MARVEL'S BIG VILLAIN

Jason's mind worked like a supercomputer under pressure, calculating his next move with deadly precision.

Lying flat on the cold tile floor, he pressed his ear against it, listening for the rhythmic crunch of tactical boots outside the ice cream shop's shattered entrance.

The footsteps were drawing closer—too many to count, but at least a dozen armed men.

Squeak—

The door hinges whined as someone nudged it open.

Now.

Jason jerked up from behind the overturned counter, shouldering his M4A1 carbine with the efficiency of a seasoned SHIELD operative. The barrel flared as he squeezed the trigger, and the suppressed muzzle flash spat out death.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A trio of 5.56mm rounds ripped through the nearest mobster's torso. His body convulsed, then slammed back into the reinforced glass, leaving a bloody smear as he crumpled lifelessly to the floor.

Jason didn't relent. He pivoted slightly and continued suppressive fire.

The remaining thugs—mercenaries in the employ of Wilson Fisk—scrambled for cover, ducking behind kiosks and overturned tables.

Meanwhile, Jason's HUD-like interface flickered to life.

> [Ding!] Property destruction—10 Villain Points.

[Ding!] Eliminated two hostiles—200 Villain Points.

[Ding!] Level Up! You have reached Level 2. Attribute points +10.

[Progress: 150/2000]

Jason wasted no time. He distributed his points instantly:

> Strength: 33

Agility: 32 → 35

Endurance: 30

Intelligence: 28 → 35

A burning sensation surged through his nerves, like a combination of Venom's symbiote bonding and Tony Stark's Extremis virus rewriting his biology.

His brain felt like it had been jolted with an arc reactor's worth of raw knowledge. He could visualize bullet trajectories, recall the intricate recoil patterns of every firearm he had ever handled, and predict enemy movements with a cold, calculated precision that even Taskmaster would envy.

Then his limbs spasmed involuntarily. It wasn't a stroke—it was his agility getting recalibrated, like a machine upgrading its firmware.

Once the system update was complete, Jason reopened the mall interface. His fingers hovered over Firearm Mastery Level 5—his only ticket out of this mess.

> [Ding!] Firearm Mastery Level 5 unlocked. Remaining points: 3.

It was like someone had uploaded the entirety of SHIELD's weapons database into his skull. Every gun he had ever used—AK-47, Desert Eagle, MP5—felt like an extension of his body.

Jason adjusted his grip on the M4A1, rolling his shoulders with renewed confidence.

"These bastards have no idea what's coming."

The dull throb in his ankle had dulled to a minor ache, and he was moving at nearly full capacity again.

From outside, Vladimir's voice rang out like a judge delivering a death sentence.

"Jason, surrender. You're outnumbered. We have twenty professional gunmen out here—this isn't some Daredevil rooftop brawl. Not even God himself could save you."

Jason smirked. "You sure there are twenty left? And you might not believe this, but I think God's actually rooting for me."

Vladimir's squad had already lost nine men in the past five minutes. Including the Roskov brothers themselves, that left fifteen.

Anatoly snapped, screaming expletives before snarling, "Screw this! Brother, kill the bastard. No need to take him alive."

Vladimir exhaled sharply, then nodded. "Do it."

With glee, Anatoly unshouldered an RPG-7—an absolute overkill for a single target. He took aim, grinned, and fired.

"Surprise, motherf—!"

BOOM!

The rocket-propelled grenade shot forward, trailing fire and smoke. Jason's instincts screamed MOVE!

Without hesitation, he launched himself through the shop's side window.

Glass shattered around him as he twisted midair, avoiding jagged shards. The moment he hit the ground, he tucked into a roll and sprang up behind a vending machine.

KA-BOOM!

The entire ice cream shop was engulfed in a fiery explosion. The shockwave blasted Jason forward, but he landed in a crouch. His ears rang, but he was alive.

"Lunatic idiots," he muttered, dusting himself off.

If he had hesitated a second longer, he would've been reduced to a charred corpse.

He glanced around. The shopping mall was mostly empty now—evacuated during the chaos. Perfect. This was his hunting ground now.

Outside, Anatoly tossed the spent launcher aside. "That should do it."

Vladimir remained cautious. "Don't assume. Check the body."

A hesitant thug inched toward the wreckage. Smoke and embers curled into the air as he stepped inside, weapon at the ready.

Seconds later, he emerged, shaking his head.

Anatoly turned beet-red. "F***!"

If Jason had survived an RPG blast, he might as well be as resilient as Luke Cage.

Vladimir remained composed. "He's wounded. He can't run far."

He turned to the remaining soldiers. "Split into groups. Search every floor. Shoot on sight."

The goons dispersed, entering through multiple entrances like a SWAT team on a coordinated breach.

Anatoly gritted his teeth, grabbed his rifle, and followed.

---

Meanwhile…

Jason prowled through the second floor, where he had spent countless hours people-watching and admiring the scenery—a.k.a. every Victoria's Secret model that passed by.

He knew this mall inside and out. The layout, the hiding spots, the blind spots. This was his home turf.

He perched by a window in an Italian restaurant, scarfing down half-eaten lamb chops and cold pasta left behind by panicked patrons.

His vantage point gave him a near-perfect line of sight to the first floor.

The first two goons entered cautiously, moving back to back, their Fisk-issued AR-15s at the ready.

Jason smirked, adjusted his aim, and fired.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three shots. Three hits. One body dropped instantly, blood pooling beneath him.

"SHIT!"

His partner spun toward the gunfire, scanning the empty restaurant for the sniper.

Jason let out a breath, steadied his hand, and fired again.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Another clean kill.

> [Ding!] Eliminated two hostiles—200 Villain Points.

[Progress: 350/2000]

Jason exhaled, shifting positions before the next wave arrived.

The hunt was just beginning.

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