"Matt, be safe out there. Ask for help when you need one." Liam said as Matt got out of the car. Only this time, he didn't use the stick to get out. Happy had been hearing the whole conversation and had seen a lot of strange things around Tony in just a year or so.
Now, he couldn't even recognize the world he was living in. An institution of sorcerers? Monsters? Mutants from another world? And now a perfectly blind man who is faking it?
"I don't know what you do Liam but I hope whatever you do, is for the better of mankind." Matt said. Liam just smiled at him. Better for mankind? That's a very tall order because the meaning of mankind varies from people to people and both of their descriptions of mankind were entirely different, though they do share some common goals and that was also the reason why Liam had given Matt a handout.
Loki was still out there, so the New York war should still be on his agenda or at least one forms of the war. And thus it would be better if some more heroes to be out there saving people. Besides Daredevil was quite a good street hero. Might not be at the level of Spiderman, but he was quite decent.
In fact, Daredevil was even a temporary God at one point when he visited hell to save Foggy.
-----
The warm wind of the African coast carried the salty scent of the sea. The coast was filled with old damaged ships, never to ride the ocean again. In the distant, the waves lapped gently against the rocky shore.
Almost 200 meters out, a massive rusted oil tanker laid on the sandy coast. Time and salt had eaten away at its steel frame, and vines had begun to creep over parts of it where nature dared to reclaim.
"I don't like this place," Vesemir grunted. "It smells like old blood and some kind of oil."
"You sure this is the right place?" Geralt asked Liam, who held Elie on his arms. "You promised us better gear for the war. What I see is a floating pile of rust."
"Floating pile of rust, yes," Liam replied with a sly grin. "But inside that floating pile of rust? The greatest gear we can acquire at this time."
"You're serious?" Geralt asked.
"Dead serious."
"So what are we talking about? Swords? Armor?" Ciri was intrigued.
"The stuff is called Vibranium. It is one of the greatest metal known to mankind. Steve's Shield is made of that stuff and you have seen how strong it is." Liam said. Steve's shield made the eyes of Geralt and Vesemir twinkle.
They had witnessed how powerful that shield was and in fact while in Kaer Morhen, they had tried their swords on that shield and they couldn't even deliver a scratch on it.
"And it just so happens to be inside that decrepit thing?" Triss asked.
"Of course not, there are men inside with guns, and loads of weapons that could kill any normal human. So if you want to snatch the metal we came here for, you will have to probably kill or incapacitate." Liam said.
"Umm.. Isn't it illegal to kill humans?" Keira asked.
"It is. But they are the scum of the earth and we are way past human jurisdiction here." Liam assured. This made Geralt and others, which meant they could let loose.
The sun hovered low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and orange. Fenrir stood at the edge of the beach, sniffing the air, then growled low in his throat.
"They know we're coming," Yennefer said calmly, adjusting her gloves.
"Good," Vesemir grunted, drawing his steel sword. "I hate surprises."
As they approached the massive rusted hull of the tanker, the scent of metal and oil intensified. Hidden behind sheets of corroded steel and cracked hatches were the mercenaries—armed and prepared.
"Ulysses Klaue's men," Liam said behind them, holding Elie securely in his arms. "Black market war dogs. If they start shooting, don't hold back."
He stayed on the edge of the combat zone, a passive observer with no intention of lifting a finger unless things got dire. The others knew the drill. This was their fight.
A shot rang out. A warning. Then chaos erupted.
Bullets flew from the elevated platform welded onto the upper deck of the tanker. The mercenaries took defensive positions and had started shooting. Ciri vanished in a blur. Her laughter echoed before she reappeared behind two guards, blade slicing through air. One went down before he knew what hit him; the other fired wildly before she kicked the weapon from his hands and slammed him unconscious against a steel wall.
Geralt charged head-on, sword raised. Bullets ricocheted off his quen shield, sparks flaring in the dim light. He reached a cluster of three men and dropped them with brutal precision—slashes, pommel strikes, and a final igni blast that sent the last man tumbling over the side of the ship into the sand.
Vesemir followed close behind, he hurled an axii sign that stunned a group of mercs, then took them down with heavy-handed strikes that echoed against the metal deck.
Keira raised her hands, and purple sigils lit up the air around her. A bolt of kinetic magic slammed into a group on the starboard side, sending them flying. Another wave of her hand conjured blinding light, forcing mercenaries to drop their weapons and clutch their faces in pain. Of course she did all of this while chanting the spells in Elven language.
Meanwhile, Triss chanted under her breath. A wall of fire burst forth in a line across the gangway, cutting off reinforcements from below deck. Screams echoed as flames licked across crates and sent men fleeing. One attempted to shoot her from a distance, but Triss raised her hand, catching the bullet mid-air with a telekinetic pulse before sending it flying back at its owner.