Abomination thrashed violently, his body wrapped in the crimson chains of Cyttorak. To Gene's surprise, the monstrous brute was beginning to
Abomination thrashed violently, his body wrapped in the crimson chains of Cyttorak. To Gene's surprise, the monstrous brute was beginning to
Abomination thrashed violently, his body wrapped in the crimson chains of Cyttorak. To Gene's surprise, the monstrous brute was beginning to strain those unbreakable bindings.
Gene had only borrowed a fraction of Cyttorak's power from the Crimson Cosmos—enough to conserve energy and avoid unnecessary debt. But even that fraction should have been impossible to overcome.
Yet here Abomination was, using nothing but brute strength to shake the very foundations of magical law. That alone meant he had evolved into something beyond ordinary comprehension—powerful enough to challenge the rules themselves.
But it didn't matter anymore.
Because S.W.O.R.D. had arrived.
A beam of pure white light split the sky like the blade of divine judgment. It wasn't just light—it was wrath. As if Heaven itself had drawn a blade and cast it down upon Earth.
The beam pierced the atmosphere in an instant, ripping through the sky like parchment, stabbing directly into the ground below.
Abomination and the Lizard, for all their overwhelming might, were nothing but ants in a sandstorm before this cosmic punishment.
Even if they hadn't been bound, they wouldn't have escaped.
The moment the beam touched down, their eyes were seared blind. The brilliant white sword pierced straight through their monstrous bodies, tearing apart flesh that once shrugged off missiles.
Their skin, once nearly indestructible, melted like old parchment. Their bones—stronger than steel—exploded into ash.
The impact drove them downward—past the crust, deep into the mantle—until their very atoms were vaporized by the fury of S.W.O.R.D.
Then silence.
As the light faded, what remained was a colossal crater—tens of meters wide. Faint white smoke curled upward from its depths. The surrounding earth had melted and re-hardened into glass, reflecting the devastation like a funeral mirror.
There was no trace of life.
No pulse.
No cell.
No ash.
"Sir," came Skynet's voice, calm and cool as ever, "Initial field test appears... satisfactory."
Gene looked at the glowing pit.
His armor's scanners swept the zone.
Zero life signs.
"Hmm. Passable," he replied.
To anyone listening—especially a military expert—that response would've been a slap to the face. Passable? That blast could wipe an entire nation off the map.
But to Gene?
It was just another tool.
If a world leader had witnessed that strike, they'd have dropped to their knees and begged to serve the man who wielded it.
Gene returned to the base.
Without Abomination and the Lizard disrupting the battlefield, the rest of the fight had gone absurdly well. Baron Zemo had already been restrained. The Taskmaster, demoralized and bribed with promises too good to resist, had surrendered.
Living Laser had been launched into deep space.
Abomination and the Lizard?
Erased by S.W.O.R.D.
Zemo's master plan—one he'd spent years building—was now dust.
Maybe he could try again in his next life.
But one mystery still lingered…
Enchantress Amora and the Executioner had vanished.
"I… I'm sorry, boss." Wanda lowered her head, looking like a scolded child. "Amora and her henchman... escaped. I was about to bind them when a surge of powerful blue energy descended onto the base."
She glanced up, biting her lip.
"They disappeared with the light."
Gene's V-shaped visor gleamed coldly.
"Blue energy," he repeated. "Are we talking magic?"
"I think so, boss," Wanda said, frowning. "It was definitely magic. But it didn't feel like hers. It wasn't seductive or chaotic. It felt… noble. Righteous. Overwhelming, like a higher order. Nothing like what Amora usually casts."
Gene remained silent, deep in thought.
His runic barrier—designed to keep intruders from teleporting or phasing through dimensional space—hadn't been bypassed.
It had been shattered.
From the outside.
Only a handful of sorcerers could accomplish that. And most of them were either dead… or didn't care about Earth.
Maybe if the Ancient One were still alive…
Maybe Dormammu could do it—but even that was a stretch.
"Uncontrolled variables…" Gene muttered, then turned to Wanda. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder.
"You did well. Don't blame yourself."
Then he turned toward the restrained form of Baron Zemo.
Kneeling beside the fallen man, Gene's mechanical voice echoed through the room.
"Now then, Baron Zemo… I think it's time we had a little chat."
Helmut Zemo.
The man who inherited the bloody legacy of Heinrich Zemo—the original Hydra zealot. His lineage traced back to World War II, where his father had once faced off against Captain America and given the Howling Commandos hell.
Helmut had one goal:
To become the supreme leader of Hydra.
But just as he had begun consolidating his power—recruiting, scheming, plotting—someone appeared.
A figure called The Black Devil.
In a flash, Zemo's plans were obliterated.
His power base dismantled. His lieutenants scattered. Even the scraps he hoped to rebuild from had been taken.
His blood boiled.
Zemo had tried to adapt. He'd formed a new plan—one involving the world's deadliest supervillains. He would unite them, mold them into a force of terror, and strike back.
He'd even believed it might work.
And now?
Now he was face down in the dirt, bound like a dog, glaring helplessly up at the very man who had destroyed everything he'd ever built.
There was only one thing left he could do—
Glare.
Grit his teeth.
And curse the name Gene Mason until his final breath.
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