"How do you work this thing?"
Holding the latest smartphone, Steve asked for help with an embarrassed look on his face.
"I think it's better if you take things one step at a time. Don't try to cram seventy years of learning into one night," Sharon said with a gentle smile. She reached out and slid her index finger lightly across the screen.
"Understood. Thank you." Steve held the phone to his ear.
"Captain!" Fury's unwavering, gravelly voice came through.
"Fury! What's going on?"
"We have a problem, and I need your help."
Hearing the urgency in his tone, Steve's expression sharpened. "Who is the enemy? The Joker Organization?"
"Grab your gear. I'll fill you in on the details en route. A Quinjet will be at your front door in three minutes."
"I'm on it!"
Pocketing the phone, Steve rushed back into his room. Sharon stood where she was, her eyes clouded with worry. Steve might not fully grasp what the Joker Organization represented yet, but as a New Yorker, she knew. Everyone knew.
Steve stripped off his casual clothes with practiced efficiency. He opened the reinforced locker in his closet and donned the uniform SHIELD had specially tailored for him. As a soldier, he couldn't imagine going into battle without his colors.
The design was identical to the one he had worn with the Howling Commandos; the original was currently behind glass in a museum. The fabric was a cutting-edge nanomaterial—bulletproof, blade-resistant, and capable of absorbing significant kinetic shock. While this level of protection meant little to Steve or the kind of enemies he faced, it was a kind gesture from SHIELD, and it was better than nothing.
Dressed in his new uniform and gripping his old shield, Steve stood before the full-length mirror. The man looking back was so familiar it made him dizzy; for a second, it felt like his final battle with Hydra had happened only yesterday.
Soon, the floor and windows began to vibrate violently, accompanied by a low, rhythmic thrumming. Steve pushed open the window to see a high-tech aircraft—sleek and unlike anything he had ever seen—descending toward the street, drawing a crowd of onlookers.
The jet arrived early. Steve didn't hesitate; he vaulted from the rooftop and dropped straight into the open bay of the hovering craft.
"Captain!"
"Captain!"
The New York SHIELD agents inside the cabin greeted him with crisp salutes and starstruck gazes. To these men—soldiers and spies alike—Captain America was the ultimate icon.
Steve nodded to them, his focus singular. As the jet banked and accelerated, he asked, "What exactly happened?"
An agent handed him a comms tablet and tapped a video file of the ongoing chaos.
*
As Alex tore through New York, news of the rampage spread across the internet like wildfire. Because Jason had given specific instructions to monitor such events, Chloe was on high alert. The moment she gathered the intel, she transmitted it to him.
In a luxury villa on the outskirts of the city, Jason was pacing the floor, a crying infant in each arm. He looked bewildered, unsure if they were hungry or just being difficult. In the kitchen, professional pediatric nutritionists were busy preparing vegetable and meat purees.
"Sir, your phone," A subordinate said, stepping forward and respectfully holding out the device.
Two nannies immediately stepped in to take the babies, much to Jason's relief. He checked his phone and saw several video clips from Chloe. They were grainy, filmed by frantic pedestrians, but they clearly showed a high-speed pursuit through the city.
Chloe:Sir, is this guy being chased our late associate?
Jason watched the footage and replied: Not sure yet. Anything else?
Chloe quickly sent over a few photos: The exterior wall of this apartment was blown out from the inside. Looking at the scorch marks, it was definitely a directed-energy weapon. There's a massive amount of blood on the street—enough that a normal person shouldn't be standing.
Laser weapons? In the United States, aside from the Joker Organization, only SHIELD had the audacity to use such heavy-duty gear in public. Combined with the staggering amount of blood loss, the identity of the person being chased was becoming obvious.
"I'm heading out. Don't let the kids stay up too late," Jason told his butler, his tone as casual as a man heading out for a post-dinner stroll.
"Understood, sir."
*
Alex was redlining the engine as he wove through the city center. Despite pushing his stolen car to its limit, the agents behind him were like leeches, impossible to shake. He was frantic, his options dwindling.
BANG!
His rear right tire blew out. The rim scraped against the asphalt, sending up a shower of sparks and effectively ending his chances of outrunning them.
"Damn it! You're forcing my hand!" Alex snarled through gritted teeth.
He spotted a shopping mall just ahead. He wrenched the steering wheel to the right, and the car careened off the road, hurtling toward the entrance.
"Shit! He's cornered and desperate!" A SHIELD agent yelled, but there was no way to intercept him in time.
CRASH!
The glass doors of the mall's ground floor shattered. The car skidded across the polished tile floor like a wild beast, sending shoppers flying as it drifted out of control.
"AHHHHH!"
The mall erupted in screams the moment the car came to a halt. Panicked civilians scrambled in every direction. Alex kicked the car door off its hinges, his eyes scanning the crowd like a starving wolf. He found a target and lunged.
Half a minute later, the SHIELD team arrived. Several agents armed with assault rifles stormed in, followed closely by Coulson with the laser cannon.
Most of the shoppers on the first floor had already fled. The pale yellow tiles were slick with blood, and the dark streaks left by the skidding car tires were horrifying. The car was mangled, and a dozen people lay scattered along its path—some wailing in pain, others deathly still.
"Monster! God damn him!" Coulson hissed, his face turning pale with rage. He had promised Fury he'd get the job done, and now he was looking at a massacre.
"Sir, what do we do?"
Coulson surveyed the carnage, trying to remain cold. "We don't know if he blended into the crowd to escape. Regardless, call for medical choppers. Seal the building—nobody in, nobody out."
"Understood!"
The agents fanned out. Coulson, still clutching the laser cannon, walked toward the wreckage of the car to look for clues. As he rounded the front of the vehicle, he spotted a pair of pale, slender legs.
He knelt down. Trapped under the front wheel was a young woman covered in blood. Her dark hair was matted to her face by the thick, crimson liquid.
"Shit!"
Coulson felt a jolt of pure fury. "Bastard! I'm going to kill you!"
His voice trembled as he cursed. He set the laser cannon down and grabbed the woman's legs to pull her free from the undercarriage. Fortunately, she was petite and wasn't snagged on the chassis; he managed to pull her out with little effort.
He pressed his fingers to her carotid artery. No pulse.
Coulson closed his eyes and let out a heavy, ragged sigh. "Lord, forgive us."
He stayed on his knees for a moment, offering a silent prayer over the body. But as he turned to stand up and leave, the corpse behind him suddenly moved.
.
.
.
.
You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
500 power stones.
Top 100. All time.