Chapter 39: All Hands on Deck! - Part Three
In the silence that followed my possibly slightly overconfident statement, Clint and Thera exchanged a horrified look.
"Well, that's torn it," Thera grimaced. "We're done for."
Clint grinned wryly, "C'mon, hon. That's something you just don't say, like 'good luck' on opening night. It's askin' for trouble!"
"That's superstitious nonsense!" I scoffed.
"Of course it is, but that doesn't mean it's not true," Thera said. "Vi knew a guy who said exactly the same thing. Two seconds later, a sniper blew his head off."
"I knew a guy too," said Clint. "'Cept instead of a sniper it was an unstable, forty-year-old anti-tank landmine. We only found his left foot. In a tree."
"Crikey," Thera appeared to consider this. "What shoe size was he?"
"I don't remember! What kind of question is that?"
"The only one that's still relevant, I'd say."
Clint gave Thera a long, hard look, and said, "Anyway, the point is that we've been way luckier than we deserve. Let's not get blasé now."
"I'm not trying to be blasé!" I protested. "I'm trying to be reassuring!"
"Honestly, hon, I'd be more reassured if you weren't trying to reassure me. Inky's sending you right into the lion's den; who knows how many mercs're lying in wait?"
"Mmm. Point," Thera looked at me, his expression calculating. "Considering that Pexley and his lads seem to have declared you Public Enemy Number One, I'd say it wouldn't hurt to give you some extra firepower. Inky?"
"Present."
"Escalate engagement level. If Blacknest decides to come for Laura, I want them to regret it."
"Confirmed."
"Are you serious?" I said eagerly. "You mean…actual magic?"
"I figure if you're willing to throw yourself in front of that Arachnid, you can probably be trusted with something a bit spicier," Thera said. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's some…limitations, but—"
"All operatives be aware, there are now only fifteen minutes remaining until the Arachnid goes critical."
"—Inky can fill you in on those. You need to get going," Thera said. "Is your leg okay?"
"My leg's—" I stopped, and with some surprise I realised my leg really was okay. There was still a slight ache, deep in my calf, but it was nothing compared to the white-hot agony of just a few minutes ago. "—fine, actually. It's gonna stay that way, right?"
"I'll make sure of it," Thera promised. "But…listen. I'll be keeping an eye on Inky - but you'll be out of range of direct contact. If you find yourself in trouble—"
"Call me," Clint cut in. His expression was carefully bland, but he spoke in low, fearful tones. "And call me the instant you've got that gun. That Arachnid's not gonna wait, and neither're Blacknest."
"I'll be careful," I promised. "And I'll be as quick as I can."
"Be quicker than that — but be safe. I love you."
"I love you too."
I gave my husband a brief hug and a kiss, and he and Thera turned away to head for the foyer. As always, Clint moved swiftly and smoothly, checking the corners and watching the shadows with the air of a seasoned professional. Thera followed on behind, moving at a pace that was somewhere between a stagger and a limp. I watched them for just a moment more, and with a wistful sigh turned away and pulled out my phone.
"Okay, Inky," I said. "What's next? Where're we going?"
"The armoury. It is located in what appears to be a disused section of the refinery. It is not far," Inky said. "I have determined the optimum route and transferred it to your overlay."
"My what—" My voice died on my lips as a glowing blue circle faded into existence beneath my feet. A line emerged, and traced a path across the grass and gravel towards a large, hulking building. While it was further away than I strictly would've liked, it was still reachable at a run. "Oh. That's quite cool."
"Please proceed. ETA, two minutes."
I set off cautiously, still mindful of my calf, but after a few trial steps it was clear that Thera really had brought the pain back under control. With a grim smile, I broke into a run and before long I was flying across the darkened fields, stones and dirt crunching under my boots. As I ran, Inky's voice crackled from my phone.
"Escalation complete. I must remind you that the purpose of expanding my remit is to provide you with a measure of self-defence, not expand your offensive capabilities. Accordingly, there are limits."
"I know!" I sucked down another lungful of air. "So what are they?"
"You may not kill anyone, either directly or indirectly. You may not generate hyperbaric pressures sufficient to puncture the skin or induce an embolism. You may not generate electrical currents in excess of…"
Inky's voice faded into the background as I ran, becoming an indistinct, droning litany of forbidden magics. This was ridiculous; we had fifteen minutes! Fifteen! Thirteen, actually, assuming I reached the armoury when Inky thought I would. Just thirteen minutes, in which I had to get into the armoury, locate the rifle and its ammunition, and then hightail it back to the boardroom in time for Clint to take the shot. The return journey would be another two minutes at least, so best to make that eleven…
"...no dust devils, fire devils, tornadoes, hurricanes, or hypercanes…"
…all while dodging the Arachnid, Blacknest, and that psychopath Pexley. Clint wasn't kidding when he'd said the Blacknest commander had it out for me. It wasn't just rage driving that man; it was obsession, and I was sure that he'd gleefully let the Arachnid explode if he knew that I'd be taken down in the blast. What was I meant to do in the face of madness like that?
"...no manipulation of carnival games, no weaponising livestock…"
That one got my attention, "I'm sorry, but…what?"
"There was an incident three years ago," Inky said. "While providing support in a remote region, Thera and Viola were repeatedly harassed by an anti-Empowered protester. After three days of verbal abuse, Operative Doe quietly expressed a desire for someone to 'cow the bastard'. At the time, I was unaware that she was speaking figuratively."
"So…wait," I glanced down at my phone. "Are you saying that—"
"I fulfilled her request through the most expedient route available."
I thought about that for a moment, and then said, "Oh. Poor cow."
"The cow escaped unharmed."
"And the protestor?"
"Minor injuries. The attempt was successful, as he ceased his protest shortly thereafter."
"I think most people would," I observed. "So tell me, Inky. What other fun things can't I do?"
"You may not imitate a poltergeist to influence the housing market. You may not…"
I ran on while Inky rattled through the rest of her impressively long list. Before long, I'd left the windswept fields behind and found myself in a part of the refinery that had clearly been abandoned long ago. Mouldering, red-brick buildings stood in long, silent rows, staring down at me through shattered windows with chipped, peeling woodwork. The brickwork was covered with a dizzyingly complex lattice of steel pipes, discoloured with rust and peppered with holes, which joined together into thick, water-stained conduits that crossed overhead to connect to an array of shattered, broken husks. All around me a sense of decay and desolation filled the air, and I shuddered. Was this really where Keame had sequestered Blacknest? No wonder they were so happy to turn on him.
"Please proceed with caution," said Inky, as I followed the glowing blue line to a large wooden side door. "There is a high likelihood of Blacknest operatives in the area."
I paused, one hand resting on an ornate iron handle. It flaked at my touch. "Can you sense anyone? Like you did earlier?"
"Negative. There are no available W.I.S.P.s to scout the area."
"Naturally," I sighed, and pushed open the door as quietly as I could. It swung inwards on well-oiled hinges, revealing a long, airy gallery that stretched off into the gloom. Whatever this place had been used for, it must've been something big. Large supports were set into the ground at regular intervals, carefully carved to accommodate an enormous cylindrical structure, and two rusting iron gantries hung from the ceiling. In its hey-day, I imagined it would've been a hive of activity, but now it stood empty, silent, and I could almost taste the pervading abandonment and encroaching rot. Dust swirled around my feet as I clicked the door shut behind me.
"Inky?" I whispered. "Are you sure this is the right place? It looks like nobody's been here in years!"
"This is the correct location."
"So what about this dust? Where's the footprints?"
"The dust is a new development. It was not here when Blinky scouted this location."
"But—" My foot nudged against something in the murk, and I stooped to pick it up. It was an empty rifle magazine, slightly warm to the touch, and as I twisted it left and right a strangely tangy scent filled the air. "Wait, what's that smell?"
"Ozone. Atmospheric compositional analysis indicates unusually high levels of ozone, acetylene, and nitric oxide."
I stepped back towards the door. "Are they dangerous? Why're they here?"
"Not at these concentrations. Such gases are often byproducts of corona discharge and electrical arcing, which may be indicative of a serious electrical fault. This could be why the lights are inactive."
"Maybe," I sniffed again. It wasn't just the magazine that stunk of ozone; the smell hung in the air, slight but ever-present. "Good thing I have night vision, right?"
"Yes. It would be counterproductive for you to blunder around aimlessly in the dark when we are thirteen minutes from destruction. Please proceed to the armoury."
I felt my hairs stand up on end as I ran through the crumbling gallery, leaving powdery footprints in my wake. There was no denying it; this felt wrong! The Arachnid had torn Blacknest to shreds in the most brutal fashion imaginable; why weren't they here, licking their wounds and stocking up on the biggest guns they could find? Instead of a brightly-lit hub of activity, it was dark, covered in dust, and the only sign of life I'd found so far was an empty magazine, which could've been dropped by anyone at any time. It just didn't add up.
My disquiet stayed with me as I followed Inky's glowing line down a flight of stairs and along a vaulted brick passage, slick with damp. While it was still eerily quiet, at least there were some signs of modernisation; thick, black power cables snaked along the walls, heading towards a large metal door at the end of the corridor. A single red LED shone from a small keypad set into the wall to its side.
"That is the armoury," Inky said, perhaps unnecessarily. "Blinky welded it shut to prevent Blacknest from gaining access. In addition, it is sealed with an electromagnetic lock. We will need to defeat both to gain access."
"We could blow it off its hinges?" I said hopefully. "C'mon, Inky—"
"If you were paying attention, you would know that 'explosions' are strictly forbidden," Inky said. "In addition, that approach carries a high risk of collapsing the building. Being buried alive would present a significant impediment to completing your task."
"...yeah. Let's avoid that," I sighed, and took a long, deep breath. The smell of ozone was fainter still down here, but a thin layer of dust still covered the floor. In some places, it had clumped together into small piles. "Hey, Inky; doesn't this smell fishy to you?"
"I am not detecting any traces of trimethylamine. Perhaps you are mistaken."
"No, I mean…" I hesitated. "...shouldn't we have run into Blacknest by now? This is their armoury, after all."
"On that matter, I concur. Their absence is puzzling from both a logistical and tactical perspective."
"Do you think this is a trap?"
"I concede the possibility, but we do not have time to fully assess the situation. All we can do is proceed and resolve potential conflicts as they arise. Please proceed."
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Inky's clipped, clinical tones offered very little in the way of reassurance. My nerves thrummed and trembled as I approached the armoury door, and as nervous as I was I had to admit that Blacknest had definitely gone all out this time. It seemed to be made from a single piece of polished metal, unadorned with keyholes or windows, and practically exuded a feeling of ageless invulnerability. The building could be reduced to ash, the stars could burn out, and this door would still be here, probably without so much as a single scratch or scorch mark on its frame. It was unbreakable, it was invincible…
…and it was open! Not by much; just a crack, in fact, but as I ran my fingers over the surface I felt the door yield slightly at my touch. I tried again, harder this time, and it yawned open ponderously revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond.
"Um, Inky?" I said, quickly ducking back around the corner. "Didn't Blinky weld this door shut?"
"Confirmed. It appears that the sealing weld has been broken. In the absence of cutting torches or a thaumic lance, it is unclear how this was accomplished."
"And the magnetic locks?"
There was a pause. "They appear to be offline. Cause unknown."
"How convenient. Tell me, Inky; can you think of any reason why Blacknest would just throw open their armoury like this?"
"Negative."
"Neither can I — but who are we to refuse such a gracious invitation?" I smiled tightly. "Shields up, Inky. Let's go shopping."
I stopped at the armoury threshold. It was pleasant here, cool and damp, and the smell of oil and grease was a welcome change from the tang of ozone. There was light, too, courtesy of some spot-lights hanging from the dark oak beams, criss-crossing overhead. They were dim, possibly low on power, but the glow they provided was just enough that I could see without needing to rely on Inky's enhancements.
From the looks of things, Blacknest seemed to have set up shop in some kind of underground storeroom that was even older than the refinery itself, and possibly part of the original plantation. From where I stood, two wide ramps swept down to a large lower level laid with timeworn stone slabs. Large, metal racks lined the roughly hewn walls, holding guns, grenades, ammunition, and tooling in long, carefully ordered lines. Towards the back were thick metal crates, which presumably held yet more weaponry, and some wheeled cases which I'd last seen when Blacknest had assaulted the warehouse.
My eye, however, was drawn immediately to the centre of the room. Atop an engineering workbench, lying in a pool of light, was a positively enormous sniper rifle, bigger than anything I'd ever seen before. It was over a metre long, forged from cold black metal, with a thick, angular body and a long barrel tipped with a chevron muzzle brake. A simple scope was fitted to the top, the optics glinting in the light, and laid carefully before the rifle was a bandolier containing three boxy magazines. A gift bow, fashioned from a black leather strap and tied to the barrel, was a cute final touch.
"Oh, Vi, you magnificent bastard!" I murmured, and my heart sang as I ran down the ramp. How had she known? It didn't matter; all I needed to do was grab it all and run like hell! "Inky! How long do we have before the Arachnid explodes?"
"Approximately eleven minutes, thirty seconds."
"Right," I said, and snatched up the bandolier. It was heavy, but not prohibitively so. The rifle was a different matter; even with both hands, its shape and awkward weight distribution made securing it across my back a real challenge. When I'd finally managed it, the strap cut painfully into my collarbone and when I moved, the barrel dug at my injured calf. I twisted this way and that, trying to find some way it wouldn't be a source of constant irritation, and finally gave up with a sigh.
"Christ, this thing weighs a ton!" I complained. "The sooner we get it back to Clint, the better!"
"One moment, please. When Blinky was inventorying the armoury, he made note of a small safe set into the wall in the far corner. I am highlighting it now," Inky said. A moment later, a thoroughly unremarkable section of wall came to life with a bright blue glow. "Although he did not gain access at the time, acoustic imaging of the interior indicated the presence of a single magazine, matching the calibre of this rifle."
"So?"
"In my experience, items that are held inside carefully concealed safes are often superior to supposedly equivalent items found lying on workbenches. There is likely a reason those particular rounds are being hidden."
"You think they can give us an edge against the Arachnid?"
"It is worth investigating."
"...and, of course, you had to wait until after I'd strapped on this damn gun to tell me that!" Somewhat awkwardly, I manoeuvred myself and my weighty passenger between two weapons racks to the glowing wall safe. "So, how do we get in? Crack the code? Cut it with a magic blade?"
"Negative. Please touch the safe," Inky said. I complied, and there was a faint flare of green light under my fingertips. There was a clunk, somewhere deep within the safe, and I stepped back as a section of wall sprang open. "From experience, the simplest, safest, and quietest approach is to telekinetically override the lock."
"How…banal. So what do we have here?" I said, and peered curiously inside the safe. It was surprisingly empty, with the only item of interest being a magazine that looked, at first glance, to be identical to the three already on my bandolier. With a frown, I turned it over and tapped out a single, silvery bullet with 'Hammer Industries' stamped along its length. It was slightly lighter than I expected, but otherwise seemed entirely unremarkable. "A silver bullet? What, are Blacknest hunting werewolves now?"
"That is not silver. While further analysis is required, there is a strong match between this and the Chitauri weapon encountered at the warehouse. If so, it is likely extraterrestrial in origin."
"Really?" I looked at the bullet with new respect, amazed that something so remarkable could look so…prosaic. "Are you serious?"
"As previously established, I am always serious. Considering that Chitauri alloys are extremely rare and reportedly difficult to machine, I surmise that the value of that bullet may exceed everything else in this room. Combined."
"'Combined?'" I said, with a rush of excitement. "Seriously?"
"I am always serious. However, its inherent value is irrelevant, as this round will likely be necessary to bring down the Arachnid."
"Yes, but…" I clutched the round greedily to my chest. Clint must know a fence, right? If this round really was as valuable as Inky claimed, he'd never have to work again! My children could go to any college they wanted! "These… other rounds would do the job, right?"
"I would advise against it. In addition, I would also advise against allowing your avarice to influence you. It will only end in disaster."
"But I'm not! I'm—" My protests rung hollow, even to me. With a sigh of disappointment, I replaced the bullet in the magazine and tucked it into my bandolier. "You're right. I'm sorry; it's just that…this could've solved everything. For good."
"I am not interested in your justifications. I merely wish to ensure a successful outcome," said Inky. "This bullet may prove critical to achieving that."
I nodded, "Yeah, I know. I'd…better call Clint."
"Please stand by. I am detecting footsteps converging on our location. A great many footsteps."
My breath caught in my throat, "Blacknest?"
"I can think of no other alternatives. Immediate concealment is recommended."
I didn't need to be told twice. With my heart thudding in my chest, I dove behind a weapons rack and watched breathlessly through one of many tiny, gridded holes. Flashlights shone and flickered through the armoury door from the corridor beyond, and I could hear the distant thud-thud-thud of approaching footsteps. There were a lot of them, just as Inky had said; a great, stampeding rush of heavy army boots, storming down the corridor towards me.
"Contact in five seconds," Inky said. "For your safety, I am terminating all audible communications. Please pay attention to your overlay."
"Inky! Wait, Inky—" I fell silent as a Blacknest merc breached the room, rifle at the ready. He was heavily armed and armoured, clearly part of Pexley's praetorian guard, and I froze as his gaze swept across the room. Nine more followed, each with their own unique gear, and they covered one another with practiced ease as they quickly moved down the ramps to comb the armoury proper. Following them was—
"Barton!" Pexley snarled through the doorway, and I felt a thrill of pure terror. Suddenly, my hands were clammy and trembling, and I had to force myself to keep my breathing under control. This was the man who'd…who'd— "Barton! I know you're in here! There's nowhere to hide!"
He was right, and we both knew it. I was trapped, the only door guarded by eleven men who could all swat me as effortlessly as swatting a fly. What were my options? If I stayed here, he would order his goons to search the room. There was nowhere I'd be able to hide where they couldn't eventually find me, and when they did…
"Barton!"
No, I needed another option. I needed to throw him off his game, do something he'd never expect. Something bold, brash, and completely insane. Something like…
"I'm here, Pexley!" I shouted, ramming all notes of nervousness from my voice as I stepped out from behind the weapons rack. "You're right; why should I hide? I've got nothing to fear."
The mercs reacted immediately, and with a rippling click of safeties I found myself staring down ten separate gun barrels. I stared back defiantly, looking coolly at each mercenary in turn. Sure, my legs felt like they were turning to jelly and my heart was going a mile a minute, but I was damned if I was going to give them the satisfaction of knowing that! If I was going down, it was with a calm smile and a steady gaze.
"Put 'em down, lads. Ain't no point," Pexley said. An air of collective confusion went up amongst the mercs, but they lowered their guns nonetheless. "She's got one of those freak-shields, like that goddamn Brit. 'Seen it myself!"
"That's not the only new toy I've got," I said. "Why don't you come down here and see them for yourself? Or are you too scared?"
"Scared? I ain't scared!"
"No?" I smiled, smugly. "C'mon; your brave boys and girls are outside tangling with the Arachnid, an Avenger, and a guy who terrifies Strange himself, and you're here? What's your plan? You gonna hide away until it all blows over, and move in to kill off the survivors? You're even more cowardly than I thought!"
"I—" Pexley's eyes bulged, but this time he managed to keep his temper under control. "I know your game now, Barton. You're nothing more than a damn siren!"
"Sirens normally turn up before a shipwreck, Pexley," I pointed out. "You sank Blacknest all on your own!"
With a sneer, Pexley stepped through the door. The Blacknest mercs stepped aside to give their commander space, and he brushed past them with a contemptuous air as he stormed down the ramp towards me. I held my ground; no matter what happened, I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of seeing me cower before him.
"You think you're real smart, don't you?" He said, and his hands flexed and clenched into two enormous fists as he advanced. "You know, I've wiped a lot of smirks off a lot of faces in my time, but I can't remember the last time I got to do it twice!"
My phone vibrated gently beneath my trembling fingers, so gently I wasn't entirely sure I'd felt it. It vibrated again, more insistently this time, and then across the room a smoke grenade lit up with a gentle blue glow. Okay, so that had to be Inky, but…what was she thinking? Did she really expect me to slip past Pexley, a man with twice my reach and a shocking turn of speed? On the other hand, she did know exactly how much I'd been wanting to move things with my mind…
"Oh yeah?" I said. It wasn't much of a comeback, but then my attention was focused fully on the grenade. In my mind's eye, I could feel it in the palm of my hand; cold, hard, and heavy. "So why don't you tell everyone exactly what you're gonna do to me? I mean, I'm sure all your men here are totally comfortable watching a big, tough man like you kick the crap out of a defenceless woman!"
"Don't give me that shit, Barton!" Pexley snapped, but I could see some of his mercs shifting uncomfortably. "I sent a bunch of lads to come and grab some better gear, and what do I find when they don't check in? Laura Barton, helpin' herself to my guns and my Judas bullet! You ain't just some stay-at-home soccer mom, are you?"
"Sure I am!" I pulled gently with my mind, and watched with amazement as the glowing grenade rattled on the worktop. Christ; I was doing it! I was actually doing actual, genuine magic! "In fact, I'm no different from your merc's moms, their sisters, or their daughters. I'm sure they're all perfectly happy standing around while you pound me into a fine red paste! It's fine! All in a day's work for the brave boys of Blacknest!"
"Uh, sir?" A merc stepped forward. He was on the shorter side, and swathed from head to toe in matte black tactical gear. His voice was muffled by the gas mask, but his gravelly voice had the air of someone trying way too hard to be gruff and manly. "We… could just restrain her."
"What?" Pexley whirled around. "Are you a complete idiot, Grahams? You know she's Hawkeye's wife, right?"
"Yessir. I know sir!" Grahams shrank back, "But, uh, I was thinking we could trade—"
"Nobody asked you to think! I told you idiots…"
WIth Pexley distracted, I focused again on the grenade and pulled. It felt heavy, much heavier than it had any right to be, and I felt sweat break out on my forehead as it shifted, inch by painful inch towards the table's edge. I needed a bit more oomph—
"...this is why she's so dangerous!" Pexley was snarling. "She gets inside your head, seduces you with her siren song, and suddenly you're dancin' to her tune an' doing what she wants! Do you work for her, huh? Is she payin' you? No! I pay you, an' that means you work for me, doing what I want, when I want it—"
With a cry of exertion, I put my entire mind behind the grenade and yanked. It leapt from the table, and I watched in elated astonishment as it arced across the room to land in my outstretched palm. The Blacknest commander twisted back towards me, his expression contorted with rage and fist raised to deliver lethal judgement.
"You goddamn—"
"I told you I had new toys, Pexley!" I said, and with a wrench I pulled the pin from the grenade and tossed it at Pexley's feet. "And this one's for you!"
As far as one-liners went, it was pretty atrocious — but strangely satisfying at the same time. I saw Pexley's eyes go wide with surprise and horror, and then with a loud hiss gouts of smoke erupted from the grenade and billowed up into a thick white cloud. From within the fog there came a strained bellow of rage, and I leapt back just as a fist like a bowling ball hummed through the air, inches from my face.
"Holy shit!" Grahams shouted. "She's a Jedi!"
I froze. What was I meant to do now? Even with Pexley incapacitated, I still needed to get past his goons. His well equipped goons, with all the latest in body armour and rifles…and grenades! Real grenades! Of course, Inky would never let me set those off, but there was no need for any of them to know that…
"Actually, I'm not really sure what I am. Not anymore," I said, with a cold smile. "But you guys saw that, right? Anyone here want to play hot potato with a frag grenade? Anyone?"
For a long moment, the only sound was the sound of Pexley coughing and spluttering. The mercs exchanged an uncertain look, and I watched with satisfaction as they drew back as one. "Good answer. Now, why don't you just step aside and let me out? Nobody has to get hurt—"
From somewhere in the smoke there was another roar, and I jumped back further as Pexley staggered free of the cloud. His eyes were red and streaming, and his expression was murderous as he swung blindly at the open air.
"No! You're not getting away this time, Barton!" he shouted. "Take her down! Guns! Knives! I don't care how; just kill the bitch!"
Stung into action, a heavyset merc at the top of the ramp stepped forward and raised his rifle. His finger tensed on the trigger — and the rafters blazed to life with a brilliant white light that reduced the armoury to sharp lines and silhouettes. I threw up my hands to shield my eyes, and through my fingers saw a star-bright lance streak across the room and strike the merc squarely in the chest. There was a blinding flash, a brutally curtailed scream, and a blast of hot air rushed through the armoury, carrying with it the pungent stench of ozone. When the glow faded, all that remained was a cloud of fine white dust, drifting lazily to the cold stone floor.
There was a horrified silence, broken by a sudden burst of sharp, mocking laughter. It filled the room, seemingly coming from everywhere at once, echoing building upon echoes until the air sang an unsettling, dissonant chorus. The surviving mercenaries looked about nervously, their fingers close to their triggers as they searched desperately for the source of the sound.
"Hello, Blacknest!" Vi's voice floated through the air, playful and chilling at the same time. "Are we having a good time?"
"Ronin!" Pexley drew his gun and gestured to a subordinate. "You! Go get reinforcements! We've got her cornered!"
"You've got me cornered? That's a strange way of looking at it." Vi said. The thick armoury door slammed shut, just ahead of the retreating mercenary, and the thud of heavy deadbolts reverberated through the room. "Don't bother radioing for help, either. You've seen what I can do with visible light, and I'm sure you're all smart enough to know that radio waves are just a hop, skip and a jump along the electromagnetic spectrum, right?"
"We'll take you on ourselves, then!" Pexley declared, and drew himself up. "Why don't you stop hidin' and come out to fight?"
"Brave words, sweetie; but be careful what you wish for!" Vi said cheerfully, in a sing-song tone. "The last team you sent down here demanded exactly the same thing. 'Want to guess how that ended?"
"That was…a dozen men. I sent a dozen men!"
"Really? I kind of lost count," Vi giggled. "But you know how it is with you mercs, right? You all look the same, you all dress the same, and you all scream the same. Allow me to demonstrate—"
Another flash tore through the room, and with a terrified shriek a merc exploded into a fountain of white dust.
"You see?" Vi said, as his squadmates cried out in fear and scrambled away. "Was that number three or three hundred? Who knows? Who cares? It's not like there's a shortage of hired goons, right?"
"You're a monster!" Pexley bit out. " I shoulda expected nothin' less from the bitch who murdered Simon!"
"I prefer the term 'apex predator'," said Vi, almost conversationally. "And I didn't murder Simon; I put him down. Quickly and painlessly."
"You—"
"Don't pout, sweetie; you don't have the cheekbones for it," Vi chided him. "If it's any help, there was nothing you could've done. Think about it; all those 'untouchable' kingpins, cut apart in their 'impenetrable' fortresses? Simon's penthouse was a breeze by comparison! I was in, out, and back in my motel room before my morning coffee even got cold—"
"There! She's there!" With a panicked cry, a merc raised his rifle and emptied the magazine at something dark and unseen in the shadows overhead. Another merc joined in, his eyes wide and wild, and I dove under a workbench as their bullets sparked and ricocheted off the rough brick ceiling. A moment later their guns fell silent, the ammunition spent, but I could hear their shallow, terrified breathing from across the room.
"Nice try, lads, but you're ice cold," Vi said. "And since I don't give out silver medals—"
The mercs exchanged a terrified glance, then threw down their guns and fled for the tightly-sealed armoury door, gibbering mindlessly. An incandescent wave swept through the room, and when it faded there stood two glittering columns of dust, swirling and glowing as they dispersed.
"Systems alert," Inky's voice's voice was barely a murmur. "There are now eight minutes until a catastrophic resonance event."
Pexley looked on, his jaw working furiously, and then he bellowed up at the rafters, "You're gonna pay for all of this, Ronin; Simon and what you've done to my boys. I swear, you ain't leavin' here alive!"
"I think you'll find that's my line," Vi's voice suddenly turned cold and deadly. "You know, you really should've just quit after I tagged Simon. You could've eked out a perfectly miserable life as another nameless thug working for some other two-bit crime lord, but no; you just had to go poking your nose where you weren't wanted, didn't you? You hurt my friend, kidnapped my Poppy, and tried to torture my Sparky to death! Believe me, Pexley; I'm not just going to kill you; I'm going to destroy you."
"Big words," Pexley spat. "'Specially comin' from a scared woman hiding up in the rafters. Why don't you come down here and make good on that threat?"
"In the rafters? Don't be absurd—"
There was a thud. A merc jerked violently and fell to the floor with a long, drawn-out gasp, clutching at the scintillating shard embedded in his back. The air behind him shimmered, almost like a mirage, and then rippled to reveal a lithe woman in a dark leather costume. She was holding Ronin's long, curved sword, and as our gazes met she raised it in a cocky salute and winked.
"—I've been with you all along."
"Oh, shit! It's Ronin!" another soldier shouted, and once again the armoury resounded with gunfire as Blacknest opened up on the imposter. Vi darted forward, slipping through the hail of bullets with catlike grace, and vaulted over a workbench to disarm a mercenary with a well-placed kick. Her sword flashed once, and with a spray of arterial blood the mercenary collapsed, choking and pawing uselessly at his throat.
"Stop her!" Pexley roared, fumbling for his pistol. "Stop her!"
"Not so cocky without a hostage, eh?" Vi laughed. With a flick of her wrist she summoned up another shard of light and threw it at a merc with a smooth, overhand cast. He screamed in pain as it burned through his shoulder, and in that instant she was on him in a blur of steel. They fell behind a rack, mercifully out of view, but his scream cut short and blood flowed across the slabs.
"What do we do, sir?" A merc called out. His weapon was trained on the rack, his finger on the trigger. "She's too damn fast! At this rate, we'll end up shooting each other!"
"Yeah? We've still got an ace up our sleeve," Pexley looked balefully at me. "Grab her!"
"But sir, Ronin—"
"—is gonna kill you anyway, Evans! She ain't gonna stop until all of us are dead!" He said, and raised his voice. "You know what? Screw it; I'll do it! You boys just keep her off me until we're clear!"
I knew what was coming, but there was simply nowhere else to hide. With a roar of frustration, Pexley lifted the workbench with a single hand and tossed it effortlessly to one side, still holding his pistol in the other. The click of the hammer going back turned my blood cold.
"On your feet, Barton!" he snapped. "Unless you wanna find out how good that freak-shieldin' of yours really is!"
For a split-second I thought about telling him exactly where he could stick that pistol of his, but quickly thought better of it. People were depending on me; Clint was depending on me, and if I got my head blown off by being a smartass then I'd be condemning everyone for miles around to a quick, brutal death. With a nod, I raised my hands above my head and slowly got to my feet. All I could do was pray that Vi knew what she was doing.
"Good choice," Pexley said, and raised his voice. "Hey, Ronin! I saw on the news that you reckon you're some kind of artist, right? Well, if you don't throw down your sword and come out right now, I'm gonna see what kind of artwork I can make with Barton's brains!"
"Another hostage, Pexley? We really need to discuss your control issues." There was a sigh from behind the weapons rack. "Okay, fine! I'm coming out!"
Vi emerged from behind the rack, her sword and costume streaked with rich, red blood. In an instant, the mercenaries' guns were trained on her, and in the electric silence I heard the subtle, metallic sound of shaking guns. The mercenaries were on a knife edge; their expressions tight, their breathing low and fast, and I found myself frozen to the spot as I watched. One false move, one unexpected sound — that was all it'd take for everything to go to hell in a handbasket. Just a single misstep…
For her part, Vi barely registered the mercs' existence. She surveyed them with a look of brief, idle curiosity, almost like a slightly interesting museum piece, and then shook her head wearily and turned her attention to her blade. Pexley's goons watched with rapt attention as she drew her thumb and forefinger carefully along its length, stripping away the blood and leaving clear, shining metal in its wake.
"You know, that last guy really needed to watch his blood sugar levels," She remarked, and casually flicked the blood off into parts unknown. Job done, she turned to Pexley and asked, "So now what?"
"Throw down your sword!"
"Oh, right!" Vi said. The mercenaries jumped as she casually tossed the weapon to the floor, and the clatter echoed around the room. "Now let Laura go!"
Pexley smiled evilly. "You don't really think I'm gonna do a damn fool thing like that, do you? If I've got Barton, I've got Hawkeye in the palm of my hand, but you—" Pexley's smile broadened to a shark-like grin. "—oh, killing you's gonna make me famous! You're my ticket back to the big leagues!"
"You thought you were in the big leagues? Seriously?" Vi snorted. "I told you, sweetie, you were nothing more than a patsy for a small-town sociopath! You weren't even a special patsy; if anything, I did you a favour by offing Simon before he got bored and threw you away!"
"Bullshit! You don't know what you're talking about!"
"Really? I just watched Laura, a woman with no prior combat experience, a complete mockery of you and your hand picked kill-team! She would've gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for that meddling bugger at the top of the ramp!" Vi said, and gave him a penetrating look. "Let's be honest, Pexley; how do you expect to swim with the real sharks if you can barely handle her?"
"I guess we're gonna find out, aren't we? Well…maybe you won't," Pexley shifted his handcannon to point directly at Vi. "Any last words, Ronin? Better make 'em quick; I've got a List to grab."
Vi stared at him silently, as if considering her options, and something changed. I wasn't sure what, exactly; maybe it was a slight tensing of her muscles, but all the hairs on the back of my neck were suddenly standing up on end. Try as I might, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something eldritch in the air; the armoury seemed…colder somehow, and the shadows dancing in the corners felt that little bit more menacing.
"Systems Alert. There are now seven minutes until a catastrophic resonance event," Inky intoned. Her crisp tones seemed off as well. Dreary, drained of life.
"You're right, we're out of time," Vi said, and the lights overhead hummed and waned as she spoke. "So you know what, Pexley? I'm going to do you a favour."
Pexley hesitated. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
"I'm going to show you who you really are. What you really are. All those terrible things you've done, all that cruelty…all that weakness. No more hiding, no more excuses; just the pure, unvarnished truth." She inclined her head and looked at him, almost curiously. "Most people can't handle it. I wonder if you can?"
"Fuck you! Boys!" Pexley pulled the trigger, and he and his men opened up as one. Vi didn't move, didn't even flinch as the armoury lit up with flashes of white light and the shriek of superheated metal as round after round crashed into her shields. As the last gun fell silent with a desultory click, a self-satisfied smile flickered across her face.
"Nice try, lads; kind of predictable, but…you tried." she stepped forward, and the mercenaries backed away nervously. "Now, let me show you something new."
In a sweeping, theatrical gesture Vi raised her hand towards the ceiling, and ribbons of coursing glowing power coursed out of thin air into the palm of her hand. As the glow intensified, the rest of the room grew colder and darker still, as if she was draining the light out of the air itself. The shadows massed hungrily.
"You know, you should be honoured. Not many people get to see this side of me," Vi said, with a nasty little chuckle. "And Pexley? About those last words?"
Pexley's face was a death mask of terror, but he swallowed and somehow choked out, "What?"
"Go to hell."
Everything happened at once.
With a desperate cry, the Blacknest Commander lunged at Vi, his eyes red and maddened with fear. She swayed gracefully out of the way, smiled, and gestured calmly at the lamps overhead. One by one they exploded, and I dove for cover as they showered the room with shards of red hot glass. The light died and the shadows swept in, rising over us like a tsunami of pure, black pitch. There were shapes in that wave, all teeth and pointy tails, and I froze in terror as the darkness came crashing down and swallowed us whole.
"Vi—" My shriek died on my lips as I fell into a freezing, soundless void that was both unimaginably vast and crushingly oppressive. I heard someone cry out, somewhere far, far away, and there were the faintest whispers of a gunshot. A light glimmered, flaring like a supernova in the night, but it faded as I sank deeper into the cloying, tarry depths.
The darkness was absolute, but as I drifted I thought I heard…something. At first it was just a rhythmic thudding in my ears, like a heartbeat, but as it grew it was accompanied by an insistent, tinny beep that stirred something long-forgotten, deep inside. With a feeling of dread, I realised it wasn't a heartbeat, it was an ECG.
"Dad?" I whispered. Snatches of memories reeled through my mind; an endless procession of hospital rooms, the sharp tang of disinfectant, and sombre doctors speaking with my parents in low, careful tones. My Dad took my hand, smiled gently, and with a wrench I watched him close his eyes with a long, peaceful sigh. His fingers fell from mine, and as the ECG sounded a long, drawn-out wail—
"Found you!" A glowing hand punched through the darkness and grabbed me firmly by the wrist. The memory vanished and suddenly I could feel cold, hard tiles under my fingertips. "On your feet, Laura Barton! No napping on the job!"
"I—I—" I stuttered. There was a sigh, and a moment later I was unceremoniously hauled to my feet.
"No point talking. I can't hear you," Vi said briskly. "Just come on!"
Without hesitation, Vi dragged me through the thick, unyielding darkness. I staggered along behind, holding on as tightly as I could, until with one final pull I fell into the long brick corridor. It was still dark and dank, even with Inky's enhancements, but to my starved senses it was a riot of sound and colour. I gasped, and staggered against the wall as I struggled to get my mind and breathing back under control.
"Easy, easy!" Vi said, and moved in to support me. "It can be a bit overwhelming the first time—"
"'A bit'?" I fixed her with a furious glare. "What the hell was that? Was that…hell?"
"No! That's ridiculous." Vi pointed at the armoury door. It was open, and just beyond was an empty, silent void, as if the world simply ended at that threshold. "See? It's just darkness. That's all."
"'That's all'? That's all?" I yelled. "I saw things! I saw my Dad! He was—"
"—a hallucination. Darkness that deep messes with your head. It dredges up all kinds of things; things we've buried, things we want to bury, and sometimes—" Vi gave me a sharp look. "—things we haven't fully gotten over. If you aren't prepared for it, it'll rip your mind to shreds."
"Christ," I murmured, staring deep into the emptiness. A place without light or sound, where your only companions were the nightmarish fragments of your own psyche… "Maybe they would've been better off dead."
"Don't be melodramatic. I'll come back once we're done and put Pexley down like the dog he is," she smiled thinly. "Or maybe I'll give him to Clint as a present. You guys have a midwinter's celebration, right?"
I ignored that. "What about his mercs?"
"If they surrender, I'll let 'em go," she said, and sighed when she saw my surprise. "You can't forget about marketing, sweetie. If I kill everyone, how am I going to turn Ronin into an unstoppable-yet-undeniably-sexy femme fatale vigilante?"
"Hah," I snorted. "And for a moment there, I thought you were being merciful."
"Call it payment for services rendered. Somebody needs to spread that message," she shrugged. "But right now, you've got to get this ridiculously oversized gun somewhere, right?"
I nodded. "'Top of Keame Refineries HQ. Clint's got to take out the—"
My phone buzzed. "Systems alert. There are now six minutes until a catastrophic resonance event! Immediate action must be taken!"
"— you can explain the details on the way!" Vi waved her hand, and the armoury door slammed shut with a very final clang. "That should hold 'em; let's move!"
We sprinted down the corridor, splashing through puddles and kicking up clouds of Vi's victims as we ran. It wasn't easy going; the awkward shape of the rifle and its overbearing weight made every step a chore, accompanied by the occasional jolt of pain as the pointed barrel dug at my calf. I did my best to keep up, but by the time we reached the gallery I'd been reduced to a winded mess, hopping and staggering along in Vi's wake.
"Okay, the bike's just this way—" She pointed across the gallery to another set of wooden double doors. I nodded breathlessly in response, and she gave me a look filled with concern. "Hey, Laura; you okay?"
"I'm fine!" I said defiantly, and completely ruined it by bending over and putting my hands on my knees. "It's just this damn gun…"
She sighed. "C'mon; give it me. 'Don't want you dropping dead of a heart attack."
"That is ill-advised." Inky said, "Ronin does not handle firearms. You will break the masquerade."
"Ronin also doesn't let her mate do all the heavy lifting, Inky," Vi said tartly, and crooked a finger in my direction. "Rifle, Laura. Now."
I gratefully unshouldered the gun and handed it to Vi. In her hands, it seemed irritatingly weightless, and she gave it a brief inspection before strapping it to her back, "See? Much better."
"You have still not yet explained how it is that you knew to retrieve this specific weapon. I did not ask you to do so." Inky said.
"Because, oh light of my love, I know you better than you know yourself." she said, and smiled brightly at my phone. "And I know exactly how your disturbing little thought processes work."
"That is not an explanation."
"It's all you're gonna get. A girl's got to have some secrets, right?" She winked, and jogged towards the large double doors. "If I didn't, how else could I be such a 'magnificent bastard'?"
I gave her an annoyed look. "I still can't believe you were skulking around in there!"
"Yeah? Well, I can't believe you were going to risk our lives so you could sell a Chitauri bullet on the black market!" Vi looked at me askance. "For shame, Laura!"
"It was just a moment of weakness!" I protested. "You try raising three kids on a single salary! It…gets tight, sometimes."
"Hey, the main thing is that you didn't give in. I've known lots of people who did," Vi said, and flicked her hand idly at the large double doors. They swung open softly, and pale, ethereal moonlight streamed through the opening. "I'll grab the bike. Let the lads know we're incoming!"
She vanished through the doors. While I waited, I took cover in some nearby shadows and clumsily called up Clint's number with shaking, sweaty hands. On the third attempt I got it right, and held it up to my ear as my nerves thrummed with anxious energy. Was he okay? Blacknest had been bad enough, but he'd gone after Blacknest and the Arachnid. What if Thera wasn't up to it? What if they were both now—
There was a click, and I felt tears of relief prick at my eyes as Clint's voice came through loud and clear. "Hon? Hon? Is that you?"
"It's me!" I said hoarsely. "We've got the gun!"
Clint exhaled. "Thank god! Are you okay? What happened?"
"Pexley happened," I said. "It's okay. Vi dealt with him."
"He's dead?"
"Not…exactly," I thought about the deep, infinite darkness, and shivered. "It's a bit messed up, actually."
"You can tell me all about it later— Christ, that was close!" In the background, I heard a zip and a sharp metallic noise. "Listen, hon. I've still got a bit of a Blacknest problem here, so just get back as quick as you can! I'll meet up with you near the foyer!"
"Will do!" I said. Right on cue, there was a crack from around the corner and a litany of curses delivered in Vi's lilting tones. A gentle hum filled the air. "Be quick! We've only got a couple of minutes left."
"I'll be there. Count on it."
The line went dead just as Vi wheeled the bike into view. She was scowling and blowing on her fingertips, and when she saw me she shook her head in disgust.
"Next time, I'm stealing something that's easier to hotwire. Still, here it is," she said, and sat down irritably on the motorcycle. It was smaller than I expected, sleek and angular, and its electric blue highlights glinted brightly in the moonlight. "You ever rode pillion before?"
"Sure; Clint used to have a bike when we first went out. He called it the 'Sky Cycle'," I said. I swung a leg over the seat and wrapped my arms tightly around Vi's waist. "'Never explained why."
"Was it a S.H.I.E.L.D bike? Maybe it could fly," she said. "This thing doesn't, but it does have a kick like a mule. Better hold on tight, sweetie!"
"Wait; what do you mean by—Vi!" I yelped as the bike rocketed forward in a cloud of dust, and the decaying buildings and rusting pipes became little more than a blur. Ahead of us, across rough, broken ground, loomed the cracked frontage of the refinery HQ, and at the very top was Keame's office. I felt a sudden rush of determination; just one last push, and this would all be over…one way or another.
"Systems alert. There are now five minutes until a catastrophic resonance event! Immediate action must be taken!"
"I know, Inky!" Vi shouted, and piled on the speed. "They said they're going to be there, right? They'd better be!"
"They will!" I said confidently, and as we hurtled between ancient terraces a golden light filled the air. It flooded down the street, flowing like silk over shattered brickwork and broken windows like silk, and I watched in wonder as the night was simply swept away. "Is this—"
"It's Sparky!" Vi said jubilantly, and with a spray of dirt and gravel we shot out across uneven ground, leaving the old refinery in our wake. "Whatever he's doing, it's gotta be something big!"
"Like what—" My question died on my lips. In the distance I could see the hulking, angular form of the Arachnid, wreathed in a blinding nimbus. Its movements seemed strangely erratic, almost violent, and as it screamed and wrenched from left to right I realised it was struggling. Around its legs the glow intensified, forming great, pulsing beams that converged on a faint silhouette, almost lost amongst the light. They were moving towards the HQ with an air of grim determination, and despite its thrashing and bucking the Arachnid was inexorably dragged along in their wake.
"Like that," Vi said, with some admiration. "How much you think that thing weighs?"
"God knows," I murmured. "And to think, I had trouble with that smoke grenade!"
"Don't sell yourself short, sweetie; that smoke grenade was awesome. Pexley never even saw it coming!"
"Well, Inky wouldn't let me use a cow, so…"
"Oh, she told you about that?" Vi chuckled. My fingers dug in reflexively as we jolted and juddered our way across the wrecked parking lot. We were so close now; barely a stone's throw from the refinery doors… "That guy deserved everything he got. Total arse, off his tits on scrumpy, yelling about how I was an 'abomination' and an 'affront to the Goddess'! He's just lucky I wasn't feeling more…bullish."
I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Or that there weren't more sheep around. That could've been a real ca-lamb-ity."
"Christ," I muttered. "You know what? You and Thera deserve one another!"
"Aw, what a nice thing to say!" Vi said, and the bike slowed as she applied the brakes. "Anyway, enough chit chat; we're here…and look! Someone's coming to meet us!"
I looked eagerly over Vi's shoulder as the bike rolled to a stop just beside the ruined doors. A figure was approaching, sprinting across the calcined dirt. At first, they were just a shadow against the radiant backdrop, but as they drew closer I could make out the half-empty quiver, the commando leathers…that abominable haircut. My heart leapt.
"Clint?" I whispered. I leapt off the bike and all but tackled him to the ground. "Clint! Oh, Christ—"
"Hey, hon," he said. His voice was calm, almost cocky, but his relieved smile lit up my world. "Word on the street is that you've got somethin' for me."
"What? Oh, yes!" I turned back to Vi, who'd already unshouldered the rifle and was holding it out expectantly. I took it with both hands, and still staggered as the weight of the gun pulled me down. "One…one ridiculously oversized gun, as promised!"
"I knew you could do it, hon. Never doubted you for a second…" Clint's voice trailed off as he stared at Vi's black and yellow costume, and when he spoke again his voice had turned distinctly frosty. "Why, if it ain't 'Ronin', Belle of St. Louis."
"And if it isn't Hawkeye, universal punchline!" Vi said lightly. If she'd noticed Clint's chillines, she didn't show it.
"Glad you could finally join the party, buddy."
"You do know there's such a thing as 'fashionably late', right? Probably not; I mean, I've seen what passes for fashion in your eyes—"
"Systems alert. There are now four minutes until a catastrophic resonance event! Immediate action must be taken!"
"—and while I'd simply love to continue this conversation, you'd better get going," she finished. "Top floor, right?"
I went to strap the gun across my back, and hesitated. "You're not coming?"
"I…need to help Sparky," she said, with a helpless smile. "It's an Order thing. And a 'me' thing, I guess."
"Charging in like a knight on her steed?"
"Hah. You guys know the rules, right? First one to the afterlife gets 'em in!" She gripped the throttle, and gave us one last smile. "In case you're wondering; mine's a double."
There was a cloud of dust, and she was gone.
Clint and I ran quickly and quietly through the foyer. It was dark in here, with the only light provided by the glow from outside and a badly damaged vending machine. Candy wrappers and open cans littered the floor, and I gave Clint an arch look as we passed on by into the refinery itself.
"Yeah, I know," he said. "But Thera wasn't kiddin' when he said he needed to eat somethin'. Perked him right up!"
"I'm not surprised," I said, and threw a quick look over my shoulder. "I can't believe you let him drink that many energy drinks, either!"
"Hey, he made it pretty clear that I don't 'let' him do anything," Clint pointed out. "But it worked! Before today, I thought that 'gives you wings' was a goddamn metaphor."
"That good, eh?"
"Believe me, that Arachnid didn't know what had hit it."
"And Blacknest?"
"Most of 'em scattered after the Arachnid chased 'em down. The rest were easy pickings."
I gave him breathless thumbs, and we sprinted in silence down the wide, airy corridor towards the stairs. This time I had a much better handle on the gun, and while it still felt like a millstone around my neck at least it wasn't carving great chunks out of my leg with every step. It was…manageable. Almost.
"You okay there, hon?" Clint said, as we reached the same wide, sweeping staircase we'd climbed barely an hour ago. "We got five storeys to climb. Maybe I should carry it—"
I glowered. "No way! I got it all the way here, didn't I?"
"I'm pretty sure I saw Vi carrying it, y'know."
"I got it almost all the way here, didn't I?" I corrected myself. "Listen; I'm bringing this gun to Keame's office, and that's final!"
"Okay, okay!" Clint held up his hands. "Just making sure!"
I gave him another glower and began to climb, keeping one hand firmly on the bannister for balance. It was hard going, and I could feel the sweat beading at my brow even before we'd reached the second floor. I wasn't about to give up, though; this was my job, and I was going to see it through to the end even if it damn well killed me! Again.
My phone buzzed just as we reached the third floor. "I have completed my analysis of the special round recovered from the Blacknest armoury."
"You found a 'special' round?" Clint cut in, and I nodded. "So what is it?"
"As previously suspected, the alloys are indeed Chitauri in origin. However, an assessment of the bullet itself, including its morphology, machining, and interior components, indicates that it is more insidious than appearances suggest."
"...go on."
"This bullet is, in fact, a two stage weapon. Upon striking a target it will drill through the surface, taking advantage of the exceptional hardness of the Chitauri alloys. Once the surface has been penetrated, the bullet detonates, violently spraying shrapnel in all directions."
I shuddered. "That sounds grim."
"Correct. A direct hit with this round would be rapidly and gruesomely lethal, regardless of body armour."
"You know, I think I've heard of these before…" Clint snapped his fingers. "It's a Judas bullet! Wait; Pexley had a goddamn Judas bullet in his armoury? Where'd he get that from?"
"Maybe it was a gift from Hammer?" I said, and leaned against the wall to catch my breath. "Like the Arachnids?"
"You know, it's playin' fast and loose like this that got their CEO sent down for life," Clint growled. "What kind of idiot gives a pair of idiot like Keame an' Pexley a goddamn Judas bullet?"
"Who cares? It's ours now," I leaned against the wall, while I tried to catch my breath. "And we're going to use it to take down the Arachnid!"
"At least it'll do some good," Clint said. "Ready, hon? C'mon; just two more storeys."
The last two storeys felt like some kind of unending nightmare, and with every step I cursed whatever mule headed stubbornness had compelled me to hold onto this blasted gun. I forced myself to move, onwards and upwards, powered by nothing more than sheer grit and determination. They lasted just long enough for me to reach the top floor — at which point I immediately collapsed in a sweaty heap, and gasped for breath while every last muscle in my body made it painfully clear what they'd thought of the last two minutes of abuse.
"Critical alert! There are now two minutes until a catastrophic resonance event! Immediate action must be taken!"
"Thank…you…Inky," I gasped, and with Clint's help I clambered laboriously to my feet. We pushed through the double doors into Keame's expansive office, and were immediately greeted by the brilliant golden glow of Thera's magic. It shone through the cracked glass, reflecting brightly off well-polished wood and metal, and I threw a hand over my eyes to shield them from the sudden glare.
"Right, we're here!" Clint rubbed his hands together, suddenly all business. "First things first, we need to get ourselves an opening. This is probably toughened glass, so we're not gonna be able to smash through it with a chair…"
"Inky?" I said. "Can you help?"
"Confirmed. Please place your hand on the window."
"I…okay." I limped warily across the office and placed my hand flat on the window. "Now wh—"
I felt a slight tingle in my hand, and the window exploded out into empty space. The shards briefly hung in midair, twisting and turning in an emerald haze, and then fell towards the ground in a stream of glittering glass. Far below, I could see Thera and the Arachnid still fighting for control, and it slewed back and and forth as he wrenched it into position for the kill shot. Something was missing, though…
I frowned, "Hey, where's Vi?"
"Probably got bored and wandered off," Clint sighed. "You gonna give me the rifle, hon?"
"Critical alert! Catastrophic resonance event in T-minus ninety seconds!"
"Oh, shit!" I said. The weariness was gone, and I stepped away from the opening and unslung the rifle in a single, adrenaline fuelled moment. Clint wasted no time in making it ready, and assembled the rifle by the window with the fluid ease of decades of experience. Once it was seated to his satisfaction, he spent a few moments staring down the scope while making adjustments to the optics.
"Gonna be hard," he muttered to himself. "Can barely see anything with this damn lightshow."
"Everything okay, hon?" I said urgently. "I don't want to rush you, but—"
There was a colossal bang from behind us, and we both whirled to see the large, double doors fly open and smash into the walls on either side, knocking several paintings off the walls. In the doorway stood an enormous, musclebound figure, swaying and staggering with an unsteady, almost drunken gait. In his hand he held one of the boxy, modern-looking assault rifles of the Blacknest elite, and my blood ran cold as he staggered into the room and fixed us with a maddened stare.
"What the hell?" Clint said. "Is that…"
It was Pexley — or at least, I thought it was Pexley, but he was in such a state it was hard to be sure. His clothing was ripped and tattered, his body armour hanging on with a single buckle, and his exposed arms were covered in a mess of deep violet bruises and thin cuts. On his face, a single red weal ran from his jawline up to a milky, unseeing eye that rolled uselessly in its socket, while the other burned with an unholy zeal that sent shivers down my spine. He laughed a low, manic laugh, and as he did a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his lips and down to his chin.
"No way," I murmured. "No way!"
"Simon…has punished me," he said, and raised a trembling hand to touch his scalp. His close-cropped hair, I realised, was now shot through with patches of white. "I…have failed him. But he has given me a second chance!"
The assault rifle slowly rose to face us, shaking wildly in his grip. Clint inhaled sharply, and I froze on the spot even as I reached out through Inky to get a grip on the gun. It felt futile; it was much heavier than the smoke grenade, and Pexley's grip, even weakened, was likely much stronger than what I could muster…
"He demands…justice!" Pexley went on, and the rifle shifted to point directly at Clint. "He demands retribution—"
There was a blur and a flash of pure white light. The enormous man jerked and stiffened, and the gun fell harmlessly from his hand as he went to feel the razor-thin line across his neck. His one good eye went wide, his lips moved soundlessly, and with a horrible meaty noise his head slid smoothly from his shoulders, hitting the flood with a dull thud. His body collapsed limply alongside, deep red blood oozing freely from the stump.
"Get back in your hole, Pexley," Vi growled. She stood over the corpse, a look of incandescent rage on her face and Ronin's long, curved sword in her hand. It was glowing — no, burning; white flames licked up and down its length, and with another cry she brought it down on the headless corpse with a mighty two-handed blow. I looked away just in time, and when I looked back only glowing embers remained.
"...Christ," Clint said, in the silence that followed. "I thought you'd dealt with him, Vi!"
"I did!" Vi stared at the embers, and beneath the anger I could see a mixture of confusion and anxiety, bubbling merrily away. "I…did. He was trapped, and…I don't know how he…"
"An' why're you here?" I thought you were looking after Thera!"
"Something felt wrong," she said. "I can't explain it; I just had…a hunch you were in danger. Besides—"
"Critical alert! Catastrophic resonance event in T-minus sixty seconds!"
"You know what? It doesn't matter," Clint said abruptly, and turned back to the rifle. "Just make sure you clean up after yourself next time! Laura?"
"Um, yes?"
"Magazine!"
I silently unhooked the magazine and handed it to Clint, then looked back at Vi. She now looked downright spooked, and as she stared at Pexley's ashes she ran a hand through her hair, lightly teasing her snowy white streaks. When she caught me looking, she quickly lowered her hand and gave me a brave smile, but it was clear to both of us that she was fooling no-one.
"Hey, hon?" Clint said suddenly, intruding on my thoughts. "Look out the window, would you? Tell me I ain't seein' things."
"Critical alert! Catastrophic resonance event in T-minus thirty seconds!"
I obliged, and gasped in surprise. Two figures now stood beside Thera as he faced down the Arachnid. They were an unmistakable pair; one, a tall rangy man wearing a long, flowing cloak, and the other was a shorter, more heavyset individual wearing only a simple, dark robe.
"That's Strange, right?" Clint said. "I don't recognise the other guy, but—"
"Yes! It's Strange! And Wong!" I cried excitedly. "He must've gotten your message!"
"That's what I was trying to tell you," Vi said, in a curiously subdued voice. "They're here. The cavalry."
Strange and Wong gestured as one, moving their hands in complex, dancing patterns, and lines of red fire shot from their fingers to wrap tightly around the Arachnid's legs. They spread out and pulled, and the spiderbot collapsed to the floor with a resounding crash as its legs splayed out from under it. It bellowed again, but this time it sounded distinctly terrified.
"Critical alert! Catastrophic resonance event in T-minus twenty seconds!"
"And not before time, I'm gonna say," Clint said, and settled down to take the shot. "Top of the abdomen, right? Here goes nothin'."
"Critical alert! Catastrophic resonance event in T-minus ten…nine…eight…"
Clint took a long, deep breath, and relaxed. His expression turned strangely blank, almost tranquil, and his hand slipped around the trigger. The world suddenly went very still, as if it was waiting to see what happened next…
"...seven…six…"
…and as he exhaled he squeezed. The rifle went off with a deafening report, and a fraction of a second later something sparked brilliantly off the Arachnid's abdomen. I held my breath—
"Direct hit," Inky reported, and then a moment later, "Confirmed breach of Arachnid armour layer."
—and the sound of the Judas bullet exploding could be heard, even five storeys up. A spray of silvery dust erupted from the Arachnid, and suddenly it was thrashing and convulsing wildly, stretching the sorcerer's snares to their very limit. The tail whipped up and slammed into the floor with shocking force, spraying sod in all directions, and I saw Wong scramble backwards as it whipped past his face, missing him by inches.
"—collector confirmed destroyed." Inky reported. "Reactors now draining normally. Risk of catastrophic resonance falling…"
The Arachnid continued to jerk, its legs twitching and flexing spasmodically, but with each passing moment the twitches grew weaker and weaker until, with a final plaintive cry, the spiderbot simply shuddered and collapsed, unmoving, to the ground. Thera stepped forward, his body language wary and suspicious, but after a moment he looked up, waved, and gave us a thumbs-up.
"The Arachnid has been disabled," Inky stated clinically. "Operation complete."
I sighed heavily, and sank to my knees as the adrenaline flooded out of my body. That was it, then. The Arachnid was destroyed, Pexley was dead, and Blacknest was finished. Our family — our children — were safe, and Vi's nightmarish painting was just that; a bad dream. We'd won…so why didn't it feel like it? After everything that had happened, I should've felt jubilant, relieved, even ecstatic, right? Instead, I just felt…numb. Completely and totally numb. In the silence, Clint rolled over and looked up at me with a big, broad smile. I tried to return it as best I could, but simply couldn't muster up the willpower.
"You were amazing, hon. As good as any Avenger," he said, quite sincerely.
"C'mon," I said, flatly.
"I mean it! We couldn't have done it without you."
"If I was amazing, we were all amazing," I pointed out. "It's like Inky said; we all had a part to play, and we did."
"Even Strange, apparently," Clint said. "Reckon we should go down and say hello?"
"I…" I thought about this for a moment. "Give me five minutes, and then—"
"—hold that thought, Laura." Vi nodded across the room. A flame had appeared in midair, and spat out orange sparks as it slowly irised open. "Something tells me that Strange isn't a 'wait five minutes' kind of guy."
"Yeah, no kidding," Clint said. The portal opened wide, and sure enough Strange stood on the other side. He was supporting Thera, at least to the best of his abilities, and as he helped the clearly-exhausted mystic through the portal his gaze met Vi's. The air crackled dangerously.
"I believe this one belongs to you," Strange said curtly.
"Yes, he does," she said, in equally clipped tones. "Do you want to hand him over? Should I be signing for him?"
"I think we can forgo the formalities this time, Viola," Strange stepped forward, and the portal swirled shut behind him. "I should say, I was…surprised to get a call from Nick Fury, stating that you needed my help, but here I am. It never occurred to me that that 'help' might have involved fighting a giant scorpion."
"Spider," Thera said wearily, flopping down on a chair. Vi quickly crossed the room to his side, taking his hand in hers. "We called it the Arachnid."
"Be that as it may, I was planning on tracking you all down anyway," said Strange. "There were a few things that I'm trying to clear up. Answers to mysteries…conundrums, and a certain contract? I was hoping that 'Ronin' would be able to assist me."
"Me?" Vi looked up sharply. Strange smiled and shook his head.
"No, not you," he said, and I felt a sudden jolt as he looked Clint straight in the eye. "You. The real Ronin."