Chapter12:
"Why hello—"
A red orb lanced toward me. I jumped backward into the hall with lightning reflexes, but I was a second too slow. A shiver ran down my spine as my instincts screamed.
BOOM!
Heat and force slammed into me like a tidal wave. Red light filled my vision, and the taste of metal hit my tongue.
I hit the ground hard, wheezing. "Shit." My face stung, my ribs groaned, and my body protested the not-so-joyful compress. Fortunately, nothing felt broken—just gloriously painful.
Instinct flared. I rolled, finding cover against the corridor wall as two more explosive orbs detonated near the entrance, filling the air with smoke and sparks.
"Rude," I muttered, catching my breath.
More explosives peppered the doorway. Fuck this was a terrible place to fight—tight walls, no room to maneuver. Of all the rooms they could've picked, it had to be the one where a grenade-handed mutant had the advantage.
I spotted another door across the hall. Maybe I could loop around—no, that would take too long.
Same problem, different hallway.
The explosions stopped for a beat. Then a man's voice echoed through the room.
"Subject 522! We know you are there. Submit yourself. We are magnanimous. We offer you a place in the new world order. The heads have seen your abilities and are willing to offer—"
I scoffed. Half-baked villain speech, check. Did they really think I was stupid enough to agree?
"And what's this new world order?" I called back, stalling. "Because all I remember is you guys drugging me."
"Do not play coy. You need not know us. But we are the masters of mankind—"
I tuned him out. Villain monologue mode engaged. I tore open a silver ticket instead.
[Relic Gold]
Uncommon Item
A gold coin that is perceived as something of incredible value by anyone who sees it, while having no real worth. You can trade it for a real artifact, and the one you give it to will still think it's a fair deal.
A coin materialized in my hand—small, blank, and unassuming, half the size of my pinkie. It looked cheap, the kind you'd find in a child's toy set.
My hand trembled anyway. Rationally, I knew it was the relic's effect, but it still felt like I was holding a million bucks.
"Surrender!" the Hydra mook barked, snapping me out of it.
I looked at the coin. Got a stupid idea.
"Wait, I've come to bargain," I said, stepping into view with my lightsaber off. My sheer charisma—obviously—stunned the squad into silence. Definitely not the shiny coin in my hand.
The squad froze. Heads turned toward me, eyes locked on the relic. Even through helmets, I could feel the greed radiating off them.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I announced, holding up the coin, "behold a very valuable piece. I'm willing to negotiate with the great Hydra and offer this—"
The mooks started whispering. Good. If I could distract them, that'd be great. Honestly, I didn't even want to kill the mutant, not if she was being press-ganged or mind-controlled to work with Hydra.
The mutant girl leaned forward, gaze fixed.
Then a voice cut through the air, ugly, pompous, and dripping with arrogant venom.
"ENOUGH! Untermensch! Hand me the coin, and I will grant you the honor of being an honorary Aryan despite your filthy origins."
There was a record scratch in my head. Oh. Oh. She's just a Nazi.
"Catch."
The coin flew. The mutant lunged for it, snatching it midair. The glow in her palms flickered and died as she cradled it like treasure.
I didn't hesitate. The world compressed, time slowed as the very air seemed to crackle with lightning.
"Eighth Form: Nazi punch!"
My fist hit her helmet with a sound that didn't belong in physics textbooks. Bone and metal cracked together. The mutant flew backward, limbs limp, a puppet with its strings cut.
[Feat Achieved! Fuck up a Nazi]
[1 Bronze Ticket]
"Shoot him!" someone shouted.
Rifles rose. My lightsaber hissed to life, the hum cutting through the air.
"San no kata: Shūbun Seirai,"
Then I moved. Fast. The room filled with motion, light, and the clean, efficient end of violence. Helmets hit the ground before the screams could start.
When the smoke cleared, they were all down. My lightsaber dimmed. My knuckles still tingled from the punch.
All the mooks hit the ground cold.
I laughed at the title of the feat and tore the ticket in half.
[Scenic Wind]
Trash Trait
The scenic wind favors you, making your clothes and hair flutter majestically, even in impossible weather conditions and indoors whenever it is opportune.
"Wow. Peak useless," I muttered.
A faint breeze stirred anyway, ruffling my jacket just enough to look cinematic. It would've been great if I weren't standing in a half-destroyed hallway full of corpses.
"Great. I'm a walking shampoo commercial."
The metal door that had been rattling finally creaked open.
"Wait! Don't kill me!"
The man who stepped out looked like he'd lost a fight with a fashion catalog—gold-trimmed vest, red silk scarf, patchwork coat glittering under emergency lights. Rings on every finger, hair slicked back like it was held there by sheer ego.
"...You Adler?"
He blinked, clutching a briefcase. "Yes, yes, I'm Adler! The Adler! Master of forgery, genius of falsification, humble servant of art and commerce! Please don't shoot!"
"Relax," I said, waving a hand. "I'm not one of the mercs trying to kill you. I'm here to move you. Zemo sent me."
His eyes darted to the corpses, then back to me—and the faintly fluttering ends of my coat. "You—are you using a fan?"
I looked down. The jacket was still flowing dramatically like I was posing for a movie poster.
"No fan," I bullshitted. "Just… super advanced clothing tech."
Adler tilted his head. "Really?"
"Yeah. Microscopic fans," I said, gesturing vaguely as the breeze helped me sell it. "Very tactical."
His eyes lit up. "Where did you buy that!?"
"Do you really want to talk about this right now?" I asked flatly.
He blinked. "Right. So we're… leaving?"
"Yeah. Pack up your shiny junk."
He rushed back inside, throwing trinkets and papers into a briefcase. "Those lunatics—do you have any idea how many clients I'm going to lose—"
"They're not big on subtlety," I said, scanning the hall. "Thirty seconds. Move."
"What about the safe? Half my fortune—"
A guttural growl cut him off.
I turned. The mutant girl stood again, blood smeared across her chin, a pulsing red orb growing between her hands. Her eyes burned with fanatic rage.
"Purify, purify, and leave the world supreme race."
The very angry-looking explosive grew larger and larger, red light swallowing her frame.
Adler paled. "Oh dear."
I grabbed him by the collar before he could faint and sprinted down the corridor. The air crackled as I pushed Thunder Breathing to its limit, my coat flaring perfectly behind me as the wind chased us like an anime cliché brought to life.
Zemo watched from cover, a flicker of disbelief tugging at his usually composed expression.
He'd already known his father had introduced him to some truly insane people—seeing a man teleport behind you tended to drive that point home. But this girl? She hammered the insanity in even further.
For all intents and purposes, she tore a metal door straight off its hinges and hurled it across the compound like a discus. It crashed into another Hydra encampment mid-fire, scattering the gunmen like bowling pins.
"Jesus Christ," one of his soldiers muttered. "That thing's got to weigh half a ton."
"Focus," Zemo snapped, sharper than intended. His men stiffened, eyes snapping forward. At least they had the discipline not to stare too long.
Still, his mind was already running damage control. This whole engagement was a disaster. The strike had been too precise—someone had leaked information, enough to let Hydra route them with surgical efficiency. He'd have to scrub this clean, root out the mole, and make sure not a single word of what he was witnessing escaped this base.
A fresh crash echoed through the outpost. Zemo turned just in time to see the same young woman burst through a stone wall like it was drywall.
He exhaled through his nose. It's not like it could get any worse than this.
As if destiny wished to spite him, a thunderous explosion rippled deeper within the outpost—a surge of red fire rising over the skyline. The shockwave hit seconds later, rattling the metal crates around him.
Zemo dragged a hand down his face, the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind his eyes.