The Day of Destiny, Part I
Berlin, Germany
Steve's shield sliced through the air, only prevented from striking Zemo in the face by a hastily performed parry with his vibranium sword. The shield reflected off it and reached Steve's hand in time for him to block a bullet fired from Zemo's gun. The vibranium blade glided forward, scratching across the surface of the shield, kicking up sparks that splashed against Steve's face. He ignored it and swept the Baron's feet from under him.
"You haven't changed a bit, have you, Rogers?" Zemo sounded confident and amused. Steve soon found out why when he received a sharp kick to the shin that brought him to a knee. "Still prone to making mistakes." Zemo kipped up to his feet and connected with a right hook that nearly knocked Steve to the ground. "I have been waiting for this moment for over sixty years, Rogers. As soon as I'm done with you, rest assured that I'll will make Barnes pay for killing my father." He ducked under a shield swing and landed a hard punch to his kidney's.
Steve grunted, but ignored the pain. "So, this is just a revenge plot." He parried a sword swing and retaliated with a swift boot to the midsection. "We should have killed you, too. I should have known what the son of a Nazi would grow up to be."
If Zemo hadn't been keeled over in pain, he would have laughed. "How... pragmatic of you. I didn't think you had it in you. However, you didn't, and now the world will pay for your weakness. Unlike you, I have the inner strength needed to do what must be done to ensure this world survives. If that means killing even children, so be it."
"You're a madman." Steve wasn't surprised in the least that Zemo believed what he said and had every intention of carrying out his beliefs. He nimbly parried a sword lunge and caught Zemo on the side of the head. The man stumbled and was then spear-tackled into a parked car, throwing them both for a loop.
"No, Rogers, you're the madman, for refusing to realize that your morals are outdated," Zemo countered while climbing to his feet. "Back in our day, you could leave your door wide open without worry. Now, that's just an invitation for anyone to wonder in and relieve you of your possessions and leave your family in a pool of their own blood. The days of personal responsibility are over. The world needs men of action, not men of ideals."
They traded blows, both rocking each other with devastating punches and kicks. Zemo matched Steve's flashy acrobatics with his own, leading to a frenzied whirlwind of flying limbs and twirling bodies.
"What this world needs is freedom from men like you, who hold those under you back just to hold on to the false illusion of power."
Zemo spun around and knocked his feet from under him. "Lesser men feel the same, yet do nothing to make that dream a reality. Not I. I have transcended such futile pondering. I and I alone possess the vision to lead this civilization to the future it deserves, and the will to make it a reality."
"You possess nothing but delusions of grandeur." He whipped his hand out to grab Zemo's boot as he was aiming his gun at him and pulled him to the ground. They both whipped to their feet. Zemo used his momentum to launch a sword slash, but it was blocked by Steve, who had the same idea. "Only a narcissist would try to do a job reserved for God."
They struggled against each other, neither gaining any ground on the other. "Only a fool thinks God still cares for mankind. After all we have done, it is up to us to lead ourselves into the promised land. No one else. And I will be at the fore of that movement." He grunted and exerted his super-soldier strength to the full. He caught Steve off-guard and managed to start pushing him back.
"You'll be at the fore of a movement, alright," he replied coolly before falling back. Zemo's momentum carried him forward and off-balance, directly on top of Steve. The soldier used his powerful legs to propel him into a nearby car.
Jessica and Viper had to dive out of the way to avoid the flying Zemo before he smashed into a parked BMW. Viper was first to her feet and landed a kick to her abdomen. "I hope this isn't the extent of your SHIELD training, édes kis pók."
Just hearing her speak was enough to send sharp chills up her spine. And that name. 'Sweet little spider'; she hated it with every fiber of her being. It was a motherly pet name that clashed violently with every vile, putrid thing that Hydra did to her under Viper's watch. The conditioning, the harsh training, making her kill innocent people as a young girl to numb her to death. She remembered it all, and after each day, she still had the nerve to use that damned pet name. As if that would make up for all the shit she had been put through the entire day. "Not even close," she snarled while climbing to her feet. Without wasting a single second, she landed a hard punch to the side of her jaw. "The best thing you've ever done for me was abandoning me the moment I was captured!"
"The best? How dare you?" She caught her next punch and drove her knee into her midsection. "I gave you everything. Without me, you'd be nothing. You hear me? Nothing!" She smashed her elbow into the back of Jessica's head, driving her to her knees. "You always took me for granted. Whining and moaning about how you wanted to go home. I took you in like a lost lamb and you repay me with backtalk and constantly trying to escape."
"You tortured me!" A roundhouse was ducked under, but succeeded in putting a little distance between the two. "I was just a child and you made me go through all that horrendous training. For what? To make me into your little protege?"
"Foolish child."
Those words took Jessica back to when she was living in a cell at the Hydra outpost. Every night after hours upon hours of intense training, more intense than what any little girl should have been put through, Viper would slip inside to watch her conditioning. She always cried that she wanted to go home, only to receive a sharp slap across the face, followed by, "Foolish child. You are home."
Like clockwork, the sharp backhand snapped crisply across her cheek. Suddenly, she was a six year old girl again, trapped in that frozen prison of an outpost. She touched her cheek and felt a soft whimper escape passed her lips.
"I love you, Jessica." Her fist sunk into Jessica's midsection, folding the woman over like a cheap tent. "And you return that unconditional love with betrayal and unfounded hatred. So ungrateful." She mounted her prone body and elbowed her in the face repeatedly until her cheekbone cracked and blood poured from the wounds like leaking faucets. "I provided you with the best life possible. I took you from nothing and made you into something special. I treated you like a daughter." Each calmly, coldly spoken declaration was punctuated by a savage strike to her face, either a punch or an elbow.
Each blow drove Jessica further and further back into the old days, when she was a little girl and Viper was her surrogate mother. Behind her torn mask, her eyes turned red and threatened to tear up. "Why?" she uttered softly.
Viper held back from punching her again and considered her for a moment. "Because good mothers discipline their children." With that, she went to punch her again, only for it to be parried and countered with a headbutt. She recoiled, allowing Jessica to shift her legs under her and kick her off.
Jessica flew at speed toward the stumbling Viper and slammed into her. "YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER!" she roared while blasting her in the face. "I am not afraid of you! I don't need you! I never did and I never will!"
Something in Jessica snapped. Gone was the cowering, quivering, fearful woman who shivered with terror just from looking at Viper. All the anger and hatred that she had bottled up since she was a child came gushing out like a geyser. Her eyes were wide with rage as her fist slammed into Viper's face, drawing blood and fracturing bones with each devastating strike. All her "mother" could do was hold her hands to her face and hope the damage wasn't too extensive.
Suddenly, Viper bent her tongue back and squirted several drops of venom into Jessica's exposed eyes. She was immune, but it still stung.
"Agh!" She jumped back to rub her eyes, giving Viper the chance to toss her away and grab her whip.
"I will show you what happens," she snarled while flicking the whip around her neck, "to those who disobey their mother." With all her super-soldier strength, she grunted and flung her by the neck into a nearby parked car, then again into another car on the opposite side. She did this twice more to each vehicle before slamming her into the pavement.
Jessica coughed raggedly and tried to unwrap the whip. "Hmph. There is no getting out of this discipline, girl." A set of small adamantium claws popped out of the fingers of her gloves. "I will make you pay for leaving me." She ran the claws down her back, drawing blood and coaxing a pained scream. She drew the whip taut, forcing her to her knees, then raised her hand to strike her in the face. A pair of gunshots ripped through the whip, sending her stumbling back. "Who would dare?!"
"Me," Natasha answered.
"Well, well. If it isn't Fury's golden girl. Where's your pet? Nearby, I assume."
Natasha didn't answer, nor did she take her eyes off the Hydra leader.
"Stoic, as always, Romanova."
The use of her real last name didn't conjure much of a reaction outside of a sharp inhale. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Clint preparing a shot from several dozen yards away. This show was to keep Viper busy until Clint loosed his killshot.
He did so seconds later. The arrow sliced through the air, with its target seemingly unaware of its approach.
Seemingly. Viper's hand lashed upward at the last possible second and caught the arrow a few centimeters past its head. "Hm. How quaint. That would have worked with a lesser woman. Which is why you're foolish to waste time with me and not Belova."
As if on cue, Belova appeared out of nowhere and wrapped a garrote around Natasha's throat from behind.
She couldn't believe she fell for that. Then again, she had been off for the last several days. Ever since she came perilously close to killing Drew, she had been questioning everything about herself. It was why she kept herself holed up in her room. She didn't want anyone to see her so unsure, so scared of what she would find out about herself in the midst of her introspection. For two days, she remained in her room, thinking deeply and frankly about who she was as a person. She reflected on her upbringing in the Red Room, her training at the hands of the Winter Soldier, the instincts that had been ingrained in her for decades – to use those close to her, then drop them at the earliest convenience, and to consider everyone either a pawn or a mark.
Such served her well for countless years. It wasn't until she joined the Avengers that those instincts began to clash with her desire to finally have a real family. She swung between being cold and pragmatic one second, then warm and open the next. She wasn't sure if she wanted to trust and care about the other Avengers or keep them at arm's length and only use them as she saw fit. At some point, she chose the former.
Clint's arrow cut through the metal string that had been slicing into Natasha's neck, freeing her and making Yelena stumble back. Natasha coughed raggedly and rubbed her throat. "Thanks," she said roughly. When he didn't answer, she turned to find where his shot came from. She found him standing in the doorway of a building several yards away. She nodded her thanks.
He gave her a two-finger salute and disappeared inside the building. She turned her attention to Belova in time to watch her reset and refocus.
The two Black Widows regarded each other passively. Neither gave away even a hint of what they were thinking inwardly. There were no cues, no tells, and no slips that allowed the other to discern what action was about to be taken next.
"It's time for me to take your spot, Romanova," the young blonde stated.
"You're not good enough, kid," she fired back. She blocked a punch and whipped Belova to the ground smoothly. "You don't have what it takes. Never have, never will."
"Shut up," she growled. She batted Natasha away with a well-placed kick to the face and flipped to her feet. "You're well past your expiration date, Romanova. You've let America taint you. You're unworthy to carry the mantle of Black Widow." A pair of roundhouses parried the jabs Natasha threw. "You call yourself 'Natasha', forsaking your country and your heritage. You're a disgrace."
"What does that make you, then?" She twirled around her and swept her feet out from under her. Jumping over an attempted kick to the knee, she drove her own knee into Belova's chest. "You've tried and failed again and again to kill me for five years, and now you need help to fail again. The only disgrace around here is you, kiddo." She smirked when the other Widow growled and lunged for her. She fell back and used her momentum to propel her away.
Belova rolled with the fall and slid to a stop. "All that just means you've been lucky." Natasha snapped a kick toward her head, but she ducked and swept her plant leg from under her. Natasha fell and slammed her head directly into Belova's knee. "Hmph. Pathetic."
She was bleeding from her forehead. Judging by how much was dripping onto her uniform, it was bad; but she had had worse. In one quick motion, her gun was drawn and fired. It barely missed Belova's head. "Warning shot."
"You should have killed me." A zip-line shot out of her Widow's Bite bracelet and wrapped around Natasha's leg. Thinking quickly, Natasha did the same to her before they both jerked their arms back to trip the other. Belova cut herself free and dashed toward her.
Natasha hastily did the same and ran to meet her.
They met and engaged in a flurry of agile and precise kicks and punches that never actually landed because one always managed to parry or dodge.
Natasha remembered hearing stories on the grape vine about an up-and-coming student of the Red Room, one that either matched or surpassed every single one of her marks. She knew early on that Yelena Belova had all the makings of a great spy. And she was. There was no doubt in her mind that once she was done carrying the sordid legacy of the Black Widow, Belova was more than a worthy successor.
It would never happen. With Natasha gone – be it through retirement or death by her hand – Belova was going to drift listlessly through life until she met her own death. She already knew what the Red Room did to her, how they tampered with her mind more than any of the other Black Widows. It was little wonder with that in mind why she sought to kill her so vehemently.
Belova was only 22 years old, and had been chasing Natasha since she was 17. It was her one and only life's mission. Once it was over, she would have nothing. In more than one way, she felt sorry for her. In another world, perhaps they worked side-by-side together in SHIELD. Perhaps Natasha even took her under her wing.
She quickly realized as she dodged yet another punch that that wasn't going to happen. She booted her away to give herself some space. A second later, she dashed toward her and flipped behind her to put her in a sleeper hold. Belova blocked by raising her shoulders and bearing down on her chin to alleviate some of the choking pressure. She was still trapped, which was what Natasha really wanted. "Clint!"
A single shining gleam in the otherwise dark fifth story window was the only evidence that he was there. Without a single wasted second, an arrow sliced through the air, a killshot aimed for Belova's eye.
It was a shame to end such a promising life, but it was what Natasha needed to do.
The arrow never reached its intended target, instead becoming trapped between the forefinger and middle finger of the mysterious woman in silver and gold. "No bullseye for you, Clint," she said mockingly. She flicked the carbon steel shaft with her thumb and snapped it like a twig. "Really, now, you need someone else to finish what you started?" she pondered to Natasha. She flicked the arrowhead at her and caught her in the forearm. It went straight through and became lodged in her bicep. "You're welcome, kid."
Natasha screamed and stumbled back, clutching her doubly injured arm.
"NATASHA!" Clint roared from his perch.
A hail of explosive arrows rained down on the woman, detonating on impact. After a dozen, the air was filled with incendiary smoke. The two Russian spies hacked and coughed, choked from all the pitch black smoke.
"Ooh," came an annoyed sigh from within the smoke. "Is that really the best you can do, Clint?" The woman stepped out into the open, showing everyone that she was completely unharmed.
His keen, nigh supernatural eyesight picked up on facial features that weren't covered by her mask, allowing him to narrow down her identity. Her voice, however, and the haughty manner of speaking she spoke with, made it undeniable. "Karla? You're a superhuman?"
"Sure am. Why don't you come out here so we can chat?"
Clint knew that was well out of his wheelhouse. He stood no chance in hell against someone who could take a dozen exploding arrows unharmed.
"Clint? I know you hear me. If you don't come out here, I'll just have to come in there." After several moments without a response, she sighed and started to walk deliberately toward the building he was in.
Shit!
Suddenly, before she could cross the halfway mark, Abomination's badly burned and injured body slammed into the ground, creating a tremendous quaking effect that shook buildings violently and knocked everyone present to the ground.
Before anyone could question what was happening, a massive lightning bolt streaked down from the sky and struck Abomination the chest. The flash of light was blinding, the thunder clap that roared above as a result was deafening, but it was the power behind the lightning that carried the biggest effect. The pavement caved downward like a sinkhole had suddenly opened up. Buildings, including the one Clint was in, were swallowed up. Those that weren't blown away by the force fell into the crater created. It spread rapidly, eventually nearly a quarter of a mile.
In the center of the crater were the charred skeletal remains of the Emil Blonsky.
"CLINT!" Jessica shouted over the crackling static electricity that remained over from Thor's attack.
The silence was deafening. The anxiety was worse. Finally, after a full minute, =I...I'm fine. I managed to hide out in a cabinet. My leg's busted up and I think my arm is, too.=
"I...I am sorry," Thor spoke, completely overwhelmed with guilt. "I allowed the heat of battle to overtake my senses."
=Don't sweat it, big guy. Just send someone to dig me out and we're good.=
"Aye, I shall—" He was suddenly blasted from behind by a blue beam from above.
Karla hovered over him, hands on her hips and a curious smirk on her face. "So, that's the power of a god. Not bad. Not bad at all. Pretty sure you killed all my teammates, so congrats, I guess."
Thor rose to his feet, completely unharmed from the sudden attack. "You would dare strike the son of Odin from behind, coward?!"
"...yes."
Thor exploded from the crater and struck Karla in the chest. Or, he tried to. At the last moment, she turned intangible, causing him to go straight through her. "An illusion!"
"Nope. Science. By shifting my molecules slightly, I can turn myself intangible. You can't hit me." She flew through him, causing him to roar as a wave of immense pain washed through him. "And yet, like this, I can still hurt you." A volley of blasts erupted from her hands, peppering his vulnerable spots while he was still affected by her passing through him. "Is this what the 'mighty' Thor is capable of? Ha!"
"Hehe." Thor swung his enchanted hammer at her. It passed through her, just like his fist did, but in doing so, transferred a charge of white energy inside her that quickly spread through her entire body. She screamed out and fell limply to the ground. "Never underestimate the god of thunder, villain." He didn't waste any time and immediately descended to re-engage her. Upon landing, he booted her in the midsection, then delivered another stiff boot that sent her flying through several buildings.
He quickly followed her, and found her digging herself out of a deep trench. "Stand and fight, mistress of evil!"
She growled and exploded into the air. Her fist blurred forward and connected with his jaw, knocking him back a ways. She followed this up with several more punches, each one flying at him at speeds nearly exceeding his own.
Thor could only assume that this was the Dr. Karla Sofen Clint spoke of days ago during his investigation of the evil Black Widow. He spoke of her sadism in regards to those she considered patients in her psychiatric practice, but not once did he mention her having vast superpowers. That, Thor felt, was a thing that should have been brought to light if the archer was aware of it.
All Thor could do was hold his arms in front of him to the block the punches coming his way, dozens by the second. They caused him no harm alone, but he did feel them. Combined, they were starting to take their toll. Still, he used that time to get a measure of Karla's speed. Once he felt he had it, he swung his fist to meet hers. The collision created a shockwave that sent the two combatants careening in opposite directions.
Thor recovered first and tracked Karla down through all the resumed chaos swirling around him. He found her, or rather found the energy blast she fired to keep him off her back while she recovered. He swatted it back at her with his hammer, then tossed his hammer behind it. She dodged the blast, but couldn't avoid the hammer and recoiled when it struck her flush in the face. He quickly followed this up with a devastating three hit combination that propelled her high into the sky.
A bolt of lightning streaked downward and met her ascending form. The bolt carried her to the ground and left her in a deep crater. Upon inspection, Thor found that she wasn't moving.
That was two Masters of Evil felled by his hand. The odds were just about even, but there was still much work to be done. His next target had to be Quicksilver. With his vast speed, he could easily defeat the others at once without them even knowing he was there. It was imperative that he deal with Pietro as quickly and swiftly as he could.
"Ahem."
The feminine voice behind him elicited a growl of anger from the thunderer. "You."
Amora the Enchantress floated near Thor, hands crackling with magical energy. "Is that what I have been reduced to in your eyes, my love? Simply 'You'?"
"You are no longer the woman I considered a friend not even a few weeks ago, Amora," he replied sharply. "You are just another enemy. Therefore, I will treat you as I did your previous two allies, without mercy." Lightning cracked menacingly in the distance as a stiff wind blew through the city. "You have caused enough trouble. After I have defeated you, I will take you back to Asgard and demand Father give you the stiffest punishment he can concoct."
If he was expecting Amora to be fearful or even nervous, he was disappointed when she simply laughed. "Oh, will I not receive the infinitesimal number of second chances your conniving brother has been gifted with? Will you verily have me executed after this one misstep?"
"Misstep?" Thor's free hand balled into a fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "You call ensnaring the mind of an innocent man a misstep? You call turning that man against the only flesh he has 'pon this world, to the point that he nearly killed her, a misstep? You call ridding another innocent man of his freedom by trapping him in his own monstrous body a misstep? Nay I say to you, witch, these actions can and will be considered acts of war against Midgard, a crime Father punishes with the utmost severity. If you assume you will receive the same leniency as his own son, you are due for a hopelessly mistaken."
Amora didn't reply. Instead, she muttered an ancient incantation, "Estivas vinaquirem vi jistrah," and pointed a finger at Thor.
He was on guard immediately. He knew well how powerful Amora's magics were – she was easily the third most potent sorceress on Asgard, only behind his mother and brother. The spell's effect was not made manifest right away, which lulled Thor into a temporary moment of false security. He lunged forward, only to be suddenly ensnared by an invisible barrier that froze time itself. He was trapped, unable to move or even think at his normal speeds.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. And here I was hoping to see you back up your words with action. And yet, you still fall to even the simplest of spells. A shame."
The spell required Amora concentrate to keep it active, as powerful as it was. Since she needed to focus completely on that, she missed the sudden hail of .50 caliber bullets raining down from above until they peppered her flank. "Aaugh!" Her focus snapped, releasing the spell and thus Thor, as well. "No!"
A lightning bolt crashed into her from above, sending her flailing into the ground above.
Thor took a brief moment to appraise the jet that gave him very timely aid. It didn't appear to be one of SHIELD's, as it was slightly larger and of a different make. He quickly concluded that it was the Avengers'. Which should have been impossible, as theirs had been destroyed nearly as soon as they arrived. Unless... "No, it cannot be." He knew for a certainty that Steve told Carol to remain in Stark Tower.
He had no time to figure it out. Amora exploded into the air, magical energies warping the very air around her. "Nal a kair!" A wide stream of red fire burst from her fingertips, heading straight for the thunderer.
He moved to dodge, then grunted when the stream curled and followed after him. It appears to be tracking me. Hm. He knew he could use this to his advantage. He flew quickly downward toward where most of the others were fighting. With his godly speed, he knew that he was second only to Quicksilver, so none of the mortal Masters of Evil should have been able to dodge out of the way in time if suddenly caught in the flame's path.
With this in mind, he headed directly for where Natasha was on her last legs against her counterpart.
"I think not!" Amora yelled from behind him.
Curses! Was I that obvious? Nay, I can still salvage this scheme. He stopped suddenly and spun his hammer. The enchanted mallet was struck by the red flame and proceeded to absorb it into itself.
"Curse you!"
"Take this!" he yelled, aiming and then firing the red flame at Yelena. She managed to dive out of the way in time, but the resulting explosion – manipulated by Thor to splash in Yelena's direction and avoid Natasha – flung her through the empty space where a window once stood and into a dilapidated building.
The quinjet did another sweep of the area, spraying its ammunition across the enemy combatants. As it passed by, Thor spied Carol in the pilot's seat. He sighed and flew upward to avoid Amora. "Beware, Captain. Lady Danvers is inside that quinjet."
=Damn it!= Steve sounded beyond frustrated.
Thor shared his frustration. The very last thing they needed at the moment was a civilian willingly and knowingly throwing herself into the midst of the battle because of an ill-suited need to prove herself their equal. It was only going to get her – at the very least – killed.
However and unfortunately, he couldn't worry about her well-being when his own was in danger. Amora was an opponent who required his full attention. Someone else would have to see to Carol.
Dozens of emerald blades appeared out of midair around Amora. Each one looked like they could cut him to ribbons it they made contact. "Die!" She thrust her hands forward, sending the blades hurtling toward him at speeds nearly exceeding what he was capable of reacting to.
He was right; they could cut into him. His armor served as little more than a thin barrier, easily penetrated as the blades sliced into his flesh. Warm crimson blood poured out of the wounds. He grunted through gritted teeth and swatted a field of swords away with his hammer. They dissipated into a haze of green shards that faded away into the air like the morning dew.
"You will not escape me!" Amora shouted as she gave chase once Thor attempted to find better ground. "What is this? The mighty Thor actually fleeing from an enemy? I never thought I would live long enough to witness such a rarity. Ha!"
Her mockery stung more deeply than he cared to admit. Thor was one to never flee from battle; he always met any opponent head on. However, in his time on Earth with the Avengers, he learned – or rather, accepted – the strategic advantages of retreat. When one method wasn't work and would likely end with him dead, it was sound logic to flee with his life and try again later. There was no shame, especially when victory was captured at a later date.
A later date wasn't possible this time, but a moment to breathe would give him a chance to think of a strategy with which to counter her magic more effectively. He didn't want a repeat of the first spell, which would have spelled his doom if not for Carol's unfortunate but timely arrival.
"Come, my love. Let us continue our little game." The green energies around Amora's hand shifted to a violet color as she conjured another spell. "Ithikitalkus boli vimi hakon gadurm!" Suddenly, the sky turned white with red and green energy swirling around. The others had vanished; it was only Thor and Amora inside this maddening new realm.
"What manner of sorcery is this, Amora?!"
"Heh. If you only knew, Thor. However, I will tell you this much. You will no longer be a threat to I or the Masters of Evil."
Her cryptic words left him with a cold feeling of dread inside. He didn't know what kind of spell this was, but he was Thor, son of Odin, the second most powerful Asgardian alive! There was no spell that could overwhelm him, no sorcerer who could best him. Amora would feel his wrath. He roared and lunged at her, raising his hammer high above his head, then bringing it to bear in front of him. A pure white beam erupted from the hammer's head and hurtled toward Amora.
She made no effort to dodge and was struck square in the chest. However, the beam went straight through her. "Another illusion!"
"How right you are." Just then, there were dozens, hundreds of Amoras surrounding him. "'Tis not a subtle as Loki's, but it serves my purposes quite well. Unfortunately for you," five Amoras fired pitch black beams at him. They all struck true, causing him immense pain. "I can hurt you, and you cannot hurt me. Even if you found the real me, I control the battle now. You are at my mercy, a puppet of my whims. Is it not lovely?"
"..." He was trapped inside a deadly illusion. Even though he was sure the Amoras around him weren't real, the pain they could inflict on him definitely was. It was as one-sided a battle as he had ever been in, with no hope of turning the tides in his favor.