Building Superheroes at Marvel

The wind roared, and the thunder wailed.

Light rain fell incessantly from the sky, soaking the ground.

The sound of wind rustling through the leaves in the forest was accompanied by footsteps sinking into the wet soil, creating a squelching noise.

"Natasha, we'll rush in from the north gate later. Remember to eliminate anyone you see as quickly and quietly as possible," Barton instructed as they prepared to infiltrate the compound. He was determined to avoid being overwhelmed by an enemy force dozens of times their size.

The primary issue was the rate of fire. The technology at this stage wasn't as advanced as it would become later, and the production speed of quivers was painfully slow. Achieving the rapid-fire capability seen in later stages would require either a team dedicated to enhancing and upgrading the quivers or relying on ordinary arrows.

"Don't worry," Natasha replied calmly. She drew a dagger from her waist and swiftly moved to a blind spot by the wall, ensuring she wouldn't be detected.

Upon reaching the gate, she noticed a sophisticated combination lock and sighed. She turned and signaled to Barton, who was perched in a tree.

"Looks like we need some help," she whispered.

Barton nodded, drawing an arrow with a blue-tipped head. This specialized arrow could release a powerful electrical surge upon impact, capable of disabling the combination lock instantly. He notched the arrow, took aim, and fired.

The arrow flew dozens of meters and struck the lock with precision.

*Click.* The door swung open.

"Nice job," Natasha thought to herself before darting inside. Barton waited a moment to ensure no alarms were triggered, then followed her in.

Inside the building, they were immediately met with the presence of two hidden surveillance cameras. Fortunately, the Red Queen, an advanced AI, had already disabled them. However, Natasha and Barton failed to notice the cameras concealed within the walls, which could have exposed their presence entirely.

"According to Director Fury's intel, we need to head to the B2 area via the stairs to reach the trading zone," Barton said, checking the information on his wrist guard. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s undercover agents had already cleared the path ahead.

They were currently in the A1 area. To reach B2, they had to pass through a guarded station. This station was manned by over a dozen guards, working in shifts of four every four hours, with a five-minute gap between rotations.

"We'll move during the shift change," Natasha suggested, glancing at her watch. They had about ten minutes before the next rotation.

Barton, however, frowned. He wasn't convinced this was the best plan. Given the unpredictability of the situation, he believed it would be wiser to act swiftly and leave immediately after completing their objective.

"I think we should find another way in. This place feels... off," Barton said, his instincts tingling with unease. From the moment they entered, a sense of foreboding had settled over him.

Typically, such locations had stringent security measures, but so far, they had bypassed two lines of defense without encountering a single guard. The eerie silence made Barton, a seasoned black market operative, deeply suspicious.

Natasha, whose expertise lay in assassination and espionage, trusted Barton's judgment. "Alright, I'll follow your lead," she agreed.

However, one detail nagged at Natasha. Having lived through countless battles, she was acutely sensitive to the smell of blood. She detected a faint metallic tang in the air, though she dismissed it, reasoning that in a black market setting, violence was commonplace.

After agreeing to proceed cautiously, they followed the map on Barton's wrist guard toward the station connecting A1 to B2.

As they navigated a dimly lit corridor, the scene that greeted them was horrifying.

"Oh my God, what happened here?" Natasha gasped, covering her mouth to stifle her nausea. Her entire body broke out in goosebumps.

Barton, standing beside her, was equally shaken. His usually stoic demeanor shattered as he took in the gruesome sight.

The station was a small, security-room-like space. Inside, a round table was littered with playing cards and half-finished beers, evidence of interrupted leisure.

On the floor lay seven or eight bodies, their necks crushed and pressed against the wall. The corpses had been severed at the torso, the cuts clean and precise, as if made by a blade. Internal organs spilled out, creating a grotesque, multicolored mess that overwhelmed the senses.

The victims' faces were frozen in expressions of sheer terror, their features twisted as if molded together.

"What... what happened here?" Natasha managed to ask, her voice trembling. Despite her extensive combat experience, the brutality of the scene was staggering.

Barton, though equally disturbed, maintained his composure. "We need to report this to Director Fury immediately. Otherwise, we might not make it out alive," he said grimly.

The scene suggested two possibilities: either the guards had been betrayed and killed by their own, or the assailant was so powerful that the guards were slaughtered before they could react.

"Clint, come look at this!" Natasha called out, crouching beside one of the bodies. She had found a relatively intact corpse with a crucial clue.

Barton hurried over and examined the area Natasha indicated.

"This is..." he murmured.

A piece of the victim's skull remained attached to the body, unlike the others whose necks had been obliterated, leaving only bone. Most importantly, there was a distinct mark on the skull.

Barton took a deep breath and carefully examined the mark.

"This was done with sheer brute force," he concluded, his expression grave. The handprint left on the skull was unmistakable evidence of the assailant's overwhelming strength.

Natasha and Barton exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier confidence replaced by a palpable sense of dread. The mission had taken a dark turn, and they were now facing an enemy far more dangerous than they had anticipated.