From the thick smoke, a dark silhouette emerged — calm, composed, and unscathed. Between the figure's fingers gleamed four arrows — the very same ones Hawkeye had just fired.
Black Panther stepped forward, the faint trail of smoke rising from his suit the only sign that the explosion had even touched him.
His vibranium armor had absorbed the full brunt of Hawkeye's blast. After all, this was no ordinary combat suit — it was woven entirely from vibranium, the same near-indestructible metal that made up Captain America's shield. Capable of dispersing kinetic energy and even reflecting laser fire, it was one of the most powerful defensive materials in the Marvel Universe.
A divine artifact in armor form.
With the same silent ferocity of a jungle predator, Black Panther lunged again, his claws glinting as he closed in. This time, Hawkeye had no chance to draw his bow — he was forced into close-quarters combat.
Realizing that conventional arrows wouldn't break through that impossible defense, Hawkeye quickly abandoned his bow's staff mode and grabbed an arrow directly from his quiver. Holding it like a dagger, he thrust toward Black Panther's torso.
Usually, T'Challa would have ignored such an attack — his armor could shrug off bullets and explosions alike. But after witnessing the bizarre variety of Hawkeye's arrows, he wasn't about to take chances. He dodged swiftly.
"Zzzzz!"
A sharp hiss followed. Acrid smoke poured from the wall where the arrow had struck, corroding the metal surface in seconds until molten residue dripped to the floor.
Acid arrow.
Marcus, observing through the psychic link, smirked. "Interesting. Let's see if even vibranium can withstand that."
T'Challa glanced briefly at the sizzling damage on the wall, then turned back to Hawkeye. He didn't know what kind of "science" powered these weapons — only that he couldn't afford to underestimate them.
In the clash of Marvel's greatest technologies, victory often came down to whose "science" was more absurd.
Using the momentary distraction to his advantage, Hawkeye thrust again. This time, the arrow struck the wall instead of his opponent — and strangely, no acid erupted.
T'Challa took no notice, focusing entirely on his assault. He exhaled, shifted his stance, and sprang upward — flipping midair before delivering three rapid kicks in succession.
The speed and precision were almost superhuman, his legs blurring like shadows.
"Wh–!"
The first kick slammed into Hawkeye's chest, the second struck his shoulder, and the third crashed into his ribs. The final impact sent him sprawling backward, skidding across the polished floor before collapsing on his back.
But years of training — and the enhanced resilience of his mutated body — kept him conscious. Before Black Panther could follow up, Hawkeye rolled backward and loosed another arrow from a crouched position, aiming straight for his opponent's heart.
T'Challa was ready. His hand lashed out, knocking the arrow aside effortlessly. The shaft spun off and embedded itself in the wall to his right.
"Not bad," Hawkeye muttered dryly, even managing a smirk.
T'Challa said nothing. He wasn't here to trade words — there were still Hydra agents to root out. He surged forward again, claws flashing in a relentless storm of slashes.
Hawkeye's reinforced tactical vest was tough, but not that tough. Against vibranium claws, it shredded like paper.
"Looks like this fight's over," Marcus mused from afar, watching through the mental link. "Hawkeye's good — but Black Panther's on another level."
Still, T'Challa's restraint was obvious. Despite overwhelming advantage, he avoided lethal strikes.
That same noble hero's morality Marcus found so irritating — yet so exploitable.
Desperate, Hawkeye switched his bow back to staff mode and blocked a series of blows. His quiver was nearly empty — he had only one acid arrow left, and that wasn't likely to pierce vibranium either.
Sensing weakness, T'Challa pressed the attack harder, his movements a blur of precision and power.
Then, in a sudden opening, Hawkeye lunged forward, sidestepping and circling behind him. He raised his staff and swung down hard at T'Challa's head — but the King of Wakanda reacted faster.
With a sharp twist, T'Challa turned and caught the staff in one hand. His claws dug into the weapon's frame.
Clang!
The sound was sharp, metallic — and final.
Vibranium sliced through the reinforced compound of Hawkeye's bow. Strings snapped. The limbs splintered. Within seconds, his most trusted weapon was reduced to two broken halves.
For a brief instant, Hawkeye froze — the disbelief in his eyes giving way to grim resignation.
T'Challa took the opportunity and delivered a heavy kick to his abdomen, sending him sprawling to the ground once more.
"You should rest," Black Panther said evenly, his voice calm — almost merciful. He leapt forward, claws poised for the finishing strike.
But Hawkeye's expression remained eerily calm.
"No," he said softly. "You should."
At that very moment, the two arrows embedded in opposite walls began to shift. Panels along their shafts slid open, revealing hidden mechanisms that sparked and crackled with power.
In the blink of an eye, an electric current surged between them — forming a blinding blue energy net that snapped into place around Black Panther.
CRACKLE—ZZZTTTT!
Electricity surged violently through the corridor, enveloping T'Challa's entire body. Arcs of lightning danced across his armor, crawling over every line of the vibranium weave.
Vibranium could absorb kinetic force — but it wasn't insulated. In fact, its conductive nature only made the shock worse.
T'Challa roared, forcing his body forward, trying to reach Hawkeye. His claws stretched out, just centimeters from his target — but the electric field froze his muscles mid-motion.
No matter how much he struggled, he couldn't move an inch closer.
He was trapped — a predator in his own cage, strength useless against the snare that bound him.
Marcus chuckled softly through the psychic link. "That's what happens when you underestimate the man with the trick arrows."
Black Panther had let his guard down after destroying Hawkeye's bow, assuming victory was his. He hadn't realized the entire fight — every retreat, every miss — had been nothing more than bait.
For all his skill, Hawkeye's greatest weapon was never his aim — it was his inventiveness.
Still, as Marcus quickly realized, there was a problem.
While the electric net held T'Challa immobilized, Hawkeye had no means to finish the job.
Not even acid arrows could melt vibranium, and his remaining arsenal — thermal arrows, cryo-arrows, EMPs — would do little more than irritate the King of Wakanda.
Hawkeye exhaled slowly, lowering his bow.
"Guess this makes us even," he muttered.
Marcus sighed through the link. "A fortress of metal… and not a single way to crack it. How frustrating."
T'Challa stood bound in lightning, motionless but undefeated — a living wall, indestructible and proud.
Hawkeye watched him, his expression unreadable.
It was a stalemate — and there was nothing either could do about it.
____
T/N:
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