entrance, shredding the air with a roar so loud it felt physical. Bullets sprayed in sweeping arcs, chewing through stone and metal alike as they raked toward the agents.
No one, no one, was brave enough to stand in the open against that.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents scattered instantly, diving, rolling, throwing themselves behind walls, vehicles, pillars, anything that might stop a bullet. No one dared lift their heads for more than a second.
Even then, not everyone was fast enough.
Four or five agents were caught in the open, hit before they could reach cover. They dropped hard, motionless, the fight ending for them before it had even properly started.
For a fraction of a moment, the only sounds were gunfire, ricochets, and the frantic scramble of boots against stone.
Then, behind cover, Coulson's jaw tightened.
"So this…" he muttered, voice grim, "is what the Munch-Munch Fruit can do."
Nearby, Clint Barton and Coulson exchanged a quick look, one of those silent, 'we just learned something awful' kind of looks. The kind you only make when you realize the plan you walked in with no longer exists.
They hadn't just underestimated Stane.
They'd underestimated the fruit itself.
And the worst part?
The clash had barely begun… yet S.H.I.E.L.D. was already getting pushed back, hard, like they'd brought a rulebook to a fight where Stane had decided rules were optional.
Stane's laughter erupted like thunder, loud enough to feel like it was shaking the air itself.
"HAHAHAHAHA! Let me show you what the Munch-Munch Fruit can really do!"
His voice dripped with giddy confidence, like this wasn't a fight, but a demo reel.
"You think you can arrest me?" he snarled. "You're delusional!"
His twin Gatling-gun arms swept back and forth in wide arcs, spraying bullets like a storm. The courtyard became a kill zone, stone chips flying, metal screaming as rounds tore through anything that dared stick out.
Everyone was pinned.
No one could even peek without risking their head turning into a bad memory.
"Sir, his firepower is overwhelming!" one agent shouted toward Coulson, half-panicked, half-desperate.
And he wasn't wrong.
Even for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best, this wasn't something you "handle." It was something you survive.
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
Natasha seized a tiny opening, barely a heartbeat, and popped out from cover. Her pistol snapped three times in quick, clean shots, each one aimed with surgeon-level precision.
*CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!*
The bullets struck Stane's torso… and bounced off like they'd hit a steel drum.
Stane didn't even flinch.
"Everyone, listen up!" Natasha shouted immediately, ducking back. "His body's turned metallic!"
The words hit the agents like a bucket of ice water.
Great.
So not only did he have absurd firepower, he was basically bulletproof now too.
A few agents exchanged looks that practically screamed: 'How are we supposed to arrest a walking tank with a Gatling addiction?'
Coulson's jaw clenched. He didn't waste time pretending the standard playbook would work.
"Barton!" he shouted toward the far side of the courtyard.
If anyone could change the flow of this fight, it had to be the one person on their team who could fight a Devil Fruit user with Devil Fruit abilities.
"Understood, sir!" came Clint's immediate response.
With a focused breath, Clint shifted. His hands sharpened into lethal talons, and subtle avian features traced across his face, half-human, half-falcon.
*BAM!*
He slammed a clawed hand into the massive crate he'd been using as cover. The impact sounded like a wrecking ball hitting concrete.
The crate, taller than a man, lurched, lifted, and then launched into the air, hurtling straight toward Stane like an improvised missile.
For a split second, it looked like a solid move.
Then Stane's mocking voice cut through the chaos.
"Not a bad attempt."
The Gatling barrel on his right arm twisted and reshaped itself, transforming into a rocket launcher in an instant.
*BOOM!*
A missile screamed out and slammed into the airborne crate, detonating on impact. The explosion shredded it into splinters and fragments, raining debris across the courtyard like angry confetti.
And Stane, smug, metallic, and grinning through the smoke, stood there like he was having the time of his life.
*WHOOSH!*
But in that exact moment, while Stane's attention was still tilted toward the ruined crate and the smoke, Hawkeye's wings snapped open with a sharp, powerful flick.
Before anyone could even blink, he launched and shot forward like a living projectile.
In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Stane.
*WHAM!*
He drove a brutal punch straight into Stane's chest. The impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a car door.
Stane's huge body lifted clean off the ground, flying backward like a wrecking ball. He slammed into the wall with a thunderous crash, stone exploding outward as his weight left a crater in the masonry.
For half a second, the courtyard went quiet, like everyone collectively thought, 'Okay, that had to count for something.'
Then Stane stood up, almost immediately.
His steel-like body creaked once as he rolled his shoulders, more annoyed than hurt. The blow hadn't really injured him, but it had forced his attention where it needed to be.
"You…" Stane said slowly, staring at Hawkeye with open surprise. "A Zoan-type Devil Fruit user?"
Then his expression shifted, surprise melting into something eager and hungry.
Another Devil Fruit user… delivered right to his doorstep.
If Stane had been the kind of guy who believed in luck, he might've started laughing again. Instead, his grin widened like he'd just found an extra dessert he didn't know he ordered.
"Even though you're Zoan," Stane said, tilting his head as he looked Hawkeye up and down, "you're better than I expected. Seems I've been… a little narrow-minded."
He gave a small, satisfied nod, like he was revising an opinion about a product line.
He'd always looked down on Zoan's abilities as "simple." Muscle. Instinct. Animal tricks.
But the one in front of him? He's fast, strong, smart...
And, most importantly, useful.
Definitely worth swallowing.
"You're mine!" His arms snapped back into shape with a harsh mechanical roar.
*RAT-TAT-TAT! RAT-TAT-TAT!*
With a harsh roar, Stane's arms transformed back into Gatlings and unleashed another torrent of fire, this time aimed directly at Hawkeye.
*WHOOSH!*
Hawkeye wasn't slow in the slightest. With one powerful beat of his wings, he rocketed upward, straight into the sky, vanishing from sight almost instantly.
His flight speed was insane, far beyond what any normal person could track. One second, he was there; the next second, he was basically a rumor with feathers.
*SWISH!*
At the same time, an arrow streaked toward Stane from above, cutting through the air in a clean, sharp line.
*CLANG!*
It hit Stane's metallic body… and bounced off harmlessly, dropping to the ground with a pathetic little clatter.
Stane actually scoffed out loud.
"An arrow?" he said, sounding genuinely offended. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is getting a little primitive, don't you think?"
And then—
*BOOM!*
The arrow detonated.
A violent shockwave erupted like a grenade going off at his feet, blasting Stane off balance and slamming him hard into the ground.
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Next Chapter: S.H.I.E.L.D. Is Powerless
Next Next Chapter: A Fated Showdown: Iron Monger vs. Tony Stark
Next Next Next Chapter: Arms-Arms Fruit: Evolution
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