Chapter 15
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The rumble of the black Quinjet echoed over the rooftops, slicing through the heavy skies that hung over the city. Inside, tension simmered.
"Remember," Fury's voice crackled through the comms, sharp and cold, "this is not your usual mission. You're walking into something unknown. Don't rely on your instincts alone—listen, adapt, and survive."
Clint Barton sat casually in the bay, sharpening an arrowhead with deliberate rhythm, his eyes focused but unreadable. "So... we're helping out the guy in red and gold? Again?"
Beside him, Natasha Romanoff holstered her twin batons, her tone flat but dry, "Try not to get knocked out this time."
Clint smirked, "I'll make no promises."
The back hatch opened mid-hover, and without hesitation, the two leapt out with the squad, landing cleanly amidst the chaos. What greeted them wasn't a warzone—it was worse. Civilians screamed as they fled, twisted silhouettes lurched through broken streets, and the sky was thick with miasma that made your skin crawl just by looking at it.
Tony hovered above, blasting one of the warp-corrupted mutants in the head before it could pounce on a child. He turned mid-air, catching sight of the incoming agents. "Well, well, the circus sent its two best performers. Did the rest of the clowns stay home, or what?"
Clint notched an arrow with a grin. "And here I thought you'd be buried under all the praise you never stop giving yourself."
Natasha flipped mid-run, slamming her baton into the gut of a creature, the electric discharge sending it skidding backward in a twitching heap. "We figured you'd need adults on the field."
Tony let out a dry laugh. "Cute. Now move your asses—these things multiply like roaches on a caffeine drip."
The ground shook as another group of warp-corrupted emerged from the shadows, grotesque, ever-shifting forms, some still bearing the twisted remnants of what they used to be. Their flesh pulsed, bones warped, and eyes flickered with unnatural light. Clint fired an explosive arrow directly into the center of the mob—detonating mid-air, showering limbs and greenish ichor across the pavement.
"Jarvis!" Tony called as he swerved to dodge a long tendril swiping at his chest.
"Sir, I recommend we split the formation. Agent Barton and Romanoff can support from the flanks while you hold the central breach. The eastern sector is thinning, but the western alley is showing increased warp saturation."
"Noted." Tony dived, blasting a creature mid-leap, its face split open like a flower revealing rows of eyes. "You hear that, lovebirds? East is yours. Try not to let anything sneak up on you—especially your feelings."
Natasha responded by launching a grappling line and hurling herself toward another corrupted creature, slamming her knee into its head before cracking its neck clean. "We'll save the romantic walk for when the screaming stops."
Clint sprinted across a crumbled rooftop, firing arrows with precision. Each tip was specially crafted—acid, concussive, incendiary. Every shot counted, and he made sure they landed.
But even with their skill, the numbers kept growing.
Tony grunted as his armor sparked from a lucky hit. His sword whirred to life as he sliced through a larger creature that had nearly flanked him. The blade hummed with radiant energy, cutting through warp flesh like it was paper. He had designed this blade with the memory of Vulkan's forge still fresh in his mind—its edge infused with resonance frequencies meant to repel unnatural matter. But even with it, he was being pushed back.
More civilians screamed in the distance, caught in the rising tide of corruption. Warped energy rolled across the ground like smoke, tendrils licking at the air.
"Jarvis! Tell me something good!"
"I believe you'll find the upcoming development... energizing," Jarvis replied coolly. "Long-range scans have confirmed that the source of the warp disturbance is now attracting a familiar presence. Primarch-class."
Tony's eyes lit up. "He's coming?"
"Affirmative, sir. Vulkan is en route."
Tony let out a laugh as he blew off the head of a snarling beast with a repulsor blast. "Now we're talking. Boys and girls, hang tight—reinforcements are about to arrive. And you do *not* wanna miss this show."
As if hearing his name whispered across dimensions, the ground trembled subtly beneath their feet. A heat wave pulsed in the distance—raw, living, primal.
Then the camera of the world seemed to shift.
Amid the smoke and flame, deep in the heart of the storm, stood Kevin. His small frame was shaking, his breath ragged, eyes wild with fear. Around him, the warp miasma pulsed thicker, swirling in rhythm with something deeper... older... darker.
Whispers slithered through the air, invisible yet felt in the marrow.
**You are more than them.**
**They fear what they cannot control.**
**Let us guide you...**
Kevin clutched his head, the voices clawing through his skull like glass shards.
**All you must do is let go...**
The scene faded to black as the whispers echoed, sinister and soft.
**Let go...**
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