A Pleasant Day in Murderworld
Sanctum Sanctorum
"God, I hate this place so much," Tony muttered as he and Carol found a place to sit in the living room after finally making it back from the Valley of Shadows. As long as he lived, Tony would have been happy to never return to that hellhole.
He was wrong about Gene. He was so wrong, it actually scared him. For some reason or another, he got it in his head that Gene was still the care-free playboy he was when they went to MIT together all those years ago. Back then, the only thing they fought over was who was taking the buxom blonde girl in the short red dress home. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine fighting for his life.
His hand idly touched the bandage that covered the three puncture wounds just below his shoulder. It shouldn't have been possible. There shouldn't have been any way he would have punch his fingers through gold-titanium alloy, reinforced to weather hits from the likes of She-Hulk. It just... shouldn't have been possible. Yet, the impossible had been happening on a consistent basis for the last several years, with no signs of quitting while it was ahead. It was too the point that the word impossible had lost all meaning.
"Apologies, Mr. Stark," Dr. Strange said rather sardonically as he literally floated toward them. "If all goes well with your next mission, you all won't be here for long."
"Why do I get the feeling you'll be kicking us out regardless?" Carol inquired, cutting her eyes toward at a woman talking to Wong in the hall. The woman was dressed in a purple and black top with black pants and purple boots. She had long white hair, but couldn't be any older than forty. They were too far to know for sure, but it appeared that there was some kind of floral pattern on her outfit. Roses from what it looked like.
Strange cleared his throat, hoping that the warmth creeping across his cheeks wasn't too noticeable. "Well, no. The import of our current predicament outweighs my and Clea's, um..."
"Date night?" Tony finished with a sly grin.
Strange kept his lips sealed out of fear of embarrassing himself. There were times when silence was a perfectly acceptable and powerful answer; this was not one of those times.
"I have to say," Tony said as he glanced at Clea again, "you can certainly do a lot worse."
"I'm well aware." Strange was quick to take his leave, leaving Carol and Tony laughing between themselves.
"A sight I didn't think I'd ever see," Natasha remarked as she walked up to them. "You two actually getting along."
"You know I had my brain shutdown at Mandarin's palace, right? This is a consequence of that," Carol answered with only a hint of the bitter grimace she was holding inwardly.
Tony rolled his eyes, though he caught the bitterness, as did Natasha. "Sure. Just admit you like me so we can move on, Danvers."
"We had one heart to heart, Stark. That's not enough for the years of ridicule you've besieged me with."
"Ridicule?"
"You making fun of me for actually paying attention to Rhodey." She folded her arms and crossed her legs, daring him to deny it.
He couldn't. "Alright, so maybe I poked a tiny bit of fun at you."
"Tiny, he says."
"Alright, team, listen up," Coulson spoke over the various conversations taking place around the living room and the adjacent hallway. "I just finished talking with Professor Xavier about the best course to take with Jean's kidnapping. I want seven of you to team with Cyclops and infiltrate Castle Doom to get her back. I know the place is crawling with supervillains and fuck knows what else, and that's why I want Rambeau to go."
She nodded and stood up from her seat by the fireplace. "You got it."
"When you finish assembling the team, talk with Black Widow in the briefing room for briefing."
After several minutes of deliberation, they decided on the team – Cyclops, Spectrum, Wolverine, Hawkeye, Mr. Fantastic, Storm, Black Widow, and Iceman. They filed out of the living room and stepped into the room that had very crudely been labeled as the briefing room. There they found none other than Yelena Belova looking intently at a SHIELD laptop.
"What the fuck?" Clint looked at the blonde spy, then stared incredulously at her redheaded namesake. "Is this what the hell you meant by Belova going straight?!"
Natasha's expression was the picture of innocence. "Of course, Barton. What else could I have meant?" She smirked and sidled up next to her ward. "Is the secret way into Doom's castle still functional?"
"Da." She placed a small holographic projector on the table in front of her and turned it on. A translucent green image of Castle Doom filled the space between her and the team. "There is little doubt that Doom knows you're coming, so the only way to infiltrate the castle without wading through thousands of doombots may be sealed. If it is, I have little doubt that the majority of you can play distraction while one or two find Grey undetected.
"But, in case Doom committed a critical oversight, your entry point is here." She paused to highlight an opening in the rear of the castle. "Dr. Strange has already noted that you will be using his teleportation device to travel directly into Latveria. From there, it's up to you to determine the best and safest means of entry. I should remind you that it's imperative that you get in and get out as quickly as possible. We currently are unaware of how many other supervillains are in Doom's employ, but err on the side of caution.
"One last thing. Professor Xavier suspects that Grey's powers were nullified with the stolen mutant power nullifier, so mutants should exercise caution in case he managed to replicate it on short notice. Questions?"
"Yeah," Bobby spoke up, "what's up with that? Does SHIELD really mistrust us that much?"
"Questions pertaining to the mission," Yelena responded flatly.
He rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
"Very well, then move—" She stopped when Clea abruptly walked inside. "Yes, Clea?"
When she answered, she spoke with urgency lacing her satiny voice. "I do not mean to intrude, but I fear that there is a matter that I must bring to your attention before you depart. Stephen and I both have just detected a sudden trace of dark magic that has suddenly permeated the air around us. We do not know what purpose it serves, but it lurks about like a creature in the night, waiting for the right moment to strike. I would suggest you depart immediately, so that you may not fall prey to its trap."
That was certainly disconcerting. Monica, Natasha, and Clint knew from their experiences with Amora the Enchantress that magic wasn't anything to take lightly. The fact that it was dark magic that Strange and Clea senses only made them more apprehensive. "Thank you, Clea," Scott said with a thankful nod. "We better leave now in that case. Is whatever this teleportation device Dr. Strange has ready?"
"It is. Right this way."
Castle Doom
"Baron Mordo," Doom called out. "Is your enchantment ready? Coulson's heroes will likely be here shortly and I would hate to be ill-prepared."
Baron Mordo, a former student of the Ancient One – the same being who training Dr. Strange in the ways of mystic arts, nodded affirmatively. "You have no need to worry, Doctor. The enchantment has been ready for twenty minutes, waiting to strike." The dark-skinned sorcerer was clad in green with black accents and green boots. His ornate, two-toned cape was black on the outside and black on the inside.
Loki scoffed and laughed haughtily. "An infant could have cast a better spell. The heroes have detected your magic and now know that something is amiss."
Mordo huffed indignantly. "Hmph! There is no way the heroes know the true purpose of the enchantment! I would stake my life on it."
"Be careful what you wager," he warned smoothly as he slithered around him like an emerald serpent. "We have enjoyed much fortune heretofore. It would be most unfortunate if our fortunes were to take an... ill-fated turn due to your misplaced confidence in your rudimentary sorcery."
"Loki, leave the good Baron alone," Amora purred as she wrapped her sinewy arms around the god of mischief. "What does it matter if the heroes suspect? They will still be ensnared by the trap. And once they have, the good doctor will proceed with the next phase of the plan. Is that not what we all want? Hm?"
Loki curled his lips into an annoyed moue. "Hmph. I suppose."
The team, led by an anxious Scott, gathered around Strange's orb of teleportation in preparation for their instant departure. The orb in question was the size of a basketball and a cloudy white in color. When it was activated, a bright purple light erupted from the center and enveloped the eight heroes.
It was then, at that exact moment, that Mordo's mysterious incantation sprung into action.
The purple light faded, revealing that only half of the team was gone. Bobby, Ororo, Logan, and Reed were still standing next to Strange. "What the hell?"
Stephen pounded his fist against the table the orb was resting on in frustration. "Mordo! I should have seen this coming."
"You could not have known, Stephen," Clea said in an attempt to calm him down.
"This is strange," Reed pondered, either not noticing the pun or not caring. "Stephen, could this be the result of the presence that you and Clea detected?"
"There is no doubt about it. Mordo must be working with Doctor Doom. If that is the case, that gives them three master sorcerers on their side." He sighed and moved away from the orb. "We must find where the others were sent. I have no doubt that wherever they are, it's less than pleasant." He walked away briskly to, they assumed, find the necessary tools to fix the orb.
"I'm don't profess to know anything about magic," Reed continued. "But, if this spell has been waiting at least this long, then the only logical conclusion is that Doom knew that we would figure out that he was keeping Jean in his castle; or at the very least suspect such. Whatever he's planning is of such a nature that he can't afford for us to divert his attention away from it for however long a confrontation between the two parties would last."
"Then, it's imperative that we find another way into Castle Doom," Coulson resolved. His voice was tight with restrained frustration. Everything seemed to be falling apart. Doom was two, three steps ahead of them and had been from the beginning. Whatever victory they secured was superficial at best. He thought back to something Fury told him years ago. "Doom's the most impressive son of a bitch I've ever met. The bastard can take over the world in a day and give it back the next because he got bored. He's the most dangerous kind of villain there is, because to him, world domination is just another day."
He was right, more than he could have possibly known. Or, maybe he did know. The well of knowledge Fury possessed was limitless, it seemed. Nothing academic; just very intuitive.
"Coulson," Daisy called out to him. "We can't get in touch with Summers or anyone on his team. Wherever they are, comms are dead."
"Of course they are. It just can't be easy for once."
"Nothing worthwhile ever is," May intoned.
"Spare me the philosophy, May. I have four heroes missing, sent to God knows where with God knows what waiting for them, and that metal asshole just fucked off with one of the most powerful people in the entire universe. This can't possibly get any worse, even if Doom tried his damnedest to make it so."
May gave him a placating look. "So much for looking on the bright side."
"I don't have time to look at bright sides. I need to look at results. Preferably ones that are in our favor."
"You're in luck," Daisy spoke from behind her laptop. "I think I just tracked where our wayward heroes are."
"Well?"
She sighed heavily. "You're not gonna like it, boss." When he raised his eyebrows expectantly, she sighed again. "Murderworld."
"Are you— are you joking? Of all places, why there?"
Steve, who was silently pondering over everything that had happened in the last few minutes, frowned confusedly. "Wait, what's Murderworld?"
"It is equal parts amusement park and death camp," Ororo answered. "It is run by a psychopath named Arcade, who takes great pleasure in watching people attempt to traverse his twisted carnival before eventually falling prey to one death trap or another. The X-Men have faced him many times before. Despite his... unassuming appearance, behind the faux innocence is the mind of a serial killer. If Scott and the others indeed trapped there, then there is a very strong possibility that they may not make it back."
"Storm, please don't say that," Sue pleaded in a hushed voice. "We'll get them back. Does anyone know where this Murderworld place is?"
"Antarctica," Daisy answered. "But, good luck getting inside. Unless Arcade "invites" you himself, it's nearly impossible to infiltrate. It has defense measure out the ass. It's practically more secure than Fort Knox."
Tony stood from the sofa he and Carol had been sitting on and walking to stand beside Steve. "I'm not just gonna leave Clint and Natasha in some death trap just because it's "too hard" to get into. I mean, have you met me? There's no way I can't find some way into this place."
"Far be it for me to try and stop you. If you think you can, go for it."
"Stark, take a team with you and head to Antarctica. Do whatever you have to to get in, even if you have to blow a hole in the damn thing." Coulson paused to think it over for a moment. "Matter of fact, just blow a hole in the damn thing. Save someone else in the future the grief."
Tony clapped his hands together. "Alright. Who wants to go on a field trip?"
Twenty Minutes Later
Clint and Natasha sprinted at full speed around a red and white striped tent, taking care not to get tripped up on the ropes that were nailed at each corner to keep it upright. As soon as they arrived in Murderworld, they were attacked by a group of seemingly innocuous clowns. They were about to ask for help when one of them threw a serrated buzzsaw at them. From that moment forward, every clown they came across immediately tried to disembowel them in one manner or another. Some threw more of the serrated buzzsaws, others fired balls of condensed poison at them. No matter the means of intended murder, their lives were in danger from the get-go.
At some point, they became separated. Clint and Natasha went one way, Scott another. Monica disappeared in a flash of light. This place was dangerous enough for the two spies; they couldn't imagine the hard time Scott was having by himself. As terrible as it was to consider, though, they couldn't worry too much about him. Any amount of attention diverted away from escaping the horde of killer Pennywise impersonators could have meant their deaths.
"Come 'ere, kids!" one of the clowns chasing them called out, followed by a silly, goofy laugh that was quickly going to become the new subject of their nightmares.
They slid to a stop when they came up to a row of claw games that served as a dead-end to assess the situation. There were four clown, around the same size, except for one who was about a foot taller than the rest. With practiced ease, Clint grabbed an incendiary arrow from his quad-quiver – a quiver that could hold four times as many arrows as a normal quiver – and fired it into the ground in the center of the group. They were engulfed in flames. Their terrified, pained screams died shortly before they did.
"I really, really hate clowns," Natasha growled.
Clint shrugged. "This isn't the first time a clown has tried to kill me, so at least I have experience."
"I'm just swimming in confidence all of a sudden," she replied dryly. "Look, we have to find Rambeau and Summers ASAP. I'm not too worried about Rambeau, but unless I missed something, Summers isn't much stronger than we are, and his optic blasts won't save him from whatever the fuck kind of death traps this shithole has."
Clint nodded and doubled back the way they came, Natasha hot on his heels. "The problem is we don't know where they could be. It's easy to get lost in a normal amusement park; add in killer clowns, flowers that spit out poison gas, exploding teddy bears, and whatever else, and forget about it."
Monica groaned and rubbed her forehead. "Ah, shit. Where am I?" She looked around and immediately noticed that nothing looked like it was supposed to. Everything – the sky, the ground, her herself – looked pixelated and like it belonged in one of those super old-fashioned video games from back in the day. "Hello?!"
A sinister laugh echoed through the landscape. "Well, hello there, Spectrum. How nice of you to finally wake up. Now the fun can really begin!"
It was a man, that much was obvious. He seemed to know her – or at least knew of her; she didn't recognize his voice, but something about it sent a chill up her spine. "Who are you? Where the hell am I?!"
He cackled again. "Name's Arcade. And as for where you are, well, you are inside my latest creation. Pitfall!"
Pitfall? She remembered playing that with her uncle on his Atari 2600 when she was a little girl. That was over twenty-five years ago. "Uh, hate to break it to ya, 'Arcade', but that game's been around since the 80s. Nice try, though."
He chuckled, as if amused by some nonsense saying of a child. "Oh, but of course. This version is never before seen. You see, you're actually in the game. As in, you are player one. Every pitfall you encounter can very much kill you. You'll keep dying until I get bored, and then you die for good. Sound fun?"
She scoffed, annoyed by this entire affair. "Whatever. This will be a breeze."
He laughed for a third time, this one just as spine-tingling as the first. "Whatever you say. Ready, Player One? Go!"
She smirked and shifted into her light form. Or, she tried to. Nothing happened. "Wait, what?"
"Oops. Did I forget to mention that your powers don't work in this world? No cheating, after all."
Okay. This was not going to be as much of a breeze as she thought. She grunted and started forward. Immediately, she noticed that she was running only at half the speed she was normally capable of. She supposed this Arcade guy didn't want to make it too easy.
She leaped over what looked like a campfire, remembering that anything in her way could and would kill her. Back then, that meant she had to start the stage over again. This time, it meant that she was going to die. Even if she respawned, she sure as shit didn't want to experience death over and over again.
She came up to a blue patch of pixels with three green logs between her and the other side. The green logs, after a few seconds, opened up, revealing pitch black maws that meant game over if she was caught. "If I remember this right, I need to time my jumps for when they just closed their mouths."
She timed it somewhat close to perfectly and made it across just before they opened their jaws again. Without wasting a second, she kept moving, eventually coming across a seemingly clear path. There was only a green rope hanging down from above.
She knew that when she got close enough, the ground was going to open up a bottomless pit. Even though she knew approximately where she needed to jump, seeing it from first person point-of-view – as opposed to third-person like most platform games she played back then – skewed and threw off her timing. She ended up taking one step too many and fell headfirst into the bottomless pit. "NOOOOOO!"
She kept falling until the yellow stage she had been running on was just a tiny dot.
"Aw, poor little Spectrum. Did you have a nasty fall? AHAHAHAHAH!"
Her body ignited with excruciating pain as it was broken apart into trillions of pixels. Her screams echoed into the endless void until all that was left was a thick cloud of multicolored pixels that spiraled upward, back up to the starting point of the game.
She coalesced, mouth still yawned open and belting out a soundless scream. Completely respawned, she fell to her hands and knees, chest heaving as she gulped in artificial air. "You... son of a bitch."
Arcade chuckled derisively. "Oh, that was delightful, Spectrum! I suppose I should have mentioned that the respawning process hurts like a bitch, but it's just so much fun watching someone scream in agony after the first time!"
The fact that he was enjoying this so much was no surprise. She had encountered her fair share of sadists in her years in the hero game. The fact that it was her pain that was getting him so excited terrified her. "I'm gonna get outta here," she snarled. "And when I do, my entire leg is going up your ass."
"Hoho, now that's the spirit."
Of all the places Scott thought he would have ended up when he got separated from the others, a grass maze was pretty low on the list. In hindsight, he should have seen something that this coming once they found out they were in the middle of an amusement park.
Danger lurked around every corner. Literally. There was some kind of death trap placed at every single corner he encountered. Whether it was a flower that spewed out some kind of poison gas, jack-in-the-boxes that sprang razor sharp buzzsaws, flame-throwers, some kind of giant rollers with giant spikes attached to them; the man that built this place – Arcade – was either really bored or had a sick sense of humor.
He also encountered small robots with buzzsaws for hands. They weren't a challenge one-on-one, but when they had him outnumbered, he realized that having his back sliced open was more painful than he remembered.
"Getting really tired of this."
"Hoohoohoo!" laughed someone on the other side of the maze wall to his left.
Great. More of those clowns. He had been ducking them ever since he ended up by himself.
He heard two people grunting, as well as the sound of hard punches landing. "Watch your back, Clint," Natasha intoned cautiously. "Aaugh!"
"Nat!"
"Hey, come 'ere, kid."
Clint grunted and must have dropped his bow. "Let go of me, assholes! Wait, don't!"
Scott broke into a furious sprint to make it into the next row before the clowns managed to do whatever it was they wanted to do with Clint. He rounded the corner in time to see them tossing Clint into the rolling grinders. If he fell in, there was no way he was going to come out as anything other than ground beef. Without a second to waste, Scott did the first thing that came to mind and fired a wide-angle optic blast to push Clint into the bushes behind him. He followed this up with five rapid fire blasts that rendered the five clowns unconscious.
He helped Natasha to her feet, then went to help Clint. "Have I mentioned how much I hate the circus?"
Clint accepted his hand and let him help him to his feet. "No, but I wish you would've mentioned how much those laser beams hurt."
He smiled. "It was either that or let you learn what a meat grinder feels like."
"Fair enough. And thanks."
"Any sign of Rambeau?" Natasha inquired after reloading her glocks. "And do you know where the hell we are?"
He shook his head when asked about Monica. "Murderworld. It's an giant death trap built by a deranged lunatic named Arcade. The X-Men have tangled with him a few times. ...We've lost a few members because of him." He sighed and continued through the maze, with them close behind. "If we're here, Doom must seriously want some of us dead. Arcade doesn't come cheap."
Neither Avenger had ever heard of Arcade, but from their expressions, they understood how much danger they were all in. "But why us?" Clint asked, clearly referring to himself and Natasha. "Why not Reed, since he's Doom's biggest rival?"
"I'm not sure. I'm sure he wanted Monica out of the way, first and foremost, given how powerful she is. I guess the rest of us were in the wrong place at the wrong time." Even if that was true – and it likely was in Monica's case – why not send all eight of them to Murderworld, instead of only four? And why would Doom leave out his biggest rival and the one most likely to foil his plan, Reed Richards?
They made it through the maze with very little trouble. The trouble they found was handled quickly and relatively effortlessly. When they stepped through the other side, they found themselves standing at the mouth of a massive red and white big top tent, like the ones they held circuses in. "Who else is hoping Arcade is in there?" Clint wondered.
Even if neither answered, they knew that it would never be that easy.
Inside the big top, they found not Arcade, but an arcade. One arcade game labeled Pitfall. "Holy shit. That's the last thing I expected to see." Clint approached the old-fashioned arcade game and looked at the screen. His skin turned ghostly pale and his eyes grew into saucers when he saw what was happening. "Guys," he called out, voice hauntingly serious. "Monica's in this game."
"What?" Natasha ran up beside him to see for herself. "How is this possible?" They watched her jump over a rattlesnake to move onto the next stage. "How do we get her out?"
"Wanna bet she has to beat the game?" He noticed her using a vine to swing over a lake, then leap over the exploding gold bricks. "Come on, Moni. You can do it!"
While Clint watched and cheered Monica on, Natasha and Scott explored the big top to find out where to head next. It was devoid of life, except for them and a single robot clown standing behind a ticket counter.
"Over here." Natasha looked up and noticed Scott standing in front of a path labeled Pinball. "The only other way is blocked, so I guess we need to head this way next."
"Knowing this place, we're probably going to be the pinballs," Natasha muttered. Suddenly, the Pitfall game started to shake a white light erupted from the screen. After the light faded away and everyone regained their composure, they found Monica on her knees, breathing raggedly. "You need a minute, Rambeau?"
A rhetorical question. Anyone with working eyes could see that she did.
They wanted to give her time to get her mind right, but time was not something that was on their side. While Coulson was down only four, he was down one of his most powerful heroes. Exactly what Doom wanted. It was easier to focus on Thor alone when he didn't have to worry about Spectrum turning up to even the odds.
Clint helped her to her feet. "Alright, let's get a move on. The sooner we find this Arcade fuck, the sooner we can get the hell out of here."
"Be careful what you wish for, Hawkeye. A meeting with me is just to die for!"
Arcade's words shouldn't have sent a chill up their spines, as generic as they were, but they did. Maybe it was the excited, gleeful tone with which he said them, but whatever it was had them dreading actually meeting him.
They stepped through the doorway and braced themselves for everything imaginable. With this place – and considering what Monica had just gone through – there was no telling how this so-called pinball area would be laid out.
It was a giant pinball machine, complete with electrified bumpers, paddles that sent anything – or anyone – they hit flying to the other side of the machine, and pinballs that exploded on contact. It also had two villains in Doom's employ, Shocker and Rhino. They were sent there just in case Arcade's death traps weren't enough to kill off the heroes.
"Go to the circus, Doom said. It'll be fun, they said," Shocker grumbled irately. They had been standing there waiting in the middle of a giant, empty pinball machine for over two hours. "I missed out on going to Asgard for this shit."
"Hey, we're getting paid," Rhino retorted as reasonably as was possible for someone like him.
Shocker and Rhino were two long-time members of Spider-Man's rogue gallery and were two founding members of the Sinister Six. Like Mysterio, they both made the best business decision they had available to them when they joined up with Doom. They, when they made that decision, thought that it was going to make them both extremely powerful; or at the very least, extremely rich. They, like many of the lesser members, thought that they were going to be as rich as kings. When Doom asked them – more like ordered them – to go to Murderworld to help Arcade kill a few of the heroes following Coulson, they thought that they were just backup, that Arcade could handle it himself.
After two hours of standing around waiting, it was obvious that they weren't returning to Castle Doom.
"What a load of shit. You don't get it. We aren't getting paid, you idiot. We're going back to prison." He rubbed his forehead in a futile attempt to stave of the migraine that was certain to only get worse when the heroes got here. "How much ya wanna bet that dumbass Mordo sent Cyclops of all people here?"
"Double or nothing," Rhino answered.
It took Shocker a few moments to realize that he was serious. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"
Rhino would have answered, but stopped short when they heard talking coming from the entrance. Since the only other sounds were them talking at the random sounds every pinball machine made, the voices carried. "A fucking pinball machine!"
"What did you expect, Clint? The door said 'pinball' on it."
"I just... let's just get through this. I bet the balls explode."
"Probably."
"Get behind me."
And there he was. Cyclops. The last person Shocker wanted to see. He would rather fight Spider-Man one-on-one than face the man who's wife they kidnapped hours earlier. He could already feel the optic blast threatening to cave his chest in and the fight hadn't even started yet. "Hopefully this stupid place ices him before he can get he—"
His plea was cut off by a horribly loud energy discharge. A massive red beam, as big and wide as a tractor trailer and hundreds of times more destructive, swept through the pinball machine. Everything it touched was destroyed, reduced to splinters, scrap metal, and pieces of plastic. The two villains had to hit the deck to avoid the same being done to them.
When it was over, there was nothing left. In fact, the beam had blasted straight through the wall separating the pinball area from Arcade's control room. He could even see the redheaded bastard huddling in the corner.
"Well, well, well," they heard Natasha uttered as four sets of footsteps became louder with each passing second. "I guess Doom needed to trim the fat on his little entourage."
Rhino climbed to his feet and belted out a mighty roar. "Let's go, punks!" he snarled, sliding his foot back as if about to charge horn first. "When I'm done with you, there won't be enough of you to fill a—" With frightening speed, Scott slid in and used an optic blast to pop Rhino into the air. A second, much more powerful blast carried him through the ceiling, and didn't stop until he was clear out of the facility.
Shocker could only shake his head. He jumped to his feet and swung a haymaker at Scott. It was caught and his arm was broken at the elbow with a simple upward palm strike. "AAAGH!"
He was whipped to the ground, face first, with a knee planted into his spine to keep him in place. "Where is my wife?" Scott growled. A weak, but continuous beam shot out of his visor and struck the back of Shocker's head. "I won't ask again."
"I don't know!" The beam increased substantially in power. Any more and Shocker's skull would have caved in. "Alright! ALRIGHT! Doom took her to one of the Asgard realms. He said he wanted to offer her to whatever demon was in charge of the place in exchange for his sword."
Scott stopped the beam, but didn't ease off his back
"What demon?" Natasha inquired. "Did he offer a name for it or the realm?"
"Not the demon, but the realm place ended with -heim. He wanted the sword for when they went to Asgard. It sounded like he wanted to take the place over. That's all I know, I swear! I swear!"
"So, that's his play, to take over Asgard?" Natasha fired a widow's bite tazer at Shocker, immediately rendering him unconscious. "Whatever that sword Doom wants better be powerful if he plans on fighting Odin."
"Doom doesn't stand a chance, magic sword or not," Clint responded. "You know how powerful Thor is. He's only in second place on Asgard."
"We need to find Arcade and get out of here," Scott stated simply. He rose to his feet. "We didn't get to ask Shocker where Arcade was."
"That isn't an issue," Natasha uttered. She fell silent, letting the distant but very distinct sound of fists striking flesh with bone-crushing power reach them. Monica was gone, having snuck off while they were interrogating Shocker to confront Arcade face to face.
The confrontation didn't last long. Arcade tried to run, but was tripped and forced to endure nearly a full minute of Monica's fury. When she was done, Arcade's face was a bloody, lumpy mess. His pristine white suit was stained with his own blood. She rose from his waist, having been straddling him while beating him mercilessly, breathing raggedly and wiped her face with her sleeve. Crimson blood stained the white fabric.
Clint stepped inside and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Feel better?"
She frowned, but didn't answer for a long moment. In the meantime, her eyes remained glued on Arcade's unmoving form. "No," she eventually answered. "But I feel a hell of a lot better than he does."
He smirked and let his hand drop. "Let's get out of here. We still have a long way to go."
"How are we supposed to get out of here?" she wondered.
Just then, a tremendous explosion ripped through the roof, showering them in dust and debris. Tony and Ororo quickly descended into the control room. "I hope you kids enjoyed your day in the park. Your mother and I had to scrimp and save for months to afford this trip."
Clint grinned. After an hour of nothing but killer clowns and death traps, seeing Tony and Ororo was a sight for sore eyes. "Thanks, dad. Can we go home now?"
