The wind howled across the rooftop, sharp and biting, howling so fiercely it felt like it could peel skin from flesh.
Marcus stood amid the storm, bloodied and burned, his back blackened by the heat of Hawkeye's earlier arrows. His clothes were in tatters, his breath ragged—but the archer across from him wasn't about to give him time to recover.
Another arrow screamed through the air, its cylindrical tip bursting open mid-flight, transforming into a massive electrified net that spread wide to ensnare him.
Marcus sneered. 'These heroes really do hate killing blows, don't they?'
With a flick of his arm, his metallic blade sliced clean through the net, shredding it into glittering fragments that scattered in the wind. He stepped forward, eyes narrowed in mock amusement.
"Why hold back, Hawkeye?" he taunted. "Still think I can be redeemed? Or are you hoping I'll tell you something useful before you finish me off?"
Hawkeye's reply was cold but steady. "Back in that supermarket… when you saved those people—none of that was real, was it?"
Marcus tilted his head, his grin turning razor-sharp. "You're right," he said, stretching out each word. "They were all my pawns. Every single one."
The words had barely left his lips before an arrow whizzed past his cheek, close enough to draw blood. Marcus twisted his body aside, the arrow grazing him by a hair's breadth.
Hawkeye had fired in anger—and even that fury carried lethal precision.
Marcus dove behind a vent unit, the metallic clang of arrows slamming into it echoing in his ears. But even he knew—no cover lasted long against Hawkeye Barton.
'Fifteen minutes until the chopper arrives,' Marcus thought grimly. 'Just need to buy time.'
"Persistent bastard," he muttered under his breath, scanning the rooftop for an opening. His eyes soon fell on a thick gas line running along the edge. A risky idea flashed through his mind—one that would hurt him as much as it would hurt his opponent.
"Let's see how you handle this."
Behind him, Hawkeye's voice cut through the wind. "You can't run forever."
Two arrows curved around on the breeze, spinning like silver hawks. Marcus ducked and rolled, narrowly dodging the deadly arc—but the movement forced him out of cover.
He retaliated instantly. Three razor-edged throwing blades—silver and gleaming—formed between his fingers. He hurled them in rapid succession.
They whistled through the air like falling stars.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Hawkeye barely moved. A single fluid motion of his bow deflected all three. The blades ricocheted harmlessly into the wall behind him.
Marcus's smirk didn't fade. That wasn't meant to kill—it was a distraction.
He sprinted toward the gas pipe, transforming his right arm into a gleaming blade and slashing it open. Gas hissed out in a rush, filling the air with the acrid smell of fuel.
Then he raised his left hand, flicking open a lighter—the same one he'd used to burn the forged documents.
"Goodbye, hero."
He tossed it.
BOOM!
Flames erupted in a thunderous explosion, swallowing Marcus whole. The firestorm consumed the rooftop, the roar of igniting gas drowning out the wind. From Hawkeye's perspective, Marcus vanished—no sound, no presence, no movement.
Then came the chain reaction. The explosion raced along the pipes, detonating in rapid succession. Each blast sent shockwaves tearing across the rooftop.
Hawkeye reacted instantly. His instincts—those near-superhuman reflexes—flared to life. He rolled forward, narrowly dodging the first blast. The next erupted behind him, fire licking at his back. With a leap, he cleared the final explosion, landing smoothly as the flames roared behind him.
He exhaled once, steady.
"Predictable," he murmured.
But before he could draw another arrow—
A dark shape burst from the inferno.
Marcus came charging out of the flames, his body charred and steaming, eyes glowing with feral intensity. The fire parted before the sheer force of his momentum.
A flash of silver filled Hawkeye's vision—a metallic fist, glinting in the firelight, racing toward his face.
The punch struck like thunder.
Hawkeye barely had time to raise his bow, catching the blow across the limbs of the weapon. The impact sent a deafening boom across the rooftop. The bow shuddered violently in his grip, the shock traveling through his arms and deep into his chest.
He was lifted off his feet, hurled backward like a ragdoll, and smashed into the rooftop wall, embedding into the concrete and leaving a crater-shaped dent.
Tenfold Iron Fist.
Marcus's secret weapon had landed true. Even without direct contact, the shockwave alone was devastating. Hawkeye's ribs screamed in protest, his breath caught in his lungs.
For the first time, the Avenger looked genuinely stunned.
[Remaining Bio-Energy: 10%]
Marcus staggered, his systems flashing warning after warning. The explosion and regeneration had cost him dearly—too much. There wasn't enough energy left for another "God Spear" strike.
But he didn't need one.
All he had to do was finish this with his fists.
He stepped forward—
And froze.
"What the—?"
He looked down. His feet wouldn't move. Two arrows had pierced the rooftop at his feet, their shafts glowing faintly. Thin metal rings had emerged from them, coiling upward like shackles, locking tightly around his ankles.
Trap arrows.
Of course.
'He planted them while I was hiding behind cover.'
Hawkeye had predicted this exact moment—the moment Marcus would try to close the distance for a killing blow. He'd been waiting for it.
Marcus grit his teeth, pulling against the bindings, but the reinforced coils refused to budge.
Across the rooftop, Hawkeye groaned, pushing himself out of the wall. His arms trembled slightly, his face pale, but he still managed to smirk.
"Not bad," he rasped. "But I've been doing this a long time, kid."
Even battered and bruised, he raised his bow, nocking another arrow. The faint tension of the string hummed through the wind.
Marcus could feel it—the calm before the strike.
He was out of energy, trapped in place, bleeding internally, and the distance between them was perfect for a final shot.
Hawkeye's aim never wavered.
Marcus met his gaze and forced a crooked grin. "So you think this means you've won?"
He began channeling what little bio-energy he had left into healing, sealing the worst of his wounds. His voice was defiant but trembling from exhaustion.
"You're not the only one who plans ahead."
Hawkeye snorted softly. "Is that so? Then come here and prove it—if you can."
And there they stood—two men, barely standing, both at the edge of collapse—trading words instead of arrows.
The storm raged around them, but neither moved.
Only their eyes locked—hunter and monster, soldier and deceiver—each waiting for the other to make the first, fatal mistake.
____
T/N:
Hello everyone! My Patreon is just $3 — a perfect opportunity to access 27+ advanced chapters and support the translation.
🔗 patreon.com/user?u=79514336
Or simply search Translator-Sama on Patreon