Pietro Maximoff took a single step backward, his characteristic cocky grin spreading across his face as he surveyed the tactical situation with the kind of casual confidence that came from possessing abilities that defied the laws of physics.
"Okay, hang on just a second," he said conversationally, as if he were discussing the weather rather than preparing to single-handedly disarm an entire team of professional killers.
In the space between one heartbeat and the next, Pietro became a silver blur that streaked across the landing platform with impossible speed. To the enhanced senses of the bounty hunters, he might as well have been a force of nature—invisible, unstoppable, and utterly beyond their ability to counter or resist.
When he came to a stop a microsecond later, every weapon the bounty hunters had been carrying lay in a neat pile at their feet, while Pietro stood casually beside the disarmed pile with his hands in his pockets.
"So," Pietro said with theatrical politeness, "would you folks care to surrender now? Because I have to tell you, this whole 'holding hostages and threatening politicians' thing is really starting to get on my nerves."
The Coruscant Guard needed no further encouragement. Commander Fox and his elite clone troopers raised their weapons with military precision, their targeting systems painting each bounty hunter with invisible laser designators while their fingers found the triggers of their DC-15 blaster rifles.
From her position near the platform's defensive structures, Natasha Romanoff emerged with the fluid grace of a predator who had been waiting for exactly this moment. Twin pistols appeared in her hands as if summoned by magic, their familiar weight and balance providing the kind of reassurance that only came from weapons that had been perfectly calibrated to their wielder's specifications.
Cad Bane's pale eyes blazed with fury as he realized how completely his carefully orchestrated plan had been compromised. But the Duros bounty hunter hadn't survived decades in one of the galaxy's most dangerous professions by panicking in the face of unexpected developments.
His hand moved to the communicator on his wrist with practiced efficiency, his mechanical voice carrying across the platform with deadly calm.
"It's your turn," he said into the device.
The response that came back was a sound that chilled the blood of every organic being within hearing range—a deep, rumbling laugh that seemed to emerge from the darkest corners of a nightmare. It was the sound of something that had once been sentient but had been transformed into something far more terrible.
A shadow fell across the landing platform as something large and fast descended from the Senate building's upper levels. Pietro's enhanced reflexes allowed him to detect the incoming threat before anyone else, his silver eyes widening in alarm as he recognized the distinctive silhouette.
"Oh, hell no," Pietro muttered, his super-speed carrying him away from his previous position just as a massive armored figure crashed onto the platform with enough force to crack the reinforced duracrete.
Durge straightened to his full, imposing height, his cybernetically enhanced form towering over the assembled clone troopers like some technological demon given physical form. The ancient bounty hunter had been transformed by millennia of combat and cybernetic enhancement into something that was no longer entirely organic, his body a fusion of flesh and machine that represented the darkest applications of bio-mechanical evolution.
"I hope you weren't getting bored waiting, Durge," Bane called out with obvious satisfaction.
"It's him!" one of the clone troopers shouted, his voice carrying the kind of terror that came from firsthand experience with an enemy who defied conventional tactics. "The monster that attacked Commander Gree's ship! All units, open fire!"
The platform erupted in blaster fire as every clone trooper opened up simultaneously, streams of superheated plasma converging on Durge's position with the kind of concentrated firepower that would have vaporized any normal opponent.
But Durge was anything but normal.
The energy bolts struck his cybernetic armor and were absorbed into his modified physiology, his body visibly swelling as the absorbed energy was converted into enhanced physical capabilities. Where the blaster fire should have reduced him to atomic particles, instead it seemed to make him stronger, faster, and infinitely more dangerous.
"Pathetic," Durge rumbled, his voice carrying the mechanical distortion of his cybernetic vocal cords. "You insects still haven't learned that conventional weapons only make me more powerful."
What followed was not a battle—it was a massacre.
Durge moved through the clone troopers with the efficiency of a natural disaster given malevolent intelligence. His cybernetically enhanced limbs possessed strength that could crush plasteel armor as easily as breaking glass, while his modified reflexes allowed him to react to multiple targets simultaneously.
The first trooper never had a chance to scream as Durge's massive hand closed around his helmet and squeezed, the reinforced armor providing no protection against grip strength that could bend durasteel. The second trooper managed to get off one more shot before Durge's other hand caught him by the throat and twisted, the sickening snap of breaking vertebrae echoing across the platform.
More clone troopers rushed forward, their military training overriding their survival instincts as they attempted to protect their fallen brothers. Durge met their charge with predatory enthusiasm, his cybernetic arms extending to impossible lengths as they were revealed to be mechanical appendages rather than organic limbs.
The retractable arms lashed out like deadly whips, their mechanical joints allowing them to bend and flex in ways that no biological limb could match. Clone troopers found themselves lifted off their feet and hurled into walls with bone-crushing force, or caught in mechanical grips that compressed their armor until it collapsed inward like crumpled paper.
"One hell of a way to have a reunion, huh Pietro?" Natasha called out, her twin pistols barking as she targeted the cybernetic joints and sensors that might represent vulnerabilities in Durge's enhanced anatomy.
Pietro gritted his teeth and threw himself into the fight with characteristic determination. His super-speed allowed him to reach endangered clone troopers before Durge's mechanical limbs could finish them off, whisking them to safety at velocities that made him effectively invisible to the naked eye.
But for every trooper he saved, two more fell to Durge's relentless assault. The cybernetic bounty hunter seemed to be everywhere at once, his multiple limbs striking independently while his enhanced sensors tracked targets with mechanical precision.
Natasha abandoned her defensive position and threw herself directly into the melee, her enhanced agility and combat training allowing her to weave between Durge's attacks while searching for tactical advantages. She managed to reach a wounded clone trooper just as one of Durge's mechanical arms was descending toward him, her body tackle carrying them both clear of the killing blow.
The chaos of the battle provided exactly the distraction that Cad Bane had been counting on. While Pietro, Natasha, and the surviving clone troopers struggled against Durge's mechanical fury, the bounty hunters made their escape to their waiting ship.
"Time to go!" Bane shouted to his team as they dragged Ziro the Hutt and the terrified Senator Free Taa toward their transport. "Our transportation is leaving with or without us!"
The bounty hunter ship lifted off from the platform with smooth efficiency, its engines providing the steady thrust needed to escape Coruscant's gravity well and reach the hyperspace jump point that would carry them beyond Republic pursuit.
"Durge, extraction now!" Bane called through his communicator.
The cybernetic bounty hunter looked up from the clone trooper he had been in the process of dismantling, his mechanical sensors immediately identifying the departing ship. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the platform's edge and launched himself into space with a leap that carried him nearly a hundred meters through thin air.
He landed on the ship's hull with an impact that sent shockwaves through the entire vessel, his magnetic grips automatically engaging to prevent him from being shaken loose by the ship's acceleration.
"You nearly capsized us, you mechanical moron!" Ziro complained from inside the ship, his Huttese curses filling the cabin until Durge's baleful glare silenced him.
"Shut up, you worthless pile of rotting meat," Durge replied with mechanical coldness that somehow made his threats more terrifying than any display of emotion.
As their ship gained altitude, Bane's sensors detected incoming Republic pursuit craft approaching from multiple vectors. A squadron of police gunships was attempting to intercept them before they could escape Coruscant's defensive perimeter.
"Well, well," Bane observed with predatory satisfaction, "it looks like our friends want to continue the party."
Durge's mechanical head swiveled toward the approaching craft, his enhanced vision systems immediately identifying the personnel aboard the lead gunship. Through the transparisteel cockpit, he could see six clone troopers and what appeared to be a Twi'lek civilian, probably a political observer or intelligence specialist.
"I'll handle this," Durge said with the kind of casual indifference normally reserved for discussing mundane tasks.
Without warning, he launched himself from their ship toward the lead pursuit craft, his trajectory calculated with mechanical precision to intersect the gunship's flight path at the optimal angle for maximum destructive impact.
The clone pilot had perhaps three seconds to register the incoming threat before Durge crashed through the gunship's armored hull like a living missile, his cybernetic mass tearing through military-grade armor plating as if it were tissue paper.
"Hello," Durge said conversationally to the six clone troopers and their Twi'lek passenger, his mechanical voice carrying an almost pleasant tone that made his words infinitely more terrifying.
The interior of the gunship was cramped, providing no room for evasive maneuvers or tactical formations. The clone troopers found themselves facing an enemy who was faster, stronger, and more durable than anything their training had prepared them for.
"Goodbye," Durge added with the same pleasant tone, just before he began killing them.
The Twi'lek civilian—a minor senator who had volunteered to accompany the rescue mission out of some misguided sense of civic duty—managed one horrified scream before Durge's mechanical fist connected with his face. The impact shattered bone and cartilage, sending the politician into unconsciousness that was probably a mercy considering what was happening to the clone troopers around him.
When Durge had finished his work, the gunship's interior resembled an abattoir more than a military transport. Blood coated every surface, while the twisted remains of what had once been elite Republic soldiers bore testament to the horrific efficiency of cybernetic enhancement applied to murderous purpose.
Durge crouched low and launched himself back toward his original ship, leaving the damaged gunship to spiral down toward Coruscant's surface in a trail of smoke and flame. The explosion that followed lit up the afternoon sky like a deadly firework, visible from dozens of kilometers away.
"It seems all this time passed hasn't affected your appetite for dramatic violence," Bane observed as Durge settled back onto their ship's hull.
"After being buried alive for more than half a century," Durge replied with mechanical precision, "I find that I have very little patience for inferior life forms who attempt to interfere with my objectives."
Ziro the Hutt wisely chose to remain silent rather than risk attracting the cybernetic bounty hunter's attention.
Back on the Senate building's landing platform, the aftermath of the battle resembled a war zone more than a government facility. Medical personnel swarmed across the bloodstained duracrete, providing emergency treatment to the wounded clone troopers while crime scene specialists attempted to catalog the evidence of what had occurred.
Pietro and Natasha stood side by side near the platform's edge, both covered in dust and minor injuries from their desperate battle against an opponent who had been essentially invulnerable to conventional attack. Around them, the sounds of medical equipment and urgent radio chatter created a backdrop of organized chaos.
"Well," Pietro said with forced lightness, "that wasn't quite how I expected to spend my afternoon."
"I have to admit," Natasha replied, flexing her shoulders to work out the kinks from their recent combat, "finding you here was definitely not part of my original mission plan."
"Speaking of which," Pietro continued, his curiosity finally overcoming his relief at their reunion, "what exactly were you doing working with those bounty hunters? Please tell me you weren't planning to actually help them escape with their hostages."
Natasha's smile carried the kind of professional satisfaction that came from a perfectly executed infiltration mission. "Just a temporary cooperation, Pietro. Sometimes the best way to stop a criminal operation is to become part of it long enough to understand how it works."
"So where have you been all this time?" Pietro asked, his voice carrying genuine concern for his teammate's welfare. "We've been searching for months without any trace of you, Wanda, or Vision."
"Same thing that happened to you, I assume," Natasha replied, her expression growing more serious. "One moment I was in the HYDRA base, the next I was waking up on a desert planet called Tatooine. Not exactly the most hospitable place in the galaxy, from what I've experienced."
"Never heard of it," Pietro said with a shrug.
Natasha's laugh carried genuine amusement despite their grim circumstances. "How many planets have you heard of, Pietro?"
Pietro scratched his head with obvious embarrassment. "Okay, you got me there. Not many. This whole 'galactic civilization' thing is still pretty new to me."
Their conversation was interrupted by the distinctive sound of Republic gunships approaching the platform. Pietro looked up to see a familiar craft settling onto the landing pad with smooth precision, its engines kicking up clouds of dust and debris as it touched down.
The gunship's doors opened to reveal four figures in combat gear, their movements carrying the kind of purposeful urgency that suggested they had been preparing for immediate action. Steve Rogers led the group, his vibranium shield secured to his back and his expression reflecting the focused intensity of a military commander assessing a combat situation.
Behind him came Sam Wilson, James Rhodes, and Hope van Dyne, all of them equipped for battle and clearly ready to engage whatever threats they might encounter. Their faces reflected a mixture of relief and concern as they surveyed the aftermath of the platform battle.
Steve's enhanced senses allowed him to immediately identify the most important details of the scene—wounded clone troopers receiving medical attention, evidence of severe combat, and most importantly, two figures standing near the platform's edge who shouldn't have been there.
His eyes locked onto Natasha Romanoff, and for a moment the legendary Captain America's composure faltered completely. His mouth opened slightly in disbelief, as if he were seeing a ghost or experiencing some kind of hallucination brought on by combat stress.
Steve blinked hard and looked again, his vision confirming what his emotional mind was afraid to believe. After months of searching, wondering, and fearing the worst, one of his missing teammates was standing right in front of him, alive and apparently unharmed.
Natasha's smile was radiant as she saw the recognition dawn in Steve's eyes. Without conscious thought, both of them began moving toward each other, their relief and joy overriding any consideration of military protocol or professional dignity.
They met in the middle of the platform in an embrace that spoke volumes about the bonds forged between individuals who had faced the impossible together and somehow survived to tell the tale. Steve's enhanced strength threatened to lift Natasha off her feet entirely, while she held onto him with the desperate intensity of someone who had feared this reunion might never happen.
"You don't know what it's been like," Steve began, his voice thick with emotion that he rarely allowed others to see.
"I know, Steve," Natasha replied softly, her own voice carrying the kind of warmth that she reserved for the few people she truly considered family. "I know."