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***
-Please, please don't! Please forgive me, please forgive me!
-No.
A clubbing blow to the chin shatters the bastard's lower jaw, sending the guy into a knockout and putting him on permanent supervised treatment. I reckon with injuries like that, he'll only be able to eat through a feeding tube for the rest of his life.
"At least he's alive, unlike the others."
There were bodies all around me. Shitheads from the Golden Sky Gang, their customers, and representatives of their roof, or rather, suckers from Kingpin, who organised order and discipline here.
In short, it was full of people - and a seemingly ordinary warehouse in the industrial district turned into a real maze with a mixture of military base. Although, what a base. Gangsters, junkies and thugs. These guys have absolutely no notions of discipline.
Shell casings rang under my feet, and my eyes kept stumbling over the bloody stains that covered the floor and walls.
The stupid imbeciles had opened fire as soon as they discovered the first loss of their comrades. Most of the stoned "golden ones" pierced any obstacles with bullets, killing their comrades and Fisk's fighters. The same ones started shooting back...
And now I was standing in the middle of this slaughterhouse, breathing in the vile scent of blood and guts. I had my mobile phone in my hand with Stacy's number already dialled, but I had no idea how to explain the situation.
Almost fifty dead bodies. There was an aroma of gunpowder in the air, mingling with the waste from the dead bodies. It seemed to settle in my nostrils, preventing me from thinking straight.
"Good thing I didn't take Parker today...".
I had a similar thought. To show him the danger and difficulty of working as a hero, on the takeoff, knocking down the hubris, making him take things more seriously, but my gut told me that it's too early to take my spider friend out into the field. So now I'm alone. Covered in dirt and blood, I tread on the red floor, leaving sparse footprints on the islands of cleanliness.
All around me is devastation and the walls are gaping holes, showing an identical pattern everywhere. The phone announced the warehouse with an old tune, it seems George already has something to say.
-Allo.-We've been informed that there's been a shooting in the industrial zone?! -Ah!
-It's already over. We're gonna need medics. A lot of them. A lot.
Turning one of the bodies over with my foot, I counted at least eight bullets in it, coming from the other side of the cardboard wall.
-Shit. Okay, I got it. We'll be there in eight minutes. Stand down.
-Yeah.
I hang up the phone without looking, continue to look at the face of one of the thugs. The bullet pierced his cheek, penetrating his mouth and shattering his teeth. A gruesome wound that didn't bring him a quick death.
His gaze slid over the squat Italian's body, taking note of details and other little things that might come in handy in the future.
The nature of the wounds, the angle of the bullets, the abundance of blood and what colour it was. So many factors...
There's a thick, pungent saliva starting to build up in my mouth. I don't want to swallow it. It tastes so nasty. It's like it's filled with all the death and murder that's happened in just a couple of minutes.
-Stupid bastards.
A quiet voice distracted me from my thoughts. As I walked around the warehouse, I didn't realise that I'd wandered into the back of the building, where the voice of one of the survivors of the gunfight was coming from.
Lying on the floor, clutching his arm and leg wounds, some young guy in a tight suit was swearing at everyone from himself to Fisk.
There were a few interesting devices lying nearby, but he wasn't interested in them, as blood continued to gush from his leg, drenching his rubber gloves and making them slip.
Panic and fear read in open letters on the guy's face. He was barely older than I was, and hardly ever had been in this kind of mess.
"I doubt the bandits themselves have ever been in anything like this."
I stroked the handle of the stun gun in my pocket and stepped boldly out of the shadows, hovering over the groaning kid.
-That's it. And I thought I was the only survivor! Hurry, help me! Я...
His voice trails off as I leave my cosy refuge in the shadows. The remnants of light in the warehouse barely provide enough for a normal person to see me, but my new acquaintance only takes one look. His eyes widen in horror, and unintelligible mooing begins to come out of his mouth as the kid crawls backwards, trying to get to what are apparently his inventions.
He keeps falling, sliding on his own blood. With every metre I pass, his face pales more and more, but it's unclear to me what it's from... Fear or blood loss.
-I'd advise you to keep your head down. -Fuck you!
-Fuck you! -I know who you are," he gasped and licked his drying lips repeatedly, and fell on his side, just a few metres away from his toys, "I know... Who are you-
-I'll dress your wounds, but you've lost so much blood," I stood beside him and looked at his path, clearly outlined by the blood that had lavished the area, "I'm afraid you won't live until help arrives.
-No," he tried to reach for his rucksack again, almost crying. Why did I think it belonged to him? The backpack, as well as its owner, were the only ones who could boast of a retarded, bright, garish colour in the midst of a sea of corpses in jackets and leather jackets, - this is my first case.... I can't die like this... No, not like this.
-What's your name?
I didn't feel sorry for him. Despite his ridiculous outfit, he was in the middle of a warehouse full of drugs, guns and fighters. I doubt his dad was having a "Bring Your Son to Work" day or anything like that. The kid was clearly of interest to the Kingpin captains and wouldn't just end up here.
"First day... Jerk. You could have lived a normal life."
-Pete, everyone calls me Pete," his voice grew quieter with each successive word. You could see how hard it was for him to breathe and how much less frequently his chest rose, from which a tired wheeze sounded, -Pete Sticky Tube...
The kid caught my stupor even through the mask. He shook his head toward the backpack and reached for it one last time, then froze in one pose, slowly losing the light in his eyes.
-Farewell, Pete-. Sticky Tube," I sighed tiredly, taking off my hat, clutching it to my chest for a moment before bringing it back on, "even just saying it out loud can destroy any touching moment.
Covering the boy's eyes so that his wan and sad gaze doesn't stare back at me, I grab the young inventor's backpack, along with some sort of water pistol. The ridiculous-looking weapon was a little unsettling, and logic told me that everything here wasn't as simple as it seemed.
Firing the child's toy into the wall, I almost laughed out loud. A huge slimy stain, extremely similar to Parker's shenanigans, spread on the wall, quickly solidifying to form a crust.
-And you really weren't that easy, Mr Sticky Tube-.
The first police sirens sounded outside, which meant it was time for me to get out of here. Hanging my rucksack on my back, I cast one last glance at the dead kid's body, lifting my hat.
***
-So the hull's almost back together? -Yeah.
-Yah, yah. It's only a matter of time before we can get back to work. Ah, it's a shame Herman got involved in all this.Fixing the earpiece, I don't answer Otto's last comment, continuing to play quietly, though it's hard to lie to myself.... For at the mention of my mate's name, my hands shook for a moment, almost leading to the death of my character.
-And you didn't work at all before that, Doc? -Well, why not?
-Well, why not? -I've done a lot of useful things, like yesterday--
Octavius, hurt by the implication of idleness, quickly overwhelmed me with a lot of terms, names and explanations. His work, as it turned out, did not stagnate for a moment, and even a sharp attachment to games could not lead the born inventor away from the path of progress.
True, some references to a new face in his entourage began to confuse me.
-An incredible girl! Smart, capable, and most importantly, not chatty. And that, Shawn, I'll tell you, is a very important quality in a woman. Like my father taught me, she should know when to talk.
-Oh, doc. Every time I think I've reached my limit, you bring a little happiness back into my life.
-М? What are you talking about, mein Freund?
-I don't know. Just happy for you, Professor. Tell me, does she go to church?
-Of course! I tell you, she's a wonderful girl! She even quotes some of the scriptures.
-She's a good cook too, isn't she? -Yeah.
-Yes, she brings me her homemade handicrafts, -sniffing his lips, Otto was pouring out a whole mountain of positive emotions, -she brought me a taste of real Bratwurst! True bliss, Sean. If you're looking for a wife, make sure she's good at your favourite dishes.
-"Of course, sir," I laughed, "may I ask you one more question about this lovely assistant?
-Just one, Shawn. I'm beginning to suspect that you're very interested in my Fraulein Clara.
-Ha-ha, you say that too, Doc, I'm just curious. -Ha-ha. She loves children too, doesn't she?
-She loves them! I'd say it's one of her life goals. A big, happy family. A real dream, not a woman!
-Oh, Professor. I feel like you're going to get caught.
-Don't call me that outside the university. I get enough of that from the students," Otto laughed at my words and went back to the game, and I thought he had ignored the second part of my words. I don't really mind, Sean. That would be an extremely fortunate coincidence.
-"Then I'll keep my fingers crossed for you, sir. It's about time you got a woman to keep you from playing video games so much.
-Oh, mine year, Clara is absolutely not that kind of woman, mine frond. -Oh, mine year, Clara is absolutely not that kind of woman, mine frond.
-Then you're doubly lucky.
"Now you've got the man in the bag. Oh, my God, you've got the look, I'm going to die laughing."
***
The last ray of sunlight disappeared over the horizon, plunging the desert into darkness....
A bright flash.
A stream of purple and green rays ripped through the sky, clearing the sky, followed by a rumble of explosions.
A succession of flashes, like the Fourth of July, were visible for miles, attracting the attention of casual gawkers and law enforcement.
Tsking under his mask, Dr Doom intercepted his opponent's blow with his left hand. Burning through the limb, he ripped it away from his body with effort, finally immobilising this half-dead piece of meat that had caused so much trouble.
Bodies were scattered around, and small tongues of flame were devouring the remains of the expedition, burning and spreading the vile scent of burnt meat, enticing predators.
Scattered machinery, damaged equipment and hundreds of millions of dollars spent to organise such an event, without the supervision of the local authorities.
It's all gone.
-But it was worth it...
Straightening to his full height, Doom followed the kicking body. Without limbs, what had once been a human was now a pitiful sight. Bones sprouting through muscle and skin, deformed joints, blackened veins.
It was a gruesome creature that would easily make the cover of a popular horror film. The creature had lost its clothes during the fight, and was now gleaming bare-chested as the black slurry that had replaced the blood flowed from the fresh wounds.
Victor's eyes flashed dangerously and energy flowed around the creature, reading and transmitting all the secrets of this strange organism, every detail, every fragment, everything, down to the very last hair. He examined it right there in the middle of the desert, surrounded by corpses, breathing in the scents of death and carnage.
-Don't move," the creature, sensing the magic being worked on it, began to struggle, working its shoulders and pelvis to get to Doom. But the armour-clad foot came down on its chest, crushing the broken ribs inside..." he wondered.
Black spots began to spread around the site of the new injury, like leprosy, affecting areas that were still healthy, infecting and repairing them. A little bit at a time, barely a drop at a time, because the body should have died long ago, but even in such a situation he tried to fight to the last.
Dragging the usual metal fragment of a tent peg to his side, Victor mercilessly pierced his shoulder, pinning the creature to the ground.-I told you not to move," Doom moved closer and pressed the creature's head into the ground with his free hand, scrutinising the new wound, "it's healing, but the side effect.... Too dangerous.
With a frustrated grunt, Victor straightened up, standing to his full height, taking a new look at the scene of the massacre. Clutched in his right hand was the head of the finally dead creature. He was only one day late, but what a lot of trouble it had already caused. Soon this place would be compromised. S.H.I.E.L.D., the FBI, and Richards would find out he was here, and then operating in the territory would become much more problematic.
-Sadly, so many useful specialists are missing," another round of disgruntled clucking was interrupted by the sensation of someone else's attention, "hmmm? That's it...
The dead man's head crumbled to black ashes, leaving only the mask in Doom's hands, which began to melt like butter in the sun. The metal changed its shape and components, morphing into something new that caught the eye of the king and the mighty magician.
-So this is how you lured the old man into your clutches?
The mask remained silent. Its shape gradually changed until it was identical to the one Von Doom himself wore on his face.
Voices whispered in his head. They seduced with many promises, revealed secrets, offered more and more and more and more....
-I'm sorry," Victor squeezed the mask, deforming the familiar image, sending a pulse of power into his fingers, burning and putting the insolent artefact in its place, "I've met more dangerous creatures and more generous offers.
The gentle whisper was replaced by a scream of pain and agony, mixed with the furious howls and sobs of thousands of people, the mask tried to take the form that could seduce Victor, but his mind was closed and no matter how much the forces trapped inside the artefact, they could not break through its defences.
-Don't be afraid," Doom slid his thumb across the mask as it took on its most common and favourite form, reading the writing and signs carved into the edges, invisible to ordinary people.
Abruptly bringing the artefact up to his face, the house flashed flames in his eyes. A dark green light poured through the slits of his armour, and his eyes began to shine like two emeralds.
-For your insolence and self-confidence, I will open you up, take you to pieces, study your every secret! And then reassemble you into something new!
A wave of magic struck in all directions from the figure of the King of Latveria. Familiar and expensive crystals flew out from beneath his cloak, crumbling into the sand and fitting tightly around the willful find.
-You'll be obedient now," he said with a slight movement of his fingers, which were infused with a greenish light, and the mask again emitted muffled cries of pain, audible only to Victor, "or else you'll wish you'd taken his place!
With a final poke at the disfigured corpse with no arms, legs or head, von Doom elegantly adjusted his cloak, walking with a satisfied gait towards the surviving transport. Let the pilot and guards be dead and some of the equipment unrecoverable. He wasn't some rich sissy. He'll fix it, take the wheel himself, and fly it to the right place!
***
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