The Lizard had found himself facing off against Crossbones and the Winter Soldier. The two Hydra veterans fought with ruthless efficiency — their movements precise, their reactions honed by years of combat experience. They ducked, weaved, and rolled past the Lizard's savage blows, narrowly avoiding his claws that could tear through steel. Occasionally, one of them managed to slip in a counterattack, landing a well-placed shot or strike — but it was all for nothing.
The creature's skin healed faster than they could damage it, the regenerative power granted by the Lizard serum sealing every wound in seconds. The fight was at a stalemate — but only because the pair had no weapon capable of inflicting lasting harm.
And elsewhere, four more of the so-called Cannon Fodder Squad were wreaking havoc — opponents no ordinary soldiers could possibly contain.
From above, Marcus dropped into the fray like a crimson comet, flanked by Thunder and Killian. They landed hard, the shockwave rippling across the flooded courtyard.
Thunder charged forward, twin tactical daggers flashing as he clashed with Doctor Octopus, whose four mechanical arms lashed at him like serpents. Sparks and steel filled the air as the two battled for control.
Killian, meanwhile, opened fire on the Green Goblin, his Death Ray tracing a blinding beam across the sky as the madman swooped and twisted on his glider, hurling bombs that exploded in bursts of emerald flame.
Marcus himself stepped forward to meet the oncoming juggernaut — literally.
Cain Marko, better known as Juggernaut, was already barreling toward him, muscles bulging like sculpted iron, eyes burning red with fury. Once set in motion, nothing on Earth could stop him. His powers — inherited from a demonic artifact — granted him near-absolute invulnerability. Not even Thor's hammer or Wolverine's adamantium claws could pierce his skin. He was a living battering ram, the embodiment of unstoppable force.
And now, all that force was aimed squarely at Marcus.
With a bellow that shook the air, Juggernaut lowered his head, his massive metal helmet glinting under the lightning as he charged. Each thunderous step cracked the floor, the ground trembling with every impact. Walls crumbled, debris scattered, and everything in his path was obliterated — like a tank plowing through a line of ants.
Marcus smirked coldly. "So you're not much of a thinking man, huh?"
Two jets of blood-red flame erupted from beneath his feet, propelling him upward like Iron Man's thrusters. He soared over the oncoming Juggernaut, braced his hand against the brute's head mid-leap, and flipped cleanly over him — landing gracefully on the floor behind.
The Juggernaut, unstoppable as ever, couldn't halt his own momentum.
He crashed straight into the reinforced alloy wall with a deafening BOOM.
The impact sent a tremor through the entire prison. Dust exploded into the air — and when it cleared, Marcus realized what Juggernaut had hit.
The wall wasn't just any wall. It was the reinforced door to General Ross's private panic room.
"Perfect," Marcus murmured with a dark smile.
The so-called "nuclear-proof" alloy had been designed to withstand missiles, yet Juggernaut's sheer kinetic force had dented it inward, leaving a crater-sized impact. The structure held — barely — but the once-impenetrable door was now warped and half-collapsed.
"Shame," Marcus sighed mockingly. "I was hoping to kill two birds with one charge."
Ross's bunker still held, but Juggernaut wasn't so lucky. His head and shoulders were wedged deep into the twisted metal door, his body flailing as he tried to wrench himself free.
Marcus drew his adamantium katana, the blade gleaming cold and perfect under the crimson light. He stepped forward, preparing to strike off the Juggernaut's exposed head.
Then — a flicker in the reflection of his blade.
Something moved behind him.
Marcus twisted instantly, his instincts razor-sharp. The sword slashed through the air in a crimson arc — and bisected the figure creeping up from behind.
But the strike felt wrong. There was no resistance, no blood — only the sensation of cutting through loose, shifting matter.
Like slicing through a sandbag.
Marcus turned — and sure enough, the figure dissolved into a cascade of falling grit.
Sandman.
The infamous villain from Spider-Man's world — a man transformed into living sand after a failed molecular experiment.
Marcus narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't be afraid of a nano-bomb, should you?"
The question hit its mark. Sandman hesitated mid-attack, his expression hardening. "I'm not afraid," he said flatly. "But this… this isn't the body I want. I need to be cured."
"Cured?" Marcus let out a derisive chuckle. "Don't make me laugh."
Then, without warning, he rolled backward — just as Juggernaut tore himself free and thundered forward again.
The massive brute plowed straight through where Marcus had been standing — and straight into Sandman.
The impact sent an explosion of grit into the air as the villain's body burst apart into a storm of swirling dust.
Marcus straightened, his crimson eyes gleaming. "Thanks for the assist."
As the sandstorm began to reform nearby, he tightened his grip on the katana and swung at the charging Juggernaut.
The blade struck with a metallic clang that nearly ripped the weapon from his hands. The recoil numbed his arms, but Juggernaut didn't even flinch — the adamantium edge had barely scratched him.
"Impressive," Marcus muttered, stepping back, his eyes narrowing. "Even adamantium can't pierce you, huh?"
Around him, the air shimmered as Sandman's body slowly reassembled, his hulking form solidifying once more. Now, the two titans stood side by side — Juggernaut to Marcus's left, Sandman to his right. Their massive silhouettes loomed in the crimson haze, ready to crush him from both sides.
Marcus exhaled softly. "Looks like this'll take a bit more effort."
He reached up, grasped the edge of his katana's blade — and dragged his palm along it.
A deep, clean slice.
Blood spilled freely, coating the sword's silver sheen in a layer of liquid red. The color spread, pulsing like something alive.
The weapon began to glow.
Bloodflame Technique — Scorching Blade.
The crimson fire erupted along the length of the blade, its heat radiating outward in waves. The once-silver steel now blazed with molten fury, painting the world in shades of scarlet.
The temperature spiked instantly. The air warped. The steel floor beneath his boots began to soften, and the walls shimmered under the heat distortion.
The adamantium — the only metal on Earth capable of withstanding such temperatures — sang softly under the flame's touch.
Marcus raised the weapon, its red light reflecting in his eyes.
"This," he said, voice low and dangerous, "isn't just a blade anymore."