Veyric and Colossus closed in fast. His pulse hammered, but the adrenaline of combat drowned out every ounce of fatigue the afternoon's training had left behind.
Up ahead, Blade crouched behind a mound of rubble. His black leather coat was slick with blood, wounds seeping from half a dozen places. Silver blade in hand, he scanned the darkness with the focus of a man running out of options.
"Damn it..." He ground his teeth. Falcon's ambush had destroyed his firearms completely. All he had left was steel and close quarters.
A mechanical shriek split the night sky. The whine of metal wings, growing louder. Falcon, diving again.
"Now!" Veyric shouted, and he and Colossus broke from cover together.
"Hey! Big bird!" Veyric yelled at full volume, waving his arms. "Over here! Fresh meat!"
Falcon's head snapped toward them. Hooked.
He banked hard and came screaming down at the two of them.
Blade seized the opening and scrambled from his position, though his injuries slowed every step.
"Blade, fall back! We've got this!"
Veyric kept his eyes locked on the incoming dive. Falcon's wings flared red as he dove, arm cannons unleashing a storm of gunfire.
"Get down!"
Colossus roared and threw himself in front of Veyric. Rounds sparked off his steel skin, each impact ringing like hammer on an anvil. Not a mark.
But Falcon was faster than expected. When the bullets failed, he didn't retreat. He accelerated, hurtling straight at them.
Colossus braced. Arms crossed over his chest, feet planted, ready for the impact.
One second before collision, Falcon's wings twisted. His entire body corkscrewed through a ninety-degree turn, slipped sideways, and flickered past Colossus, reappearing behind the metal giant.
Spider-Sense painted the moment in slow motion. Veyric watched Falcon's grotesque face lunge toward him, jaw gaping wide.
He'd been ready for this.
"Big guy, duck!"
Venom surged into his left leg. Veyric launched himself off the ground, vaulting over Colossus's shoulder and landing on the opposite side.
Falcon hadn't anticipated the move. He pulled up with everything he had, but one wing clipped Colossus as he flew past.
Sparks exploded. Falcon snarled as he staggered back into the air, wings tilting off-balance.
He touched his damaged wing, then fixed his gaze on the ground. On Veyric, specifically. Rage burned in those dead eyes.
"Damn... humans... I'll eat you..."
Tough words, but he stayed up there, circling. No second charge.
"Looks like we've got him pinned." Veyric ducked behind Colossus, keeping his voice low. "Your steel body is the perfect counter to those wings."
"Captain, you moved well yourself. Is that the result of Black Widow's training? Even I'm a little impressed."
"Uh... don't bother, big guy. Only us fragile types need combat training. If I had a body like yours, I'd skip straight to the bulldozer approach."
"At least we've got Falcon locked down. And Hawkeye hasn't taken any shots at us, which means Natasha's keeping him busy."
His gaze drifted to the seventh floor of the office building nearby.
"Hope she's doing okay..." he murmured.
On the other side of the battlefield, Black Widow slipped onto the seventh floor like a ghost.
The corridor stretched out in near-total darkness.
She moved along the wall, ears tuned to every whisper of sound.
A bowstring vibrated. Barely audible.
She rolled left on instinct. An explosive arrow detonated exactly where she'd been standing.
The blast tore through the hallway, hurling debris and dust, firelight flaring across every surface.
"Clint. Same old greeting, I see."
A cold smile. She was already behind new cover, mapping his position.
Hawkeye stood at the far end of the floor, silhouetted in moonlight, bow loaded with three arrows. The zombie virus had turned his eyes milky and dull, but the marksman's precision still lived behind them, cold and mechanical.
"Natasha... fresh meat..."
Three arrows flew in a triangular spread, sealing off every escape angle.
But Black Widow was Black Widow. Her body twisted mid-air in ways that defied anatomy, boneless as a serpent.
All three arrows grazed her suit and buried themselves in the wall behind her, shafts still quivering.
The instant she landed, her wrist flicked. Two Widow's Bite rounds fired.
One aimed straight at Hawkeye's face, forcing an evasion. The second anticipated his dodge path, cutting off any rightward movement.
He rolled right to avoid the first round. Straight into the second.
Electricity crackled through his body. His movements stuttered, fingers nearly losing their grip on the bow.
She pounced. The tactic was textbook: close the distance. Once she was inside his range, every advantage the bow gave him evaporated.
Hawkeye read the rush. He abandoned the bow entirely and drew a combat knife from his belt, reversing his grip, slashing down at her as she charged. The virus had stripped away much of his rational mind, but it had fed something else in return. Feral instinct. Raw, amplified strength.
Steel clashed against steel.
Natasha crossed her shock batons in front of her, catching the blade between them. The impact shuddered through her arms. Sparks burst from the contact point, illuminating Hawkeye's rotting face, his expression twisted with hunger.
"You're slower than you used to be, Clint!" She barked it through gritted teeth, leveraged his force to fall backward, and whipped her right leg up at his jaw like a lash.
A ragged growl tore from his throat. Instead of dodging, he pressed forward through the kick, driving into her. The knife edge slid along one of her batons, racing toward her fingers.
They tangled together in the narrow corridor, a blur of blade-light and crackling electricity.
Natasha bounced between walls and rubble, fluid and relentless, every counter-strike aimed at joints and pressure points.
Hawkeye fought like a machine that didn't know how to stop. No defense. Every slash meant to gut whatever stood in front of him.
Damn it, Clint, you've completely lost it...
She couldn't afford to deal lethal damage to a teammate she intended to save. That constraint forced her onto the defensive, and the balance was tipping against her.
His knife arced again.
The blade whispered past her cheek, close enough to shear away a few strands of red hair. A gap opened in her guard. Small, but real.
Not good...
In that instant of life and death...
The window at the side of the corridor, exploded inward. Air and broken glass roared through the hallway.
Before either of them could react, a line of white webbing shot through the window, latching onto Hawkeye's knife arm with a sharp snap.
An irresistible force wrenched him backward along the web line.
"Sorry, traffic was a nightmare, but I made it. Barely."
From beyond the shattered window, Spider-Man's voice rang out into the night.